Trying Not To Love You

Part Seventy Eight

Chapter Seventy Eight

Martha stopped Herman in the yard, there wasn’t much sign of life in the house, and suddenly she was wondering what she was about to walk into. Last time she’d been here she’d heard the unthinkable, before that she’d seen the unbelievable. But now...she was stronger, in control. Nothing she saw could hurt or shock her. Coming back...well she knew that she had to beat all these situations. Starting with her father.

She knocked the door with a laugh, she hadn’t knocked the door in her twenty eight years, and there was no answer. So she opened it, walked in. She’d not made it to the lounge when her father appeared, he was pale, almost deathly so, and gaunt looking.

                “Martha,” he sighed. “You’re back?”

She shrugged, she couldn’t pity him, not yet, no matter how bad he looked, “I’m back in town, yes. I’m not ready for anything more than that...” She gave an awkward smile, “but I want to I stay at the restaurant. I presume the flat there’s still empty. Me and Ethan...and Lucy, we need a home. I was going to leave town, but I can’t do that. Can I have the keys?”

He nodded, a look of relief washing over his face, “this is your home.” When she shook her head he added, “it’s not that nice the flat; no one’s been in it for ages.”

She shrugged, “I can paint it, clean it, that’s not a problem. I’ve never shirked hard work. No one can argue with that.”

He sighed sadly, “but this IS your home...I’m sorry it’s like this. Can we talk? Please.”

Shaking her head Martha looked at him, “we NEED to talk, I know that, but I’m not ready. I need to sort my life out. I can’t be put in a position where you or anyone else can pull the rug from under me so easily, I’ve always been independent, worked, been self sufficient, and then you threw it all up in the air. I can’t even begin to think about the rest of it, it’s abhorrent, if I think about it I won’t sleep, won’t function. I love you Dad, but I can’t talk to you, not yet. Ok?”

He nodded sadly, “but you will?”

Giving a sad shrug, she said, “I hope so. You don’t look great.”

He sighed, “I missed you, hate everything...”

Martha ignored the pain she felt at his sadness, “where’s she?”

Her father groaned, “she HAS been looking after me, but she had a meeting in London. She’ll be back this evening.”

                “Ok. I’ll send Ethan around later. He’s missed you...and I need the time to get on with things.”

He moved across to the sideboard and found a set of keys, “you’re both welcome here for as long or as much as you need. I know you doubt that, but I love you...more than anything.” Handing her the keys he added, “in the flat...the door to the street is stiff, give it a shove. Ok?”

She nodded then took the keys, never more glad that her father hadn’t completely sold the restaurant than at the thought of her own time and space.

Her optimism didn’t last long. The flat was a mess. On the plus side it had three bedrooms - two large and a very small one, which meant that she wouldn’t have to share with Ethan. But the kitchen was disgusting, dusty, dirty and very unloved. The lounge was filled with junk, filing cabinets, broken furniture and the like. She’d have to paint ALL of it, and not before cleaning thoroughly. It wasn’t an easy task, and before she returned to the pub she got out her phone. It was Saturday lunchtime; she had time to get on the case.