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“Oh my gosh, Daddy! It’s so pretty! Is this my bed? Is it, is it?” Charlie bounced up and down on the spot, staring around Grant’s former bedroom with wide eyes.
“Well, let’s see, were you the one who chose the One Direction duvet set, or are you more into tasteful patchwork?”
“One Direction! One Direction!” Charlie went and leapt on the bed, throwing herself onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. “Those are really fancy lights.”
Grant followed her gaze to the fairy lights he’d strung up in a row across the ceiling. They had little star-shaped paper shades, and although they hadn’t been on the girls’ list, he’d thought they had a cute look that would fit right in with the rest of their choices. And besides, Charlie was still spooked by the dark, so they’d need some kind of soft night light in there.
“I’m glad you like them. What do you think, Izzy?” Isabelle’s reaction to the room had been typically far more restrained than her sisters, but Grant had spotted a faint smile.
“It’s nice. Thanks, Dad.”
“Can we see the rest of the house? Can we, can we?”
“It’s just a flat, sugarplum, and you’ve seen most of it already.” But Grant gave in to Charlie’s enthusiasm and showed her his bedroom—there had been just enough room to fit a small vanity table on each side of the king-size bed, but that was it—and then took her into the kitchen, where she proceeded to snoop inside every single cupboard. “Ooh, you got Pop Tarts! Mummy says we’re not allowed these anymore.”
“Well, you are here. Only the most vile, sugary junk food for my two princesses,” he teased. “Now, we’ve got about half an hour before I have to take you to your new riding lessons. What do you fancy doing? A snack or TV?”
“Can we have both? Ooh, you’ve got a great big telly. Has it got catch up?”
“It certainly has. Give me a yell if you can’t figure it out.” Charlie bounded off, while Grant started grilling toaster pastries to the blaring tones of You’ve Been Framed.
Four hours later, and Grant was making his way back to Bristol, with two very tired but excited girls in the back of his car. “Oh my gosh, Daddy, they let me ride this gorgeous pony called Anastasie. You would not believe what a sweetie she was!”
“I know, honeybun. I was there, remember?”
“But you were looking at your iPad.”
“Not all the time, I wasn’t.” Although there was always plenty to catch up on with work.
Grant half listened to their chatter, and half worried about the meal ahead. He needed to tell them this weekend. He’d agreed it with Harriet, and if he didn’t, it would look like he’d chickened out. But while coming out to his daughters was fine in his imagination—where they both gave him a big hug and told him it didn’t matter—doing it in reality was a whole different kettle of fish.
So he’d decided a restaurant would be the best place. Somewhere they couldn’t make a scene. “Where do you both want to go for dinner?” he asked. “There’s a great place down in town where they have an all-you-can-eat buffet of all different kinds of food.”
“Is there pizza?” Izzy asked.
“And chips?”
There’s pretty much anything you could want,” Grant said. They both cheered. Zaza Bazaar it was, then.
It wasn’t his usual kind of restaurant. Too busy and crowded for a start, but it was the perfect place for kids, and at least it was fairly anonymous. He wasn’t likely to run into anyone from work here.
He should have done the deed during their first helping of food—which for Charlie was ice cream, but he didn’t have the heart to argue with her—but he kept putting it off. Eventually they were sitting there, stuffed to the gills, and he was aware they only had another fifteen minutes of their allotted time here. It was now or never.
“So, there’s something I need to tell you both.” They looked at him expectantly. “Something important, about why I’m not living with your mother anymore.”
“Have you got a girlfriend?” Izzy demanded, her lower lip trembling. “I don’t want a stepmum. Especially not if she’s all young and bimbo-ish, like Carla’s stepmum.”
Grant vaguely recollected a fluffy young blonde—barely more than a teenager herself—coming to pick up Izzy’s friend once and winced. “No, I haven’t got a girlfriend.” He took a deep breath. “In fact, I’m not ever going to have a girlfriend.”
Charlie smiled and started playing with her napkin, muttering to herself, while Izzy stared daggers at him. “What do you mean? Is this some kind of trick? Have you married someone else already?”
“God, no, nothing like that. Izzy, Charlie, listen. Now, you know I’ve always been with your mother, and most people do grow up to fall in love with someone of the opposite sex, but sometimes it doesn’t work quite like that. Sometimes people are confused and try to convince themselves that’s what they want, but actually what they really want is something different.” Oh God, he was making an utter mess of this. Izzy’s lower lip was wobbling and she was giving him the most accusatory glare, while Charlie was more interested in her napkin than what he was saying. He scrubbed his face with his hand.
“What I’m trying to say, is that I’ve been one of those confused people. I tried to convince myself I was happy with your mother and our life together, but all along, what I really wanted was to be with a man, not a woman.”
