Our Father Who Are Out There...Somewhere (29 page)

Lily becomes aware that David has followed her across the room. She turns to face him. “In her eyes you’re like Father Christmas and Superman all rolled into one.”

David is standing in front of her. He reaches out to her and takes her hand. He pulls her to him, so firmly Lily’s nose gets squashed against his chest. He smells of soap and pine needles. Lily bites down on her lip until she can taste the blood, but the pain doesn’t help. A wave of sickness rises up inside her; her eyes are hurting and she tries to stop herself crying out, by holding her fist against her mouth. Her father strokes her hair and says, “I’m sorry.”

Lily collapses into his arms. She feels the wetness run down her cheeks, and she cries harder. David pulls her down to a chair and sits next to her, holding her tightly to his chest. As Lily cries, she can hear his heart beating.

“Mr Winterbottom?” A young doctor stands in the doorway. “You can see your daughter now.”

David doesn’t let go of Lily. “Is she…”

“She’s going to be sore for a few days. We’ve had to pump her stomach, which involves a rather invasive procedure to her throat,” the doctor smiles, “but she will be fine.”

“This is Fiona’s sister, my eldest daughter. May we both go?”

The doctor nods. “But just a few minutes. She’s going to need to sleep.”

Fiona’s face blends with the hospital pillow, her dark eyes sunken and her lips pale. David hesitates, stands by the door, trying to blink back tears. Lily stands at the side of Fiona’s bed and reaches out to touch her hand, which has a plaster across the back of it.

Fiona opens her eyes, “I feel dreadful.”

David hovers at the foot of the bed, while Lily tells Fiona to shush. Lily wipes Fiona’s fringe from her face and tells her to rest. Fiona struggles to lift her head an inch off the pillow, to look for her father. Her eyes fill with tears as she sees him by the door, “I know I’ve been stupid.”

“No, it’s me that was stupid,” says Lily. “I’ll never forgive myself.” She sinks into the chair by the side of Fiona’s bed, her hands clenched in fists.

David steps forward. “Stop it now, both of you. Fiona, you need to sleep. Everything will seem different in the morning.”

“I’m sorry, Daddy.”

“I said, no talking. Everything’s going to be ok.” He plants a kiss on Fiona’s forehead. “Now, close your eyes and rest.”

“Time to go,” whispers a nurse, “you can see her again in the morning.”

The snow has settled and the moon spreads a translucent light across the deserted streets, as David puts an arm across the small of Lily’s back, and they make their way back to the flat.

Stuart and Jo are waiting for them; Lily rang them from the hospital to tell them Fiona was ok. Jo opens the door and leads them upstairs. Stuart is waiting in the hallway. He doesn’t meet David’s eyes as he asks, “Would you like a hot chocolate?”

“Thank you,” says David, taking off his coat. Stuart turns towards the kitchen. “Er, Stuart? I have a favour to ask. Would you mind if I spent the night on your settee?”

“No, not at all. It’s the least I can do.”

“I’ll make the hot chocolate,” says Jo, putting her arm through Lily’s. “Give us a hand, Lil.”

Stuart has his back to the wall, as he watches Jo lead Lily into the kitchen. He glances at the attic stairs. Fiona’s father stands at the bottom of them, blocking the entrance. “I’ve got a sleeping bag upstairs.” David doesn’t shift his position. Stuart breathes and looks him in the face, “I’m sorry…”

“It’s not me you need to apologise to.”

“I know,” says Stuart, looking at the floor.

“I think, I think we all have lessons we can learn from this.” David stands to one side to allow him to pass.

“Thank you,” Stuart mumbles as he climbs the stairs.

Jo and Lily are sitting on the settee when Stuart comes back downstairs with a royal blue sleeping bag that has badges sewn onto it. Four mugs of hot chocolate stand on the coffee table and David has taken his coat off and boots off. Stuart lays the sleeping bag over the back of the settee. “It was right at the back of the wardrobe.”

Jo stands and picks up two of the mugs. She hands one to Stuart. “Right, we’re off to bed,” she says as she nudges Stuart towards the door. Then she turns back to Lily and David and adds, “Not together obviously. Think we’ve had enough of that kind of thing for one night.”

David actually smiles as Stuart stares at Jo with a look of horror on his face. “Thanks for that, Jo,” he says. “Right. Night everyone, see you in the morning.”

