18. Sophie

Balancing a casserole dish on my left arm, I pulled out my keys and let myself into the house.

‘Dad?’ I called.

I could hear music coming from the kitchen. Mozart, Dad’s favourite. It reminded me of being a kid, sitting at the table while Dad cooked us breakfast on a Sunday. Sunday morning was Mum’s time off. She would lie in bed reading novels. The music brought me right back. Happy memories.

I’d been lucky. I’d had a lovely childhood with two parents who loved each other and stayed together through thick and thin. I’d wanted that for Jess, and I felt so guilty that I hadn’t provided it. Instead, she’d weathered lots of upheaval with me and Jack falling apart and separating, then getting back together, and Jack bringing a half-brother for Jess into the mix. It was messy and I felt bad about it. Some days I felt I was a decent enough parent, others that I was failing miserably and Jess would pay the price.

At least the Sebastian fling appeared to have cooled off. Jess was being really moody and grumpy lately, and she wouldn’t talk to me about it, but she was on her phone much less and hadn’t asked to go out since the rugby party. I was hoping that meant they had broken up. Julie had told me she’d had a word with Jess after Sebastian had been obnoxious to some people at the party, and Jess had told her she was done with him. Hallelujah! I knew he’d eventually reveal himself to be as nasty as his mother. Thank God it had happened sooner rather than later. I was so grateful to Julie for pointing it out and getting through to Jess. I owed my sister, big-time.

As I pushed open the kitchen door, I heard Dad laughing and then a very female giggle. I walked in and stopped dead. The kitchen lights were on low and the table was set with candles and Mum’s best china – the set she used only on Christmas Day. Sitting opposite Dad was Dolores, in Mum’s chair.

Dad jumped up when he saw me. ‘Sophie … I didn’t … I …’ he stuttered.

‘I called, but obviously you couldn’t hear with the music and the giggling.’ I tried to keep my voice calm, but I felt shocked to my core.

‘Hello, Sophie, nice to see you again,’ the shameless Dolores said, as composed as you like.

I hated that her fat arse was in my mum’s chair. I wanted to push her off it. One part of my brain knew I was reacting too intensely, but this was my mum’s home, her house, her kitchen, and I was struggling with the feelings that were crowding around me.

‘I brought you dinner, Dad, but it looks like you don’t need it.’

Looking sheepish Dad said, ‘You’re so good, thanks, pet. Dolores just popped over with a stew.’

‘Beef bourguignon, George.’

‘Yes, yes, a beef bourguignon.’

‘I know it’s your dad’s favourite.’ She grinned like a Cheshire cat.

Her wrap dress was too low at the front and revealed far too much cleavage. Wrinkly old cleavage that shouldn’t be on show. Her helmet hair was welded into place with cans of hairspray and her lipstick was a bright pink that clashed with her purple dress.

‘Actually, Dolores, Dad’s favourite meal is my mum’s steak with Béarnaise sauce. Isn’t it, Dad?’ I dared him to disagree with me.

He looked panic-stricken. ‘Will you have a glass of wine?’ He dodged the question and I felt even more furious.

‘Oh, I’m sure Sophie’s far too busy for that,’ Dolores said.

She could go to Hell.

I took my coat off, hung it on the back of a chair and sat down. ‘I’d love one. I’ve all the time in the world.’ I beamed at Dolores, who smiled sourly at me.

‘This music reminds me of old times, Dad,’ I said, as I sipped my wine. ‘Happy times as a family here. You and Mum were such a brilliant match. Peas in a pod. Soul-mates.’

Dad took a gulp of wine.

‘Wasn’t the charity golf day out great fun, George?’ Dolores interrupted.

I talked over her. ‘A love like you and Mum had is a once-in-a-lifetime thing. We all aspire to have a relationship like yours. I was just thinking as I came through the door that I wished I’d provided Jess with as solid, loving and stable a home as you and Mum created here, together. I think Julie and Harry are probably closest to achieving it, but even they’re not in your league.’

Dad looked at me and I eyeballed him right back. I was only speaking the truth.

‘Life goes on, though,’ Dolores said briskly. ‘When my David passed I was heartbroken, but I picked myself up and got on with things. We have to keep living and having fun. People are not made to be alone. We all crave company and I believe in second chances, don’t you, George?’

According to Mum, David had died of exhaustion from trying to keep Dolores happy. Mum always said she was a ‘piece of work’ and, boy, was I witnessing it now. I felt it would be monumentally disloyal to Mum not to run this woman out of her house. I was going to make damn sure that Louise agreed to bring Dad to Italy. We had to get him away from Dolores and talk to him about making good choices.

‘True love can never be replicated,’ I said firmly.

