Chapter 34

Chapter Thirty-Four

Will

T eenage boys. They'd been in my house while I'd been away. I could smell it. It was a mixture of aftershave, farts, and sweaty armpits.

Maddy had at least told me that they'd been there, but I was sure there was more to it than that. She wasn't spilling, though, no matter how much I questioned her. That had pissed me off because Maddy never lied to me. At least I didn't think she did—how the fuck did I know? She was a bloody teenager; it was part of their DNA.

"What's wrong with your face?" Marcus asked, as he passed me a mug of tea while we took ten minutes before we got ready for opening. "I thought a weekend with the new girlfriend would have put a smile on that ugly jib of yours."

Girlfriend! We hadn't had that conversation but after the weekend, it was probably long overdue. As far as I was concerned, she was, but I needed to at least ask Maya.

"Yeah, the weekend was good. It's what went on at home that bothers me."

"Maddy been up to no good?"

I shrugged. "Says not, but I'm sure she had boys staying over. Specifically, her new boyfriend and Sam's lad, Liam."

Marcus' eyes bugged out. "Maddy and two boys?"

"Fuck off," I snapped, punching him in the arm. "There were other girls there, too. My Maddy isn't like that."

"Well, you clearly think she is, otherwise you wouldn't have a gob on you."

"I don't. I think maybe he's a bad influence." I didn't. Not really, but it was better than thinking him staying over might have been her idea.

Marcus knew me too well. "No, you don't. You told me that you liked him. Said he was a nice lad."

Sighing heavily, I pulled out a bar stool and placed my mug on the bar. "He is. I'm just having a hard time accepting that she's growing up. She told me he didn't stay over, but I'm not sure I believe her. I want to but I don't."

Taking the stool next to me, he shrugged. "And? She's seventeen."

"Exactly, Marcus! I don't doubt that she's done stuff, but I just hope she's been careful." I pinched the bridge of my nose and took a deep breath. "Look, I'm excited for her and all the new things she's going to start to experience," I shuddered, "even falling in love for the first time, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to worry."

"So trust her and him."

"I'll have to because at thirty-seven, I'm not ready to be a grandad." I felt the blood drain from my face. "I was fucking lucky that I had Miriam and as much as I would be there for her, I don't want her to have to make sacrifices. She's much brighter, more driven and would be giving up much more than I had to. Because let's be honest Marcus, I gained a hell of a lot when she was born. More than I deserved."

"I know mate," he replied, squeezing my shoulder. "But times are different now old man and maybe she could have both; a child and a career."

My eyes almost popped out of my head as I took a step back from him. "Doesn't mean she should. Zak's a great kid but it doesn't mean I want him impregnating my seventeen year old daughter."

Marcus laughed loudly. "You dick. You don't know for sure they're having sex, although." He tilted his head to one side and screwed up one eye. "It's probably a given."

"Why don't you fuck off." I shook my head and groaned. "Thinking it and knowing it are two different things."

"Listen, Will, if they've had sex then Maddy is sensible enough to take precautions. In fact, she's got the implant."

I blinked and leaned forward. "How the fuck do you know that?"

"Because you researched it for weeks and then asked me to cover an afternoon shift so you could take her to the doctors. Maddy had it because she had painful periods, and she wanted to have it rather than the pill because she thought she might forget to take it."

"Christ, you took notice, didn't you?"

"The point is, she's already being safe, and if Zak is the sort of boy you seem to think he is, well I'm betting he treated her with respect. Whether they had sex or not."

"I know, I know, I'm just being over protective. I get it." I shook my head. "For fuck's sake, I can't believe I'm taking advice from you, Norford's biggest Fuck Boy."

He winked at me and clinked his mug with mine. "My pleasure."

Deciding my daughter's potential sex life was a subject I no longer wanted to discuss, I took a long drink of my tea. When the bar door swung open, I was just finishing it off, enjoying the companiable silence that had fallen.

A tall, dark haired man, dressed in a navy blue suit and white open-necked shirt wandered in. He looked around, his chin had a confident jut, which reminded me of Maddy's when she was trying to get her own way.

"Shit, I forgot to lock the door after the bread was delivered." I groaned and put my mug down on the bar and turned to the visitor. "Can I help you?"

The man's gaze whipped to me, and he smoothed a hand down his shirt. "I'm looking for William Newman."

I sighed; sales reps were my worst nightmare. They knew I insisted on an appointment. I hadn't seen him before, though, so I'd cut him some slack.

"That's me, but if you want to try and sell me your beer or spirits then I operate on appointment only."

Marcus stood up and grabbed both the mugs. "I'll leave you to it." He grinned because he hated sales reps as much as I did.

The man wandered over, and as he got closer, I felt like I knew him. Like I recognised him from somewhere. His eyes were familiar.

"It's not about beer," he said, coming closer, and I got a whiff of aftershave. I frowned because it dragged a memory right from the back of my mind. I had no idea what I was remembering, just something.

