“To be fair, this was Monica’s idea. She thinks I should spend some proper time with Beth and Archie, that we both should.”
“Really?” Hannah was surprised and impressed. More interested in what Carl’s money could buy them, none of Carl’s prior girlfriends had taken his parental responsibilities that seriously.
He opened his mouth to say something else but before he got the chance he was interrupted.
“Dad!” Shoving his whole upper torso out of the car window, Archie signalled for Carl to get a move on.
“I’d better go,” Carl said, turning to leave. “I’ll ring you when we get there, yeah.”
“Have fun.” Hannah smiled as she watched him head back to his car and climb in. Having thought the day would never come, she had to wonder if love was in the air for her ex-husband.
Carl pulled the vehicle away from the kerb and waving the four of them off, Hannah stood there until they disappeared.
With them out of view, she took a deep breath, not sure what to do next. Already, things seemed strange.
Going back inside, the house immediately felt too quiet and heading for the kitchen, Hannah glanced around. For all her bravado about making the most of being home alone, she let out a long drawn-out sigh. The month ahead suddenly felt like an eternity.
CHAPTER3
Letting himself through the back door and into the kitchen, Gabe headed straight to the fridge for a bottle of water. Unscrewing its lid and putting it to his lips, he squeezed the plastic, enjoying the cold liquid as it glugged down his throat. He sweated profusely and his body already started to ache. The mountainous run he’d just put himself through had been a challenge. It had forced him to dig deep with the balls of his feet and toes, all the while powering through with his arms.
As Gabe dropped the empty bottle into the recycling bin, he wanted nothing more than a cool shower. However, the sound of his dad, Roger, whistling let Gabe know the bathroom wasn’t free, he’d have to wait. Tempted to sing along to Roger’s tune, the lyrics to Bobby McFerrin’s ‘Don’t Worry Be Happy’ played out in Gabe’s head, an earworm he knew he wouldn’t be rid of for the rest of the evening. Having never liked that song, he wished his dad had better taste in music. “Cheers, Dad,” Gabe said.
Gabe had to admire his dad as the whistling continued to filter down. For a man in his late seventies, Roger had a great set of lungs. In fact, he was doing brilliantly all round and Gabe readily envisaged the man stood at the bathroom mirror, running a comb through his good head of Brylcreemed hair. Gabe chuckled at the thought of his dad stepping back to admire the result.
“You’ve still got it, Roger,” his dad was saying, at the same time clicking his tongue and pointing both index fingers at his reflection.
Finally, the whistling stopped, and Gabe heard footsteps coming down the stairs.
“You’re back,” Roger said, his face lighting up as he entered the kitchen. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
“I’m not surprised with all the hoot tooting going on.”
“What do you think?” Stood there in a navy suit, white shirt, and dark blue tie with a contrasting pink flamingo print, Roger held his arms out. Wiggling his hips as he went, he did a 360-degree turn to show himself off in all his glory.
A surge of aftershave scent flew in Gabe’s direction, and he tried not to cough. “Very smart. Who’s the lucky lady?”
“Brianna Dawson.”
Gabe watched his dad fill with pride as if the name alone should have meant something.
“You must remember her,” Roger said, clearly disappointed Gabe didn’t. “Blonde, curvaceous, beautiful eyes…” He paused as if waiting for something to click. “A member of the golf club.”
With nothing coming through, Gabe shook his head. “That pretty much sums up everyone you date, Dad.” He grabbed another bottle of water from the fridge. “Besides, your love life isn’t exactly easy to keep up with.”
Straightening his back and standing tall, Roger puffed his chest out. “You know what they say, son. Variety is the spice of life.”
Gabe unscrewed the bottle lid. “For you, maybe.”
It was at times like this that Gabe found Roger’s confidence hard to believe.
Gabe had heard stories about couples whereby one half couldn’t carry on without the other. A partner would pass away, and within months the person left behind would follow suit. Brought on by stressful situations and extreme emotions, it even had a name. Broken Heart Syndrome. When his mum had died, for a while, Gabe had thought his dad might succumb to his loss.
Gabe recalled how for months afterwards, if Roger wasn’t laying on his bed next to where his wife had slept, he was sat in her chair going through old photograph albums. Getting Roger to eat had been a struggle, let alone coaxing him out of the house. It was as if Roger had completely given up on life.
It was a period Gabe still found difficult to think about and were it not for the support group Gabe had eventually dragged Roger kicking and screaming to, Gabe genuinely believed he’d have gone on to lose both parents, not just one.
“Is there any point in me enquiring about your plans for tonight?” Roger asked.
