Sunday Night Phone Calls (Peter, Lydia) Rating: PG
Father Peter signed the last of the reports he had left to do for the Abbey school. He felt his stomach rumble. He'd been neglecting food in favour of getting his work done. But now it was finished. He hoped he could talk one of the cooks out of some leftovers.
Standing, he made his way to his office door, turned off his light, and headed down the narrow hallway, where he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned to see his fellow priest, Charles, gazing at him oddly.
"Could I trouble you for a moment, Peter?"
"It's no trouble at all, Charles. What is it?"
"Well it's-there's a little girl on the phone for you, Peter. She sounds incredibly distressed."
Peter's face didn't register anything, but his heart leapt into his throat. Lydia. Oh no. "I'll take it in my office then, Charles."
"Yes. I think she's from the English Language School in the Abbey School. She asked for HER Father Peter Kemp. Must be rather attached to you. Kids'll do that. I wasn't sure if you'd want to take the call or not...it's not normal for students to ring their-"
"It's all right, Charles. I'll take the call."
He took the phone from the hall and stretched it into his office for the second time that week. Something had to be wrong. Lydia never called. She knew she wasn't supposed to. Katherine always called. She always dialled the number and said she was his niece before handing the phone to the little girl. In the back of his mind, he was just glad he could speak to her. It was usually months between conversations. It had been 3 days, but looking into the possibility that it could be years, it had been the longest three days of his life. Forcing his voice to remain calm, he said, "Lydia? What's wrong, baby?"
She sniffed and it broke his heart. But it was nothing compared to what was coming.
His daughter's voice was small and watery, as if she'd been crying for hours. "Daddy. Daddy, do-do you hate me?"
Try as he might, he couldn't keep his voice from shaking anymore. With his throat tight, close to crying, he said, "Lydia! Of course I don't. Why do you think that, sweetheart?"
Lydia was crying again, sobbing in between her words, "Because mummy said that you were never going to come see me again!! She said you hated her and you hated me and you'd never come back because you just want to be there with your new job! She told me you'd never call again and I wasn't allowed to call you anymore!"
Well, Katherine was right about him hating her. Right at the moment, he probably could have killed her, had she been in the room. Anger was an emotion so foreign to Father Peter, that he was confused about what he was feeling for a split second. How can you really respond what she had said, anyway? Your mother is a lying whore? Your mother is just jealous? Everything he could think of made Katherine the enemy somehow. That wasn't fair to Lydia.
"She's wrong, Lydia. Do you hear me? She's just wrong, baby.”
“But, I heard her yelling at you when I called last. She was screaming and afterwards she cried.” So Lydia had heard it all. He wished he could keep that from her. Damn.
“We just had an argument. I will come to see you again and I do want you to call me. I love you, Little Girl. I always will.”
"That's what I told her, but she called me a liar."
Peter shut his eyes and squared his jaw. That was it. "Can I speak to your Mother?"
Silence. And then, softly, almost as if she was ashamed, "Mummy's not home right now."
Peter's eyes narrowed. That explained how Lydia could get away with calling him. "Is Nana watching you, Lydia? Who's with you?"
Another silence. "Nobody."
Peter raised his voice for the first time in months, "What!?" Then he cursed himself silently, hoping no one heard. He waited, but the hallway outside his office remained empty. He figured Charles had gone down to raid the kitchen himself. So much for leftovers.
"Mummy went out after Sunday School. She went with a MAN, daddy. She called around but everyone was busy. She told me I was old enough to watch myself and she left with that man.”
After Sunday School? That was over eleven hours ago! That couldn't be right. Katherine could be a bitch to him, but she'd always loved Lydia. Doted on her, and dressed her like a doll. Something was amiss. "Lydia...you've been alone in the house since this morning?"
"Yes. I don't like it, daddy. It's dark now, and I'm scared. And I wanted to call you all day but I thought you hated me so I didn't, but then I heard a noise outside and I got too scared and I called you then."
Peter never knew something could hurt this much. His daughter had been by herself all day, frightened and sobbing because she thought her beloved daddy hated her.
"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."
"Mummy will come back, right?"
Every nerve in his body was screaming in fear for his daughter. God, how could Katherine leave her alone!? Anything could happen, a burglary, a fire, she could have cut herself on a knife or broken a glass and hurt herself. How fucking irresponsible. "Of course she'll come back. Mummy loves you, Princess."
"Can-can you talk to me for a little while. I don't want to be alone."
Peter glanced to the hall. There were shadows under his door. They'd be wondering what was taking so long. Let them fucking wonder. This was more important.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Thank you, Daddy."
"I don't want you to be afraid to call me ever again, okay, Lydia? But if you do, you have to ask for Peter Kemp. Don't say Daddy or Father, okay?"
"Why, daddy?"
Because they can't know about you. Because you have to stay hidden. "Because they won't know who daddy is. Just say Peter Kemp."
"Yes, Daddy."
His stomach rumbled again, and a terrible thought occurred to him. "Lydia, did your mother leave you any dinner?"
Silence again.
"Lydia?"
She was protecting her mother. He could tell. "Baby, did you eat anything?"
