She yawns. ‘I better go. I’ve got food to prep for a client’s dinner party tomorrow.’
‘Okay. Thanks for today.’
‘That’s all right. You can return the favour when I move into my new place.’ She grins.
‘We’ll be there,’ Dad says. ‘As long as you unpack the kettle first.’
‘Of course. And I’ll even throw in some homemade cookies.’ She hugs us both and we spend the next ten minutes prying her daughters away from their cousins.
Once she’s gone, a wave of tiredness washes over me. The children disappear off to their rooms to amuse themselves, and I start preparing an omelette for our tea. Dad’s still sitting at the kitchen table. Now that the boxes are unpacked, he’s already made a start on the firelighters, rolling each sheet into a tube, flattening it, then bending it diagonally in the centre, folding one side and then the other until he’s made a little concertina-like creation. I remember him showing us how to make them when we were kids. While Mum was still alive.
‘You okay, love?’ It’s a question he now asks me at least twenty times a day.
‘Yeah, I’m fine. Feels good to have got that lot unpacked and put away.’
‘I’ll make you up a box of these lighters, and then you can get the kids to add to it. It’s going to be a cold winter and you’ll be glad of these to get the fire going quickly on a chilly evening. I’ll order you some logs from the fella I use.’
‘Great. Thanks.’
After I was discharged from hospital, Dad took the kids and I back to his place. I have to hand it to him, he was incredible. All those parenting skills he’d been lacking after Mum died came out in full force as he cared for his grandchildren. While I attempted not to fall to pieces, he cooked for them, played with them, chatted with them and comforted them, all in his own understated way. I tried not to feel bitter that he’d never done any of this for me and Dina while we were growing up. He was doing it now, and that’s what mattered.
After several months of living with him, I could tell that Dad was finding the noise and disruption wearing. Although he never complained, bless him.
I take the pan off the heat and slide it under the grill to melt the cheese on top of the omelette.
‘I am sorry, you know,’ Dad says, dropping another firelighter into the box.
‘Sorry?’ I ask. ‘For what?’ I turn the grill down and sit opposite him.
He sighs and scratches the stubble on his chin. ‘I wasn’t a very good dad to you and Dee, was I?’
It’s true. He wasn’t the greatest father. But I’m surprised to discover that I don’t feel resentful any more.
‘I don’t want to make excuses,’ he continues. ‘But after I lost your mum…’ He frowns and stares down at his hands, picks at his fingernails.
‘It’s okay, Dad, you don’t have to explain.’
‘But… I do. I want to.’
‘You were grieving for Mum, I get it.’
He nods. His eyes bright with unshed tears. ‘Even so… I shouldn’t have neglected you both. Maybe if I’d spent more time with Dina instead of leaving you to do it all… you were only a kid yourself. She was such a little ’un when your mum died. And now, now it’s all too late…’
‘Dad, stop. You did the best you could at the time. Look at me, after all this stuff with Dina and Toby. I was a mess – still am – but at least I had your help. After Mum died, you didn’t have anyone to help with me and Dina. You were on your own. I think you did a pretty good job, considering.’
Dad takes in everything I’m saying, then he clears his throat. ‘Thanks, love. You’re a good girl, you are.’ He pats my hand and gets to his feet. ‘Okay, well, that omelette smells like it’s almost done. Want me to call the kids down?’
‘Yes please.’
As he walks towards the door, I feel a settling of something inside me. Despite the chaos and uncertainty of everything else, I realise a large piece of my life has been resolved.
My father hesitates at the door, squaring his shoulders. ‘I love you, Zo,’ he says, without turning around.
‘Love you too, Dad.’
Epilogue
I close my eyes and try to get comfortable beneath the thin sheet and blanket, turning this way and that before finally giving up like I always do. Instead, I lie on my back with my eyes open, staring into the semi-darkness, accepting that sleep isn’t coming any closer. That it never arrives until it’s almost time to wake up again. In this place, the nights are endless and the days roll into one another. Time works differently here.
