‘I was in the garden, filling that cream enamel colander with sprouts for Christmas dinner. I remember a chip near the handle. It would go rusty there and I’d have to give your mum the money for a new one.’ He shook his head, staring through the table top into the past. ‘Money-wise, that year was difficult with me being laid off from the docks. Yer mum refused to skimp on Christmas. “I’ll go without all year, Gordon, but Christmas is Christmas, so don’t make me call you Scrooge in December, dear,” she’d warned me.’ He dropped his head into his hands and hauled in a great breath. ‘God, how I miss her!’

Shelly’s heart ached. She reached for the kitchen roll, tore off a couple of squares and pushed them into his fist. He dried his face and stared at the table for a long time.

‘It’s all my fault, because—’ His tears gathered again. ‘You see, what you don’t know is – what I’ve always been too ashamed to tell you is – your mum came down the garden and asked me for the taxi money. She was running late and the buses might have been on Sunday service, with it being Christmas Eve. And the thing is . . . the thing is . . . I refused. It was me, you see, that told her to get the bus. Too bloody mean to give her five pounds for a taxi, but what was the real cost? I’ll never forgive myself—’ He squeezed the tissues tightly and punched the table so hard, Shelly feared he might have broken something.

‘Dad, stop! It wasn’t your fault, or my fault, or even the boy’s fault. If we’re going to heal, we have to stop looking to blame. I just want the hurt to stop. It’s not fair; and it will never be fair no matter how hard we try. I want to help you, but I have other demons to deal with, remember?’

Gordon’s mouth turned down. ‘I might not talk about it, Shelly love, but I haven’t forgotten what happened after your mother’s death. I just want to say one more thing tonight.’ He looked up, straight into her eyes. ‘I am truly sorry, Shelly. Perhaps I made a mistake, but it was with the best of intentions. I couldn’t see any other solution.’

Shelly dropped her head into her hands and gave up trying to hold on to her composure. Eventually, she got up, wrapped her arms around her father, and kissed his wet cheek. ‘Thanks, Dad, that meant a lot to me. I’m going to bed. Don’t stay up too long. Night, now.’

*

Although emotionally exhausted, Shelly went back to bed feeling lighter than she had for years.