I’ve gone through these, there’s nothing I’d like to change, so can we go ahead?
I tapped the pad with my pencil to gain his attention. The Miller that turned towards me and sat was the one I’d seen the most of. He smiled and nodded, his earlier mood concealed.
“That’s great,” he said.
I signed the documents to give him the go ahead to proceed and we shook hands to seal the deal. He took one copy and folded it in half; he left the other on the table.
Do you need these? I wrote, tapping the plans.
“No, they’re your copies. Like I said before, I’ll get started with a pre-application, that will give the council a chance to decide if there’s anything they don’t like before we go with the full application.”
“Do you anticipate any problems, Miller?” Dad asked, taking the seat beside him.
“Not really, there are enough parking spaces. They do get a bit anxious about that. It’s a sympathetic conversion to a building that’s outlived its purpose. I’ve dealt with the planning officer many times, he’s usually a good guy, never caught him on a bad day yet,” he said with a laugh.
For an hour or so after Miller had left, I sat and pondered on his reaction to seeing me with Daniel. He’d said they weren’t close, in fact, he hadn’t acknowledged Daniel in any way. But that didn’t excuse his attitude towards me. He confused me but I decided I wasn’t going to worry about it. I’d keep a professional relationship with him. It would have been nice to have a couple of friends locally. Since we were probably the only three in the village under the age of sixty, it was a shame that wasn’t likely to happen.
The sound of the letterbox rattling brought me out of my thoughts. Dad had popped up to the local shop as we were low on milk, or maybe he just wanted a chat with Mrs. Hampton. I walked to the front door and saw the familiar purple envelope on the mat. If I could time when I was likely to get a response from Lincoln, I’d sit by the living room window and see if I could catch who was delivering the letter. I bent down to pick it up.
I held the envelope in my hand for a while, just staring at our two names on the front. The flap was held down with fresh tape but I wasn’t sure how long the envelope would survive. It was torn on one corner, frayed on another. I took the letter upstairs, wanting some privacy when I read it. Dad was due back soon.
Dani,
I’m glad you find these letters therapeutic; I do, too. I rarely talk about emotion, or how I’m feeling. It’s not the done thing for a guy, we’re supposed to ‘get over it’ or ‘move on.’ I was even told that I’d spent enough time mourning; it was time to pull myself together. That comment hurt, especially since it was from a family member.
Is it selfish of you to want to experience something positive? Of course not. Looking forwards is all you have, Dani. You can spend your life looking back, but you’ll end up standing in one place. I don’t believe you’d want that. It took me a long time to understand that concept; the drink paralysed me for a while. I did some stupid things; spoke terrible words to those that cared about me. I alienated myself, and for a long time, I was happy about that. I didn’t want their pity, their concern, and I didn’t want to infect them with my misery.
I’m also happy to hear you’re going to a therapist. I believe you have so much to say, can you imagine how wonderful it will feel to speak out the words you want to when you visit Trey and Hannah? Those words will float off, Dani, to be heard by them wherever they are. Thoughts can only be contained within the mind. Words are free. Which is why, I guess, they are also so abused.
We lost power, too. It took until the end of the following day for us to be reconnected. Like you, I sat with the fire roaring and the candles burning. It made me think of how much time is wasted with a blaring television or the undecipherable music on the radio. It was nice to just sit and think, to read a little, and to ponder on life.
It’s the third anniversary of Anna’s death soon. I don’t intend to hide away. Do you remember what I said about her hair? I’m going to do what she wanted, and throw it out to sea. She had such a fascination with the sea, loved being in it at all times of the year. She’d always wanted to be a marine biologist, but sadly, she’d never gotten her desired career. That was my fault.
I have many regrets; I have many wrongs to right. It’s only now, and I thank you for this, that I feel able to start that next leg of my journey.
Make that appointment, Dani, let your words be free.
Lincoln.
I read his letter a couple of times. There was something maudlin about it. There wasn’t one particular thing that jumped out at me, just the tone of what he’d written. I guessed coming up to Anna’s passing anniversary had done that. I wondered, again, if my writing to him prompted him to think of her and her death more than he wanted to.
Even more so, I wanted to know who Lincoln was.
Chapter Ten
Christian made a surprise visit, without Helen or Alistair. He looked tired, dark circles framed his normally blue eyes that seemed dull with stress. His shirt was unusually creased, and there was a stain on the lapel of his jacket. At first, I assumed it was the ‘new baby thing,’ but when he avoided all reference to Helen and Alistair, I became concerned. He’d been sitting talking about my house; the agents had received an offer for the asking price from the first viewing. Christian had thought we should refuse and see if we can achieve a little more. I wasn’t particularly fussed. I told him to go ahead and accept the offer.
Periodically, Dad would look over to me. I could see the concern etched in his face. He knew something was wrong as well. Christian was often a private person but his body language screamed that all was not right.
Take a walk with me? Let me show you what we’re doing with the barn, I wrote.
He didn’t look up from the pad but slowly nodded. Dad gave me a very slight nod of his head, as if he’d approved of my question.
“How about I sort out some lunch while you two catch up?” Dad said.
“That sounds good,” Christian replied.
We rose and donned coats before leaving by the back door. I took his hand in mine while we walked towards the barn.
I pulled the creaking door open and we walked in.
Those boxes are all yours. We haven’t looked through them, thought you might like to, I wrote on my pad.
“Are you going to ever talk again?” Christian asked, surprising me.
I hope so. I’m making an appointment to see a therapist in a week or so.
“It would be nice to have a conversation with someone.”
Again, his comment surprised he. He slumped down in one of the chairs beside a pile of boxes. He pulled one towards him and opened the lid. It was a bitter laugh that left his lips when he pulled out an old small, wooden, cigar box.
Christian, are you okay? I know you’re not, but if you want to talk, I’m here, I wrote.
I wasn’t sure if the snort was in response to what I’d said or what he’d found in the cigar box. He opened the lid and pulled out a pile of letters.
“Helen has been having an affair. I don’t know if Alistair is my child or not.”
His words stunned me. I sat on a chair opposite him and reached out to take one of his hands in mine. Eventually, he looked up at me, his eyes were filled with tears.
“It’s why we haven’t invited you, or Dad, over. The atmosphere is just fucking awful, right now. I don’t know what to do about it all. I mean, I know what I want to do. If it weren’t for Alistair, I’d walk. She’s begging my forgiveness, telling me Alistair is mine but refuses a DNA test. That tells me all I need to know really.”