Dad? Mary called out as she dashed up the curved flight of marble stairs, polished bannisters gleaming in the late afternoon sun pouring in through a glass dome. The dome was the singular gift of a show-off architect with more taste for spectacle than practicality, but Mary trekked up it every day regardless. What on earth are you doing here?
There, in front of the door, sat a man atop a battered suitcase striped navy jumper, once-imposing navy jacket, and trousers several sizes too big.
Trousers seem to have grown, or perhaps Ive shrunk the sailor chuckled, shaking a trouser leg mournfully. Thats how it is, love
His shoes, once military-shiny, now wore the dust and scuffs of a thousand steps. Mary always looked at peoples feet first, a professional habit, but she didnt realise her father was limping until he stood, making a polite almost theatrical show of bowing.
He was leaning heavily on his right leg, thinner than ever. And what remained of the proud Captain Smolan the man shed grown up frightened of and desperately wanting to impress was now mostly his uniform, which seemed to wear him, not the other way round. Mary couldnt help but feel a mild flicker of satisfaction, which made her feel a bit monstrous.
So why are you here then? With your suitcase and all that she nodded at the battered bag It wouldve been nice to call first at least!
Wasnt planning to barge in, Mary love. Didnt want to intrude on you know your family and all that, said Andrew William Smolan, once captain of Trent River Cruises and Marys father. He looked sheepish, a look shed never quite seen on him. But its just how its turned out
Yes, Dad, Ive got my family. My very own, Mary replied, giving him her signature unimpressed look. But youd best come in and explain yourself, since youre already here.
Andrew William walked in, limping more heavily than hed like, and parked his suitcase on the hallway rug. He tried to do his old act arms out, chest inflated, breathing in that familiar home smell with a showmans sigh but there was barely room for Mary at the door with her shoes half-kicked off, let alone for a grand entrance. Her sandals buckle wouldnt budge, and she fumbled with shaking hands. The place was a tip: Dan and little Robbie had slept in, scrambled about, left chaos in their wake. Mary meant to tidy after her shopping trip and hairdressers appointment, but now, of all times, her father had to see it. She felt a jab of shame as if she were twelve again.
Mary! What kind of mess is this? Your room is a reflection of you, you know! Books on the floor, and what are all these silly drawings? Andrew William, younger then, glorious dark curls untouched by grey, would roar with his parade-ground voice over little Mary, skinny and ponytailed. Five minutes to tidy up before inspection! And the bed look at it! Would you see that on my ship? Remember, youre the daughter of a captain, not of Sid the plumber from Number 7! Pull yourself together, please!
Back then, Mary wanted nothing more than to be Sid the plumber’s daughter. To have plainer parents, to shrug and sleep late, to dance to whatever music she liked, have over whichever friends took her fancy, not just approved guests for the Captains house. But she was Andrew Williams, whether she liked it or not.
The bed had to be made with military precision; breakfast in full kit was non-negotiable, and lounging or merely malingering was forbidden.
There was absolutely no dossing about on Andrew Williams boat and by gum, there would be none in his house either.
Oh, Andy, shes only nine! Lay off the child! sometimes mum, Liz, would intervene, though mostly, shed just give Mary a soothing squeeze and a dont-wind-your-father look.
Liz Captains wife, not the plumber Sids from Number 7, must remember to act accordingly, eh? She would get bollocked as well: clothes left across a chair, forgotten undies when important colleagues were due round for drinks
Come to think of it, Sid the Plumber once courted Liz, brought her flowers, took her dancing on the riverside, before Liz swapped him for Andrew after a river cruise and a terribly romantic snapshot.
Youll just throw me out, will you? growled Sid one misty autumn day.
Yes. The heart wants what it wants, Liz said and shut the door on him.
Andrew in uniform was a right catch: all Lizs friends said so. Their wedding was at a small riverside restaurant in Nottingham, full of Andrews colleagues and a smattering of Lizs friends. There was singing and dancing, but Andrew closed festivities sharp: Time to go, dear, weve got work in the morning.
Liz, a bit tipsy and pink from bubbly, wrapped her arms around his neck and pouted But its our wedding
No backchat, Andrew would say with a shake of his head much to his father Victors delight. Victor, proper proud and puce-faced from whisky, would brag to all, “Thats my lad, a born leader! You can see it in him, cant you?”
Neighbours nodded and shook his hand; only Lizs friends turned grumpy too much envy? Or was it just that the party ended too soon?
Everyone drifted home, as newlyweds should.
Then, three years later, Mary was born. Andrew was away on a business trip a cruise, naturally and missed the birth.
