He shrugged, wondering if this conversation was a gateway. Could it lead to more chats about other topics close to his heart? Was this how it started? He really hoped so, knowing that each day that passed without him being truthful was emotionally damaging and what he didn’t need was any more emotional damage.
‘Has it been hard for you, these last few months?’ his dad asked again whilst looking at his feet, as if avoiding eye contact might make it easier to hear the answer.
The last few years, since we arrived here... Cassian swallowed the response. If his dad had already been crying, this was not the time to go in hard.
‘I suppose, a bit. I think leaving Melbourne was difficult because it was a surprise, a shock. The way it was done, was ...’ Even now he found the words tricky. ‘Kind of like we were at the best party on the planet and it was just getting going when the taxi arrived early, and we had to miss it, leave while everyone else was still dancing. And they were so busy dancing they didn’t notice usleave so I didn’t get a chance to say goodbye to my cricket team, my schoolfriends, or even process it.’
‘It was one hell of a party, though, wasn’t it? That house! The views! Day trips to StKilda.’ Lawrence smiled broadly, missing the point entirely and yet tears glinted in his eyes. ‘I want ...’ He drew breath. ‘I want to be more open, son. I want not to let you down, but sometimes it’s like I’m in a sticky spider’s web and the more I wriggle the more stuck I become. Do you know what that feels like?’
‘Pretty shit, I should imagine.’ It didn’t feel good to hear his dad’s description, putting Cassian at a loss as to what to say next, how he could help. And yet there was a small part of him that was grateful for his father’s candour.
‘Yes, it’s pretty shit.’ Lawrence smiled wryly.
‘Time for a nightcap!’ His grandad shouted loudly from the table, ‘Make mine a large one, captain!’ before slumping down again.
‘Someone’s going to have a headache in the morning.’ Lawrence looked at his old man with obvious affection.
They both stared at Grandad Bernie. His dad reached out and squeezed Cassian’s shoulder. He could vaguely detect the tremor in his grip. He guessed it was the equivalent of a good old-fashioned hug from the man who didn’t really do physical displays of affection.
‘I’d better ...’ Cassian pointed towards the house, quite unable to explain how the chat had caught him off guard and how uncomfortable he felt at the shoulder squeeze. What made it so hard for his dad to hold him?
Glancing back, he saw his grandad place his head on the cradle of his arms and lie very still. Finally, it seemed, he slept.
Cassian stepped into the house where his nan was wrapping large lumps of cheese in clingfilm and lobbing it into the wide,shiny American fridge that already groaned with cling-film-wrapped grub. His mum was nowhere to be seen.
‘Do you need a hand with anything, Nan?’
She looked up at him and smiled. It took a second for her to focus, as if she didn’t realise he was still around. He was used to this. Without the collective banter of a Kelleway gathering, without Domino looking pretty by his side, and his dad shouting and jibing at Georgie, he was quiet and despite being ‘so very handsome’ he faded into the background a little, and in truth he was glad of it.
‘You’re such a good boy, Cass. Any girl would be lucky to have you. Thank you for offering, but I’m fine, nearly done. My bed is calling. And who knows how much sleep I’ll get if Cleo goes into labour? It’s been quite a day.’
‘Have you had a lovely anniversary?’
‘Oh, I have, love, the best. Did you see the bouquet your grandad sent?’
‘I did, yes.’
‘And that speech with everyone in the restaurant listening. Quite a show. I must be doing something right to get such treatment after all these years, eh?’
‘Yep.’
‘Is he still outside?’ she asked with the crinkle of fondness at her eyes.
‘I think he’s just fallen asleep at the table. Dad’s out there with him.’
‘Bless him. He’s a wonderful son and a wonderful father, you don’t know how lucky you are.’ Closing the dishwasher door, she pressed a button to set it whirring. ‘I’d better go and help my husband up the stairs.’
‘Yep.’ Cassian might only have been eighteen but knew enough to see that his grandparents idolised their son in the truest sense. It was both sweet and mystifying, as if they weren’t aware that hewas capable of any wrongdoing or even that he was an adult. He wondered for the first time whether his dad found this a little claustrophobic. ‘Shall I help you take grandad up?’
‘No, darling.’ She reached out and ran her hand over his forearm. ‘It isn’t the first time and it won’t be the last! Our bodies might be old, but our minds are still sixteen and I wouldn’t have it any other way! Are you staying here tonight, love?’
‘I might.’ He was glad of the option, and as usual would see where he and Jake ended the night and where it was most convenient to crash out.
‘Spare room is all made up for you.’
‘Thank you, Nan.’ He meant it, grateful for the bed, the love, the generous breakfast that he knew would be forthcoming if he stayed over.
‘No, thank you, Cass, not only for offering to help but for making today so special. You make me so happy. You all do. My beautiful family. What would my life be without you all?’ She walked slowly to the double French doors that led to the garden. ‘Your mum went home. Don’t know how your dad’s going to get back. Maybe he’ll stay too.’
