The Sun in Her Eyes (37 page)

My brow furrows with confusion. ‘Us, as in you and Liz?’ I double check.

‘Yes.’ He nods and then looks exhausted. ‘She was so sick of the fighting.
I
was sick of it. When you left, we became much closer.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me I made you feel like that?’ I ask with dismay.

‘I didn’t want to hurt your feelings,’ he replies, shaking his head.

I can’t help but smile at the irony. ‘So you’re telling me you were happy to be rid of me?’

‘Don’t say it like that,’ he mutters.

‘I felt guilty all that time for nothing?’ I tease, immediately retracting it when I see his stricken face. ‘Dad, I’m kidding. Oh dear, what a pair we are. I’m glad
you’re happy with Liz. Honestly,’ I add when he flashes me a dubious look. ‘If she’s the one for you, then I’m delighted for you both.’

‘Good,’ he says with a smile as we continue on our way. ‘Because I’d like to ask her to marry me.’

‘Oh,
bloody hell
,’ I mutter, staring at the sky. Then I look at him and grin, stepping forward to give him a hug, both of us chuckling.

‘Congratulations, Dad.’

‘Thanks, darling,’ he says into my ear.

We turn the corner and soon find ourselves in front of Mum’s grave. The flowers that I planted last time are doing quite well, but I get down on my hands and knees and pull up a few weeds
while Dad stands and watches. I didn’t bring a chair today so I hope he’s okay. When I’m done, I sit back on my haunches and look at Mum’s name:
Kate Church, beloved
wife and mother
.

She
was
loved. So much.

‘You
are
a good girl, Amber,’ Dad says gently. My scalp tingles as I experience déjà vu, and then I realise it’s what he said to me the last time we were
here. I look over my shoulder at him. ‘I’m so sorry if I made you feel like you weren’t. I’m so sorry I didn’t look after you better.’

‘Oh Dad, no,’ I say with alarm, getting to my feet as his face crumbles. ‘You did the best that you could. We both did.’

‘I’m sorry I tried to throw away your sheep,’ he says, gulping back a sob.

I can’t help but let out a little laugh, even though he’s clearly traumatised as I put my arms around him. ‘Don’t worry, Dad, I got him back. He stank of rotting food,
but he slept by my side nonetheless.’

His chest judders with a single laugh.

‘Honestly, Dad,’ I say sincerely as I pull away. ‘It’s time to let it go. No more regrets. Seeing Doris really helped me. Mum should rest in peace now, don’t you
think?’

He pauses for a moment and a break in the clouds lets a shaft of afternoon sun stream down upon her gravestone.

‘Yes,’ he says as the sunshine spreads and encompasses both of us. ‘She should.’

I can’t sit here and do nothing, not when her piercing cries are waking up an aeroplane full of people.

Poor Ned. He had such good intentions, trying to settle her while I got some sleep, but I think it might be time for Mummy to take over.

I unclick my seat belt and step out into the aisle, heading in the direction of our four-month-old daughter’s wails. The look of relief on his face when he sees me is palpable.

‘Do you want to give her to me?’ I ask with a smile.

He hands her over all too eagerly.

I place the tiny bundle over my shoulder and sing into her ear.

‘Baa baa black sheep…’

She quietens almost instantly and Ned slumps against the aeroplane emergency exit. I walk over and give him a tender kiss on his lips, but quickly withdraw and continue with my song when our
baby opens up her mouth to let rip again.

We’re on our way back to Australia for Dad and Liz’s wedding – and for them to meet Katy for the first time. Kate Church Matthews is what we called our daughter. Initially we
considered Kate as a second name – we didn’t want her to feel like she’d been named after a ghost and had shoes to fill. But we liked Kate and couldn’t come up with any
alternatives we preferred. Our Katy will be whoever she’s meant to be and we’ll love her no matter what.

I haven’t heard from Ethan and I don’t expect to. He was a groomsman at Josh and Tina’s wedding, so it was probably a good thing that we had an excuse not to join them.
We’re catching up with Tina, Josh, Nell and George for a belated wedding celebration, and I’m sure Ethan will have some reason not to go. Harvest, probably. I wonder if he’s
planted grapevines at Eden Valley yet. I try my hardest not to think about him.

