by Rachel Dove
‘I know, Dad, I know that. Listen, can we not fight?’
Abe sighed. ‘I don’t want to fight, son. I regret that fight so much. I feel like I pushed you to go to Dubai, to get away from your old man.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I know I pushed you too hard, but it was only ever meant with love. Son, I want the best for you. And Annabel. You’re still working, right? I assume you have a contract?’
Harry gripped the phone tight, looking around the locker room he was standing in. ‘Yeah, I have a few months left on this one.’
‘Well, then. You have obligations. You can’t just up and leave. It’s not the best time. Let things calm down a while, okay?’
‘Dad, are you sure about this? Do I call her or what? Are you sure she’s okay?’
‘Yes, son, and I wouldn’t call her. It’s not the right time. Your first meeting can’t be on the phone. There’s too much to say. Trust me, I want to help you, but listen to me. Stay where you are. Let’s talk again soon, okay?’
Harry sighed, the adrenalin from the call leaving him. ‘Okay, Dad. Listen, I’d better go. I’m not finished on shift yet, and my break’s nearly over.’
‘Okay, son, you take care. Remember what I said. And Harry?’
‘Yeah, Dad?’
‘It’s really nice to hear your voice, son. Don’t leave it so long next time.’
Harry promised to call again soon, feeling homesick and torn in half with his emotions. This was why he’d never called before. Ignoring people’s existence didn’t make you want to hop on a flight home. Hearing his father’s voice, and Annabel’s, all in one night had torn down the defences he’d built up all these years. Denial and hiding were wonderful things, but it only took a small chink in the armour to show the cracks.
He’d stayed away for so many reasons, but he realised now he just had to take his shot. He had to go home, to put the past to bed if nothing else. He didn’t want to be an old man full of regrets. He’d done the deathbed revelations. When the treatment had made him weak and scared, all he’d wanted was his family around him. He didn’t want to be there again, years from now, with nothing but empty chairs around him.
The next day he gave notice on his job and made plans to come back to London. It was time. Annabel wanted him to come home, and he wanted to be there. He didn’t tell his dad. With his notice period, he figured enough dust would have settled. He couldn’t wait any more. He’d wasted enough time already. He had to take his shot, try to get the life he wanted back. He just didn’t know at the time what that would look like. Certainly not discovering that he was a father—something he’d long given up on. He had to face his father too, which was an ordeal in itself. He felt weighed down more than usual with the guilt of disappointing the people he loved the most.
He was still standing on his father’s front path when he saw the curtains start to twitch in the neighbouring properties. Abe still lived in the house connected to his GP practice and he ran the place like a small village surgery, not like one of the many larger health centres in the big smoke. He was all about the people, and the care he could give to them. He lived and breathed their little community and had meant to keep it in the family. With a reluctant and unwilling son, that was never going to happen. They had had an uneasy relationship for years before Harry left. Made even more awkward by him leaving as he had.
They’d not spoken since the call home, but he had emailed his dad a couple of times. Just to say hello, nothing about coming home. He didn’t want Abe to talk him out of it or tell Annabel. He had wanted to come home and see her for himself, but that had gone out of the window the second Frank Jessop had hit the deck.
Swallowing hard and trying not to look too suspicious to the neighbours, he started to walk up the path towards the main house. He was just about to knock when the door opened, and there was Abe. The two men eyed each other for a long moment and then Harry saw the handset in his father’s hand. Lifting the receiver to his ear, he smiled for the person on the phone as he spoke, but the look he fixed his son with didn’t convey any joy.
‘I’d better let you go, love. No, no....’ he placated the person on the phone, moving aside to allow his son to enter the house. The lamp in the hallway lit his way and Harry walked in, letting his father finish his conversation while he looked around the place. Abe didn’t exactly keep office hours; some of his patients rang him to discuss soap operas, or to ask about their latest health niggle. Abe’s door was always open. Ever the medical professional. Like father, like son in that respect, if not much else.
