The shops weren’t very far from Sophie’s house, little more than a few minutes walk. A very handy alleyway meant that journey was much shorter and more direct than it would have been otherwise. Upon exiting said alleyway and being confronted by the shops, Sophie undertook the decision of where to buy lunch. The small supermarket offered a more tasty line in sandwiches, but sorely lacked in areas such as choice of drinks and availability of smaller portions of chocolate or other sweets. The newsagents, on the other hand, could be relied upon to provide an overwhelming selection of drinks and chocolates, some of which you were sure must be made in a small factory somewhere in a country you’ve never heard of. Their sandwich selection, however, was far from appealing, usually containing ingredients either horrible by nature (such as egg) or by preparation (such as the bacon that had the texture of plastic and the taste of another type of plastic that had been somewhere near a pig).
The supermarket was a modest size, intended for emergency purchases, rather than regular shopping. It specialised in having a large selection, but offered little variety. Whatever product you wanted, it could provide, but you had little choice if you were dissatisfied with what it provided. Its range of sandwiches thankfully offered some variety. You even saved money if you bought a (very specific) drink and a packet of crisps at the same time. Sophie decided to push the boat out with a prawn mayonnaise sandwich, apple juice, and some plain crisps. She declined a plastic bag at the checkout and instead did her best to shove all but the sandwich in her jacket pockets.
She shielded her eyes from the glare of the sun as she stepped out of the supermarket and looked around for a suitable spot to have her lunch. She made her way towards the grounds of the village church, knowing there was a few benches there and they’d likely be unoccupied right now.
Sophie selected an appropriate bench that wasn’t in the shade, but had enough trees about that the sun wasn’t trying to blind her. She quietly sat and ate her lunch, watching the world pass by the gates to the church grounds. It struck as a perfect place to sit and contemplate things, but she wasn’t really in that sort of mood. She pulled a book from a pocket in her jacket (it had a lot of them and they were all fairly spacious, she’d purchased it about a year ago from an army surplus store) and set about reading it from where she’d left off the other day. She was about halfway through it now. It wasn’t due back at the library for about a week. She’d definitely have it read by then. The other four she’d taken out at the same time were still sitting unread in a pile on her dressing table. Those would have to be renewed.
Sophie was so engrossed in her book, that she didn’t notice the figure sit down on the spare section of bench beside her. What she did notice, was when he took one of her crisps.
“Hey!” She shouted, looking up from her book. The figure stopped, mid-chew, and tried to look at her with an expression of wide-eyed innocence. “Who the hell are you?”
The figure began to say something, before changing his mind and deciding to finish the crisp and carry on. Sophie looked at him sternly, studying his weathered features and rather impressive beard. Finally, he finished the crisp and coughed slightly.
“Hello.” He beamed at Sophie.
“Yes. Hello. Fancy answering the question?” Sophie had been taught not to talk to strangers, but annoyance at crisp-theft had gotten the better of her.
“I am… um…” The smile faded and he looked away as he fumbled with his words. “Oh, dang it, may as well be straight-forward. I am your father.” He looked at Sophie hopefully.
“Right.” Crisp-theft was forgotten now. Now she was just annoyed by this man in general. “And I’m just supposed to believe that, am I?”
“Well, that would probably make everything nice and easy, I suppose.” His eyebrows narrowed, “You’re not going to, are you?”
“No. I generally don’t take the word of crazy, old, bearded men as gospel.” Sophie closed her book and snatched up her crisps. She got up, pulled her jacket on in a defiant fashion, and stuffed her accoutrement back in their relevant pockets. Before she could walk away, the man got up and barred her way.
“You should though, you know. I’ve got evidence and such-like.”
“Really? Well, that would be nice to see.” Sophie stood there, looking at him skeptically.
“Well, erm… You see, I don’t have it on me…” He stammered a bit and patted what appeared to be some sort of grey robe that he was wearing. Sophie glanced down and noted that it was accented by a pair of brown leather sandals. No socks.
“Right then, I’m going.” She pushed away past this obviously crazy man and made her way in the direction of the entrance.
“Wait!” came the shout from behind her. Sophie had no intention of heeding the command and began to walk faster. The shout came again and she broke into a run. She shot through the entrance and bounded across the road, narrowly missing a car doing about 5 miles an hour. She vaulted a fence and found herself in the park. She didn’t bother with looking ‘round and set off running once more. She didn’t stop until she was on the other side of the park, hiding behind the ancient public toilets that always smelt of urine, yet were never open.
