Come Back to Me

‘One time I actually caught you with your trousers down, don’t you mean,’ Emily retorted, arms folded, lips pursed.

Mark was gaping at them, lost for words, and a quick glance at Di’s stunned expression told him he wasn’t the only one. The sagging sofa didn’t seem so bad now; in fact, he wondered if he leaned back a little further, whether it might swallow him whole. If they weren’t blocking the doorway, he’d have made a dash for it rather than have to listen to any more of this.

Di recovered first. ‘Mum, Dad, stop it,’ she said firmly, going over and tugging on their arms as they glared at one another. ‘Sit down, both of you, and keep it down, you’ll wake the kids.’ She pushed them in the direction of vacant seats, and then went and shut the living-room door before sitting again.

Now there were three of them in a squashed row on the sofa, like a jury appraising Henry in the adjacent armchair.

‘Parkinson’s, Dad,’ Di said softly, reaching for his hand again, though this time Henry was quicker and moved it out of the way.

‘Well, Claire’s husband has had Parkinson’s for years,’ Emily put in after a pause, though her voice was less strident, ‘and he’s not too bad.’

Mark was still assessing this turn of events, and trying to ignore the revelations he’d just been privy to. Alzheimer’s had been his diagnosis, he realised, surprised that his subconscious had thought this way all along but he hadn’t really acknowledged it. ‘Dad, what’s with all the drinking, and the weird behaviour then?’ he said, before he could stop himself.

Both his father and Di glared at him.

‘I may have been on the sauce rather heavily of late,’ his dad replied huffily, ‘but I have been coming to terms with things.’

‘I see,’ Mark said, not knowing how to follow this up.

‘Typical,’ Emily snorted, still with no apparent sympathy in her voice. ‘Always thinking of yourself – oh, what does it mean for me – never mind what it means for the rest of the family. We’re the ones who’ll end up nursing you and putting up with your moods.’

‘It’s hard to tell that you even care, Emily,’ Henry said sarcastically.

‘Of course I care,’ Emily snapped, sounding anything but sympathetic. ‘Although you make it mighty hard at times. But if you want my support, you have to earn it – if you want to have a little self-pity party, then you’re on your own.’

Henry opened his mouth to reply, then seemed lost for words. This shocked Mark as much as any of the other revelations of the night. He was also reeling from the dawning comprehension that his mother and father didn’t really seem to like one another much. Why hadn’t this registered with him before? Thinking back on it, he’d never seen them being loving. They were merely civil – in fact, the times they seemed most together were when they held court in front of others at dinner parties, or at family gatherings. Then there was a united front, but he hadn’t thought that behind it they were actually miserable. However, judging by what he’d seen tonight, a front was all it really was. Was this the end for them, now things were out in the open? Divorcing parents, at his age. How embarrassing.

‘What do the doctors say?’ Di asked.

‘A lot,’ Henry said, turning to her. ‘I’ve got a specialist. I’m only in the early stages, and they’ve got various medications they can try nowadays, apparently.’ He sounded disgusted at the thought.

‘Dad,’ Di said, sounding upset now. ‘That’s good. You know, you’re not in this alone.’ She reached across and stroked his arm, since Henry had kept his hand tucked away.

‘I’d be better off in a home out of everyone’s sight,’ Henry mumbled. ‘Less embarrassment all round.’ He looked pointedly at his wife.

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Emily said. ‘Come home, Henry. Go to the doctor’s. Get on with your life. Stop all this silliness. You said yourself that it’s been caught early. It’s not the end of the world.’

Henry flared up again, but the spark of it was diminished now. ‘Easy for you to say,’ he said wearily. ‘Wait until you get a diagnosis like this.’

Emily looked like she was about to snap back, but then Mark’s phone began beeping. He pulled it out of his pocket. Neil’s name was flashing on the screen.

‘I’ve got to take this,’ he told them, pushing himself up off the sofa with an effort, and hurrying out of the living room. ‘Neil,’ he said, while going outside, not wanting to be accused of waking Di’s boys.

‘Mark,’ Neil sounded weary and tense, ‘have you heard about Chloe?’

Mark felt his heart do a quick, painful tremble in his chest. ‘No? What’s happened?’

‘She collapsed at work, and was taken to hospital. Turns out, she was pregnant. Now she’s been consigned to bed rest for two bloody weeks! Mark, I need you to help me handle everything she’s dropped, this is the worst possible time -’

Neil sounded almost frantic now, which temporarily turned Mark’s mind from worrying about Chloe.

‘Of course,’ Mark said. ‘Surely the family law can wait for her, or one of the legal officers can help out there? It’s only really Abbott that’s urgent…’

‘Only Abbott!’ Neil replied, his voice rising. ‘I could have the whole firm working on this case and still not feel prepared – it’s a nightmare.’

Mark was surprised to hear Neil sounding out of his depth. ‘No problem, Neil,’ he said. ‘I’ll get in touch with Chloe and get everything we need from her, and liaise with you tomorrow on what else we need to do. Okay?’

‘Fine.’ Neil still sounded somewhat panicked. ‘Thank you. Good night.’

Mark snapped his phone shut and walked back towards the house in the dark, his feet sinking on the dewy grass. He felt he was missing something. He’d never heard Neil this stressed. Then he stopped in his tracks by the door. He’d said Chloe was pregnant. Did that mean…?

Surprisingly, he didn’t feel the relief he had expected upon thinking the baby might not have survived. He had thought of the baby as an encumbrance he would have to take on if he were to have a chance with Chloe, but he realised now that, deep down, he had imagined being part of a family, the three of them, and it had felt all right. Better than all right, even. Much better.

Di met him at the door and interrupted his reverie. ‘I’ve just left them for a minute,’ she told him, looking worried, as though they might hear a scuffle break out at any second.

‘Okay,’ Mark said. ‘Look, I can’t stay too much longer.’

Di nodded. ‘I’ll take Dad back home tomorrow. Let him pack his stuff and get himself organised.’

‘Right.’ Mark was still distracted by the tone he had heard in Neil’s voice.

‘You should come more often,’ Di continued quietly. ‘The boys would love to see their uncle a bit more.’

‘Hmmm,’ Mark replied, then registered what she’d said and looked around. ‘Yes, I -’

But Diane had turned away and was heading for the kitchen. ‘Tea?’ she called over her shoulder.

‘Please,’ Mark said in reply. He walked towards the living room. He would have a quick drink, then get away. He wanted to sit in silence for a while and process everything he’d heard tonight. His Dad. Parkinson’s. Neil. Abbott. And he wanted to call Chloe.

There was just a chink in the living-room door where it hadn’t quite been pulled to. Mark headed to open it, then stopped as he saw his mother and father. His mother had moved to the end of the sofa nearest Henry and taken hold of his hand. They were whispering to one another, and the conversation still looked animated and not totally friendly, but their hands were firmly linked, and gripping on tightly.

Mark moved away from the door and headed to the kitchen to have tea with his sister.

88

Something was banging but Chloe didn’t want to acknowledge it. She pulled a pillow over her head, but it wouldn’t stop. Sighing, she flung the pillow away and then listened again. Silence.

She lifted herself on to her elbows and looked at the clock. Two thirty a.m. It must have been neighbours coming home late, banging doors. She collapsed back onto the bed again, closing her eyes.

A sharp crack against her windowpane startled her.