Page 14

Jack

“Dad?”

I’d been lost in thought for who-knows-how-long. The mug of tea between my palms was now tepid, my laptop had timed-out, long given up hope on any work being done. It had been so long since I’d moved that Dickens and Darwin – my two male English Setters – were snoring by my feet.

I was so focused on the marble countertop that my eyes had blurred over, until Frannie snapped me from my subconscious.

I looked up to find her staring at me, the fridge door open, and a jug of filtered water in her hands with a concerned expression on her beautiful face.

Frannie resembled her mother in every way – her face shape, smile, and eyes were all my late wife, Harriett’s. The thick chocolate hair and eyebrows were all me.

“ Hello ? Earth to Dad?!”

I refocused on her. “Frannie. Hi. Sorry. I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I guessed. What’s up?”

Hopping off the bar stool, rousing the dogs, and moving around the kitchen island until I was next to her. I avoided her question. I wasn’t sure I could answer it anyway.

“Sorry, love. When did you get in?”

It wasn’t uncommon for Frannie to return home unannounced from university in Manchester. She’d walked through the door unexpectedly so many times in the past two years, I was used to predicting her unpredictability.

I filled up the kettle half-way and flicked the lever until it started to heat the water.

I’d never managed to rid the routine of putting less water in the kettle after Harrie died.

Around the time she passed, our daughter picked up the tea-drinking-habit her parents were addicted to.

She filled the gap and used up the extra water.

Even after she moved to Manchester to study interior design and I was living on my own, I continued to overfill the kettle, just in case.

“Last night while you were at the gala. I’m visiting Grandma and Grandad tomorrow, I thought it would be easier to drive up from here. ”

I turned to her, crossed my arms and leaned against the cabinet. I raised one brow and smirked at my only child.

“You thought it would be easier to visit from the north-west of England, to the north-east of England, to travel to the south-west of Scotland? Don’t kid a kidder, Frannie. What’s up?”

She blushed and hung her head, caught out. Her dark hair fell covering the side of her face as she placed the water jug on the counter.

“I wanted to see my dad. Can’t a girl visit without an ulterior motive?” She collected her fallen hair in one hand, combined it with the rest and swirled it between her fingers until it was encased in a cream scrunchy, and fell smoothly down her back.

Looking at her properly now, she wore a cream hoodie and wide leg stripy trousers. She was makeup-free, allowing her eyes to shine and freckles to pop – my favourite type of Frannie. She still looked like the little girl who would beg me to play ‘decorators’ with her.

“She can, but I know her better than that. What do you need?”

Her smile dropped, as did her eyes and her face filled with sadness.

It was enough for my stomach to drop and my old, wounded heart to crack.

I pulled her in with one arm and wrapped the other around her shoulders and kissed my daughter’s head.

Quickly, her arms draped around my waist and her face smooshed into my chest. Yep – she was still my little girl.

“Hey, Frannie," I cooed. "Talk to me, love.” I shook my lingering anxieties to care for my child.

“The girls were going out all weekend—” Her little voice was muffled against me, so I pulled her back to hear her.

“I tried to want to go, I just… couldn’t.

I went out with them last week, so they couldn’t say I never go …

but two weekends in a row? That’s too much, I can’t handle it.

” Her eyes bounced nervously as she spoke, until they landed on mine.

When they did, her shoulders relaxed a fraction.

“I told them you needed me home and we were going up to Grandma and Grandad’s together.

They don’t know where they live, so it was an easy white lie to tell—”

Frannie had always struggled with the social aspects of university. I think she hoped she’d adapt once she got there, but unlike her old dad, she wasn’t a big fan of late nights and partying. After meeting her mother, nights out paled in significance to the family I had at home.

She was a home bird, and I loved that about her. I never wanted to force her into situations she didn’t enjoy or feel comfortable in. She had her childhood best friend, Zoe, and her family and that was enough .

“—Aaaaand, I’d hoped you’d let me take your car? I promise I’ll pay for the fuel there and back and look after it like it’s my own.” She looked up at me through her dark lashes with a hopeful little smile that rivalled Bambi.

