Page 15 of Winter at the Cornish Garden Café
But now he was here in the place where it had all begun. Where it had all happened. Where feelings had been sitting like woodlice underneath a log and once the log was lifted, the woodlice scattered in all directions. Lucas knew that something similar could happen with his feelings and he was apprehensive about unleashing them. However, he was also aware that he couldn’t hide them away forever and that sooner or later he’d need to face them. It seemed that here, today, the process would begin.
He poured tea into both mugs, added milk and a sugar cube for his father then sat on a chair near the fire and sipped his tea. Gazing into the flames, he watched as shapes appeared, faces and figures, flickering like images from an old reel of film. None of them lasted long enough for him to discern exactly what he was seeing, and he knew it was all in his imagination, but even so, it fascinated him and added to the sense that something big was about to unfold. An emotional event of sorts that had been a long time in the making.
He drank the rest of his tea then placed the mug on the tray on the table and stood up. ‘Right then, let’s have a look in the boxes.’
‘Lucas!’ His father stood too. ‘I have to tell you that I … I haven’t opened these boxes in years. Not since …’ His face crumpled and he brushed the back of his arm against his eyes. ‘Not since your m-mum passed.’
‘That’s a long time, Dad.’
‘Fifteen years.’
‘Haven’t you decorated at Christmas since?’ Guilt gnawed at Lucas as he asked the question because it was the type of thing he ought to know. Sons visited their parents over the holidays. Loving sons did, anyway. But Lucas hadn’t been back to check on his father. He’d had his reasons, of course he had, but even so, did it excuse him not caring enough to check on him — other than the odd phone call or text message and a fleeting visit several years ago?
‘There didn’t seem to be any point just for me. I couldn’t face it,’ his father said, his eyes watering. ‘And I … I felt so guilty about everything that I couldn’t do much more than exist. Getting out of bed every day took so much energy.’
Lucas pressed his fingers into his jaw and opened his mouth, trying to relieve some of the pressure building up from tensing. ‘But it was all your choice. You did the things that caused the issues in the first place. You decided to… to cheat on mum repeatedly knowing how it hurt her and… Why couldn’t you have just kept it in your pants?’
Heat rushed to his face and his father’s eyes widened. He waited, expecting outrage and admonishments but they didn’t come. Instead, his father sank onto the sofa and placed his misshapen hands on his knees then started to cry silently. Big fat tears rolled down his cheeks and plopped onto his shirt where they sat like glass beads. Lucas didn’t know what to say because he’d brought this about by being so brutally honest. He hadn’t intended on saying those things quite so harshly, but his father had told him he felt guilty and then the words had tumbled out of Lucas like an avalanche down a mountain. Years of pent-up emotions, suppressed thoughts and questions, had gushed to his tongue like lava to the mouth of a volcano and he had exploded. The relief he’d have expected to feel after finally speaking the truth was absent though. All he’d done was cause an elderly man pain and anguish and it seemed like his father had already been beating himself up about what he’d done for years. It was all well and good assuming a devil-may-care attitude when you were young, but as you aged, your body started to slow down and fail and then all you were left with were the thoughts and memories, the time to sit and stew over things you could have done differently.
‘I-I’m so sorry.’ His father peered at him through his tears. ‘I wish I could tell your mum how sorry I am.’
Inside Lucas, something cracked. All the hurt, pain and worry of the past seemed to exit him like steam from a tumble-drier andhe sighed as it vanished into the air. He went to his father’s side then placed a hand on his arm.
‘I know you are. For a long time, I didn’t think you cared but then I didn’t come back to find out. I think we’ve both been carrying a lot around with us for far too long. There’s no quick and easy solution to healing things between us, but I do know that I’d like to try.’
His father nodded slowly then pulled a tissue from his pocket and dabbed at his eyes. ‘I would like that, Lucas. I’ve been so sorry but unable to tell you. Sometimes saying sorry is the hardest thing to do and it can be easier to bottle things up and pretend they’re not there. Let the dust settle on top of them thick as that in the attic.’
‘You’ve not always been the easiest person to be around,’ Lucas said, gently patting his father’s hand.
‘And for that too I am sorry. My own father was a hard man, quite cold actually, and he never told me or any of my siblings that he loved us. It’s why my brothers emigrated as soon as they were old enough, I swear. They got away from him because they couldn’t stand to be near him or to see how downtrodden my mother was. And there was only me left but I moved away from Wales and settled here in Cornwall where I met your mum. But a difficult childhood causes problems… I didn’t used to understand this, but you watch enough daytime TV and you learn plenty from all the chat shows and therapists on there. I’m not trying to excuse my behaviour as a father at all, but I have tried to understand myself more over the years. I always felt like I was a letdown to my father and then I let you and your mum down. Finding validation in affairs and female attention made me feel better about myself, but it was only a short-term fix. I wasn’t actually fixing myself deep down. It was like eatingchocolate or drinking whisky. There was a dopamine hit but it soon faded and left me wanting more. Your mum didn’t deserve that nor did you. And feeling that the pain I caused her finished her off… That she died from what was essentially a broken heart… I can’t bear knowing that it was all down to me.’
Lucas had to force his mouth shut because he couldn’t believe that this was his father talking. This man who’d once been so confident and arrogant, who’d put him and his mum down time after time was now talking openly about his flaws and failings and trying to understand why he’d done what he had. It seemed that Christmas miracles could happen…
‘Dad… despite everything, there were good times, and I did have happy moments in my childhood. There were difficult times and yes, you did hurt me quite a lot over the years. Mum tried to counter that by being even softer, but I always loved you. That never stopped.’
‘A beaten dog will still be devoted to its master, Lucas. That much I know. My father was the same and yet I loved him and desperately wanted his approval. Even up to the day he died I was hoping he’d tell me just once that he was proud of me. But it never came and that’s something I can’t ever change. But with you… I need to swallow my stupid pride and put things right while I still can. I am, and always have been, incredibly proud of you. Lucas, you are an amazing man, and I love you dearly.’
Lucas could barely swallow because the lump in his throat was so big. His father was proud of him. He loved him and he had apologised. There was, as he had said, no quick fix for their relationship but this was progress and progress he had not been expecting. He’d thought their time together would be tense, difficult and challenging but here they were less than a weeksince he’d arrived and they’d already taken more steps forwards than they had done in years.
‘We can heal together, Lucas, if you want to try,’ his father said.
‘I want to try.’ Lucas nodded.
‘Thank you.’
‘Shall we uhm … have a drink of something while we go through the boxes? I feel a bit wrung out after that and it would be nice to have something to?—’
‘Take the edge off it?’ His father laughed.
‘Exactly that, Dad.’
‘There’s a bottle of brandy in the sideboard.’
‘Brandy’s good.’ Lucas went to the cupboard and got the bottle out. It hadn’t been opened so he broke the seal and got two glasses from the shelf inside the cupboard. They were dusty so he took them to the kitchen and as he swilled them, he realised his hands were shaking. It was the heightened emotion and the frank talking that had done it, but he didn’t mind because despite what he had told himself over the years, he had hoped that one day he might be able to feel close to his father. Neither of them was getting younger, therefore it was good that they were taking this chance to speak about their feelings and to try to make peace. The saddest thing about it was that his mum wasn’t here so she couldn’t experience the relief of knowing that the two men she’d loved more than anyone else in the world were trying to heal their rift.
Back in the lounge, he poured brandy into the glasses then handed one to his father. They clinked glasses then drank andLucas sighed as the brandy warmed his stomach and eased the tension in his neck and shoulders.
‘You know what, Dad? I’m pretty beat so how about we go through the boxes tomorrow?’
