So what brings you here?
He doesn’t know I’ve lost my precious baby. I never told him when I found out I was pregnant. I don’t know why – an amalgamation of reasons, probably. I suppose the news was far too good after everything that had happened. Maybe I didn’t want to jinx it. Maybe I was convinced that only bad things happen to me now. Maybe I wanted to tell him face to face. Whatever the reason, he doesn’t need to know now. He doesn’t need my tragic news on top of all the heartache he’s already been through.
‘I’ve broken up with William,’ I say, keeping my voice upbeat and even, as I fiddle with the handle of the mug.
‘Oh, love.’ He turns warm brown eyes on me.
I raise my hand, knowing if we go down the hugs road at this moment, I’ll sob like a baby. ‘But I’m fine.’
He throws me a sad smile. ‘I never liked him.’
I smile. ‘You never met him.’
‘You deserve better.’
‘Well yes, yes I do.’ Another smile, though tears are close. I’ve almost accepted I’m better off without William, but it still hurts like crazy. I need a change of subject. ‘So what the hell have you done to your hair? And what’s with the moustache?’
He laughs. ‘I’m playing Hercule Poirot.’
‘A card game?’
‘You know who Poirot is, you devil. Don’t you come here teasing your poor old dad.’
I laugh. ‘Sorry, I couldn’t resist.’ It’s good to see Dad back performing with the local am-drams. ‘Well I must say I’m relieved. I thought it was your new look. So a French detective, aye?’ I’m teasing.
He straightens his back, and with a pretty impressive accent says, ‘I’ll ’ave you know Poirot is from Belgium.’ He picks up his mug and takes a sip. ‘So are you on holiday from work?’
‘Unpaid leave.’
‘And you’re managing OK?’
I want to tell him I’m not managing at all. That I’m going to have to move out of London because I can’t afford the rent, but instead I say, ‘Fine, I’ve got a bit of money saved.’
‘It will be good for you. You never gave yourself time to grieve after your mum.’
‘Oh I don’t know, I’ve done a ridiculous amount of crying.’ My voice cracks.
‘Oh, love.’
‘Will it ever get any easier, Dad?’
He lifts his shoulders. ‘They say it does, eventually.’
I blow steam from the tea and take a sip. ‘I thought if I came to see you, stayed for a bit …’ I suddenly feel overwhelmed. I haven’t been back here since Mum died, and there are memories of her, of my childhood, everywhere.
‘The thing is …’ He glances at his case by the back door, that I hadn’t noticed.
There’s a beat before my thoughts become words. ‘You’re going away?’ I rub my temples. I don’t want to go home right now. I want to stay here with him. I meet his eyes, knowing he feels awful. ‘Oh God, I shouldn’t have turned up unannounced. I just wanted to surprise you, that’s all.’ It wasn’t strictly true. I needed him. Desperately.
‘Don’t be daft. I’m thrilled to see you, love. But—’
‘I should have called you first.’ Despite him telling me each time we spoke on the phone that he keeps busy, that he’d even joined the local ornithologists, that he’d started acting again, I still imagined him sitting at home broken – like me. And truth is, I know he is broken. He’s just better at plastering over the cracks than I am.
‘You can stay here, Amelia,’ he says. ‘I’m only away for a week, and once I’m back, we can—’
‘No. No it’s fine.’ I rise. Annoyed. Not with him, but with myself. Rattled that I assumed he would be here waiting for me, his life on pause.
‘Sit,’ he says. ‘I’m not leaving for half an hour, and I’m all packed. We have lots to catch up on.’
I lower myself back down. ‘So where are you off to?’ I say, diverting the conversation into unknown territory.
‘Well, that’s the thing.’ He avoids meeting my eyes as he runs a finger over his moustache. ‘I’m hoping you’ll understand why I didn’t tell you.’
‘Didn’t tell me?’ My body tenses.
‘I’ll be staying at Drummondale House.’
‘What?’ It came out high-pitched. ‘Why?’
‘Lark disappeared a year ago this week,’ he says.
‘Christ, Dad. Don’t you think I know that?’
He covers my hand with his. ‘I know you know that, love. I’m not trying to upset you.’
‘But why didn’t you invite me to come with you?’ I’m hurt, upset. I pull my hand from under his, lean back, and cross my arms over my chest, knowing I’m being defensive. ‘At least mention it?’
‘Because … because I didn’t think you would cope with it, Amelia. You’ve been so up and down over the last year. I thought it would be too much. I didn’t mean to deceive you. I wanted to protect you.’
He’s right. I’ve been so unstable. ‘But I still don’t get why you would go back to that place.’
His chest rises and falls as he takes a deep breath. ‘Inspector Beynon may have given up hope of finding Lark, but I haven’t. I need to check we didn’t miss anything. Something that could lead us to her.’
‘After all this time?’
He raises his eyes to the ceiling, tears glistening. ‘I don’t know. I can’t explain it. It just feels right somehow.’
‘Oh, Dad,’ I say, softening. ‘She’s not in Scotland.’ But there is no strength in my words. Despite the whole area being searched at the time, my mind still wanders back there. What if someone hid her underground, or deep in one of the many caves along the shoreline? We’d combed the area for hours, the police, dogs, and people from the local villages giving their support. But had we really covered every inch of the Drummondale House estate? I sigh deeply, reach over, and close my hand over Dad’s.
Truth is, I’ve been through every possibility. At
