Daddy's Girl

He sagged into the arm chair in a very self satisfied way. Hannah knew the look; conspiracy tinged with guilt. The question was would he confess willingly or only under duress.
“She's had a good week hasn't she?”
“What? Oh yes, Victoria, yes.” He rifled the newspaper and buried himself in it.
Under duress it was then.
She knew something was up from the way her daughter had asked to speak to her father. Not really listening she'd sensed the tone of the conversation change as she shuttled back and forth cleaning the dinner table. In earshot the conversation over the phone seemed to tighten, to become more cautious. Then, rather than join her directly in the lounge, even though she'd might it quite clear where the coffee was, he'd disappeared for 10 minutes or so. As light footed as he might try and be, his tread across the spare room cum study was unmistakable. Then the way he'd sidled back into his chair and promptly hidden behind the paper. All in all she found it rather endearing this attempt at secrecy. It all pointed to the fact that he'd done something that she wouldn't approve of, forgive him for yes, but forget, no. Victoria had done it again.
“So, what's happened?” There was no reply from behind the newspaper. “Your coffee will be cold, do you want me to warm it dear?”
The newspaper dipped.
“That would be very kind, thank you.”
He'd fallen into the trap, he'd answered, he couldn't pretend to ignore her.
“So, what happened?
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean William.” Full name, not the abbreviation to show the gravity of the situation.
“I was just having a father-daughter chat, that's allowed isn't it?”
Hannah smiled. The extent of indignation showed the seriousness of what Bill had done. Clearly he felt that she would really disapprove of whatever had been done. She stretched forward and curled her neatly manicured fingers round her porcelain mug. She liked the warmth and the aroma of the fresh coffee, it was comforting.
“Of course it is,” she soothed, “I was just wondering what you talked about it, that's all.”
“Well, your birthday is coming up...” His stern gaze met Hannah's soft smile. She admired the attempt at deflection. Not since Victoria was 13 had she paid any attention to her father's suggestions for gifts for any occasion. Money must be involved.
“What was it this time?”
“What do you mean this time?” The newspaper crumpled. He had that look of resignation in his brown eyes. Hannah knew she'd won, he'd realised it was futile to keep her in the dark, she would not stop until she knew what had transacted and he did so want his time with the paper.
“Can't be new computer, because you replaced that just a couple of months ago. I know you send a package of printer inks every month so it can't be that,” she was pleased to see he blanched slightly at that. “A new dress for some work's do, shoes or is it a weekend away...”
Hannah had been delighted when Victoria had got the consultancy job. It was lovely to have her home but, well, she'd had plans for the house and having her daughter as a resident again put a damper on things.
It was at the celebratory meal that the subject had been broached; too far to commute but too costly to buy. And so somehow they had ended up being half owners of a broom cupboard in town. But Victoria was happy and her husband had glowed. And that was it, he was always ready to help in ways which she felt where just slightly inappropriate. Victoria's job was well paid, staggeringly so (she'd accidentally seen the first pay slip, Victoria had left it on her dressing table), but the bank of Dad was always a temptation. Truth be told it had been like that for sometime, William always found some reason to provide Vicky, little or large, it was always something. Not that she was jealous, he was proud of his only child and wanted to celebrate her success. He did not stint on her, he had a generous spirit, it was one of his most attractive attributes. He was giving in so many ways. It was just that her daughter seemed to play up to it that little bit too much.
“You offered to warm my coffee.”
“You're right.” She uncurled her legs, which she was pleased to see her husband's eyes followed. She drained her mug and collected William's, rising in one effortless move. “Can I get you anything else whilst I'm up? She walked over to him, bending to kiss his forehead. She smiled at the way he breathed in her perfume. “You know I don't mind you helping out, but...”
“But... I know, 'let her stand on her own two feet' but it's hard.”
He watched her walk to the door. A pleasantly pleasing occupation. She paused at the door.
“It's a car.”
“Oh William.” It was more of sigh than a statement.
Hannah decided to make fresh coffee. She needed the time to think. Waiting for the kettle to boil the kaleidoscopic pieces began to settle and make a discernible pattern.
