Dad gave Ella a crooked smile and reached over his vast stomach with his left arm – the good one – to take her hand.
‘How are you feeling?’ she asked him.
He made a so-so gesture with his left hand. A few minutes earlier we’d witnessed him walk awkwardly across the hospital ward with a nurse. Now he was resting.
‘Can’t you talk any more, Grandad?’
‘I told you, love,’ Mum said. ‘He’s having a few problems with his speech because of the stroke. But look how well he was walking just now. He’ll be back to normal in no time, won’t you, Tom?’
Dad’s face had become so gaunt that it looked out of place on top of his huge body. It was the first time Ella had seen her grandfather for a few days and it wasn’t easy for her. Her eyes searched out mine, looking for support.
‘You’re doing great,’ I whispered. ‘Just keep talking to him like you normally would.’
He had a sudden coughing fit. Mum rushed to his aid, pouring him some water from a jug at his bedside. As she fussed around him, I reassured Ella it was nothing to worry about.
‘You will get better soon, won’t you?’ Ella asked him once he was settled again. ‘I miss you. We all do – even Sam. He told me this morning in doggie language. Auntie Lauren would have come as well, but she had to do food shopping.’
I could see Dad’s eyes welling up, which in turn made me feel emotional. Although I’d visited him in hospital a few times now, I couldn’t get used to seeing him in this state. It was so … not Dad. He’d always been such a strong, powerful presence in my life. The only chink in his armour had been his fondness for drinking and smoking – his two big crutches – and food too, I suppose. But he’d always appeared to have those things under control. I couldn’t once remember him being drunk. And his size had never seemed to get in the way of him doing anything. He’d always been like an iceberg, slowly sliding through life, carrying along the people and things that mattered and pushing away those that didn’t.
Was Dad’s and my relationship a close one? Yes and no. He wasn’t someone I’d ever felt comfortable telling my deepest secrets or greatest fears. We’d never done man-hugs or talked about our feelings together. However, Dad had always been there for me when I needed him. After Alice died, Mum had been amazing at helping me to deal with my grief and to care for Ella. But it was Dad who’d got me through all the practical stuff, like organizing the funeral, handling the will and informing all the necessary people. I’d always been able to depend on him for these kinds of things.
Dad might never have specifically told me that he loved me – not since I was a child, at least – but the unwavering support he’d given me over the years said plenty. He’d done even more for Lauren, so I couldn’t understand why she was being so tough on him. Okay, this affair thing was shocking and painful, but it wasn’t a deal breaker. He was still our father. He’d stuck by us through thick and thin and deserved the same in return, especially in his current fragile state of health.
Besides, how could I blame Dad for what he’d done? I was no better. I knew how easy it was to get sucked in. I also knew that Dad’s actions, whatever they were, didn’t necessarily mean that he no longer loved Mum.
The seed of that thought threw me into the past. It was a full-blown flashback: the vivid kind that appears of its own volition and takes you along for the ride, like it or not. I could smell the sweet allure of her perfume – a heady mix of vanilla and almonds. I could feel the excitement of her grinding against me with a promise of more.
Her.
The other woman.
My dirty little secret.
The guilt was just a seed back then: a fragment of what it would become, pushed into the background by booze and desire. If only I’d stopped myself. If only that was as far as it had gone. But I hadn’t. It wasn’t.
Like father, like son.
I snapped back to the present as Dad nodded and gave Ella’s hand a squeeze. He looked like he was about to try to speak but then thought better of it. Instead, he twisted himself awkwardly towards the bedside cabinet and reached over to pick up a notepad and pen. Unfortunately, he knocked over the water jug in the process, sending Mum into a flap. She raced off to find some tissues.
‘What a mess,’ Mum puffed as she knelt on the floor, frantically mopping up the water. ‘Why on earth did you try to reach over by yourself, Tom?’
‘Come on, Mum,’ I said. ‘It was an accident. Give the man a break. Ella, keep talking to him. Let him know that it’s all right. Nana doesn’t mean to snap like that. She’ll calm down again in a minute.’
Dad lay quietly on the bed, staring at the ceiling, his contorted face a mixture of frustration and embarrassment.
