‘I don’t think in your state being a guinea pig would be a very good idea.’ Ros was alarmed that the hospital had even discussed something like that with a terminally ill patient. The consultant she’d seen had told her all they could do was try to slow his demise and keep him comfortable and that she was to think in months not years. She had tried to press him for something more concrete but he’d not been keen to provide what he called an expiry date.

‘I suppose,’ said Barry, reaching for her. Ros gripped his hand and their sad smiles mirrored each other. ‘Anyway, there’s no point being all gloomy. How are things with you?’

Ros slapped on a more positive face. ‘Good, thanks. Work is crazy. It’s like trying to herd belligerent cats and nobody does as I ask until I’ve chased them umpteen times. But it keeps me out of mischief. The team event was a new level of hell and is thankfully over for another year. I’d best crack on with dinner.’

Sunday lunch was what anchored Ros’s week. Her dad had made a roast dinner every week and as she’d grown up it had been the thing they always did together. His Yorkshire puddings were legendary and there was something very comforting about a home-cooked roast even if they made it together now. Barry got on with making the batter for the Yorkshires while Ros prepared everything else and Gazza pottered about looking up hopefully in case anything edible or otherwise was dropped. Ros updated her dad on her work issues in more detail and he nodded in all the right places, even if he didn’t fully understand it. He had always been in her corner, her silent cheerleader, and she had no idea what she’d do without him.

Ros was a forward planner so it was hard not to think ahead, but sometimes she had to force herself not to and to focus on the now and the time they had left.

After their meal Ros tidied away and loaded up the dishwasher while Gazza tried to lick the gravy off the plates when she wasn’t looking.

‘What else can I do while I’m here?’ she asked as she wiped down the surfaces.

‘There’s nothing that needs doing. Just a chat would be lovely.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

Time with her dad had always been precious. Somehow work had leached into their plans, and until his diagnosis she’d only seen him for lunch on a Sunday, which she felt guilty about, but at least she was seizing all opportunities to spend time with him now. Ros made the drinks and they chatted. She pushed her mental to-do list to one side and enjoyed her father’s company.

‘I’ve been thinking,’ said Barry.

‘Sounds ominous,’ said Ros.

‘Hear me out before you say no.’

‘Okay,’ she said, but her father knew her well so she was already forewarned that she was not going to be in favour of whatever he was about to share.

He scratched an eyebrow before fixing her with a look. ‘Life is short, Ros. Too short for grudges and regrets. I’d like you to contact your mother.’

At the very mention Ros felt her hackles rise. The thought of her mother always triggered resentment and hurt. ‘Dad, please don’t ask me to do that. How could that possibly end well?’

‘Whatever has happened, she’s still your mum and when I go . . . I don’t like the idea of you being alone in the world. And I hear she’s mellowed.’ He passed her a scrap of paper. ‘Here’s her address and phone number.’

Ros didn’t look at the details; she just shoved the note in her pocket. This was a very uncomfortable position to be in. She so wanted to please her dad and put his mind at rest but the thought of playing happy families with her mother quite frankly made her a little bilious.

‘Ros?’ Her dad was looking at her. She could see this meant a lot to him.

‘I’ll think about it.’ That was as much as she could promise. She had a lifetime of emotional damage that she laid at her mother’s door so the thought of contacting her was as appealing as free climbing above hungry crocodiles.

‘Don’t take too long,’ he said.

They talked about old times and happy memories until Barry looked a little tired. Ros picked up the mugs.

‘I’ll put these in the dishwasher. I’ll call you tomorrow but ring if there’s anything you need.’

‘Will do,’ he said but they both knew he wouldn’t. As she stood up he added, ‘Actually, could you put the recycling out please, Ros?’

‘Sure.’ She gave him a hug and a kiss and went to leave the room. The phone rang and Barry answered it as he waved her off. ‘Hello, Pete, you okay? Yeah, about the same, fair to middling. She’s well. She’s been here for Sunday lunch—’

‘Hi, Uncle Pete; bye, Uncle Pete,’ called Ros from the hallway and she waved to her dad. She gathered up the recycling and could hear her dad’s side of the conversation in the background. She took the rubbish to the bins and then came back to pick up her handbag.

