Page 103 of Seven Letters

They sat outside, Charlie insisting they were at the very end of the garden, so no smoke smell could waft into the house. ‘If Olivia even thinks I was smoking, she’ll never leave me alone again.’

Mia handed her father his coffee laced with brandy and lit his cigarette. ‘Two things. First of all, this is your house and you can do whatever you want in or outside it. Second of all, you are sixty-nine years old and it’s ridiculous that you’re letting her boss you about.’

Charlie inhaled deeply on his cigarette and moaned with pleasure. ‘Twenty-five years since I had my last, and it tastes wonderful.’

Mia only smoked the odd cigarette at very late-night parties, which she hardly ever went to now, but she joined her father in his illicit activity.

They puffed and drank in companionable silence.

‘I’m used to bossy women,’ Charlie admitted. ‘Your mother was bossy, too.’

‘Hang on a minute,’ Mia said, annoyed. ‘Mum was nothing like Olivia. Olivia is a whole other world of controlling. Don’t let her take over your life, Dad.’

Charlie stubbed his cigarette out, then picked up the butt and threw it deep into the bushes. ‘I barely know what day it is at the moment. Olivia is doing her best to keep me sane.’

‘I’m here for you too, Dad. Don’t forget that. I can’t sleep, so you can call me anytime, day or night.’

‘I wouldn’t do that. Sure I’d wake up Johnny.’

‘Honestly, Dad, I spend most nights pacing the house. Call me anytime.’

Charlie put his mug on the ground and lit his second cigarette. ‘How did we end up here, Mia? I must have done something terrible in a past life. No man should see his beloved daughter in that state.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘I can’t get that image of her bloated face and bulging eyes out of my mind. It haunts me.’

‘I brought some photos for us to look at, to try to remember her as she was.’

Mia took one last long drag from her cigarette. They were sitting on two foldout chairs in the shade, under the ‘climbing tree’, as she and Sarah had called it when they were kids. The leaves rustled in the light breeze and all that could be heard were birds twittering and the very faint sound of cars on the road. Mia looked down the long, narrow garden to the back of the house. Home. This was our home, she thought.

A sharp memory flooded her mind. She remembered jumping in and out of the sprinklers with Sarah that really hot summer when she was about thirteen and Sarah was eight. She could picture her little sister in her red polka-dot swimsuit that she was so proud of. Mia bent over and pretended to put her cup down. She didn’t want Charlie to know she was fighting to breathe because the pain of the memory was so great.

She felt a hand on her back. ‘The memories come so suddenly they can really knock you sideways,’ Charlie said.

Mia sat up slowly. ‘I could see her running around in her red polka-dot togs, jumping in and out of the sprinkler.’

Charlie nodded. ‘I remember those. Your mother bought them for her in France. Sarah was like a peacock in them. Her “French togs”.’

They both laughed. Mia pulled an envelope out of her bag. ‘It’s funny how we don’t have photos, these days. They’re allon our phones or in the i-cloud or whatever it’s called. I miss physical photos. They really are snapshots of our lives.’

Mia handed him her favourite photo. It was of Charlie and Sarah standing in the archway of the church, about to walk down the aisle on her wedding day. They were looking at each other, beaming from ear to ear. Joy and love radiated from the photo.

‘Oh,’ Charlie whispered. He held it up to his face. ‘She was magnificent.’

Mia nodded. She was gazing at the other photo she had brought. It was one of Mia, Sarah and their mum. They were all giggling. It was Sarah’s tenth birthday and Penny had made an ice-cream cake, which was melting. Mia was trying to hold up the left side, and Penny tried to do the same with the other, while Sarah blew out the candles.

‘You think when your daughters meet nice men, marry and have families of their own that your job is done. You can finally breathe easy. You can put your feet up and stop worrying. You can enjoy your grandchildren without any of the stress of parenting. And then …’

‘It was so sudden.’

‘She’s gone but she’s not gone. That’s almost the hardest part. I want it to end now, Mia.’ Charlie’s voice was hoarse with exhaustion. ‘I want to lay my little girl to rest.’ He took a third cigarette out of the packet and lit it with shaking hands. ‘I’ve actually started praying the baby will die. Imagine, a man praying that his own grandchild will die. But it’s the only way Adam will stop this.’

Mia felt tears running down her cheeks. ‘Me too. I want Sarah and the baby to be buried and at peace, together.’

‘What a mess.’ Charlie exhaled a long puff of smoke.

‘I’ll try talking to Adam again. Maybe he’ll see sense.’

Charlie shook his head. ‘He won’t stop until it’s over. AndI can understand it, in a way. I remember having to let your mother go. I didn’t want to – I wanted to cling to her, wanted her to keep fighting, but she was so weak, it wasn’t right. I had to let her go. It’s a decision that Adam will live with for the rest of his life. I saw that little boy on the scan – good strong heartbeat. He looked so safe and alive. My heart breaks for Sarah. I’m glad she died before the baby – it would have killed her to lose him. As hard as it is for us, it’s tougher on Adam. I suppose we need to remember that.’

‘Yes, but he can’t block us from seeing her. It’s not right or fair.’

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