"Well, we don't do much in the way of food, so not sure I can help you with much else. Sorry."

He put his hands on the back of the stool that Marcus had vacated, his fingers digging into the leather. Narrowing his eyes on me, he cleared his throat, and the confidence of a few minutes earlier seemed to have disappeared.

"It's nothing to do with the bar at all," he told me in a deep baritone.

I swung my legs around, away from the bar, ready to stand up and invite him to leave, if necessary. There was something about his demeanour that was edgy. Like he was looking for an argument, or he was at least ready for one. His tongue flicked along his bottom lip, backwards and forwards, like he was playing for time.

"Listen, mate," I sighed. "Do you want to tell me why you're in my bar. I really need to get ready for lunchtime opening in," I glanced at the clock on the wall, "an hour."

"Yeah, sorry," he replied and pulled his shoulders back. "You're William Newman, right?"

"Yes. I told you that."

With a quick nod, he held out his hand, like he wanted me to shake it. "Nice to meet you, William. I'm Steven Brownlow. I'm your dad."

My mouth instantly went dry, and all I could hear was my heart pounding in my ears. The earth tilted a little beneath me as I stared at the eyes I suddenly recognised. They were mine. Maddy's . The tilt of his chin was Maddy's.

I shook my head. "No. Not a chance."

He inhaled slowly and then let it out even slower, like he was the most relaxed man in the world. A small smile at his lips and the straightening of his spine brought back his air of confidence. Like he was a man who was never told no, never questioned.

"I can assure you I am." He reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out a photograph. "Your mum and me in Blackpool where we met. She was on holiday with her friend, Helen. She was twenty-two when she had you and her name is Marie."

"Was," I croaked out. "Her name was , Marie."

If it was shock that made his smile drop and his shoulders stoop, it was only for a split second. In a snap his poise was back.

"I'm really sorry for your loss. When did she die?"

If I expected any emotion from him, I wasn't getting any. Platitudes from the man who'd suddenly announced we were blood related.

Gripping the brass rail in front of the bar I pulled myself to standing. "Listen, I know who you say you are, but I'm not sure I want you here."

"I understand. It's a shock. Not what you were expecting when you got out of bed this morning."

"Not what I expected for the last thirty-seven years," I said through gritted teeth. "A bit late, if I'm honest. And don't tell me you didn't know about me because I know Mum told you."

I was aware I was the product of a summer fling, but I also knew she'd told him, and he wasn't interested. When I was eighteen, a box of Mum's papers found their way to me. In it was the usual stuff like my birth certificate, Mum's death certificate and a letter from my father stating he couldn't be involved with me because he was about to get married to his long-term girlfriend. He signed it with an S, couldn't even be arsed to put his full name. For years, I'd told myself it stood for shit bag.

"Circumstances made it difficult for me to be involved," he retorted, flatly, like I should accept it as being okay.

"Yeah, how is your wife? I assume you married her despite getting my mum pregnant."

"She passed away a couple of months ago," he stated, still showing no real emotion.

"Oh right, so you thought I know I'll go and find my long lost son." Shaking my head, I pushed past him, nudging him with my shoulder. He was tall, yet I still had a couple of inches on him and few pounds of muscle, and he took a stumbling step backwards.

"William, please."

"It's Will and I'm not fucking interested."

My heart felt like it was about to jump up out of my throat and throw itself onto the floor in front of me. It was beating so hard as I walked away from him, an act that didn't distress me in any way. I'd never been the sort of kid who had an idealistic view of what his dad might be like, or that he might come riding in on a white horse to rescue me from my shitty childhood in foster homes. For one, he'd made it clear he didn't want me, and for two, I'd lived with foster families and in the main they were okay until Mrs P and she was incredible. I couldn't have wanted for a better home if I couldn't be with my mum. In fact, Mrs P probably gave me more support and home comforts than Mum ever did or could have. How could she when she worked two jobs? It didn't make her a bad mother, if anything, it was what made her a great mother. Mrs P just gave me something different that I needed at that time in my life. That was why Steven Brownlow could fuck off.

"I can understand why you're angry," he called to my retreating back. "Things were different then. I was different then. I was just a stupid young man who had no backbone. If I had, I'd have told my wife the truth."

I swung around my chest burning with anger. "But you weren't, and you didn't. I've had thirty-seven years without you and not missed you one little bit, so I don't really see the need to have you in my life now." I lifted up the bar flap and walked through. "Now if you'd like to leave through the front door, I'd appreciate it."

"William," he snapped like he was my dad and could tell me what to do. "I thin?—"

"I don't care what you think, now piss off out of my bar."

As his footsteps sounded on the wooden floor, I waited, my spine stiff until I heard the front door open and then close. As soon as it banged shut, my whole body relaxed, and I grabbed the door handle to stop myself from stumbling. I'd never missed him. Never thought about him, and yet I knew now my head would be full of him and what might have been, and I hated it.