The Shop Girl and the Priest

"Call him Dad; none of that 'Father' Bollocks, and making Jaime and Karen call him Grandfather, you pretentious twat!"

"He was an army officer!" shouted Dad.

"For the last six years of a twenty-four-year career!"

"He was..."

"He was their bloody Grandpa!"

"He had a position... a place in the scheme of things..."

"He wasn't Montgomery, he wasn't Patton, he was a fucking blanket stacker, a storeman!"

"Don't you dare!" he shouted back, "Our father was... an honourable man, clever..."

"Clever? He was bloody idiot, he had a couple of O-levels and the best he could do with them was join the bloody army." There was more silence. "You remember him slagging off anyone that had a degree, he used to quote that 'I was educated at the University of Life' bollocks!"

That was also one of my dad's mantras.

"You can't learn everything from a book, Frank, Dad learned sooooo much..."

"He knew about being a soldier and nothing else... just... just... WHAT IS UP WITH YOU, YOU FUCKING IDIOT!" Frank shouted back, and I was worried that someone would hear them shouting and call the police and have us thrown out of the nicest park in Oxford, somewhere that Russ and I walked occasionally.

"Our Father..."

"Our Dad was an arrogant, misogynistic snob who thought he still lived in the sixties and seventies. He was worse than you, I'll admit that, but for Christ's sake, Rod, you're letting him ruin your relationship with the most gorgeous and precious things you ever bloody achieved, your two girls..."

"Don't... talk... about my girls..."

"Karen could be such a beautiful and sweet girl, but listening to you and Dad made her into an angry bitch queen, don't you realise that?"

"There's nothing wrong with my Karen!" Dad snorted.

"Other than you and Gwen, she has no friends - NO FRIENDS!! To be honest, I'm not wholly convinced she likes Gwen, she doesn't bloody respect her!"

"She's... she's doing very well at University! Doesn't HAVE to be in OXFORD!" Dad snapped

"Yeah, University, let's talk about that. She comes home from Brighton every day - EVERY FUCKING DAY, a ninety-mile round trip because and WON'T stay in halls with the ordinary people and can't talk to them because she's so far UP HERSELF!"

"You take that back, there's nothing wrong with Karen!"

"Nothing!" Frank said with a sarcastic drawl. "As long as when she graduates with her degree in Media and Marketing she's joins the Grenadier Guards or becomes a sergeant major in the Logistics Corps?" he snapped. "But she won't, she's a sweet Undergraduate from South Surrey who will never lower herself to the sort of life that Dad lived, but unless you help her now she will never be able to do anything for more than a week; not a job, not a relationship, nothing! Can't you see that‽"

"She can be a bit snappy sometimes..." Dad burbled.

"Snappy‽" Frank growled. "Snappy, your daughter Karen has grown into one of the single nastiest people I know, have EVER MET; the last time I saw her actually smile was driving past a bloody road accident. She actually takes pleasure in other people's misfortune; I spent ten years watching her dig holes for her gorgeous and precious big sister to fall into so YOU could..." I rounded the corner past some trees, and there was Uncle Frank and my dad, stood up and arguing.

"And talking about gorgeous and precious, here she is; Jaime come over here, Baby." I got up close to them and he slipped an arm around my shoulder, "Your Dad has some things he wants... No, NEEDS to say to you." He got right up into Dad's face, and I was quite concerned he might hit him.

"Jaime," said Dad coldly. My shoulders slumped; it hadn't worked.

"So fucking help me, Roderick, if you blow this shit, I will NEVER fucking speak to you again. I'll adopt this beautiful and amazing girl and do all the things you were too bloody stupid and too bloody pig-headed to do yourself, I'll go to her graduation and cry because I'm so bloody proud of her; I'll walk her down the aisle and give her away at her wedding to her amazing boyfriend you've never even met, and make the speech and probably cry AGAIN, and I'll be Gram'pa to her children, NOT GRANDFATHER!!" he raged.

Dad looked stunned.

"I... I..." he stuttered.

"You're not in that bloody school anymore, Rod. You're an adult and entitled to you OWN opinions; Dad has gone, now you can stop trying to get his approval, he isn't and never was worth you losing this beautiful child over!" He moved back, took a long breath and indicated my father, "Your turn, Babygirl," he said.

Dad looked pale, even paler than he normally did.

