‘She’s been spending time recently telling me her story, including her childhood and relationship with you.’
‘That was a very long time ago. We’ve both been married since then.’
‘Married and divorced.’
He didn’t reply to that.
‘I’m calling you now because, well, she’s got cancer.’
I could sense him tensing down the phone.
‘That’s why she’s been going over her past. I have a business helping people sort through their possessions and finances, getting their lives in order… Anyway. There’s a lot of unanswered questions about what happened. With you. She doesn’t know I’m doing this, and I won’t tell her if you aren’t interested or if you think the answers wouldn’t be helpful. But I think she’d really like to see you again. Complete some of the missing pieces in the story.’
‘How bad is it?’
I swallowed back the lump in my throat. ‘Bad enough.’
‘Where is she living now?’
‘She’s been back at Riverbend for years.’
Another heavy silence.
‘Since her father died,’ I added.
‘Is this the best number to contact you on?’
‘Yes.’ I held my breath.
‘Is there time for me to think about it?’
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll let you know by the end of the week.’
* * *
A few days later, as I was completing an application form for a week-long intensive wedding floristry course, my phone beeped with a text message.
Can you and I meet up first? I also have questions.
That Thursday, 1 June, I met Aidan at a service station just off the M1 motorway, about an hour’s drive for both of us. I’d seen his picture on the activity centre website, but the sight of him standing at ease in the Costa queue jolted the breath from my lungs. The resemblance to his son was undeniable. He even wore the same type of jeans and jacket as Gideon.
We found a table in a quiet corner, and Aidan wasted no time on small talk.
‘How is she?’
I fumbled for a few seconds, having expected this question, but finding the answers I’d rehearsed had evaporated. ‘I’m back home now, so haven’t seen her since she started her first round of chemo.’
He nodded, taking that non-information in.
‘Can you tell me the prognosis?’
‘It’s a very rare form of lymphoma, so is tricky to predict.’
‘You don’t sound hopeful.’
I shrugged. ‘Neither did the doctor. But she’s getting excellent care from a private clinic.’
