The Liar’s Daughter. Claire Allan

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      ‘He’s still your dad. You must have some ideas.’

      I know when I was little he liked books and gardening. He liked being the centre of attention. He liked people thinking he had brains to burn. Country walks. Talking about himself. Wildlife documentaries. Hurting people. Manipulating their feelings. Leaving.

      ‘I don’t know,’ I say, shaking my head. ‘Maybe a drive to the beach. A visit to the museum,’ I say with a distinct lack of enthusiasm.

      ‘We could try to get him down to the library, to see his old friends,’ Stella suggests and I could kiss her for trying.

      ‘I was going to take him out for a pint, if he was well enough,’ Alex offers.

      Heidi stays silent.

      It’s all pretty mundane as far as a bucket list goes, but at least it feels doable, and without too much effort or time spent with him.

      ‘Those are all great ideas,’ Kathleen says, nodding a little too enthusiastically given the dull nature of our suggestions. ‘I think it’s worth really focusing on the fact that the thing he needs most of all right now is all of us pulling together to support him. I know you girls are young and have enough going on in your lives, but in the great grand scheme of things it really doesn’t amount to an awful lot of time. Then he’ll be gone and you’ll never have to think of him again.’ Her voice cracks as she looks at us all.

      Auntie Kathleen induces guilt well, raised as she was in the thrall of Irish Catholicism. But for the same reasons she will be crippled by her own guilt, too. She hasn’t been a frequent visitor over the years, leaving for England some sixteen or seventeen years ago and rarely making the journey back, even when a flight could be bought for less than a bus fare.

      ‘We should probably help him get his affairs in order,’ a quiet voice from the other side of the room speaks up. ‘I’m sure there are lots of things he needs to tie up. Financial matters. His belongings. If he has a will …’

      I stiffen, looking at Heidi, who stares right back at me.

      ‘I don’t know if we have to worry about that just yet,’ I say, even though a part of me is impressed that little mouse Heidi can squeak, after all.

      ‘Well, I think we do. We can dance around it all we want,’ Heidi says, ‘but we know there will be upset when he’s gone. I’d rather we’re all prepared for it. I’ll be hoping to get this house on the market as soon as possible.’

      I hear Kathleen gasp. Even Alex can’t hide his shock at the manner in which his wife has spoken. I’m shocked myself. Simpering Heidi who has been at his beck and call all these years. It strikes me for a second that this is actually how she has been since I first visited. Restrained. Cold. No hint of personal grief.

      ‘I don’t think that this is the time or the place for this discussion, sweetheart,’ Alex says, looking at her, a confused expression on his face.

      ‘This is exactly the time and place for it,’ she says, her voice growing in confidence. ‘I want everyone to be very clear about what will happen after. This is my house, as outlined in my mother’s will, and when Joe is dead, I will be selling it. As soon as possible. I’ll do my bit by him while he is alive, but that’s it.’

      I feel Stella reach out and take my hand, but my fist is clenched tight.

      ‘I’m sorry if anyone finds that upsetting, but that is the way of it. And it’s better to be honest and prepared than to deal with more upset after his death. The lines are very clearly drawn.’

      ‘Heidi.’ Alex puts his hand on her knee as if to quiet her.

      She pushes it away.

      ‘No, Alex, I’m not being insensitive. I’m being honest. Someone has to be honest about this all. We’re all dancing around, afraid to say what needs to be said. Joe is not a nice man. He’s not a good man. He has been a cuckoo in this nest for too long.’

      Kathleen looks as if she has been slapped squarely around the face. I watch as she stands up and walks out of the room. I can hear the sound of her crying just as I hear her climb the stairs.

      I can hear Stella asking if I’m okay, but it’s almost as if I can’t quite understand what I’m feeling any more.

      Heidi gets up and storms out of the room, Alex following her. I hear the back door open and I just sit and try to process everything that has just been said.

      But I can’t escape the truth. I might be shocked at Heidi’s outburst, but she is only speaking the truth. My father is not, and never could be, a good man.

      The only person I’m truly angry at is him.

       Chapter Sixteen

       Heidi

      Now

      I have stopped, dead in my tracks, at the edge of the lawn in the back garden. I swallow a lungful of the damp night air, shuddering as I exhale. I’ve not realised until now that I am shaking. The sound of heavy footsteps on the gravel behind me makes me jump. I brace for impact. For a clip to the back of the head. For admonishment that I had run away and good girls don’t run away.

      Good girls show gratitude.

      Good girls behave.

      ‘Your mother would have wanted you to behave, that’s what would have made her happy.’

      My breathing changes, becomes shallow, short gasps at the air that feels moist and heavy and cold. It’s as if I am consuming coldness and it is filling my veins until my shaking becomes more violent.

      Maybe Alex is right. Maybe this isn’t the right time or place, but I’m struggling to hold this all in now. I’m struggling with the weight of keeping quiet, of talking about bucket lists and making him happy.

      Joe McKee does not deserve to be happy.

      He does not deserve to leave this world peacefully, thinking he is absolved of all of his sins.

      The steps grow closer. Heavy breathing. I sense anger. I feel it grip me.

      ‘Heidi.’ Alex’s voice is hard and cold.

      I turn to look at him – see disappointment and anger in his eyes.

      ‘Was there really a need for that?’ he asks.

      I blink back at him. My usual reaction is to say no. To apologise. To push down at the feelings and all the memories that weigh heavy on my chest every single day. But it feels different now and I want to tell him. I want to tell him everything – even though it will change our lives. I want to be brave.

      ‘Yes,’ I tell him. ‘There was a need for it. All this, what we’re doing, Alex. It’s all bullshit. While he lies up there, being waited on hand and foot. The people he hurt are running themselves into the ground trying to make his last few months bearable.’

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