The Wish. Alex Brown
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face wreathed in a smile. Gone were the little girl bunches and gappy grin that he always pictured in his mind’s eye when he thought of his daughter, even though bunches hadn’t been a thing for a while now. Her shoulder-length bobbed hair had sophisticated-looking caramel and honey-blonde bits running through it, which accentuated the sparkly shimmer on her eyelids. Her gappy grin was now complemented by a brace on her teeth. Sam felt his forehead crease; the skirt, if you could call it that, was way too short. It was her usual tartan school skirt, but it barely covered her bottom. Surely that wasn’t the regulation uniform? How could she have grown up so fast? And how come he hadn’t noticed these changes during those FaceTime calls? It just went to show that nothing could beat a proper old-fashioned face-to-face conversation.
‘Hello, darling!’ Sam beamed, and Holly threw herself into his arms. He picked her up and swung her around, like he used to when she was little. ‘Ooof, steady on,’ he joked, pretending to be winded as she squeezed him tight.
‘Oh Dad, you’re not that ancient.’ Holly stepped back, giving his arm a playful punch. Sam was aware of Chrissie standing aside, allowing father and daughter their moment together.
‘Hi, Sam,’ Chrissie said. Sam caught his breath as they made eye contact. She looked amazing in a clingy black top and tight jeans. Her blonde hair was a little longer and wavier than it used to be, and she had lipstick on, something she rarely wore. And she smelt gorgeous, like honey and almonds. But it wasn’t her usual perfume. Sam instinctively wanted to reach out and touch her, but managed to resist. He and Chrissie had always been affectionate and touchy-feely with each other. To hover here, with her so close but just out of reach, was almost too much for him to bear.
Chrissie held his gaze and Sam noticed a slight flush on her cheeks, a sure sign that she was struggling to keep her emotions in check too. He took a step towards her, but an almost imperceptible shake of her head stopped him in his tracks. In her eyes, Sam could see resolve, but conflict too. Damn it, how had they got to this point? When he adored her. And he was sure that she … at the very least … still cared.
‘Come on, Dad, come in. I’ve got so much to show you.’ Holly quickly sidestepped around her mum, holding Sam by the arm. ‘You’ll never believe how good I am on the guitar now. Better than you, I bet.’ She laughed, but her smile faltered a little when Chrissie spoke.
‘Dad can’t stay for too long today, Holly. Perhaps you can have tea with him on Saturday at Granny Dolly’s house. Plus, you need to go and finish your homework now … it’s getting late and you have school tomorrow,’ Chrissie said, not looking Sam in the eye.
‘But it’s only Tuesday. I want to see him now. Saturday is like nearly a whole week away.’ Holly folded her arms.
Sam could see, despite feeling as if he’d been punched in the stomach, that this wasn’t the moment to challenge Chrissie’s decision and risk starting an argument.
‘Maybe it’s best if you do as Mum says. We’ll have loads of time together just as soon as Mum and I have had a good catch-up,’ he intervened, smiling and keen to keep his cool. ‘Here, these are for you,’ he said giving her the bag of knick-knacks that he’d picked up from the airport – keyrings, a cuddly toy, bath bombs, sticker book; there were no sweets, though: for Holly they were strictly rationed.
‘Oh, thanks, Dad!’ Holly grinned, taking the bag and peeping inside it before turning to Chrissie. ‘Mum, can I just show Dad my room, I want him to see the blanket I knitted.’
Chrissie eyed them both warily. ‘OK, Hol, but just ten minutes, you and Dad can have a proper catch-up at the weekend. I’ll be in the kitchen, Sam, if you want a quick chat before you go.’
Ten minutes later, and Sam was sitting on the chair beside Holly’s desk. She had hurriedly told him absolutely everything that had happened in her life since they had last spoken on the phone. Plus, proudly shown him the blanket which had taken her two weeks to knit. It was a mixture of pansy colours – purple, pink, blue, yellow and white squares all sewn together.
‘This is amazing,’ Sam said, holding up the blanket and keen to show an interest in his daughter’s new hobby, but then inadvertently spoiled the compliment by adding, ‘did you knit it all by yourself?’
‘Of course I did, Dad. I’m not a baby,’ she told him, rolling her eyes dramatically. ‘I learnt how to knit on YouTube. It’s really cool.’ She took the blanket from him and carefully positioned it over the duvet across the bottom of her bed.
‘I see.’ Sam nodded. ‘So it’s not all gangsters demonstrating dodgy dance moves and people telling you what stuff to buy on there, then?’
‘Oh Dad, you’re so lame sometimes,’ Holly laughed, shaking her head at him. ‘But, it is brilliant to have you home.’
‘It’s brilliant to be home,’ he smiled and stood up. ‘But I’m going to pop down and chat to Mum now.’
‘But what about the guitar? I want to show you how good I am?’
‘I know, darling. How about we get the guitar out at Granny Dolly’s when you come over?’ Sam appeased, but thought the whole situation just felt so wrong. And none of it was fair on Holly. She was still just a kid … even if she was dressed up like Taylor Swift.
‘OK.’ Holly sat down on the bed, looking resigned, but just as he bent to give her a kiss goodbye she asked, ‘Everything is going to be all right … isn’t it, Dad?’ And in that moment, she was the little girl with the bunches. The image he always held in his head from when she was about six years old and everything was happy and good. And long before his marriage had started to crack. He hesitated before answering, unsure if Chrissie had explained anything to her.
‘It’s complicated, Holly.’
‘But you will make it right, won’t you, Dad. You’ll sort it out with Mum?’
Sam saw the heartache in his daughter’s eyes and felt a swirl of emotion. ‘I’m going to do everything I can, I promise you.’ Holly gave him a smile, reassured. And he wished he felt as confident as he sounded.
Heading downstairs, Sam sneaked a glance at the master bedroom as he passed by, briefly pausing to take in the familiar soft grey walls with the original black wooden beams and shabby chic furniture that Chrissie had sourced from various country fairs, and then lovingly restored. The handmade crushed velvet curtains. A stack of books on her bedside cabinet, her intoxicating perfume punctuating the air. The neatly arranged hand-crochet-covered cushions on their enormous bed. The bed that he and his wife should be in together.
Sam found Chrissie in the kitchen, standing against the red Aga. She handed him a mug of hot black coffee. ‘Strong and sweet. The way you like it,’ she said, tilting her head to one side.
‘Thanks.’ As he took it, his fingers brushed hers and an electric spark shot up his arm. ‘Strong and sweet … just like you.’ He eyed her over his coffee mug, trying to be playful, but on seeing the look she gave him, a knot of doubt crept in. Did she think he was being patronising? It was hard to be sure. There was a time when he could read her like a book, but not now, it seemed … and that just compounded his feelings about this whole situation. It was almost as if they were two strangers.
‘Hmm, it’s a good job I am strong, Sam. Seeing as I’ve had to manage on my own for the last few years.’ He smarted. Chrissie had gone straight for the jugular.
After gulping down a mouthful of the coffee, he replied.
‘Look … Chris,’ he started, ‘I know that I haven’t got things right. I realise now that I should have seen that you needed me here, but you’ve always been so … capable. And self-sufficient.’
‘Self-sufficient?’ Chrissie’s voice rose an octave. Her cobalt eyes flashed as she quirked an eyebrow. And the uncertainty Sam had felt earlier vanished in an instance – he knew exactly what she was thinking now; her hackles were well and truly up. ‘Is that how it works then? I’m the self-sufficient one, just getting on with it all, while you’re the one who