Henry had responded with a load of mumbled slurs, which Mark could make nothing intelligible of, but he seemed to have got through, as his father moved obligingly, and Mark managed to get him to his feet and propel him towards the bedroom. Once Mark had Henry sitting on the bed, he had let go of him, and his dad had immediately fallen smack back against the mattress like a dead weight. If Mark hadn’t been so cross and out of breath he would have laughed at the sight. It was too surreal. Henry’s mouth had opened upon impact and he began to inhale in gurgling snores.
Mark had taken his pillows from the bed and a spare blanket from the walk-in wardrobe, and dumped them in the lounge. He’d returned with a pint glass of water and the washing-up bowl – in case his dad felt like throwing up. To make sure Henry would see it, Mark left it on his father’s stomach, the bowl moving up and down gently with Henry’s breathing like a boat bobbing in the breeze.
Then he’d gone into the lounge, turned the TV up higher than was necessary, and nestled under the blanket, half-watching the screen while he flicked through his papers until he fell asleep.
When he’d woken up he’d had to go into his bedroom for clothes. Henry had moved in the night. The bowl was on the floor, unused, and the water glass was only a quarter full now. Henry was on his side, back to the room, breathing evenly, but Mark had the feeling his dad was awake. He was grateful for the pretence. He couldn’t even begin to frame a suitable conversation with his father since they had been thrust into such uncharted territory.
As he doodled on a legal pad, he wondered whether to phone his mother and tell her that her wayward husband had made an appearance, but he had no particular desire to talk to her either, since she seemed somehow to be holding Mark accountable for Henry’s actions.
He hadn’t got much done by the time everyone started arriving around nine. Half an hour later he got a phone call telling him one of his clients had decided to settle, which meant he didn’t have to go to court that afternoon, but also that quite a lot of the work he had been doing for the past week, not to mention that morning, had been a waste of time. Mark secretly loathed parties who chose last-minute settlements – they lacked the gumption to call proceedings to a halt early and save themselves money and their legal team time; and they also lacked the integrity to follow through on their cause. He was especially curt to the opposing party’s solicitor on the phone, and she ended the call having barely got out her final sentence.
A few hours later, he had just sent the temp running out of the office near to tears after he’d berated her for bringing the wrong case file, when David Marchant stuck his head round the door, glanced briefly at the secretary’s hunched, departing back, and said, ‘Everything okay, Mark?’
‘Fine, fine,’ Mark replied, leaning back in his chair nonchalantly, hoping he could replicate a confident, relaxed manner, which was in reality eluding him right now. ‘And you?’
‘All good.’ David came in and sank onto the chair opposite Mark’s desk. ‘I heard Dawson and Hamish settled.’
‘Yes,’ Mark said, smiling. ‘Eleventh hour.’
‘Oh well.’ David leaned forward. ‘At least you can shift that one along now, it seems to have been dragging on for an eternity.’
Mark had the feeling David was making small talk, and was intrigued. It wasn’t characteristic of his boss. He smiled and waited.
‘So,’ David continued, settling back into his chair again after a pause. ‘How’s Henry? We haven’t seen him round here lately.’
A-ha. Mark felt his shoulders stiffen and froze in an attempt to appear relaxed, then realised that was a dead giveaway. He began to shift a little in his seat. Neil and David seemed to accept his father’s frequent office visits, although Mark had managed to glean a few signs of irritation over the years when Henry overstepped the mark in company matters that really no longer concerned him. He usually dropped in to the offices once a week, and did the rounds, meeting and greeting people whose doors were open, offering advice where he felt it needed to be dispensed. When Mark heard his father talking to Neil and David, he was usually bragging about the heaven of retirement – long lunches after rounds of golf, afternoons at his club, where he dined and supped with former judges and barristers. It was obvious to Mark and, he presumed, others too, that his dad was struggling with an excess of spare time and a recess of status far more than he was admitting.
‘He’s fine,’ Mark smiled pleasantly, thinking of his father’s inert form in his bed a few hours earlier. ‘Just… busy, I think.’
One of David’s eyebrows twitched slightly. ‘Well, give him our regards, won’t you,’ he said, getting up.
Mark sighed impatiently once David had gone. His desk was cluttered with case files, but now he had nothing urgent he didn’t have any desire to look at them.
He thought of Alex’s phone call yesterday morning, and the piece of paper stuffed in his top right-hand drawer. He needed a distraction.
He looked at his watch. It was one o’clock. Her flat wasn’t all that far away. And he could drop off the Blythe documents to the barrister en route.
Don’t be an idiot, he berated himself. You’re not a love-sick teenager with bad acne any more. It was bad enough last time. You’ll just look like a stalker now.
Yet as he got up, his legs didn’t seem to be following his brain’s commands.
18
‘Mrs Markham to Doctor Chen’s office, please.’
Chloe got up and walked quickly to a bright blue door, knocking once and then opening it when she heard the doctor call, ‘Come in’.
Juliet Chen swivelled round in her chair and gave Chloe a smile. Chloe had only seen Dr Chen a couple of times, mostly for repeat prescriptions, but she was instantly put at ease by the other woman’s sympathetic bedside manner.
‘Hello, Chloe,’ Dr Chen began. ‘What can I do for you today?’
‘Well,’ Chloe paused, ‘I think I’m pregnant.’
‘How wonderful!’ The doctor’s smile broadened, then she noticed the lack of excitement from Chloe and asked, ‘And are you happy about this?’
‘Yes, yes I am.’ Chloe tried to animate her face but her features were like stiff dough. ‘It’s just…’ She felt tears prickle her eyelids. ‘It’s a difficult time.’
‘Okay.’ Dr Chen nodded as though she understood everything. ‘Let’s start from the beginning. When was your last period?’
‘About six weeks ago, I think.’
‘You think?’
‘I’m never very regular, and it’s always pretty light, so I find it hard to keep track.’
‘Well, I’ll take a urine sample in a second.’ The doctor moved to glance at her notes, then looked back at Chloe. ‘But I’d just like to do an exam. Is that okay?’
Chloe nodded, and wished away the ensuing five minutes as she lay on the bed while the doctor poked and prodded her. Once she was sitting back down, Doctor Chen turned to her and paused, looking at Chloe intently.
‘You certainly are pregnant, Chloe, but I would say you’re quite a bit further on than six weeks.’
‘Really?’
‘I’d say more like nearly four months, judging by the size and shape of your uterus.’
Chloe sat up, incredulous. ‘But I can’t be. I’ve had periods.’
Dr Chen smiled. ‘Don’t worry, Chloe. As you say, they’ve been light, and it does happen with some women. I’m going to get you organised for a scan straightaway, to make sure. But I’d prepare for a baby in about five months, not seven, if I were you. Didn’t you notice your stomach changing?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose.’ She had noticed the roundness to her stomach recently. ‘But only in the last week or so, since I’ve known. I just thought that was what happened.’
‘It does, but normally a little further on than six weeks,’ Dr Chen said kindly.