Page 105 of One More Day
I gulp back a surge of emotion at the thought of my elderly father going to all that trouble, just so my mother can watch me decorate a tree like she always used to.
‘Dad, that was a lot of work – and on Christmas Day too!’
He sighs in the way he always does. I used to think it sounded like he was saying ‘Ah well.’
‘You know what she’s like at Christmas. She’s missed you terribly these past few years,’ he says, turning around with two platefuls of sausage, bacon, eggs, mushrooms and fried bread. ‘We all have.’
Hearing that from my dad hits me right in the feels.
‘Dad?’
He pauses, a plate in each hand. He puts one on a tray and the other in front of me.
‘Can I ask you something?’ I say, the words almost sticking in my throat.
I pull my dressing gown sleeve over my hand in a comfort gesture I’ve held on to since I was young, and I sit at the long wooden table that holds so many memories of happy times.
‘The night Michael died … I know you said something about my drinking champagne and … did you think it was my …’
My throat dries up. I can’t finish the sentence. I don’t have to. My dad makes his way to the table, sits down beside me and takes my hand.
‘Did I think it was your fault? No, darling. No! Where on earth did you get that notion from, Rose?’ he says, his gravelly voice a lot softer than I’ve ever remembered it to be. ‘I never blamed you. Not once. It never even crossed my mind, so don’t ever let that crossyourmind again. We all loved Michael, that’s all. We still do. And we all love you – maybe even more now than ever, if that’s possible.’
I can’t speak so I just nod and wipe my eyes.
‘That’s so good to hear,’ I whisper with my eyes closed. ‘You’ve no idea how much I needed to hear that.’
Thoughts are just thoughts …
‘Now, are you and Sarah making hot chocolate for the neighbours?’ he asks me, swiftly getting back to business as only he can. ‘The O’Neills will be twitching their curtains waiting for you once they get wind that you’re home this year.’
My heart swells at his suggestion.
‘I’ll make sure we do that as soon as Sarah gets here.’
‘Great. Right. I’ll take your mother up some breakfast, then she’ll be wanting to watch you decorate that tree,’ he tells me. ‘I suppose she’ll be looking for you both to sing along to that awful song you both like.’
His eyes sparkle when he looks at me now, sitting at the table in my dressing gown having breakfast, just like I did for so many years of childhood on cold winter days.
He takes a few steps towards the door with the tray in his slightly shaking hands for my mother, and then he pauses and turns to me again.
‘You’ll never believe who rang me last night,’ he says, throwing his eyes up to the heavens. ‘And not before time. Mind you, I gave as good as I got back then …’
‘Not Marion?’ I say, my mood changing instantly. ‘It’s a Christmas miracle! Are you two speaking again?!’
He nods.
‘We are indeed.She’s changing the name of the cottage back to Granny Molly’sandhas invited me and your mother up to stay whenever we want. I might take her up on her offer.’
‘You should, Daddy! That’s brilliant news.’
He shuffles on a little and then stops again.
‘It’s really good to have you home, Rose,’ he whispers. ‘I mean that. It’s so good to have you home this Christmas.’
And then he hums ‘O Holy Night’ as he moves on out into the hallway, his soft slippers now making a sound on the stairs as he brings my mother her Christmas breakfast, another ritual in our house that’s as old as tea.
I can just about wait until he is out of sight before I let my head fall into my hands and take a moment to compose myself.