As Jo leaves the room she turns on the lamp on the sideboard and flicks off the overhead light, leaving David and Lily in the half-light. The gas fire creaks. Lily picks up her hot chocolate and takes a mouthful, and then spits it back into the mug. “Aah, hot, hot.”

 “You look so like your mother. She was about your age when I first met her.”

“How, I mean where, or when, did you meet her?”

“I used to play in a band. Just kids stuff really. And we played a gig at these awful discos they used to put on at the Church Hall, and she just came up to us afterwards and started talking. All the lads were hoping she was interested in them. Well, she was a bit older than us and so beautiful. We’d been at the same school together, but she’d never noticed me. I couldn’t believe my luck when she asked me if I wanted to dance.”

“Aunt Edie said you were a plumber.”

“I was, kind of. I didn’t really know what I wanted to do when I left school. Actually I did,” he laughs. “I wanted to be a rock star, but there weren’t many vacancies for rock star down at the job centre and my father, he was a plumber, and he had always wanted me to go to work with him. So I did but I didn’t much care for it. I wasn’t very good at it either.”

“So, what happened?”

“Well, your mum, she always saw me as a musician. I was fifteen when we got together, eighteen when we got engaged. She gave me the confidence to tell my father I didn’t want to be a plumber, and she found a job advertised for session musicians for a recording studio, and I got the job. I mean, when I say job, it was very sporadic, some weeks I didn’t get paid a thing. But Pamela never minded about money. She was working and she earned just enough to make sure the bills were paid.”

“My mum had a job?”

David nods. “She was a typist in a legal firm. She didn’t really like it, but she never complained. And she used to organise gigs for the band, The Recluse we were called. Stupid name.”

“Did my mum want a baby?”

“I guess she must have done, I just didn’t realise. I know it sounds selfish, but we were so happy. I didn’t want a baby spoiling things. I was young. I didn’t know then that babies grow up fast and become incredible human beings. I just thought it would keep us up all night, screaming.”

“Do you think she regretted it? I mean when she told you she was pregnant and you weren’t pleased, do you think she wished she wasn’t pregnant?”

“No. That was the thing about your mum. She was always sure; she wasn’t the type of woman to regret things.” He strokes Lily’s cheek. “She didn’t tell me at first, she wanted to wait until she was twelve weeks, but she couldn’t wait. She was glowing with this great big secret and she, well you know what they say about pregnant women, she was absolutely blossoming, like a flower; she never looked more beautiful.”

“What did you say when she told you?”

“Oh Lily. I didn’t say very much. I mean I tried to pretend I was pleased, but not much got past your mum. But she didn’t seem to mind. She was completely sure I would come round, which of course, I would have done, if…”

“If things hadn’t turned out the way they did.”

“She used to call me Rock Star.” He laughs softly to himself, his eyes shining.

When Lily climbs the attic stairs that night, the sounds of her father zipping himself into the sleeping bag follow her up the stairs. The Velux window at the top of the stairwell casts a red glow over the stairs, as the new dawn breaks in the sky.

Jo brings Lily a cup of tea at eleven o’clock the next morning. Lily, having had only four hours sleep, raises herself on one elbow and asks, “Where’s Da… er, Fiona’s…, David?”

“Fiona’s David is downstairs, bleaching all the ashtrays. I can’t believe you slept through his telephone conversation with the hospital at seven thirty-three this morning.”

“Is Fiona…”

 “Fiona’s alright.” Jo takes out a packet of tobacco from her bra. “She’s being discharged this afternoon.”

Lily takes a mouthful of tea and then jumps out of bed, still wearing her clothes from the night before. She pulls an extra jumper over the top, and opens the door. Jo looks up from her hand rolled cigarette. “Where are you going?”

 “Just, you know, to see what’s happening.”

David is wearing Stuart’s apron and a pair of rubber gloves when Lily enters the kitchen. It seems he has all the contents of the cupboards lined up on the worktop next to the sink. “Ah, Lily. You’re up at last. Did you get your cup of tea? I’ve made porridge, there’s still some left on the stove. Give me a moment and I’ll heat it up again.”

“How’s Fiona?”

“The doctor says she’s doing as well as can be expected. I’m going to pick her up in an hour. You may come with me if you like. He did say she’s a bit down, but that’s perfectly normal in these situations.”

“Are you going to stay?”

