For The Death Of Me

5

Prim stayed with us until past the kids’ bedtime. She wanted to say goodnight to Tom, and that was fine, although I insisted that Ethel should get them all ready as usual, again so that he wouldn’t feel different from the others. I like to think that I’m a considerate father; if I am it’s because I had a good teacher.

When they were all tucked in, she went to see him and read him a story, probably something from his A. A. Milne collection. When she came back out to the terrace, where Susie and I had supper ready, there was a tear in her eye.

‘Is he asleep?’ I asked her.

She nodded. ‘I barely made it to page two before he was off.’

‘It’s been an exciting day for him.’

‘Are all his days like this?’

‘As many as we can manage,’ said Susie. ‘Oz and I decided long ago to chuck the parenting manual out the window, and spoil them rotten.’

‘I’ve got no problem with that. You don’t teach kids proper values by denying them things you can well afford. Making sure they appreciate them, that’s the trick.’

We’d invited Ethel, Audrey and Conrad to eat with us. I flashed the terrace lights to let them know we were ready, then opened a bottle of cooking champagne as we waited for them to arrive. That was when my cell-phone started to chirp.

I glanced at the panel; it told me that it was Ellen, my sister. I frowned; we kept in regular touch, but it wasn’t like her to call me in the middle of a Wednesday evening. I flipped Mr Moto open. ‘Hi, Ellie, what’s up? We’re just about to sit down to our tea here.’

There was a moment’s silence. That was all, but it sent a chill through me. With my Sis, getting a word in is usually an achievement. But it wasn’t my Sis. It was Harvey January, my brother-in-law. ‘Oz,’ he said hesitantly, and I knew for sure it was bad. Harvey is a QC, and not given to stumbling on the phone.

‘Who is it?’ It wasn’t a matter of ‘what’: I knew that. Something in my tone froze Susie and Prim in their tracks.

‘It’s your father. Mac’s had a heart-attack.’

We all spend some of our adult lives imagining, and dreading, moments like those, but we can’t prepare for them. My legs went limp under me, and I sat down hard on the terrace tiles. I didn’t want to hear the answer but I had to ask. ‘Is he. .’

‘No, but he’s very seriously ill. He collapsed at the golf club in Elie this evening; one of his playing partners was a doctor, who resuscitated him and kept him going till the paramedics arrived. They took him to Ninewells, in Dundee. He was unconscious when he arrived, and he’s being assessed now. Ellen’s on her way there.’

‘What are they saying? What’s the prognosis?’

‘They’re not making any promises, Oz.’

‘Harvey, I’m on my way.’

‘I’ll tell Ellen. With luck you should get there around midday tomorrow.’

I glanced at my watch: it was ten past eight. ‘Fuck that. I’ll be there tonight.’

I snapped the phone closed and picked myself up. Susie took hold of my arms. ‘What is it?’

‘Dad. Heart-attack.’ Just at that moment, Conrad and Audrey walked out on to the terrace. They saw me and their expressions changed.

‘Audrey, I want a private jet on the ground at the nearest available airport, ready to take off in half an hour and fly me to Dundee, or as near as they’ll let me land. Have an air taxi in position at the heliport right away. Conrad, I want you with me. This will go public and I cannot be fucked about by the media. Susie, drive us to the chopper pad; you can drop Prim back at the Columbus. Prim, find Dylan and tell him to stick around till further notice. I’ll cover his hotel tab.’

‘I’m coming,’ Susie protested.

‘No, love, you stay here with the kids for now: it would only alarm them if we both left. If it goes bad, you’ll all be over there soon enough.’

She saw the sense of that and nodded. Nobody else questioned anything: that wouldn’t have been wise.