Page 49

Adam

The house is quiet when I let myself in.

Mum and Wren must have taken the dogs with them to lunch.

After a quick shower and change of clothes, I write an actual to-do list and cross off tasks as I complete them: finish sewing the shapes.

Tick. Find Victoria sponge recipe online/check ingredients/cake tins.

Tick. I search Mum’s cupboards and the fridge before nipping out to the farm shop to buy eggs.

They sell cornflowers and I pick a few bunches to make up with Mum. Double tick.

Back home, I put the flowers in a vase and jot a note in her kitchen pad.

Sorry again. Thank you for being such a great mum and grandma. I’m lucky to have you.

Adam x

Next, I tear off a few pages and focus on the number-one item on my list.

Dear Wren

I’m sorry for letting you down. Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to hurt you. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.

I find it hard to talk about how I feel – that’s why I’m writing a letter. (I hope you can read my horrible handwriting!)

I’ve always wanted you, Wren. I was so excited when your mum told me I was a dad! I couldn’t wait for us to get to know each other. I was also scared I wouldn’t be good enough, that I’d fail because I didn’t know what I was doing. I still don’t, but I’m learning from you!

Every day, I’m in awe of how brave, clever and talented you are. You’re thoughtful, determined and better at sewing, dancing and surfing than I’ll ever be!

My dad encouraged me to excel in my education and extracurricular activities, and I thought that’s what it meant to be a good parent. But that’s not nearly enough. The problem is, Dad never taught me how to show I care about someone, which is the most important thing in life.

I must learn how to open up to you and other people I care deeply about. It’s like my sewing and surfing – I need practice! But I promise I will do better.

I want us to spend more time doing things together. I’ve finished sewing the shapes and would love to make a cake with you. Come find me in my bedroom if you want to. But if you don’t, that’s all right too. I’ll never put pressure on you to do something just to make me happy.

Lots of love

Dad xx

I leave the letter on the counter and head upstairs.

I spend the next half hour looking through next term’s lesson plans, before the front door bangs open and the dogs bark loudly.

I pace nervously up and down for what feels like forever.

The TV turns on in the sitting room, and a Frozen song rings out.

Wren has rejected my apology. Rejected me.

I’ve slumped on to the bed, resting my head in my hands, when there’s a timid knock at the door. It’s so quiet, I almost miss it. I spring to my feet and launch myself towards the handle, stumbling as I open it.

Wren stands in front of me, smiling and clutching the note. She steps inside and throws her arms around my waist.

‘I forgive you, Da-Adam,’ she says. ‘I’m sorry too.’

Mum is in the kitchen, unloading the dishwasher after dinner. Wren’s gone to bed early; she’s worn out and fell asleep after one chapter of Skandar and the Unicorn Thief . Our Victoria sponge sits on a plate next to the coffee cups, a big wedge cut out.

Mum glances back, sensing I’m lurking in the doorway. ‘This was lovely,’ she says, stacking clean plates in the cupboard.

‘Thanks! I thought it was overbaked, but we’ll do better next time.’

‘Not the cake, even though that was delicious – and a big surprise!’ She turns around, her eyes misty.

‘I mean having you both here for a family dinner, cooking together this afternoon, walking the dogs on the beach, me reading Wren a bedtime story. Everything!’ She throws her hands in the air.

‘It’s wonderful to have the company. I appreciate you both coming back.

I’ve missed Wren.’ She bites her lip. ‘I’ve missed you too, Adam. ’

Sophie talked earlier about appreciating the small moments, so I walk over and pull her in for a hug. She stiffens slightly, before relaxing and embracing me back.

‘You keep surprising me today,’ she says gruffly. ‘What was that in aid of?’

‘To say sorry for not visiting more often... and, well, for jumping down your throat when you’re trying to help.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she replies, grasping my arms. ‘It’s my fault you’ve stayed away.’

I shake my head. ‘You were right... I’m exhausted and work’s got on top of me, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.’

‘It’s not just that.’ She looks me straight in the eye. ‘Let’s be honest with each other. You think you’ve disappointed me. That you’ve somehow let me down, as well as Dad, because you’ve left Stanford.’

‘Well, haven’t I?’ I blurt out. ‘When you spent so much on my education? It was tens of thousands. More...’

My mind whirrs with the calculations. I wince at the possible six-figure final sum.

‘We never begrudged it,’ Mum insists. ‘Dad was left a large inheritance from his parents and we both wanted to give you the best possible start in life.’

I flinch, trying to keep my emotions in check. She can hardly think what I’m doing now is ‘the best’.

‘That wasn’t a veiled criticism,’ she adds quickly. ‘Neither of us is good at saying what we really mean, Adam, but please believe me when I say you’re not a disappointment. I’m proud of the way you’ve stepped up. You’re such a brilliant dad and I’m sure you’re a great teacher.’

I shake my head. ‘Hardly!’

‘It’s true. You’ve always been kind and compassionate.

I know it’s been tough, learning to put Wren’s needs before your own.

But I honestly think that leaving Stanford to look after her is the best decision you’ve ever made.

Supporting Wren and all those children at your school will be the making of you. ’

I watch, speechless, as she refills the water bowls for Bella and Max, who have trotted in.

‘You were my miracle baby, Adam,’ she explains without looking up.

‘After years of miscarriages and IVF, we were told we’d never have children.

We’d stopped trying, then you arrived, and we wanted to pour everything into you and give the perfect life to the perfect child.

We pushed you to succeed at school, university and beyond.

I tried my best to cushion you from the pressure, but I failed. I’m sorry.’

My chest contracts as I remember how she often covered for me with Dad, explaining I was checking out the local library when I had my first surfing lesson with Sophie.

‘Dad wouldn’t feel the same as you... If he could see me now, he’d be devastated that I’d...’

‘Broken the promise you made to him about Stanford when he was dying?’

My jaw drops as she straightens, rubbing her back.

‘I should have admitted this much, much sooner, but I was outside the bedroom door and overheard your last conversation with him. I was so upset I had to go downstairs.’

‘Why? Had you guessed I wouldn’t keep my word?’

‘No! I was crying with anger. He should never have asked you to commit your life to him. I love your dad and miss him terribly, but he was in the wrong, not you.’

I draw in a sharp breath as she walks over.

‘True love doesn’t come with strings attached, Adam,’ she says, taking my hands. ‘It doesn’t force you down a path you don’t want to take. You have to be free to make your own choices, pursue your own dreams and love whatever and whomever you want.’

I feel a huge weight lift from my shoulders as she folds me into a hug.

‘Thanks, Mum,’ I say, my voice thick with emotion. ‘That means a lot.’

‘I love you, Adam, so very, very much. I’m sorry your dad never said those three words enough, but I don’t want to make the same mistakes as him. I’ll always be proud of you and Wren, whatever you do. I love you both with all my heart.’

‘I love you too, Mum. I don’t tell you that enough either.’

She holds me tighter. There’s a scuffling noise behind us, and we break apart. Wren is grinning in the doorway.

‘I thought you were asleep?’ I ask, wiping my eyes.

‘I woke up and was leaves dropping.’

Mum frowns. ‘You were doing what?’

‘Eavesdropping!’ I clarify.

‘Ah, I see,’ Mum says, smiling. ‘In that case, did you “leaves drop” what I said about you?’

‘Yes!’ Wren says, darting over. ‘Let’s have a big family hug.’

She wraps her arms around us both and my heart overflows with happiness.