Things I Want My Daughters to Know_ A Novel - Elizabeth Noble [91]
“And did she? Know?”
“No. It seems Mum really had kept her little secret completely to herself all those years. Lisa was as shocked as I was. Almost.”
“What did she have to say about it?”
“Well…she said all the right things, I suppose. She kind of defended Mum to me, which was a bit weird. And pretty brave of her, given the mood I was in when I told her. But she said all this stuff about nobody being perfect, and all of us making mistakes and I suppose she’s right….”
“What about your stepfather? Are you going to talk to him?”
“I don’t know. The thing is, when I left your place, when it was all fresh and new information, I was…so incredibly angry. I wanted to do something. But there’s nothing I can do, is there? I mean, I can’t have it out with her, because she’s dead. I can’t talk to Donald—he’s dead, too. I can’t find my real father, and try and figure anything out through him, because I haven’t got any clues about who he is or where he is…. I can’t do anything.”
Ed nodded.
“So, I have two choices, I think. I can either forget about it, or I can let it eat me up. Stay angry, you know? And I can’t see the point in that.”
“That makes perfect sense on paper. I’m just not sure how easy that would be to do. I mean, if I try and imagine myself in the same position.”
“That’s a quantum leap for you, my friend. You’re from the original perfect family.”
Ed snorted. “We’re not so perfect.”
“You could have fooled me!” She smacked his arm playfully.
“Okay. I’m pretty lucky. I know that.”
“Well, you know what? I’m pretty lucky, too. In the big scheme of things.”
“Really?”
“Really. I might wish it was different. But it wasn’t so bad.”
“And that is what you really think? Not just what you’re saying?”
She narrowed her eyes at him. “What? You think you know me well enough to say stuff like that to me, do you?!”
“I think I’m starting to.”
And, of course, he was.
ED’S DAD LOOKED JUST LIKE ED. SILVER HAIRED, BUT OTHERWISE just the same. Down to the twinkle in his eye. Amanda hovered near the door of his private room while Ed embraced his father, kissing him on the cheek.
“How are you, Dad?” He dropped the copy of the Times he’d bought at Tesco onto his father’s lap. “Thought you’d rather have a paper than a bag of grapes.”
“Absolutely. Hate grapes. Love news. Thanks, son.”
“Feeling better?”
“Feeling fine. Doctors are talking about letting me out tomorrow or the day after. Bloody good thing.” He held up a small collection of plastic spoons he retrieved from the top pocket of his stripey pajamas. “I’ve been saving these things—Christ knows I don’t need them to eat the rice pudding, which is utterly inedible—and I’m going to tunnel my way out by myself if they don’t sign the ruddy papers.”
“Mum says you’ve got to behave yourself.”
“Hah!” He raised a cynical eyebrow. “Now—enough about me. Even I’m bored to tears, and I’m an egomaniac. Who is this lovely you’ve brought to cheer me up? This must be Wilhelmina.”
“Amanda, Dad.”
He laughed at his own joke. “I know, I know. Amanda, of course. The girl from the coffee shop. Come here, my dear. Don’t hover about over there.”
Ed must have been talking about her. She liked that he knew about the coffee shop. Amanda, enchanted, came up to the bed, and held out her hand.
“Hi. It’s really nice to meet you, Mr….”
“Call me Jeremy. Much nicer for me to meet you, I’m sure. You’re ever so pretty.”
Amanda blushed at the simple compliment. “Thank you. You’re ever so kind.”
He was still holding her hand. They smiled broadly at each other. Without looking at his son, he issued instructions.
“Ed—bring the girl a chair. Then go and get her a drink, will you? There’s a machine out on the ward. Tastes like hell, but it’s hot. And it comes in plastic, disposable plastic. Cuts down on your MRSA risk. The place is riddled, I expect. I’m going to boil wash myself when I finally get home.” Ed complied obediently, rolling his eyes at Amanda as he backed out of the room.
“I saw that,” Jeremy said.
“NO POINT GETTING OLD IF YOU CAN’T GET CANTANKEROUS