Page 16 of Dead Serious Case 4 Professor Prometheus Plume

“Thank you both.” Charlie reaches for the Roses and pulls the lid off. “I’m starving, I missed breakfast.”

“Tristan, Danny, there you are.” Lois’s voice has me turning in her direction.

“Hi, Lois.” I cross the reception towards her. “How’s Dad doing?”

“Here, let me take those for you.” Danny reaches around me and takes the stack of presents.

“He’s a bit under the weather, love, but he’s okay.” She indicates that we should follow her through the doorway and we all head down the hall toward Dad’s room. “I’ve got him up out of bed, and he’s used the loo. I helped him brush his teeth and freshen up a little, but I have a feeling he’ll end up back in bed for a nap soon enough. I’ve left him in his pyjamas so he’s a little more comfortable, and he’s settled on his sofa. The day room might be a little much today with all the noise and other visitors at the moment.”

“Thanks, Lois.” I reach for her elbow and gently draw her to a stop outside Dad’s room before she can reach for the door handle. Danny hands me a gift bag from the stack of presents and I give it to her. “This is for you. I just want to thank you for taking care of Dad so well. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Oh, sweet boy.” She clutches the gift bag and wraps her arms around me in a firm hug. “You’re so welcome. I’m very fond of Martin.”

I nod, swallowing past the knot in my throat as I reach for the door handle and let myself in, Danny and Lois following in my wake.

Dad is in his pyjamas and his favourite tatty old dressing gown, sitting on his sofa. He has a blanket draped across his legs with his feet, clad in his tartan slippers, poking out the bottom.

“Hi, Dad,” I say with a brightness I don’t feel, but he barely registers our presence as we walk in.

Crossing the room, I strip off my mittens, coat, and hat, and lay them over the back of the sofa, then lower myself to the seat next to him. I reach out and take his hand in mine. He looks so diminished, so frail. It’s like watching him disappear in front of my eyes and it’s painful. I stroke my thumb gently over the back of his hand, but there’s no strength in his grip as he holds onto mine. His dry skin is paper-thin and slightly too warm, like he’s edging toward a low-grade fever.

“Hey, Dad,” I repeat, this time softer. “Merry Christmas.”

He still doesn’t look at me but after a few minutes, he starts crying and leans into my side. I put my arms around him and pull him in close.

“Oh, Martin,” Lois says in sympathy. “You’re just not feeling yourself today, are you?” She glances at me. “I’ll fix some tea for you all. Then you can try and see if you can get him to drink something.”

I nod as she lets herself out of the room. Danny sets the presents down on the end of the neatly made bed and removes his coat and scarf before reaching into his pocket for his phone.

“I’ll give Chan a quick call and let him know we may be awhile,” he says. “Just to make sure he’s happy to organise everything.”

“Are you kidding? His organisational skills are on a near mythic level most of us couldn’t even hope to achieve.” I manage a small smile. “Put it this way, if I ever decide to invade a small country, I’m putting him in charge of my campaign.”

Danny gives a small chuckle. “I really think he missed his calling in life as some sort of super PA.”

I huff quietly and turn back to Dad, who is still crying.

“Be back in a minute.”

My attention is fixed on Dad as I hold him. Rocking him gently, I lay a kiss on his head. His hair, which was once as wild and thick as mine, is now silver-grey and thin, sitting against his scalp in limp curls, but the feel is soft and the smell familiar as I rest my cheek against him.

“It’s okay, Dad,” I murmur. “I’m here.”

* * *

I feelexhausted right down to my bones as Danny grips my hand and leads me back across the darkening carpark toward his car. It was just as well Chan and Aidan had turned up this morning to take over Christmas. If it had been left up to me and Danny, we would have ended up with cheese toasties and a cup-a-soup.

We ended up spending most of the day with Dad. Ordinarily, we’d have stayed a few hours and then left him to socialise with the carers and other residents as Sunrise has its own Christmas traditions, but Dad’s definitely coming down with something.

I’d sat cuddling him on the sofa until my arms went numb. He’s almost completely nonverbal now, and he continued to burst into tears intermittently throughout the day because he doesn’t know how to deal with feeling unwell. I felt so helpless, knowing there wasn’t anything I could do to soothe him.

He wouldn’t eat the home’s Christmas lunch, so Lois had the kitchen make him a protein shake, which she delivered with a brightly coloured straw, one that was kind of bendy and swirly and fun to look at. We managed to coax him to at least drink some of it, but he mostly just leaned into me, quiet and frail. He opened a couple of his presents, but he didn’t pay them any attention. Not that I expected him to—I think we continue with bringing presents more for the tradition than anything else. On good days, he likes the shiny paper and bows.

There’s a heaviness pressing down on me and it’s getting worse with every step away from Dad and towards Danny’s car. He’s quiet, knowing that I’m not really capable of chatter right now. But as we stop and he opens my door for me, he turns to catch my eye.

It’s a mistake. The moment I see the quiet understanding in his deep blue eyes, I crumble and a choked sob tears from my throat. Danny doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to, he simply pulls me into his arms and holds me tightly to stop the seams of me from coming loose.

I cry hard, great, wracking sobs, my face pressed into his coat, and he gives a little sway, rocking me the way I had my dad. It’s that little action that has me pulling back and looking up at Danny.