Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Charismatic and influential Spanish artist. Long career with many notable works including Guernica – depiction of the bombing of the city during Spanish Civil War. Skim over his treatment of women but discuss if we can separate genius from behaviour. Can students think of any contemporary examples?
(Taken from Calliope Thorne’s teaching notes.)
For the next few days Sea Haven House existed in a state of silent unease.
Johnny, having tried to talk to Callie and being rebuffed, spent little time in the cottage. She’d heard him having long conversations on his phone in his room. They’d sounded intimate. Maybe he was trying his charms on another woman?
Frida left at first light, ate at the café and came home smelling of the pub late at night. Refusing to talk to Callie, she kept her eyes to the floor and her back turned in the big double bed.
The weather remained warm but there was a horrible dry wind which made everyone bad-tempered and irritable.
Austin Ruddick, having come across Callie painting in the public gardens, stopped to fill her in on his granddaughter’s recovery and to warn her there was a storm coming.
Judging from the mood in Sea Haven House, Callie thought gloomily, the storm was already here and showed no sign of passing.
The first fat drops of rain fell as she made her way back to the cottage.
It was the night of the awards ceremony at the Art School and she needed to get ready.
She had little enthusiasm as she jogged down God Almighty Hill from the gardens trying to protect her painting gear from the rain.
As she passed Sandy Vistas the evening of the Starlings’ lovely party seemed an entire existence ago.
Callie wondered if Dorrie and Sid were even still in Lullbury Bay.
For a tiny moment she’d enjoyed being swept up in their eccentric, chaotic, theatricality.
Loving the feeling of being, in however peripheral a way, part of a family.
‘It was all make-believe,’ she murmured, hurrying past. ‘Do the awards ceremony, get out of Dodge and get yourself back to real life.’
She dropped her stuff by the front door and eased off her shoes.
Hearing voices coming from the kitchen diner she emitted a groan.
That was all she needed. Frida, or possibly Johnny, had friends round.
Putting the thought of a hot mug of tea to one side she made to go upstairs for a shower.
As her foot landed on the first tread the old wooden stair creaked.
‘That you, Mum? We’re in here.’
Callie went through, heart lifting that her daughter seemed to be speaking to her again. And then stopped dead. Sitting on one of the sand-coloured sofas, mug in hand, was a man she’d thought she’d left in the past. The distant past.
Sunil.
She sank back against the kitchen cupboard, her legs so weak she didn’t think they’d hold her weight.
‘Come and sit down, Mum. I’ll get you a brew.’ Frida leaped up, took her mother by the arm and guided her gently to the sofa opposite Sunil’s. ‘You’re as white as a sheet.’
Callie collapsed onto the sofa still unable to speak.
‘Callie, it’s been a while.’
She’d forgotten how deep and silky his voice was but maybe it had become so in maturity.
After all, twenty-three years was a long time.
She studied him over the rim of the mug of tea Frida thrust into her hand.
He’d broadened out but still had that long narrow face with its high cheekbones, still had the luxuriant dark lashes and surprising green eyes.
His daughter had inherited them. She’d also inherited her height and long slender limbs from her father.
Her father!
Callie blinked. She flicked a glance from Frida to Sunil. What the hell was going on?
Frida perched on the sofa arm. One leg twitched in agitation.
‘Mum, I know you and Sunil knew one another during teacher training. I know Sunil knew Donna and that you and Donna and Sunil’s cousin all used to hang out together.
’ She took a deep breath, looking anxious.
‘Thing is, Mum, Sunil says he might be my dad and I, well, I need to know if this is true.’
Sunil’s expression was neutral. There was something happening here that Callie didn’t know about.
A tumult of emotions and confusion battled.
Anger, fear, suspicion; all overtopped by love for her daughter.
How had Sunil found out? How had he ended up here, of all places, in what was supposed to be a haven?
She sipped her tea, but it was stewed and too hot and scalded her bottom lip.
Clearing her throat she began to speak. It was only when she was halfway through what she wanted to say she realised no sound had emerged at all.
Putting her mug down she coughed and tried again.
