Tuesday 27 December
Afternoon tea
Date and walnut cake
Dinner menu
Italian meat and cheese antipasti
***
Classic spaghetti carbonara
***
Raspberry semifreddo
I wake, sweating, from a very odd dream.
I’m sitting in a Jeep next to Indiana Jones and we’re bouncing along this forest track desperately searching for some sacred temple or other. I’m panicking a bit because we need to get there before the bad guys catch up with us. But I’m feeling fairly safe with the fearless Mr Jones at my side. I mean, who wouldn’t? The man is rock solid. A legend.
But just as we enter the temple and are about to finally get our hands on the ancient and mysterious Pink Flamingo Diamond that is sure to save the human race from immediate extinction, I’m seized by an ape of a man with huge muscles, wearing nothing more than a loin cloth and a very sexy smile. Indiana Jones charges to my rescue and the two of them roll around on the ground, panting and getting filthy. Then Mimi Blenkinsop, in a black catsuit and mask, appears from nowhere, looking even more evil than usual, and threatens me with death by steak-and-kidney pie if I don’t get to my shift at the restaurant on time. Those pies are deceptively solid, which is why I wake up sweating.
I lie there for a second, wondering who would have eventually triumphed. Indiana Jones? Or the ape man? I guess I’ll never know.
Then as the dream fades, my memory of the day before – the devastating shock of realising I’ve fallen hard for Jed Turner – swoops into my mind, obliterating all other thoughts.
Groaning, I faceplant the pillow in despair, bumping my nose and making my eyes water. I don’t often swear. But what the fuck am I supposed to do now? Harrison will be back in precisely four days’ time and he’ll be asking me to marry him again. He’ll want to know if, after careful consideration during our cooling-off period, my answer is still ‘yes’?
What will I say to him?
A moment later, I sit up straight and rub my nose.
I’ll say ‘yes’, of course. Harrison and I were meant to be together. I’ve always had a sense of destiny about our meeting, and I’m not going to let what’s probably just a silly crush on Jed Turner spoil my future with Harrison.
All the same, when someone raps on the bedroom door, panic flutters in my throat for a second. What if it’s Harrison himself, back home early and wanting an answer now?
But of course it’s not. It’s Mum and she looks anxious.
‘What’s wrong?’ I ask, sitting up.
‘I’ve been thinking, love. I need to get all that stuff out of the bungalow. Now. I’ve hardly slept all night thinking about it. Do you think we could hire a skip and do it today?’
I stare at her, speechless. There are bright spots in her cheeks and her eyes are darting about as if she can’t settle. She looks exhausted – as if she really has been up all night thinking about her house.
I hold out my hand and pat the side of my bed. ‘Come and sit down and we can talk about it.’
She perches on the very edge of the bed. ‘Probably the best thing to do would be to get a skip and a handyman, don’t you think? Then he can get rid of the lot in one go.’ She frowns. ‘Maybe three skips?’
I smile. ‘Yes, I think it would take at least three. But Mum, while I think it’s great that you want to tackle your house, I’m not sure just getting rid of the lot without sorting through it is the right thing to do.’
‘Why not?’ She looks alarmed. ‘I thought you’d be pleased.’
‘I am.’ I smile encouragingly. ‘It’s great that you’re thinking about it. I just think we need to tackle the reason for your hoard – er, collecting, otherwise the house will just fill up again. Do you see?’
She nods. ‘I’m not having counselling, though.’
‘Okay. Well, we could definitely start going through your things, room by room, and you could decide what you want to keep and what you want to donate to the charity shop? How about that?’
Her chin wobbles and she tries to hide it with a smile. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without you, love.’
We hug and she goes off to make some tea, and I lie there thinking about our conversation. That seems like progress to me. The shock of the fire seems to have flicked a switch in her brain, making her realise the dangerous way she’s been living. I can’t help thinking a professional trained in this sort of thing would do a much better job with her than me, though. Still, I’m more hopeful than I’ve ever been that Mum will get through this and come out the other side, more like the strong, independent person she used to be.
