Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘Y ou’re moving out?’ Dad seems shocked. He’s put down his knife and fork to stare at me. It’s Sunday and I’ve cooked his favourite roast chicken dinner with crunchy roast potatoes, veg and thick gravy. Lucas has gone to Phoebe’s house to play with Flynn, which has given me some time to speak to Dad. Lucas assured me as we got out of the car that he would not go anywhere near Phoebe’s purse or pick his nose.
‘Yes, Lucas and I will be moving into our new flat on Friday.’
‘Oh, I see,’ mutters Dad. ‘Can I ask where?’
‘The flat above the ice-cream parlour.’
He rubs his forehead. ‘Why have you not looked at those properties I showed you?’
‘Dad, I can make my own decisions on where Lucas and I will live.’
An awkward silence descends upon the table. I push a piece of potato around my plate and wait for the inevitable Pete comment.
‘Lucas would have loved to live near his father, Alice.’
Irritation bubbles inside of me. I drop my fork, sending it clattering across my plate and look across at Dad. ‘How many times do I have to tell you, Dad? Pete and I are not getting back together.’
Dad looks taken aback. He takes out his handkerchief and dabs his sweaty brow. ‘I’m sorry, Alice. I found what happened with your wedding quite shocking and I want you and Lucas to have some stability. To me, Pete is…’
‘Dad, please stop bringing up Pete at every opportunity,’ I snap. ‘If you must know I feel guilty about not loving Pete. Every night when I say goodnight to Lucas I silently apologise to him for not loving his father. I don’t love Pete and I never…’ I pause. ‘I never have loved him.’
Dad lets out a heavy sigh and pushes his plate away. ‘Is this about Noah Coombes? Because if it is, I am going to be very cross.’
‘Listen to yourself,’ I say in a loud voice. ‘I am thirty-six years old and you’re still trying to tell me who I should and shouldn’t love. Dad, I can make my own decisions.’
Dad lets out a wail of frustration. ‘He is not welcome in this house, Alice.’
‘Why do you dislike him so much? You never told me why you and Noah’s father fell out.’
‘That family have driven a wedge through us, Alice.’ Dad rises from his chair. ‘I’ve lost my appetite.’
I follow him into the living room. ‘What did Dave Coombes do?’
‘Leave me alone, Alice,’ Dad says, before marching over to the mantelpiece. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
Returning to the table I clear away, wash up and put everything away. When I enter the living room Dad is watching an old Antiques Roadshow . He looks up at me. ‘I think you moving out is a good idea, Alice.’
‘Yes, I agree.’
He nods. ‘We all need some space to think and collect our thoughts.’
I go upstairs and lie on the camp bed. Agitation at Dad is nibbling away at me. I stare up at the ceiling. This feels like I am fifteen again, lying on my bed after arguing with Dad over Noah. I don’t want to move out and my relationship with Dad to deteriorate as Noah and I are getting close again.
Taking out my phone I decide to distract myself with Facebook by reading about other people having fun.
Rose has tagged me into a post on Facebook. The caption reads, ‘Happy days.’ It’s a photo from years ago of Mum, Rose, Frankie, and me outside their house. Frankie’s wonky fringe makes me smile. He’d asked me to cut it in the bathroom as he believed it was too long. To this day I still don’t know why he asked nine-year-old me to grab the kitchen scissors and hack away. Rose screamed when she saw it. As it was the summer holidays and Frankie liked his lopsided fringe, she left it a few weeks before marching him down to the barbers.
My eyes linger on Mum and Rose. Their heads are pressed together, Rose is laughing into the camera, and both are clutching glasses of wine. They were the best of friends. An idea pops into my head. Rose is probably the only person in the world who knows what happened between Dad and Dave Coombes. If I am to sort this mess out with Noah and Dad, I need to know what happened.
I message Frankie to ask him how things are, how Rose is coping with her treatment and to say that I need to speak to Rose.
Later, I send another text to Pete asking him to call me. After what Noah told me in the café, I am now certain Pete is connected to that email Noah received and to my missing letters. Pete has been ignoring my texts and voicemails. Earlier I took Bean for an extra-long dog walk to Pete’s house. His Golf wasn’t parked in his drive and all his windows were shut.
He doesn’t reply to my text.