Sophie looked around herself, there were no crazy, bearded men anywhere to be seen (with the exception of the park warden, but he was always around). She leant against the wall of the public toilets, sweat streaming down her face and gasping for air. When she’d calmed down a little, she wandered over to one of the swings and sat down. She swung listlessly back and forth as she thought about what had just happened.
Surely that man wasn’t her father? Surely her parents would have prepared her for such a thing? But then why else would someone be saying such a thing to her, the day after she’d been told she was adopted? He couldn’t be her father. He was far too old, for one thing. Old people don’t give children up for adoption. It’s young, irresponsible people who do such things. Teenagers who get pregnant by accident, or spun-out drug addicts. He was just crazy.
Yes. He was definitely just a crazy old man. I mean, he had all the hallmarks! The beard, the robe, the sandals. And what kind of sane person would think that would be a good way to introduce themselves to their estranged child? Accost them in a public place and steal their crisps? She did always seem to attract the friendship of crazy people. Tramps often decided that she seemed like just the sort of person that would want to know about their collection of discarded bus tickets. Or there was that guy who worked at the butcher’s and would always wave and say hello to her when she passed his shop, even though she had never even been in there.
Sophie sat on the swing and thought. She was there for quite a while and it wasn’t until she noticed the sun beginning to slip towards the horizon that she realised just how long it had been. There was still no sign of the crazy man, but she thought it better to be safe than sorry, so she made her way home by a route that didn’t take her anywhere near the church.
Dinner was just being served when she got home. Her mother made comments about being worried about her and she mumbled about only having been ‘round the corner. Nothing more was said and Sophie hung her jacket up before taking her seat at the table.
“Did you have a nice time while you were out?” her mother asked.
“It was Ok.” There was a fairly long silence before Sophie realised she was being expected to elaborate. “Oh. I just sat by the church and read a bit. And then I went to the park.”
“Did you see anyone?” her father asked.
“Um, no?” Sophie pushed a fork around her plate before saying the next part. “Unless you count the crazy guy who said he was my father.” She pretended not to notice the looks that were exchanged between her parents. She instead filed them away in her mind for further consideration later. The rest of the meal took place mostly in polite silence, only broken by the odd comment about something trivial or a request for something to be passed.
Afterwards, Sophie headed for her room. The usual comment from her mother about being anti-social was notably absent as she ascended the stairs.
The figure watched Sophie run away and sighed. He turned around and walked back to the bench and sat down. He sighed once more and put his head in his hands. He’d messed it up. He knew he had. He should have waited. They were going to contact him and everything would be planned out and done carefully. But he couldn’t wait. He knew what day it had been yesterday, so her knew that they’d told her. And then she’d turned up at the church and it had just seemed so perfect.
Maybe the crisp was where it went wrong. Maybe that just started everything off on the wrong foot. It had been a tasty crisp though. He hadn’t had crisps for a fair few years. He wasn’t sure why that was. She wasn’t around, so why should he be worrying about his salt intake? That was what she used to do. Surely without her here he could do what he liked? No. He knew that she’d be back one day, so it payed to keep up the habits that would be enforced under her rule.
The figure leaned back on the bench and considered the day’s events. He considered it for a long time. Anyone watching would have been forgiven for thinking that he was a statue as he didn’t move and his breathing was slow and shallow enough that it could be mistaken for a trick of the light. He was used to taking his time when he thought about things and he had all the time in the world, so the rest of the world could busy itself with other things. He wasn’t a part of it right now, as far as he was concerned.
It was nightfall when he finally moved again. He’d come to a decision. He’d considered all available options and explored all possible causalities and this one seemed best. He would simply stick to the original plan and hope for the best. He frowned upon the realisation that he had come to a conclusion that was so simple and could possibly have been reached in about 5 minutes. But really, it was better to deliberate too long than to not give something enough thought.
He stood up and looked out at the night with purpose, his hands firmly placed upon his hips. He sagged slightly when he realised that his triumphant narrative was merely in his own head and no one was watching. The night was a bit chilly for a summer evening, probably best to head back inside and wait till tomorrow. He didn’t plan to sleep, he’d had enough of that back in 1993 when he’d been laid up with a cold and had decided to just stay in bed for the rest of the year. Since then, sleep was something he could do without. Barring the odd nap when he found himself at a loose end. Letting out a soft sigh, he turned and walked through the church wall.
congelical 