Youll have to fend for yourself, Lizzie! Youre the Captains wife, pull yourself together! Andrew would shout down the phone, while Liz twisted his old jumper in her trembling hands.
Liz was terrified she was barely grown herself, and now she had a baby.
Here, Liz, come on, Ill help you. Lean on me, dont be daft It was Sid, popping by to check on her, finding her crying on the doorstep, mid-contraction, with the door wide open.
Andrew had strictly ordered the baby not be born without him. Liz tried to wait, but time and babies have their own ideas. Still, Andrew insisted on checking in, and the nurses found his phone calls as exhausting as his presence.
Neighbours whispered: With a husband like that, bet she doesnt dare lie in bed long, poor thing
And so it went, Mary received much the same leadership and bolted for marriage at nineteen, if only for the freedom. Her dad objected, wanting cohabitation for the familys sake, but Liz had other plans. She wangled a flat for her and her daughter near her own job, as Andrew was land-bound by then supervising ships from an office and Mary inherited Lizs old family home, complete with its glorious staircase and Sid the plumber still next door.
I wont have it! Parties and cheap wine, thats all they think about these days! thundered Andrew when he heard about the move. This is our home, and thats the way itll stay. Theyll carry me out of here in a box, understood? And Mary will live with us!
Liz just rolled her eyes and muttered, You arrived with one battered suitcase and a new jacket, thats all. This flat is mine. Enough playing Navy. If you dont like it, go back to your parents.
Andrew gaped, then slumped, his authority vanishing with his newspaper tossed aside.
Sit down, Captain! Youll just have to accept it, Mary has her own life now, Liz insisted. And youre not the army, Andrew. This is just a normal life, not a parade ground.
Maybe Liz had always been tougher than he realised.
Over the years, what once seemed like badges of pride Im married to a Captain! felt more like shackles. Endless business trips, rigid routines, everything to a schedule. Who needed that? When Mary married, Liz realised she hadnt loved Andrew for ages, and soon left him, too.
Mum how could you? What about Dad? Hell end up on our doorstep! Mary, now expecting, would whisper panicked.
Dont let him! Its your life, sort it out as you want. Ive had enough, Liz was firm. Busybodies and lectures Im off.
And, astonishingly, Dad didnt turn up after that. He didnt even ask how Mary felt during her pregnancy. She found out hed retired from his river job and gone somewhere else.
He saw his grandson Robbie just twice in all those years, and Mary could still taste the lectures: discipline Robbie, breastfeed this way and not that, Dan ought to get a proper job, and so on. And, naturally, the state of the house: Youve turned our family home into a pigsty, Mary!
That last visit had ended with Mary standing her ground.
Leave. Now. Ive no idea how I turned out this normal, and I refuse to let you mess up Robbie! You did in Mum, and now you want to do in me? Out! I dont want to see you!
Andrew was so shocked that he couldnt speak, and left without another word.
Since then, brief calls, the odd card, money she never touched, lest it make her beholden.
And here he was today, shrunken, older, a shadow of his old self.
Fancy some food? I can put something on, offered Mary, but Dad caught her wrist gently.
She pulled away.
They put me out to pasture, love, Dad sighed No more cruising, no more office either. Thought Id stay with you for a while. I dont have much stuff, I can just use the camp bed. Thats it
Mary poured herself a glass of water and choked on her own surprise.
No, Dad. Absolutely not. You have your own place. Mum saw to that, and more importantly, we have our own lives. Dont start, she cut him off as he opened his mouth. We havent got the space. Its all full. Youre being daft.
She thumped a frying pan onto the hob, determined to feed him and send him back into history where he belonged.
Thank God she didnt live with him.
Dan was the first to propose, and shed clung to him like a life raft. Did she love him? Who knows. But theyd stuck, become two trees with roots entwined, and that was enough.
Dad was now just superfluous.
I could use the little box room Andrew suggested.
No, you cant. Thats full of jam jars give it up! Mary nearly shrieked Here, eat this. Ill call you a taxi.
She didnt ask about his bad leg, or his doctors visits. He never asked about her home life, so why should she care?
Andrew tucked in with the desperation of a starving puppy. Table manners, once impeccable, had vanished. Mary peered at him, frowning.
Oh, sorry, forgot. You like your gravy separate. Sadly, were not serving at the Ritz, she snarked.
Its lovely, honestly. Mary he reached for her hand; she recoiled and started making the tea.
There was nothing to offer, except for last years gooseberry jam, which she dug out from the back of the cupboard.
Open it, she ordered, adopting his old commanding bark Go on, then! Back in your day, youd open these with one hand.
After a battle with the jar, she managed to wedge the lid loose and immediately sliced her finger.