I’m cooking at the cabin tonight so, after an early lunch, I pack a box with the food I need and take it out to the car. My heart is already doing energetic star jumps at the thought of seeing Jed again. Oh God, I’m going to have to avoid him if I can – which will be pretty hard since I’m supposed to be serving him dinner. I’ll get Erin to do it instead. I just need to get through the next few days, giving him as wide a berth as possible, and then I’ll never have to see Jed Turner ever again.
The bag of clothes and the box of papers is still in the boot from yesterday, so I take them inside and push the smoky, smelly clothes into the washing machine and set it off. I’m about to put the lid-less box into a cupboard to tackle some other time when my eye catches my name on an envelope inside it. Addressed to me, it’s still sealed.
Puzzled, I glance at the postmark.
Napoli.
Heart beating fast, I stare at the handwriting. The only person I know who lives in Italy …
With trembling fingers, I quickly slit open the envelope and pull out the single sheet within.
My dearest Poppy,
How wonderful to meet you at last! I have never enjoyed a Christmas as much as the one I spent with you and your mother last week. What fun it was teaching you how to make the pasta and getting very cold swimming in the lake. And of course having the best snowball fight ever!
It was also lovely to be with Donna again, although I am not sure she felt quite the same! I know she thinks only of you in everything she does. You have a very brilliant, kind and beautiful mother, and you will grow up to be just like her.
I hope you are very well and happy, chica. We will meet again very soon, I am sure of this.
Love from
Alessandro
In shock and wonder, I glance at the envelope. The letter was sent just a few days into the New Year. January 1999. He must have written to me as soon as he got back to Italy after the Christmas we spent together.
But why did I never receive this letter? Why was it in this box?
Confused, I go in search of Mum. She’s in the living room watching a game show.
‘Mum, why was this letter from Alessandro at your place, unopened?’ I hold it up, my heart drumming fast. ‘Do you remember it arriving?’
She stares at it, as if shocked at the sound of Alessandro’s name.
‘Where was it?’ she asks at last.
‘In a box with other papers and official letters.’
‘Oh.’ Her eyes slide away, back to the TV screen.
I stare at her, my brain ticking over rapidly. ‘Did you know it was there? Were you keeping it from me?’ I’m barely able to believe what I’m asking her.
Mum swallows but continues staring at the TV screen, her lips pressed together.
‘He says he’ll see me soon, but he never came back. Is that because I didn’t reply? Because you never actually let me read my letter?’ My voice sounds hollow and strange to me, and the whole situation feels unreal, as if it’s happening to someone else. ‘All along I’ve thought that the reason he didn’t return was that he simply didn’t care about me. That’s what I’ve come to believe.’
Mum turns. ‘No. It wasn’t like that at all,’ she says firmly. ‘I could tell that time he was here, he thought you were … enchanting.’
‘Enchanting?’ I snap. ‘That’s a strange word to use. I don’t think I’ve ever been described as enchanting!’
‘That was his word,’ she says softly. ‘About you.’
I should feel happy. But instead, I feel cold all over. ‘Why didn’t you give me the letter, Mum?’
Her mouth is trembling. She sits forward in the armchair and mumbles something, rubbing her temples distractedly.
‘Sorry?’
She looks up at me, her eyes full of anguish. ‘I thought it was for the best. I honestly did.’
‘For the best?’ I shake my head in disbelief. ‘How could it be for the best?’
She swallows hard. ‘I still had hopes back then that you, me and Martin could be a proper, loving family. And I had to make it work because I swore when you were born that I would give you a dad. That’s why I married Martin. But I knew that if Alessandro became part of your life, Martin would be jealous and he’d make life even more difficult for us.’ She shrugs. ‘I didn’t care about me. But I couldn’t bear him being cold with you. That used to break my heart and I knew if Alessandro was around, it would get worse. So I thought if I kept his letters, he would eventually—’
‘Hold on. Letters? There were others?’
She nods. ‘He wrote to you every fortnight for six months. I—’ Her voice sounds strangled, as if she can barely get the words out. ‘I burned them. I must have missed that one.’
I’m so stunned, I can’t speak for a moment. I take a long, slow breath to try and gather myself together. ‘But he was my dad. He came to see me and it was one of the best times of my life. You knew that. I just don’t understand how you could deliberately keep us apart.’
