‘I could do with a hand with the animals,’ said Harry. ‘Perhaps you could stay for an hour or two?’
I looked down at Bertie. He was pulling his cute face, the one he always put on when he needed to get his own way. I laughed and hugged him. ‘I can’t see what harm a couple of hours can do. If you’re sure?’ I asked Harry.
‘Of course. I’ve missed my little helper. Liv, if Bertie’s going to be giving me a hand, I wonder if you could see to something down by the lake?’
‘Of course. What is it?’
Harry glanced at Bertie, then mouthed silently, ‘Seb.’
I nodded. The thought of seeing Seb made me nervous, but he deserved an explanation more than anyone. As much as I wanted to drink in every part of Lowen Farm, I was reluctant to stay too long, so decided to drive to the lake rather than walk.
Seb wasn’t at home, so I made my way past the cabins toward the water. I’d forgotten how beautiful the lake was, or perhaps it was that in the full strength of summer, it had reached its peak. The surrounding trees had exploded into green, wildflowers clung determinedly into rock crevices and the water sparkled like the contents of an aristocrat’s jewellery box.
Seb had his back to me, sitting in the rowing boat not too far out from the jetty. I removed my sandals and walked along the worn, warm boards, sitting down at the far end and letting my feet dangle in the cold green water. For a moment I just watched him, the way his neck craned at a twitch in his fishing line, the way his hand brushed hair from his eyes.
‘Seb?’
Seb turned at my call. His beard had grown longer, dark crescents sat below his eyes. His hair looked greasy and matted and his clothes dirtier than usual. I smiled and gave a small wave, but Seb turned his head away from me. ‘Don’t bother jumping in this time,’ he called. ‘I don’t want to speak to you.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said. ‘I only want you to listen.’
Seb began packing up his fishing gear and I knew I only had a few minutes before he picked up his oars and rowed as far away from me as he could get.
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘I’ll go. I just need you to know that I never wanted to leave, and I certainly never wanted to get back together with Rob. Seb, my mother-in-law threatened to take Bertie from me if I didn’t go back to my marriage. What was I meant to do? I don’t have the power or wealth to fight her, and I couldn’t risk losing my son. I’m working hard to get out of my mess, but it’s going to take me years. I’m not asking you to wait for me, but I felt I owed you the truth.’
Seb stopped packing up his fishing gear, but didn’t turn to look at me. Instead, he sat still and straight-backed, his hands on his knees, his face turned up to the sky. I pulled myself up from the jetty and walked away.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Since Bertie’s escape and subsequent return, we had made it through another month unscathed. After finding out the truth, Bertie had been attempting to put a brave face on things, but he was just as miserable at school, and we all breathed a sigh of relief each time the weekend rolled around.
On this particular Saturday, I had a visit to Dad to look forward to. Whilst Bertie loved visiting his gramps, the offer of a trip to the swimming pool with Jake, Emmy and Jasper was more tempting.
When Cass arrived to pick me up, she was quiet, which I assumed was down to the long hours she’d been putting in at work. We pulled up outside the nursing home, but as I began walking towards the entrance, Cass stopped me. ‘Dad’s not in there,’ she said. ‘He’s waiting for us in the garden.’
‘Oh, OK.’
I followed Cass along a path lined with well-tended flower beds. Early summer was in full swing and bursts of colour spilled over onto the wide gravel path. The warm sun made me sleepy,my early starts leaving me with a tiredness I never seemed able to shift.
Dad was sitting in his wheelchair beside a bench which overlooked a fountain. The nursing home had once been a stately home, and as we approached, I imagined women in beautiful silk dresses gliding along the path, parasols in hand.
‘Hola, Papa.’ I reached down and kissed Dad on both cheeks. His face lit up with his best impression of a smile and he waved his good hand to show he wanted us to sit down. In Dad’s lap lay a piece of paper, the gentle summer breeze teasing one of its edges.
As Cass greeted Dad, she picked the piece of paper up.
‘What is that?’
‘Dad asked one of the nurses to help him get some of his thoughts down on paper.’
‘Thoughts about what?’
‘You.’
‘Me?’ I looked at Dad. He reached out his good arm and took my hand. His brown eyes filled with tears and his furrowed brow spoke of his frustration at not being able to express himself without the aid of others.
‘Dad’s asked me to read this out to you.’
‘OK.’