"Dad," I said moving closer to him, feeling like I should give him a hug, seeing as he looked a bit messed up by the 'home truths' Uncle Frank had battered him with—as promised.

"Jaime," he said staring at the floor, but still looking quite emotional. I had worked through what I was going to say in my head dozens of times, after Uncle Frank and Aunt Polly had taken Russ and I out to dinner to celebrate our engagement.

"Dad," I said, "Whatever the reasons you don't like me..."

"I love you, Jaime," he butted in.

"Yeah you might do, but Dad? You don't actually 'like' me." I paused. "You never 'liked me.' Nothing I ever did was good enough—ever. You were disappointed in everything I ever did... well Dad? This is it - I've had over three years without your opinions and you looking down your nose at me in contempt; I've become my own woman, and I like her; I will never go back to the way it was." I turned face on to him,

"I understand life was hard for you with Grandfather, so I forgive you; I forgive you for all of the snide comments, the groans, the rolled eyes, all of it." I closed my eyes on the guilty memories and felt good that I could finally be rid of them; so I continued shedding.

"For always being critical rather than complementary, and for constantly telling me I'd let you down when the thing I needed most was your support or advice, and an arm around my shoulder, or God forbid your help in doing something. For when I was unwell, scared and I felt like death, when my life was a messy, painful, misery... for someone, one person, YOU... to tell me it would be okay and give me a hug rather than a telling off for being ill. Just once!" I screeched as the emotion poured out of me.

Despite what Russ had said to me and Uncle Frank's nodding encouragement, all I could see was this being the last time I ever spoke to him, my voice broke and I cried.

"I know you wanted a son and instead you got me, I know you wanted that son to be rough and tough and sporty, and to join the army and carry on Grandfather's work and give you some validation with him; but you didn't. I know you had the crap knocked out of you at school, I know how badly you were bullied. I've been there and suffered that—but," I snapped, crying with getting it all off my chest, "that wasn't me and it wasn't my fault, stop punishing me for it!"

He broke eye contact with me and I could see some distinct reddening around his eyes as the home truths came home.

"If that is the way it always has to be, then so be it; I'll arrange to see Mum when you aren't around, I'll make sure she gets invited to the things in my life and promise never to bother you with them, but Dad? I either need to be let back in or I need closure, it's up to you."

I put my hands to my face as the tears flowed, and Uncle Frank stepped up to hug me where Dad still hadn't.

"Rod?" growled Uncle Frank.

Dad just blinked and tried to come up with an answer, not his usual defence and disappointed bollocks, but real soul searching.

"Jaime, I..." he caught his breath and looked me in the face. "Jaime, I was always proud of you, always. You were brilliant at everything you did. I was honestly shocked when you came around on that Boxing Day, you looked, and still look, stunning, such a beautiful woman—every inch your mother in that respect—and Oxford?" He grinned and looked around him, his arms spread wide in delight despite the big tears coming down his face now. "Believe it or not, it's what I'd always secretly wanted for you—and Karen, the success I'd always wanted for you in my heart..." He took a long sniff and pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped his face.

He stopped talking and looked like he was going to walk away but no, he just walked across to one of the green-painted park benches and sat, patting the space next to him. I sat.

Uncle Frank stood before us, arms folded and every inch the gatekeeper.

"Jaime," Dad took another long breath but I let him get on with it. "...Frank is right. It all began when you were first born. Him and Aunt Polly had a son," he nodded to his brother. "Both my cousins that had married had sons and your grandfather was all over them, buying them little soldier suits, toy guns. I'm sure Richard learnt to march rather than walk." He closed his eyes and I could see him struggling with something. "And then Joanna and then you came along. Your Grandfather..." Dad sat back on the bench, straighter than before and I could see that even bringing his father to mind had him on his best behaviour. "Your Grandfather had some digs and nasty comments about that, except when your Mum or Polly were there, of course." He smiled about that, and I remembered the occasional uncomfortable air of 'something' between Grandfather, Mum and my fiery, folded-arms Aunt Polly.

Polly told me that as Jo-Jo, Karen and I grew up and became more feminine and girly, it became almost like a challenge from both his daughters-in-law; a 'go on then, try it' hanging in the air if he so much as looked at his granddaughters with his occasional misogynistic scorn.

Dad continued.

"It was like he didn't want to know you or Jo, didn't want to waste his time on you. He was more impressed with the next-door neighbour's son when he first came round to see you the day after you were born!" Dad roared, but not at me or Frank—I saw the realisation and more anger, but a different anger this time. He shook his head at whatever thoughts he was having.