Oh, for goodness sake! Just WHY are you here? she snapped, throwing the opener in the sink.
You should clean that and bandage it, Mary. Its bleeding he jumped up, worried.
I can manage, eat your food before it gets cold.
She tried with one hand, and in the end he helped, blowing on the cut as if she were five again.
Hurts, doesnt it? he said softly.
Itll heal. Tea? she said, raising her eyebrow as if she didnt care.
She remembered the one time her mum cut herself; Dad hadnt even come to the kitchen.
Now
Mary, Ive nowhere else to go Andrew muttered, staring at the tablecloth, knuckles white.
What? You have your flat! Mum made sure of it, Mary replied, sceptical.
No, she just left me in it. Now she wants me out: says Im ill, and wants me gone. Didnt Mum mention it? Andrew looked up, tired.
Mary shook her head.
She said nothing. Whats wrong with you? What do you mean, shes chucking you out? What are you ill with?
Old age, Mary. The usual. Couldnt take to the stairs, legs packed in hospital say I need an op but theres a waiting list unless I go to London, and they tell me Im too much of a risk, heart and all that. Been at the train station three nights now. Ashamed, really. Hide when I see anyone I know. Mary could I at least have a bath?
Mary shrugged fine, he could use the bath.
While her dad groaned and clattered about the bathroom, Mary rang her mother.
Liz took forever to pick up and sounded bored when she finally did.
Oh, you, Mary. Hello
Youve chucked Dad out, Mum! Now hes here wanting to live with us. Whats going on? And whats with his leg? Why wont your Slavic sorry, your new partner help with the doctors? Doesnt he work for the NHS?
Mary, Slavic has enough going on, thanks. And your father had his family flat, but sold it for a daft garden plot, which gave us years of grief. Not my problem. I need the flat for Slavics boy and his girlfriend, theyre having a baby. Where are they meant to live? Dad will cope, he always does.
That my flat, which had been wrestled out of council hands as the Captains wife, was, thanks to a technicality, under her name. Andrew had thought it generous. Now, well
Mum, you cant just put him on the street! Come and get him! I dont want him here, I just dont!
Mary wanted to say her father was old and she pitied him not that shed admit it.
Sorry love, thats all sorted now! Give my love to Dan and Robbie! Ring me at the weekend! With that, Liz rang off.
Then came a crash. Mary dashed to the bathroom.
Dad! Dad, whats happening in there?! she pounded on the door.
Nothing Just slipped, came the muffled reply. A moment later, she thought she heard him weep.
Its a rotten luck, getting old.
The person who finally got Dad sorted wasnt Mary but Sid the plumber, who she ran into on the stairs and blurted everything out to. Sid sized things up, went straight to the flat, took down the skinny bathroom door, and nearly carried Andrew out.
Foot went, couldnt catch myself. Sorry about the towels Dad mumbled, crushed.
You need ice on that, and a proper rest! Sid barked. Mary, stop gawping and find something frozen for the swelling!
Mary scuttled to and fro, fetching, pouring, generally overcompensating. Sid rang the GP but Dad waved him off.
Itll be fine. I wont be any bother.
Dad, dont be daft. Just rest, Mary insisted Dan and Robbie will be back and well work something out.
After Sid left, Mary sat beside her dad, gnawing at her lip.
Cross with me? Was I too hard on you? Andrew asked at last. It was all a bit much, I admit. You know… before you came along, life with your mum wasnt all roses
You never said anything, Mary replied flatly.
No. I kept it to myself. She well, she was a bit forgetful, messy. Domestic life fell to me. Shopping, cooking, cleaning. Shed return from food shopping with anything but dinner! I tried to put up with it, for years. But in the end, I I just tried to treat everything like the navy. Thought itd work on your mum, and on you. Silly, isnt it?
Whats it got to do with me? I was only a kid! You treated me like a ships mate! Mary swiped at a stray tear. I only bolted because I couldnt bear any more. I dont want you moving in. I dont want to go back to being your midshipman.
She turned, as Dad struggled up, then, painfully, dignity clinging by a thread, got to his feet, ready to leave.
I get it, love. I do. It was stupid coming here. Sorry, Ill just go.
He shuffled towards the hallway and his suitcase.
Dad! You cant just wander off your legs done in! Am I going to be the one chucking you out, now?
Seems so, love. Fair dos I probably deserve it. Sorry.
So he heaved his little suitcase out onto the landing, swallowed hard, and made for the steps.
Thats how it all happens, he mused you try so hard to uphold discipline, to live up to expectations, and it all finishes in quiet anticlimax.
Downstairs, he bumped into Dan.
