many times, and each time I'd said, 'Your dad died, love. Just one of those sad things.' Then I always moved the conversation swiftly on to what Rose's dad was doing in heaven. That usually took Rose's mind off the how and why. It was . . . an evasion, for my daughter's sake.
But not today.
Quickly rinsing off my hands, I wiped them in the hand towel hanging up beside the sink. I squatted down until Rose's face was level with mine and brushed away the tears spilling down her cheeks.
'Rose, don't cry,' I said softly. 'Your daddy's death was . . . an accident, that's all. A tragic accident.'
'Was he in a car accident like Sam's dad?' Rose asked.
'Something like that.' I stroked Rose's hair, then kissed her forehead. 'But all you need to remember is that your daddy loved you very much.'
'But he didn't get to meet me. How can you love someone you don't know?'
I smiled again. Rose smiled back. I love it when she smiles at me like that. But memories made the smile inside wither away.
'Your daddy loved you when you were still growing inside me. Your daddy even loved the idea of you.'
'I don't understand.'
'Your dad was very happy when he found out I was pregnant with you. He wrote me a letter to tell me so,' I said carefully. No more lies. Just the careful truth. 'If I remember rightly, he said he was ecstatic'
'What does that mean – eggs static?'
'Ecstatic. It means over the moon, thrilled, deliriously happy, overjoyed, elated, in raptures—'
'Yeah, I get the idea,' Rose said quickly before I could go through the whole thesaurus.
'Besides, you don't have to be with someone day in, day out to love them, Rose,' I told her.
I could see Rose had to think about that.
'I guess that's true,' said Rose at last. "Cause I love Grandad Kamal and I've never met him.'
And just for a moment, my heartbeat stilled. Just for a moment.
'Can I see the letter that Daddy wrote to you about me?' asked Rose.
'I threw it away years ago,' I said.
Just a tiny lie . . . No harm in a tiny lie.
'That's a shame. I wish I'd met my dad. Not when I was a baby but when I was older – just once so I could remember him.' Rose sighed.
'So do I,' I said. 'You two would've been very good friends.'
'Am I like him then?'
Oh, Rose. Are you like Callum? How do I even begin to answer that?
I could feel my expression twist painfully to reflect what was happening to my insides.
Don't let Rosie see, Persephone. Don't let her know.
'You have the same smile, the same shaped eyes, the same way of tilting your head to listen, the same stubborn streak, the same common sense. Lots of things about you and him are the same.' I forced another smile, feeling that my face was going to crack at any second.
'Tell me some more about him.'
'Why?'
"Cause I've been thinking about Daddy a lot recently.'
'Funny . . . so have I,' I admitted. 'Well, your father stood up for what he believed was right. And he was a man who loved his family. He was very loyal to the ones he loved. Very loyal.'
'What does loyal mean?'
'Faithful, devoted, will stick by you, dedicated—'
'Yeah, I get the idea, Mummy. Did you love my dad?'
Some kind of bird was singing outside. I wondered what its song meant – if it meant anything at all.
'I don't mind you being soppy,' Rose teased when I didn't immediately answer.
'Yes,' I said. 'Very much.'
'Did Daddy love you?'
Oh God . . .
'He used to, before he died,' I managed to reply.
'Well of course it was before he died,' said Rose, unimpressed. 'He can't love you after he's dead, can he? Silly!'
'I don't know.' I kissed Rose on the nose. 'Maybe love lives on, even after death. Maybe it's the only thing that does.'
'So I'm really like him?' Rose asked again, just to make sure.
'Oh yes.' I nodded.
'That makes me feel a bit better. If I'm lots like Dad then it's almost as if I know him – or at least part of him. That's better than not being anything like him at all. Can I go out on my bike?'
The abrupt change of subject threw
But not today.
Quickly rinsing off my hands, I wiped them in the hand towel hanging up beside the sink. I squatted down until Rose's face was level with mine and brushed away the tears spilling down her cheeks.
'Rose, don't cry,' I said softly. 'Your daddy's death was . . . an accident, that's all. A tragic accident.'
'Was he in a car accident like Sam's dad?' Rose asked.
'Something like that.' I stroked Rose's hair, then kissed her forehead. 'But all you need to remember is that your daddy loved you very much.'
'But he didn't get to meet me. How can you love someone you don't know?'
I smiled again. Rose smiled back. I love it when she smiles at me like that. But memories made the smile inside wither away.
'Your daddy loved you when you were still growing inside me. Your daddy even loved the idea of you.'
'I don't understand.'
'Your dad was very happy when he found out I was pregnant with you. He wrote me a letter to tell me so,' I said carefully. No more lies. Just the careful truth. 'If I remember rightly, he said he was ecstatic'
'What does that mean – eggs static?'
'Ecstatic. It means over the moon, thrilled, deliriously happy, overjoyed, elated, in raptures—'
'Yeah, I get the idea,' Rose said quickly before I could go through the whole thesaurus.
'Besides, you don't have to be with someone day in, day out to love them, Rose,' I told her.
I could see Rose had to think about that.
'I guess that's true,' said Rose at last. "Cause I love Grandad Kamal and I've never met him.'
And just for a moment, my heartbeat stilled. Just for a moment.
'Can I see the letter that Daddy wrote to you about me?' asked Rose.
'I threw it away years ago,' I said.
Just a tiny lie . . . No harm in a tiny lie.
'That's a shame. I wish I'd met my dad. Not when I was a baby but when I was older – just once so I could remember him.' Rose sighed.
'So do I,' I said. 'You two would've been very good friends.'
'Am I like him then?'
Oh, Rose. Are you like Callum? How do I even begin to answer that?
I could feel my expression twist painfully to reflect what was happening to my insides.
Don't let Rosie see, Persephone. Don't let her know.
'You have the same smile, the same shaped eyes, the same way of tilting your head to listen, the same stubborn streak, the same common sense. Lots of things about you and him are the same.' I forced another smile, feeling that my face was going to crack at any second.
'Tell me some more about him.'
'Why?'
"Cause I've been thinking about Daddy a lot recently.'
'Funny . . . so have I,' I admitted. 'Well, your father stood up for what he believed was right. And he was a man who loved his family. He was very loyal to the ones he loved. Very loyal.'
'What does loyal mean?'
'Faithful, devoted, will stick by you, dedicated—'
'Yeah, I get the idea, Mummy. Did you love my dad?'
Some kind of bird was singing outside. I wondered what its song meant – if it meant anything at all.
'I don't mind you being soppy,' Rose teased when I didn't immediately answer.
'Yes,' I said. 'Very much.'
'Did Daddy love you?'
Oh God . . .
'He used to, before he died,' I managed to reply.
'Well of course it was before he died,' said Rose, unimpressed. 'He can't love you after he's dead, can he? Silly!'
'I don't know.' I kissed Rose on the nose. 'Maybe love lives on, even after death. Maybe it's the only thing that does.'
'So I'm really like him?' Rose asked again, just to make sure.
'Oh yes.' I nodded.
'That makes me feel a bit better. If I'm lots like Dad then it's almost as if I know him – or at least part of him. That's better than not being anything like him at all. Can I go out on my bike?'
The abrupt change of subject threw
Similar Books