“Oh my God!” Izzy got to her feet so fast, the chair fell over behind her. “I don’t believe it. Oh my God!” She wiped furiously at her eyes, grabbed her jacket from the floor and ran for the door.
“Izzy!” Grant was aware he was now the one making a scene, but he didn’t care. “Charlie, get up. We have to go after your sister.”
“Why? I think she’s gone to the toilet.”
“Charlie, come on!” Grant yanked on her arm, and she let go of her napkin reluctantly. He dragged her towards the door, somewhat unwillingly, but he couldn’t let Izzy go running off into the centre of Bristol all by herself. She was only thirteen. All the horrifying things that could happen to her ran through his head. Traffic accident. Abduction. Rape. Murder.
Oh God.
Grant raced down the stairs and slapped his hands down on the counter by the entrance. One of the young women working there gave him a cutting glare. “Excuse me, sir. There’s a queue.” She indicated a group of Japanese tourists, but Grant didn’t care if his drama spoilt their meal.
“My daughter, did you see her?” he demanded.
The young woman shrugged, but the other pointed at the door. “There was a teenager who just left in a hurry. That her?”
“Yes, God, which way did she go?”
“Umm, I think she headed towards the Square?”
Millennium Square. They’d walked through it on the way from the car park, and both of his daughters had wanted to stop and watch the fountains, but he’d hurried them along, wanting to get to the restaurant before the main evening crowd. It made sense Izzy would go back there. Fortunately, it was just around the corner, but this was one of the busiest parts of the city centre. Grant tugged on a complaining Charlie, dragging her with him outside. Thank God this was the kind of place where you paid as you entered, rather than on leaving.
“Izzy,” he yelled, not caring about the people turning to stare at him. “Izzy? Come back!”
He set off down the pedestrianised street. There was no sign of Izzy up ahead, and his progress was impeded by Charlie. “Come on. Hurry up! God, do you have to be such a slow-coach?”
“Stop being mean, Daddy. I’m tired,” Charlie wailed, and all of a sudden, it struck him. He was bullying a seven-year-old.
Way to go, Grant.
He dropped to his knees and hugged her. “Sorry, sweetie. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m just a bit worried about Izzy. Do you think you could run for a few minutes until we find her?”
“Running? Will you run with me? Really? Like a race?” Her face lit up with glee.
“That’s it. Like a race. On your marks, get set, go!” Grant took off down the road, keeping his pace to a slow jog to suit Charlie’s shorter legs. However, she was faster than he remembered, and he soon found himself having to speed up. Had it really been that long since he’d run with one of his children? He needed to do more of this kind of thing. He needed to spend quality time with them both. Help them find a way to all bond as a family again.
They rounded the corner, and Millennium Square stretched out ahead of them, with its fountains and the giant silver globe of the Planetarium. Would Izzy have gone in there? He ran into the centre of the square.
“Izzy!” he shouted, not caring that people were turning to look. “Izzy, where are you?” He scanned the square as best he could. It was well lit, but it was also a busy evening, and there were plenty of people making their way across it, heading for the Harbourside restaurants and bars.
“Daddy,” Charlotte whined, tugging at his hand.
“Not now, honey. Daddy’s looking for Izzy.”
“Daddy, she’s over there!”
Grant followed Charlie’s outstretched finger, and finally picked out Izzy, sitting on a bench by one of the fountains. She looked tiny all huddled over with the cold. Or perhaps misery, he thought, as he drew closer and saw the expression on her face.
He slowed down, approaching her carefully, but Charlie didn’t have the same qualms. She raced on ahead, yelling excitedly, “Hey, Izzy, you missed our race. Daddy and me had a race, and I won. And I found you. Want to run round the fountain with me? I bet I can beat you.”
Izzy raised her head and attempted something that looked like a smile. “Not now, Charlie. I’m not in the mood.”
“Daddy? Will you race with me?”
“I’d love to, sugarplum, but I think you’ve worn me out. How about I sit here with Izzy, and we can be your audience while you race?”
“Okay, that sounds cool.” Charlie clearly had energy to burn, darting off before he’d even planted his bum on the bench. He hoped she didn’t make herself sick after the big meal she’d just had, but he wasn’t about to stop her if it meant he got to talk to Izzy in peace.
Grant kept his eyes fixed on the fountain, trying to work out where to begin. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry...”
“Sorry for what? Sorry you’re gay?” Her voice broke on the last word.
“No, not exactly.” God, how to explain? “I’m sorry I let everyone down. Your mother. You and Charlie. None of you deserved this breakup, but there wasn’t any other way. I couldn’t carry on living a lie.”
“But can’t you just try harder? If you stayed with Mum, maybe you wouldn’t be gay anymore.”