‘Love comes in different forms,’ Dolores shot back. ‘Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we’re not capable or deserving of love and happiness.’

‘Yes, but –’ I was about to deliver Dolores a death-blow when my phone buzzed, then Dad’s.

I looked at the screen. Message from Gavin: D-day. Shania in labour. On way to hospital. Come quickly!!!!!!

Dad and I looked at each other.

‘Gavin’s panicking,’ I said. ‘He needs us.’

‘Oh, George, another grandchild and your son’s heir. How exciting.’

‘We’d better go.’ Dad stood up, his attention firmly on our family again. Good.

‘No need to panic, George.’ Dolores laughed. ‘She’ll probably be in labour for hours, or even days. They’ll be tripping over you. Sure there’s nothing you can do anyway.’

‘I suppose I am a bit useless,’ Dad said. ‘You’re right, I’d probably only be in the way.’ He sat down again.

‘No, you wouldn’t,’ I said. ‘You’re our dad. We want you there at big moments. Gavin needs you. He doesn’t have Mum so he needs us all to rally. Come on, Dad. Family is everything and we must support each other.’

‘Why don’t you go ahead, Sophie, and call George when she’s in full labour?’ Dolores was not letting go.

I stood up, walked over to the coat rack, grabbed Dolores’s coat, marched over and handed it to her. ‘We are going to the hospital, to be with our family on this big day. Goodnight, Dolores.’

She turned to Dad, who looked at the floor and muttered, ‘Sorry.’ While he went to get his wallet and his keys, I walked Dolores to the door and slammed it behind her.

Dad came back down the stairs, ready to go.

‘Seriously, Dad? Why her? She’s awful,’ I said.

‘Ah, now, Dolores is a nice person when you get to know her.’

‘No, she is not. And does she have to sit in Mum’s chair?’ I’d promised myself I wouldn’t mention it, but I couldn’t help it. It just felt like a betrayal.

Dad sighed. ‘I know what you mean, love, but it’s just a chair.’

‘No, it isn’t. It’s Mum’s chair.’ I knew I sounded half crazy, but everything still felt so raw. This was Mum’s house, her home. ‘She’s only gone a matter of months, Dad! What are you doing with that dreadful woman?’

Dad leaned against the front door, looking old and weary. ‘I’m lonely, Sophie. I miss your mum every minute of every day. I find the days and nights very long. You’re all great kids and are very good to me, but you’re busy with your own lives and children. I like having company. Dolores is easy to be around. She gets me out of my head and out of the house. Most days I don’t know what to do with myself. You have to remember, love, you lost a mother, but I lost a wife – it’s a different kind of loss.’

I bit my lip. I had been too quick to judge. Poor Dad. My anger melted away. ‘I’m sorry, Dad. I’m sorry you feel lonely. I know you miss Mum. So do I. I miss her so much. But it’s much harder for you, I get that. I just … well, it’s just that …’

Dad took my hand in his. ‘Sophie, I’m not running off into the sunset with Dolores. We’re just having dinner. She could never replace my Anne. That’s not what this is about.’

Yes, but it was dinner on Mum’s best china, used once a year, and Dolores was sitting in Mum’s chair, and she was pushy and brash and I hated her.

My phone rang.

‘Damn, it’s Gavin,’ I said. ‘Hi, Gavin, we’re just –’

‘What the actual? Where are you? I need support here. My girlfriend is having a baby and Mum’s not here to help me!’ he roared.

‘Jesus, let’s get to him before he combusts,’ Dad said, as he hurried me out of the door and locked it behind us.

‘We’re on the way right now. Relax, she’ll be in labour for a while. I’m bringing Dad. We’re coming.’

We walked into the hospital and saw Louise and Julie at the desk. The receptionist gave us directions.

‘Has the baby arrived?’ I asked.

‘Not yet,’ Julie said. ‘But Gavin keeps calling. He sounds manic.’

‘He’s hyperventilating down the phone.’ Louise pressed the button on the lift. ‘You’d swear he was the one in labour.’

‘God, I hope this doesn’t go on all night.’ I stepped into the lift.

‘I brought snacks and drinks in case it does.’ Julie indicated a big holdall.

Dad hesitated at the lift doors. ‘Maybe I should go home. I’m a bit of a spare tool here. He has all of you girls. I don’t want to be in the way.’

I silently cursed Dolores for feeding his self-doubt. We’d have to work on reassuring him and making him feel wanted in every situation.

‘No way.’ Julie linked his arm. ‘We’re all suffering this labour together.’

Gavin was pacing up and down outside the delivery room shouting into his phone, ‘Dad! Where are you? I’ve left three messages. Shania is in labour. I need you here.’

