Our Father Who Are Out There...Somewhere by AJ Taft Page A

He’s just had the Salvation Army on his case.”
    “What about if we said we were doing some market research? We could ask him if he’s got any children…”
    “He doesn’t want me to find him, remember?” Lily looks up at Jo for the first time since they arrived at the pub. “He’s hardly going to say, ‘oh yes, I’ve got a nineteen-year- old daughter I abandoned at birth.’ Is he?”
    “Well, there’s only one thing for it then. We’ll have to go and see for ourselves. We’ve got a photo.”
    “It’s twenty years old.”
    “So what? We’ll still be able to tell if it’s him. We’ll just have to camp outside his house. We could do with a car.” Jo takes a drink and then almost chokes. “I can get us a car. I’ll borrow our Ste’s, my brother’s. He never uses it; it’s rusting on my mum’s drive. She’ll be well pleased to get rid of it.”
    “What about poly, Jo?”
    “What about it? It’s hardly rocket science. We break up in a few weeks anyway. I told them you needed some compassionate leave. I talked to Wardle, he said fine, so long as we promise to get the lecture notes copied up. Oh and he gave me a couple of essay titles we have to hand in by January. I’m sure we’ll both be able to catch up.” She emphasizes the both. Lily looks uncertain. “We’re both going back, Lily. We’ll get this sorted out and then we’re both going back, to continue our fabulous education and then get on with our fabulous lives.”
    Lily wishes she had Jo’s optimism. She has a sense of foreboding that she can’t shake.
     
    The bus to Manchester arrives half an hour late, and they almost miss their connection to Liverpool. Lily sprints down the bus station with Jo lagging behind, and just manages to catch the driver’s attention. From Liverpool they catch another bus to Kirby where Jo’s mother lives on a housing estate, one of those Barratt ones Lily’s seen advertised on television, the one where the helicopter flies in.
    A Mini is parked on the drive. It has a white roof and red sides. “What do you reckon?” asks Jo. “Thank God he stopped short of painting a Union Jack on the bonnet.”
    Jo’s mother opens the door, dressed in a pale blue, velour tracksuit. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I’ve got nothing in for tea. Why can’t you ring like normal people?” She mock cuffs Jo round the back of the head and smiles at Lily. “I don’t know what your friend’s going to think of me, and look at the state of you,” she says, drawing Jo in for a hug. “When are you going to get your hair cut? You look like no one cares for you. Oh it’s so good to see you.” Lily looks at the floor as Jo hugs her mother again.
    “You must be Lily.” Jo’s mother puts her hand on Lily’s shoulder. “I’m Wendy. I’ve heard so much about you. How are you doing? I’m very sorry about your mum. How was the funeral?”
    “Fine. Could I use your toilet?”
    “Upstairs, first on the left.”
    When Lily comes back downstairs, Jo and Wendy are in the kitchen. They both stop talking as Lily enters the room. “Anyway,” says Jo looking at Lily, “we’re not stopping. We just want to borrow the Mini for a few days. Our Ste won’t mind. Well,” she corrects herself, “he won’t know. We’ll have it back by the weekend.”
    “Oh take it away for good, can’t you?  He hasn’t mentioned it in weeks. He’s all caught up in this new woman.” Wendy raises her eyebrows skywards. “I don’t think they’ve got out of bed since he met her. If you can get it started, it’s yours. Now, come on,” she claps her hands, “Let’s open a bottle of wine. Lily, if you can get the corkscrew from that drawer over there, Jo can get on with finding us some glasses, and I’ll go and see what I’ve got in the freezer.”
    They sit together at a table in the kitchen eating homemade fisherman’s pie. Lily has never tasted such deliciousness. She forks in mouthfuls, while Jo and Wendy gabble