The house looked much the same. The decor had been changed, sure, but Abe’s knick-knacks were all still there. The stack of books on his side table, science fiction and medical journals, mostly. The TV was on in the corner, a soap opera paused on the screen; the mug of tea on the coffee table was still steaming. It seemed Abe had already been interrupted from his quiet evening.
He could hear his father speaking in hushed tones in the kitchen, but Harry didn’t try to listen. His attention had been distracted anyway, by a collection of photos that he hadn’t seen before, all framed and in pride of place on the mantelpiece above the old coal fire. Another thing Abe was known for. His reluctance for change outside the world of medicine was legendary. The man would lick a yoghurt pot clean rather than waste a drop, and he hated technology in the home. He also wasn’t one for photos, but his collection had grown by the looks of things.
Harry smiled to himself as he looked closer at the photo of the three of them on Brighton beach, years back when he was a young kid who’d dreamed of being a superhero in medical clothing. Abe, his mother and he were all huddled together, wrapped in a towel and wet from their dip in the sea. It was one of his favourite memories of his mother, of them together. Abe had been different back then too. Funnier, more at ease.
Perhaps Mum was the one that held us together too. Without her, we were both a bit lost.
He could hear Abe ending his call, talking about meeting up the next day.
Still just as committed.
Harry smiled to himself. Some things never changed. He went to put the photograph back on the mantelpiece and his gaze fell to the one sitting next to it. It was of Abe, holding a fishing rod and seemingly laughing his head off on the pier. A young boy was waggling a crab at him, no fear showing on his cute little face. It wasn’t an old photo, and the boy wasn’t him. They had done that over the years, but he didn’t recognise the boy. He looked familiar somehow.
A voice behind him almost made him drop the frame. ‘So, you came home then.’
Abe was standing in the doorway now, in his uniform of shirt and tie, the phone still in his hand. His expression was closed off, and he looked tired.
‘Yeah, I did. I thought I’d come say hello.’ He gave himself a moment. ‘I’m starting at the old station in the morning. Permanently.’
To his credit, Abe didn’t react. He didn’t drop the phone or ask fifty-five questions about what Harry had been doing for the best part of the last decade. Or why in the last six months he hadn’t bothered to mention that he was returning home. In fact, he didn’t say much at all. He just stood there, staring at Harry as though he were a mirage.
‘Nothing to say?’ Harry tried, feeling the familiar sting of rejection. He wasn’t a child any more, but it hurt that his relationship with his father was so stilted. With a pang, he realised that he had repeated the pattern, albeit unknowingly. His son was seven years old and he didn’t even know his father.
Harry felt his head drop, the long flight and the events of the day catching up with him. His dad walked right up to him and pulled him into a hug. Harry was shocked for a moment, but wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tight. Abe was clinging onto him tightly, patting his back as the two men held each other. Pulling away, his dad smiled at him.
‘I’m glad you’re back, son. I really am.’ He pulled him back in for another hug, and Harry
felt the sting of tears.
‘Me too, Dad.’ Eventually, Abe released him, walking past him into the lounge. Instead of sitting back in his chair, he walked up to the liquor cabinet, putting the phone down and reaching for his best whisky. Harry didn’t move till his father was holding out a full crystal glass tumbler in his direction. They both sat down, Abe in his chair and Harry on the couch. As he sat back, he felt something stab him. Something sharp. Reaching behind him, he pulled out a plastic dinosaur. He laughed, putting it on the arm of the sofa.
‘Patients still coming in for a cuppa, eh? Someone’s missing a Velociraptor.’
Abe sat back in his chair, taking a deep sip of his drink before eyeing his son again. He nodded to the photo Harry had just been looking at.
‘It belongs to that little boy. He’s mad on dinosaurs.’ Another moment of awkward silence. ‘So, you’re staying for good? No fancy job to go back to?’
