by P. Craig
“Are you coming?”
Nodding, David walked up the porch steps, took his wife’s outstretched hand and followed her into the house.
***
She was watching him like a hawk. Her eyes, her big, unblinking blue eyes—exactly like her mother’s—were staring at him as though she couldn’t afford to take them off him for even a second, like he might simply cease to exist the instant she did.
As disconcerting as it was to be stared at in such fashion, what bothered David more than anything was the thought that if he were to die of a complication during surgery, then this—these last few minutes that were being spent packing before he left to go to the hospital—would be the last time she ever saw him.
“Don’t suppose you could do me a favour and grab my razor from the bathroom, could you?” he asked, looking up and smiling warmly—reassuringly, he hoped—at his daughter.
Nodding, Charlie dropped down from her perch on the windowsill; with her eyes still locked upon him, she walked towards the door leading into the en-suite bathroom.
“And can you pick up my toothbrush while you’re there?” he asked, grinning.
A flicker of a smile almost lifted the corner of his daughter’s mouth, but she quickly suppressed it, holding it back with a determined clenching of the teeth and a curt, almost military, nod of the head. Stepping into the bathroom, her head and upper torso briefly disappeared out of sight; they returned a moment later, little more than a heartbeat, with the razor and toothbrush clutched tightly in her hand.
“Thanks, Charlie,” said David, giving her a wink as she deposited the items on the bed next to his holdall.
Silently, and with her big, wide eyes fixed upon his once more, Charlie went back over to the windowsill. She folded her arms tightly across her chest, almost as though she was hugging herself.
“You’d be warmer if you closed that window,” said David, noticing a draught playing with the thin curtain next to her. To his anguish, however, he knew the reason she was standing like that had more to do with self-comfort and reassurance rather than a lack of warmth.
“It doesn’t close,” she said quietly, the first words she had said since he had told her where he was going and why he was going there—all of it.
“Sure, it does,” he said, frowning. “You’ve got to give the catch a bit of a tug, that’s all.”
“I’m fine with the window open,” Charlie said flatly, nibbling at a fingernail—a bad habit she had developed long ago from watching him.
“Maybe,” said David, zipping up the holdall, “but your mother likes a warm room at night, so I’m going to close it anyway.”
Her eyes narrowing slightly, Charlie pushed herself away from the window and walked across to the other side of the bedroom, where she leaned against the wall.
David pushed the curtain to one side and grabbed the window catch. He gave it a pull but found it stiffer than he remembered; at the third attempt, he managed to close the window. I should have fixed this damn thing long ago.
Outside in the yard, the headlights of a car making its way up the hill were bouncing off the overhanging foliage.
“Looks like my taxi’s... almost here,” David said with a slight grunt, as he gave the catch one last good tug before he was satisfied that he’d properly shut the window. Probably for the first time ever.
“I’ll take your bag down for you, if you like?” Charlie asked anxiously; her blank, impassive face had now suddenly come to life and her eyes, those big, blue eyes, were filling with tears. “It’s the least I can do...”
David smiled gratefully and nodded. Anything to keep her from crying.
As he watched Charlie walk over to the bed and pick up the holdall, the realisation struck him that, although she really was now almost a woman, she was still very much a young girl; she depended greatly on him and her mother for guidance and support. What he had just told her, what he had tried unsuccessfully to keep from her, was doing every bit as much damage to her emotions as he had feared it would. She was doing her best to hold her feelings in check, she really was, but she had been so unprepared for the news, so emotionally unready, that standing in near total silence, watching him with unblinking eyes, was all that she had seemed capable of doing. Perhaps, David wondered, it was his fault for trying to protect her from too much, for trying to keep the harshness of reality away from her world. But after what she had been through as a child, the terrible illness that had nearly killed her, he doubted he could have been any other way with her. What kind of a father wouldn’t want to protect his daughter?
A knock on the front door made David look back over his shoulder and out the window. The taxi had parked up and the driver’s side door was wide open.
“Dad?”
Nodding, David turned away from the window; sighing quietly, he followed behind his daughter as she stepped out into the hallway.
“That’s the taxi, David,” Emma shouted from downstairs.
“I’ll be right there,” he called back, and then hurried to catch up with his daughter. He caught her by the door to his study. “Are you going to be okay, Charlie?”
She looked up at him. Her eyes were still brimming with tears, but she wasn’t letting them fall easily. “I will be,” she said, dropping the holdall to the floor and suddenly throwing her arms around him, hugging him close. “But only if you promise that you are coming back.”
“You can count on it,” said David, suddenly finding his voice losing its strength and tears—damn tears—coming unbidden to his eyes.
“I’ll look after Mum until you do,” Charlie whispered.
The sincerity in her voice almost made him lose control over his emotions. Teetering on the brink, David hugged his daughter until he had once more regained his composure. Sighing, he picked up and handed her the holdall. He kissed her on the cheek and then sent her down the staircase with a whispered goodbye, a promise that he loved her and would return. He smiled as she disappeared out of sight round the bend in the stairs. Maybe she’s not quite so young and emotionally unready after all.
Another knock at the door forced him back into the here and now, and he started down the staircase.
Standing by the front door, Emma and Charlie had their brave faces on—smiles so wide and so fixed, they were quite at odds with the tears now beginning to trickle down their cheeks.
My beautiful girls.
David smiled at both in turn and wiped away their tears with a delicate thumb. He hugged Charlie and kissed her on the forehead; then he took Emma in his arms and kissed her passionately, fearing that it might be for the last time.
Taking the holdall from his daughter, he put a hand on the door handle and pushed it halfway down. “I'll see you in a couple of days.”
Charlie nodded and Emma whispered a final goodbye.
David looked away quickly, a tear almost breaking away at the corner of his eye, and pushed down on the handle. As he pulled the door open, the driver was standing with a hand raised, ready to knock for a third time.
The driver raised an eyebrow. “Taxi for David Carter?”
“That’s me,” David—the man—replied. “I’m David Carter.”
The driver nodded and started back towards his car.
David exchanged one last look with his wife and daughter, whispered a final goodbye, and then, as a tear broke loose and trickled down his cheek, he stepped outside and hurriedly closed the door behind him.
You’ll see them again soon, he told himself, and keeping that thought in mind, he climbed inside the taxi, settled into his seat and told the driver he was ready to go.
THE END
Acknowledgements
A special thanks to the people who either proofread or provided insightful critique on this novel during its preparation.
Many thanks also to several coffee shops in the surrounding area to where I live for providing copious quantities of reasonably priced coffee, free WIFI for procrastination purposes, and a fine selection of cakes
and biscuits to get me through the many hours spent on this novel.
Connect with the Author online
Twitter:
http://twitter.com/P_Craig_Id
Blog:
http://www.the-written-words-of-madmen.blogspot.co.uk
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Introduction and Warning
One - April 5, 8.42 p.m.
Two - April 5, 8.15 p.m.
Three - April 5, 5.45 p.m.
Four - April 5, 5.16 p.m.
Five - April 5, 1.25 p.m.
Six - April 5, 11.42 a.m.
Seven - March 21, 12.13 p.m.
Eight - February 8, 8.23 a.m.
Nine - January 30, 2.45 p.m.
Ten - January 30, 11.29 a.m.
Acknowledgements
Connect with the Author online