This year has certainly had its ups and downs, but Ned and I are doing the best that we can to support each other through all of the challenges that life has thrown at us: work, pregnancy
(hormones!) and, of course, parenthood.

I never told him about my affair with Ethan. When I really think it through, I believe he would ultimately forgive me. But I also know that we would go through hell getting to that point of
exoneration, and I didn’t want to put that stress on either Ned or our unborn baby. Maybe one day I will tell him the truth, but for now, I hope he feels secure in the knowledge that I love
him and our daughter with all my heart.

This year, I’ve also been doing my best to make amends with my friends.

Shortly after our return to London, Gretchen got in touch saying that she had heard that the school she was moving to in Essex urgently needed a maths teacher to cover maternity leave for the
summer term – the substitute teacher had resigned with next to no notice. I agreed to go for a meeting at the school, and within minutes of talking to the head teacher my mind was made up.
The permanent teacher was returning in September, so I was only due to work up until the school holidays, but they asked me to stay on for three days a week until I had to go on my own maternity
leave.

It was strange joining before Gretchen had even started, but once she did it was like old times, and we quickly sought out a local pub to head to on Friday lunchtimes.

As for my other friends, Alicia, Josie and I catch up often for playdates and outings. Alicia’s daughter Bree is now eighteen months old, and Josie’s son Harry is almost a year.
Waterlow Park in Highgate has become our regular pram-pushing haunt, often followed by tea and cake in one of the local cafés. They’ve been incredible with dishing out advice and moral
support whenever I’ve needed it. I’m so lucky to have them around.

When our plane touches down in Adelaide, Ned and I both breathe sighs of relief. That was a
long
flight – a far cry from our return journey last April when we
were childless. Back then, we even managed an extended stopover in Singapore, leaving Adelaide a couple of days early to accommodate a short break together. It was quality time, well spent, and we
arrived home feeling refreshed and full of anticipation for the future.

Dad and Liz are waiting for us when we come out through customs, and my heart swells at the sight of Dad’s face when he spies Katy strapped to my front in a baby harness. He’s still
using a walking stick, but his stance appears stronger, and I know from all our conversations on the phone that his speech is getting better. It’s been an extraordinarily tough year for him
– he was quite low a few months ago when he realised that he might never fully recover – but Liz has continued to buoy him up, and I bow down to her. Our personalities may always clash,
but I have to admit that she is an amazing woman. Am I glad that they’re getting married next weekend? Honestly?

Yes. I’m ecstatic.

Dad got a second chance at love with Liz, his ‘breath of fresh air’ as he put it. It sounds like she’s a very different kettle of fish to Mum, but she makes Dad happy and
I’m thankful.

Ned hugs Liz while I cuddle Dad with Katy squashed between us. She’s sucking on the fabric of her baby carrier and it’s covered with her drool, but she lifts her head to gaze up at
Dad as he pulls away.

‘Hello, baby,’ he says, grinning goofily at her as he touches her cheek.

‘Hello, Amber,’ Liz interrupts warmly.

I give her a kiss, and then I unhook Katy from her snug position.

‘Do you want to hold her?’ I ask Dad, worrying in the back of my mind that he might not be strong enough.

‘Absolutely,’ he replies enthusiastically.

Ned and I watch nervously as he hands Liz his walking stick and offers his arms. I tenderly place Katy into them and he tucks her over his shoulder and begins to bounce.

Liz looks alarmed. She has probably never seen Dad with an infant before. I love it – and more than anything, I love that he
can
bounce. A year ago, there would have been no
chance.

It strikes me – as it did when he had his stroke – that, if Liz hadn’t got him to the hospital so quickly, we might have lost Dad. It’s a poignant thing to remember, and
I impulsively throw my arms around her neck and give her a proper hug.

‘Thank you for looking after him,’ I say into her ear.

‘It’s my pleasure,’ she responds, and oh my goodness, are her eyes shining?

I jovially pat her on her back and pretend not to notice as she pulls away, but the affection I feel is here to stay. I’m sure of it.

‘I’d like to visit Doris while we’re here,’ I tell Dad in the car on the way home. ‘Maybe next week before the wedding?’

‘Okay,’ he replies. ‘I wouldn’t mind a drive up to Clare. We could make a day trip of it. What do you say, Lizzie?’

