Page 49 of Daydreaming at the Boathouse Cafe

‘Perhaps you should look to your own family for support,’ said his dad.

‘Wedosupport each other,’ she told him. ‘Because we’re family. Could Alex say the same about you?’

His dad drew in a deep breath and Hannah wondered whether her loose tongue had gone too far in its temper.

‘Athletes like Alex have different kinds of goals,’ he replied after a short silence.

‘But life isn’t just about achieving goals,’ she told him. ‘It’s about kindness, support and friendship.’

‘But Alex is different,’ said his dad. ‘His athletic abilities are special. He has a gift. He should be using it, not wasting it in the middle of nowhere.’

‘But it’s the rest of him that’s special too,’ she told him. ‘Not just his athleticism, don’t you agree? Can’t you see that?’

‘I see a quitter,’ snapped his dad. ‘And that’s no good to anyone.’

‘Rubbish,’ said Hannah. ‘I suffer with dyslexia and he’s been helping me out with the paperwork for the café, otherwise I would have been a quitter too. But let me tell you something,’ she carried on, getting up a head of steam. ‘If Ihadquit the café, my family would have been there for me every step of the way. Because that’s what families do. Support each other.’

His dad went to speak but Hannah found that she couldn’t stop talking now.

‘We lost my dad last year,’ she said. ‘And I would give anything to have him here now with us. Do you know how lucky you are? My grandfather can’t see his son any more. He doesn’t have that choice. You do and you’re still walking away from him.’

His dad huffed out a sigh. ‘Look, it’s complicated,’ he said.

‘No, it’s not,’ replied Hannah. ‘Alex is a credit to you, not a failure. It’s just a shame you can’t see him in that way. Because he’s amazing and one of the best men I’ve ever known. I’m so proud of him. You should be too.’

She turned on her heel and led Tiny away towards the boathouse. She was shaking with anger and found herself taking a few deep breaths along the way to calm herself down. She didn’t want Alex to know that his dad had been so cruel.

And yet, when she went into the boathouse and walked onto the balcony, she realised that Alex was hurting anyway. He was standing at the railing but when he spun around to look at her, she realised that the pain in his eyes wasn’t from his foot, it was from his soul.

So despite trying to keep him at arm’s length since her drunken kiss, she couldn’t stop herself from stepping forward to draw him into a hug.

‘I’m so sorry it didn’t work out with your dad,’ she murmured against his broad chest.

He squeezed her a little closer and she felt him give a shaky sigh.

‘We’ll work it out,’ she told him. ‘We’ll think of something to make him see it your way.’

She hated to see him upset, desperate to take his pain away from him.

Because she had meant every word she had told his father. He was good and decent and kind. And she was beginning to really care for him now.

26

Three weeks on from breaking his foot, Alex was beginning to feel a few small signs of recovery.

He could now walk slowly without any crutches, for which he was grateful. He found that he missed running and using his body so easily as he had done before the accident. The need to keep up his physical well-being, as well as his heart rate, was still quite strong after all the years of training. But he was pleased to be feeling stronger at last after a frustrating couple of weeks.

He briefly thought about the conversation with his dad before forcing his mind onto something else. He had spoken his mind and said what was long overdue, as far as he was concerned. He just hoped that he and his dad could repair their relationship in time.

But he also was pleased to have found a different type of exercise which he intended to keep up for the duration of his recuperation. Each morning before breakfast, and after taking Tiny out for a walk, he would go for a swim in the lake whilst Tiny lay on the beach watching him with sleepy eyes.

‘Best rehabilitation I know,’ Walter had said to him one evening.

And Alex was now inclined to agree.

Swimming had always been part of the triathlon to him, the first stage in a race. So to discover that he actually enjoyed the tranquillity of the water by himself was a surprise. After his swim, he always felt better, calmer and happier.

Twice Dotty had joined him and Alex was pleased that she too was enjoying swimming in the lake, even at eighty years of age, and yet he was worried as well. He voiced his concerns to Ben late one morning.