‘Don’t worry, Grandad,’ Ella whispered into his ear after shuffling over to the dry side of the bed. ‘At least it was only water.’
Dad turned and looked fondly at his granddaughter. He slowly raised his good hand and traced one finger down the side of her face.
‘I love you, Grandad,’ she whispered. ‘I really hope you get better soon.’
He ruffled her hair and gave her a little wink.
Meanwhile, Mum stood up with a groan, rubbing her knees. ‘These hard floors are not meant for kneeling on. Not at my age.’ She lifted the sodden clump of wet tissue from the floor and dropped it into Dad’s now-empty jug. ‘I’m going to put this in the bin,’ she told him. ‘I’ll fill you up a fresh jug while I’m at it. No more knocking it over, please.’
Addressing Ella, she added: ‘You’ll be all right on your own with him for a couple of minutes, won’t you?’
Ella nodded.
‘Good girl. If there’s any problem, you just have to press that button and one of the nurses will be over in a flash.’
‘Okay.’
As soon as she’d gone, Dad picked up the pad and pen and started writing. When he passed Ella the note, I moved behind her so I could also see it. If I’d been a cartoon character, my eyes would have stretched out of their sockets as I read the words: Can you see him too?
‘You can see Daddy?’ Ella asked as I gaped at my father.
He nodded, frowning at me before reaching for the pad again. This time he simply wrote: How?
‘How?’ I repeated, still getting my bearings following this unexpected turn of events. ‘How what? How can you see me? How come I’m here?’
He nodded again twice.
I looked to Ella for support. ‘Just tell him, Dad,’ she said.
‘Well. I, um. I’m … a spirit. I found myself like this as soon as I died and I’ve been hanging around ever since. Ella was the only one who could see me until now. The only one I knew about, anyway. It took a lot of effort to get through to her. I never expected it to happen with anyone else. How long have you been able to see me?’
Dad turned back to the notepad and wrote two more words: Since stroke.
‘Really? Wow. You hid that well. I guess the stroke must be something to do with it, then. Why didn’t you say anything sooner?’
Thought gone mad, he wrote in reply.
I laughed. ‘Yeah, I can understand that. He’s not mad, though, is he, Ella?’
‘No. Daddy really is here, Grandad. I’m so happy you can see him too. It’s—’
‘Shh,’ I said as Mum approached with the fresh water. ‘Not in front of Nana.’
It was hard to keep quiet after that, especially as Ella kept looking over at me and grinning, but I was determined to keep things normal in front of Mum. How had I not noticed Dad looking at me before? Had he hidden it that well? Or had I grown so used to being invisible that I’d stumbled blindly past obvious clues?
When it was time for us to go, Dad beckoned Mum over and whispered something into her ear. She didn’t understand him at first and then, after he repeated himself, there was a look of horror on her face. No, Dad, what have you said? I thought, fearing the worst.
‘You want your phone?’
Dad nodded.
‘Your smartphone?’
He nodded again, seeming to miss the pertinence of Mum’s second question.
‘Why? What use will it be if you can’t talk? I thought mobile phones weren’t allowed in hospitals.’
Dad indicated that they were permitted on the ward. He wanted it as a way to communicate: a quicker version of the notepad. A little of the colour returned to Mum’s cheeks once she understood his intention.
As we left I promised to return soon for a one-to-one chat. Dad looked troubled by this, actually recoiling when I approached him, but he gave a short nod of his head in reply.
Back at the car Ella asked Mum, who was still visibly shaken, if she was okay.
‘I’m fine, darling. Don’t worry about me. I should be the one asking how you are. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about your daddy. You seem to be managing so well, but you must be missing him terribly. I know I am. We can talk about it any time you like. It doesn’t have to be now, if you don’t want to, but I’m always here for you. And it doesn’t matter if it makes you upset. That’s normal. It’s not something to be embarrassed about.’
Ella gave me a sideways glance before replying. ‘Thanks, Nana. I’m fine at the moment.’
