Page 85 of Summer in Greece

‘So, it was your father that forced you to give me up.’

Shelly nodded. ‘It took many years before I stopped hating him for it. In the end, I realised he was right. I gave you up because I loved you so much. Not because I didn’t want you.’ She realised tears were trickling down her cheeks and dabbed them away with a tissue. ‘Sorry,’ she said with a smile. ‘I did warn you. Please tell me – you have had a good life, haven’t you?’

‘Yes, very much so, but I grew up knowing I was adopted, and I often wondered about you, of course. My parents said you were very young, but they didn’t know anything about my father. Can you tell me about him?’

Shelly sipped her drink, then blew through pursed lips. ‘I’ll tell you as much as I can about David each time we meet, but you must be patient, you’re not going to hear the whole story straight off.’ He nodded again. ‘There will be times when I won’t be able to talk about him at all, but rest assured, you will come to know and understand him.’

‘Can I ask you some questions?’

She thought for a moment. ‘Yes, of course. I realise you need answers. I was in that position myself once. The pain’s intense, isn’t it? And the bitterness, I was bitter for years.’ He nodded. The old distress rose and she battled against it. ‘It’s so unfair,’ she whispered. ‘And it hurts so bad. But that pain made me determined to be my own boss and rule my own life. Nobody was ever going to tell me what to do again. Perhaps I overreacted.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Well, the world and his wife said I couldn’t look after you by myself, with no family support. So I spent the next nineteen years proving them wrong. I’m desperate for you to understand that I didn’t simply cast you aside for the sake of convenience.

‘The loss of my mother, then David, and then you, and in a way my dad too, was too much pain for any young girl to take. Soon, severe depression set in. Although I was little more than a child when you were taken from me, I had one consolation – you were in the safe care of a loving family.

‘They said I had post-natal depression, but they never really understood. Slowly but surely, I came back from that dark pit and made a success of my life. I’m proud of that. However, losing you and your father has never quite left me. Twenty years later, and I’m still dealing with it and I know, for the moment, this isn’t making any sense to you, but I promise it will.’

‘I’m just realising how brave you’ve been to tackle this. Do you mind if I call you Mum? It feels a little odd, and of course I do have another Mum, in Australia, but nothing else would feel right. Better to get used to it from the start, I think.’

‘I’d like that very much. So long as you don’t mind my tears now and again.’

‘Look, at any time, please, you can just tell me to shut up and go away, so long as you let me know when you’re feeling stronger and I can come back. And if you ever want to talk, I’ll always be here for you.’

‘I think that’s the kindest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I don’t want you to think I’m a wimp: I did get myself through college and university, and set up my own successful veterinary practice. I’ve got balls, DJ.’

He laughed. ‘I believe it.’

‘So, ask me a question.’

‘Can you tell me something about my father. Just something?’

Shelly took a shuddering breath and, once again, ballooned her cheeks as she let it out. The action calmed her and she found herself dreamily thinking of the young man she had loved so passionately. ‘David was the most amazing guy. A few years older than me, which was exactly what I needed. However, that was what my father objected to. I was sixteen and he was twenty-four. We were so compatible, so happy together.’ She told him how they met outside the jeweller’s shop. How David had been balm to her wounds. ‘He was the sweetest, kindest man on earth, and incredibly handsome, like you. He told me later that he fell in love with me from that first moment in the high street. It was a moment in my life when I most needed love.’

‘It sounds as though he was a romantic.’

She closed her eyes and nodded. ‘David was a softy with a huge heart, and so grateful to me for helping him with his dog.’

‘His dog?’

‘A golden retriever, Pat . . . Pat the dog, get it?’ They smiled at each other. ‘That was so typical, your father had a great sense of humour. He’d had Pat for thirteen years, but she became poorly and he had to have her put to sleep.’ She remembered how upset he was. ‘It broke his heart. We took her to see all her pups before that final trip to the vet’s. Years later, I wondered if it was all a plan of David’s to get me to put my own grief aside. “Will you really help me take Pat to say goodbye to her puppies?” he asked as if it was a mammoth feat, when really it was just a kindness.’ She took a sip of her shandy, remembering that day of sadness and incredible closeness.

‘We spent the following Saturday and Sunday traipsing from house to home, watching Pat nuzzle and sniff her offspring. When the day was over, I went back to David’s ground-floor flat and we talked until ten o’clock. I knew I’d be in terrible trouble with my father for being out so late, especially as he had no idea where I was. David sensed this. He said he’d go home with me and talk to my dad, tell him how marvellous I’d been. Terribly brave of him. I mean, my dad could have been a gorilla waving a baseball bat for all he knew.’

When DJ laughed, Shelly’s heart melted. He sounded just like his father. ‘Did he go home with you?’

‘No, I persuaded him I’d be better on my own. David saw me into the bus and asked if I’d meet him at the vet’s the next weekend.’ Shelly smiled, then glanced at her watch. ‘I think we ought to head home,’ she said. ‘I’ve been cooking all morning in your honour; shame if it spoiled.’

*

‘About my father, your grandfather,’ Shelly said in the car as they headed down Lighthouse Lane. ‘Be gentle with him, will you? He’s very nervous about meeting you, and he can get a little . . . grumpy.’

‘He made you give me up. He didn’t want me around. Do you know how that feels?’

Shelly sighed. ‘He did, and that must make you feel unwanted, I understand that.’ She pulled over and turned in her seat. ‘But I want you to understand, he was having a breakdown, going through real mental torture with nobody to support him. He wanted to do the best thing for both of us – for you and me. I know he only ever meant well.’

DJ nodded. ‘Perhaps I should have brought him a bottle of whisky, or something. Does he smoke?’