‘Yes.’ A croak. Get a grip, woman. Of course her daughter needed to know.
She had every right. ‘Yes, Frida,’ she said, more firmly.
‘Sunil Patel is your father. We met at university. He was my boyfriend, my only boyfriend, and he is your father.’
‘Bhagwan dhanyivaad.’ Sunil closed his eyes and then put his face into his hands, his shoulders sagging. ‘Thank God.’
‘Fuck,’ Frida whistled. She was open-mouthed. ‘So, what you’ve been saying all this time is true. About you and Mum and Donna and your cousin?’
Sunil rubbed his hands over his eyes and grinned at her weakly. ‘Yes. I’m your dad, Frida. And it’s lovely to get this straight at last. We have so much to talk about, you and I, to discuss.’
Callie frowned at the exchange. She was so confused she let Frida’s swearword pass. ‘Wait, you mean you two know each other already? What’s been going on? Frida?’
Sunil rose. ‘I think I’d better leave. Now I’ve found out the answer to a question which has been driving me insane these past few months, I’ll leave you two in peace for a while. But we’ve a lot to catch up on,’ he looked at Callie meaningfully. ‘All of us. See me to the door, will you, Callie?’
Callie opened the front door and followed him out. Pulling it half shut behind her she sucked in a deep breath. She had to say this, and quickly. It was important. ‘I’m so sorry, Sunil,’ she whispered, ‘that you never knew. I wouldn’t blame you for being angry.’
He shook his head. ‘Confused maybe. Not angry. How could I be? I wasn’t the one whose life was unutterably altered. If I’m honest, I don’t think I thought about you and what happened until I had children myself. Then I began wondering about things which may have been.’
Callie was taken aback. So he had children. Other children. Of course he did. Life moved on. Except hers hadn’t. ‘I’d made the decision to…’ she cast a glance behind her, to check Frida couldn’t hear, ‘…go through with the termination but I just couldn’t do it in the end.’
‘Even though your parents would be furious?’
She nodded. ‘And they were. We’re – that’s Frida and me – we’re non-contact with them. I just couldn’t stand the thought of them helping me bring up Frida. If you remember anything about them, you know what they’d be like. I couldn’t cope with their poison.’
‘And you’ve done this all on your own?’ He shook his head wonderingly. ‘Callie. If only I’d known.’
‘No one knew where you’d gone. Vivek disappeared off the face of the planet too.’
Sunil’s mouth twisted. ‘Your parents weren’t the only ones who disapproved.
Mine sent me off to my uncle’s company to work.
I’ve spent the last twenty years in San Francisco.
Vivek too.’ He reached out a hand and tenderly pushed back a tendril of hair off Callie’s face.
‘If only I’d known. But I went away thinking you and me were no more and the baby…
well, that the baby was no more either.’ His face crumpled.
‘How I’d wish I’d fought my parents. In that, you were braver, but I was young, I was shell-shocked by what had happened, and I wanted to please them so off to the US I went. ’
‘But how did all this come about? How did you find us?’
They heard Frida call from inside the house. ‘Are you two okay out there?’
‘You’d better go,’ he said. ‘Frida will fill you in on everything. I understand there’s an awards ceremony tonight, so she tells me. I’ll see you both there. We can talk more then. Callie?’
‘Yes?’
‘She’s wonderful. You’ve done such a great job with her.’ Kissing her lightly on the cheek, he turned and went.
Callie watched Sunil go, leaning her head on the door frame.
Her body thrummed in shock and her head was thick with confusion.
No wonder he’d never found out about Frida if he’d been living abroad for most of her life.
He’d moved on, put it all behind him. After all, he thought she’d had a termination.
It had been a student relationship, intense but with no possibility of a future; they’d been too young, had too much stacked against them.
Oh but Sunil! He’d been a lovely boy and it looked as if he’d grown into a lovely man.
How the hell had he found them now? Recalling her daughter’s guilty face, she calculated it had something to do with her.
Turning to go back into the cottage, she closed the front door decisively.
She was going to find out what Frida had been up to whether she liked it or not.