‘Hello, son,’ he replied, grimacing as if the term created a bitter taste in his mouth. ‘Long time no see.’
Lucas sat down and shuffled the chair closer to the table, then folded his hands on the surface. ‘Well, Dad, that works both ways.’ He cleared his throat. Standing up to his father had never been easy, not even as an adult, and it didn’t feel right even now at forty-one. But he’d made himself a promise that when he came back to Porthpenny, he would not bow down to his father; he would stand up to him at last and be a man.
‘Humph.’ His father shrugged. ‘Do you want tea?’ He raised a hand, and Lucas swallowed a gasp because it was so distorted, it looked more like a twisted bundle of twigs.
‘I’ll make it.’ Lucas stood up. ‘Have you eaten this morning?’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’
‘Wasn’t hungry,’ his father mumbled.
‘Well, I’ll make you something.’ Lucas filled the kettle and set it to boil, then he went to the fridge and opened it. He almostkeeled over at the stench that hit him, and he had to take a step back and hold his breath. Turning, he looked at his father to see if he’d say anything, but his glasses were back on his nose and he’d gone back to his crossword.
Lucas stared inside the fridge, searching for some milk. There was a carton of yogurt that looked like it was about to explode because the top was bulging. There were jars of jam and pickle, some of which appeared to be empty, and one with a yellow-brown substance that might have been mustard once upon a time. The bottom drawer had something fuzzy and spore-like growing in it that wouldn’t look amiss on an apocalyptic Netflix show. Then there was a packet that looked like it had once contained meat and was now oozing a sticky brown fluid. Recoiling, Lucas slammed the door shut and went to the sink to scrub his hands.
‘Tell you what, Dad, why don’t we go up to The Garden Café? We can get some air and have brunch there and you can tell me how you’ve been.’
His father looked up and raised his grey brows. ‘Brunch?’
‘Yes.’
‘At Pearl’s café?’
‘Yes.’ Lucas nodded, not sure if Pearl Draper still owned the café. He’d taken his father there a few times during his rare visits over the years and really liked what Pearl had done with the place. ‘That’s right.’
‘But it’s cold out.’
Lucas bit back the reply,It’s warmer out there than it is in here,and instead said, ‘We can wrap up warm. It’ll be nice to take awalk and get something to eat. Come on … When was the last time you went out? When was the last time you ate something?’
Silence fell in the kitchen apart from the ticking of the clock on the wall and the dripping of the tap over the sink. Lucas tried to breathe calmly, to give his father a chance to decide.
‘All right then. We’ll go out to eat.’
As the elderly man pushed his chair back and stood up, guilt and concern washed over Lucas because his father looked like a shrunken version of the man he’d once been. His back was curved, his shoulders bony, and his jeans hung off his frame. His shirt was wrinkled, and his beard needed a good trim. Lucas was shocked by the difference; this wasn’t the man he remembered from his childhood. He felt guilty that he hadn’t witnessed the decline from strong patriarch to elderly man. A man who clearly was not taking care of himself.
Well, he reasoned, he was back now, and he would do what he could to help. If his father would let him, that was, because he could be a stubborn old goat and had always been the same — just without theoldpart.
‘I’ll just grab my jacket,’ his father said as they walked out to the hallway.
When he retrieved a battered black leather bomber jacket from the hook and pulled it on, Lucas knew the man he’d known was still there. Just smaller and frailer. He’d always been quite vain, so something must have caused this shift in him. Lucas would find out what had happened and put some measures in place to ensure his father was looked after going forwards.
But there was no way that he intended on staying in the village. No way at all. He’d left here once, and he had no intention of coming back to stay, not even to take care of an ageing parent.
Porthpenny was his past and his future was … well, it wasn’t here in Cornwall.
3
THORA
‘These look delicious, Ellie,’ Thora said as she picked up the tray of mini mince pies. Ellie had decorated them with white icing and holly leaves and berries made of coloured icing.
‘Thanks, Thora.’ Ellie was rolling pastry on the large rectangular island in the kitchen. A hairnet concealed her dark hair, and she wore a white apron over her clothes. It was a chilly November day, but the kitchen was warm and Ellie’s cheeks were rosy.
‘I’ll take these out and come back and help you.’
Pearl had an appointment this morning, so it was just Thora and Ellie running the café. While Ellie had stayed in the kitchen, Thora had been out front serving customers. They’d had a breakfast rush, then a quieter hour, but now she had three tables of customers to serve and some had requested items from the festive menu.
