Page 46 of Little Wing
Dougie stared at him. ‘You’ve what?’
‘Just for a time.’
‘What?’
‘Something wrong with your ears, Douglas?’
‘You’ve come here – to take me back with you?’
‘Aye.’
Dougie laughed. His father didn’t. ‘Why?!’
‘Father’s instinct.’ Gordon levelled his gaze at Dougie. ‘Because it seems to me it’d do you good, son.’
‘Dad – I can’t just up and leave and come back with you for a mini-break!’ Dougie rushed a gulp of tea. ‘I’m busy at work – and I have commitments. And anyway, I’m fine. Honestly – you worry too much. I’m touched – but I’m good, I swear to you, I’m good.’
‘Well,’ Gordon said, ‘you’re coming back with me. Just for a wee while.’
Dougie stood, now irritated, too tired. He’d planned to be asleep at least half an hour ago. He’d planned to have a curry to himself, on his lap, watching an episode or two ofThe Sopranos. But his dad was here. Here with a purpose and Dougie’s conscience was rattled. ‘Da – that’s not possible. I can’t afford to.’
‘I’ll buy your ticket for you.’
‘I didn’t mean that kind of afford.’
‘What can’t you afford, son? The time?’
Dougie was now moving around his flat while his father continued to speak. He stripped his bed and brought the linen through to the front room, dumping it on the arm of the sofa while he disappeared to lay fresh sheets on his bed for his father. He came back in with a bath towel.
Gordon watched him. ‘Or would it be the possibility that once you’re back home,air ais dhachaigh– back on the island – you might find it’s precisely where you need to be? Is that what you are afraid of?’
If Dougie’s frustration showed, Gordon ignored it, turned a blind eye to the muscles twitching in his son’s cheek.
‘I feel really bad that you had to come all this way.’ Dougie tried a different tack. ‘I wish you’d phoned, I could’ve saved you the journey.’ He regretted that last sentence as soon as it was out.
‘I did phone,’ said Gordon levelly. ‘Two – three times.’
‘Look,’ said Dougie, ‘look.’ He blinked his gaze away from the map of the island. ‘I’m working tomorrow but why don’t you stay for a couple of days. Giveyourselfa mini-break. Maybe you need it more than me. I’ll take some time off – we can hang out. Do stuff. See places.’
Gordon, carefully planning his response, stared at the sofa.
‘I’ll kip on the sofa,’ said Dougie. ‘I’ve made my bed up for you.’
‘Oh, here will do for me very well,’ said Gordon. Where he was to sleep was irrelevant, really. ‘There’s something amiss, Dougie, in your life. And the answers aren’t here –a’ fuireach air tìr mòr– living in this big city and you just a tiny speck on your own.’
‘Well – I’ve changed all the sheets now. And here’s a towel. Plenty of hot water but I’d better think about my getting some shut-eye now. Like I said, in a month or two I’ll take time off and visit.’
Gordon stood very straight, very still. ‘You were almost home the other week – and your voice, Douglas. I heard it in your voice. You forget – I’m your father.’
Dougie rubbed at his forehead. ‘And you forget – I’m thirty-eight years old.’
Gordon was resolute. ‘All the more reason, therefore.’
He watched his son snatching and pulling the sheets into a semblance of a bed on the sofa, noted the redness to his face, the inwardness of his eyes, lips tight against further words.
OK. OK.
‘OK,’ said Gordon. ‘We’ll sleep on it and talk tomorrow.’
