A/N: sorry for the hiatus. Here's the next instalment. Just to jog your memory, Laura has just told Lyn that pretty much the last thing she said to Robbie was that she didn't want to marry him.


"Ah." Lyn looked down at her lap, focusing on a stray thread on her jeans.

"See." Laura's voice was resigned. "I knew you wouldn't want to hear it." She took a regretful swig of wine.

Lyn's laugh in response was hollow and slightly pained, her shoulders slumping visibly. Laura shifted uneasily on the sofa:

"Sorry… I know this can't be an easy topic. I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's not that." Lyn's eyes met Laura's with force. "I'm not upset that he asked you."

"No?"

"No…" Lyn hesitated, "I knew he was thinking about it."

"What?"

"We'd spoken about it a couple of times." Lyn shrugged. "I've had time to get used to it. And, besides… as I told Dad, it's not really up to me is it?"

"I didn't know he'd spoken to you about it." Laura dodged the rhetorical question, still trying to catch up.

"You know what Dad's like. Always wanting to do things by the book. He sounded Pat and me out a little while ago. Just tentatively. Just floating the idea of it, you know?"

Laura swallowed, her mind seeking vainly to order the array of emotions Lyn had unleashed. "I see," was all she could manage.

"And, even though it's a bit weird talking to your dad about him remarrying, I was glad he was happy. Glad he was so happy that he was thinking about taking such a big step."

Laura set her jaw, staring into the flames in the hearth, as Lyn continued:

"It's a bit of a surprise that he asked you so soon, but other than that…"

Laura swallowed. "He didn't ask me."

"But you said…"

"He didn't propose. We just ended up having an argument about it because of something James said when he was over for dinner. It was stupid. Totally stupid. James was just stirring… but he inadvertently hit a bit of a nerve and… well, let's say some uncomfortable home truths were exchanged."

Lyn took a moment to absorb this information, "So… if he didn't ask you, then you didn't actually say no?"

Laura registered the unexpected relief in Lyn's voice. "No… but…" She began and then faltered. She waited for the indignation, the customary aversion to the very mention of the subject of marriage, to rise with bitterness in her throat, but nothing came. She was numb. She was so tired. And maybe… just maybe…

"Good." Lyn's voice tightened as the vivid image of her father lying motionless in a hospital bed flooded through her once again. At least he hadn't been rejected on top of everything else.

"But…" Laura tried once more, but somehow everything she wanted to say sounded so insignificant. She sighed heavily and glanced at Lyn. Robbie's daughter looked almost childlike– so tired and pale after a long haul flight and the hours of anguish. For the second time that evening, Laura felt a powerful pang of protectiveness. Somehow, she didn't want Lyn to have to hear the home truths that she'd so callously administered to Robbie. Not tonight, anyway. "I suppose it's just a bit complicated," she finished, quietly.

Lyn nodded slowly, misjudging Laura's reticence. She drew her knees up towards her and stared into the fire. An awkward silence fell.

"I haven't had the greatest experience of marriage." Laura eventually volunteered, attempting an apologetic smile. "I've never been married before… and there's a reason for that." She paused to accommodate another monumental sigh, "My parents' marriage – my childhood - was a bit of a disaster, emotionally speaking. A lot of a disaster, really. They divorced when I was a teenager and, ever since, I've not exactly been marriage's greatest fan…" Laura laughed hollowly, "God, this all sounds so ridiculous and unimportant now… now that your dad's…" She swallowed down the bitter lump that was rising in her throat.

Lyn was toying again with the stray thread on her jeans. She didn't speak.

"I love your dad, Lyn. Really, I do. I have for a long, long time." The candour with which she spoke came as a slight surprise to Laura – so much of this conversation was unexpected - but hearing the words aloud soothed her. "And, whatever my misgivings about marriage, I am in this for the long haul. He's… everything to me."

Lyn smiled, registering the sincerity in Laura's voice. Relief flooded through her. She looked steadily at Laura, noting the pain in her face and the agitation in her hands as she toyed with her fingernails. She spoke gently: "He's crazy about you, you know?" These were words Lyn had never imagined herself saying. She remembered the strange sensation the moment she had first recognized the extent of her father's feelings for Laura – when he had sat in Lyn's kitchen and the love, affection and happiness he felt had shone in his face, despite the slightly more measured tone of his words. Lyn had cried that night – bittersweet tears for her mum and yet another sense of an ending, laced with the joy of seeing her dad so happy again. Yet, those tears seemed to have been shed a long time ago. Now she was ready to be the glue that held Laura together through this. If her dad recovered, she sure as hell wanted Laura to be by his side.