"He was from a family of all boys; he'd only had boys and I think he considered you a bit of a doll; something for your Mum to dress-up, and as he nastily put it 'parade around town in pink lace and show off,' but pretty pointless other than that—you would never be a boy and women were no good as soldiers and that was all he knew or understood so..." I could see the tears pouring down his face now.

"It's okay, Dad," I said with a hand on his hand, the first time I'd touched him in longer than I could remember.

He gave a little giggle,

"And I that was it! I'd let him down YET AGAIN! I couldn't even have the right sort of child," he said, wiping his eyes again. "I was raised to follow him into the army but because of these," he tapped his glasses, he'd always been extremely short-sighted. "And this," he thumped his fist into his chest, he'd suffered with Asthma for most of his young life, possibly exacerbated by a cold and damp pre-war married quarter in Germany he'd spent the first three years of his life, then the drafty, cold and damp dormitories in his new school. "Disappointment was my daily life from nine or ten," he hissed, looking out across the open space in front of us and the exercise class forming up to take place there,

"Daddy would forever be encouraging me, then shouting at me to 'do better', but of course I couldn't. My glasses got thicker and were strapped to my head with elastic bands 'so I could still run and get into it.' He didn't speak to me for a week after I failed to get into the school football team. Trouble was, I could run, I just couldn't breathe..." he turned his head to me and smiled, although his eyes remained downcast.

I saw it now, my grandfather had always been a bit distant, but I just figured that was what Grandfathers were like, my maternal grandfather having passed just after I was born.

But Cheryl's mum, Jen, and dad, Dave, were all over Rosie and Ruby (and me eventually), would have them at the drop of a hat and spoiled them rotten. Uncle Frank was the same, if not more so, with his new grandson and had been with me.

Dad looked up at Uncle Frank and nodded, as if something had suddenly come to him.

"I treated you just how I'd been treated," he said. "And I'm SORRY!" he turned to me and reached across taking both of my hands in both of his. "Jaime, I'm so sorry I was so mean to you. I turned into my Dad... and you suffered for it." He slid closer to me, "I know you said you forgive me, but I kind of think that was for your peace of mind and on the understanding that you were never going to speak to me again after today, and I wouldn't blame you." He struggled to keep his voice in pitch, "Please forgive me, for real, and because I'm asking. Please!" he sobbed, "I don't want to be constantly angry anymore, not with you, not with Karen, not with your Mum..."

"Best of luck with that," whispered Uncle Frank over his still folded arms.

"Give me another chance," he said, "let me turn over a new leaf, let me back into your life and I promise I'll be better; help me, Jai, please..." his voice dropped to a whisper, it was also the first time he'd ever called me 'Jai.'

I looked at Uncle Frank and he smiled, I smiled.

"Let's give it a try, Dad," I said. "You know Karen isn't going to be happy."

"I'll have to work on Karen, I'm afraid she's a rod I created for my own back. She's me and your Grandf... Grandad, twice over." I could see he was about to break down, so I moved closer and hugged him. I hugged him as hard as I could, the same way that I'd been hugged by Cheryl, by Mum, by Russ, by Gemma and we both cried.

Frank took my hand and pulled me up, then took Dad's hand and pulled him up. Arm in arm with me in the middle, we walked through to the small tea shop concession in the park and I had an Earl Grey, which Dad seemed extremely impressed with, having the second cup out of my small pot while I finished his. We walked back to Oriel and I showed them the buildings. Dad stood stunned, looking up at the classic stone of the grand entrance way with the three statues above it.

We walked to my rooms, we saw Gemma and I introduced her as my best mate, wardrobe advisor, chef, lifestyle guru and general lifesaver. She had met Uncle Frank before, but had only been party to my occasional grumbles about life at home with Dad.

He must have clicked to this through her warm welcome, her jolly hug and 'Frankaaaay!' greeting to my uncle and her reserved offer of a handshake to Dad.

He held it and thanked her for looking after me and helping me when he should have been doing so. Gem looked at him with some suspicion, then to me and Frank. She nodded her head,

"Okay," she said firmly, but with a grin. "But don't let it happen again."

When I reached my rooms, it was to find that Russ, Mum and Aunt Polly were already there and drinking tea.

