The Most Beautiful Thing In My Life (CH 7)

     **THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IN MY LIFE**

 🌞 Frankton Park was relatively quiet for a Friday afternoon.  Although the vast coloured flower beds were singing summer, for May it was bright but particularly cold. Neil felt it wise to put on a long winter coat.  He didn't mind meeting outdoors at a coffee bar - whatever surroundings she felt were congenial.

   Enthusiasts brought a  mass of remote controlled sailing ships to the lake, each one a vessel of calm and this helped to hold his interest during the wait. His head kept flitting to every movement that caught his eye, and he still could hardly believe exactly who he was waiting on. Now ten minutes late, he was starting to consider a possible change of mind on her part. Punctuality was rather an obsession with him, and in his line of work he hated being the one kept waiting. But this was bigger than any contract or business deal. Nothing to sign here, just hope that all goes well. 

   Then she appeared, descending from the steps close by.  A picture of pure delight; dressed in a little black cropped woollen coat with a red tartan skirt peeking an inch or two from under it, thick black tights to fend of the unexpected chill of the day, and red ankle boots with funky little key rings hanging from a metal loops at the back, finished off her outfit. She permitted her recklessly-dyed blond hair to go wherever the weather took it. Neil waited until she reached the bottom step before rising from his seat at the coffee bar to greet her.  A huge smile spread across each face the second they saw each other.

   'Hi, Dad!, she said, moving round closer to wrap him a hug - that took care of the concern (handshake, kissed cheek, distanced hello?) as to how he should welcome her!

   'Hi. How are you?'

   'Good, thanks.' 

   'Get parked okay?'  

   'Just round the corner.'

   'Good, good,' he answered, feeling a little stumped; the dialogue and questions in his head as to how the conversation may flow seemed to have taken off with the ducks. After a brief silence and some looking around till their eyes met each others again, Neil started wriggling free from the table and chairs.  'I'll, ah, get us a coffee, then ... any preferences?'

   'No, not really,' she replied, 'I drink any that ends in a vowel!'

   This made Neil's grin wider. 'A safe cappuccino, then?'

   'Safe cappuccino,' she nodded.
   The skittish smile remained on his face as he ordered their drinks, all the while telling himself that she was a strikingly beautiful girl and seemed to have a remarkably sunny nature, but it was expected at some point that circumstance would prioritize conversing and he was unsure as to how where it may lead. Naturally, he knew they both would have questions for this coming together for the first time. He laid down her drink in front of her along with some sugar sachets and plastic stirrer, not really sure where to start. But Saskia's directness dealt with that. 

   'I really was delighted you wanted us to meet. What changed your mind?'
   He took a careful sip of his coffee, rubbing away any possible froth with his bottom lip, and leaned back further in the metal seat. 'Time to think really. Took a bit of courage to look through the album you gave me. As you can imagine, the news came as a bit of a shock ... but I'm glad you left that contact number in the back page - bit of a clever touch that was!'
   'As long as you didn't find it too cheeky?' 
   'No, not at all ... and as for that Jack Daniels bit?  Spot on! A good guess?' 
   'Had a feeling it might be, I honestly did, but I asked mum if  I was right.'
   'Ah,' he said,'  'I'm surprised she still remembered my preferred tipple!' 

   'Trust me - her memory was always as sharp as a tack. I could hardly get one over on her as a kid! Of course, she's slowed down a lot at the moment - sleeping a lot. '

   His smile dropped slowly and he briefly glanced away.  'I'm really sorry about your mum,' he felt obliged to say now she'd mentioned her, she was the catalyst for them being right here, right now.

   A brief gaze landed on her polystyrene cup, then straight into his eyes as she nodded her gratitude. 'Still not fully sunk in.  You get a few brief moments after waking and then it hits you again. It was so unexpected, out of the blue. Two weeks prior to finding out for sure we were still going swimming. Mum's pretty fit for her age, but I knew something was up. She did her best to hide it. It's  taken a lot out of her, but,' she gave a little drum roll with her forefingers on the table's edge in defiance, 'we're determined to soldier on, keep daily life as normal as possible.'

   'I admire that ... still, must be tough on you too?'

   'Oh, I don't mind the physical stuff. Mum's too knackered to function at times and that can be hard to witness - it's the uncertainty that's worse. Even with the nurses and hospital clinics being really supportive and positive, I know there's a chance she might not beat it. Fear drove her to tell me about you, she was so nervous. I've never seen her cry and shake so much, begging forgiveness, and I was still a right cow to her ... '

   'Saskia,' he interrupted her before she went any further, feeling bad for asking, but it was genuine concern. 'There's no need to go over this. Really. Your mum explained it all to me. I've been a bit of a prat in trying to ignore things, myself.'

   'Dad, you don't have to apologise or anything.'

