Broken Places (37 page)

‘Oh, Dad …’ She gripped his hand.

What he wouldn’t tell her was that, despite his joy in fatherhood, when he finally got home, he had sunk down on the bed and wept, because seeing Christine with the baby at her breast brought home, with painful force, his own lack of any mother, and of cradling, loving arms.

Erica dolloped ketchup onto her eggs. ‘So if parents feel so strongly about their babies, why ever would they ditch them and piss off?’

‘Well, as I said, it’s very rare, and it’s usually lone mothers. Often, they don’t mean to be cruel, so it isn’t fair to blame them indiscriminately. They may be really desperate – young and frightened and acting on an impulse. I’m sure that was true of
my
mother. Perhaps she had no one to turn to, or came from such a strict family they’d have killed her if they discovered she was pregnant.’

Erica stopped eating and looked him full in the face. ‘You
are
brave, Dad – and that’s a fact. I mean, the way you, like forgive her, instead of being resentful or kicking up an awful fuss, like I bet most people would. I know I’d be seriously furious if someone had dumped
me
in a park!’

The same sentiments as Mandy’s, when, on New Year’s Day, he had come clean about his origins. But then neither she nor Erica – nor anybody not a foundling – could understand that rage was pretty pointless; only added harm to harm. It was essential to love your birth-mother, if only for your own peace of mind; not hate her and resent her.

‘Don’t you see,’ he told his daughter, ‘I was lucky to be found and taken in. Sadly, some kids fail to make it. They’re shoved in a skip or a dustbin and simply left to die.’

‘Horrible!’ she shuddered.

‘And it was infinitely worse in the old days. Every year, thousands of babies were abandoned in the street or left outside the workhouse. And, even when they set up foundling hospitals, the demand was so great, most of the babies died. And those who did survive might land up in some dreadful
institution
, with incredibly strict rules. I read of one poor kid who’d broken the no-talking rule, and had to sit in the corner and hold his tongue – literally, between his finger and thumb, and stay like that for ages. When
I
was in care, things had improved so greatly, there’s just no comparison.’

‘It must have been ghastly, all the same.’

He stared out at the murky darkness pressing against the window-panes; still struck by the utter silence here; no brawling neighbours, screaming tyres, no sirens shrieking through the night. ‘It’s strange, you know, Carmella, but sometimes growing up the hard way can actually be an
advantage. There’s this famous book,
A Farewell to Arms
and, towards the end, there’s a sentence I’ve never forgotten: “The world breaks everyone and afterward many become strong at the broken places”.’

She forked in a mouthful of egg; sat chewing while she pondered. ‘I’m not sure what that means.’

He paused, aware of a need to shape his words. The rest of the passage was bleak in the extreme; foreshadowing the end of the book. Yet that particular sentence could stand on its own; had power and substance, in and for itself.

‘Dad…?’

‘Sorry. I was thinking.’ He reached for another Kleenex; held it to his lip. ‘I reckon it’s saying we all suffer, but if we try to make sense of the bad things and don’t become bitter or vindictive, we can move on in our lives and become stronger people because of what we’ve been through.’ Was he being an arch-hypocrite in taking such a line, when someone with his weight of fear could hardly be classed as ‘stronger’? And, anyway, sanitizing Hemingway was surely somewhat remiss. ‘Listen, it’s far too late for all this philosophical stuff, so why don’t—?’

‘No, wait – I’m interested. It applies to me, as well. I
was
bitter about the divorce, you see, and did resent you and Mum. But I suppose I could, like, change my view; accept what happened as just part of life and not the end of the world. Hell, half the kids at school have parents who’re divorced.’

‘Well, that would certainly be better than kicking against it for ever – better for
you
, I mean.’

‘D’you realize, Dad, even Barack Obama’s parents separated when he was two, and he hardly saw his father after that. And he had to keep moving to different homes and stuff. And he even took loads of drugs when he wasn’t much older than me. But look at him now! So I suppose he’s another example of that “broken places” thing. Maybe he only said, “Yes, we
can
!” because of all the bad stuff he’s had to overcome.’

‘You’re right. I hadn’t thought of that.’ All at once, he recalled the pastor’s words last Sunday, about everyone in the church being there for a specific purpose. Had some kind of grace descended on his daughter as a result of his own presence at the service? Hardly! There was no proof of any deity; let alone a God who would so conveniently intervene in his personal family problems. Yet he had to admit the change in Erica did seem pretty miraculous – the former hostile brat now mature, reflective and willing to engage with him.

