‘See that, Emma?’ He pointed at the French windows, where on the other side a pair of rabbits were sitting on the lawn. ‘Like your Candyfloss.’
I leant down to kiss his cheek, wincing at the recollection. ‘What a terrible name for a pet.’
‘Well, he was a pretty terrible pet, to be fair. Not that you can blame him!’ Dad let out a hoarse wheeze of mirth.
‘I can’t believe you gave in and let me catch a wild rabbit.’ I took a seat on the arm of his chair, leaning gently on his shoulder. I could fit my whole head on there with room to spare.
‘After you’d spent nearly the whole summer trying to tame him, lying on the grass and feeding him dandelions before you lured him into that cardboard-box trap, I could hardly make all that work a waste of time, now, could I?’
‘I’m not sure it was even the same rabbit.’
Dad full-on laughed at that, bouncing my head as his shoulders shook. ‘You swore blue that you’d recognise him anywhere!’
‘I’d have sworn every colour in the rainbow if it’d got me a pet.’
‘Well, it certainly taught you some patience.’
‘And that patience isn’t always worth the wait. Not when it involves wild animals, anyway.’
We sat together and watched the rabbits wuffling through the wet grass. The only sound his steady breath, as I soaked up the unconditional love that remained strong and sure.
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
‘Grand. Your mamma won’t be back for an hour.’ Which really meant:you can stay for an hour without risk of the grand inquisition.
I brought the tea, strong and black how Dad liked it, and a plate of buttery raisin toast.
‘I found a loaf in the dishwasher. I’m presuming it doesn’t need a wash.’
Dad shook his head. ‘Ah, yes. I wondered where that had got to. In the end I gave up and had a couple of oatcakes.’
‘You hate oatcakes.’ I sat on the nearest sofa, and handed him his mug.
‘Well, I hate being hungry more and your mother had already left. It seemed the easiest option at the time.’ He took a drink of tea and ate half a slice of toast in one mouthful. ‘Now, do you want to tell me what has you floating about here in the middle of the day instead of building that business empire of yours? Mind, if your mother sent you over to babysit, it might be best not to tell me.’
He squinted at me, and before I could come up with an answer, my eyes were swimming with tears. Saying nothing, Dad handed me his neatly folded handkerchief.
‘I don’t know. I’ve been feeling a bit… lost. And at the same time, kind of stuck. I feel like I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t know where to go.’
‘Are you sure about that?’ He gazed at me, steadily. ‘Or do you know where you should go, but you’re scared to go there?’
‘The only place I can think of going is beyond crazy, Dad,’ I whispered. ‘Everyone,everyonewould tell me not to go there.’
‘Then the fact that you want to go anyway should say something.’ He put down his cup so he could take hold of my hand, his rough work-worn fingers stroking my palm. ‘If I was having this conversation with Annie, or Orla, I might give different advice. But the truth is, those madcap girls wouldn’t ask, they’d just jump straight into it. You’re a sensible woman, Emma. Too sensible sometimes. And more than that – you’re wise. Trust that. Trust yourself.’
‘I don’t know if I can any more. My head’s a mess from all the second-guessing.’
‘Well, you can trust God. Ask him to show you the way.’
‘Will you pray for me, Daddy?’
‘Every day, my love. Every single day.’
After another precious silence, watching the fire crackle as we ate and drank, my dad spoke again.
‘You know I married your mother on my twenty-first birthday?’
I nodded, leaning back into the cushions of the ancient sofa.