   'Yes, I do, I handled our first encounter rather harshly. It was all so staggering, I mean - becoming a dad at fifty six?' He whistled and rolled his eyes, making her laugh. 
   'Make any man run a mile!' she concluded. Those dimpled cheeks when she smiled were fetching, making her fleetingly appear younger than her twenty-seven years. 'Want to finish these coffee's and take a little walk? I love this park.'

   'Aye, then you can let me know more about you.'
   'You too!' She threw the suggestion straight back, pointing a finger at him. 'Don't think you're getting off with that, either!'

   'Sure ... if you want to be completely bored out of your nut!'

   'I was thinking that myself!' she said, and it was no sooner out than she realised it may have sounded as if she agreed with him. Rapidly, she flushed a panicky shade of red that almost matched her neck scarf!  'Oh, God, Dad, I didn't mean you, I meant me doing that to you - the same ... the boring bit, ah, thing...'

   A bemused smile crossed Neil's face, delighting in her bit embarrassment. 'I know what you meant.  Guess we're both a bit clueless at the moment.'

   'Yeah, but it's not the best of starts with my newly-found father, is it..? She gave him a fluttering glance to accompany those rosy cheeks, and he found the unintentional blunder a touching benchmark to the start of a possible new phase in his life.  'C'mon, let's see if we can do a lap of the lake without me putting my foot in it... '

      
Their stroll was taken at a very slow pace, walking side by side with a respectful gap between them. By his judgement, they seemed to be clicking. Just a few minutes in and she had him hooked by her jocular banter. 
   She used this time also to overtly-but-surreptitiously look him over, scanning certain bits of him at a time, concluding that he was not an overly handsome man. When he smiled, skin crinkled around his softly-clouding, greenish-blue eyes, and two little sickle-shaped dimples bracketed his mouth when he smiled, but that was what redeemed the rest of his ageing features that were perhaps making an appearance too soon - a consequence of hard work, no doubt.  Face; long and thin, with the beginnings of dripping jowls and his nose long and slightly squint - though you had to stare to see it - with its slight bump only showing in profile.  What captivated Saskia most was his hair still being luxuriously thick, though largely grey, with bits of black sneaking an occasional peek through unpredictable waves. This seemed to be the only unruly feature about him. 

   As they walked, he could see she certainly did had a definitive resemblance to her mother at that age. Her big green eyes sitting over parallel-line cheekbones, and the dyed blonde hair perhaps took her looks up a scale, if she naturally shared the same hair tones as her mother. Like Beverly, yes, but nowhere near as fetching. 

  During their walk, he got a thrill every time she referred to him as Dad (something she did without okaying it with him first), hoping persons passing heard. Inside he was screaming look at me, I've a daughter!  He was receptively discerning, knocked for six at the speed of this importance. Maybe there was such a thing as instant fatherly devotion. And for Saskia, the biggest relief was her unexpected aptitude in grasping his rich Scottish accent (which he used in properly pronounced words and not some unintelligible Scottish slang) as she feared she may have to pardon herself repeatedly if not.

   'So, what is it you do?'

   'Gee, where do I start?' he said, knowing he would have to use layman's terms as he didn't want to sound as if he was a pretentious (and rich) git. 

   'Property mainly. Buying, building and selling, renting out apartments, houses, offices. We also import and export building materials abroad. I also own a small advertising agency on another floor where I work. It's my mate who runs it mostly, I'm just one of the directors.' What was that he just said about pretentious gits? 'All perfectly boring.' He decided to stop there. 

   'Ooooh - you're a Jock of all trades, then?'***

   'Och,' (now that sounded very Scottish) he gave her a good-natured, chiding expression at her dig at his birthplace and resisted reminding her that she was actually half Scottish herself now.!' 

   'Just joking, Dad... couldn't resist. Sounds not that bad at all, you've not heard what I do in my spare time - it's become quite a passion, actually!'

   He frowned, intrigued. 'Go on.'

   'I take night classes ...  in woodwork.'

   'Seriously?' He didn't look convinced, and it showed with such a bushy-brow frown.

   Saskia couldn't help but laugh, it was the reaction she was used to.  'I'm serious! I couldn't quite build a shed or anything, but I love carving wood. I'm a dab hand with a rotary burr set!'   

   'I must say, I never expected to hear that!' he said slowly. 'What made you interested in such a ... blokey thing?'

   Well,' she said, with a nod of the head.  'I chose it in my last year at high school for a couple of reasons. One was because I used to get teased because of my name.'

   'Your name?'

   'Yeah. The "kia" bit of my name got me labelled  Ikea - you know, the famous Swedish wood company,' she said, rolling her eyes, 'so I thought, sod it, I'd be as well living up to my nickname somehow just to piss them off, but mostly it was because I really fancied the teacher, Mr Bruce - as did most of my friends. It was supposed to be a giggle, but I got right into it after making an egg rack! Mr. Bruce, however, lost his appeal when rumours went round that he was shagging the head of the drama department.'
   'Ah, so there was a rival in with a higher chance, then?'

