‘What?’ My dad’s angry voice bellows along the stone hall. ‘Go away.’
I lift the letter box. ‘Dad, it’s me. Kate. Please open the door.’ I expected to smell alcohol and bodily fluids but I’m surprised to smell lemon.
As soon as I drop the letter box, he’s there. ‘Kate, come in. I wasn’t expecting you.’ He has a towel wrapped around his neck, like he’s just been having a wash. ‘Go through.’
I step further in, not knowing what I’ll find but I’m surprised. The kitchen shines as a ray of sunlight glints off the draining board. Taking a seat at the kitchen table, I nervously shuffle. It feels strange to be back and I can’t believe I grew up here.
The dink in the wall is still there. My dad can paint over things like that but he can’t paint over the terrifying memories of him throwing things around the kitchen, destroying not only the walls but my mother’s happiness.
‘Do you want a drink? I’ve got tea and coffee.’
I shake my head. ‘No.’
He puts the towel in the washing machine and sits next to me. ‘I think I know why you’re here.’
Nodding, I unzip my hoodie. ‘I saw the article. Why, Dad?’
‘I needed to tell my side.’
‘And all you did was open it all up again.’
‘I know, I know.’ He shakes his balding head.
‘So why did you do it? You should have told them to call me and ask me about Jess.’
‘I needed the chance to put my side over. I’m sick of the hate mail I’ve received over the years. I’ve lost friends and even jobs. I know I was a bad person, but that day—’
‘I was there.’
‘But you were so little.’
‘I still remember bits.’
‘That argument I’d had with your mother, it got to me. I know I drank too much on that boat and I know I was in a state. She shouldn’t have left me with Jess.’
‘So you thought it was okay to blame her now that she isn’t here.’
‘No.’
I flinch as his hand hits the table.
‘Sorry, no. I didn’t want to live with it any longer and the reporters wouldn’t stop calling. It got too much, Katie.’
The moment he calls me Katie, I’m transported back to early childhood. When things were going well, I was always his little Katie and he’d play dolls and ball games with me. How has he gone from the dad I occasionally remember to a bitter and angry alcoholic? ‘Are you—?’
‘No. I haven’t had a drink in a year now. Not a sip. There’s none in the house, you can check every cupboard if you want. This is the new me.’
I glance at the cupboard under the sink, the place he used to keep his vodka and cider.
‘Have a look.’
Walking over to the cupboard, I open it. Bleach, disinfectant and a few packets of over-the-counter tablets.
‘I wanted to call you so many times, Katie, but I knew I needed to prove myself. I’m clean of that poison. I know that I hurt your mum and you and I regret every minute of it. This new me is an honest and open me. I am to blame for everything and I know I can’t make amends, but I want to try.’
Staring right into his creased blue eyes, I wonder if he is truly capable of changing. He looks away and walks over to the patio doors, staring out at the overgrown garden. ‘How are the little ones? I still have the photos that you texted me.’
‘They’re great. Growing up so fast.’