We waved at him and he hung up.

‘Answer your phone, will you?’ Gavin immediately launched at Dad.

‘He was busy,’ I muttered.

‘It’s all right, son. Take a breath. I’m here,’ Dad said, wrapping him in a hug. Gavin looked instantly calmer. They clashed a lot and had lost Mum as their glue, but their bond went deep all the same.

Dad walked Gavin over to the window, talking calmly to him all the while, his arm firmly around his shoulders.

‘What was Dad busy with?’ Louise asked.

‘Dinner with Dolores,’ I said.

‘What?’ Julie looked upset. ‘In our house?’

‘Yes. She was sitting in Mum’s chair and he had the Christmas china on the table.’ The words were out before I could stop them.

‘No!’ Julie looked as shocked as I’d felt. ‘Jesus, the Christmas china? Mum would give him a real piece of her mind for that. She loved that set.’

‘Definitely trying to impress her,’ Louise noted.

‘I’m being a bit of a bitch,’ I said. ‘I was shocked, but then Dad told me how lonely he feels and how no one could replace Mum. He’s not forgetting her, he’s just trying to get on with life without her, I suppose.’

Julie and Louise looked at me, then at Dad.

‘I really should get over to him more often,’ Louise said. ‘The days just slip by, work is a nightmare, and suddenly I realize I haven’t seen him for ages.’

‘Well, actually,’ I said, ‘on that note, I think we have to bring him to Italy. We need to spend time with him, make him feel useful and valued, and get him away from Dolores.’ I stared at Louise.

‘I agree. Come on, Louise,’ Julie urged her.

She sighed. ‘Okay, fine, but you two are in charge of him.’

‘Deal,’ Julie and I answered.

I was thrilled. It was just what Dad needed.

‘Stop yapping – come on,’ Gavin called. ‘Shania’s in here.’

We followed him into the birthing room where Shania was sitting on a big ball. She was in a hospital gown looking very serene. There was a big bath in the corner.

‘Hey!’ She smiled.

Dad was standing at the door, looking uncomfortable again.

‘How are you doing, Shania?’ I asked.

‘Getting closer, I think.’ She glanced at the midwife, who nodded.

‘Wow, this is nice,’ Julie said, looking around. ‘I had the triplets in a small, windowless room. This is seriously fancy. I’d move in here myself.’

‘What is that godawful noise?’ Louise asked.

‘Monks chanting,’ Shania said. ‘It’s these monks who live in, like, this tiny village in some country, I can’t remember the name, but they’re like super-holy and their chant is supposed to put you in a Zen-like trance. Close your eyes and go with it, Louise.’

I tried not to look at Louise’s face – I knew I’d laugh. Julie fake-coughed to hide her giggles.

‘Trance?’ Louise said. ‘Shania, that wailing will give you and your baby a migraine.’

‘She likes it,’ Gavin said firmly.

‘I have no words,’ Dad muttered.

‘I gave birth to Jess to Take That’s “Rule The World”. Oh, it was gorgeous.’ I could see it all. Jack holding my hand and Jess’s kitten-like cry as she came into the world with the song playing in the background. I’d thought, Yes, my beautiful baby girl will rule the world.

‘I had no music and Harry and I cried the whole way through, half because of joy but also because we had no money and we knew that looking after triplets was going to be a nightmare. Then Tom, our accident, came along, and we were even more freaked out.’

‘Oh, Julie, I feel so bad for you.’ Shania made a sad face.

Julie laughed. ‘It’s fine, it all worked out, and Tom was an angel baby.’

‘I don’t remember much about Clara’s birth. I felt numb. It took me a while to bond with her, but then … well …’ Louise smiled.

Julie, Mum and I had been worried about Louise’s complete lack of maternal instinct. She had no reaction when Clara was born. It was like one of her work transactions – ‘Right, baby is born, I need her in a crèche, and how soon can I get back to work?’

Thankfully, after a while she’d fallen hook, line and sinker for Clara and it had made her a nicer person. She’d been a bit hard and intimidating before motherhood had softened her edges. Mum always said it was the making of her.

‘Well, our baby is going to be born to chanting and a calm, peaceful environment,’ Shania said.

‘Dad,’ I asked, ‘what are your memories of our births?’

‘Well, now, they were different times, the men stayed out of the room and waited. The midwife came and told me the good news and then I came in and Anne was holding you … It was … well, it was … a miracle each time.’ He stopped and gathered himself. ‘Anyway, I think I’ll step out now. Shania doesn’t need me in here taking up space and, to be honest, the chanting is doing my head in.’

‘We all need earplugs,’ Louise muttered.

‘Can I have a bath while I’m waiting?’ Julie joked.