   'Not really ... Mr. Kendall was head of drama - but it made us feel good that we weren't in with a shout to start with!' This made Neil laugh out loud.  'Anyway, the local council opened up free night classes every Monday and Thursday at college, so I signed up for a term. I'll only be making menial things, mind you. I've already made a jewellery box, some kitchen utensils, and this God-awful mug tree that looks more like a weapon, but, hey ... I've advanced to "things for the hall" now. Not quite sure what to choose next, it's a toss up between an umbrella stand and a shoe rack!  I get a certificate at the end, but sadly,' she feigned a huge sigh, 'there's not the remotest possibility of a romance on offer.'

   'I'm surprised, you're such a pretty girl,' he risked a compliment, and she glanced away with what looked like the beginnings of another little flush.

   So, what about you?' she asked, to ward off any awkward reaction stirring up. 'What do you like doing? 
   'Well, surprise, surprise - I play golf.' 

   'Golf? Saskia scrunched up her face and replied in single syllable segments. 'I had a fee-ling you might say that!'

   'I know, I know, the dreary typical dad thing!  But I do find it relaxing ... and I cook for myself every night.'

   'Every night?'                                                  

  'Every night I'm able.'

   'You're keen! I get sick at the sight of cream cakes and sandwiches at the tearoom, and it's usually just microwaved whatever at home!' 

   'You or your mum not into cooking then?'

   'Not so much these days. I sometimes feel bad if I hear her vomiting after meals as I don't know if it's an aftereffect of treatment or if she shuffles it down hoping it stays there, not to worry me.'

   A short silence befell them, and he didn't quite know how to react to this which she picked up on right away. 'God, Dad, I'm sorry. I promised myself I wouldn't bang on about Mum too much, don't want to make you feel awkward.'

   'No, it's me who should be apologising, it was an insensitive thing to ask, I just wasn't thinking...'

   'But, still... you shouldn't need to hear any gruesome bits.'

   He waved a hand in front of him, flicking away her words. 'Don't be daft, I don't mind. She's your mum.'

   'Yeah, I know, but she made me promise I'd give myself a break as well, focus on me for a while. That's why I'm glad to be here - even if it's only just this once.'

   A huge rush of pity and affection for her washed over him as she stood dewy-eyed, stemming tears and he wrapped his arm round her shoulder; a first time experience. He'd just been drawn into the scope of fatherly protection and didn't quite know it. They continued to walk in silence a short while, till he said, 'Shall we grab another coffee?'

   The sun appeared from behind the clouds at that precise moment, as if indicating that she was okay.       'Yeah, c'mon.' 

   He withdrew his arm as they headed back to the coffee bar, as he had this sudden fear she may find him overfamiliar too soon. 

Three young, preschool boys headed their way, all clutching dinosaur figures and imitating their loud growls, and nearly ran into them; their mother scolding the little rascals for not looking where they going.

   'So sorry,' she said in passing, 'boys and their toys, eh?'

   'Oh, I don't know, ' Saskia replied,  'I loved a good T-Rex myself when I was little!'

   'Really?' Neil said with a huge grin, forming those cheek-sickles again. He reckoned with someone so dainty it would have been rainbows and kittens all the way during her childhood. 'I was dinosaur mad myself as a boy, well until I started high school at least.' This daft insight, this past connection in common thrilled them. So, his little lost girl was into a similar liking as a child.

   'Me too! I remember mum shopping with me for tee shirts and suchlike in the boys department and pretending they were for my non-existant brother.  I had the full works, bedroom was covered with them: duvets, curtains, posters. nightlight - I sort of went from Cartoon Network to the Discovery channel overnight. Mum tried to discourage me, said I had too  sweet a face for a tomboy, but her boyfriend at the time was on my side. No way was I backing down - she had to get used to it.' 
   'Obsession is obsession, I suppose! Okay, then ... favourite?' he challenged her, raising his rather unruly brows.
   'That's easy! The Charonosaurus, they looked really graceful. I loved the crown on their heads, the way it swooped right back.'
   He was impressed. Those fellows were not very typically talked about in documentaries and books.  'Oh, yes, I remember those. So there was a hint of girliness still lingering back then?'

   Saskia playfully slapped his shoulder. 'Shh - you'll ruin my childhood street cred!' 

   They exchanged ludicrous grins, both feeling a bit giddy by their absurdity. It felt like a guilty pleasure they never wanted to expose yet having, at last, a valid chance to do so. It was fun, so they kept on.

   'Okay, then, Raptor,' she jokingly used instead of calling him Dad - since they were on the subject. 'What was your favourite?'

   'Ah, now,  I was fascinated by the Ankylosaurus.  Beauty of a beast that was, and fabulous in battle!'

