**The Return**
Climbing the narrow staircase, Gavin stepped into the courtyard. The basement of the block of flats held the repair workshop where hed been fixing office equipment for the past two months. The sky was thick with grey clouds, but no rain fellunseasonably mild for October. It was already growing dark, though it was only five in the evening.
He didnt own a car and only took the bus in awful weather. Gavin shrugged and walked out of the courtyard. He used to work in IT, earning decent money, with a family to come home to. But after a string of absurd and tragic events, he lost them all, started drinking, then lost his job too An old university mate took him on at the workshop, fixing computers.
Gavin drank, showed up late, sometimes didnt show at all. Today, Simon told him that while Gavin was a natural, capable of doing better work drunk than most sober men, his patience wasnt endless. If Gavin kept this up, hed have to let him go. Gavin knew he was spiralling, heading for rock bottomand it scared him. If Simon kicked him out, where would he go?
The streetlights flickered on as dusk deepened. His body ached for a drink, his jaw tight with craving. Passing cafés, shops, and pubs, Gavin kept his eyes down, shoulders hunched, hurrying past. He could resist. Hed promised Simon he wouldnt drink.
He didnt consider himself an alcoholic, but two days was his limit without a drink. Nights were the worst. Without alcohol, sleep wouldnt come.
There was the little corner shop he often stopped at on his way home. Better to nip in for a quick shot than buy a whole bottle. Except he knew one shot wouldnt stay one. Hed run into someone, linger, drink himself senselessthen wake with a pounding head, nausea, and shame. After a pause, he walked on.
Therehed done it. For a moment, he felt almost heroic. Until the next pub came into view.
His flat was in sight now. One last off-licence stood between him and home. Gavin stopped outside its bright window, shelves of bottles glowing like a lighthouse in fog. His feet carried him toward the doorthen, halfway, he shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, clenched his fists, and hurried past.
*You could still turn back,* a desperate voice whispered. He broke into a run, breath ragged, only stopping when the stairwell door slammed shut behind him.
Gavin rarely came home sober, so the chaos of his bachelor den hit him hard. The fridge held little: a tin of sardines, a stale quarter-loaf, a hardened wedge of cheddar. He shouldve bought pasta and eggsbut then hed have bought a bottle, too. Fine. He wouldnt starve.
To distract himself until the shops closed, he cleaned. Tossed laundry into the machine, scrubbed dishes, wiped the crumb-strewn table, then mopped. The flat smelled of washing powder now, but it couldnt mask the stale reek of booze and smoke.
He checked the clock. He could still make itten trips, easy. But Simons warning glare flashed in his mind. Gavin went to the window.
The building opposite glowed with yellow squares of light. Families at dinner tables, couples on sofas watching telly, kids pretending to study while listening to musiclike hed done as a boy. A wave of loneliness nearly choked him.
The washing machine beeped. He hung the laundry, drank tea with the dried-out cheese, but the clock still showed ten minutes till closing. He could make it Instead, he called his ex-wife.
*»Gavin, I told you not to call in the evenings.»*
*»Lovely to hear your voice too. Put Emily on.»*
*»Are you drunk? Shes asleep.»*
*»No. Im sober.»*
A sigh. *»Sleep it off. Dont call again. And leave Emily alone. Shes just starting to warm to David»*
He wanted to say David wasnt her father, that she was *his* girl, that he missed herbut the line went dead.
Strange she hadnt blocked his number. That fragile hopethat maybe not all was lostlingered. Everyone knew a womans *no* often meant *maybe.*
He made the sofa bed, knowing sleep wouldnt come. The craving gnawed at him, but there was nothing left to drink.
***
Hed met Lydia at university. She was a year below. One day in the canteen, shed asked to skip the queue. He let her. She saved him a seat, watching him with interestback when he was the star student, the one lecturers held up as an example.
They started dating. Gavin helped with her essays, even wrote her dissertation.
*»Whyd you pick this degree? Shouldve done something girly. How will you work?»* hed tease.
*»Youll work. Ill raise the baby,»* shed laughed.
Thats how he learned she was pregnant. She cooked well, kept house. Marriage seemed natural. Soon, Emily was born.
When she started nursery, Lydia took a job as a PA at a construction firm, using the computer skills Gavin had taught her. She dressed sharper, wore makeup. Sometimes, hed see a car drop her off.
*»I want a car,»* she announced once.
Gavin did too, but after scraping for their flat, he couldnt afford one. Then his mum died. They rented out her flat, but Lydia took a loan for a car. He blew up.
