‘That’s what I was trying to do, Gran, get on with it … keep working, keep going.’
‘Keep going? Or burying your head in the sand?’ Dolly topped his tea up from the big knitted-cosy-covered teapot, letting the question sink in.
Sam picked up the plate, took another bite of the cake and looked up at Dolly’s lined but still beautiful face. Dolly, who had been more of a proper mum to him than his own mother, Linda, ever had.
When his dad had died, Dolly had been stoic, forging ahead with the funeral arrangements for her only son, Rob. She had even looked after Sam and Patrick, full time, in the days following, when their mum, Linda, had taken herself off on a holiday to Spain, supposedly ‘to deal with it on her own’, or so she had said at the time. But how come Sam had found a pile of photographs in a shoebox some years later, of her sunbathing, smiling and sipping cocktails with a big group of people he didn’t even recognise?
Linda … the mother who’d barely batted an eyelid when he’d got into trouble at school for bunking off, who would rather sit at her kidney-shaped dressing table applying lipstick than make sure he and Patrick had breakfast before they went to school. Once their dad was gone, there had never been much food in the house and the last time Sam had pinched a bun from the baker’s basket outside the shop in the High Street, he’d very nearly been caught. If his brother Patrick hadn’t distracted the woman who worked in the bakery shop then he would have ended up at the police house on the far side of village green for sure.
After that, Sam had invariably bunked off school, figuring it was far easier than trying to concentrate with an aching, empty stomach … counting the hours until he could pass by his gran’s on the way home for his tea. A cheese doorstep sandwich, a big slice of chocolate or fruitcake and a packet of Smith’s crisps in front of his favourite television programme, Crackerjack. He and Pat would put off going home for as long as possible, knowing that their tea at Dolly’s was likely to be all they would get until after school the following day. He suspected that Dolly knew this too as she would often pack a sausage roll or two in their satchels – he was also vaguely aware of arguments on the phone after he and Pat had gone to bed and his mother’s raised voice exhorting Dolly to mind her own business. But now it was all muddled up in a miserable jumble of sad memories of his childhood years.
Meeting Chrissie was the first time he remembered being really happy since his father had died. And when they’d had Holly, he had a burning wish to make sure she would never feel the same as he had as a child: to have to go without meals, or to miss out on a full education because no one cared. Patrick had built a new life for himself as far away from his mother as he could get, in Australia. Too far for Linda, who had hardly ever been back to Tindledale since taking herself off to live in London. But what about Holly? She was going without now. Going without two parents pulling together.
‘Any chance of something stronger, Gran?’ Sam lifted his empty mug as he tried to process all his thoughts. Dolly gave him a look.
‘Come on now, Sam. Alcohol isn’t the answer. Tea was good enough for your dad at dinnertime and it will be good enough for you.’ Sam gave her a mock salute.
‘You’re the boss.’
Dolly batted him gently.
‘Now stop mucking about!’ she pretended to admonish. ‘And think about what you’re going to do to make things right with you and Chrissie? Marriage is a marvellous thing, but you need to work at it. Put the effort in,’ she added, glancing at her own engagement and wedding rings.
‘And I fully intend to do just that. I’m going to be here, Gran,’ he said with resolve. ‘I’m going to really be here for Chrissie and Holly. And I’m going to try and work it out myself, so I don’t mess it up again – if they’ll give me another chance.’
Dolly took the now empty mug from his hands before standing behind him and putting her arms around his back to hold him in a hug. Silence followed and Sam had to swallow hard a few times to stop his emotions from bubbling up and swirling his eyes with tears.
‘It will be OK,’ Dolly eventually said, very softly. ‘You’re home, for starters. That has to make things easier,’ she told him, echoing Jude’s sentiment from earlier. ‘You didn’t have a hope of talking to Chrissie properly from the other side of the world. It’s just not the same, son. A woman wants the closeness. To see your face in front of her in the room. Not on a screen, or just to hear your voice down a phone line.’
‘You know, Chrissie still won’t see me properly, just the two of us.’ Sam shook his head. ‘And I know she and Holly aren’t getting on. It’s such a mess.’
‘But you have to give her time. Remember what I said about not expecting too much too quickly. This situation between the two of you didn’t happen overnight, and it’s not going to be fixed overnight either. For what it’s worth, I know Chrissie does still love you.’
‘Do you really think so?’ Sam asked. ‘You’d tell me if she was seeing someone else, wouldn’t you?’
‘Why on earth would you say that?’ Dolly frowned.
‘I dunno. It’s just the other night when I saw her … well, she looked really great, dressed up and with perfume on. And the effort wasn’t intended for me. She kept looking at her watch and couldn’t wait to get rid of me. She was expecting someone. Someone she didn’t want me to see, I reckon.’
‘Don’t be daft.’
‘Why daft? I didn’t imagine it.’
‘Well, you know how people talk in the village. Not to be mean, I should add.’ Dolly patted her hair. ‘But we all tend to know everyone’s business, and I’m sure someone would have mentioned something to me. None of that matters anyway; you know that old adage, if something is worth fighting for …’ She inhaled sharply before letting a long breath of wisdom out as she moved her head from side to side. ‘You must stop feeling sorry for yourself and take action. Arrange a date with Chrissie properly. Have a look at what went wrong, and work out what you need to do – both of you; you’re in this together and you both need to be honest. And, in the meantime, Holly has a family who all love her and we’ll make sure she is OK while you two sort things out.’ Dolly smiled. ‘Your dad always used to say, “A father carries photos where his money used to be.” Family is what counts, Sam.’
Sam smiled, this had always been her way. Pragmatic with a no-nonsense approach.
They were interrupted by the old-fashioned bell jangling in the front porch.
‘You sit there, Gran, I know who this is.’ Sam bounded out to the doorway like an excited puppy and a few seconds later Holly was in the kitchen with an enormous grin on her face.
‘Hello sweetheart, this is a nice surprise.’ Dolly stood up and pulled her in for a big cuddle.
Sam was overjoyed to see his daughter and wrapped his arms around both Holly and his gran into a group hug. Holly yelped that she couldn’t breathe and as Sam pulled away he instinctively smoothed a hand over the top of her head as he always had.
‘Oh Dad, watch out,’ she laughed, checking her hair with her hands, ‘it took me ages to get it straight.’
‘Don’t be daft. Your hair is lovely just the way it’s meant to be,’ Sam said, then instantly wished he hadn’t when he saw the look on his daughter’s face. He coughed to clear his throat and changed the subject. ‘Fancy a drink?’ he motioned for her to sit down.
‘Yes please, Dad.’
‘Orange juice?’ he asked, without really thinking.
‘Um, no!’ Holly pulled a face at him. ‘Unless