I park the car next to Dad’s ancient blue Ford Mondeo and hunch myself against the icy rain as I hurry up to the front door. I still have a key, so I use it and call out to let him know I’m here. Dad comes out of the kitchen into the hall. ‘Hi, love. It’s coming down out there.’
I wipe the rain off my face.
‘Nice to see you with some colour in your cheeks. You were very pale at the wedding.’
‘Hi, Dad.’ I lean in for a brief hug and a peck on his cheek. ‘We had good weather on our honeymoon.’
‘Oh yeah? That’s good. Had a good trip, did you?’
‘Yes, thanks. You should have come to Celia and Malcolm’s for Christmas. Everyone missed you. How was Wales?’
‘Oh, you know, the usual.’
‘And Aunty Caroline?’
‘Fine. She sends her love. Want a cup of tea? Kettle’s on.’ He turns and heads back into the kitchen.
‘Just a glass of water please.’
He glances back. ‘No tea? What’s wrong with you?’
The kitchen is a mess, with papers and bits of old machinery covering the worktops and table. Empty mugs and dirty plates plug the gaps. Dad has always been fairly messy but living on his own has made him so much worse. I raise an eyebrow.
‘Don’t start,’ he mutters. ‘I’ll have a tidy round in a day or two once I’ve got this bike engine running.’ Dad’s only passion in life – since Mum – is motorbikes. He’s always tinkering with bits of old engine. Mum never used to let any of it inside the house, and he respected her wishes, for a long time even after she died. But lately, he’s let all that go.
‘Want me to help clear up?’ I offer. ‘I could do the dishes and tidy away some of this…’ I gesture to the sink area.
‘No, I’m in the middle of something.’ He tuts. ‘Stop fussing, Zoe.’
‘What is it you’re doing? Actually, don’t worry. Shall we sit in the lounge?’
‘What’s wrong with in here?’ He points to an empty seat.
I take off my coat and sit down, knowing better than to object. I swear Dad doesn’t use any of the other downstairs rooms apart from the kitchen and the loo. He has a little TV above the breakfast bar that he watches, even in the evenings, despite the fact that I bought him a flat-screen TV for the lounge last Christmas. And the dining room is completely redundant. I don’t think anyone has set foot in there for over a year.
Mum used to love it when we all sat in the dining room for Sunday lunch. She would make an occasion of it, with all the best china and glasses. And she loved having Christmas dinner in there too. Every year we would decorate the room with tinsel and table decorations, play seasonal music and light a cheerful fire in the hearth. A couple of years after she died, I tried to recreate a similar Christmas day for the three of us. But Dina was disappointed that Dad had forgotten to get us any presents, so she spent the whole day in her bedroom refusing to come out even when I begged her to join us for lunch. If only she had been a bit more willing to try. To meet me halfway… but it’s no good wishing. Not now anyway.
Dad walks over to the sink. ‘Water, you say?’
I nod and he pours me a glass before making himself a cup of tea.
‘I’ve got some news.’
‘Oh yeah?’ He spoons sugar into his mug and turns around, stirring his tea.
‘How would you like to be a grandad?’
He glances up sharply. ‘You’re…?’
‘Yep. Due in July.’
‘Oh, Zoe.’ He puts his mug on the counter and nods, his eyes softening. ‘Congratulations, love.’
‘Thanks.’
‘You feeling all right?’
‘A bit tired, but I’m okay.’