Shyly, Lydia said, "She said she'd be back by dinner time. But the clock says ten thirty. We always eat at six. And I don't know how to cook. Well I can cook in my easy bake oven, but I broke it.”
That stupid bitch. Of COURSE Lydia didn’t know how to cook. Katherine was very particular about her kitchen. She didn’t allow anyone in there in case they messed it up. Lydia wouldn’t know how to make a juice box let alone dinner. It was little wonder she'd broken a FAKE oven. Suddenly, he began to understand what Katherine was doing. She was using Lydia to punish him. She must have known Lydia would call him if left alone. "Okay, honey, you have to do some things for me. Can you do that?"
“Yes, daddy.”
He talked her through the making of a peanut butter and jam sandwich, and the cleanup afterwards. Then he talked her through brushing her teeth and putting her nightclothes on.
“I don’t want to fall asleep yet, I’m afraid.”
“Well I’ll tell you what. Go get your puppy from outside. Lock the door again, and bring him up to your room. He can sleep in your room and if anyone tries to get in there, he’ll bark and scare them away.”
“Can he sleep on my BED?!”
Peter smiled to himself. “Yes he can, Lydia. You tell your mother I said he could.”
“YAY!” He could hear her footsteps as the echoed on her mad run down the stairs and then back up the stairs, paired with the sound of tiny canine toenails. He was feeling relaxed, despite everything. He felt like a father. Even though he was miles away, he’d still fed his daughter, and helped get her ready for bed. And then, at her request, he told her an utterly ridiculous bedtime story. Her mother was still not home.
Lydia yawned. “You need to sleep, Sweetheart. Do you think you can?”
“Yes, daddy. If you can stay with me until I fall asleep.”
“Anything.” And so they sat, talking about everything and nothing until she fell silent and he could hear her breathing, soft and even. Slowly, he hung up the phone and sat there for a few minutes. Then he stood, and went out in the hall, returning it to its proper home.
Sure that the kitchen would be closed now, Peter resigned himself to going to bed without supper. He met Father Charles going the opposite direction.
“Long talk. What happened?”
“A girl from the school. She’s having family problems. I told her to call me if she ever needed someone to talk to. If she calls again, just let me handle it. I know the family.”
Charles nodded and smiled, putting a friendly hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Peter Kemp. A good man who I missed at dinner tonight. There’s a plate of leftovers on your bed. Better get it before the mice do.”
Peter let himself relax, and he smiled back at his friend. “Thank you, Charles.”
He sat in his room, eating his dinner slowly, savouring it. He needed to enjoy tonight. Tomorrow would bring much unpleasantness.
Standing, he made his way to his office door, turned off his light, and headed down the narrow hallway, where he heard someone clear their throat behind him. He turned to see his fellow priest, Charles, gazing at him oddly.
"Could I trouble you for a moment, Peter?"
"It's no trouble at all, Charles. What is it?"
"Well it's-there's a little girl on the phone for you, Peter. She sounds incredibly distressed."
Peter's face didn't register anything, but his heart leapt into his throat. Lydia. Oh no. "I'll take it in my office then, Charles."
"Yes. I think she's from the English Language School in the Abbey School. She asked for HER Father Peter Kemp. Must be rather attached to you. Kids'll do that. I wasn't sure if you'd want to take the call or not...it's not normal for students to ring their-"
"It's all right, Charles. I'll take the call."
He took the phone from the hall and stretched it into his office for the second time that week. Something had to be wrong. Lydia never called. She knew she wasn't supposed to. Katherine always called. She always dialled the number and said she was his niece before handing the phone to the little girl. In the back of his mind, he was just glad he could speak to her. It was usually months between conversations. It had been 3 days, but looking into the possibility that it could be years, it had been the longest three days of his life. Forcing his voice to remain calm, he said, "Lydia? What's wrong, baby?"
She sniffed and it broke his heart. But it was nothing compared to what was coming.
His daughter's voice was small and watery, as if she'd been crying for hours. "Daddy. Daddy, do-do you hate me?"
Try as he might, he couldn't keep his voice from shaking anymore. With his throat tight, close to crying, he said, "Lydia! Of course I don't. Why do you think that, sweetheart?"
Lydia was crying again, sobbing in between her words, "Because mummy said that you were never going to come see me again!! She said you hated her and you hated me and you'd never come back because you just want to be there with your new job! She told me you'd never call again and I wasn't allowed to call you anymore!"
Well, Katherine was right about him hating her. Right at the moment, he probably could have killed her, had she been in the room. Anger was an emotion so foreign to Father Peter, that he was confused about what he was feeling for a split second. How can you really respond what she had said, anyway? Your mother is a lying whore? Your mother is just jealous? Everything he could think of made Katherine the enemy somehow. That wasn't fair to Lydia.
"She's wrong, Lydia. Do you hear me? She's just wrong, baby.”
“But, I heard her yelling at you when I called last. She was screaming and afterwards she cried.” So Lydia had heard it all. He wished he could keep that from her. Damn.
“We just had an argument. I will come to see you again and I do want you to call me. I love you, Little Girl. I always will.”
