“I’d date someone who had been in prison, providing they weren’t doing anything that would take them back there,” I replied.
He nodded slightly and warmth spread over me. I wasn’t sure I wanted that warmth, but I liked it. It was a boost to my very bruised ego to think, or assume, he might be interested in me beyond the client relationship.
“Time to get going,” he said, standing as the waiter handed him the bill.
“Let me give you something towards lunch,” I said reaching for my bag.
“What kind of a man would I be if I let a lady pay, even half, for lunch?”
He paid the bill and we walked back towards his truck. He opened the door for me and reached to pull the seatbelt forwards for me to grab.
It was a torturous drive home. Not because there was any tension but I didn’t want my time with him to end. Yet, I wanted my time with him to end because I wanted to get in my room and try to make sense of the feelings coursing through my body.
He dropped me off at the top of the drive.
“I won’t join you at Christmas, but thank you for the offer. I meant to say earlier. I’d like to call though, to wish you and your dad a happy day. Or as happy as it’s going to be…”
He sighed.
“Fuck it, Dani. I want to talk to you every day, okay. I’m just going to come out and say it. I want to check on you, make sure you’re coping. I feel…”
I placed my hand on his arm.
“Thank you, I appreciate that, and I’d like for you to check on me.”
I leant forwards and gave him the briefest kiss to his cheek before sliding from my seat and closing the passenger door. I walked to the front door, only turning once to give him a quick wave before stepping into the house. I leant my back against the door and my heart was hammering in my chest.
“I can’t believe I just did that,” I said, to myself.
“Can’t believe what?” Dad said as he walked out of the living room.
“Oh, nothing. I’m just going to put these upstairs.
I walked up the stairs as quickly as I could and fell backwards on my bed.
“Bloody hell,” I whispered. Then I laughed.
Chapter Eighteen
I never got to wrap Dad’s gifts in fancy paper, and we never got the tree that we’d said we would. We did, however, string some decorations around the yucca plant that had stood looking miserable in the corner of the living room for as long as I could remember.
Christmas morning was way better than I imagined it would be. I woke to the smell of bacon being grilled, carols playing on the radio, and Dad whistling along. I laughed when I joined him and saw him wearing plaid pyjama bottoms, a Christmas themed jumper that had seen better days, and a Santa hat. I hugged him, because I wanted to and because I wanted him to know I was okay.
We sat and ate our breakfast, planning our day. Unbeknown to me, Mrs. Hampton had invited herself for a drink later in the afternoon. I told Dad to call her and invite her for lunch. The old girl was on her own, and the thought of anyone spending that day alone saddened me. His smile was broad as he bustled off to the hallway.
I set about to prepare the vegetables and stuff the turkey. I turned the radio up and even Lucy seemed to get into the Christmas spirit with a couple of barks, as if singing along.
“She was thrilled. Said she’d be here in a half hour with wine,” Dad said when he returned to the kitchen.
“I think it’s nice that she wants to spend time with you.”
“Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“She does, and you want to spend time with her. It’s great, Dad.”
“It’s nice to have her company. I mean, I love spending time with you…”
I cut him off. “Dad, it’s fine. You’re allowed to have a companion,” I said.
“Well, before she gets here, I want to give you something.”
Dad left the room and I could hear the under stairs cupboard door open. He returned with a large package wrapped in brown paper.
“Oh, you didn’t have to,” I said, taking the package from him.
“It’s not much, because we said we weren’t going to bother but…Open it.”
I unwrapped to find a wooden plaque. Carved into the plaque were two words.
The Hayloft
I looked up at Dad. From behind his back he presented me with a small book.
“I did some research, on the interweb. The barn was known as The Hayloft and since you’ll need an address, I thought it might be nice to go back to that. I made a book of all the research I’d found.”
“You made a book?”
“I found a website thingy that made it for me. It was all quite easy really.”
I opened the book and read the dedication on the first page.
To my darling daughter,
This is your new home, and the start of your new life. A life that, I hope, will be filled with new adventures and new memories to carry you forward.
You’ll never forget your old life, but now is the time to let it all go and start afresh. I hope The Hayloft will help you do that.
I love you, Dani,
Dad xx
I quickly rubbed at a tear that had dripped to the page.
“Oh, Dad, it’s amazing, I love it. Thank you so much.”
He wrapped me in his arms and held me tight. “I’ve missed you, Dani. For the past year, I’ve missed the woman that I know, but I can see she’s on her way back, and I’ll forever be thankful for whoever, or whatever, has helped that to happen.”
“I don’t know what to say,” I said.
“Nothing, Dani. You don’t need to say anything. Just start living again.”
I placed the book on the table and picked up the plaque.
“It’s a piece of driftwood I found on the beach. I thought it was something that was lost and now it has a home,” Dad said. That made me tear up again.
“Where did you get it done?” I asked, running fingers over the intricate cursive letters.
“Miller carved it for me.”
“Did you know he’d been in prison?” I asked.
“Yes, I think it’s common knowledge, to be honest. Man’s paid his dues, there’s some who won’t hire him because of it. I think that’s bloody daft.”
“What did he go to prison for?”
“Fighting, stealing cars, and driving drunk, I think. Rumour has it, people paid him to collect debts and not in the way you see on the TV.”
“Crikey. Anyway, I have a couple of gifts for you, too.”
I’d left a small bag on the seat of one of the chairs.
“It’s not much but…”
Dad waved my sentence away and opened the perfume. For a while he was silent, but then he smiled.
“She always wore this, from our wedding day to the day she died. She’d say, ‘I can be wearing the scruffiest clothes, no makeup, and my hair a mass of tangles, but I feel like a beautiful woman with a dab of perfume behind my ears.’”
I could imagine my mum saying something like that.
“I know it seems silly, but I like to spray it on her pillow. It helps me remember her,” he added.
He placed the perfume on the table and opened the jumper.
“Just what I needed, thank you,” he said with a laugh.
“I think we should have a glass of something bubbly,” I said, heading for the fridge.
A knock on the front door meant I pulled three glasses from the cupboard.
“Happy Christmas,” I heard Mrs. Hampton call out, as she walked down the hallway.
I smiled as she came into the kitchen and handed her a glass of bubbly. “Happy Christmas, Mrs. Hampton,” I said.
As she took a sip of her Prosecco, she waved her hand in my direction. “Call me Colette,” she said.
We clinked glasses and while Dad and Colette made their way into the living room, I continued to prepare our lunch. Between basting the turkey and preparing the vegetables, I sent Christian a text message to wish him a happy day, he didn’t reply.
I had tried to call him first thing but the call had gone to his voicemail. I knew Dad had done the same. We didn’t know where he was staying, other than it was with a friend. Christian had many friends, most of whom I didn’t know.