The Accidental Life of Greg Millar (28 page)

I squint at her. She
notice
d
?

‘Your father and I had a long chat when you were in France.
I kn
ow you don’t come to see us much at the best of times, but when you were away and didn’t call, I got a bit down. It made me face up to the way things are between us. I talked to Dad about it.’

Wow.

‘I’m one of life’s worriers, Lucy. When it comes to my children, especially. The minute you tell me something, I’m worrying about the implications. And, instead of keeping all those useless fears to myself, I blurt them out. I’m trying to be helpful. But all I’m doing is interfering. In trying to protect you, I’m telling you how to live your life. And I’m sorry. I
have
been “working on it”, as he’d say himself. I don’t know if you’ve noticed?’ She looks hopeful.

I don’t tell her that I’ve noticed little outside of Greg and the children, lately. What I do say is, ‘All I could ever see was what you were doing wrong. Never what you were doing right. And never the effort you put in – or the worry. I guess I just wanted to say I appreciate it now, if that’s any comfort.’

‘It is, Lucy. It is.’

We’re holding hands across the table when Dad peeps into the kitchen. ‘Crisis over?’

‘No crisis,’ says Mum, smiling at me.

There is affection in her eyes. Maybe it was there all along and I was too stubborn to notice.

‘Good,’ says Dad. ‘Any more of that rhubarb tart left?’

‘Something arrived for you,’ says Rob as soon as I get back.

Submerged in water, in the kitchen sink, is an enormous bouquet of sunflowers. I look at him.

‘There’s a card with them.’ I can tell he’s curious.

I open it. And smile. Fint, offering his services in whatever way he can.

‘Secret admirer?’

‘No. Just a very good friend.’

29.

R
achel won’t do anything for me. Neither will she go anywhere. Until
I suggest visiting Jason and Shane.
That
she’ll do. And s
o, we go.

‘Hi, guys,’ says Grace. ‘What a lovely surprise!’ And as Rachel and Toby troop in, she warns me, ‘Dad’s here.’

‘What? His car isn’t outside!’

‘Mum went shopping in it.’

‘Rachel! Toby!’ I call, but they’ve already disappeared.

Grace grimaces. ‘It
should
be OK. Dad’s busy fixing the Hoover.’

‘We won’t stay long.’

We find Dad kneeling on the floor in the dining room, surrounded by bits of Grace’s Hoover, a strip of black grease running down his nose. And Rachel standing over him.

‘Hi, Dad!’ I say brightly. ‘We won’t disturb you.’ I widen my eyes at Rachel to get her to come.

She looks back defiantly, then turns to Dad. ‘Would you like a hand?’

Crap.

‘You know, that’d be great. I love a bit of company when I’m working. Lucy used to be my helper when she was little.’

She ignores that.

‘Right, then. Hand me that screwdriver over there. The one with the red handle.’

Like a shot, she obliges.

Toby starts to look interested, so I offer him a drink.

I close the dining room door behind us, thinking
Holy Mother of God.

In the kitchen, Jason’s busy gnawing on building blocks. Toby finds a truck and begins to race Shane, who has a Ferrari. It’s good to see him just play, with no one to smother him. Grace makes
coffee
and the two of us sit at the table, keeping an eye on the boys. I ask her what she and Kevin are doing to the kitchen cupboards. Work seems to be in progress.

She lowers her voice. ‘Don’t talk to me about those bloody cupboards. If I hear the words “Preparation is nine-tenths of the law” one more time, I’ll scream.’

‘Isn’t it “
Possession
is nine-tenths of the law”?’

‘Is it?’ She bursts out laughing. ‘That’s the best news I’ve had all day.’

I smile. ‘What are you doing, painting over them?’

‘Oooh no, not just painting. That would be sloppy. First, we’re sanding them down, then we’re going to paint them. Sorry,
I’m
goin
g t
o paint them. Kevin will project manage the job, supervise the entire operation. Give me practical little tips. Honest to God
, ther
e ar
e times when I could throttle him. D’you know what I spent the morning doing? In between feeding and changing children, th
at is?’

‘No.’

‘Filling in holes and irregularities in the woodwork. I told him that it’s wood, it’s supposed to have irregularities, and d’you know what he said? There’s other people’s wood and there’s our wood.’

I smile. To me, that sounds like such a simple, straightforward argument. No one being accused of not loving, not caring,
deserting
.

‘If I suddenly jump up and start filling in the children’s chicken pox marks with stopping, you’ll know I’ve finally flipped.’

‘What’s stopping?’

‘You don’t know what stopping is?’ she says in mock horror. ‘Lucy, you haven’t
lived
. You use it on wood instead of Polyfilla. It’s
fantastic
. I’ll have to get you some.’

I smile. ‘Apart from the cupboards, though, how’s it going?’

She sighs. ‘I don’t know. I’m trying, Lucy. Really I am.’

‘Maybe it mightn’t be the best time for DIY. Maybe you should just get out of the house, have fun together.’

‘Kevin?
Fun?
’ She sighs. ‘Anyway, forget the perfectionist, how are you?’