‘It’s so hard, though, isn’t it?’ She gave a monstrous sigh; jabbed her fork against the plate. ‘Actually, the worst thing for me is the baby. I know I haven’t mentioned it before, but it’s been bugging me ever since I heard. It’s bad enough having to share Mum with Dwight, but now with, like, another kid as well.’

He felt a pang of guilt, remembering how casually he’d dismissed any fears she might have had about ‘his’ and Mandy’s baby. Perhaps the loss, however devastating, did have some advantage, in that it spared her the painful prospect of having to come to terms with
two
babies.

He pushed his plate away. His swollen lip made it difficult to eat and everything he swallowed seemed tainted with the taste of blood. Besides, he needed all his concentration to ensure that he was saying the right thing.

‘Try not to judge the kid before it’s here. You might even find you like it and enjoy having a brother or sister. But it will be a big upheaval, I admit – especially when the baby’s actually born. That’s always a fraught time and, of course, Mum will have her hands full, so you may feel a bit left out. Hey, listen – I’ve just had an idea. Why don’t I come over then and take you away on holiday?’

She stared at him in surprise. ‘But that would mean another flight and you’re terrified of flying.’

‘I’d survive,’ he told her, with more conviction than he felt.

‘Anyway, the baby’s due at the end of September and I have to be at school then.’

‘But they seem pretty reasonable about you taking time out, if it’s a
question
of a visit from a parent.’

‘Yes, I know, but why go through all that crap again, when you hate the very thought of planes?’

‘Because I’d like to be with you at what may be a difficult time – so long as you
want
to go away, that is, and don’t mind missing school.’

‘No one minds missing school, do they, unless they’re seriously weird?’

‘What about Mum, though? Do you think she might object?’

‘No way! She’s forever saying she’d like me to see more of you.’

Another surge of guilt. Whatever his terrors – and they were mounting to an uncomfortable degree – he must make this trip for his daughter’s sake. ‘In that case, why don’t you leave it to me to clear it with the school, and think of somewhere you’d really like to go.’

‘Are you absolutely sure, Dad?’

He nodded. ‘Just don’t choose somewhere too far away from here,
please, because I don’t want
two
long flights.’ It was also a matter of the expense, of course, but he wouldn’t mention that.

‘I know – San Diego! Barbie went there on a snorkelling holiday and said it was just brilliant. I’d adore to snorkel, Dad. You see these amazing coral reefs and fantastic fish close-up – rays and perch and starfish, even sea-lions and leopard-sharks.’

He swallowed.
Sharks
? ‘I think you’ve … forgotten something, darling.’ ‘What?’

‘I … can’t swim.’

‘Oh, come on, Dad, you can learn. And you don’t have to be a
good
swimmer. It’s not like scuba diving. You just float on shallow water. And, in any case, you can always wear a safety-vest or hire a body-board – or both, if you’re really worried.’

He tried to clear an obstruction from his throat. ‘Wouldn’t it be more the sort of thing you’d do with Dwight? He’s the one with the boat.’

‘No, it’s nothing like as good round here – not as warm, for one thing, and the water’s much more murky. In California, it’s crystal-clear and there are more exciting fish, as well. And, anyway, I want to do it with
you
, Dad, not with lousy Dwight.’

‘I just don’t think it’s going to work.’

‘Look, you asked me what I really want to do. And now you’re saying no. It’ll be great, Dad – honestly. We can take underwater photos and stuff and …’

The full horror of the trip was only now beginning to dawn on him – not just swimming, but being underwater; his face covered by a claustrophobic mask; having to hold his breath while the waves closed over his head; maybe getting tangled up in seaweed and never making it back up. Yet she’d just called him brave, so how could he refuse without reverting to being a loser and a coward? ‘We’ll … see. OK?’

‘No, it’s
not
OK,’ she said, slamming down her knife and fork. ‘“We’ll see” means “No” and I want you to say “Yes”. You’re being totally pathetic, Dad. You just told me all that stuff about broken places making you strong, so
be
strong, for a change.’

‘You don’t understand. I—’

‘No, I don’t! It makes no sense. I mean, all those years you told Mum and me you couldn’t fly, and now you
have
flown. So why can’t you swim, as well? You could take lessons in your local pool from now until September and you’ll be brilliant by then, I bet.’