Laura's eyes were welling again. "Maybe not any more."

"Don't be daft. "It'll take more than a rejected marriage proposal to put him off. He's nothing if not doggedly determined. They don't call him a plodder for nothing."

Laura laughed, the sound wet with the moisture gathering in her eyes and throat.

"And… perhaps your experience of marriage has not been the best, but…" Lyn hesitated, wary of drawing this comparison, for her own sake as well as Laura's, but nevertheless feeling it might help. "Mum and Dad had a good marriage, you know." She watched the smile slide from Laura's face, but knew she wanted to say this on her dad's behalf. "A very good marriage. They were happy. They were a brilliant partnership. My childhood was full of love, support and good morals because of it. I know it's weird for me to say this – and it must be hard for you to hear it – but if I don't say it, who will... Dad's capable of commitment. He's capable of giving himself to someone else – of loving them completely, of making them feel safe, looked after and the centre of his world. I can say that because that's how he treated my mum, that's how I grew up…"

Laura sighed. "I know."

"He just wants to do the same for you."

"I know."

"I'm not saying he's perfect. God, no." Lyn laughed fondly. "He can be grumpy, cantankerous…"

Laura couldn't help but smile, "… obstinate…" she added.

"… slightly inept when expressing his feelings…"

"…yes." Laura knew that one well. "Overly engrossed in his work?"

"… totally obsessed with his work! But maybe we should forgive him that, because if he was less obsessed, you two wouldn't have spent so much time together…"

"Maybe." Laura laughed. "Messy."

"Stuck in his ways."

"A spectacularly inconsistent cook."

"I'm surprised you let him anywhere near the kitchen!"

"with an over-inflated belief in his DIY capabilities…"

"… and many other things." Lyn completed the list, by which time they were both laughing.

"Well, he may not be perfect, but unfortunately we're both stuck with him. You, because he's your dad. And me, because… well, I can't imagine life without him."

Suddenly the levity went out of the conversation, as the haze induced by the wine fell and the agony of the situation penetrated once again with force. Without him. Laura took a deep intake of breath and stood to collect Lyn's wine glass, "Come on – time for bed, I think. You must be shattered."

Lyn nodded, grateful for the diversion from her darkened thought process. A wall of tiredness hit her.

"The spare room's ready for you." Laura placed the guard over the fire and discarded the wine glasses in the kitchen. "I'll just get you some towels." She called from the stairs.

Lyn stared at the dying glow of the fire through the mesh of the fireguard, alone now and unable to drag her mind from its preoccupation with the image of her dad, lying alone in hospital. Along with her father, she had relinquished any belief in God when her mother had been killed. But tonight she would pray for the first time in years.


Laura was up early the next morning, grateful for the sense of purpose that the descent of Robbie's family was affording. She made up the sofa bed in the study, ready for Pat's arrival; cleaned the kitchen; and slipped out to Waitrose to buy in supplies for a household capacity which would soon be made up to five, once Lyn's husband and son had ventured down from Manchester. It felt so good to be busy, but her industry was of course laced with regret that it had taken such an event to bring the family together beneath one roof.

She was making coffee when Lyn shuffled into the kitchen.

"Morning." Laura was relieved to see that some colour had returned to Lyn's cheeks.

"Morning." Lyn responded, groggily, squinting against the morning sun and gratefully accepting a steaming cup of caffeine. "I thought you would be at the hospital. I hope you weren't waiting for me."

"No, no." Laura lied. "I rang them early this morning – he's much the same. No change. I thought we could have some breakfast and then head over there together."

"Thanks, Laura. That would be great."

"Have you heard from Tim?"

"Yeah, he called last night before I went to sleep. They're going to set off as soon as Jack's finished school this afternoon. They'll run straight into the Friday rush hour traffic at Birmingham, but Tim just wants to get on the road."

"It'll be nice to have them here."

"Jack can't wait to see you."

Laura smiled, recalling their conversation last night and aware of the effort that Lyn was making.

"What have you said to Jack... about your dad?"

Lyn's face scrunched up in discomfort. "Just that Grandpa's very poorly and he's in hospital. I won't let Jack see him – just yet."

Laura nodded in agreement. "Probably for the best."

Suddenly, Laura's mobile sprang into life on the kitchen side. Lyn watched her face alter as she registered the caller ID.

"Hello?" Laura answered and Lyn felt her heart stop.