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Max sprinted the few yards to the other side of the car with Gabbie only seconds behind him.
‘Jeff!’
‘Dad! Are you okay? Dad?’
Gabbie rushed to her father’s side to help him up from the tangle of spanners and old rusty paint tins in which he was sprawled, his face as grey as an overused dishcloth. Max took his other arm and together they guided him to a chair at the kitchen table. With her heart pounding out a medley of anxiety, Gabbie asked if he’d hurt himself and made sure he was comfortable, while Max set the kettle to boil.
‘I’m fine, really, I’m fine, darling. No need to fuss.’
‘But what happened?’
‘Seems I inadvertently stumbled over a leaning tower of paint pots!’
Jeff patted Gabbie’s hand reassuringly, then smiled his thanks to Max for the proffered coffee, adding a spoonful of sugar to his mug and taking a sip before letting out a long sigh of relief.
‘Ahh, that’s better. No one should even attempt to start the day without a cup of coffee – and maybe some of those delicious scrambled eggs on toast of yours. Sorry for alarming you, Gabbie, but as you can see, I’m right as rain now.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
Gabbie scrutinised the face she loved more than any other in the world. While her father’s colouring had returned to normal, there was a wary look in his eyes that put her on her guard. Was he telling her the truth, or what he thought she wanted, or needed, to hear?
‘Okay,’ announced Max, draining the contents of his mug and dropping it into the kitchen sink. ‘I’d better get back to work. Harriet Bradshaw’s new exhaust won’t fit itself. If you need anything, just holler.’
‘Thanks, Max, and sorry for the commotion.’
‘No problem, boss.’
It was only when the door to the garage swung shut behind Max, and Gabbie replenished her father’s coffee mug, that she noticed with alarm the slight tremor in his fingers on the handle, and her gaze fell on the brown envelope in the middle of the table.
‘What’s that?’
‘Oh, just some information from one of our suppliers.’
Her father’s attempt at nonchalance raised Gabbie’s suspicions and she knew immediately that this correspondence was the cause of her father’s wobble. She reached out to pull the letter towards her, removed the paperwork and scanned the contents. Her stomach performed a swift somersault of concern when she realised the implications, and she looked up to meet her father’s silver-grey eyes.
‘Dad, this is a final demand – for twenty thousand pounds! Don’t we usually pay our invoices on time?’
‘It’s just a temporary cash-flow problem. I spoke to the bank about it yesterday afternoon – everything is in hand and there’s nothing for you to worry about.’
‘Sure?’
‘Sure.’
‘Okay, but I’m still worried about you. I think you should make an appointment at the doctor’s, just to get checked out.’
‘I was there last week for a routine check-up…’
‘And?’ urged Gabbie when her father paused to take another sip of his sugary coffee.
‘Well, the practice nurse might have mentioned losing a few pounds, but that’s nothing I didn’t know already. They want to keep an eye on my cholesterol levels and blood pressure and I have an appointment with the dietician. It’s all pretty routine. I want you to stop worrying about me, please. If you worry, I worry, and that’s not good for either of us.’
Gabbie made a valiant attempt to staunch the unease swirling around her chest and plaster on a smile. What she really wanted to do was abandon her stiff upper lip and howl at the director of fates for even contemplating interfering with her father’s health. Fortunately, she was saved from that embarrassment by a familiar and very welcome face appearing at the back door.
‘Ah, Mike, come in, come in. Want a coffee?’
Gabbie almost laughed out loud when she saw the look of relief on her father’s face at the timely arrival of his best friend. If she hadn’t known better, she wouldn’t have put it past him to have arranged Mike’s visit at that precise moment to prevent any further cross-examination on the state of his health and the business’s precarious finances.
‘Thanks, Jeff, I’d love one. Hello, Gabbie, it’s good to see you back home in Oakley. What’s it been? Two, three months?’
‘Almost three, but Dad and I did have a fabulous couple of long weekends in London in June, didn’t we, Dad?’
‘We sure did, darling!’
Gabbie pushed herself up from the table to make a cafetière of coffee. As she waited for the kettle to boil, she considered Mike’s words and although she knew he hadn’t meant his enquiry as an accusation of neglect, a loop of what ifs curled through her mind on an eternal tickertape of anxiety.
She wasn’t daft, she knew her father was glossing over the incident in the garage. What would have happened if she hadn’t been at home? What if she hadn’t quit her job at House of Gasnier after Jules Gasnier had selected her perfume for the summer fragrance and she had been on her way to Paris to showcase her expertise to the guys at head office? Would her father still be sitting at his kitchen table discussing the benefits of recurve bows as opposed to compound bows or long bows with his best friend of fifty years?
‘Darling, I can see you’re going to be bored with our archery gossip. Why don’t you go get some fresh air, take a walk down to the post office and say hello to Martha? I’m in safe hands here.’
Gabbie intended to refuse so she could personally watch over her father but didn’t want to come over like an overzealous mother hen because she knew that would embarrass him. She leaned forward to kiss his cheek, struggling to disguise her distress at witnessing his vulnerability when he had prided himself on being a tower of strength through the darkest of times.
‘Well, I’ll just go and tidy up the garage first.’
She saw her father roll his eyes at her, then smile. ‘Love you, darling.’
‘You too, Dad.’
Gabbie left the men to their chatter and returned to the garage forecourt where she took a moment to collect her thoughts. Outside the open doors, the birds were well into the second verse of their daily symphony, and the sun was determined to send shards of sunshine through the cracks in the clouds. The village was as picturesque as always, like something from a holiday postcard extolling the virtues of spending time in the English countryside. She inhaled a long, slow breath and knelt down to collect together the tumble of paint pots and scattered tools.
‘Here, let me help you.’
‘Thanks, Max.’
‘No thanks needed.’
It only took a few minutes to separate the mechanical detritus into things to store in the lockable metal cupboard and things to relegate to the dustbin. Gabbie’s spirits edged up a notch when she deposited the final empty oil can in the recycle box.
‘You know, Jeff will be okay – though I’m not so sure about his super-organised daughter.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m fine.’
‘Look, you’ve had a shock. Why don’t I take you for a drive to clear your head?’
‘Oh, no, I shouldn’t leave Dad…’
‘Mike’s with him, isn’t he? I heard the two of them laughing just now.’
‘Well, yes, but…’
‘Come on, a bit of fresh air will work wonders.’
‘That’s exactly what my dad just said!’ she giggled.
‘Sensible guy!’
‘Okay, just give me a minute to make sure he’s okay and Mike’s not in a rush to leave.’
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