Page 70 of Forever, Maybe

Chapter fifty-three

“Where are you going?” Trish bellowed as Daniel about-turned, heading for the back door his father had slammed minutes earlier.

“Out,” he called over his shoulder, not stopping as he darted through the house and around the corner to his car.

The photo of Ryan had jolted something loose in his memory, sharpening the edges of Joe’s words from a few months ago:

That young lad—ye ken the one that came into the Hyndland shop a few weeks back?

Me and Holly interviewed him for a job. Seemed that capable we offered it to him there and then.

He’s out wi’ Dennis in the van that goes round the industrial estates, getting the practice in before the festivals start…

Joe had added that Ryan had done well enough to be taken on permanently.

Now, with festival season more or less over, Dennis and the van would be stationed at Anniesland today, parked outside the industrial estate to catch workers looking for a convenient lunch.

Daniel’s foot pressed harder on the accelerator as the fragmented memories collided: the interview, Joe’s offhand comment about Ryan’s likeness to someone. Maybe he’d remembered Amsterdam too. Maybe he’d wondered, just like Daniel was wondering now, if Ryan was his past coming back to bite him.

The traffic on Dumbarton Road crawled, every red light and slow-moving lorry stretching Daniel’s patience to breaking point. His fingers drummed a frantic tattoo on the steering wheel.

C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…

Finally, the industrial estate loomed into view. A large office block dominated the landscape, with smaller portable units clustered on the hill above.

He pulled into the main car park and abandoned his car without bothering to lock it. His pulse thudded in his ears as he dashed off to find the van, scanning frantically for Dennis and, more importantly, Ryan.

There it was—the van, instantly recognisable by its red-and-black branding and the unmistakable aroma of baked potatoes wafting through the air. A decent queue had formed, people shuffling forward while staring at their phones.

Daniel bolted toward it, his pulse hammering in his ears.

Dennis’s Afro bobbed into view as he leaned out of the hatch, asking the first person in line for their order. Behind him, Daniel spotted a dark-haired boy, and his heart leapt into his throat.

“It’s yoursel’, boss!” Dennis called out, flashing a grin and a wave. “Where’s the fire?”

Daniel skidded to a halt in front of the van, panting. Every eye in the queue turned to him, curiosity mixed with mild annoyance. Ryan looked up from behind Dennis, his gaze locking on Daniel’s.

The boy’s expression didn’t scream long-lost sixteen-year-old facing an absentee parent, but there was a challenge there—a steady, unblinking look that sent a fresh wave of doubt crashing through Daniel.

“Mind if I have a word wi’ Ryan?” Daniel asked, his voice tight.

Dennis shrugged, his cheerful demeanour dimming slightly. “Aye, if ye want, but…” He flicked his gaze toward the queue, where impatience simmered—arms crossed, toes tapping, tuts loud enough to cut through the smell of food.

“Yeah, I know,” Daniel said quickly, raising a placating hand. “It won’t take long.”

Ryan slipped out of the van from the back, the Stuffed!

logo stretched across his regulation black T-shirt.

Blue latex gloves encased his hands, and up close, he was taller than Daniel had expected.

Lankier, too, as if he'd shot up too fast and the rest of his body hadn’t quite caught up.

He rubbed his nose self-consciously, and something in the gesture made Daniel’s chest tighten.

He remembered that feeling. The acne, the self-consciousness. Shouldn’t they have better treatments for it these days? Then again, those things cost money, and Ryan—poor lad—had grown up in a single-parent household.

The queue of onlookers was still watching them. Daniel cleared his throat. “Everyone’s watching us. Shall we move to the side a bit?”

Ryan hesitated before falling into step beside him.

Might as well get straight to the point. “Are you my son?”

Ryan recoiled. “What? No! ”

Daniel blinked. “You’re not? But we look so alike, and I thought—”

“I thought you were married and have been for a long time. Like, way before I was born. Isn’t your brother the cheatin’ bastard in your family?”

“ Luke ?”

“No, Mark!”

Daniel stopped short. The conversation had just taken a spectacularly strange turn. He studied Ryan again, the resemblance shifting before his eyes. Yes, the boy looked like him. But he also looked an awful lot like Mark.

“Wait,” Daniel said slowly. “Are you saying… Mark’s your father?”

“Aye. Ma mum never telt anyone who ma father was, but when I turned sixteen, I asked her and she let me know. She was in Amsterdam with her pals years ago and ran into Mark. Turns out they went to school together. One thing led to another, and… well.” He shrugged. “Here I am.”

Disappointment hit Daniel like a punch to the gut. An instant son, snatched away just like that. But Ryan’s story made sense. Joe had been booted from his room because Mark had pulled .

“Sorry,” Daniel muttered. “Looks like there’s been a misunderstanding.” As if that wasn’t painfully obvious. “Does, er… my brother know about you?”

“Oh, aye. Ma mum telt him at the time. He didn’t believe her. Said the baby wasn’t his.” Ryan’s mouth twisted. “He’s never tried tae met me. Never paid a penny for me.”

Dear God in Govan. Mark had never told a soul. That time his brother had brushed off a call as a wrong number. Daniel was willing to bet that had been Ryan.

The boy rubbed his nose again, a nervous habit that tugged at something in Daniel’s chest. “I thought, see… if I worked for you, I might run into him. Ask him why he’s ignored me all these years. Arsehole.”

Arsehole was right. Mark didn’t deserve him. If Ryan had been his son, what would Daniel have done? Fast-tracked him through the company? Paid for him to go to college? Given him one of the rooms in that big Pollokshields house and told him to make himself at home?

The queue outside the sandwich van had doubled—partly because Dennis was struggling to handle customers on his own.

Daniel looked at Ryan, at the way he held himself, all stiff shoulders and guarded eyes. If he knew him better, he might have hugged him. Dug out a twenty-pound note and promised he’d drag Mark kicking and screaming into his life.

But there were too many people watching.

Ryan broke the silence. “Why’d you think you were my dad?”

That straight-forwardness. Maybe they weren’t related by blood, but there was something familiar there.

Daniel puffed his cheeks and blew out air. “Seventeen years ago, I went on a trip to Amsterdam, the same one my brother was on, and I slept with someone. Well, I think I did. I got too shit-faced to remember afterwards. I was married at the time.”

Ryan’s eyebrows raised. “That wasnae decent o’ you.”

“No. It wasn’t. Look, you better get back to work. I’ll speak to my brother. My mother will definitely want to meet you. You’re her oldest grandson.”

Ryan perked up at that, doubtless imagining a woman on a mission to make up for years of missed birthday and Christmas presents. “Am I? Cool.”

He slapped the boy’s back and moved off. No-one had stolen his car. The only bonus point in a day that had sent his heart soaring and plummeting to the ground. Would anyone notice if he planted his face on his steering wheel and wept?

Reluctantly concluding that someone might, he started the car up and drove off. How did this stand him with Nell now that they both knew they were evenly matched, infidelity-wise?

It made no difference. His child or not, Nell wouldn’t forgive him for the sanctimonious way he had treated her when he found out about Jamie Curtice, and she’d only ended up sleeping with him because he had let her down so badly when she was offered that exhibition.

No, she hadn’t use that as an excuse, but it could not have been a coincidence.

Rain didn’t obscure his view as he drove back along the A82; rather the tears that poured down his cheeks.