‘Hello?’ The reception isn’t great.
‘Callum, I’m sorry. I know you’re away with Abby, but it’s your dad.’ Linda’s voice cracks. She holds it together long enough to explain.
‘Is he hurt?’ I screw my eyes tightly shut and brace myself for the worst, realising it’s a phone call I’ve been subconsciously waiting for.
‘I don’t know. That’s the problem. I can’t find him anywhere.’ Linda blames herself, she always does.
‘Did you ring the hospitals?’ At least she doesn’t say he’s dead. It isn’t the first time he’s gone walkabout. It won’t be the last, once we get him home in one piece that is.
‘Yes. And the guards. Nobody’s seen him.’ A worried sob escapes her.
‘I’m on my way. Keep calm, he’ll turn up. He always does.’ I end the call and sigh heavily.
Abby lingers in the doorway. ‘Everything okay?’ she asks tentatively, tucking her wavy hair behind her ears.
‘Dad’s gone walkabout. I have to go and look for him.’ I cross the room and put my arms around her, inhaling the familiar scent of her exotic fruit shampoo.
‘I’ll come with you,’ she offers.
I’d love her company, but she’s needed her with her own family to organise tonight’s party. Noel made it very clear that he didn’t often get his daughter home. It wouldn’t be fair to drag her back across the country with me. I’m ninety per cent sure Dad will turn up, he always does. Though there’s a niggle of doubt in my stomach that I forcefully shove down.
‘You stay and help Alicia decorate the venue. It’ll be a good opportunity for you to bond. I’ll be back as soon as I find him.’ The last thing I want to do is leave her at The Landmark, waiting for a man for the second time in her life.
She visibly cheers at the prospect of my return.
All I have to do now is find him. I throw on a hoody and hop into the Jeep. Abby passes me a reusable cup containing a strong coffee and two croissants through the window.
‘Let me know when you find him. Be careful.’ She blows me a kiss and takes a step back.
Noel lurks at the front door and raises his hand awkwardly.
I break every speed limit ever implemented in my rush back to Dublin. Worry settles at the pit of my empty stomach. Dad’s condition’s deteriorated rapidly even in the last few weeks. There’s no choice. He’s going to have to accept a live-in carer. Relocating him into one of those homes, no matter how nicely they’re decorated, is not an option. Neither is me moving back into that house, not unless Abby comes with me. Now there’s a thought. The place has plenty of room for a generous extension. I file the romantic notion for a less stressful day.
The rain in Dublin is damp rather than drenching. I hunch my shoulders, scouring the streets of Dun Laoghaire for a silhouette resembling my father. The obvious spots are none runners. I jog the entire length of the pier for the third time with no success.
We’ll be lucky if he hasn’t caught pneumonia in these conditions. I ring Brian in Cork, but it rings out. I fight the rising panic, struggling to summon places of significance to him, or my mother, somewhere he might be reminiscing.
I make a quick trip back to his house to check he hadn’t returned by himself. The way things are going, I’d never be that lucky. Clouds blacken overhead. At almost five o’clock, despair is edging into my soul, my return to Carrick’s looking increasingly less likely. A depressing thought which I feel utterly shit about. To abandon Abby at The Landmark again is unthinkable. But unless I find Dad, there’s no way I can leave. My stomach rumbles. The only thing I’ve eaten was the croissants this morning.
Cruising the streets in the Jeep, I scan the area. One thing’s for certain, if and when I find him, he’s not getting left alone for a single second ever again.
The fish and chip shop that Abby and I ordered take out from only a couple of weeks earlier looms ahead. I double park outside and stick my hazard lights on, weak with hunger. The smell of grease and vinegar wafts through the stifling air. A middle-aged woman in white overall and a chef’s hat shovels chips into brown paper bags behind the counter. There are four people in front of me. My feet tap the laminate floor rhythmically, I try not to look as impatient as I feel.
After what feels like an eternity, I reach the front and ask for whatever is already cooked, desperate to make every second count before resuming my search. She hands me an open packet of battered cod and chips, which I drown in vinegar before leaving the shop. Traffic’s quiet, I leave the Jeep idling and cross the road to sit on a low stone wall overlooking the sea, my spirits soggier than my chips.
The outline of a figure hunched over a bench ten metres away catches my attention. I jump to my feet, unable to believe my luck. Dad clutches his head in his hands, sporadic jolting movements imply he’s crying. Passers-by slow to look, but nobody stops to check if he’s ok. I close the distance between us in three seconds, lunging for him as though it were the final chance of the game.
‘Dad?’ I put an arm round his shoulder, and he turns his head sadly towards me.
‘I’ve looked everywhere, son.’ His sorrow winds me. ‘I can’t find her anywhere. She’s left me. None of her clothes are in the wardrobe.’ He wipes a stray tear from his cheek. I pull him closer to me.
‘She didn’t leave you, Dad.’ Though that’s exactly what she did. ‘She died, Dad, do you remember?’
His crinkled eyes screw tightly as he battles unsuccessfully to remember. His shoulders shudder again. I attempt to shelter him from his pain in an unnatural embrace. The rest of the world goes on around us, as his shatters yet again.
A while passes before he straightens up to apologise. ‘I’m sorry, son.’ He’s unable to meet my eye.
‘Don’t be sorry, Dad. I need you to be safe. Linda’s worried sick about you.’ I pull my phone out and call her. She answers immediately, relief flooding her voice. Dad stares at the ground, ashamed at losing it again. He picks at the chips silently while I wonder what will become of us all.
