She was looking up at him like he was some kind of all-conquering hero. Her face, when she turned to me, told me I should do the same. It could contain a million messages, my mother’s face, and this one told me Dad should be allowed his moment.
‘That’s great, Dad. Really.’ I stepped forward and gave him a hug.
‘Well, it’s really Heather you should thank. What a smashing bloke. I’m just b****y grateful that he thought of me.’
I listened to them leave the house, the sound of Mum fussing in the hall mirror, Dad’s repeated reassurances that she looked lovely, that she was just fine as she was. I heard him patting his pockets for keys, wallet, loose change, followed by a brief burst of laughter. And then the door slammed, I heard the hum of the car pulling away and then there was just the di