Harry felt like laughing as he considered his father’s words. If only he knew how fancy it hadn’t been at times. How he’d helped save lives in the sticky heat, after battling for his own life. It wasn’t all sand and opulence. He’d worked hard, saved up, kept a low profile. He’d stuck to the plan, to create a career. Spent many nights in his bed, thinking of the woman he’d left behind. Wishing she was there, sleeping beside him. Smiling at him over the breakfast table. Dragging him to see the sights on their days off. She’d been a ghost in Dubai, always following him wherever he went.
No other woman compared to her. In his mind, he’d never completely left her. He’d just walked away from everything else. With the job and his cancer, it had been all he could take. All he could focus on. He hadn’t wanted Annabel to deal with all that. He didn’t want her to derail her life and end up as a nursemaid to him. Looking back, he realised that he hadn’t been expecting to survive it. The thought of dying and leaving her out there all alone had seemed much worse than leaving her behind back then. Now it seemed, had he taken her with him, they would have been going through it with a pregnancy to worry about too.
He looked at the dinosaur on the edge of the couch, picking it up and running his thumbnail along its back.
‘Nope, I’m back for good.’
‘You got a place to live yet?’ Ever the pushy father.
‘No, Dad, not yet. I’m booked into one of the airport hotels till I find somewhere. It’s been a bit of a day.’ He turned the little brown figure around in his hand.
I wonder what Aidan likes to play with. I don’t know a thing about him. Will I ever?
Saying it had been a bit of a day was downplaying things, just a bit.
‘I bet it has. Too busy to call home first, give us a heads-up?’
Us? Who was that on the phone? Are the jungle drums already banging away?
‘You don’t need a hotel.’ Abe motioned in the direction of the staircase with the glass in his hand. The ice tinkled against the tumbler. ‘Your room’s right there. Cancel the reservation, stay here.’ He cleared his throat. ‘You should be close for work, you know. It’s fine, I have the room.’
He was trying to play it down now, but Harry was really touched by the sentiment. He kept fiddling with the dinosaur, his dad now pressing play on the television and settling back down in his chair. After the show had ended and they still hadn’t said anything, Harry decided to talk.
‘I came back because of Annabel’s call, Dad. She told me I’d ducked out of life for long enough, and she was right. I know you said it wasn’t good to come back then, but I waited. I worked my notice; I gave up my place. I’m back. I even got my old job back.’
Abe side-eyed him, his eyes narrowing to slits when he saw the little plastic toy in Harry’s hand. ‘Is that all you came back for? Don’t go breaking that either. It belongs to Aidan.’
Harry’s eyes snapped to his. His fist clenched around the dinosaur toy. ‘What did you just say?’
Abe sighed and, shaking his head at his son, he dropped his head. ‘Cut the crap, son. The dinosaur is Aidan’s. The boy in the photo is Annabel’s son. He calls me Granddad. Catch up.’ Before Harry could even try to retort, Abe had turned the television up again.
Harry looked at him, aghast. Looking from his father to the mantelpiece, he studied the photo. It was Annabel staring back at him. He could see it now. The little boy had her hair, her look. He stood and picked up the photo, looking at the others and seeing Aidan there too. The photos were all of Aidan. Aidan and his mum. Aidan and Abe. Aidan in his first school uniform.
He recognised Annabel’s flat in the background, the one she had once shared with her mother. It was all here, his life laid out. Somehow, Annabel had raised this child without him, without even telling anyone the truth. He felt a stirring of anger, but he knew deep down it was misplaced. How could he be mad at her after everything? He knew Annabel well enough to know that she would have made Aidan her priority. He couldn’t hate her for that. He loved her for it.
He wanted to shout at his dad though, for not calling him. He’d known all along, judging from the photographs. The similarities were obvious. Why hadn’t he picked up the phone? He had so many questions, but one shouted loudest in his head. Turning to his dad, he clenched his jaw.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’
Abe jumped at his words, and the television was swiftly turned off. Turning to look at him, his face determined now, he walked over to his son and embraced him in another hug. Harry being so much bigger than he, Abe chose to wrap his arms around Harry’s waist. He squeezed him tight.
