Archie’s shoulders shrug beneath the water.
‘Maybe you should truly make peace, instead of pretending to.’
‘Maybe.’ Fair eyebrows burrow into a doubtful frown.
‘You don’t have to decide today.’ For the first time in my life, I hope the media scandal goes on and on and on because I’d happily spend the rest of the summer here in this idyllic bliss.
‘Nice time at the lake earlier?’My cheeks flush scarlet as Roger wiggles his eyebrows suggestively over the dinner table.
Thankfully, Andie’s upstairs seeing to her father. One less person to witness my embarrassment.
‘Fabulous, thank you.’ Archie is unfazed. ‘Nothing like the simple pleasures in life.’ He winks at his brother-in-law.
Ground swallow me whole, please.
A hacking noise from upstairs prevents Roger from commenting further. I’d put money on Archie’s father having a forty-a-day habit in his time. His cough is relentless, but this bout sounds dangerously alarming.
‘Help! Someone help! He’s choking!’ Andie cries from the landing.
I leap to my feet, banging my hip on the table in my rush. Taking the stairs two at a time, I feel Archie behind me rather than see him.
In the room across the landing to ours, an elderly man is propped up in a double bed, his neck supported on a mound of pillows. Navy pyjamas do nothing to hide his frail, thinning frame. Andie’s next to him, attempting to force him forwards in the bed, as she slaps the space between his shoulder blades.
‘A piece of chicken!’ she shouts without stopping.
‘I’m a doctor. Let me at him.’ I push her aside, watching as his face turns increasingly purple with each passing second.
Before I can do anything, Archie yanks his father from his bed into a standing position, holding him from the front as crumpled sheets scatter to the floor. Archie’s hands lock into position on his father’s abdomen, and he begins abdominal thrusts.
On the fifth squeeze, the piece of chicken flies up and bursts out of his mouth.
‘Welcome fucking home, son,’ Archie pants sarcastically, but the relief in his tone is obvious.
He might pretend not to care for his father, but we all just saw the truth of the matter.
His father straightens himself as much as he physically can to look at Archie in the face.
His leathery skin is whiter than the bedsheets. ‘Thank you,’ he says, his gravelly voice ragged with exertion.
Archie places him back onto the bed like he weighs nothing before grabbing my waist with trembling fingers. His pulse thumps furiously in his temple. I squeeze his hand, hoping to silently convey how proud of him I am.
Leaving his demons at the door to save the man who unleashed them on him.
If that doesn’t make him a hero, nothing will.
28
ARCHIE
My heart beats at what feels like a million miles an hour as I take in every detail of the frail old man before me. The man who knocked out every ounce of confidence I ever had. Who relentlessly reminded me my mother died to bring me into this world and I’d better make something of myself.
He’s about half the size of his former self. Weathered skin hangs from his slack jaws. His shoulders are lost in those cotton pyjamas.
Andie fusses over him, tucking him back in. ‘Jesus, Dad, you scared the life out of us. What an introduction, hey?’ Andie turns to Victoria. ‘Victoria, this is our father, Wesley.’
‘Dad, this is Victoria, Archie’s erm…’
‘Girlfriend,’ Victoria announces, grasping his clenched fist and unravelling it with her slim fingers until his hand is slack in hers. She emits a natural radiance. An authenticity that not even Dad could miss. A kindness, a wholesomeness. Her smile is positively dazzling.