She whispers something I can’t quite catch. Then she clears her throat and repeats it a little louder: ‘I thought I might lose you.’
‘How would you lose me?’
She sighs. ‘I knew you weren’t happy at home, with Martin in our lives. I thought if you got to know Alessandro, you’d love him so much, you might decide you wanted to go and live with him instead. And I really couldn’t have borne that.’
I stare at her incredulously. ‘I’d never have left you!’
‘But you might have,’ she whispers, staring at me beseechingly, willing me to understand.
I shake my head. ‘Of course I wouldn’t.’ My throat is so choked up, I can barely get the words out. ‘I just wanted to have my real dad in my life. Was that really too much to ask?’
Close to breaking down completely, I blunder out of the room and flee upstairs.
Lying on my bed, I stare at the ceiling, trying to get used to the idea that my dad – my real dad – thought I was enchanting and wanted to spend time with me. He really wanted to be part of my life. How terrible for him, then, that his letters to me went unanswered. What must he have thought when I didn’t reply? How can I ever forgive Mum for causing us both such grief? I know she was worried she’d lose me but it was still a terrible thing to do, burning those letters. Even she must know that.
Then a single, perfect thought breaks through the chaos in my head.
My dad loved that Christmas just as much as I did!
The tears that spring to my eyes are bitter sweet. If only I’d known that when I was twelve. What a difference it would have made to my life.
Mum tries to talk to me as I get ready to leave for the cabin, but I’m not in the mood for her attempts at an apology. There’s nothing she can possibly say that will ever make it better.
Erin is horrified when I tell her. ‘I can’t imagine how you must feel, knowing you could have had your dad in your life all that time.’
‘I don’t even know where he is now. I Google him from time to time but there’s never any trace of him.’ I swing the car off the track at the Log Fire Cabin and park up. ‘He lived and worked in Naples when I met him all those years ago. But he’s probably moved from there now. He could be anywhere in Italy.’ I switch off the engine and look across at Erin. ‘When I was eighteen, I went looking for him on the island of Capri.’
Erin’s eyes widen. ‘What happened?’
I laugh softly. ‘I didn’t find him. Obviously. He’d mentioned that he wanted to live there one day and, like the daft, innocent teenager I was, I really believed that if I went to the island, I’d find him.’
Her smile is sad and full of empathy. ‘Isn’t there an address on that letter you have?’
I nod. ‘There’s a telephone number as well. I tried phoning it but the number was unobtainable. No wonder. He wrote that letter eighteen years ago!’
‘You could try writing to the address. Whoever lives there now might know where he’s moved to.’
I groan. ‘Bit of a long shot, but I will try.’
‘You should. And keep Googling him. And maybe try Twitter? And Facebook? You never know, one day …’
She trails off and we look at each other gloomily. We both know the chances of finding him after all this time are very slim.
We sit in silence for a while, staring at the cabin. Then Erin heaves a sigh and says, ‘It must be the day for shocks. I’m now fairly certain Mark is cheating on me.’
I swing round. ‘Really? Why? What’s happened?’ Perhaps she’s seen him with that red-haired girl?
She shrugs. ‘This morning he said he was going in to work to tie up a few loose ends, which I thought was a bit strange because it’s a bank holiday. I phoned the office but there was no reply, so I went down to the office in person but the whole building was dark and locked up. When I asked him about it, he told me some nonsense about not having been able to get in so he went for a walk and bumped into an old mate of his.’ She rolls her eyes at me. ‘They went for a drink, apparently.’
I frown, thinking about this. ‘Maybe he did. Go for a drink?’
She shakes her head. ‘He looked really awkward. I could tell he was lying.’
‘Shit.’
‘I know.
‘What are you going to do?’
She heaves a despairing sigh. ‘What can I do? Accuse him of seeing someone else when I haven’t actually got any proof?’
‘But you can’t carry on like this, just hoping against hope that you’re wrong. You’ll go round the bend.’
She frowns but says nothing.
And right then, I decide it’s time I put my plan into action. I’m going to tackle Mark myself. I’ve been putting off doing it because, like Erin, I can’t bear to imagine Mark has fallen for someone else. But I can’t avoid it any longer. If he’s cheating, he’s cheating. And it will be terrible. But Erin needs to know.
