Chapter 47
SPENCE
I close the front door quietly. The light from the TV flickers into the hall, a low hum of voices filtering through. My back is against the door as I close my eyes. The sofa creaks. Footsteps. Heather’s. She moves faster than Al, her steps lighter. I straighten, bend down and take off my shoes.
‘How did it go?’ Heather rubs her eyes, wraps her arms around her torso.
Couldn’t have gone better. Pretty sure I’ll be asked for a second interview.
‘OK… they’re going to let me know.’
She smiles, a small smudge of mascara beneath her eyes.
‘That’s great news.’
‘How is she?’ I ask, eyes looking up the stairs towards her room.
Along the wall are photos of Georgia, ranging from a baby to her first nativity play.
We’d stayed up late the night before trying to sew a silver blanket into a star shape.
Al had a YouTube tutorial on in the background, as she prepared for a job at a historical society.
We had to rewind in a few places because she kept on swearing as the needle pricked her finger.
The points of the star are different sizes, but Georgia’s gap-toothed smile grins up at Alice behind the camera.
‘Good.’ Heather’s voice brings me back. She steps towards me, eyes flicking up to the photo I was just staring at. ‘Missed you, of course, but we’ve had fun. Went to the cinema, made cookies that I should warn you against unless you want to break a tooth.’
I smile, but my skin pulls around my mouth. Everything feels too tight.
‘There’s some leftovers if you want something to eat?’ Her voice is hopeful.
‘I’ve eaten on the train. Think I’ll turn in.’
‘Spence?’
I turn, one hand on the banister. ‘Yeah?’
‘Are you… sure you want to do this?’
Am I sure I want to uproot my life, move halfway across the country? No. No I’m not. Am I going to do it anyway? Yes.
I nod. ‘It’ll be good for her. A fresh start. Closer to you. Your parents…’
‘And us?’ She steps towards me. Resting her hand over mine. My eyes land on her hand.
I’m not ready for this conversation. I’ve got a migraine. Despite saying I’m not hungry, I haven’t eaten since this morning. But her hopeful expression is too much for me to cope with right now.
‘Do you think there might be a chance for us…’ She looks up. ‘To maybe try… again?’
I think about how much it had hurt when she left Georgia in my arms. How she walked away.
‘I don’t know,’ I say honestly.
She nods, her voice wavering. ‘But there’s a chance?’
I hold my breath. Without Al in my life? ‘Yes. Yes, there’s a chance.’
She squeezes my hand. Then steps back. ‘Night, Spence.’
‘Night.’
* * *
I turn the heat up in the shower. I’ve not heard from Al.
I know I told her we need space. We do. But part of me hoped…
hoped what, exactly, you dickhead? That she’d realise how much she loves you?
How she’s been more of a mother to Georgia than Heather ever was, that we’re her family even if she can’t see it?
Fuck. I turn off the shower. Dry quickly. Throw on some clothes.
‘Dad?’ Georgia’s voice is quiet. I push open her bedroom door. She reaches over and blinks against the bedside light.
‘Hey. Sorry, thought you were asleep.’ I sit down on the bed next to her, reaching over and brushing a lock of hair from her forehead. I expect her to bat my hand away, but she just settles further down the bed.
She yawns. ‘Did you get the job?’
‘I don’t know. There is another interview yet. But it went well.’
She shifts across her bed, making space for me. It’s been a while since we’ve slipped back into our old routine.
‘Did you have a good time with Heather?’ I plump the cushion under my head.
‘Yeah. Burnt the cookies. She’s an awful cook.’
We’re quiet for a moment. Just the sound of her diffuser breathing out breaths of lavender. A gift from Alice after Perri’s party.
‘I can see why you liked her, you know, when you were at school.’
I don’t respond, just reach out and stroke her hair.
‘Did she break your heart?’
I think back to that moment. The way Georgia had been screaming in my arms. The way she didn’t look back as I followed her to the door, begging her to stay. Her answer: I can’t. It’s too much.
‘No. Not really. We were young… I was mostly angry. Sad. She never got to see the amazing kid you were.’
‘But she’s back now?’
‘Yes. She’s back.’ My eyes glance up to the anime poster on the wall that has replaced Peter Pan. She’d always preferred adventure stories. ‘George?’
‘Dad?’ she mimics.
‘About Edinburgh… Are you sure it’s what you want?’
She hesitates, then nods. ‘I… I really like it there.’
‘But visiting and living there… they’re two very different things. You’d be leaving your friends…’
‘I know. But Mu—Heather will be there. It’s nice. Having a mum around. I mean, I know Alice is back, but…’
‘Would it make a difference? If Alice was here to stay?’
She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth.
‘I mean… maybe? But she’ll go again. Won’t she. Back to London when she’s written her article?’
‘It’s a possibility.’ Georgia watches me closely, as if she’s waiting for me to tell her more. ‘If she stayed, with—’ I clear my throat ‘—with us… would you still want to go to Scotland?’
Her voice is quiet. ‘I don’t know… Dad, do you like her? Heather, I mean.’
‘Sure. Yes, I like her.’
‘Do you want to kiss her?’ She flutters her eyelashes and the thirteen-year-old is back.
‘None of your business.’
‘That’s a yes.’ She laughs. Gone is the childish giggle. This one comes from deep inside her stomach. It reminds me of the way Alice laughs.
‘That’s an it’s-late-and-I’m-going-to-bed.’
I shift off the bed, click off her lamp, and kiss her forehead, the room sinking into darkness.
‘Dad?’ I pause by the door, just the street light outside letting in muted light. ‘Has something happened? With Alice?’
I swallow. Rest my hand against the door frame.
‘It’s just that,’ she continues. ‘Well, she’s not been over and she would usually be the one babysitting and…’
‘Alice is fine. She’s got her head down in that article, that’s all.’
She’s quiet, waiting for more.
‘And… it’s complicated. We had a… disagreement over something. We just needed a bit of space to let things settle.’
‘But you’ll make up?’ There is concern in the edge of her voice.
‘Of course. We always do. Even when I’m right and she’s wrong.’
She snorts.
I tap my finger against the doorframe, decision made.
‘I’ll call her tomorrow. Now get some sleep.’
‘Dad?’ She shifts up.
‘Hmmm?’
‘If you, you know… if you like Alice… not just as a friend? I’d be fine with that. Just so you know.’
My heartbeat pulses in my ears. I don’t have the right words to respond. Instead, I say, ‘Get some sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow.’
I try to sleep, but the decision to call Alice and what I need to say to her has me kicking off the covers and heading downstairs.
Two coffees down and a bullet point list of scribbles and…
I. Have. No. Frigging. Clue. There’d be no way to pretend after this.
No going back. Not if I’m 100 per cent honest. I grip the pen and cross out the line where, in a caffeine-fuelled haze, I’d listed all the things I love about her like some lovesick idiot.
Like bloody Michael. His name lands on the table; I almost expect to find him standing behind me, holding a cup of tea and wearing a judgemental expression.
Trying to plan out a whole conversation, when I know the minute I see her I won’t get a coherent sentence out of my mouth, is pointless.
Mike never had to do that, did he? No. He had time to think about the things he wanted to say.
He could have been a bumbling idiot in the flesh, but she never saw that side of him. She fell in love with his words.
His words.
Words.
Words, I know. Words, I spend my day job teaching.
Am I really going to do this? I turn to a fresh page on my notepad, fingers already popping the top of the pen.
Dear Alice,
I’m trying to remember how this all started. When something shifted. What it was that tipped me from just knowing you, to needing you.
Oh Christ. Looks like I am.