“When is the appointment?” Elizabeth looked up from her daydream to see Alice setting her phone aside.
“A week from Tuesday,” Elizabeth replied, getting to her feet.
“It seems like forever away.” Elizabeth was on uncharted ground; Alice wasn’t usually chatty like this. Her gaze fell somewhere beyond the window, in the garden. Elizabeth wondered which memory had caught Alice’s thoughts. “Another week of waiting feels like a year when it’s about cancer,” she eventually said.
Elizabeth didn’t want to say the wrong thing, so instead she motioned to the kitchen. While she was aware that they weren’t family, she wondered whether perhaps her presence could help facilitate some simple familial ministrations like a good meal shared together. Moments like that were important, especially now, and she knew how much she had missed Kate’s family coming over for Sunday lunch. “Would you like to stay for tea, love? I’ve made pork chops and roasted vegetables. There’s plenty, as your dad won’t eat much.”
Alice glanced at her phone. “I can’t. I’ve got work to finish for tomorrow, and still have loads to pack. If Dad’s going to sleep for the rest of the night I might as well get going.”
“You just sit right where you are.” Neither of them had heard him creeping down the stairs. On the 1960s carpet his footsteps were almost silent.
“Dad,” Alice said as she stood up and moved toward him, supporting his arm, even though he didn’t seem to need it. “How are you feeling?”
“Bloody marvelous, Bab,” he said, and they all detected the irritation in his voice. Bab was his nickname for his daughter, had been since she was two years old. He was grumpy and short-tempered in a way he wasn’t usually. Elizabeth had read that sometimes cancer could have that effect, start to change a person’s mood or manner. Alice helped him settle at the table, and because Elizabeth didn’t quite know what else to do, she went to the kitchen and pulled out another place mat and plate, then pulled a stout from the fridge and emptied it into a glass with a slim head, just the way Tom liked it.
“Now,” Tom said as she returned to the table, “while I’ve got you both here, I want to tell you that I’ve been doing some thinking.” His hands were placed flat against the table, but still Elizabeth could tell they were shaking. “I want to go and see the place I grew up just one more time.”
Elizabeth thought of her basket of wishes upstairs, and all those they might be able to fulfill together if they were in Porthsennen again. How she would love that.
“What?” asked Alice. “Don’t you think it’s a bit far for you at the moment? You’ll wear yourself out.”
“You’re a fine one to talk,” he said. “Running back and forth like this, coming here every spare moment and working every other. You’re the one who’ll wear herself out.” Tom took a small mouthful of potato, but from the look he gave the plate afterward it must have made him feel sick, and he pushed the rest away.
“Don’t you want me to come here?” Alice asked.
“Of course I do, but not at the expense of your own life. What about Brian? Have you even spoken to him about all this yet?”
Elizabeth noticed Alice set her jaw as she turned to face her father. “I haven’t seen him, spoken to him, or thought about him. At least not until you brought it up. We’re not together anymore, Dad.” The plate clattered as she pushed it away. Elizabeth had served her some food regardless of the fact that she said she wouldn’t stay. “You just have to get used to that. And as for coming here, I want to be here with you,” she said, stealing a glance at Elizabeth, “so stop worrying about me.”
“Well, I do worry. You’ve got your own life to live.”
“Don’t you think you’re more important than anything else right now?”
He shook his head. “One day you’ll understand what I’m telling you, my love. I don’t want you to look back in another fifty years and say you could have done it differently. I’d never change having you, but there are plenty of other things I should have done better.” Her face softened at that, just the reminder that his concern came from a place filled with good intentions. “Does he still call, at least?”