“All what?”
“You, on your mad travels and telling me strange stories about Mum. Trying to cope without Anthony. Having lost the...” She ran her hand through her hair, then shook her head. “Oh, look, it doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does. Of course it does. I didn’t mean to worry you. Sit down with me and talk. I promise to try to listen. Tell me what’s wrong.”
For a few seconds she gazed off into the distance. Her lip curled up to the left as she seemed to consider his offer. “Okay,” she said finally.
She wrestled two deck chairs out of the shed and set them on the grass next to each other, batting off the dust and soil with a gardening glove. She and her father sat down, their faces tilted toward the sun, squinting so that whatever they said to each other was done without looking into each other’s eyes. It brought a kind of anonymity to what they had to say.
“What is it?” he said.
Lucy took a deep breath. “I want to tell you why I didn’t go to Mum’s funeral. You need to know.”
“It’s in the past. You were poorly. You said goodbye in your own way.” He spoke the words, forgiving her already even though it agonized him that she hadn’t been there. He longed with every bone in his body to know how his daughter had done such a thing.
“I was ill, but there was something else. I am so sorry...”
It was then that she let out a cry. Arthur’s eyes widened. But his daughter wasn’t a little girl any longer. Should he scoop her into his arms? He followed his instincts and got out of his deck chair. He stood, his body in silhouette against the sun, and then dropped to his knees. Circling his arms around her he held her tight, like he should have done so many times when she was growing up. For a moment she resisted, her body stiff and unresponsive. But then it was as if she was a puppet and someone let go of her strings. She crumpled into his arms. She tucked her head under his chin and they stayed there for a while, holding on for dear life.
“Whatever is the matter?”
She stifled a sob but then let it go and a noise came out of her like nothing Arthur had heard before, from deep within her chest. It was a strangled mewl. Swallowing, she wiped away a trail of spittle from her chin. “I had a miscarriage, Dad. I was fifteen weeks gone. I had the scan and everything was fine. I was going to tell you and Mum face-to-face. It seemed too exciting a thing to announce over the phone. It was my big story. I’d arranged to come over for tea, remember? I was going to tell you that I was pregnant.” She gave a sigh full of regret. “I had bad stomach cramps the day after the scan. I curled into a ball on the bathroom floor and the baby started to come too early. Anthony called for an ambulance. It arrived within minutes, but they couldn’t do anything...” She shook her head. “Sorry, I don’t want to think about it.
“We’d been drifting apart before I found I was pregnant. And then Mum died. I tried to get back on my feet. I forced myself to get out of bed and get washed and dressed, but on the day of Mum’s funeral, I broke down. I couldn’t bear to be in the church with the coffin and prayers and the crying. It was where me and Anthony got married. I’m really sorry, Dad.”
Arthur was silent as he took in her story. Everything made sense now—her distance from him. He tried to block out the thought of her curled on the bathroom floor alone. “You’ve been very brave. Your mum would understand. I wish I had known, though...”
“You had to sort out her funeral. You were grieving.”
“We should have been together as a family. There was so much to do—certificates to sign, doctors to speak to, arrangements, flowers. It helped to keep my mind busy. I didn’t notice anything wrong when I spoke to you.”
Lucy nodded. “We started to drift apart, didn’t we? When I got wrapped up with trying to save my marriage...with Dan moving away.”
Arthur reached out and brushed away a tear from her cheek. “We’re here now.”
Lucy gave a weak smile, then glanced around the lawn. “I’ve made a terrible mess of my garden.”
“It’s only grass.”
She flopped back onto the chair and supported her head with one hand. “Do you think about Mum a lot?”
“All the time.”
“Me, too. I pick up the phone to give her a call for a chat. But then I remember that she’s not here anymore. I pretend that she is, though. I imagine that the two of you are at your house together, and that she’s bustling around dusting, or writing her letters. If I didn’t think like that, then it would be too much to bear.”
Arthur nodded. He pulled up a daisy and twirled it around in his fingers. “I’m glad I came over.”
“Me, too. I have to phone Dan, though, to tell him that everything is okay.”
“Okay?”
“When you took off with Bernadette and then left a message about a tiger attack, I phoned Dan. I thought that maybe...”
“What?”
“That you might be starting with dementia or something.”
“Oh, Lucy, I’m sorry. I think I’m as right as rain. It’s just the bracelet triggered something in me—a need to find out about your mum. I didn’t mean to cause you any alarm.”
Lucy studied her father’s face. He had the same kindly eyes, the same red nose, as usual. She believed that he was fine. “I’m just glad that you’re okay.” She sighed with relief. “And is it really true about the bracelet? About the charms and India?”
“Yes.” He took the bracelet from his pocket and passed it to her.
Lucy studied each of the charms. She shook her head. “This doesn’t look like something Mum would own.”
“It was hers. I know it was.”
“Then I want to hear more about it. Tell me about your adventures.”
Arthur nodded. He explained how he found the bracelet. He told Lucy about the tiger, rolling up his sleeve to his shoulder to display his wound. He expressed his concern for Sebastian coping with the elderly De Chauffant and how Mike’s dog was called Lucy. He told her of his visit to see Post Office Vera.
Lucy spun the emerald in the elephant charm. “I can’t believe this is what you’ve been up to.”
“I should have told you, but it all seemed so unlikely.”
“I know now, though.” She handed the bracelet back to him. “Where next, then?”
Arthur shrugged. “I’m not sure. There are initials on the paint palette. S.Y. The jewelry shop owner didn’t know what they were.”
“You have got to carry on your search.”
“But what if I find out more things that should remain hidden? The more I find out, the more questions it raises.”
“Isn’t it better to know? Do you remember that Mum gave me her pink-and-white-striped box before she died? It has lots of photos in there. I’ve not been able to bring myself to look through it. I could get it now...” She let the comment hang in the air.
Arthur had forgotten about the candy-striped box that Miriam kept in the cupboard over the bed. She had asked Arthur if he minded her giving it to Lucy and he said that he didn’t. He remembered people and things and times in his head and wasn’t sentimental for taking snaps, or keeping train tickets or postcards or holiday souvenirs. Arthur stared up at the sky and then the soil-studded grass. “It’s up to you,” he said.
Lucy went to get the box and they sat at the kitchen table. When she took off the lid Arthur could smell old paper, ink and lavender perfume.
He watched as Lucy took out a chunk of photos and browsed through them one at a time. She turned them this way and that and smiled. She held one up and Arthur saw it was of his wedding day. His black hair curled and flopped over his right eyebrow. The sleeves of his suit were too long, almost covering his knuckles. Miriam wore her mother’s wedding dress. It had been passed down through the family. Her grandmother had worn it, too. It was a little too big on the waist. “Are you sure you don’t want to look?” she said.