this.”
“You don’t have time for your own father?” His words sting me. “You know what, Mr. Big Shot, maybe your priorities are a little screwed. I
“Poppy, stop right there. You’re making a big mistake.”
He looks so impassive, I feel a surge of outrage. How
“Maybe you’re the one who’s making a big mistake!” The words burst out before I can stop them. “Maybe you’re the one who’s letting your life pass by without engaging in it! Maybe Willow’s right!”
“
“You’re going to miss out! You’re going to miss out on relationships which could give you so much, because you don’t want to talk, you don’t want to listen… .”
Sam glances around, looking embarrassed. “Poppy, cool it,” he mutters. “You’re getting too emotional.”
“Well, you’re staying too calm!” I feel like exploding. “You’re too stoic!” An image suddenly comes to me of those Roman senators, all waiting in the arena to be massacred. “You know something, Sam? You’re turning into stone.”
“Yes, stone. You’ll wake up one day and you’ll be a statue, but you won’t know it. You’ll be trapped inside yourself.” My voice is wobbling; I’m not sure why. It’s nothing to me whether he turns into a statue or not.
Sam is eyeing me warily.
“Poppy, I“ve no idea what you’re talking about. But we have to put this on pause. I have stuff I need to do.” His phone buzzes and he lifts it to his ear. “Hey, Vicks. You made it. OK, on my way.”
“I know you’re dealing with a crisis.” I grab his arm fiercely. “But there’s an old man waiting to hear from you, Sam. Longing to hear from you. For only five minutes. And you know what? I envy you.”
Sam exhales sharply. “For
“Have I?” I stare up at him, feeling all my buried emotions starting to bubble. “I just wish I had your chance. To see my dad. You don’t know how lucky you are. That’s all.”
A tear trickles down my cheek, and I brush it away brusquely.
Sam is silent. He puts his phone away and faces me square-on. When he speaks, his voice is gentle.
“Listen, Poppy. I can understand how you feel. I don’t mean to trivialize family relationships. I have a very good relationship with my father, and I see him whenever I can. But it’s not that easy, bearing in mind that he lives in Hong Kong.”
I gasp with horror. Are they
“Sam!” My words tumble out. “You don’t understand! He’s moved back. He lives in Hampshire! He sent you an email. He wanted to see you. Don’t you read
Sam throws back his head and roars with laughter, and I stare at him, affronted.
“OK,” he says at last, wiping his eyes. “Let’s start from the beginning. Let’s get this straight. You’re talking about the email from David Robinson, right?”
“No, I’m not! I’m talking about the one from—”
I break off midstream, suddenly uncertain. Robinson?
I just assumed he was David Roxton. It seemed
“Contrary to your assumptions, I
“But he called himself
“He’s not my dad in any shape or form,” says Sam patiently. “If you must know, when I was at college I hung out with a group of guys. He was one of them. David Andrew Daniel Robinson. D.A.D. Robinson. We called him Dad. OK? Got it, finally?”
He starts walking toward the hotel as though the subject is closed, but I’m rooted to the spot, my mind flitting around in shock. I can’t get over this.
I’ve never felt so stupid in all my life.
Except … Except. As I’m standing there, I can’t help replaying all David Robinson’s emails in my head.
OK. So maybe I got it wrong about Sam’s father and the cottage and the faithful dog. But these words still touch a nerve in me. They sound so humble. So self-effacing. This David is clearly an old, old friend who wants to reach out. Maybe this is another relationship which Sam is leaving to wither. Maybe they’ll see each other and the years will fall away and afterward Sam will thank me and tell me how he needs to value friendship more, he simply didn’t realize it, and I’ve transformed his life… .