‘Are you sure, darling?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well, I mean what I say. Whenever you do want to talk about it, just let me know. Any time you like. And if you don’t want to talk to me, there’s always Auntie Lauren instead. Or we could even arrange for you to talk to someone independent.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘A counsellor,’ Mum replied. ‘Do you know what that is?’
‘Someone from the council?’
‘No. That’s different. The kind of counsellor I mean is someone who can help you discuss things you find it hard to talk about. They can help you understand your feelings about difficult things, like losing your dad, so you can come to terms with them.’
‘But I’m all right, Nana. Really.’
‘I know, love. But I’m concerned that you’re bottling things up. You almost seem to be managing too well. Just have a think about what I said, anyway.’
‘Okay.’
Mum paused before adding: ‘The other thing we need to talk about is, um, what to do with your daddy’s ashes.’
Ella looked at me, next to her in the back of the car, and grimaced. The urn containing my remains had been on the sideboard in the dining room ever since Dad had collected it from the crematorium.
‘I know the idea is a bit creepy,’ I told her, ‘but it’s better to put them somewhere nice than to keep them in the house. That’s what I did with your mummy’s ashes. I scattered them into a lake at a park she loved in London.’
I remembered it well. It had been just before we moved back up north. Mum and Dad had come with me and they stayed with Ella on dry land as I hired a pedal boat and headed out alone into the middle of the lake. It was a warm afternoon in early autumn, the gold-tinged leaves just starting to accept their looming demise. This had been the place where I’d proposed to Alice, here in the middle of the lake on an almost identical boat. I was still in bits, although I’d been doing my best to hold it together in front of the others. As soon as I was alone, the tears started streaming. I pedalled ahead, on and on, averting my eyes whenever I passed another boat. Eventually I found a quiet spot, opened my rucksack and carefully lifted out the urn. I stood on my seat, doing my best to keep my balance, removed the lid and spun it around in the air.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t quite the moving send-off I’d planned. It was windy that day and there was a gust just as I released my wife’s ashes, meaning half of them ended up back in the boat and all over me. I had bits in my eyes, my mouth and stuck to my sodden cheeks. Frantically, I fought to remove them. Then I used my hands to scoop the rest out of the boat and into the water.
It was what I deserved, I told myself. What right did I have to play the devoted widower after cheating on my pregnant wife? It had only happened once and I’d felt absolute regret ever since. I’d sworn to myself that nothing like that would ever happen again. But why had I allowed it to take place, encouraged it even? A need to prove I still had it, perhaps, in the face of impending parenthood. I’d debated endlessly whether or not to come clean to Alice but concluded it was a bad idea to upset her while pregnant. I’d sworn to myself that I would tell her at a later date, but I never got the chance to see if I had the guts to do it.
Now I was receiving everyone’s pity when all I deserved was their disdain. The truth of the matter was that Alice and I might no longer have been together if she’d known what I’d done.
When I’d finally finished clearing up the ashes, I vowed never to tell another soul what had just happened. ‘Alice,’ I said. ‘I don’t know where you are right now – if you’re even anywhere any more – but I’m so incredibly sorry for what I did to you and for messing this up now. You deserved so much better. All I can promise you is that I’ll spend the rest of my life doing everything I can to nurture and protect our daughter. I won’t let you down again.’
Who knew the rest of my life would be so short?
I smiled at Ella, sitting next to me in the car, and thought how proud Alice would have been of her; how much she would have loved her daughter.
‘Where do you think your daddy would have liked his ashes to be scattered?’ Mum asked her.
Ella raised her eyebrows at me.
‘You’re asking me?’ I said, to which she replied with a tiny nod. ‘Gosh. I haven’t given it any thought. Um … I don’t know. I’m happy for you to choose. Is there somewhere special you can think of?’
‘What about the beach near where we stayed at Cornwall?’
‘Oh, right,’ Mum said. ‘Yes. I’d not thought of that. Wouldn’t you prefer him to be somewhere closer?’
‘That sounds like the perfect place to me, Ella,’ I said, smiling at the memory of our reunion there in her dream. ‘Just make sure it’s a nice calm day.’
‘I’d really like to do it there, Nana. I know Daddy would like it too.’
‘Very well. We might have to wait a bit, though. It’s a long journey.’