Page 79 of The Summer That Changed Us

‘Listen to him,’ Josie huffed. ‘Gives us all the fright of our lives, coughing his guts up, wheezing like a strangled mule, drenched in sweat and now, sits there like a contented Buddha when he could have died. Died, for pity’s sake!’

‘Is it being so cheerful that keeps you going?’ said Brian, winking at Katie.

Katie laughed, letting out the tension which had built and built since her mum’s phone call.

‘I’m the one needing oxygen,’ Josie retorted. ‘I’ve half a mind to make him budge over and give me a go in bed.’

‘Now there’s a challenge,’ said Brian. He laughed, which turned into a coughing fit and Katie poured him some water from a jug by his bed.

‘Oh, you,’ Josie chuckled.

Katie smiled, used to their banter. The two of them had been inseparable since they were fourteen. Brian used to skive off school to go and visit her in their dinner break, sharing a kiss and a cheese sandwich through the schoolyard fence.

‘Now you’re here to watch him, I’ll go and fetch us a cup of tea,’ said Josie, standing up and pulling at Brian’s blankets for no other reason than to feel useful. ‘And notice I didn’t say a nice cup of tea. But needs must. Three teas, no sugar?’

Katie and her dad nodded and watched Josie leave the ward before grinning at each other.

‘Ahhh, peace at last.’ Her dad closed her eyes.

‘She loves you,’ said Katie with a pang, thinking how lucky he was. Her mind slipped to Grace, who’d loved Myles and believed he’d loved her, and Robyn, who was starting to doubt Finn’s love for her. Thank goodness for Mum and Dad and their enduring love for one another. There were happy endings in the world; her parents were proof of that. She leaned in to whisper to him. ‘Are you really all right, Dad? You’re not just saying it for Mum’s benefit?’

‘I’m a lot better for seeing you.’ Brian squeezed her hand, his breath shallow. ‘But I don’t think I’ll be strong enough to see you get your award next week. I’m gutted about it.’

He absolutely wouldn’t make it. She and Mum had even discussed it on the phone last night. And Mum wouldn’t come without him, not while he was ill. Katie nodded, sad that her parents wouldn’t be there to cheer her on, but relieved he was being sensible about it. ‘I’ll take lots of pictures,’ she promised.

His eyes shone with tears. ‘Oh, kiddo. I don’t know where you get your brains, but I’m happy to take the credit.’

She smiled at him. He hadn’t called her kiddo for years. Suddenly she was a teenager again and she remembered all the other times he’d said those exact words. Both her parents had been so proud of her achievements: every glowing school report, every sporting medal, any certificate she brought home, Josie and Brian had celebrated them all. At the time she’d been mildly embarrassed by their constant praise. Now she realised how lucky she was.

‘Thanks, Dad, but in this case Auntie Jean should probably take the credit; she taught me all I know about the business.’

From nowhere, her throat tightened. She missed her aunt. Grief was always with her but sometimes, like now, it was sharp and cutting, like a stone in her shoe.

A quick glance at her dad told her that he felt the same. A tear was trickling down his cheek and she looked away, not wanting to embarrass him. Instead, she opened her bag and began taking out the treats she’d brought: Turkish delight, Dad’s favourite; a carton of fruit smoothie, because he didn’t eat fruit, but would just about countenance fruity drinks; a puzzle book for them to bicker over; and a copy of a posh magazine for Mum who liked looking at the jobs in the back, marvelling at the sort of money people must have if they could afford a full time, live-in dog walker.

She tore open the Turkish delight and handed him a small piece.

‘Have you written a speech?’ he asked, touching the end of his tongue to the powdered sugar.

She shook her head. ‘Not yet. I’ve tried but it felt like showing off, as if I’m assuming I’m going to win.’

‘Look at it like this. You’re already a winner because you’ve made it onto the shortlist but if your name gets called out on the night, you’ll want to make the most of your moment in the spotlight. Write what you want to say and practise in the mirror. If you don’t need the speech, at least you’ll have had the experience of writing one for next time. And whether you win or not, you’ve made your old dad very proud.’

He curled his hand around hers and she nodded, swallowing down the ball of emotion in her throat.

‘I’m glad I’ve made you proud eventually,’ she said gruffly. ‘When I dropped out of uni, I let you down. You and Mum were so looking forward to me going away to study. I remember how you used to boast to all your friends.’

‘Oh, love,’ Dad said softly. ‘You didn’t let anyone down. It was a tough time for me when you were applying for university, I admit; I wanted to keep you at home, safe under my roof where I could keep an eye on you. And I was worried I’d lose you; you’d have been living in a world much grander than the one you’d grown up in, mixing with clever people who use big words that I can’t even spell.’

‘I’d have been the same person inside, Dad, and I’d love you just the same,’ she said, stroking his hand. ‘Besides, sometimes the people with the most letters after their names are the ones who do the most stupid things.’

‘Don’t get me started on the politicians.’ He gave a wheezy laugh and gestured to his water.

She held the glass up for him and he took a sip.

‘Well anyway,’ he continued, ‘it turned out that I hadn’t kept you safe at all. When all that photoshoot business happened, I felt like I’d let you down. I hadn’t protected my little girl. When Jean suggested having you to stay in Merle Bay, part of me was relieved that you didn’t go away to university. Your mum felt the same.’

Katie shook her head, amazed; all these years she’d felt guilty for not living up to their expectations. ‘I can’t believe how naïve I was,’ she said. ‘Thinking I could make enough money to see me through uni.’