"That's what I told her, but she called me a liar."
Peter shut his eyes and squared his jaw. That was it. "Can I speak to your Mother?"
Silence. And then, softly, almost as if she was ashamed, "Mummy's not home right now."
Peter's eyes narrowed. That explained how Lydia could get away with calling him. "Is Nana watching you, Lydia? Who's with you?"
Another silence. "Nobody."
Peter raised his voice for the first time in months, "What!?" Then he cursed himself silently, hoping no one heard. He waited, but the hallway outside his office remained empty. He figured Charles had gone down to raid the kitchen himself. So much for leftovers.
"Mummy went out after Sunday School. She went with a MAN, daddy. She called around but everyone was busy. She told me I was old enough to watch myself and she left with that man.”
After Sunday School? That was over eleven hours ago! That couldn't be right. Katherine could be a bitch to him, but she'd always loved Lydia. Doted on her, and dressed her like a doll. Something was amiss. "Lydia...you've been alone in the house since this morning?"
"Yes. I don't like it, daddy. It's dark now, and I'm scared. And I wanted to call you all day but I thought you hated me so I didn't, but then I heard a noise outside and I got too scared and I called you then."
Peter never knew something could hurt this much. His daughter had been by herself all day, frightened and sobbing because she thought her beloved daddy hated her.
"Oh, baby, I'm so sorry."
"Mummy will come back, right?"
Every nerve in his body was screaming in fear for his daughter. God, how could Katherine leave her alone!? Anything could happen, a burglary, a fire, she could have cut herself on a knife or broken a glass and hurt herself. How fucking irresponsible. "Of course she'll come back. Mummy loves you, Princess."
"Can-can you talk to me for a little while. I don't want to be alone."
Peter glanced to the hall. There were shadows under his door. They'd be wondering what was taking so long. Let them fucking wonder. This was more important.
"I'm not going anywhere."
"Thank you, Daddy."
"I don't want you to be afraid to call me ever again, okay, Lydia? But if you do, you have to ask for Peter Kemp. Don't say Daddy or Father, okay?"
"Why, daddy?"
Because they can't know about you. Because you have to stay hidden. "Because they won't know who daddy is. Just say Peter Kemp."
"Yes, Daddy."
His stomach rumbled again, and a terrible thought occurred to him. "Lydia, did your mother leave you any dinner?"
Silence again.
"Lydia?"
She was protecting her mother. He could tell. "Baby, did you eat anything?"
Shyly, Lydia said, "She said she'd be back by dinner time. But the clock says ten thirty. We always eat at six. And I don't know how to cook. Well I can cook in my easy bake oven, but I broke it.”
That stupid bitch. Of COURSE Lydia didn’t know how to cook. Katherine was very particular about her kitchen. She didn’t allow anyone in there in case they messed it up. Lydia wouldn’t know how to make a juice box let alone dinner. It was little wonder she'd broken a FAKE oven. Suddenly, he began to understand what Katherine was doing. She was using Lydia to punish him. She must have known Lydia would call him if left alone. "Okay, honey, you have to do some things for me. Can you do that?"
“Yes, daddy.”
He talked her through the making of a peanut butter and jam sandwich, and the cleanup afterwards. Then he talked her through brushing her teeth and putting her nightclothes on.
“I don’t want to fall asleep yet, I’m afraid.”
“Well I’ll tell you what. Go get your puppy from outside. Lock the door again, and bring him up to your room. He can sleep in your room and if anyone tries to get in there, he’ll bark and scare them away.”
“Can he sleep on my BED?!”
Peter smiled to himself. “Yes he can, Lydia. You tell your mother I said he could.”
“YAY!” He could hear her footsteps as the echoed on her mad run down the stairs and then back up the stairs, paired with the sound of tiny canine toenails. He was feeling relaxed, despite everything. He felt like a father. Even though he was miles away, he’d still fed his daughter, and helped get her ready for bed. And then, at her request, he told her an utterly ridiculous bedtime story. Her mother was still not home.
Lydia yawned. “You need to sleep, Sweetheart. Do you think you can?”
“Yes, daddy. If you can stay with me until I fall asleep.”
“Anything.” And so they sat, talking about everything and nothing until she fell silent and he could hear her breathing, soft and even. Slowly, he hung up the phone and sat there for a few minutes. Then he stood, and went out in the hall, returning it to its proper home.
Sure that the kitchen would be closed now, Peter resigned himself to going to bed without supper. He met Father Charles going the opposite direction.
“Long talk. What happened?”
“A girl from the school. She’s having family problems. I told her to call me if she ever needed someone to talk to. If she calls again, just let me handle it. I know the family.”
Charles nodded and smiled, putting a friendly hand on Peter’s shoulder. “You’re a good man, Peter Kemp. A good man who I missed at dinner tonight. There’s a plate of leftovers on your bed. Better get it before the mice do.”
Peter let himself relax, and he smiled back at his friend. “Thank you, Charles.”
He sat in his room, eating his dinner slowly, savouring it. He needed to enjoy tonight. Tomorrow would bring much unpleasantness.