‘Freezing.’ I run my hands up and down my arms. ‘You don’t have a jumper I could borrow, do you?’

Grace disappears and returns with a hoodie and socks. I’m especially thrilled with the socks. They’re so snug and homely. I start to get teary. I know she’s going to talk about it, so I stop her before she does.

After coffee, she shoos me away.

‘Go on. Show your face at the office. They’ll be fine here.’

‘They’ll be happier here. But what about you?’

‘Lucy, you’re doing me a favour. Shane and Jason are occupied. And when Rachel’s finished in there, she’ll take over. Honestly, go. It’s easier for me with them here.’

I hope that Dad will work in his usual way – in silence – and that my mother will be back shortly to collect him.

Fint and I hug, everything forgotten without a word. He cancels his afternoon and takes me through all that’s been happening – staff issues, proposals they’ve been putting together, current clients. We troubleshoot, brainstorm. Work. It feels good to be listened to, my opinion counting for something, to feel the adrenalin of an office environment, to be reminded that I have a brain. I leave with two not so major jobs to get working on. Grace was right, I needed another focus.

I collect the children and bring them home. They watch a video while I tackle the mess. I’m collecting a pile of laundry when I feel someone behind me.

It’s Rachel.

I brace myself for a complaint, an unreasonable request – a problem, basically.

‘You’ve a nice dad,’ she says, almost shyly.

I remain cautious. ‘Did you have a good time?’

She nods. ‘I like helping out.’

‘Good.’

‘I used to help my dad all the time . . . Before.’

I straighten up, surprised that we’re still having – I’m still not sure – our first proper conversation?

‘Do you think your dad would ever need a hand with anythin
g else?’

I hide my surprise. ‘I’m sure he would, Rachel.’

‘Can you ask him?’

‘Yes, of course.’

‘Thanks.’ And then she’s gone.

Later, when they’re asleep, I call Dad. ‘You were a big hit, today.’

‘Ah, she’s a little dote.’

Strange. Though she’s a child, I’ve never seen Rachel as little. And
never
‘a dote’.

‘She reminds me of you.’

‘She’s not a bit like me.’

‘No?’

‘No.’

‘She’s very quiet,’ he says.

I say nothing, which I realise, too late, probably proves his point.

‘Angry,’ he says.

‘You can say that again.’

‘I used to know a little girl like that.’

Listen to the psychologist. ‘If you’re talking about me, you’re wrong.’

‘Your mother didn’t make you angry?’

I’m not going to admit to anything.

‘And your sister?’

‘Wrong. I was never angry with Grace.’
I might have been
jealous
. 
. .

‘What did you call her, again? Little Miss Perfect? Don’t tell me you weren’t the teensiest bit angry?’

‘Guess who’s making me angry now? Anyway, I just called to say thanks. You seemed to cheer her up.’

‘That’s all right, love. I enjoyed her company. As I always did yours . . . My little helper.’ Why does that make me feel weepy? ‘You know, maybe you should think about letting her help around the house.’

‘She’d never do anything for me.’

‘Let her think it’s her idea.’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, why don’t you let her come over here some afternoon? I’ll think of something she can help me out with. And you could probably do with a break from each other.’

‘Probably.’

‘That settles it, then. And sure, bring the little fellow as well. Toby. Your mother took a big shine to him.’

Can I risk it? Maybe I’ve no choice. This is something Rachel very clearly needs.

The following morning, my phone rings.

‘Is that Lucy?’

‘Ben.’ I close my eyes; I forgot to tell them we were home.

‘I got your number from Hilary. I’ve been ringing the villa for days. I’ve been trying Greg’s number . . .’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Ben, I think it needs recharging.’

‘Why haven’t you been contactable? We’ve been so worried. We were going to fly over when Hilary gave us your number.’

Hearing Hilary’s name has the same effect as always. It’s like receiving bad news. ‘Ben. We’re home.’

‘You’re home? In Ireland?’

‘Yes. I’m sorry we haven’t got around to calling you. Things have been a bit hectic.’

‘How long have you been back?’

‘A few days.’ Over a week.

‘And you didn’t think to let us know our grandchildren were in the country? We do have a right to know where they are, Lucy.’

‘I realise that,’ I say, struggling to remain calm. Why is he talking about rights?

‘What are you doing back? Was there a problem?’

‘Yes.’ I’ve worked it out. ‘The heat. It was too hot for the
children
.’

‘Ah, yes. As a matter of fact, I’m surprised you didn’t come home sooner.’

‘Well, we’re back now.’

‘Is Greg there?’

‘Not at the moment.’

‘Why is he never available when I call? Is something going on, something I should know about?’

‘Ben, nothing is, as you put it, going on. You can see your grandchildren any time. I’m sorry you had a problem getting through, but everything’s fine. We’re just settling back in.’

‘We’d like to see the children.’

‘Of course.’
Shit.

‘Maybe you could drop them to us?’

What am I, his personal slave? ‘When would suit?’

‘Next Saturday?’

God.
‘What time?’

‘Three?’

‘Fine. Rachel will be able to show me where you live, I’m sure.’

He gives me the address anyway. Just in case.

I have five days to figure out what to do.