Fractured(43)

I hung up the remaining clothes in the small pine wardrobe and then picked up a warm sheepskin jacket and scarf. I hadn’t been out of the house for days, and I needed to test my stamina if I was going to get Dad to agree to the latest plan I had in mind. However, all intentions of broaching the idea gently were blown out of the water when I descended the stairs at the very moment he was coming through the front door. He must have just been returning from his daily walk to get the morning paper. He was quick, but so was I, and I still had time to see the small red carton that he hastily tried to stuff into his jacket. Diving into his deep pocket like a missile, my fingers closed about the small container and thrust it out.

‘What in the hell are these?’

My dad looked shamefaced and said nothing; I could see various explanations trolling through his mind: each one failing to pass muster and be offered up.

‘What in God’s name are you smoking again for? Don’t you know these things will kill you? That they were killing you?’

If either of us had stopped to consider the incongruity of the complete parent/child role reversal we were currently acting out, then we would probably have burst out laughing there and then. Only I was too angry to see it and he was too embarrassed.

I crushed the packet in my hand, rendering at least this one pack unsalvageable, and with the breaking of the cigarettes within, my anger too began to crumple.

‘Dad, I know what you’re doing and why you’re doing it, but you have to promise me that you’ll stop.’

He didn’t apologise but he did at least try to explain.

‘I’ve just been so worried about you, Rachel. You’ve been so lost and I feel so useless not being able to help you. It was just a little something to cope with the stress, that’s all.’

‘Don’t, Dad,’ I said, tears rolling down my cheeks at hearing my own father sound so broken down with concern. I brushed the salty flow away with the back of my hand – God, when had I become such a cry baby?

I took both his hands in mine and tried to put into my words and eyes all that I had felt when he had first been diagnosed.

‘Dad, if you love me, if you really love me, please promise me you’ll never touch this poison again?’ His eyes too began to mist. Now I’d made my own father cry, but if it stopped this happening all over again, then it was worth it. ‘You half killed yourself with these from worrying over me once before; I won’t let you do it again.’


I walked around for hours and although I had nowhere in particular to go, it still felt good to be back outside after the inactivity of the last week. I’d told Dad not to worry, and I phoned to check in with him after a couple of hours, just so he knew I was OK. It was mid-afternoon by then, and I realised that somehow along the way I had missed lunch. As I wasn’t far from the centre of town, I headed towards the small parade where there were a few restaurants and coffee shops.

I was hesitating on the pavement, trying to decide which one to choose, when a voice behind me spoke softly in my ear.

‘The one on the end does the best cheesecake.’

I turned around, telling myself the increase in my heartbeat was just because he had startled me.

‘And what if I don’t like cheesecake any more?’

He stopped as though to consider this absurdity.

‘No. Never happen. Whatever else you’ve forgotten, it won’t be that. Some things just go too deep.’

Somehow, by mutual agreement, we entered the small coffee house where Jimmy placed an order for coffees and two slices of cake. There was a table set for two towards the back of the shop beside an open log fire, and we headed over to claim it, both unconsciously rejecting several vacant ones by the front windows.

‘So how come you’re not at work today, Constable Boyd? It’s no wonder that crime is rife in this town – none of the policemen are ever on duty.’

‘It’s actually Inspector Boyd, and I am now officially off duty for the day.’

‘Inspector, eh, that sounds important. Do you enjoy it? You never said anything about wanting to become a policeman when we were younger.’

The waitress arrived with our order and he waited until she had placed the cups and plates before us and left before replying.

‘Yes. I love the job. Joining the force was the best decision I ever made. And as for never saying anything about it… Well, I kept a lot of things to myself back then; things that perhaps I should have said out loud.’

My stomach gave a flip. I felt like he was about to tell me something, something big. But something deep inside me resisted. Not knowing how to proceed down that avenue; not even sure if I wanted to, I chose an abrupt change of topic.