All the different SHADES

Life moved on— but Lucy knew that some things never changed

- Gabrielle Mullarkey

I started running in my teens. It helped after Mum died, especially if I'd just had a 'teen strop' with Dad (his words).

We loved each other to bits, me and Dad, but that only made our confrontations more combustible - 'You only hurt the ones you love' and all that.

I kept up my habit of running when I moved to London after uni. By then, Dad and I were on an even keel. Back home, he was happy working as a joiner. I visited him every other weekend.

Then, three years into that routine, I learned about Jan.

'I've met someone, Lucy.'

Despite the hopeful smile, he looked anxious.

'We've been taking things slowly, so I didn't want to tell you until we felt we had a future. I'd never try to replace your mum and I never expected to find happiness again. Jan is looking forward to meeting you, and if we can arrange something soon...'

'Stop, stop, stop!' I yelled inside my head while reacting outwardly with grown-up restraint, mostly by asking questions: 'Is she local? What does she do? How did you meet?'

As he replied, I marshalled my inner thoughts and my dismay that he was moving beyond Mum.

One of the things I loved most about coming home was reminiscing. 'Do you remember when Mum burnt this casserole dish? Oh look, here are the photos of us in Morecambe when I tried to eat my sandcastle...'

It was Barry who made me look at things differently. I'd met him one sunlit Friday evening when I was jogging in the park. Well, at first I'd only spotted him. Then he became a regular feature on my route. I'd look out for him on his bench, his Terrier perched on his foot. I stopped one day by 'his' bench to catch my breath.

He mentioned the weather, I remarked on the lovely red flower in his lapel, and that was that.