*»Im tired, Gavin. Tired of scraping by. I cant live like this.»*
*»Is there someone else?»*
*»Yes. And I have to think of Emily.»*
So that was it. He slammed the door, left. At least he had his mums flat.
Alone, the nights grew unbearable. Drink dulled the ache. Then it became the ache. He lost his job, his grip.
***
He dreamed of fog, of calling for someone he couldnt see. Then a voice*»Gavin!»*but Lydia only ever used his surname. He woke, heart pounding.
Dawn found him chain-smoking in the kitchen. One perk of bachelor lifeLydia wouldve banished him to the landing.
Simon raised an eyebrow at his early arrival. *»Youre not hungover?»*
*»Didnt drink. Mind if I pop out at lunch?»*
*»Thirsty already?»*
*»Want to see my girl. Before she forgets me.»*
Simon agreed, stern.
Gavin waited on a bench outside Emilys school, avoiding the gates. No sign of Davids car. Kids streamed outno Emily. Then, a flash of pink coat. He stood, wavingthen a black SUV blocked his view.
Something felt wrong. He sprinted around the car, saw the open door, a glimpse of pinka hooded man shoving it shut. Gavin jammed his hand in. The door crushed his fingers. Pain shot up his arm.
*»Dad!»* Emily shoved the door open, tumbling into him. The SUV sped off, clipping his thigh.
Voices buzzed around him:
*»Broad daylight…»*
*»Call the police…»*
*»Dad!»* Emily sobbed into his ear.
An ambulance took them to hospital. Lydia arrived, frantic.
*»Youre hurt?»*
*»No breaks. Just bruised.»*
*»Thank you. If you hadnt been there…»* Emily buried her face in his shoulder.
*»I told Mum everything,»* she whispered.
*»David was supposed to pick her up. If Id known…»* Lydias voice cracked.
*»Its fine. Shes safe.»* He hugged her, but she stiffened.
They drove him home. In the backseat, Emily asked, *»Does it hurt?»* staring at his bandaged hand.
*»Not much.»*
*»How will you work?»* Lydias eyes met his in the mirror. Hed have lost the hand to keep her looking at him like thatnot cold, the way she used to.
At his flat, he offered to collect Emily from school.
*»Well manage,»* Lydia said, driving off.
But that evening, she called. *»Does it still hurt? You cant cook. Ill bring soup tomorrow.»*
*»Dont. Im fine.»* Pity stung.
*»Actually… if youre free, meet Emily at noon.»*
*What about David?* He didnt ask.
Next morning, Simon took one look at his swollen fingers and sent him home.
At the school gates, Emily chattered: *»Mum and David had a huge row last night. Dad… are you coming home?»*
*»What about David?»*
*»She kicked him out. He wasnt at a meetinghe was with his mistress. I heard. Mums not home yet. Come on.»* She tugged him toward their old flat.
Nothing had changed much. A new kettle. *»The old one broke. Davids gone. I hated him.»*
Helping Emily with homework felt surreal. When the door clicked open, Lydia didnt seem surprised.
*»Dinner soon,»* she said, vanishing into the kitchen.
They ate together, like before. Like hed slipped back into his life from some parallel world.
*»Homework done?»* Lydia asked.
*»Dad helped.»*
*»I should go,»* Gavin said, rising.
Lydia stood too. They hovered, avoiding each others eyes.
*»Its late. Sleep on the sofa.»*
He lay stiff, afraid to move. Lydias breathing was too quietawake, like him.
Morning came. Lydia and Emily were leaving.
*»Why up so early? Youre not working,»* she said. *»Meet Emily at one.»*
He wandered the flat, ate the breakfast shed lefttea, buttered toast. Washed up, wincing.
Yesterday, Davids toothbrush had been in the bathroom. Today, only two remained: Emilys pink one, Lydias green. Had she thrown his out too, back when he left?
He wanted to stay. What if she told him to go? Should he leave first? Or wait? *If.* If she let him, hed crawl over glass, stay sober, find better work. He *was* good at what he did.
In his pocket, a fiver. He bought pale pink carnations from the corner shop.
Lydia noticed but said nothing. She didnt tell him to leave. That was enough.
He still slept on the sofa. But at dinner, she talked about worklike old times.
*»The secretary still jealous of you and the boss?»* he ventured.
*»No. She quit. The new girls nice.»*
Sitting together, eatingit was good. He realised he hadnt thought of drinking once since being back.
Maybe things could mend. He wouldnt drink. She hadnt thrown him out. Hed earn her trust again. Keep renting his mums flat…
Hope, fragile as dawn light, flickered.
