Page 16 of Tribute Act
“I only got to Porthkennack earlier today. I came over this afternoon actually, but no one was in, so I thought I’d come back later. Leave it late enough to make sure you’d be at home this time.”
Mum patted his hand and said warmly, “Well, we’re really glad you came, aren’t we, Derek?”
“Yes, of course. Listen, Dylan—” But before Derek could go on, Mack was speaking over him.
“Dad—let’s cut to the chase here, okay? You wrote to me for a reason. You wanted to know if I could help Rosie.” He glanced at Rosie here, offering her a small smile. She stared back, wary and fearful, like she was scared to hope.
“We’re the same blood group, you and I,” he told her. “According to Dad, that means I might be able to donate some of my liver to you.” He paused, adding more softly, “And if I can, I will.”
Rosie covered her mouth with her hand. A moment later, a sob broke out of her, a pained, raw sound that made my throat ache. Mum started crying again too, while Derek covered his face with his hands.
Mack glanced around, plainly uncomfortable with all the emotion, and the death grip Mum still had on his hand. I caught his eye and gave him a nod, mouthing Thank you at him, before going to Rosie, lifting her up right out of her chair—even at fifteen she was small and light as a child—and sitting back down with her in my lap while she sobbed her relief against my shoulder.
I wasn’t sure if my attempt at reassurance had helped Mack at all, but he didn’t get up, or try to leave, which was something. He sat quietly while Mum composed herself and found her voice again.
“Dylan, love, you . . . you can’t imagine what this means to us—we’ll never be able to thank you.” She drew in a long, quivery breath. “Of course, you’ll have to be tested before we can know for sure whether you can be a donor, but we can get that arranged straightaway.”
Mack nodded. “Yeah. I understand.” He glanced at Derek, who stood watching, tense and tight-lipped, then at Rosie, whose sobs were quieting as I rubbed slow, comforting circles on her back.
Derek cleared his throat then. “Dylan, listen, I am glad you came. I just—” He broke off, seeming lost as to what to say. “I just wasn’t sure what you’d make of my letter, and I’ve wanted to get back in touch for so long—”
Abruptly, Mack tugged his hand free from Mum’s grasp and stood up, facing his dad. “Can we not do this? I’m not here for a reunion, Dad. I’m just here to help my sister if I can. That’s all.”
He didn’t say it harshly—if anything, he sounded desperate—but Derek went white and fell silent. Mack immediately turned his attention back to Mum, and it occurred to me that, despite how emotional she was, she was probably the easiest one of us for him to cope with. He plainly didn’t want to speak to Derek and didn’t seem to know what to make of Rosie. As for me, well, having me in the room probably wasn’t making things any easier. Not if he felt as unbalanced as I did by seeing him again.
“Look, this is a lot for me to take in,” Mack said, rubbing the back of his neck. “And not just me—all of us. Why don’t we all sleep on it, yeah? I’ll come back tomorrow and we can talk about the arrangements for me to get tested.”
Mum got to her feet slowly. “You’re going?” she said, her dismay palpable. “But . . . aren’t you staying with us?”
Mack shook his head. “I’ve got a B&B.”
“Oh, but there’s no need for that,” Mum protested. “We’ve got a spare room.”
“Um, no offence,” Mack said, taking a step backwards, “but I kind of need some space right now. You probably do too.”
“Okay,” Mum said reluctantly. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, love. But maybe we could have your number? I’ll write down ours for you.” She scurried off to fetch paper and a pen and was soon back with a list of numbers. “That’s the landline,” she said, pointing to the top one, as though Mack wouldn’t be able to tell a landline from a mobile number. “Plus mine and Derek’s mobiles. And Jonathan’s too. If you can’t get hold of either of us, call Jonathan. He always knows where we are—better than we do ourselves usually!” She gave a strained laugh and looked at me. “Isn’t that right, love?”
“Jonathan,” Mack repeated and glanced at me.
“Most people call me Nathan,” I explained, my gaze firm on him. “Mum’s the only one who insists on calling me by my Sunday name.”
He nodded, meeting my eyes. “Most people call me Mack.”
I didn’t know if that exchange meant anything to Mack, but to me, it meant something. It meant that the honesty I’d felt between us last night hadn’t been fake. And somehow, it settled me, knowing that. That Dylan was still Mack.
In that moment, I knew he’d always be Mack to me.
Mack dropped his gaze first, tucking the list of numbers into his pocket and rattling his own number off for Mum.
“So,” he said, once she had it down, “I’ll head off now. Give you some peace.”
Mum grimaced at that remark, though she managed to salvage a weak smile at the last moment. “I’ll give you a lift to your B&B if you like, love, which one is it?”
“You don’t need to do that,” Mack said quickly. “It’s just ten minutes from here on the seafront, and I could do with the fresh air, to be honest.”
“Okay,” Mum said. She was wearing her brave face, but she was plainly anxious and I knew why. She was worried Mack was going to go back to his B&B and change his mind. Decide he wasn’t inclined to help his estranged dad’s other family after all. And really, why should he? What had Derek ever done for him? What had any of us?
Gently, I shifted, murmuring in Rosie’s ear, “I need to take care of something for Mum, okay?” She nodded and stood, letting me up, her gaze fixed on Mack.