The next day, I can see Nan watching for me from her window. Hear her voice when I’m in the hall. ‘Hurry up, Robyn, you’re late. I’m going out tonight, believe it or not, with a man.’
‘Who?’
‘He’ll be in the Throstles Nest at eight o’clock and his name’s Eddie.’
I sit down in my place on the settee, Anne of Green Gables in my pocket. Nan brings in a box of day-old cakes from Sayers. She puts the box under my nose. ‘You get first choice, putting yourself out for an old codger like me.’
I take an egg custard. ‘You’re not that old, Nan, you’ve got a date.’
‘It’s not a date,’ she says, taking a cake from the box. ‘It’s a meeting that’s all, with loads of other people around.’ She takes the empty box into the kitchen.
I take out the book, the sun comes out and lights up a half–moon shape on one side of the page.
‘I might not go yet,’ Nan says. ‘If I do, I’ll be the talk of the wash house.’ In front of the mirror she pats her hair into place and winks. ‘I suppose I could go around the block one more time before I die.’
‘You’re not going to die, Nan.’
‘Not yet, I hope. But I will some day.’
‘But you’re not really, really old. Are you?’
Nan doesn’t say anything. Just looks at me and I know it’s a question without a word answer.
When I’ve finished reading, Nan can’t sit still. She fusses over crumbs, washes through a tea towel in the sink and stays in the toilet for ages. When she finally sits down I say, ‘Can you remember anything else about my dad?’
She shakes her head. ‘There’s nothing more to tell.’
I get up to leave. ‘Are you sure, Nan? Please tell me, I promise I won’t ask again.’
‘Oh Robyn, you should know, you’re old enough. Promise me you’ll let what I tell you lie.’
I sit back down. ‘I promise,’ I say.
She crosses herself. ‘On Granddad Jack’s life?’
I cross myself. ‘On Granddad Jack’s life.’
‘I know his name.’
I lean forward. ‘But you said you couldn’t remember.’
‘I lied. It’s Robert, but everyone called him Bob.’
‘Bob what?’
‘Bob Naylor.’
For a minute I say nothing. My belly drops like a stone too far down. My mind races through all of the horrible thoughts I’ve had about Mrs Naylor. And how she says I’ve got the divil in me. And I think maybe she means a different Naylor from miles and miles away. But then I look up at Nan’s face and see that it’s hopeless trying to pretend.
‘Does she know about me?’
‘I don’t think so. And you promised …’
‘I know. But Mrs Naylor’s …’
‘But Bob wasn’t like her. He was more like his dad, gentle and just nice.’
I don’t know what to say.
‘He’s married now, love. I asked around. You need to know he’s got a couple of kids, a boy and a girl. So you see, unless he comes looking for you, it could cause him a whole lot of bother. But you have a right to know about him. And I’m glad I told you, love. It’s best you know.’
I start to cry. Loads of salty tears drench my lips.
Nan gets up and puts her arm around me. ‘I’m so sorry. But it’s best you know.’ She takes a hanky from her pinny pocket and hands it to me. ‘And I’m not meeting my maker holding onto a secret like that.’
I dab my face. ‘What use is knowing if I can’t change anything?’ I ask. ‘Does he ever come and see his mum?’
‘As far as I know, Bob fell out with her years ago. She treated her husband like dirt; he was so unhappy, he drank himself into an early grave. Bob couldn’t bear that. Everything Gwyn Naylor ever loved she crushed.’
I know so much about my dad now. I know his name, I know his mother, I know he has a wife and kids and I know he’s my dad. I know all of this and it all means nothing. Knowing it makes me feel useless.
I imagine he waits at the bottom of the block for me on my birthday. It’s Saturday; he wants to make it a special surprise. He holds my hand in the queue while we wait to go in. My first time at the game. I fling the rattle above my head and shout, Come on the reds.
In my dreams we’re in the football match queue and his real wife and kids turn up. They pull my hand out of his and say, Who are you? When I tell them he’s my dad they flip and chase me away. They scream after me to leave him alone. I shout back at them, I don’t need him anyway, I don’t need anybody. I can look after myself.