‘Through here, love!’ my dad shouts, obviously hearing the kerfuffle. He emerges from the kitchen fully dressed in well-used but smart cord trousers, a plaid shirt, and fully shined brogues. He always was a bit of a snazzy dresser, my father.
He pauses when he sees Guy at my side, which is totally understandable. I wonder what random thought processes are going through his mind right now – I’ve been home for one night and have somehow already managed to do something totally weird and unpredictable.
‘I brought pastries,’ I say, passing him the box. ‘And, uh, a friend. This is Guy. He’s severely coffee-deprived.’
My dad, to his credit, recovers immediately, closing the distance between us and offering his hand to shake.
‘Pleasure to meet you, Guy – I’m George, Suzie’s dad. I’ve got some bacon on. Can I tempt you with a sandwich while you’re here, the perfect accompaniment to the coffee?’
Guy’s face is completely transformed by this offer, a big, genuine grin making him look like a different human being. Huh. All that deep-and-meaningful mystery man routine was clearly a ruse, because it’s disappeared as quickly as you can say ‘free cooked breakfast’.
‘Yes please, sir. That would be very much appreciated.’
Within minutes, the three of us are settled at the dining table with a small feast, Bear lurking hopefully beneath, moving from one person’s feet to another just in case one of us gets clumsy.
‘What brings you here, Guy?’ my father asks. ‘Or have you come to, uh, visit Suzie?’
I can see that he’s confused and I totally get it. He has every right to ask a few questions, to be curious, to wonder about the man I just brought into his home. It’s totally normal, and acceptable, and that tiny part of me that is already bristling at the scrutiny can just shut the hell up and behave itself. I am not a kid any more, and I need to act like a grown-up. Normally, I do – but as ever with returning to your childhood home, it seems to somehow tap into long-buried feelings.
‘Uh, no, sir. We actually only met yesterday. I’m here to visit my own daughter.’
It sounds so simple when he puts it like that. His tone is calm and respectful, no hint of the complexity and pain that I know is whirling just beneath the surface. I’ve met a few military types over the years, and they’re often very good at hiding what’s really going on with them. Even from themselves, I suspect.
‘Oh, I see! And your daughter lives here, does she?’ my father asks, a frown on his face. I have zero doubt that he knows the names and histories of every single person who lives in Starshine Cove, and is currently trying to figure out the connections. There are holiday cottages here, or at least there used to be, and some people only live here part time, but my dad is still likely to be the closest thing to a census that the village has.
‘Yes. She’s called Miranda.’
My dad’s eyes go wide, and I see him making the effort to control his reaction. I hope against hope that he manages, that he doesn’t judge, that the famous Starshine protective streak doesn’t result in him deciding that Guy is a threat to someone he cares about.
‘Oh, Miranda! She’s been here a while now, lovely girl. And little Evan of course – he’s a joy! Has us all on our toes now he’s so mobile. Quite the little Tonka Trunk!’
‘Really?’ Guy says, a flicker of a smile on his face. ‘I… I haven’t met him yet. It’s been a while, since I saw Miranda. She wants to take it slowly.’
My father nods, and gives us all a few seconds of respite by getting the pastries out of the box and putting them out on a serving plate.
‘Well, you’re here now, and that’s what matters,’ he says, and I wonder which of us he’s talking to. I don’t suppose it makes much difference – the same could apply to us both. ‘I’m sure you’ll have plenty to catch up on. Connie’s son James is close to her. We’re all wondering if they’ll find a place together.’
I see Guy absorbing the new information, like he’s a starving man and someone just offered him some scraps. ‘Connie is my, uh, sister-in-law?’ I say. Does that still apply if the brother is long gone? ‘She runs the café.’
Guy nods, and I see him turning things over in his mind, piecing them together. How we all relate to each other, and now his own daughter. Little did we know when our paths first crossed that they’d end up running parallel.
‘Where are you staying, Guy?’ my dad asks, pouring him another coffee from the pot.
‘I spent last night in Suzie’s car,’ he replies, grimacing.
‘It’s a VW Bug,’ I add, explaining the grimace. ‘Called Bettina.’
My father’s bright blue eyes sparkle as he grins at me. ‘Your mum’s was a camper van called Barbara.’
‘I know, I remember the stories. It was probably a bit easier to sleep in than mine.’
‘Definitely for a tall chap like Guy here. We have a spare room, you know, Guy – you’d be more than welcome.’
I keep my gaze averted as he considers this. I already know what the answer will be.
‘Thank you, sir, that’s very generous of you – but I have my tent, the weather’s good, and I’m more than happy to camp.’
‘Ah. Another independent type, I see. Well, Archie has some land he uses for his gardening projects, and we all have gardens too. Assuming you don’t need to be out in the wilderness?’
