‘Poor student, yeah I know. You’ve mentioned it once or twice.’
***
Late on Sunday morning Ros let herself into her dad’s place on The Avenue. The double-fronted early Victorian property had been her home for her teenage years. Ros didn’t need to announce her arrival as Gazza was already on it and was barking wildly as he cannoned into the hallway and proceeded to pogo around her, threatening to destroy her tights.
‘Down,’ she said to no effect at all. Her dad, Barry, had done some training with Gazza, and the little black dog could present his paw on command, but Barry’d taught him nothing that appeared to be useful. Apparently, he was a purebred Patterdale terrier but that didn’t mean anything to Ros.
‘Hello?’ called out Ros, shutting the front door.
‘Cabbage! Gazza always knows when it’s you,’ said Barry. Ros very much doubted that this was the case. The little dog was barely in control of his bodily functions and didn’t seem to be able to think beyond the next smell.
Ros went into the living room where her father was sitting in his favourite chair, looking a little paler and thinner than he used to. ‘Hi, Dad.’ She gave him a hug. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fair to middling,’ he said with a wan smile. ‘Always tired after radiotherapy. But we’re nearly at the end of my sessions.’
Ros sat down and Gazza dutifully went to lie down at Barry’s feet. ‘What happens next?’ she asked, mentally crossing her fingers, toes and anything else crossable.
Barry wobbled his head. ‘From what they tell me, we wait for a bit. Keep taking the tablets. Do some more tests and see. There was talk of a trial, some experimental thing they’ve not tested on many people yet but—’
‘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.
