‘Hello, Sylvia.’
The voice on the other end seemed to have hardened, her tone sharp, her words precise. ‘I want you to leave us alone, Geordie. Stay away from my family, do you hear me?’
Geordie had only one aim and that was to find out where she was because no way was he abandoning his daughter. ‘Sylvia, we need to talk. Please tell me where you are and I can meet you, discuss things like adults and make arrangements for Carmen. That’s all I ask.’
‘No. I don’t want to see you ever again so I’m telling you one more time, leave us alone.’
Despite her warning he had to persevere. After almost freezing to death he wasn’t giving up his daughter without a fight. ‘But what about money? I need to look after Carmen and the house. I can send it there.’
‘Geordie NO! We won’t be going back there ever, not after the shame you brought to our door. Don’t you see it’s only a matter of time before people start gossiping about us? Walls have ears and rumours spread and I won’t be laughed at, Geordie, and neither will Carmen. Kids are cruel and I won’t have the others saying stuff. It’s over. We’ve gone and it’s all your fault. I will never, ever forgive you for what you’ve done, not as long as I live.’
Geordie began to panic. He could hear the venom in Sylvia’s voice yet at the same time he heard a sob, felt her heartbreak and hated himself for what he’d done, for giving in to lust, for being weak. ‘But it’s your home, Carmen’s home. You can’t take her away.’
‘Well I have. It’s done.’
The walls felt like they were closing in, the hallucinogenic swirls of orange and brown making him nauseous while the ceiling threatened to flatten him, like his lungs that were having trouble catching a breath. Steadying himself, he forced out a plea while his heart drummed in his ears. ‘Sylvia, please, I’m begging you. Give me a chance to explain… what will you tell Carmen? Please don’t turn her against me, please Sylvia, I beg you, don’t do that.’
There was a long silence down the line. All Geordie could do was wait and pray, not throw up or cry, and ignore Mavis’s steely glare that was boring holes into the side of his head.
Then Sylvia spoke. ‘If you leave us alone, don’t try to find us, I promise I won’t turn her against you. But if you ever bother me again, I swear to God I will do everything in my power to make her hate you. Do you understand me, Geordie? Let us go, let me go. No child deserves a disgusting dad like you. You made your bed, so lie in it.’
For a second his lips wouldn’t move and the moment would always be frozen in time.
Foot-tapping Mavis, orange and brown, sick swirling inside his stomach, trembling hands grasping the receiver of the pea-green GPO phone, the tinkle of a bell, the chirp of a caged bird in the corner of a room, the end of life as he knew it closing in.
Geordie, barely able to speak, whispered his answer. ‘Tell Carmen I love her and I’ll never forget her. She’ll always be my pearl.’
‘Goodbye, Geordie.’ There was a click on the line. And then she was gone.
Geordie made his solitary way back to Tilbury but couldn’t settle. His restless soul was constantly hounded by a guilty conscience so he’d set off for pastures new, hoping to make a fresh start, away from gossips and pointing fingers, whispers and insinuations.
Every year at Christmas, no matter where he was, Geordie would write his daughter a letter and send it to himself. That way the postmark would show the place and date and if she did track him down, he would give her the box of letters to prove he had never forgotten her.
He marked the years in envelopes and when there were twelve in the pile he prayed that her eighteenth birthday might be a turning point and she’d seek him out. Three envelopes later he clung on to the possibility that turning twenty-one might mean she was a bit more independent, confident enough to try and find him. But as the envelopes piled up, the corner of his heart that was reserved for hope began to shrink. Logic took up residence in the space where daydreams once dwelt and Geordie realised that it might be hard for Carmen to find him, especially when he was at sea. Regardless, he kept up his tradition and waited patiently. The thing was, time was running out or was it catching up with him? But either way he’d made a decision. The past twelve months of living through a pandemic had taught him many things, least of all that you can’t afford to linger, have regrets. So he would get this Christmas and New Year over with and then, he would try to find his daughter even if it meant using up the last of his savings.
He’d kept his bargain with Sylvia, the promise she’d extracted at the lowest point in his life but everyone had the right to change their mind, and he’d changed his.
* * *
The slurping of water going down the plughole and the bathroom cabinet door slamming shut told Geordie he would soon have company. So with a sigh, he folded the brown paper over the letters and replaced the lid. Was it worth a prayer to ask that this would be the last time he’d add an envelope to the box? Prayers had never worked before so why try now?
Geordie stood and placed the box back inside the wardrobe and wondered if all his good deeds could be recouped and cashed in. And what about the snap of many wishbones; and the four-leaf clover that was tucked in the back of his wallet next to a photo of Carmen; or every shooting star he’d seen as he’d sailed the oceans; the seventy-six candles he’d blown out last May? Surely at least one of those wishes would come true. Surely he’d waited long enough.
4
Violetta
Macclesfield, Cheshire
Present day
Violetta had just closed the front door when Darcy, her daughter, realised she’d not opened the window on her advent calendar and was refusing to budge until they went back inside.
‘But I’ll be the only one who hasn’t opened the window and it’s bad luck.’ Darcy’s feet seemed to be welded to the step, her folded arms glued to her chest.
Violetta rolled her eyes as she picked up Darcy’s schoolbag and pointed the fob at her car, jabbing the button. ‘No, it’s not bad luck at all. And just think, it will be an extra treat when you come home tonight. Now come on, we’ll be late.’
Darcy stood firm. ‘It is bad luck. Kyra told me that if you don’t open your windows every day the Christmas ghost comes and steals all your presents and anyway, I’m going to Grandma’s after school and I’ll have lots of treats there.’