*****

A year later I graduated with a First in Ancient History from Oriel College Oxford, of the nine of us that started, seven of us where there on that sunny day to receive our degrees.

In the audience were Mum and Cheryl, using my two tickets, Dad had insisted saying he'd be there when I graduated my masters, seeing as Cheryl had been the one that got me there in the first place, while Father Russell had blagged a place there as part of the local clergy.

I did take a masters rather than QTS, and now I work at the Ashmolean, part of the team assessing and inspecting new artefacts. I'm thinking what my PhD thesis should be about. My husband, Father Russell, thinks it should be about something to do with the Holy Land, as he's always wanted to go there. I've said perhaps, it would be quite cute for the atheist to go to the cradle of so many religions after all.

We married after my masters graduation, I was given away by my Dad, and married to Russ by his Boss Father Chris in the church along from the hall we first met in, with the fully catered reception in that same hall, my favourite photo of him in his suit and me in my long tight white dress in that car park by that door.

Cheryl was my Maid of honour, with chief bridesmaid Gemma alternately holding the hands of Rosie, Ruby and young Jake, and getting very broody into the bargain. She had gotten engaged to Will shortly after us, and they were married shortly before us, by Russ.

Karen did eventually calm down; Dad apologised to her as well, but initially she struggled to see what was wrong with how we were raised. Life was tough and non-hackers should get out the way, surely.

Mum tried and was just accused of trying to get her to like me, her favourite.

In the end, Mum and Dad just got on with it, with Dad just being nice to people for a change especially Karen, and it caught on with Karen too, although she could still be a bit of a cow sometimes. Although I never moved back into my bedroom, I do receive a very warm welcome at home now, as well as at Cheryl's place.

I made up made up with her on advice from Russ and Gemma, at a summer barbecue party at Frank and Polly's house (with Granddads passing and Dad's chilling down, the 'aunt and uncle' bit had kind of slipped).

"Hey, Karen," I said to my sister, and she spun. I was in a one-shoulder light cotton flowery summer dress that looked great; yeeeeeeeeeeah, I'd borrowed one from Gemma, then bought a couple from the internet.

"Hi... Jaime," she said, at a bit of a loss. The last time we'd been this close she tried to hit me.

"You look amazing, Karen," I said genuinely, and she did. The weight she had gained in the years I'd been gone had been dieted away, mostly thanks to Mum.

"Thank you," she said with narrowed eyes. Like me, she hadn't been raised to people saying nice things about her.

"That's a great top," I added, "you need a different bra though!"

I was channelling Gemma, Cheryl, Debs, all those wonderful women who had taken my hand and dragged me into the world of clothes that my Mum never bought.

"What?" she hissed, so I reached out a hand, took hers and pulled her into the house and up to the spare room that Russ and I were staying in. I pulled the door closed and popped my suitcase.

"Take your blouse off," I said without looking at her, adding a big sister, "Come on, chop-chop," in the same way Dad had.

She was wearing a very boring, very plain white bra that lifted and separated her big tits, virtually the same as mine, and a wide flowing very boring skirt.

I found the 'spare' Wonderbra, one of my older ones that was going to be sacrificial in my moves to get my sister back. I threw it across to her,

"Put it on," I threw it across to her. "They're just tits, Babe," I said with raised eyebrows, just as Cheryl had to me. Karen turned her back and put on her bra the same way that I did, clip it closed at the front, slide it round and pull the straps and cups up over me. "That's the same way I do up my bra!" I said with a bonding sisterly smile.

I stepped up and straightened her tits in them just as Cheryl, and latterly Gemma, had done when it had been my turn. Karen looked a bit shocked, but went with it.

I took out a much lighter and much more cropped top from the suitcase and held it up to her.

"Try this instead," I said with a big grin. Karen took it.

"Look, this isn't some kind of joke you've got going on is it, I have said so..."

"Karen, it's not a joke." I had planned to act all choked up, but I didn't need to act, "We both had it tough with Dad, but I..." I wiped the real tear under my eye. "I escaped, but I just left you there." I sat on the bed. "And I'm sorry!" I hissed.

"What?"

I had real tears now,

"I'm your big sister and I left you there! I left you in that house where to survive, you had to come out fighting." I wiped my eyes. "You came out fighting because it was all you knew. I had good friends, wonderful friends at work, but I just left you at home, in the wannabe army base where it was fight your way to the top. I left you there and I'M SORRY!" I cried again.