Ferryman Read Free Page B

blur. At home she’d numbly watched
Ready, Steady, Cook
and the news, not even changing channel when the stupid soaps came on. What if he didn’t call? Would he have listened to the message yet? What if he never got the message? Dylan had imagined a female hand lifting the receiver and listening, then slowly pressing a painted red fingernail on the delete button. The image had made her look over at the cordless phone beside her and chew her bottom lip, indecisively. Too scared to phone again, she’d had no choice but to cross her fingers and stay within easy reach of her mobile.
    It took two days, but he did call. At four o’clock, just as she was sloshing home through yet another rainy day of school with wet socks and increasingly wet shoulders, her phone vibrated in her pocket and began chirping out the piano chords of the
Once Upon a Time
theme tune. This was it. Her heart seemed to stop beating as she yanked the phone out of her pocket. A quick glance at the caller ID confirmed it: although it wasn’t a number she recognised, it was the Aberdeen area code. Sliding her thumb up the glass screen, she pressed it to her ear.
    “Hello?” Her voice sounded rough and strangled. She tried to clear her throat quietly.
    “Dylan? Dylan, this is James. Miller. I mean, your dad.”
    Silence. Say something Dylan, she thought. Say something, Dad. The silence hung between them, but in the stress of the moment it sounded like screaming.
    “Listen.” His voice broke through it, melted it away. “I’m so glad you called. I’ve wanted to get in touch with you for so long. We’ve got a lot to catch up on.”
    Dylan closed her eyes and smiled. She took a deep breath and started to speak.
    It had been so easy after that. Talking to him felt very comfortable, like she’d known him for ever. They’d talked until Dylan’s mobile ran out of charge. He wanted to know everything about her, her school, hobbies, who she hung out with, what movies were her favourites and what books she liked to read. Boys – though there wasn’t much to say there, not from the selection on offer at Kaithshall. In return, he told her about his life in Aberdeen, where he lived with Anna, his dog. No wife, no kids. No complications. And he wanted her to visit.
    That had been exactly one week ago. For seven days Dylan had been wrestling with her nerves and excitement about meeting him, and trying not to fight with Joan, who made no secret of the fact that she disapproved of Dylan trying to connect with her father. She’d no one to talk to about it except snatched MSN conversations with Katie whenever her friend’s crazy mother gave her five minutes alone. They’d managed to sneak one such chat last night. Katie’s mother had done a late-night shopping run – she hated to go when there would be lots of people around – and Katie had managed to convince her that she needed to go to bed early for school. Dylan had received her text and two minutes later they’d been connected.
    Oh my God I thought she was never going to leave! Thank heavens for 24hr supermarkets!
I know! How are things?
New school still suck? New school, same morons. These ones are just country morons. So glad that this time next year we’ll be starting college, I can’t wait to get out of here! Howz things at glorious Kaithshall?
Sucks. Got some news though!
Ooh, do tell!
I called my dad.
     
    Dylan had hit the send button and waited. Her heart had been racing ridiculously. She’d wanted Katie to say something nice; wanted someone to tell her that she was doing the right thing. There’d been a pause that seemed to last for ever before the little box had popped up:
Katie’s writing
.
    So… how did that go?
     
    A cautious response. Her friend hadn’t wanted to stick her foot in it.
    Actually, great! He wants to meet me! He sounded really nice on the phone. Don’t know why Joan hates him so much.
Who knows? Parents are weird. Look at mine, total nutters! So is he coming down to