“Believe me, sweetheart, I’ve been trying that for a long time, but it just doesn’t work like that. I convinced myself that I could just be straight if I tried hard enough. If I didn’t let myself think about...other men. But I couldn’t fool myself any longer, and I couldn’t keep lying to rest of you either. I needed to tell you the truth.”
“Well, I don’t want the truth. I don’t want to think about you doing things like kissing and stuff with other men. It’s gross.”
“Yes, but you used to think girls kissing boys was gross too.”
Izzy pursed her lips. “It kind of is. I don’t know.”
“Have you kissed any boys yet?” Grant asked.
“No way! They’re all disgusting.” She paused and screwed up her face. “Daddy, I’m not going to turn into a lesbian, am I?”
Grant chuckled and threw his arm around her. “I doubt it, sweetie. You’re still young, and you’ll probably get more interested in kissing boys when you get older. Believe it or not, I had no interest in kissing anyone at all till I was about fifteen, so there’s plenty of time.” Izzy’s body melted against his. “And if you do turn out to be a lesbian, then that’s fine too. There’s nothing wrong with fancying people who are the same sex as you.”
“Then why did you pretend for so long?”
“It was different back then. People weren’t as accepting.” Or was he just making excuses for himself? He’d never have known if they were, because he never tried coming out. But it did seem to be different for youngsters nowadays. “These days there are loads of positive role models for gay people. Most people don’t care if you’re gay, lesbian, bi or whatever.”
“That’s not true.” Izzy’s voice was tiny. “At school, the boys are always calling each other gay. And not in a nice way.”
“They’ll grow out of it,” Grant assured her. “I expect some of them are just worried because they think they might be that way themselves.”
“Really?” She took a moment to think that one through. “I don’t want them to find out that you’re gay, though. I’ll get teased all the time.”
“There’s no reason they have to know.”
“Dad, you told Charlie!”
“Oh.” He hadn’t thought that through. Charlie was hardly known for her tact and discretion. “But look, she doesn’t go to the same school as you anymore. You’ve got a couple of years before she starts there.”
“But what about when I have friends round? People will find out, Dad, I know they will.”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I can’t help being the way I am, any more than you can help loving horses and struggling with maths. There are some parts of ourselves we just don’t get to choose.”
Izzy closed her eyes and sighed.
“It’s not the end of the world, sweetheart. Having a gay dad could be fun. Apparently, it means I’m really into colours and handbag shopping and so on.”
Izzy snorted. “Don’t be silly. You’re not going to suddenly change into someone else, are you? Anyway, you’re fine the way you are.”
“Even if it means I like men?”
She rolled her eyes. “Even then, I guess.”
“So no more running away?”
She looked up at him for the first time. “No. Just no more big surprises like that, please. If you get a boyfriend, I want a warning. Pictures and all that kind of thing first. It’ll be better for Charlie that way too. She’s only seven.”
Not for the first time, Grant found himself wondering if there was anything to that “old souls” line that some people claimed. He’d often thought his daughter seemed wise beyond her years. But then she’d go and do something incredibly childish that made him rethink.
Not this time, though. Izzy just hugged him tighter and whispered, “Love you, Dad,” into his ear.
“Love you too, sugarplum.” Grant basked in the rare show of affection from Izzy, determined to enjoy it for as long as he could. Relief coursed through him, and as his body unwound, he realised just how much tension he’d been carrying for so long. Now the two most important people in the world knew about him being gay, and they were both okay with it. Or as okay as could be expected right now, anyway. Charlie was still running around the fountain, and Grant kept an eye on her too. A trio of staggering men—their arms all round each other’s shoulders—were a little too close for comfort.
“Hey, honey, you want a hug too?” he called out.
“Whoa, posh suit? That you?” one of the drunk men slurred in a familiar voice. Familiar and downright unwelcome right now.
Dare? Here? Drunk?
And being all touchy-feely with two other men—both of them striking in their own way. One well-built blond and a tall black bloke with an afro. Jealousy warred with an urge to protect his daughters, but there was no contest, really. Izzy had just told him she didn’t want any surprises. Grant gave Dare a forbidding look and shook his head minutely, then went to stand up. “Come on, girls. Time we were heading home. Daddy’s getting chilly sitting out here.”
He turned away from Dare.
“Hey, you just gonna ignore me, then? Yeah, always knew you were a scht—stuck-up bastard. Well, don’t expect to be welcome back at mine later.” There were more muttered, incoherent insults, but by now, Grant was too far away to hear them.
“Daddy? Who was that man?” Izzy asked.
“I’ve no idea. Just someone who’d had a bit too much to drink and mistook me for someone else.” Time for a quick change of subject. “So, what do you think we should do when we get home? How about hot chocolate and a film?”
He wasn’t going to turn back, no matter what Dare yelled out at him.