Summer Season on the Seafront. Katie Ginger
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when she realised Sarah was lagging behind. ‘What’s wrong, love? Christ, you’ve gone white as a sheet. What’s the matter?’
The man at the door had stopped banging and stood back with his hands in his trouser pockets. Clearly there was no medical emergency. The only emergency was the one suddenly happening in Sarah’s own life. The man looked like any normal customer they might see. Blond hair cut short, greying at the temples, wrinkled features.
‘Do you know him?’ asked Mandy, placing her hand on Sarah’s forearm. Sarah’s hands were covering her mouth. Finn turned around and waited for Sarah’s reply. His eyes were full of concern and a small line had formed where his eyebrows pulled together in confusion. ‘Sarah?’ Mandy asked again, giving her a gentle shake. Stuck in a moment of suspended animation, Sarah looked first at Mandy and then at Finn, knowing that if there had ever been any hope of something happening between them, that hope was about to be snuffed out like a lit match caught in a breeze. Everyone would know her secret soon, and she had no idea how to deal with it.
Under their concerned gaze, Sarah forced the words out of her dry mouth. ‘It’s my dad.’
***
‘Do you want me to open the door?’ asked Finn. ‘Or should I tell him to go away?’
A shiver ran down Sarah’s spine, carrying all the way to the tips of her fingers as she balled her hands into fists. Did she want to go out there and talk to him, or would it be better to speak in here? Should she speak to him at all? If he came inside everyone would know what he’d done. But then, if he was back, they were bound to find out sooner or later anyway. Her mind whirled with a million and one things as all the while Finn watched her.
‘You can speak to him in my room if you want,’ he said gently, and Sarah found herself nodding. Finn moved forwards and opened the door. Ben, Sarah’s dad, stepped forwards in his tatty brown suede shoes. He’d always worn shoes like that. Had he been allowed to wear them in prison? she wondered. Every sound was muffled but she heard Ben politely thank Finn for letting him in and say something about wanting to speak to her. Finn walked back towards the staffroom. As he passed Sarah he reached out and took her arm. ‘I’ll be in the staffroom if you need anything.’
Mandy followed him out, casting a concerned glance at Sarah. Though she tried to respond with a smile to show she would be okay, Sarah couldn’t seem to move her face. Her features were frozen in a mask of startled panic.
‘Hello, sugarplum,’ Ben said in a hoarse voice she barely recognised. But by calling her sugarplum she was suddenly six years old again, her dad reading her bedtime stories, or a teenager, and he was picking up the pieces after a boy had broken her heart. Sarah’s frozen body began to thaw but before it could her brain replayed one of the last times they had spoken. It had been on the phone because he was in prison. She was alone, dealing with her mother’s rapid decline from cancer. A sudden surge of anger hardened her jaw and made her teeth clench. How could he have left them to deal with everything alone? Left her? And even worse, how could he come back now?
Straightening up, she said, ‘We can speak in Dr MacDonald’s room.’
At her coldness Ben’s face fell, but she had no sympathy for him. He couldn’t have expected a warm welcome, and if he did, he was a fool. With a brisk turn on her heel Sarah marched into Finn’s room, leaving Ben to close the door behind him. He had barely taken his hand off the handle when she asked, ‘What are you doing here?’
Ben pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. He’d always done that when he was nervous or thinking. ‘I was released from prison last week. I … I wanted to see you.’
‘Why?’ Her voice was harsh, with a hardness she hadn’t known herself capable of. The question shocked him and his head shot up, eyes full of hurt.
‘Because you’re my daughter.’
‘I’ve got nothing to say to you.’ Sarah crossed her arms firmly over her chest, unwavering.
‘Sugarplum, please—’
‘Don’t call me sugarplum. I’m not a child. And I have nothing to say to you. You’re not my father anymore.’
The wrinkles of Ben’s forehead collided as he knitted his brows together. ‘You don’t mean that.’
‘Yes, I do. You selfishly stole money from your job and got yourself slung into prison leaving me to deal with Mum dying all on my own.’ There was so much more to mention but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She’d locked those things away, too much to deal with at the time and too scared to try now.
‘I know.’ He dropped his eyes and kept them on the ground. ‘I’m sorry. I—’
‘Sorry isn’t enough, Dad. Sorry can never erase my memories of watching Mum wither away. Of having to sort out the funeral all on my own, of having to pretend you’d left us to work abroad because it was easier than telling everyone you’d been sent to prison. Sorting out all of Mum’s clothes when she’d gone—’ Sarah’s voice cracked and tears pooled in her eyes. She squeezed them shut, willing the tears away. She’d vowed long ago not to cry over her dad anymore. Taking a quick breath in, she said, ‘How dare you come back.’
Ben hung his head in what Sarah hoped was shame and shoved his glasses back up. ‘I had nowhere else to go.’
‘Then find somewhere, because I never want to see you again.’ The room felt suddenly oppressive, like the world was shrinking, threatening to crush her. She needed to get out. To get away from him. Hurrying to the door, she flung it open and marched off.
Finn must have heard her raised voice, as he was waiting for her at the staffroom door. ‘He’s leaving,’ Sarah said without looking back. ‘Can you make sure he goes – please?’ He opened his mouth to speak but she headed him off, worried what he would think of her now. ‘I’ll be okay, I just need him to go.’
Whilst Finn escorted Ben out of the building, Mandy slid back into the staffroom.
‘Jesus Christ on a bike, that was intense,’ said Mandy. ‘What was all that about?’ Sarah turned but couldn’t speak. If she was going to tell anyone it would be Lottie and she hated the fact she was going to have to wait till tonight to do it. ‘Sarah?’
‘I’m sorry, Mandy. I can’t.’ A fierce heat burned her cheeks. ‘I just can’t right now.’
‘All right, love. But do you really have a hip flask in your top drawer? Because I could do with a drop now and I don’t even drink gin.’
‘No,’ Sarah replied, trying to smile and pretend everything was okay. She smoothed down her brown hair, her heart beating rapidly. ‘But I bloody wish I did.’
Sarah stood in front of the theatre’s revolving doors wondering whether to go in or not. The theatre had become a safe, happy place for her and, as cheesy as it sounded, a home from home – a place full of friends. Well mostly, if you excluded Mrs Andrews. But even she wasn’t that bad underneath it all. Sarah took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to go in after all that had happened today. She’d been supremely angry all afternoon, and as that had begun to fade, she felt nothing but tired and exhausted.
Somehow, she had managed to hold it together that afternoon at the surgery, smiling at the patients and answering the phone. She’d even managed to laugh with Mandy about the soap opera they both watched. Mandy had questions, but they were ones Sarah wasn’t prepared to answer yet. Finn had grabbed her once during a quick tea-making round to see if she was okay. As they stood together by the boiling kettle, a part of her had wanted to tell him everything. She just knew that he’d understand how angry she was and not judge her for it. But she couldn’t bring herself to tell him anything at all. The risk of lowering his opinion of her made her shy away from opening up. But she was sure