Sara Foster - Come Back to Me

‘Not disturbing anything, am I?’ it said, and then there was a showy and rather irrelevant rat-a-tat on the office door.

There stood Henry, last seen semicomatose on Mark’s bed, where he’d left him an hour earlier.

At first glance, Mark thought it might have been worse. Henry was decked out in what appeared to be one of Mark’s pinstriped suits, with a navy tie neatly tucked in. But his father hadn’t shaved. And the waft of alcohol hit Mark and disturbed his recently breakfast-lined stomach at the same time that he registered Henry hadn’t done up the button of his trousers, which were straining badly at the extra bulk of him, plus he was only wearing one shoe.

Mark had a horrible flashback to the only time his father had come to school sports day, when he had run second in the egg-and-spoon race and caused a huge fuss afterwards, saying that the winner had made a false start and demanding a rematch. That had been excruciating, and it was about one hundred times less embarrassing than this.

He turned briefly back to the others, as if looking for help, but Neil appeared dumbstruck, and Chloe’s mouth was slightly open, though her face showed both concern and surprise.

There was nothing else for it. Mark sprang into action, jumping out of his chair and heading towards the door. ‘Dad…’

‘Not now, Mark,’ Henry said grumpily, and sidestepped him. ‘What are you fellows discussing?’ He glanced at the contents of Neil’s desk. ‘Ah, Abbott. Tricky one. Maybe I can help?’ And he sat down with a thump in the chair Mark had just vacated.

Mark looked at Neil, who was slowly recovering himself. ‘Henry,’ Neil said. ‘Would you like some water?’

‘I’ll get it,’ Chloe interjected, and rushed out before anyone could say anything.

Henry looked between Mark and Neil. ‘Good god, what’s wrong with you two? You look like a pair of imbeciles.’ He guffawed, with no apparent awareness that the other two men remained stony-faced.

‘Excuse me a second, Henry,’ Neil said. He gave Mark a studied look as he walked past him, and Mark watched through the open door as Neil bent and murmured into his secretary’s ear, her glance behind confirming the topic of their discussion.

Mark looked at his father. ‘Dad, where’s your shoe?’

Henry peered down at his feet. ‘It’s…’ He lifted up his leg and wiggled his toes beneath his sock. ‘I thought it was…’ he mumbled, and looked around the floor and under the desk as though it had just jumped off his foot and hidden itself nearby.

Neil spoke from the doorway. ‘Mark. A word?’

Henry was down on his hands and knees now, searching for his missing shoe. ‘Sounds like you’re in trouble,’ he growled from the floor. ‘What have you done now?’

Mark didn’t reply and moved over to the doorway, his eyes not daring to leave his father so he could intercede in whichever embarrassing move Henry decided upon next.

‘Della is ordering a taxi,’ Neil hissed. ‘What’s going on?’

‘I wish I knew,’ Mark replied, casting an uneasy glance in Neil’s direction. ‘He’s been like this all weekend.’

Neil grimaced. ‘You’re going to have to take him home.’ He turned to look at Mark. ‘Are you sure you’re up for this workload at the moment, all things considered?’

Mark’s heart sank. He wanted to be in on this case; and he didn’t want to be remembered for letting them down when they needed him. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘It’s fine – I can do what you asked, honestly, I’ll work on it all night if I have to.’

‘Mark, I don’t think -’

‘Neil,’ Mark said, his voice so unintentionally aggressive he feared Neil might react and sack him on the spot. ‘I can do it – I’m a good way through already – further on than it looks. I’ll bring all my research in first thing tomorrow.’

Neil sighed. ‘Okay then. It looks like you’ve got a lot to deal with today, but if you’re going to do this then don’t let me down, okay? We’re out of time on this one.’

‘I won’t,’ said Mark, wondering why he couldn’t have just taken the easy way out.

Henry refused to leave the office, until Mark told him that he was taking him home to show him the Abbott research as he needed his advice. It was humiliating, addressing his father in such a condescending way while Neil and Chloe watched. Neil had wanted to help them outside, but Mark had assured him they were fine, and had managed to steer his father through to the entranceway fairly quickly, just grateful that Neil’s office was near the main doors so there wasn’t far to go or too many people to pass. With the one or two offices they couldn’t avoid, Mark had looked in and waved at his colleagues, trying to keep up the appearance of normality, though since there was a secretary in on this, the episode would be travelling through the office gossip lines faster than the speed of light once they’d left, he was sure of that.

He was bundling his dad into the taxi when he heard his name being called. He turned around to see Chloe running up to him.

She looked at Henry in the car. ‘Mark, I’m so…’

He held up his hand. ‘Don’t, Chloe.’

‘God, Mark, I’m only saying -’

‘Look, I’ve got to go.’

She put a hand on his arm. ‘Call me, if you can’t cope with the work. I’ll help you. I’ve got nothing better to do.’

He looked at her hand and then into her face. ‘I thought you had just as many problems as me at the moment.’

She stared back at him. ‘My problems seem to have walked out on me,’ she said, her mouth a tight line.

Mark’s brow furrowed as he looked at her, slowly comprehending, then he heard a groan from inside the taxi. A look inside told him his father was going a strange colour, and the driver had turned around, eyeing him suspiciously.

‘I’m sorry, I’ve got to go,’ he said, and Chloe nodded and stepped back, then turned away and walked inside.

In the taxi Mark dialled his mother’s number.

‘Mark, I’m very busy,’ she snapped as she picked up. ‘What is it?’

‘I’m with Dad,’ he said. ‘He’s not very well.’

At that point his father leaned into his shoulder. ‘Are you speaking to Emily?’ he asked.

‘He sounds drunk,’ came his mother’s waspish voice on the other end. How the hell she could tell that from just a few words overheard down a phone line, Mark had no idea. ‘Is he drunk?’

‘Mum, Dad isn’t well,’ Mark tried again.

She snorted down the line. ‘I could have told you that years ago,’ she said.

‘MUM!’ Mark’s gradually eroded patience finally crumbled. ‘Dad is sick. Something is very wrong. I am taking him back to my apartment, and I want you to come over and sort this out. RIGHT NOW! My boss is going to sack me if I don’t keep on top of my caseloads, it’s a critical time at the moment -’

‘Mark, I’m at work right now .’ His mother wasn’t one for backing out of an argument. ‘I can’t just drop everything because your father chooses to -’

‘Dad just walked into the office wearing my suit with the trousers undone, and with only one shoe on,’ Mark announced. ‘From the sopping wet sock, I think he came all the way into town like that. He’s been comatose in my bed for much of the week. I haven’t had a straight word out of him. This is not just my problem, so stop being so selfish.’

He turned around to see Henry had fallen asleep, his head lolling back, his white-bristled jaw loose and his mouth hanging slackly open.

There was a long pause on the line, so long Mark thought his mother might have hung up. Then he heard her sigh. ‘I’m on my way,’ she said, her voice flat and defeated.