   She went on to impress him even more. 'Weren't they kind of spiky, with a ... a ... ' she was gesticulating a tail coming from behind her while trying to recall them, and he found it highly amusing to imagine what it must look like to others, '... like a cannon ball on the end of its tail for whomping the enemy?'

   'That's the guy!'  

   To think one of his main worries for today was the inability to bond, and never in a million Triassic years reckoned dinosaur-talk would have a strong pulling bind. Any fear at not being able to think up cherry small talk was quelled five minutes after meeting. Words were no problem for her, she swam through them effortlessly, and he was lapping up every minute of their balmy ramblings.  

       

  
In the sky, the wind was bullying a few clouds around, while a bitterness snapped at their faces as they walked. The smell of his strong cologne, one that she couldn't place (as it was too expensive for her nose to have previously sniffed), helped to mask the smell of damp wood chips enclosing the seating area.

   Sitting back down at their previous table, replenished with welcoming hot coffees, (which she insisted she paid for - rich dad or not) time neared for her to go: it had zoomed by by way of success.

   'Dad, can I ask you something? I know it was a while ago, but I'm curious.' 
   'Ask away.'
   'Did you love Mum?'

   'Yes. I loved your mum very much at one time. We were pretty serious, it just wasn't meant to be.
   'Do you think you'd still be with her if she'd told you about me?' It was at this point that Saskia realised he had a habit of checking his nails a lot - particularly at more awkward moments.
   He gave a long, reflective look at the yachts over the lake again. 'I don't think your mum or I could answer that for sure now.'  Had that been the case, he'd never have met Magrette, who'd been the only  women he'd ever loved, and still carried a photograph of her on him. But, as work was the biggest issue before losing her, work would most probably have destroyed him and Beverly, too. He could understand however, Saskia's desire to have a sense of belonging. Especially now. 'I would have taken care of you, though, had I known.'

   She nodded and gave him a reassuring look, although she wondered if that would mainly have been a monetary matter. 'I know you missed out on a lot, Dad, I have too, and it's something we'll never recapture, and I guess we've only got the future that could help heal that sort of wound.'

   Neil couldn't answer right away, he was stunned by her words and took a deep, made-up-his-mind breath. 'Then let's see how things go from here. Would you like to do this again?'

   'Yes', she said, her smile broad and quick about it. 'Maybe go for a wine or something?' 
   'Sure. Any part of your weekend free?'
   'Got to work full days Saturday now ... could make it at night, though?' 
   'As long as it's not interfering with plans, or friends or ... anything?'
   'Dad,' she said, with wide eyes and high brows. 'I'm sure they'll survive a night without me. Mum's friend usually spends Saturday's with her to give me a bit of a break. It'll be fine.'
   'Okay then, we can confirm where and when nearer hand the time?'
   'I'd like that - let's go for it! You can maybe let me taste your cooking sometime too.'

   So with that inked a stamp of approval of the other.  

After walking her back to her car, she hugged him extra tightly, and he felt a 'thank you' within it, as well as a frisson of something totally new betiding in exchange. Happy with the sentience that she'd be smelling that fragrance again, (next time she'd ask him what it is) she kissed his cheek, then set off, flicking him a last wave at the exit, carrying the vision of his demilune dimples on her journey home. 

   He watched as her car took to the busy street, to be sucked away into the flow of traffic. Slowly his hand moved from wave position to touching the feel of her lips on his face, savoring the tingle. Who knew the girl would hold such pleasure. For now, though, she was still Jacqueline's prized secret.  At least he had one person to share his first moments of pride with. He might even go through the photo album with her. Then the discernment that they may never have got in touch at all if not for that album, suddenly scared him.

*********************************************************************************             

Peeking through a slither in the door, Saskia saw her mother laying on the sofa, PJ's on in front of the telly. 

   'How did it go?' Beverly called to her as she hung up her coat. 'You were gone a lot longer than expected, I was getting worried.'

   'Went well, actually.'

   'Does he want to see you again?'

   'Of course he does.'

   Beverly gave a slight giggle.  'How could he not, eh? Are you sure you're gonna be okay with it?'

   'Why wouldn't I be? Today went fine - stop panicking mum!'

   'Well, that's good. Can you put the kettle on, love, I'm parched ... that film will be on in a minute.'

   So that was it? That was all she was gonna ask? Saskia sighed at her lack of interest. She knew her mum had been to hell and back these past months, but she'd been there with her and she was doing her best to appease her. Life would continue to throw bad blows around relentlessly, while presenting nothing but pitfalls. Saskia knew a future relationship with Neil, a man she'd never heard of until recently, was a huge gamble. But it really wouldn't have taken her mum that much energy to muster up a bit of returned interest. 
 

*** end of THE MOST BEAUTIFUL THING IN MY LIFE**

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