Carrie threw him a grateful look. “That would be amazing,” she said.
“Poppy!” Michael called, and the little girl waved. She said something to Monty and the pair ran back.
“Your mum needs to go for a long drive to visit someone. Would you like to spend the rest of the day with me and Monty and the cats?”
“Sure!” she said, passing Monty’s lead to him.
“I’ve got a couple of book repairs to do, but you can help me with those, and then we can go out for a drive to some of the bays with a picnic.”
“That sounds awesome!” said Poppy, excitedly. “Can Monty come?”
“Of course,” said Michael. “Monty loves picnics.” He looked to Carrie for confirmation that she was happy with the plans.
She nodded and mouthed, “Thank you.”
Chapter 18
Twenty minutes later, Carrie was in her car driving towards Somerset and doing her best to control her nerves. She reminded herself that it was unlikely that she’d actually get to see her father today. The most she should sensibly hope for was a lead to a more recent address... He somehow didn’t seem the type to stay living in the same place for decades.
The car was warming up with the sun and she kept the windows open until she was forced to close them because of traffic fumes as the holiday traffic got heavier.
She considered stopping for some food and to cool down as it approached one o’clock, but there was only about half an hour to go and her stomach was too churned up to eat anyway, so she decided to plough through.
She came off the motorway and the roads became narrower and more windy, with tall hedgerows on either side. Carrie drove slowly — she was still not a fan of small country roads — and tensed as she squeezed past vehicles coming in the opposite direction, doing her best to steer clear of ditches.
Finally she approached the little village she was heading for and Google Maps directed her to a small housing estate on the outskirts.
The identikit little cream houses were neatly laid out in pairs with small front gardens, all of which were impeccably kept.
Carrie parked outside what should be the correct house and checked the address in her mum’s message for about the hundredth time to ensure she was in the right place. Yep. This was it.
With a steadying breath, and before she could think better of it, she got out of her car, walked up the path to the smart black front door and knocked.
She waited, shifting her weight from foot to foot, until she finally heard a key turning in the lock. The door opened to reveal a tall, slim woman with a brown bob who looked to be in her late forties. Certainly a good deal younger than her father.
“Hi,” said Carrie. “I’m really sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering if Phil still lives here? Phil Browning? I was given this address...”
“Phil hasn’t lived here for a long time,” said the woman. She inched back a little. “Why are you looking for him?”
“I’m his daughter,” Carrie replied.
“Phil doesn’t have a daughter,” said the woman, suspiciously. “Well, not an adult one, at least.”
“He does,” Carrie said. She pulled out her phone, bringing up a photo she’d taken of a picture she’d found at the bottom of one of her mum’s desk drawers a few years before. It was of her mum and her with her dad. It was the only one of the three of them she’d ever seen and she’d immediately taken her phone out and taken a photo of it before replacing it. “See,” she said.
The woman’s face paled. With a little shake of her head, she said, “I think you’d better come in.”
Carrie stepped into the house and the woman shut the door behind her. “I’m Linda,” she said.
“Carrie,” Carrie replied. “I really am sorry about dropping in on you like this, especially as you had no idea I even existed... This is just the only address my mum has for Phil.”
“Please,” said Linda with a wave of her hand. “It’s hardly your fault your father is the man he is. I wouldn’t advise you to continue searching for him to be honest — he’s not worth your time. Let me put the kettle on and I’ll tell you what I know about that thieving two-timer.”
* * *
Two hours later, Carrie got back in her car. She took a moment to compose herself and check she was all right. It seemed she was.
Linda had been wonderful. She’d explained to Carrie how she’d come to meet her father in a pub one night, and how he’d never mentioned he had a child. She did discover that he’d recently left another woman though; a woman who’d managed to track him down and turned up on the doorstep about four months after Linda and Phil had got together, by which point he’d moved in. Then, the following year, another woman turned up. He’d been having an affair with her for some time. Linda forgave him, “like a fool”, and he walked out a couple of years later, taking a load of money from a joint account she’d foolishly agreed to set up and pay into every month for a holiday fund. She hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