‘Annabel never told me, but I knew. I’m not stupid, I did the math. We weren’t exactly on speaking terms, were we? She told everyone a story, and she had no one in her corner. I love that boy; Aidan is the best thing you ever did. It made losing you that bit more bearable, if I’m honest. I missed you, son. I regret so much of our time together. I’m so sorry I was so pushy. I should have been a better father, but being a grandfather is the best thing ever. I was there for him, and he knows about you. I’ve told him so many stories about you over the years. I wanted to tell you, but it wasn’t my decision. Can you forgive me?’
Harry looked at his dad, and nodded slowly. ‘I get it, Dad. I don’t like it, but I get it. How can I make any of this right?’
‘You ask that very question, son, you ask that very question.’ Patting him on the back like he used to when he was a boy, Abe gripped his hand tight. ‘Welcome home, son. We have some work to do.’
* * *
Annabel Sanders was a shadow of her former self the next morning as she walked into work. She’d barely got a wink of sleep, moving from side to side in the king-size bed she’d splurged on as a housewarming present to herself. Aidan’s room was finished, the first room she’d tackled as soon as she’d got the keys to her dream house. It wasn’t a shiny new-build on some labyrinth estate, but very much a fixer-upper. Maud, the old lady who’d lived there for many years, had passed the year before and with the life insurance her mother had left her and almost all her savings it was just about enough. She’d bought Elm House, the very house she’d walked and driven past growing up. The one she and Harry had once dreamed of buying together. That would be another awkward conversation.
I hope he doesn’t read anything into it. We are definitely done. We were done the minute he boarded that plane. So what if he still makes my stomach flip? That’s just chemistry. It will fizzle out.
She headed into Reception, using her key card to buzz through to the main ambulance station. As soon as she walked in she was switched on, all business. She ran the handover, the meeting room full of incoming staff, ready to work. It had been a quiet night all in all, but there had been reports of some gang-related tensions in the area. Often this meant injuries, RTAs. They liaised with the police regularly and kept their eyes and ears open.
She was just addressing the team on the issue when the door at the back of the room opened a
nd in slid Harry. A couple of people looked to the door to see who had entered, and a few more did a double-take. One of the nurses, Purdie, was one of them and the glance she flashed Annabel almost made her garble her words. She kept it short and professional, eager to both get on with the calls and get out of the spotlight. She looked at Harry, and he was watching her. He had a small smile on his face and when their eyes locked she felt her mouth go dry. It felt as if her tongue had doubled in size. She took a breath and dismissed her team.
‘Let’s get out there, guys. Stay vigilant, and let’s have a good day.’ People were just starting to leave when she spoke again. ‘Carter.’ She addressed him by his surname, as their colleagues often did in work hours, as a quick shorthand, looking at him and acknowledging him. ‘You’re with me. Ambulance seventeen.’ She figured it was better to get off on the right foot. Show the people she worked with that Harry was just another staff member to her and she was still in control. Try to cut the gossip short before it engulfed her whole.
Harry pushed away from his leaning position against the wall, and it was then she noticed that he was in full uniform. She’d not even noticed it when he’d walked in; all she had focused on was his face. She swallowed down the wave of nostalgia as she kept her eyes on his. She couldn’t read him, and it irritated her. Even after all the years that had separated them, she’d always thought that she would be able to read him.
What is he thinking, after our conversation? Is he going to let it drop?
‘No problem, Sanders.’ He said it easily, fitting back into his old role as easily as she did hers for the onlookers around them, even though their locked eyes said differently to each other. The room was full, thick with murmurs. Neither of them heard any of them. They just stared at each other.
Is he trying to read me too?
She returned his curt nod, and then the moment was broken. He was gone.
What is it about that man? I can’t help but watch him leave. And wish he would come back.