Mr Smolan? Didnt recognise you at first Already leaving? Oh, no, youre not! Ive got a watermelon and we cant eat it all without you! Dan beamed, ushering him back inside. And Robbie will be chuffed to see his granddad. Honestly, hes sick to death of us nagging on at him!
Mary was still in the hall, steeling herself. The phone call to her mother was unsatisfying as ever. Just put him in a care home, Liz suggested.
Do you not even like him, Mum? Didnt you ever? Mary whispered.
Good Lord, Mary, how could I? Hes a sergeant major! and with that, Liz hung up step-sons fiancée was expected for tea, after all.
Dad, can we just start over? Mary murmured, barely audible. Maybe it was just pity. Nobody loved him, and that just didnt seem right.
Andrew did eventually get his operation, found his feet again (often literally Robbie was forever chasing up his forgotten walking stick in the park). He became a local legend with his seafaring tales, especially to Robbie, whod never known the old Captain at all. It was a chance for a new life.
A year later, Liz turned up. She let herself in (still had a key, of course) and brushed off snow from her faux-fur coat, surveying the still-messy hallway.
Mum? Mary popped out from the kitchen, startled.
Ive come home, sort of. Well, my bit of it. Slavic and I have split men are hopeless, honestly. Anyway, clear me a room, Im not sleeping in the corridor.
She stopped short, spotting Andrew in the lounge.
Youre still here? Well, whatever, I own half. She sniffed.
Mary, already untangling her apron, came to greet her. Mum, you shouldve said you were coming! Were moving tomorrow, and your phones been off. Your Slavic said youd done a runner.
He talks rubbish, as ever. Where are you moving?
Dans being transferred to London for work, its a nice flat. Robbies coming. And Dads coming, for the clinics theyll help him. Mum, sit down, Ill make some tea, and then you can settle in. Were off at dawn
Liz finally noticed the packed suitcases, bare shelves, the whole lot.
Youre running off, then? Leaving your mother behind? What a state youve left the place in! she scolded, kicking an errant suitcase, I gave you my life, my health! And now youve taken your fathers side! Thought you left my best china, at least? And the painting? Hmm.
She made her rounds, checking, as if Mary rented the place. Well, off you go, then.
Mary didnt answer. Maybe it was true. Shed switched sides, and honestly, good. Mum had changed, or always been that way, and it was just shining through now.
Andrew had been a difficult father, but was a fantastic grandfather, as if making up for lost time, and allowing for everyones flaws including his own.
Maybe it was the operation, maybe it was Robbies energy: something thawed. Mary never regretted letting her father in. Everyone wants to be loved, after all.
Liz didnt forgive them, didnt come to the station, just huddled in her armchair, blanket drawn tight, staring out the window.
Shed now enjoy pitying herself: cast aside by the tyrant ex, the second ex, her daughter, and her grandson all gone. Her friends would sigh, shake their heads, cluck at her luck, and congratulate her on at least still owning a flat. “Well, at least youve got somewhere to ride out your old age. The rest? Ungrateful, hollow people!” Liz would retort, kicking the pile of unironed shirts and pretending to clean. It had always been the men doing housework, after all. Time to find another one but heaven forbid, no more captains. Far too high-maintenanceThe train to London was packed, but Mary barely noticed. Robbie was squished against the window, headphones on, chattering at Dan about the shape of the clouds over the rooftops. Andrew, sitting opposite, absently patted the walking stick resting in his lap. His eyes, bright and watery, were fixed on Mary. For the first time in their lives together, the silence was gentle, companionable.
You alright? Mary murmured, nudging his shoe with hers.
Andrew smiled, tight-lipped but not sad. Aye, love. Fresh start, eh? These city doctors will have me doing marathons.
Careful what you wish for, Dan interjected, grinning. Were signed up for Parkrun, remember?
Robbie burst out laughing, the delighted, unrestrained sound echoing in the carriage.
Mary watched her family no uniforms, no ranks, no clipped voices or inspections, just noisy shoes and stubborn love. The landscape blurred as fields gave way to city blocks and towers: messy, hopeful, the way families always are underneath the surface.
The train lurched. Andrew caught Marys hand and squeezed, once. All the apologies, the regrets, the things unsaidthey passed between them like a changing of the guard: silent, understood, finished.
Mary smiled. At last, the future was just that open, unplanned.
She glanced at the window, catching her own reflection framed by her fathers, and Robbies beyond. The three faces, none quite alike, layered in glass and afternoon light, moving forward together.
Behind them, the old house and its memories faded into the distance a place theyd all left, more or less, as children.
Ahead, the city swelled and sparkled, full of noise, and chance, and room for second acts. Mary squeezed her fathers hand in return, and the train rolled ever onward, into the possibility of new days.
