Chapter Fifteen
Seren
The Shedservatory is a little warmer than the garden tonight, but not much. I’ve crunched across the frozen lawn to get here and now I heft the stack of blankets and extra jumpers I’ve brought with me under one arm as I close the door. From the small mezzanine level I can see Dad wrapped in the old blue wool blanket, peering through the sight of Clarabell, his beloved telescope.
‘Hey, Dad.’
He peers down and the winter moonlight glints in his smile. ‘Evening, stargirl. Coming up?’
Telling Aggie today was supposed to be the easy bit. But her reaction shook me so much I put off the big conversation all day. I can’t avoid it any longer. There’s no way I can go to sleep until I’ve talked to Dad. I need to know what he thinks.
Molly yawns in her makeshift bed by my feet and gives my hand a lazy lick. Dad has wrapped the raggediest strand of green tinsel I’ve ever seen around her box and it makes her sneeze when her nose brushes the strands. I sneak her the dog biscuit I’ve hidden in my sleeve and head up the ladder.
‘I brought hot choc,’ I say, sliding onto the bench seat beside Dad and handing him the flask.
‘Marvellous.’ Dad unscrews the lid and takes a long sniff. ‘Seren May MacArthur, is there alcohol in here?’ His mock horror is one of my most favourite things.
‘Well, there’s a funny story about that . . .’
‘I think you should confess it all, immediately.’
I giggle then, unable to keep the pretence in the face of Dad’s comedy performance. And even though we have played this scene out countless times before, I repeat the lines as if I’m saying them for the first time. ‘You see, I happened to be passing the drinks cupboard on my way here and – would you believe it – a rather significant tot of Christmas Baileys just happened to tumble into the flask.’
Dad slaps a hand to his forehead. ‘How terrible! It must be the fabled Ninja-trained Baileys at work. Dastardly stuff. The way I see it, we have only one option.’ He gives a dramatic glance over his shoulder and says in a stage whisper, ‘We must destroy the evidence, quickly!’
Pact made, we pour the chocolate into two old RNLI mugs Dad keeps in the Shedservatory. I pull on a sweater over my hoodie and hand another to Dad, who tuts when I ask to snuggle up beside him; but he wraps his arm around me as soon as I do. With the old blue wool blanket snugly around our shoulders, we gaze up through the hatch into the clear night sky.
I love it here. So many important conversations (and numerous unimportant ones) have taken place in the tiny shed observatory Dad built in our garden. We put the world to rights here, or just sit in glorious companionable silence, with the stars above us and Molly’s contented snoring drifting up from the floor below.
Another important conversation is approaching now, rolling towards us like mist across the sea. But it feels so safe, so perfect here right now that I don’t know if I want to say anything until the words appear.
‘Dad, I have to tell you something.’
He looks over the rim of his chipped mug. ‘Mm-hmm?’
I take a breath. ‘I’ve been offered a job.’
‘Where?’ I swear he knows already, the hint of resignation in his voice impossible to miss.
‘Falmouth.’ I let the name hang in the frosted air. ‘Do you remember Alastair from Grafyx?’
‘The hipster chap? Drainpipe jeans and a ginger beard?’
‘That’s the one.’ I smile, but my nerves are jangling.
‘You liked him.’
‘I did. Still do, actually. He turned up at the lantern workshop last week and then I had dinner with him on Friday night. He’s offered me a job working in his new business.’
He nods, but in the limited light I can’t tell what he’s thinking. ‘Same thing as before?’
‘More interesting.’ I feel like I’m apologising already. This isn’t going as well as I’d hoped. ‘Better. More multimedia, exciting new technologies – things I’d love to work with.’
‘Would you be able to commute from here?’
‘It’s possible, but . . . Al’s offered me room and board in his house.’
That slow nod again. A long sip of chocolate. And a breath exhaled like silvery twists up into the night. ‘Go for it, stargirl.’
‘I haven’t said yes yet . . .’
Dad’s shoulder nudges mine. ‘But you want to. So you should.’
‘But MacArthur’s . . .’
‘. . . will be fine. A bit quieter, admittedly, but there’s always Radio 4 to keep me company.’
‘And what about you, Dad?’
‘He’ll be okay, too.’ He chuckles, but I can’t help noticing the tiredness in his eyes, where dark smudges meet the wrinkles underneath; the deeper furrows in his brow; the hollowness in his cheeks . . . ‘Don’t look at me like that, Seren, you’re worse than your mother for worrying.’
‘But I do worry. I don’t want to leave you if you need me.’
‘And I don’t want to keep you when you want to be somewhere else. You shouldn’t be babysitting me, kid. Between your mother and Lou I’ll be more than supervised.’ He squeezes my hand beneath the blanket we share. ‘Follow your heart, stargirl. Seeing you doing something you love will be the best tonic for me.’
My heart is hammering in my chest. ‘Dad, are you sure?’
He smiles in the moonlight. ‘I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t. Be happy. That’s all I want.’