The Return
Narrow stairs led Gordon up to the courtyard. In the basement of a terraced house, a small workshop had been set up for repairing office equipment, where hed worked the last two months. The sky was smothered in a dull grey shroud, but no rain fell. Unusually warm for October. Dusk crept in early, though it was only five in the evening.
He didnt own a car, only taking the bus in foul weather. Gordon shrugged and stepped out into the street. Once, hed been an IT specialist, making good money, with a family. But a string of absurd, tragic events had taken them from him. Hed started drinking, lost his job An old university mate had thrown him a lifeline, letting him fix computers in his dimly lit workshop.
Gordon drank. Showed up late. Sometimes not at all. Today, Simon had warned himeven drunk, Gordon worked miracles, better than any sober man, but patience had limits. If this kept up, hed have to let him go. Gordon knew he was teetering on the edge. And it terrified him. If Simon sacked him, where would he go?
Streetlamps flickered to life as darkness swallowed the city. His body screamed for a drink, his jaw clenched with craving. Passing cafés, off-licenses, pubs, he forced his gaze away from their warm, beckoning glow, hunched his shoulders, and quickened his pace. He could hold out. Hed promised Simon.
He didnt consider himself an alcoholic. Yet without a drink, he lasted two days at most. Nights were the worst. Sobriety meant sleeplessness.
Therehis usual haunt, a shabby little pub hed often ducked into on the way home. Better to stop for a quick pint here than buy a whole bottle at the shop. But he knew himself. One drink would lead to another, some familiar face would drag him into conversation, and hed stagger home at dawn, head pounding, guilt gnawing at him. After a pause, he walked on.
There. Hed done it. Felt almost heroic. Until the next pub loomed ahead.
His flat was in sight now. One last shop stood between him and home. Gordon halted before its bright window, shelves lined with bottles glowing like a lighthouse in fog.
His feet moved on their own. But halfway to the door, he veered away, shoved his hands deep into his coat pockets, clenched his fists, and hurried past.
«You could still turn back,» a desperate voice whispered in his skull. Gordon broke into a run, breath ragged. Only when the stairwell door slammed shut behind him did he stop, gasping.
Sober returns were rare. Stepping into his bachelor den, he recoiled at the chaosclothes strewn about, dishes piled high. The fridge held little: a tin of sardines, a stale quarter-loaf, cheese gone hard. He ought to shopeggs, pastabut that meant passing the bottles again. No. He wouldnt die of hunger.
To distract himself until closing time, he cleaned. Tossed laundry into the machine, scrubbed plates, wiped crumbs from the sticky table, mopped the floor. Better. But the sharp scent of detergent couldnt mask the lingering stench of booze and smoke.
A glance at the clock. Ten shops could close in the time lefthe could still dash out. Then Simons stern face flashed in his mind. Gordon went to the window.
The house opposite glowed yellow with lit windows. He imagined families gathered around kitchen tables, couples curled on sofas watching telly, kids pretending to study while music blared through headphones Just as hed done as a boy.
A wave of loneliness hit so hard he nearly howled.
The washing machine beeped. He hung the laundry, sipped tea with crumbling cheese. The clock taunted himten minutes until shops shut. He could make it Instead, he dialled his wife.
«Gordon, I told you not to call in the evenings.»
«Nice to hear your voice too. Put Emily on.»
«Are you drunk? Shes asleep.»
«Im sober.»
A sigh. «Sleep it off. And dont call again. Emilys just getting used to Stephen»
He wanted to say Stephen wasnt her father, that she was his girl, that he missed herbut the line went dead.
Strange she hadnt blocked him yet. That fragile hopemaybe not all was lost. Womens «no» often meant «maybe.»
He made the bed with fresh sheets, lay down knowing sleep wouldnt come. The craving was a beast in his chest. But there was nothing left to drink.
***
Hed met Laura at uni. She was a year below. One day in the canteen, shed asked to skip the queue. Hed let her. Shed saved him a seat, eyeing him curiously. Back then, he was top of his class, the lecturers golden boy.
Theyd started dating. Hed helped with her essays, even wrote her dissertation.
«Whyd you pick this course? Shouldve done something girly. How will you work in this field?» hed teased.
«Youll work. Ill raise the baby,» shed laughed.
Thats how hed learned she was pregnant. She cooked well, kept house. Marriage seemed natural. In time, Emily was born.
When she started nursery, Laura took a job as a PA at a construction firm, using the computer skills hed taught her. Dressed smarter, wore makeup. Sometimes, hed see a car drop her off.
«I want a car,» shed announced once.
Gordon had dreamed of one too, but debts from their flat left no room for luxuries.
Then his mum died. Theyd rented out her flat. Laura took a loan for a car. Hed exploded.
«Gordon, Im tired. Tired of scraping byI cant live like this,» shed shouted.
«Is there someone else?» hed demanded.
«Yes. Im sorrybut I have to think of Emily»
Like he didnt? Hed slammed the door. Thank God for his mums flat. Hed refused to sell it. Alone, evenings grew unbearable. Drink numbed the ache.
