“I’ll have a lemon ice lolly.”
The vendor nods and head to the back of the van to retrieve our selections.
“Did you just see that guy?” My head nods over Kelly’s shoulder, forcing her to turn.
“What guy?”
I point out the guy who was in front of us, now walking along with his jumper tied over his shoulders and holding hands with a woman wearing a straw hat and blue summer dress.
“That one over there. I had to do a double take. He looks exactly like Dad did when we were kids.”
Kelly raises a hand over her eyes to protect them from the glare of the sun as she squints to get a better look.
“I can’t see,” Kelly says, turning back and reaching for the ice lolly as the man hands over our order. I pull out a ten-pound note and tell him to keep the change.
“Do you miss him?” Kelly asks as we begin to walk away.
“I just left him two hours ago,” I say, using the plastic spoon to scoop up the ice cream.
“Not Alexander. Dad.” Kelly shakes her head as she tears off the wrapper and takes a lick of her lolly.
“Oh.”
I’d be lying to her if I said I didn’t miss him. In fact, I’d been dreading coming back to London. Less because I’d have to see Mum, and more so because London reminds me so much of Dad.
Everywhere I turn, I see reminders of him. The pubs that he’d drag Kelly and me into as kids so he could have a pint with hisfriends, while throwing us money to get squash and play pool. The rides on the tubes and buses that he’d turn into adventures. But the pain of that last interaction with him wiped those memories away.
And I’ve been running from them ever since.
I couldn’t even bear to be at his funeral. Everyone was coming up to me, offering their condolences, telling me he was a good man. A good man, who was just about to disown his son, if those stairs and his drinking problem hadn’t taken him out.
“Sometimes,” I say, letting out a sigh. “Do you?”
“I do.” Kelly lowers her head. “If he was here right now, he’d be able to calm Mum down. Tell her to wind her neck in and just let me get on with things.” Her voice is tinged with bittersweetness.
“Maybe we can slide an Ambien or two in her drink later to shut her up,” I say, laughing.
But Kelly is too lost in her thoughts.
The ice lolly drips down her fingers and onto the ground.
“Do you mind that it’s me walking you down the aisle and not Dad?” I ask, as we exit the park and follow the road back to the hotel. Kelly chucks the ice lolly into a bin.
I look down at my screwball and pull out the chewing gum at the bottom, throwing it in my mouth and the cup in the bin.
“You know I don’t buy into that bullshit. A man giving me away to another man, as if I’m someone else’s property to bestow upon another human. But I do wish he could be here to see me tomorrow.”
I get it.
I do.
I wrap my hand around her shoulder as the back entrance of the hotel comes back into sight. There’s a small gaggle of girls sitting on the pavement, talking among each other. Their signs are strewn across the floor.
No One Compares To You, Alexander.
You can be My Anchor.
They all look up in unison as we step over their cardboard signs.