‘Sure,’ she replies.

I hadn’t expected everyone to want to go, but I’m pleasantly surprised that they do.

I kept in touch with Doris after we left Australia. I wrote her a letter to thank her for getting in contact and told her that our meeting had really helped me. I didn’t realise how
unsettled I had been until then.

She wrote back after only a few weeks, telling me that she had returned to the nursing home after her fall, and she was very happy to hear that I was expecting a baby. She said that she had been
sleeping better since seeing me, which was both comforting and disconcerting in equal measure. I can’t imagine how she coped in the aftermath of the accident. No wonder she felt haunted for
so many years.

The next few days are a whirlwind of seeing friends and trying to get over jet lag with a four-month-old baby in tow. Even Liz doesn’t know how to contend with
Katy’s disrupted sleep patterns, so in the end she leaves us to it.

But Ned and I struggle on, and despite our exhaustion, we are deliriously happy. It’s fantastic to be in Australia together as a family. We leave the house as soon as it’s light and
go to cafés down the street or for walks around the park. I feel closer to him than I ever have. Having Katy has cemented our relationship.

Out of all of my friends, it’s funniest seeing Nell. She’s held back until now to tell me that she knew I was pregnant when I was throwing up in the pub. Whether she knew or just
suspected, I’m glad she didn’t comment at the time. That would have been too much to cope with. To my delight, George proposed to her a week ago, and they are planning on getting
married next summer. Again, it’s unlikely we’ll be able to afford to come back so soon for the wedding, but she said they’re seriously considering Europe as a honeymoon
destination, so hopefully we’ll see them then. I’d love to show them around London.

It’s not as easy being with Tina and Josh. They speak unguardedly about Ethan and I can’t help but feel on edge every time his name comes up in conversation. His divorce from Sadie
has been granted and things are getting to be more civil between them. He’s been spending a lot of time down at Eden Valley, prepping the land and planting Riesling vines. He hopes to have
his first white wine crop in a few years’ time.

He also has a new girlfriend – a graphic designer he met while redesigning his bottle labels. Apparently the graphics are super cool, manga-style. It’s too much information for me to
hear, but then, any news regarding Ethan would be too much. Wrong or right, I’m glad Ned and I live on the other side of the world from here.

A few days after we arrive, I dig out Barry’s number and give him a call. He seems a bit taken aback to hear from me.

‘I came to visit your mother about a year ago,’ I remind him, wondering if he’s forgotten who I am. ‘I was wondering if I might be able to drop into her nursing home
sometime and introduce my baby to her?’

‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Oh, I see.’

He doesn’t sound very happy at the prospect, and I’m confused. Then he tells me why.

‘I’m afraid Mum passed away last week.’

I let out a little cry and slump back against the wall. ‘I’m so sorry.’

‘She was ninety-five, but it was still a shock,’ he admits sorrowfully. ‘We’re having the funeral tomorrow.’

I swallow. ‘Would it be alright… Would it be alright if I came?’ The question is tentative.

‘Of course,’ he replies in a voice heavy with emotion. ‘Let me give you the details. Have you got a pen?’

I don’t feel nervous on the car journey this time: only sad. Ned drives, and Liz and Dad stay home with Katy. I’m grateful for his company and their support, but
mostly I’m just devastated. I would have loved Doris to meet my family. We’re too late by such a short amount of time.

The funeral is taking place in a large stone church with a steeple that stretches up past the tallest gums in the vicinity. One bell clangs mournfully as Doris’s family and friends go
inside to take their seats. I look around, wondering if I’ll be able to spot the infamous Becca, who is still getting up to no good, according to Doris’s last letter, sent a couple of
months ago.

I spy a pale-faced woman of about my age, with short, dark, spiky hair, multiple ear piercings, and what could be a twelve-year-old girl sullenly hanging off her hand.

I wonder if that’s her. I wouldn’t know what to say, even if it is. She has to carve her own path. We all do in the end.

Spotting Barry and Patricia, Ned and I go forward to offer our condolences.

‘It’s so kind of you to come,’ Barry says sincerely, addressing us both. His gaze settles on me. ‘You don’t know how much you meant to her.’

‘She meant a lot to me, too,’ I respond.