Hed spiralled. Fired.
***
Somehow, hed slept. Dreamt of wandering fog, searching for someone he couldnt name. Then a voice»James!» But Laura only ever used his surname. He woke, heart hammering.
Dawn found him chain-smoking in the kitchen. One perk of bachelor lifeLaura wouldve banished him to the landing.
Simon raised an eyebrow at his early arrival, sniffed the air.
«Im sober,» Gordon said. «Need to slip out at lunch.»
«Thirsty already?» Simon scowled.
«Want to see my girl. Before she forgets me.»
Simon relented. «Make up the time.»
He waited on a bench by the school gates, watching the exit. Didnt dare approachdidnt want a run-in with Stephen, who looked at him like something scraped off a shoe.
No cars today. Kids streamed outno Emily. Had she fallen ill? Thena flash of pink jacket. He jumped up, waving. A black SUV screeched to a halt, blocking his view. Sudden dread. Why had it stopped?
He sprinted around the bonnet. The rear door gaped opena glimpse of pink fabric. A hooded figure slammed it shut. Gordons hand shot outcrushed between metal. White-hot pain lanced up his arm.
«Dad!» Emily shoved the door, tumbling onto him. The SUV roared off, clipping his thigh.
On the wet pavement, his hand throbbed, swollen grotesquely. Voices buzzed like static.
«Broad daylight»
«Call the police»
«Dad!» Emily sobbed into his ear.
An ambulance took them to hospital. Emily mustve called Laurashe was there when he emerged, arm bandaged.
«Dad!» She clung to him.
«Broken?» Laura asked.
«Just bruised,» he muttered.
«Thank you. If you hadnt» Emily buried her face in his shoulder.
«I told Mum everything,» she said.
«Stephen was supposed to pick her up. If Id known» Lauras voice cracked.
«Its alright. Shes safe.» He reached for her, but she stepped back.
«Well drive you home,» she said.
In the backseat, Emily eyed his bandaged fingers. «Does it hurt?»
«Not much.»
«How will you work?» Lauras reflection in the mirror was tense. Hed have cut the hand off to keep her looking at him like thatnot cold, as before.
At his flat, he offered to fetch Emily from school.
«Well manage,» Laura said, driving away.
But that evening, she called. «Can you cook with that hand? Ill bring soup tomorrow.»
Pity? No. «Dont trouble yourself.»
«I was thinking if its not too hard, meet Emily at noon tomorrow.»
Stephen? He didnt ask.
Next morning, he went to the workshop. Simon took one look at his swollen fingers and sent him home.
Gordon waited openly at the school gates.
«Mum and Uncle Stephen had a huge row,» Emily chattered on the walk home. «Dad are you coming back?»
«What about Uncle Stephen?»
«Mum kicked him out. He wasnt at a meetinghe was with his mistress. I heard. Shes not home, come on.» She tugged him inside.
First time back since hed left. Nothing had changed. Just small thingsa new kettle.
«The old one broke. Glad Uncle Stephens gone. I hated him,» Emily said.
Strange, sitting in his old spot, feeling like a guest.
He helped with her homework. Only the front doors slam reminded himhed overstayed.
Laura didnt seem surprised to see him.
«Dinners soon,» she said, vanishing into the kitchen.
They ate together, like before. Felt like stepping out of time.
«Homework done?» Laura asked.
«Dad helped.»
«I should go,» he said, rising.
«Its late. Sleep on the sofa.»
He lay rigid, fearing any movement might wake her. But she was awake tootoo still.
At dawn, Laura and Emily bustled about, readying to leave.
«Why up so early? Youre not working,» Laura said. «Fetch Emily at one.»
He wandered the flat, ate the breakfast shed lefttea and toast. Washed up, wincing.
Yesterday, Stephens toothbrush had been in the bathroom. Today, only twoEmilys pink one, Lauras green. Had she tossed his out too, like she had with Gordons?
He ached to stay. Would she tell him to leave? Should he go first? Or wait? «If»that cursed word. If she let him stay, hed crawl over broken glass, stay sober, find proper work. He was good at what he did.
In his pocketa crumpled twenty. He bought pale pink roses from the corner shop.
Laura noticed. Said nothing. Didnt send him away. That was something.
He still slept on the sofa. But at dinner, she began chatting about work. Like old times.
«Does the secretary still glare at you?» he ventured.
«Gone. The new girls nice.»
Sitting together, eatingit was enough. He realisedsince moving back in, the craving had vanished.
Maybe things could mend. He wouldnt drink. She hadnt thrown him out. Hed earn back her trust. The days settled into a quiet rhythm. He met Emily from school, helped with her homework, fixed the toaster that had been broken for months. Laura began leaving his tea the way he liked ittwo sugars, no milk. One evening, she placed a second set of keys on the hall table, just inside the door. He picked them up, turned them over in his bruised hand, said nothing. Neither did she. But when he kissed Emily goodnight and lingered in the hallway, Laura didnt look away. She just nodded, soft and small, like a door clicking open after years of being shut.
