6. Lucas
LUCAS
L ucas had taken his father home after they’d had brunch at the café and settled him in front of the TV, then he’d gone into the kitchen and phoned his boss at the investment bank where he’d worked for the past ten years.
He’d explained that he had some concerns about his father and that he intended to stay in Cornwall for a few weeks, probably until after Christmas.
He could work remotely and always hop on a train to London should he need to attend a meeting, but his boss had told him to take some time off.
She said he deserved time off in lieu for all his frequent overtime and his accrued holiday leave.
He’d even cancelled a holiday in the summer because another colleague had been ill.
With Christmas just five weeks away, she said he should take two weeks now, then see how things were.
Lucas promised to stay in touch — he read his emails every day and responded whether or not he was at work — but she told him to forward his emails to her.
Having lost her dad the previous year, she said it had altered how she looked at things, made her realise how brief life was, and that work wasn’t everything.
Lucas wasn’t sure about that, but he thanked her, then ended the call.
Three days had passed and in that time, he’d started sorting out his father’s home.
He’d cleaned around downstairs and bagged up rubbish and recycling.
He’d disinfected the fridge and defrosted the old chest freezer, then he’d filled both with fresh foods and frozen meals so his father would have plenty of meals available.
Lucas had enjoyed cooking when he was growing up, but with living alone in London, it often seemed pointless.
Outside of work and some self-care at the gym, he’d begun to feel that he didn’t have much of a purpose, but now that was being replaced with a sense of being needed.
His father needed someone to help him and Lucas, it seemed, was that person.
Despite his transgressions, his father had always been a proud man, and Lucas knew he’d struggle to let anyone else into his home to help him.
Therefore, for now it fell on Lucas to provide that help and since his return he’d found that he didn’t mind.
It was kind of therapeutic for him to do something different for a change.
He was also, to his surprise, enjoying being in Cornwall.
It may be cold and wintery, but the location was still beautiful, with its rugged coastline and fresh winds that blew in over the sea, gathering the scents of salt and seaweed.
He’d decided he was going to do something nice for his father today, so he made him breakfast then told him to dress warmly. When they were both ready, he ushered his father out to the garage. His father went to get in the driver’s side of the car, but Lucas said, ‘I’ll drive.’
‘What? But what about insurance?’
‘We sorted all that yesterday, remember?’ These lapses in his father’s memory worried him.
‘Oh … yes, so we did,’ his father replied. ‘I’d clean forgotten there for a minute. But I can drive.’
‘You don’t know where we’re going, Dad.’
‘Tell me.’
‘I’d like to surprise you if that’s OK.’
His father mumbled a few things under his breath, but he got in the passenger side anyway and Lucas opened the garage door, then reversed out onto the street.
As he drove them along the road and then out of the village, his father gazed out of the window.
Lucas wondered when his father had last left Porthpenny.
He wanted to ask but also worried about the truth.
How would it feel to be stuck somewhere, even if that place was as lovely as Porthpenny?
To lose one’s physical freedom would be awful, surely?
And yet, there were good things to be grateful for: his father could still get up and about, was still capable of holding a conversation (when he felt like it) and he still had the capacity to make decisions for himself.
The main issue seemed to be that his short-term memory wasn’t as sharp as it had once been (he’d needed it to be in the past when he was being deceitful) and he hadn’t kept his home clean or been eating properly.
But this could be down to apathy rather than a loss of faculties, and while Lucas was here in the village, he intended to get to the bottom of the issue.
‘Any idea where we’re going?’ he asked, wanting to break the silence that had fallen in the car.
‘Nope.’ His father sighed.
‘Want to guess?’ Lucas prodded.
‘Not really.’
‘Oh come on, Dad. I’m taking you out, so why not try to guess where we could be going?’ Lucas tightened his grip on the steering wheel and clenched his jaw for a moment before he realised what he was doing and stopped himself.
His father glanced at him, then said, ‘Are we going shopping?’
‘Possibly.’
‘In … a town?’
‘Maybe…’
Now his father turned and stared at him. ‘Are you going to tell me or not?’
Lucas cleared his throat. ‘Would you like me to tell you?’
‘I’m indifferent about it, to be honest.’ His father blew out a breath that rattled his thin lips.
‘OK then.’ Lucas shrugged inwardly, not wanting to add to the atmosphere of irritation that his father was creating, and focused on driving instead.
He drove them through country lanes, past farms where tractors stood caked in mud, black and white collies peered from the gates, and where smoke curled up from chimneys into the chilly air.
Rolling hills spread out in a chessboard of browns and greys, divided by hedgerows and dry-stone walls, and dotted with skeletal trees that pointed their bare limbs towards the sky.
Robins hopped around the hedges, their red breasts vivid against the muted palette of late November, and high above the car, kestrels, buzzards, and sparrowhawks soared in circles as they hunted for their next meal.
When they reached a crossroads, Lucas slowed down and checked that the road was clear, then he turned left and drove for three minutes before indicating right and turning into a large gravel carpark.
‘Know where we are now?’ Lucas asked, fighting a smile because the sign ahead made it quite obvious.
‘Holly Hill Christmas Tree Farm,’ his father read from the sign as Lucas pulled into a parking space and cut the engine.
‘That’s right. Remember it?’ Lucas had debated whether bringing his father here was a good idea or not, but then he’d decided that it could be a positive thing.
While he had some sad memories from childhood, he also had some pleasant ones and so he wanted to embrace the latter to see if they could help repair his relationship with his surviving parent.
‘Should I?’