‘Shania’s having a water birth. It’s going to be so cool,’ Gavin told us.

‘What happens when the bathwater goes cold? Do you just keep emptying it out and refilling it?’ Julie asked.

‘It’s at thirty-seven degrees Celsius, which is the same as Shania’s body temperature. It’s much better to have babies this way because Shania will feel counter-pressure on her back, her sacrum, her legs and vulva.’

‘Gavin, did you actually just say “vulva”?’ Julie snorted.

‘Sweet divine Jesus, I’m gone.’ Dad hurriedly exited the room to wait outside.

‘Yes, Julie, I did. I’m not fifteen, I can talk about women’s body parts. Water births are supposed to be better because they reduce the risk of tearing or an episiotomy.’

‘Okay, okay, I get it, you’re a modern man.’ Julie covered her ears with her hands.

‘Gavin is super-supportive of the water birth and I really don’t want to tear. I want my vagina intact. I don’t want to end up with, like, a big tunnel down there,’ Shania said.

‘I lost count of how many stitches I had after Tom,’ Julie said. ‘I’d say it’s the feckin’ Eurotunnel down there.’

Louise and I cracked up.

‘Thanks, Julie, that’s really helpful,’ Gavin said sarcastically. ‘We want the birthing room to be a calm and positive space, please.’

Louise picked up her bag. ‘I can’t take the wailing monks. I’m going to wait outside with Dad.’

‘Me too,’ I said. ’Good luck, Shania.’

‘Me three.’ Julie followed us out.

We sat in the waiting room, laughing and eating snacks. Two hours later the baby got into distress and Shania was rushed into surgery for an emergency C-section. No chanting, no water, no calm or peaceful arrival.

I knocked gently on the door.

‘Come in.’

We three and Dad walked in. Gavin was holding his newborn baby in his arms.

‘Congratulations!’ Louise said.

‘Well done.’ Dad patted Gavin on the back and gave Shania the thumbs-up.

Shania was lying back on the bed looking exhausted and happy.

‘So?’ Julie asked.

‘A girl.’ Gavin showed us his baby proudly.

‘Awwwww,’ we all cooed.

‘What are you calling her?’ Dad asked.

‘Lemon.’ Shania said the name as if it was a prayer.

We all froze.

Dad laughed. ‘Good one! What’s her middle name? Kiwi? So what are you calling her?’

I tried to catch his eye, but he was looking at Gavin.

‘It’s Lemon, Dad.’

‘What?’

‘Her name is Lemon.’

‘How do you spell it?’ Dad asked.

‘L-E-M-O-N,’ Shania said. ‘Isn’t it beautiful? It’s nature, sunshine yellow and light all rolled into one name.’

‘So, just like the fruit?’ Dad was incredulous.

‘Yes.’ Gavin’s jaw set just as it did when Dad said men should go out to work.

‘You’re calling your child a lemon?’

‘No, Dad, not a lemon, Lemon.’

‘You’re a lemon if you do that,’ Dad said. ‘Pure cruel that is. The child has no hope in life with a name like that.’

Gavin looked like he was about to throw a punch.

‘Dad, it’s Shania and Gavin’s baby and they like the name, so let’s go with it,’ said Julie.

‘Lemon is a fruit, not a name.’ Dad was just as stubborn as Gavin.

‘It’s certainly unique. She’ll be the only Lemon in the country.’ Julie tried to smooth things over.

‘Exactly.’ Shania beamed. ‘I’m the only Shania I know and I love it.’

‘Well, if it’s unique you were going for, you’ve definitely achieved that goal,’ Louise said.

‘I think it’s lovely.’ I wanted to paper over Dad’s disapproval. ‘Can I hold her?’

Gavin passed Lemon to me and I inhaled her milky scent. Oh, I missed this. I missed Jess’s sweet scent and holding her close, feeling like her protector.

Dad shuffled about beside me. You could have cut the air with a knife.

‘In case you’re interested, Dad, her full name is Lemon Anne Devlin,’ Gavin said.

‘Oh,’ Dad said quietly. ‘Well, that’s lovely, son. Your mother would be very pleased.’

I held out the baby. Dad took her in his arms.

‘Well, hello there, little Lem– little one. I’m your granddad and your granny is smiling down at you, I can promise you that. She’d have surely loved to meet you.’

I swallowed back tears and saw that my siblings were all doing the same. Gavin wiped one away. Mum loved babies. She would have been so happy to see Gavin, her only son and the apple of her eye, become a father.

Dad rocked the baby and gazed into her sweet little face. ‘Mind you, she would have struggled with the fruit-naming side of things.’

‘DAD!’ all four of us said at once. Thankfully, Shania started laughing.