Page 55 of Welcome to the Cornish Country Hospital

‘It’s all right, I need my bed anyway.’ Richard’s face relaxed a little as he looked at his son. ‘Especially if I’m going to be up early tomorrow to try and squeeze into my thong for that yoga class. I’ll see you both later.’

Holding up his hand in a sort of static wave, Richard headed out into the darkness of the night. The silence in the room when he’d left still seemed to be fizzing with the anger he’d so clearly felt.

‘Well, that went well.’ Charlie tapped a finger against his forehead, which was another of the habits he had when he was feeling awkward, all of which Danni had come to recognise and love.

‘Actually, I think it did.’ She reached across the table and touched his hand, just for a second. ‘You’ve done what Connie asked and given him the letters. He has all the information he needs; the rest is up to him.’

‘I hope he makes the right decision and I really hope Esther does too. You and Connie both deserve a second chance; you were only doing what you thought was for the best.’

Danni forced a smile and slid her hand away from Charlie’s. She was almost certain now that he’d give her a second chance if she asked for it, and she desperately wanted one. But she was going to have to walk away from Charlie and her best friend, and she already knew she was going to miss them both for the rest of her life.

29

The last person Connie expected to see when she heard heavy footsteps heading in her direction was Richard. Her spine seemed to go rigid in response and the follicles on her head started to tingle, like a cat whose hackles were rising in readiness to defend itself. She wasn’t in the mood for an altercation, not when she’d spent most of the morning bickering with one of the physios who was still trying to railroad her into moving into the nursing home. It wasn’t as if having another argument with Richard would get them anywhere. However much he shouted at her, it wouldn’t change what had happened. She couldn’t make that right and she was exhausted from trying. If going through the contents of the box that Charlie had given him hadn’t allowed Richard to at least understand why she’d done what she did, then nothing would.

‘If you’ve come here for another row, you can leave. Never mind how you feel about me, but there are other patients here who are trying to recover from serious illnesses and operations.’

‘I’m not here for a row.’ Richard wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t scowling either and if she’d had to guess what emotion he might be trying to hide, she’d have gone for apprehension.

‘Whatareyou here for, then?’

‘To talk. Can I sit down?’ He gestured towards the chair next to the one she was sitting in, which had only been vacated by the pushy physiotherapist ten minutes before.

‘It’s a free country.’ Her scalp was still prickling, and she pressed her lips together in a tight line, ready for when he inevitably started to berate her. That was the thing with her injuries: she couldn’t even get up and storm out when she’d had enough of listening to what someone had to say.

‘I read the letters you wrote me.’ This time, when she looked at Richard, it wasn’t apprehension she saw. His eyes had gone misty and there was just the slightest wobble of his chin, as if he was fighting to compose himself. ‘I wished I’d known how you really felt about me. I’d have chosen you and Charlie, you know that, don’t you?’

‘That’s the whole reason why I didn’t tell you. Can you imagine what would have happened? You’d have had to see your parents’ devastation when they were forced to sell off at least part of their farm. You’d probably have had to move up to Yorkshire with me, move into the flat I was living in then, right in the centre of Leeds. It would have been like caging an animal and you’d have ended up pacing up and down, desperate for the freedom of where you grew up, exactly like the lions and tigers do at the zoo.’

‘We could have found a way of making it work.’ Richard’s tone wasn’t accusatory like it had been when he’d first found out about Charlie. Now it was pleading, as if they were back there, almost forty years before, and there was still a chance of the two of them raising their son.

‘There’s no way of knowing that, and one or both of us would have had to sacrifice everything we knew to be together. Maybe we’d have tried and failed, and I’d have ended up raising Charlie on my own. There are millions of amazing single parents out there, but I know I wouldn’t have been one of them. I had a great career, but it wouldn’t have left room to be a great single parent too, and the thought of living hand to mouth like my mum did was unbearable. I’d never even considered having kids until I met you. But then, for the first time ever, I could picture my children – playing on the same farm where you grew up. Only they never would have done, because the farm wouldn’t have been the same, even if you’d managed to hold on to a bit of it. Me leaving and not replying to your letters was never about not loving you. I did all of thatbecauseI loved you. It was exactly the same with Charlie. The moment I knew I was carrying him, the love I felt for him was overwhelming. And when I saw his face for the first time, I knew I’d never love anyone in the way I loved him. I’d have given my life to protect him and, in a way, that’s what I did. I gave up my chance of being his mother – the life that would have been – so he could have the best one possible. And the thing I’m most thankful for, in all my life, is that it turned out to be the right decision. He has the most fantastic parents – just look at the wonderful person he’s turned out to be. You must be able to see that.’

‘Of course I can, and I read the letter his adoptive mother wrote to you. If I’d had to choose someone else to be his mum, I’d have picked her too. But not over you, because whatever you might think, I know you’d have been a wonderful mum.’

‘That’s what I’m going to do my best to be from now, in whatever way works alongside the mum Charlie has already got. I don’t want to try to take her place, but the way I see it, you can never have too many people who love you.’

‘Have you got room for one more?’ Richard hesitated for a moment and Connie frowned, trying to work out if he was saying what she thought he was. ‘I spoke to Fiona. I drove over to her place, and explained everything to her and her husband, Terry. I told her how guilty I felt and you’ll never guess what she said.’

‘Probably best I don’t try in that case.’ Connie managed a half smile and Richard laughed.

‘She said there was nothing to feel guilty for. That we both knew what we were getting into, and that she’d never loved me any more than I’d loved her. All she wanted was to get away from a father who thought the best way to keep his children on the straight and narrow was to regularly knock some sense into them.’ Richard shook his head. ‘She actually thanked me for giving her a home where she felt safe and for allowing her to finally be with the person she loved. She said it was about time I took that same opportunity and, when I told her it was too late, she called me a fool and told me to get myself down here or she’d drive me down here herself.’

‘You always did have good taste in women.’ Connie’s smile had widened, but the look of apprehension was back on Richard’s face.

‘I know I’ve been an idiot, but I’ve got to know if I’ve completely ruined any chance of you ever feeling the same way about me, as you did when you wrote those letters.’

‘I already do. I always have. I’ve often wished I didn’t, never more so than over the last couple of weeks, and I’m far too logical and academic to believe that there’s one right person out there for everyone. But, somehow, you’ve turned out to be the only person I’ve ever wanted to make that kind of commitment to.’

‘Well, I wasn’t exactly proposing marriage.’ Richard grinned and he suddenly looked exactly like the young man she’d known all those years before.

‘Why not? You’ve already got me pregnant.’ She only realised how loud she’d said that last bit when the elderly lady in the bed across from her looked up from her knitting.

‘In that case, maybe I’d better do the right thing.’

‘Don’t worry, I’m going to let you off the hook for that, but if you’ve got room for me in that farmhouse of yours, I would consider moving in. After all, there’s no better way of getting to know someone again than living with them.’ Connie lowered her voice and leant forward. ‘Although I should warn you that I’ve got an ulterior motive.’

‘Now you’re really talking!’

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