Page 69 of The Shape of Your Heart
My parents’ house feels strangely quiet, filled with the weight of our combined worry about our father, the shared fear that we could lose him. It isn’t helped when my sisters go back to work, coming and going as often as they can.
‘I really don’t want to leave here,’ Rita says tearfully. ‘But I have to go back to work.’
‘I know.’ Going over, Alice puts her arms around her. And this is how it goes – each of us there for each other as these moments engulf us.
‘I keep trying to tell myself that he’s going to be OK,’ Sasha wipes her face. ‘I’m just so worried about him.’
While my father takes tiny steps forwards, we’re all worried. It feels like we’re hovering at the end of a chapter that’s lasted all our lives. Without our father, the future would feel shaky, uncertain, until I realise what’s got me through the last year or so of my life, what my father’s far-reaching legacy is, that will always be here. It’s this family.
‘I know we have Mum. But even though Dad’s ill, we still have each other,’ I say fiercely, drawing on the strength I know I have; looking at my sisters. ‘We all know that, don’t we? That whatever happens, none of us need ever feel alone.’
* * *
My sisters promise to return whenever they can. Though my mother holds up heroically, in quieter moments it’s clear how frightened she is. But like last time, my father keeps making progress until suddenly we’re looking at him coming home.
My mother switches into another gear. ‘Now, I think we should move a bed downstairs – at least to start with. I don’t want him worrying about the stairs. And once he’s home, we need to think about putting the house on the market.’
My jaw drops. ‘You’re still doing that?’
‘I think the sooner the better.’ My mother frowns. ‘With your father not well, we really do need somewhere much easier to look after.’
The day my father comes home, we breathe a collective sigh of relief. He’s noticeably frailer after his time in hospital, but his relief at being home is palpable.
The following day, Tanith texts me.
New Year’s Graveyard Groupies bash this Saturday. We start this year as we mean to go on! You up for it? xx
I text her back.
I’ll pop in, but I won’t stay. It’s been a bit chaotic. My dad’s been ill xx
Almost immediately, my phone buzzes.
‘Shit, Callie. I’m so sorry.’ Tanith sounds shocked.
‘Thanks.’ My heart warms at the sound of her voice. ‘He’s better than he was, but it hasn’t been the best time.’
‘Of course not.’ She hesitates. ‘I really understand if you give it a miss. But I’m here if you need me. Any time.’
* * *
In the evening I go home for the first time in ages. When I go inside, I find a card delivered by hand. Opening it, I read the message, then the signature, touched that Nathan took the trouble to come here; I smile as I imagine him planting the primroses. Getting out my phone, I text him.
Thank you.
Pausing, I’m struck how things happen that cut through the banality of life; that’s become apparent these last days and weeks. And it’s the value of the people in our lives, the important ones, who touch our hearts; who in the smallest ways, show us they care. Whatever we are or aren’t to each other, Nathan’s definitely one of them. Adding anx, I press send.
One morning, I take a drive on my own to one of the beaches. But this isn’t one that Liam and I found. It’s one I remember from my childhood. The spell of calm weather has passed and the beach is empty, the sea wild, a cold wind gusting on to the shore.
As I stand there, my head fills with memories of coming here as a child with my parents and sisters. I can almost hear the echo of our voices, picture the blanket laid out on the sand, my mother’s picnic basket of delicious food; my sisters running ahead of me towards the sea… Maybe it’s because my father’s been so ill, but as the picture fades, it comes to me. The essence of who Liam was can’t just disappear.
I’m aware of the wind swirling around me before, thinking intently, I tune it out. When it comes to life and death, there is still so much we don’t know. What if I’ve been looking in the wrong place? If, somewhere I can’t reach, he is out there?
‘Liam?’ I whisper. For a moment, nothing happens. Then as the faint scent of his cologne comes to me, I gasp, as I hear the echo of his voice.
I’m proud of you.
It’s as though he’s standing beside me. I spin around. ‘Are you here, Liam?’ I whisper.