I sighed as her almond shaped eyes blinked up at me.

“Fine.” I’d never been able to say no to her.

“I don’t suppose you’d take the dogs with you too?

They’re driving me insane at the moment.

Dickens keeps bringing in muddy sticks and dumping them on the sofa.

I’ve cleared the garden of sticks, so I have no idea where he’s getting them from. ”

She giggled and looked around me. I followed her gaze to find said dog rolling around on the dark herringbone floor. When he realised we were looking at him, he stopped with his mouth open, tongue flopping out and legs tangled up.

“I don’t know, you’re not really selling a trip to Scotland with two chaotic dogs.”

“Yeah, never mind, I’ll keep them here.”

I returned to my mug. The kettle had finished boiling at some point during our conversation. I followed the motion of making the perfect cup of tea – boiling water on the teabag, stirring until dark and only a droplet of milk. “You know where the keys are. When do you plan on bringing it back?”

“I don’t have any classes until Wednesday, so Tuesday night. I’ll grab the train back to Manchester afterwards.”

I nodded and smiled at her as we finished making our respective drinks – she’d added lemon to a cold glass of water – and our conversation faded into comfortable silence.

As I stirred my tea, my thoughts returned to the night before.

Willow running past me after rejecting a proposal.

The fear in her eyes and her lungs straining for air.

Her being forced into a taxi.

His smirk at me over the roof of the car before he dropped into it.

“So, are you going to share?”

“Hm?” I snapped my head to her, before realising I was still stirring my drink. I stopped and dropped the spoon into the sink behind me, keeping the teabag in the mug to ensure my drink was as strong as an ox, just how I liked it.

“What’s on your mind?” She frowned, demanding answers.

“You’re all— ” she flailed her arms around trying to find appropriate words— “ starey and moody. You missed me saying your name like five times, so…” It was my turn for my gaze to bounce between hers, figuring out what to say. “You know I won’t give up.”

She was right. She was an angel, but a stubborn one.

I blew out a puff of air I’d been holding in since last night, and spilled my worries and concerns, only pausing to sip my tea.

Her face travelled through frustration, worry, and confusion.

They were similar to mine, as I was sure I was missing pieces of the puzzle.

Frannie knew about as much as I did about Willow – sweet fuck all and I felt incredibly guilty that I’d never paid more attention to Willow’s life.

“So, they’ve been together – what, years? And she rejected his proposal in public ?”

Despair and confirmation presented itself in a big sigh from the depths of my chest, a sharp nod and fingers through my messy hair.

“I couldn’t even tell you how long they’ve been together, I’m that shit of a boss.” Frannie moved to interrupt me with a scowl, but I stopped her with a hand to pause her inevitable speech. “No, I am. I should know basic information about my team, but with Willow, I just… don’t.”

“Maybe she didn’t want you to know.”

She'd mumbled it, but her train of thought acted as a slither of clarity. I offered a grunt as half agreement. After a short silence, both of us staring into the distance of the kitchen, I finally spoke my concerns.

“It was the fear in her eyes that replays constantly. What has he done to her to induce that kind of reaction? The shit eating grin as he forced her into the taxi - it just doesn’t sit right with me, Frannie. I can’t sit here and hope everything is okay despite believing it probably isn’t.”

“What would you do though?” I opened my mouth to answer, but nothing followed. “Seriously, you said you don’t know anything about her, I’m guessing that includes where she lives?” I shamefully dropped my head and shook, no. “Exactly, you can’t demand it from HR.”

My eyes lit up.

“Unless – unless I have a concern for her safety. A welfare check of sorts.” My mind spun, formulating a plan.

“Woah, Poirot, slow your roll.” She jabbed me in the side and snorted. “Maybe wait until Monday, see how she’s doing and check in with her.”

I nodded, which satisfied her enough that she could return to her morning routine.

Leave it until Monday. It was a reasonable suggestion. Monday was only two days.

But why did I feel two days from now would be too late?