Lucy in the Sky

of finding somewhere for lunch. I switch my phone on to find a voicemail waiting. It’ll be James. But no, it’s Mum, asking me to call her urgently.
    She answers on the first ring. ‘Lucy…’
    ‘What’s up?’
    ‘I’ve got some bad news.’
    ‘What?’ I’m hesitant.
    ‘Lucy…your father’s dead.’
    ‘Not Terry?’ I gasp, and Nathan looks across at me, sharply.
    ‘No,’ she says quickly. ‘Terry’s fine. Your real father.’
    ‘What happened?’ I sink down onto a park bench.
    My father was still in Manchester; he lived and died an alcoholic. The neighbours alerted the police when the flat started to reek of his decaying body. He’d been dead over a week before they broke in and found him. The police didn’t know who to call as dad had no immediate family left. In the end they traced his wife from over twenty years ago. My mum.
    It’s the weirdest sensation. I don’t feel sad. I don’t want to cry. I feel oddly detached. I sit there looking down the hill at one of the almost-bare trees and find myself wondering how long it will be before the next leaf falls off. Five seconds…Twelve seconds…That one took a whopping thirty-two seconds.
    ‘Lucy…’ Nathan says tentatively. He reaches down and takes my hand and I let him hold it.
    Twenty-two seconds…
    ‘Lucy,’ he tries again. ‘Talk to me.’
    I can’t look at him. I just keep staring down at the trees. I picture my father dead and buried in one of the tombs that we’ve just been looking at:
     
    Joe McCarthy … Father of one …
     
    I didn’t want to see my dad again. Not now, maybe not ever. But that was my choice. Now that choice has been taken away from me, and the realisation is shocking.
    ‘I must go to the funeral,’ I say tonelessly.
    ‘Of course,’ Nathan says. ‘Of course.’
    ‘I should call James.’ He lets go of my hand and I dial James’s mobile. He doesn’t pick up. I hang up and try again. Voicemail. It’s then that I start to cry.
    Nathan takes me in his arms and holds me tight, while I sob into his warm shoulder. I shift, trying to get closer to him, but I can’t, side by side on this bench. It’s so frustrating.
    ‘Come on,’ Nathan says gently. ‘I’ll take you home.’
    I don’t want him to let me go, but he does.
    He finds a place to park outside our terraced-lined street and unbuckles his seat belt. I stay seated.
    ‘Lucy?’ He comes around to the passenger door, opening it and taking my hand to help me out. He holds it the whole way up three flights of stairs. At the top he takes my handbag from me and finds my keys, then unlocks the door.
    The flat is silent. James must still be with Zoe.
    I sit there, while Nathan makes me tea, wondering why my copy of Bridget Jones’s Diary has been put back on the DVD shelf upside down, and notice that there’s a ring on the coffee table where James or I must have forgotten to use a coaster.
    Nathan puts a mug of tea in front of me. He sits down and takes my hand again.
    ‘Lucy, I’m worried about you,’ he says. ‘Let me try James again?’ I nod slowly. He gets my phone out of my bag and presses redial. After a while he hangs up and tries again.
    ‘Don’t worry,’ I tell him. ‘It’s okay. He’ll be back when he’s back.’
    Nathan looks at me, relieved to hear me talking. ‘When’s the funeral?’ he asks.
    ‘Tuesday.’
    ‘Wow, that’s quick.’
    ‘He died three weeks ago. They’ve been trying to trace his family.’ My voice sounds vacant.
    ‘Is it in Manchester? Will James go with you?’ he asks.
    I nod to both questions.
    ‘Good. But if he can’t,’ he says, ‘for whatever reason, let me know and I’ll drive you.’
    ‘Thank you. That’s really kind.’ I turn to look at him for the first time since Mum’s phone call and my eyes well up again.
    ‘It’s okay,’ he soothes. ‘It’s okay.’
    I lie down and rest my head across his lap and he strokes my hair while my breathing slows.
     
    ‘What the hell’s going on here?’ At the sound of James’s voice, Nathan and I jolt awake. We must’ve fallen asleep again. Oh, Christ.
    James is looking down at us accusingly. Nathan gets up but James doesn’t move back to make room for him and for a split second it appears James is going to square up to him.
    ‘My dad died!’
    ‘What?’ James pushes past Nathan to get to me.
    ‘My dad died,’ I tell him again.
    ‘Baby,’ he says, taking me in his arms.
    ‘I couldn’t get hold of you!’ I cry.
    ‘I’m