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Table of Contents
Praise for Sarah Lean’s stories
Sarah Lean 3 Book Collection
Sarah Lean
For Dad
Contents
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Acknowledgments
MY NAME IS CALLY LOUISE FISHER AND I haven’t spoken for thirty-one days. Talking doesn’t always make things happen, however much you want it to. Think of rain; it just happens when it happens. When the clouds are ready, when they’re full, they drop the water. It’s not magic; it’s just putting something back where it belongs.
And this is how it all began.
1.
DAD’S BIRTHDAY, AND I GOT UP BEFORE ANYONE.
He just wanted a quiet day. No presents, no cake, no nothing. It just wouldn’t be right, he said. People forget birthdays aren’t just about them.
Dad’s birthday is also the same day my mum died last year. I think it’s called a tragedy or a catastrophe or some other big word which means more than just ‘bad luck’ when two things like that happen on the same day.
I sat outside Dad’s bedroom door with his birthday cards, waiting. Through the gap in the doorway I could just make out the dark hump under the covers and his dark head making a deep dent in his pillow. He sighed, so I knew he was awake.
There were six birthday cards for Dad. One from me, one from my older brother Luke (still in bed or on his computer – the door was shut) and four that had come in the post. I nudged Dad’s bedroom door open a bit wider and flung my card in. I saw Dad patting round the bed, feeling for the blue envelope that landed by his back, and heard it crunch as he opened it. It was a picture of a grey bear with a blue nose. It was speaking on the telephone and on the front it said A Message From Me To You.
Dad said, “Thanks, that’s nice.”
And I said, “Are you thinking about Mum?”
Silence.
And then he said, “Get me a cup of coffee, will you?”
It didn’t feel like a birthday at all, not even with the cards on top of the telly. Dad had the volume turned low while we sat around waiting for the rest of our family to arrive and come with us to visit Mum’s grave for her anniversary.
2.
