her silence. He took another small mouthful of potato, forced it down. “Still, I’m sure he would be there for you, given a chance.”
“Is that what you call leaving it alone?” He held up his hands in surrender. “So, about Cornwall,” Alice said, changing the subject. “You want to go back to Porthsennen.”
He looked to Elizabeth with a smile. “It’s about time, after all these years sneaking down on my own, don’t you think? And part of me can’t believe that we never took you, love. Wouldn’t you like to see where I grew up?”
Alice smiled at that. “I see where this is going. I remember asking to go to Cornwall once and you said over your dead body.”
“Well, if we don’t go soon that might very well be the case.”
“Dad!” she shouted, and he looked sheepish enough to keep whatever retort that came to mind to himself.
“I’m sorry, love.” He reached for her hand and held it tight. “I know it’s a lot to ask, especially considering I’ve just told you to focus on your own life instead of mine, but it would be lovely to go there together. The old cottage where I was born is right on the seafront, thatched with a view of the little harbor. If we can make it up to the headland, you’ll even be able to see Wolf Rock.”
“The lighthouse?” She looked to the painting, at the lighthouse where her father had once worked.
“Yes.” Elizabeth could see how much the trip meant to him. How long had he been thinking about it? She thought of her cottage, the very cottage Tom had grown up in, and how it would feel to be there together again. If he didn’t go now, he might never go again, if the worst came to them. Alice must have seen it too, because her face softened in that moment. “I would really love to show you.”
Elizabeth watched the smile spread across their faces. It was a good plan, coming together. “I’ll drive us, but only if the doctor says it’s all right.”
“You’re a good girl, Bab,” he said, taking her hand in his. He held on tight and took a deep courageous breath, or at least as deep as his damaged lungs would allow. “Now, about Brian. We could call him together if you like.”
“A girl can change her mind, you know,” she said.
He didn’t suggest anything else.
* * *
At Tom’s request they put the television on and listened to a game show in the background while they ate the rest of their dinner. Tea steamed in mugs on the table, one of which remained largely untouched. Alice and Elizabeth sat back on the settee, Tom in his threadbare chair. After a time, he drifted off to sleep, his mouth open and eyes only half-closed.
“Is that it for the night?” Alice asked, nodding toward her father.
“Most likely,” Elizabeth told her. “He doesn’t have much energy, what with not eating his dinner. Sleeps ever such a lot.”
“He always fell asleep early, even when I was a kid.”
Elizabeth smiled. “It’s Porthsennen in his blood, love. He was up every morning at three or four, out fishing. Used to have bags under his eyes sometimes before it was even midday. Was always the most handsome man in the whole of Penwith, mind.”
Alice laughed, but stifled it so as not to wake her father. “Not the whole of Cornwall, then?”
“I have no idea,” Elizabeth said, smiling to herself. “I had never left Porthsennen.”
They were both quiet for a while, watching Tom as he slept. Elizabeth thought of their past, and the times they stole away together. Of later times when he was angry with her, and times after that when she feared she might never see him again. All those wishes he made, and the time they had wasted. There was one thing she could say about cancer, that it was a brilliant leveler. Nothing else seemed important right now.
Alice broke the silence. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course.”
“Do you think I should call Brian?”
Elizabeth turned down the volume on the television. “I can’t answer that, my love. Only you can know what the right thing is. I’ve never even met him.”
“But what would you do, if you were in my shoes?”
Elizabeth paused, thinking back to when she was younger, and all the stupid decisions she’d made. All the times she was weaker than she should have been or let herself believe a lie because it was simpler than the truth.