‘No, Ros doesn’t change. She’s still working too hard . . .’ Ros smiled to herself and turned to leave. ‘No, there’s no room for anyone else in her life. Her job takes up all her time.’ Ros paused for a second. She knew she shouldn’t be listening but it was interesting to hear her dad’s take on her single status. ‘I agree, Pete. She’s the classic strong independent woman. And I know she’s content as she is, or at least she says she is, but I can’t help feeling that she could be a little happier. Ros has always found it hard to make friends even as a kid. It’s been just the two of us for so long that it breaks my heart to think of her on her own, and if I’m being honest it’s the one thing that really worries me about dying.’ Ros was reaching for the door handle but she froze. Her dad laughed as her Uncle Pete said something. ‘I know,’ he said. ‘But if I could just see Ros settled in a relationship with someone decent, I’d rest easier knowing she wasn’t going to face this by herself after I’ve gone. I could die happy.’

Ros felt the lone tear slide down her cheek and had to swallow down the emotions bubbling inside her. She’d heard enough. She’d probably heard too much. She quietly opened the back door and slipped out.

Chapter Four

Ros put her mother’s contact details in a drawer and diarised a reminder to do something about it within the next two weeks. She figured that was enough time to have weighed up the pros and cons and completed a mental risk assessment. Although she knew her dad must be feeling desperate for her to not be alone if he had resorted to her mother. What with that and the eavesdropped conversation Ros had a lot going on and was feeling quite overwhelmed. Emotions weren’t her strong suit so when they were triggered it seemed to take up a lot of energy and all her headspace.

She knew she was lucky to have a friend like Darla and it was lovely that she was staying with Ros for a few days as there was a gap in the house-sitting jobs. Within the hour Darla and Ros were curled up on Ros’s sofa sipping glasses of well-chilled wine as Ros relayed the overheard conversation.

‘Chuffing heck. I wasn’t expecting that,’ said Darla when Ros had finished. ‘How are you feeling?’

Ros had to think for a moment. ‘Is it bad that I’m a bit cross?’ She felt awful for feeling that way. ‘I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve explained that I don’t need a blooming man to complete me and yet he still wants to see me in a relationship.’

‘But that wasn’t what he was saying. He even acknow-ledged that you’re a strong independent woman.’ They spontaneously clinked glasses at that. ‘He’s always been there for you unconditionally and he’s worried that when he goes you won’t have that anymore. I mean, you’ll have me and whilst I am frigging marvellous, it’s not the same,’ said Darla.

‘I’m frustrated that I can’t say anything. I can’t tell Dad that I’ll be fine on my own because then he’ll know I’ve been eavesdropping. But worst of all I feel so sad that with everything he’s dealing with, that’s what he’s worrying about and I can’t fix it.’

‘Being a strong independent woman doesn’t mean you can’t be in a secure, supportive relationship too. They’re not mutually exclusive. I mean they are about as easy to find as a dodo’s tooth, but some people seem to manage it.’

Ros sighed heavily. ‘I respect that but I think I’m better on my own. I don’t have the time or the inclination to search out a mate. It’s all a bit of an effort having someone else to constantly think about.’

Darla sipped her wine. ‘At least you’re not considering rushing into something just to put your dad’s mind at rest.’

‘And I feel bad about that too. It wouldn’t take too much effort to hook up with someone so Dad could go to his grave at peace. Would a good daughter do that?’

‘You’d hate yourself for it,’ said Darla. ‘And even if you could get past that, your dad is savvy enough to know if it was a casual fling, which is definitely not what he meant by wanting to see you settled.’

‘Then we’re agreed – there’s nothing I can do and I just need to forget about it.’ Ros nodded to herself as if in agreement. Although it was going to be very hard to stop her dad’s words from repeating in her head like a bad TikTok video.

They’d drunk enough wine so Ros went to make two cups of vanilla and camomile tea as she found it was good for helping her to relax, especially before bed. When she returned to the sofa Darla was scrolling through her phone.

‘Everything okay?’ asked Ros, passing her a mug.

‘I cleared another credit card this week. That’s one down, one to go.’

‘You’re doing really well. I think your parents would be proud of you if you told them.’

‘Maybe when it’s all over and I’ve got enough money to get my own place back in Oxford.’

‘You don’t plan to stay in Southampton then? I thought you liked it here.’ Ros didn’t like to think of Darla moving away. She had very few friends. To be precise, Darla was the only one.

‘I do, Southampton is great, but I feel I’ve got something to prove. Like I need to set everything straight so I can go home again. Not that I don’t like the house-sitting.’

‘But it’s not the same as your own place,’ added Ros.

‘It’s not. I’m still waiting on the agency to confirm my next job but don’t worry, I’ll definitely be out of your hair soon.’