Page 49 of Forgive Not Forget
Anna sat with his last words for a moment,Que Sera Serawas a song her grandmother adored. Harry would put it on the record player whenever she visited them, and everyone would join in singing.
“We thought we’d try and get you out a bit more, Dad, as the weather improves,” Anna said, pushing the happy yet sad memories away. “Maybe take you and Mabel on a few day trips.”
Harry lifted his head and furrowed his brow. “Who?”
“Mabel, your — ”
Harry chuckled before Anna could finish her sentence.
“Dad, that’s sick.”
“Sorry, love. Couldn’t help myself. There’s not much I can do about it but see the funny side.”
“I’m not sure there is a funny side,” Anna replied, looking to Katherine who was just managing to hold in a laugh.
“Well, you know me. I’ll always find one, love.”
He was right; she’d always admired her dad for his optimism and resilience. After her mum had died, he just got on with things. He was noticeably sad but made do. She supposed he was a product of his generation, who had seen hardships and horrors the generations since could only read about. Or more likely it was that his generation kept quiet about what they had gone through.
“If that helps you, Harry, then you do that,” Katherine encouraged him with a pat on his hand. “I’ve been meaning to ask you: Did Anna ask a lot of questions when she was little?”
“Oh yes, right little chatterbox she was! And always with her head in a book. Who was it?” He raised a hand as if it would help him think more clearly; it trembled uncontrollably.
“Jane Austen?” Anna replied, guiding his hand back down to the chair.
“Yeah, that’s the one, writes all those sloppy romances. Not proper books like crime.”
“I won’t argue with you there, Harry,” Katherine said, “but even I appreciate a gooey romance at times.”
“Why’d you ask, doc?”
“An old friend of Anna’s has moved back to the village with her children.”
Anna interjected. “Laura, Dad. Do you remember her? Jean’s daughter, lived at the cottage at the bottom of the high street?”
He nodded. “Oh, yes.”
Katherine continued. “She has a daughter, Abi. Full of questions and seems quite taken by the abbey.”
“Sounds just like Anna. She was obsessed with the place when she was younger. Didn’t you and Laura use to hang around there?”
“Yes, Mum would always tell us not to. She was worried it would fall on us.”
“That’s right,” Harry confirmed.
Anna sensed her dad was beginning to tire of talking; he only had so much in him, so she told him about their week — a lightened, happier version at least. She started with Sunday’s Easter bunny trail, then dinner with Laura and the children midweek. He listened intently to her. It saddened her that she’d never been able to and would never make him a grandfather. He really would have been one of the absolute best, just like he had been a father. He’d never once mentioned it to her as an adult, placed no pressure on her; neither had her mum. They’d probably given up on the idea when they found out she wasn’t interested in men. A tingle in her face told her she needed to focus on something else before she cried. She moved on to their nocturnal escapades with Virginia’s less-than-helpful assistance, which made him laugh until he coughed. They took their cue and left him to rest.
“That was easier than I thought it would be,” Anna said as she steered the car to the main road.
Katherine answered with a simple smile.
Having dealt with the Harry situation, Anna had hoped Katherine might be in a better mood on the journey home. Instead she appeared lost in her thoughts. There was so much worrying her, and little Anna could do to fix things or help her. She hoped that tomorrow wouldn’t be the start of more problems. Although Katherine was behaving normally, Anna could sense she was trying to contain her worries. From what she’d told her, she had never been at odds with Rebecca before. It came as a surprise to Anna, considering they were both strong, independent women, although it was more likely that the letter from the prison was still playing on her mind.
CHAPTER20
Katherine woke early on Monday morning. Unable to get back to sleep, she decided to use the time productively by going to work. But after spending the last thirty minutes playing with a pen at her desk, she didn’t feel she was quite living up to her own expectations of productivity. Her mind was overactive whilst her body was sluggish and annoyed at having been dragged out of bed before it was necessary.
It was yet another example of how she felt unable to focus or do anything properly these days. Most of the time she felt as if she were going through the motions or watching herself from a distance. As much as she tried to push the letter from her mind, she was angry and growing angrier that it had been sent in the first place.
