His face betrayed no emotion. I’m his daughter – I had to make an effort to ensure that mine didn’t either.

This meeting was a long time coming. We hadn’t parted last on the best of terms. The storm that was brewing for a long time had taken its toll when it finally ravaged. Un relenting , cruel and at that time, unbearable, it changed things beyond redemption.

No niceties, no social graces to be dispensed with , I took a seat on my own volition . My inane questions were given non committal answers. As I didn’t expect a return favour, I was not disappointed when I wasn’t given one – indeed relieved, that I didn’t have to make up equally evasive replies.

A gentle breeze wafted in and ruffled the day’s newspaper folded neatly on the table. I sat silently staring outside , at a garden that once was mine, at a kennel that once housed my beloved Jeff .

The fallout was worse than the bomb itself. Isn’t it always? Well meaning interceders or call it the interference of a gate crasher called fate, inadvertently dictated that from thereon things could only go one way – downhill.

We had all come a long way since . But that did not automatically mean the wounds were all healed. Some wounds never heal . Some hurts never really go away.

Swallowing my pride I said I had to take a couple of my books for my forthcoming exams. He shrugged in answer. Termites had invaded the insides of the built-in cupboards , and were all over my clothes, not sparing my books or the assorted paraphernalia I had collected over the years . A sprinkling of dust lay quietly on everything. My precious white teddy bear still in its browning cellophane wrapping , looked on dolefully .

I had the latest editions of all those books now. I didn’t really need the old ones. I didn’t take anything I wanted from that room. Instead I carried away some memories that God knows I could do without.

He gave me a searching look when I returned empty handed. I volunteered no explanations. Without warning I said I had to go.

While I was lacing up my shoes he asked very purposefully, each consonant and each vowel searing in its delivery “ Why did you come? “ In answer, I just looked away . Wish I knew !

When things went wrong, as they are wont to, I took it personally. Common sense could explain it away as the inevitable play of chance , but for me, it was yet another opportunity for my conscience to drag in the duty-not-done clause. Was I foolish enough to think a one off visit could magically undo everything that had gone wrong ? Maybe I was more naïve than I cared to admit.

As the car moved away I scanned his face for any hint of emotion – hate , pain, regret ? None.

The next time your heart bleeds for the old man who lives all alone in the large and empty haunted house, ask me : I’ll give you – the other side of the story.

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