‘Oh come on, Dad. We had several trees from here when I was a child. Not every year, as we had an artificial tree for about ten years, but then Mum decided we should get a real tree and we had one for the next few years. It was a happy time, especially the years when we came up here together to choose a tree.’
His father looked down at his hands where they rested on his lap and stared at them as if seeing them for the first time. He lifted them and moved them in front of his face. ‘That was a long time ago.’
‘It was. About twenty-five years ago since the last time we came here. But I have nice memories of those days when you, Mum and I drove up here and walked around the tree farm together.’ There hadn’t been many occasions when he could recall the three of them doing something nice as a family, but those trips to Holly Hill had been good ones.
His parents had seemed happy together back then, even if it only lasted the time of the trip to the tree farm.
‘These damned things!’ His father’s tone made Lucas turn, and he winced at his father’s expression. ‘Look at the state of them.’
Lucas looked at his father’s hands. The joints were swollen; the fingers forced into claws, and the skin was red and shiny. ‘Do they hurt?’
‘Of course they hurt! Do you think they could look this bad and not hurt?’ Outrage laced his father’s tone, and Lucas shivered. ‘I … I hardly recognise myself anymore.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Lucas sighed softly. ‘I wish there was something I could do.’
‘Turn back the clock then, son. Turn it back and let me be young again.’
Lucas gazed out of the windscreen at the scene in front of them.
There were a few other vehicles in the car park, but no people.
The entrance to the tree farm comprised a wooden archway lit up with twinkling fairy lights.
Tall evergreens stood either side of the archway like sentries on duty and beyond them, a path led through to the shop and then out to the lot where trees could be selected.
Regret filled his chest like lead as he realised this was a bad idea. Surrendering to nostalgia was risky because while the past could be viewed through rose-tinted glasses, the present was often hard to face. Especially with a father like Eddy.
‘I wish I could change things for you, Dad. I really do. However, nobody has that power and all I can do is try to help you in the here and now,’ he said, wiping his clammy palms on his jeans.
‘I know that, Lucas,’ his father replied eventually.
‘I know that and I … I am grateful to you for trying. Getting old isn’t easy and I hate how my body has changed.
My mind … it’s still mostly the same and I feel the same inside.
A bit more resilient. Less idealistic. I’m still the same person on the inside but this body of mine …
I hate the changes in it. These hands … they used to play piano, draw portraits…
They were strong and agile. But now, at seventy-five, they can’t do any of those things. ’
‘I’m sorry, Dad.’ Lucas shook his head and his father sighed.
‘You don’t need to be sorry. I’m the one who should be apologising.
Lucas … I am sorry for being such a grump.
Since you came home earlier this week, you’ve done nothing other than try to help me.
You’ve cleaned my house, filled my fridge and freezer, and now you’ve brought me out for the day.
I am … I’m grateful, son.’ The last three words came out choked.
‘I don’t deserve kindness, and yet here you are being kind.
Come on, son, let’s get us a tree.’ His father pressed the button on the seatbelt with his thumb and Lucas did the same, then got out of the car and came around to the passenger side.
He opened the door, held out a hand and helped his father to get out, then they crossed the gravel and went through the archway.
Christmas songs filled the air as they strolled around the shop looking at decorations and fairy lights. There were also stockings to hang on the fireplace, colourful festive sun catchers, and Santa Stop Here signs in different shapes and sizes.
‘Do you need some lights and decorations?’ Lucas asked.
‘We could get some new lights and maybe a few new baubles, but I’m sure there’s a box in the attic that’s filled with other decorations.’ His father scratched his beard. ‘We can have a look later.’
‘Good plan.’
They wandered out to the tree lot and looked at the different trees, finally settling on a Norway Spruce.
It was six feet tall and had dark green, glossy needle-like leaves and the description of it said that it smelt rich, sweet and piney.
A farm employee wrapped the tree in netting then took it through to the shop, and Lucas and his father chose a wreath for the front door.
Back in the shop, they selected some decorations and lights for the tree and the windows, then Lucas went to pay.
‘No! Let me,’ his father said. ‘It’s my house and I should pay.’
‘It’s no problem, Dad, honestly.’ Lucas held his phone up to the card reader.
‘Lucas!’ His father shook his head. ‘You can pay when it’s your house.’
‘OK then.’ He stepped back and watched as his father used his phone to pay, admiring the fact that the older man was au fait with doing so.
‘All done.’ His father tucked his phone back in his pocket, then said, ‘It’s easier to use my phone than struggle to get a card out of my wallet. Thank goodness for modern technology, eh!’
‘I see!’ Lucas said, ‘I was very impressed that you used your phone. A lot of people are still coming to terms with that technology.’
‘I have a lot of time on my gnarled old hands.’ His father winked.
‘OK then, I’ll get the tree in the car and then we can head home and trim up.’
‘Sounds like a grand plan.’
On their way back to Porthpenny, they sat in silence, but this time Lucas felt more comfortable.
Rome wasn’t built in a day, but it was a start.
Lucas still had reasons for feeling angry with his father, but they could wait on the back burner for now.
He wanted to build some bridges while he was here and being on the attack would not help with that.
So, he’d try to be helpful and positive and to encourage his father to be the same.
Only then could they get to know each other well enough to have the tough conversations that Lucas had played out in his head so many times before.
The tough conversations that his father had shut down on more than one occasion.
Lucas knew they needed to have these tough conversations, even though he dreaded them, or he’d always wonder what would’ve happened if he’d been brave enough to be honest.