David nods. “I’ve asked Stuart if he’d mind putting up with us for a couple of days. I don’t really want Fiona’s grandmother to see her in this state, or her mother for that matter. Besides, there’s not really the room at my mother’s. She only has a spare single bed. So, Stuart has offered to sleep on the settee, Fiona can have his room and I’ve bought an air bed this morning, so I can sleep in with Fiona, until she’s fully rested.”

“Have you been to bed?”

“One day, when you have kids, you’ll understand.”

At the hospital, Fiona is sitting up in bed, but when she sees Lily and David she closes her eyes and pretends to be asleep. The doctor who discharges her tells David she must spend at least two days in bed, resting. David carries her like a child, her legs bent over the crook of his arm, to the car. Lily carries Fiona’s possessions in a hospital issued plastic bag; one set of damp clothes and an empty vodka bottle.

Stuart is at work, but Jo is waiting for them, having been to the shop for tins of chicken soup and bottles of banana milkshake. David has already pumped up the air bed and placed it at the foot of Stuart’s bed. He’s careful not to step on it as he lays out his youngest child on the double bed. He covers her with a duvet and rearranges the pillows behind her. Throughout the whole procedure, Fiona doesn’t open her eyes once.

“Can I get you anything, Fiona?”

She doesn’t answer. He stays sitting on the other side of the bed next to her for half an hour, but she doesn’t open her eyes. When David goes downstairs to make a cup of tea, Lily is waiting for him.

“You can go up now, but only for a few minutes. She’s not speaking. I think she just needs to rest.”

Lily runs up the stairs into Stuart’s bedroom, banishing memories of the last time she was in there. “Oh Fiona, I’m so glad to see you. How you feeling?”

Fiona is lying prostrate on the bed. She makes no attempt to move, to sit up.

“I’m so sorry Fiona,” says Lily. “I will never forgive myself.”

Tears seep through Fiona’s closed eyelids.

“Oh Fi, please don’t cry. I bought you some magazines.” Lily lays a copy of Just Seventeen and Smash Hits on the bed next to Fiona. Fiona turns her head towards the wall.

“Would you like me to read them to you?” Still Fiona doesn’t look at her. “Come on, Fiona. Say something.”

Ten minutes Lily goes back downstairs. Fiona remains mute the rest of the day.

On Sunday morning Stuart, Lily and David are in the kitchen eating breakfast. “It’s my fault that she’s in such a state,” Stuart says. “I should be the one to talk to her.”

David wipes his fingertips on his handkerchief. “I think you’ve upset her quite enough already. I’ll have another try.”

As he stands up, Jo comes back through the kitchen door, carrying Fiona’s untouched breakfast on a tray. Jo shakes her head at them and says to Stuart, “I think you need to grovel some more.”

“Come on Da… David,” Lily says. “Let Stuart go and see her. We’re not getting anywhere.”

David looks at Stuart and says, “Five minutes.”

Stuart climbs the stairs and knocks on his bedroom door. There is no answer, so he pushes the door. The room is dark, the curtains drawn, blocking what little light the day contains. He creeps inside, trying to adjust to the gloom. “Fiona?”

Fiona flicks on the switch without moving, the flex of the bedside lamp coiled in her hand. Stuart jumps, and screws up his face against the sudden influx of light. Fiona stares, unblinking at him, her dark eyes emphasized by the dark shadows underneath.

“I don’t know what to say… except I’m sorry.”

Fiona narrows her eyes at him. He adjusts his weight as his legs start to weaken, but he doesn’t look away.

“Did you mean it? Do you love her?”

He nods.

“Are you in love with her?”

“Yes I am.”

“And you don’t love me?”

He looks up at the ceiling. “I do love you, but I’m not… it’s different.”

 Fiona sinks down into the duvet, and pulls a pillow over her face.

“Oh please don’t cry Fiona, you’re fifteen.” Stuart sits down on the edge of the bed and tries to stroke her arm.

She removes the pillow, shrugs off his touch, anger suffusing her face and neck. “Don’t you dare…”

Stuart holds up his hand. “What I mean is, you were never going to stay with me for long.” She opens her mouth to argue, but he’s too quick for her, “You’ve got ‘A’ levels, and university. And travelling; you’ve always said you wanted to see the world.”

“I meant with you.”

“No you didn’t. You’ve got it all in front of you. You’ve just found your sister.”

“So has Lily.”

“You don’t need me.”

“And Lily does?”

“Yeah, I think she does.”

“I think that’s patronising. You’re patronising me and you’re patronising her. You make it sound like you’re doing this because she needs you more than me, but I need you.”