now.’
‘Did it have your address in it?’
‘Yup.’ Sophie and her mother’s minds clearly worked in the same way.
‘Then I’m sure it’ll turn up. Listen, darling, the reason I’m calling—’
‘I can’t believe I’ve lost it. Everything was in there…and if it gets into the wrong hands…’
‘Darling…’ Helen was becoming increasingly exasperated. Sam had always been capable of incredible focus and self-centredness. Only-child syndrome. ‘I know it’s important to you, but it’s not like you’re Geri Halliwell or Prince William.’
Sam smiled despite herself. Only a devout Daily Mail reader could put those two in the same sentence.
‘No one knows who you are and no one really cares—except us, of course.’
‘It’s not just me I’m worrying about—’
‘Excuse me, madam, but are you going to be much longer? There’s a queue out here.’
‘Sorry—just give me one more minute. Mum, I promise I’ll call you back.’
‘Listen, your father’s in hospital.’
Sam was silent as her emotions jostled for supremacy.
‘I’m afraid it’s serious. He’s got a tumour in his liver and apparently it’s a secondary one. They’re going to operate on Monday, and then hopefully start chemotherapy, but apparently it’s large enough to suggest it has probably already spread further. It seems to be a case of damage limitation rather than cure.’
Her mother must have spoken to a doctor. Either that or she had been to med school since their elderly neighbour had gone through breast cancer when she had explained everything in terms of zapping and lumps.
‘They’re running all sorts of tests, and he says he’s been scanned to within an inch of his life. They’re still trying to ascertain the primary site.’
‘Right.’
‘He’s at the Royal Marsden. It’s one of the best places he could possibly—’
‘I’m incredibly busy at the moment.’ Clearly denial had beaten the others hands down in the battle of her emotions.
‘I know it’s been a long time, but you just don’t know… I mean at the moment they don’t even know…’
‘So now I’m supposed to sit at his bedside?’
‘Don’t be so stubborn. You remind me of him when you’re like this.’ Her mother pretty much had a doctorate in emotional blackmail. ‘I went to visit yesterday. He’s in there all by himself.’
‘What about his teenage girlfriend? Isn’t this her remit?’
Sophie glared at the fitting room assistant as she approached Sam’s cubicle, where she was now standing guard, protecting what little privacy Sam still had.
‘Honestly, darling, Susie must be in her forties now. It’s been a long time. You can’t have seen him in at least five years…’
‘More like ten.’
‘I know it’s a shock…’ Sam could hear her mother’s voice faltering as she battled with tears.
It didn’t take much to set her off at the best of times: an Andrex puppy, a wedding on television, Sam getting into Oxford, Sam leaving Oxford, Sam finishing law school. So, by rights, an ex-husband with cancer should have had her in floods. She was obviously focused on being strong for Sam’s sake. And Sam was quite happy not to have to support her mother on this one.
‘Simon is more of a father to me than Dad ever was.’
‘Simon’s not going anywhere. You know how much he loves you. But the fact is Robert is still your dad. I’m sure it would mean a lot to him if you just popped in.’
‘I don’t know how you can be so nice about it. We were there for him. And then he left us.’
‘He left me. Twenty-three years ago…’
Sam could still feel the weight of the silence after the front door slammed. Still remember the sun coming through the sitting room window. The dust particles swirling around her. The smell of the warm musty air. The pattern on her white knee-length socks. The sound of his car starting and driving off. For a fraction of a second she was a six-year-old trapped in a twenty-nine-year-old body.
‘It wasn’t meant to be. I married again. I learned to let go. And you need to. Because of you we’ve always kept in touch. And he does love you.’
‘Well, he’s got a funny way of showing it.’ Sam knew she didn’t have the monopoly on divorced parents. Almost everyone she knew had gone through the parents-living-at-separate-addresses thing. But, selfishly, all she’d wanted was a nuclear family. And maybe a brother or sister. And maybe a dad at home for a little bit longer than six years. It wasn’t that she hadn’t got on with her life. She couldn’t have been working any harder…
‘You’re the one who won’t see him.’
‘He can’t just expect to have a daughter at his beck and call when it suits him.’
He’d never taken her to the zoo. She didn’t even really agree with zoos any more. But she didn’t have any of those memories. No trips to theme parks or burger bars, no camping holidays—not that these were necessarily indices of good parenting, but it would have at least showed willing. Everyone knew children were the worst sort of investment plan. At least eighteen years to mature and no sign of the capital invested. Not much appreciation either. No good for impatient people. Simon, though, had unquestioningly done it all. Sam wondered if she had thanked him enough.
‘We managed perfectly well without him.’
‘Exactly.’
‘And you know if we’d stayed together none of us would have been happy.’
Deep down she did. And maybe if they hadn’t had her they’d still be together. He hadn’t exactly made a secret of the fact that he’d never really wanted children in the first place.
‘Sam, sweetheart, you don’t have to be all brave about this. I’ll come with you, if you like.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous. Next you’ll be suggesting I bake him some biscuits.’
‘There’s no point taking it out on me. I didn’t want him to leave either.’
‘I know. And I’m sorry, but I’m not going.’
‘Please? Think about it… He’s in Room 136. Maybe just call him…’
‘I’ve really got to go now, or it’ll be death by coat hanger for me.’
‘You’re bound to need a bit of time to let all this sink in. Love you, darling. I’ll call again later.’
‘Bye.’
Sam sat down and stared at the floor, seeing nothing. There was a tentative knock at the changing room door.
‘Can I come in?’
‘Give me a minute.’
Sophie gave her twenty seconds.
‘Come on, you, let’s get out of here. I need a coffee. A diet coffee, obviously.’
Sam regrouped and pulled on her pale blue v-neck, shopping forgotten. ‘I’m ready.’
‘It’s Okay, love.’ Sophie shifted her weight from foot to foot apologetically. ‘To be honest—’ she gestured at the saloon-style swing doors ‘—these changing rooms aren’t exactly soundproof.’
Sure