Page 96 of One More Day
‘Try and compromise,’ Rose tells me as we make our way back to the car. ‘Try not to act on impulse when your emotionsare high. Christmas brings everything to the surface. I know it’s easier said than done, but act with your head as much as your heart if you can.’
I’ll do my best to remember that – it’s the advice I would give to someone too, but it’s often a different story when it comes to ourselves.
We are ruddy faced and tired with mucky feet after a glorious day. We’ve peeled back layers of our lives, but on the drive back to the cottage as Christmas moods go into overdrive on the car radio, I feel old fears seeping in again.
It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow. I need to speak with Clodagh. I need to make some changes, and fast. I’m not having her dictate when I can speak to Rebecca over Christmas – or any longer, for that matter.
‘Do you mind stopping at the corner shop on the way past?’ Rose asks me as we approach the village.
I don’t answer at first. My mind is racing with what I want to say to Clodagh.
‘Charlie?’
‘Sorry, yes, of course. No problem,’ I mutter, rubbing my forehead. I let out a sigh. I can feel Rose’s eyes on me. Her voice is full of concern.
‘I just need a few things in the shop. Won’t be long,’ she says. ‘Are you OK, Charlie? You look miles away.’
I’m biting my nails when I’m driving. It’s a habit that used to drive Clodagh insane.
‘Yes, yes,’ I reply quickly, feeling bad for threatening to dampen the mood of our day.
‘It’s Rebecca, isn’t it?’ she asks when I stop the car.
I nod. I look out the window where the snow is being washed away by rain. I turn up the wipers.
‘Give me a few minutes,’ she says as she opens the car door. ‘We can talk about it when I’m done.’
She puts up her hood, dips her head down against the elements and makes a run for it into the shop.
I lift my phone immediately. I need to say something to Clodagh right now. I can’t go on like this, living under her weekly five-minute phone call regime. It’s Christmas Eve tomorrow and I should be able to see and speak with Rebecca every day of the holidays if that’s what me and my daughter both want. I can still see her tear-stained face from the last day she called me, and it makes my heart hurt.
‘Charlie?’
Clodagh’s reaction is as I expected when she answers, like a wolf in sheep’s clothing with her polite voice that stings like a wasp when it needs to, but I won’t back down, not this time.
‘Hi Clodagh, I was hoping we could have a quick word.’
‘I’m just … hang on. Yes, go on. What’s wrong?’
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, already feeling my blood heat up.
‘Has something happened?’
I take a deep breath.
‘Nothing’s happened, but I should be able to call you to check in on Rebecca at any time. I can’t go on like this, Clodagh,’ I tell her, my voice shaking as I speak. ‘It’s unfair on me and it’s unfair on our daughter.’
‘Now, Charlie, wait.’
But I’m tired of waiting.
‘No, Clodagh, it’s time you listened. Rebecca and I can’t be held to ransom for your decision to emigrate. I’m her father. I’m a good daddy and Rebecca loves me.’
I wasn’t planning on making this call so soon, but I have to stay strong. It’s time I began to fix my own life as well as trying to fix others daily.
‘I’ve told you many times. I don’t want to unsettle her,’ Clodagh replies in her clipped accent which usually makes me cower and back down when she reaches a certain decibel, but not this time. ‘I see how upset she is every time you speak with her. You don’t see the tears that follow. She’s terrified of you being alone this Christmas.’
‘I’m not alone.’