I’m going to find out once and for all.
*
It’s a relief to be cooking at the cabin tonight. It means I don’t have to be around Mum.
I’m feeling surprisingly calm, all things considered. Until Clemmy comes in to ask about Mum and happens to mention that Jed is out tonight for a meal with Katerina, and won’t be having dinner here.
I’m weirdly relieved yet achingly disappointed all at once, and I feel annoyed with myself that it should matter at all.
Just before we serve up, I manage to snatch some time to phone Harrison. He’s just leaving for the flamenco-dance competition and he seems a bit distracted.
‘Your dad?’ he asks, when I tell him about the letter I found. ‘You mean, Martin?’
‘No. My real dad. You know, the one who came to see me when I was twelve.’
I told Harrison all about Alessandro when we first met, so I’m a little irritated that he seems quite vague on the subject.
‘But didn’t he forget all about you after he went back to Italy?’ he points out. ‘Do you really want someone like that in your life? I think not.’ There’s a crackling noise as he presumably covers the phone. ‘Coming, Mother.’
‘But that’s the point, Harrison. Harrison? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, sorry. Mum’s anxious to leave.’
And I’m anxious for him to share in this amazing news about my dad! ‘The thing is, Harrison, he didn’t turn his back on me. He wrote me lots of letters but Mum intercepted them so I never saw them. He wanted me in his life! Isn’t that amazing? I always thought he didn’t care. But he did! And I’m determined I’m going to find him.’
‘Good. Great! Listen, I’m going to have to dash, Puss. We can talk about this another time, okay?’
My heart sinks. I’ve recently started to realise that ‘talking about it another time’ generally means we never do – unless I bring it up again. It’s Harrison’s code for I’m bored with this. How can I wriggle out of the conversation without seeming rude?
‘Okay. Good luck tonight.’
‘Thanks, Puss. Toodlepip!’ he says cheerfully, totally missing the sharpness of my tone.
He sounds as if he can’t wait to get off the phone. And he seems in a very upbeat mood. In fact, I’m beginning to wonder if Harrison protests too much – if all the talk about being a rubbish dancer and only doing it for his mother is actually a cover for the fact that he’s developed a bit of a passion for it!
I’m still annoyed, though.
Surely good news about my dad is far more important than his stupid contest. It’s not as if he’s competing in Strictly Come Dancing, for goodness’ sake.
Later, at home, I lie in bed, our conversation going round and round in my head, wishing Harrison could be a little more interested in what’s going on in my life. Because, so often, our life revolves around what he’s doing. The talk is always about his promotion and never about what I’d like to do in my career. I’m always really supportive of his hobbies, even though drain covers quite frankly bore me to tears. But I’ve made an effort to be interested because they’re his passion. Sometimes I feel that our relationship is rather one-sided.
I’d been keen to tell him all about the letter and Alessandro. I’d thought he’d be happy for me and might even help me work out a way I could start looking for my dad. But he didn’t seem to realise what a big deal it was for me. He was off the phone in a jiffy.
If I’d told Jed about the letter, he’d want to know more. He’d ask me questions and want to talk about it. He’d be interested because it was affecting me.
Harrison was more interested in the dance contest.
But then, I suppose I’ve always known that the thing Harrison is actually most interested in is – Harrison. And I don’t mean that in a nasty way. Not really. It’s just he gets so wrapped up in the things that are happening in his life, he often forgets to be interested in mine.
I shuffle around in bed, trying to find a comfortable position but failing. There are too many jarring thoughts tumbling around inside my head for me to relax. I’m still deeply angry with Mum and now Harrison has also let me down. And on top of everything else, I keep thinking about Jed and wondering if he’s back at the cabin yet. What if he’s staying at Katerina’s tonight?
I punch the pillow and collapse back down with a sigh. Jed’s relationship with his ex is actually none of my business and I’m annoyed at myself for stewing over it. It really doesn’t matter to me who Jed is romantically involved with, because I’m going to marry Harrison.
Harrison is my rock; my safe harbour in a storm. Okay, he can be a bit self-obssessed at times, but we all have our little foibles. Harrison will always be there for me and, in an often harsh and uncertain world, that means everything.