Two weekends ago Victoria had been home. It had been going so well until Saturday evening and her latest beau turned up unannounced. Well, unannounced to them. Victoria had been out with friends and returned with him all innocent as if it was some remarkable coincidence but Hannah could tell that it was a fix, a ruse to place her husband in a situation he could not get out of. Saturday had it's own rhythm and William need adequate warning if it was to be different. (After years of ferrying children around, socialising for work and just being seen out and about he felt that they needed to ring fence time for themselves.) He rankled about the intrusion, he grumped about the extra place at the table and then completely failed to find any irredeemable feature in the poor lad. To be fair Hannah had not been able to work out quite what Victoria saw in him. He seemed to be anaemic at best.
The one moment of colour was when Victoria raised the fact that her car was going phutt again. An animated discussion took place between Bill and the boy over the virtues of this car over that one. Hannah caught Victoria stoking the argument with a few well made comments, comments she knew would get her father going.
Hannah and William had gone to bed early. Hannah negotiated this to avoid another argument. Bill acquiesced, happier to be away from someone he felt was beneath his daughter, though he did thump and galumph round the bedroom. He'd only relaxed when he was sure Victoria had seen the youth off the premises and then, the following morning, it was not until his third coffee that William had re-gained his equilibrium.
She poured the coffee, enjoying the aroma that snaked from the mugs. She sighed at her daughter's machinations. Didn't Bill realise that he was being played? A car of all things! Hannah catalogued the other items. There was the lap top which was expressed to her when Victoria had somehow fried her old one. This was followed by a printer because the new PC was not compatible. That replacement seemed to also involve a regular supplier of inks. There was the interview dress, the office ball dress, the 'I'm meeting the big boss' dress. Little or big Victoria always seemed to contrive away of getting it out of her Dad. But a car!
Not that she'd lost out, reflected Hannah. Maybe they'd had to save, but there was not that much scrimping involved. For one moment she felt guilty, maybe this was something her daughter had inherited from her, this ability to get what she needed and wanted. But, after all, her husband's tender heartedness was one of his most attractive features and it had benefits in other areas, benefits she enjoyed she thought ruefully as she went back into the lounge. Bill caught the tail end of her look.
“I know, I know I shouldn't have but...”
“A car...”
Bill gratefully took the coffee mug from her. He paused and anticipated the first sip.
“You've got to let her look after herself Bill. She's all grown up now.” Hannah relaxed back into the sofa.
“That's easy for you to say. You get girlie trips to the shops. What do I get?”
Hannah looked at her husband. She knew the question was semi-rhetorical, there wasn't a good answer. Well, not one that would satisfy him.
“You see, I don't get to play any more. We built dens in the garden and played our own silly games. She thought I was the best dancer in the world as we whirled round the sitting room. You remember how we used to dance at Christmas? Well how long ago was that? There were the bike rides and waking earlier to make you breakfast in bed together on your birthday. Going to the pictures to seem some shlocky blockbuster that you wouldn't have even entertained going to see.
Hannah wanted to object but Bill did not notice.
“You see they have all gone. She doesn't call me to discuss her boyfriends, her work problems or even how to roast a chicken, that's your territory. What have I got? It doesn't seem like yesterday since we were holding hands and doing bed time stories. Every day has been a step further away. We're drifting apart. I realise that the arc of this curve began the moment I held her.”
“But...”
“Yes, I know it is inevitable and special. And I know one day she will turn up with Mr Right and that will be it. At least now I get to play just a bit. I'm needed and, it makes me feel good.”
“But Bill,” familiar name now. Hannah stepped across the room, perching on tthe side of the arm chair. She slid her arm round Bill's shoulders in an attempt to reassure and comfort. He looked up and she smiled down at him.
“You see?”
“Bill, I do see but...”
“I don't want her to feel she has to rush. I want her to know that we are still here to help and she does not have to rely on a turnip she brought back last weekend.”
“Yes I know Bill,” Hannah soothed, “But you need to realise when Victoria is trying to set you up.”
“What do you mean. I wasn't going to let my daughter drive the rust bucket he was proposing.”
“I know and so did Victoria.”
“So?”
“She broke up with him last Tuesday.”