Brilliant. She believed in him; actually wanted to go away with him, yet still he was fighting images of planes crashing onto the tarmac, or him choking to death in his snorkelling-mask and—

‘So?’ she demanded, getting up from the table and confronting him face to face.

‘OK, yes,’ he faltered.

‘Promise?’

‘Promise.’

‘Great! Let’s go online tomorrow and make plans.’

‘Actually, there’s something else we need to plan. In fact, I want you to promise
me
something.’

‘Don’t tell me. I can guess – I’m not to go out with boys till I’m
twenty-five
.’

‘I’ll settle for thirty-five! But no, I want you to save me from a Maundy Thursday service.’

‘What’s Maundy Thursday?’

‘The Thursday before Easter, which just happens to be your birthday. I didn’t tell you this before, but Peggy over the road more or less bullied me into attending church with her that evening.’

‘Oh, she does that with me, as well.’ Screwing up her face, Erica gave an imitation of Peggy’s breathy drawl. ‘“Erica, it’s time you went to Sunday School …” “Erica, have you thought of joining our lovely little Bible Study Group?” No thanks! Just ignore her, Dad.’

‘I can’t. Half the church are expecting me to show up. And, what’s worse, they’re planning to wash my feet.’

‘Wash your feet? Whatever for? Why can’t you wash them at home in the shower?’

‘It’s a sort of religious ritual – and one I’d prefer to miss. I’ll need a good excuse, though, so if you and I had this special birthday date, that would fit the bill just perfectly. So, what d’you say – will you rescue your poor Dad?’

‘OK. Anything to save you from the dreaded Peggy!’

‘Oh, and talking of your birthday, I brought some presents for you, but they lost my luggage, didn’t they, so Lord knows where they are! So can we please go out before the ninth and buy you a few replacements?’

‘Yes,
please
!’

‘There’s just one I packed in my flight-bag. Hang on a sec and I’ll fetch it.’

He raced upstairs; returned with the small jewellery-box, which he had carefully rewrapped, and placed it on the table.

‘But I shouldn’t open presents before my birthday.’

‘I want you to, OK? But we’d better be fairly quick about it. If Mum knew you were up this late, she’d go ballistic!’

She tore off the wrappings, opened the box and withdrew the
shimmering
pendant. ‘Oh,
Dad
…’

He felt a sudden doubt. She had so much stuff already – and pricey stuff at that – how could some bijou trifle make any sort of impression? ‘D’you like it?’ he asked, anxiously.

‘I adore it.’

‘I chose the heart specially,’ he said, ‘because it means “I love you”, and that you have first place in my own heart.’ Hell, this was sentimental stuff – downright naff, in fact. It might rouse his daughter’s scorn, but he had to take that risk.

‘It’s the best present I’ve ever had,’ she said, looping the pendant round her neck and trying to fasten the clasp.

‘Oh, come on, that’s way over the top!’

‘It
isn’t
, Dad. Here, help me do it up. I want to see what it looks like.’

Moving her hair aside, he struggled with the fiddly clasp, while she jiggled with impatience. ‘Stand still!’ he ordered, secretly pleased at her show of excitement. ‘That’s it – all done. Now turn round, so I can judge the effect.’

She faced him, half-self-conscious, half-expectant. ‘Well?’

‘Looks pretty good to me. In fact, damned near perfect, I’d say.’

‘
I
want to see!’ She darted out to the hall, to look in the large framed mirror on the wall.

He followed, watching as she stood fingering the heart, turning her head this way and that, with a smile of unqualified approval.

‘It’s great!’ she said. ‘And I love the way it sparkles in the light. Brooke will be dead jealous! I can’t wait to show her –
and
Barbie.’

‘Well, thank God I got it right,’ he laughed. ‘It was so hard to pick out something when I hadn’t seen you for so long and had no idea what sort of things you like.’

‘Dad, if I’d come with you to the shop, I’d have chosen exactly this.’

‘In that case, give your old Dad a hug.’

Noting how shyly she approached, he was careful to hold her neither too close nor too long, for fear he might embarrass her. Yet, for him, no hug could be long enough, since he required it to express a host of different emotions: his joy in having a child at all; his concern for her
happiness and safety; his regret about neglecting her, especially missing the whole business of watching her grow up; his grief at the brutal distance between London and Seattle, yet his pride in having bridged it – above all, his aching wish that the bond they had forged this evening should last until his death.