Trying Not to Love You - Part Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Eight

                “Where’s Sonny?”

Carl Mansell looked up from his place beside the fire with a newspaper and a glass of whisky to see his daughter emerge from the hallway.

                “Not as concerned about your son?”

Martha rolled her eyes, “a - I’ve checked on my son already, it’s the first thing I do, and b - I trust you with Ethan, it’s what you’d do or say to Sonny that worries me.”

                “You think I’m that evil?” He’d put down his drink and was looking at her intently.

Shaking her head in exasperation, Martha sighed, “Dad, I would never think you’re evil, but I do think that you’re emotions might take over if you’re alone with him. I don’t want you doing something you’ll regret.”

                “Like what?”

                “Like making rash decisions, throwing Sonny out...that would devastate him. You are the only one in the world who has trusted in him, you saw yourself in him, is none of that important anymore?”

Her father groaned, “that was before he abused my hospitality.”

                “Really? Dad we’re going around in circles, were my grandparents glad when you hooked up with my mother? You fresh from prison, with not a lot to show for it.”

“They were furious!” A voice from behind caused them both to turn around, Lucy stood there at the doorway, “they didn’t really welcome you into the family for years, well after you got engaged to Grace.”

Carl shook his head, “this is NOT the same!”

Lucy smiled, laying a hand on his arm, “Carl this is EXACTLY the same. You want to protect Martha from getting hurt again, we can all see that. After that bloody Scott I don’t want her to date anyone else ever again either. But she’s human, and she needs company, and he cares about her. More than Scott ever did. He’s a good man, and that’s all that should matter. Now I am going to bed, stop bullying this girl. You hear me?”

Once Lucy left silence returned, and Martha, fed up with looking pleadingly at her increasingly stubborn father made for the kitchen.

Two hours later, after midnight there was still no sign of Sonny, he wasn’t answering his phone and she was becoming more worried by the hour. Had he left? Had something happened to him?

Sleep eluded her, but sharing a bed with her son, he brought a sense of serenity that she needed.

Sonny’s bed was unused the following morning, so Martha cooked breakfast for her and Ethan before anyone else was awake. She was furious with her father, and furious at Sonny for abandoning her. Where did he get off being so immature?

Ethan was dressed and ready to leave when Lucy appeared from upstairs.

                “Where are you going?”

Martha sighed, her car was in London so she had to walk which could take a long time with Ethan, “to see Scott’s father. Ethan needs to meet him, and I have to offer my condolences.” When Lucy scowled, Martha sighed, “I have to do this.”

Lucy nodded, “I know, I just don’t like the thought of you going to that house. If Michael knew...”

Martha stopped her, “he knew...he knows...about Scott, Ethan...he’s the only one.”

Lucy’s jaw dropped, “really?”

                “I needed money, he helped me.”

Looking away for a moment Lucy swallowed deeply, “don’t tell your father that, he’ll be devastated.”

For the first time Martha was aware of her own role in this discord, she sighed, “I did what I had to do, the only person who knew how Scott behaved was his father. He helped me.”

Lucy took her hand, “I love you Martha, but you have to realise that this is one HUGE mess, and no one is blameless. Ok?”

Martha nodded, then led Ethan out of the house.

Sonny could barely open his eyes, his head hadn’t hurt this much since he’d had a pasting from Scott’s cronies a few months back. And this had been at the hands of the same bloody man. If only he hadn’t taken his eyes off the prize he’d have been stood there, in control, in charge. Instead he had come around from what could at best be called a lucky punch, in a strange room, two men peering over him, waiting for him to open his eyes.

Michael Oldbury. He couldn’t drag his eyes away from him.

For Sonny the word’s in the letter he’d recently received from Marcus, signed by his mother were vivid in his mind days after reading them.

                “Mr Thomas, I’m asking for help to locate the father of my son, I can’t afford to keep him, and he’d be better off elsewhere. I’ve been told that you are an expert at finding people. His name was/is Michael Oldbury; he was a banker who lived in central London.” She’d then gone on to name places that they’d gone, places he’d lived, and the sordid details of their relationship. He was her boss; she’d worked as a receptionist in his company. But he’d left her, abandoned her to marry another woman, she’d been fired from her job working for him at the same time.

Since opening the letter, reading his mother’s words he felt sad for her for the first time ever. Before Oldbury she’d been doing well for herself, working, living...but he’d pulled the rug from under her feet in one day. His mother had only been good enough for an affair, and her world had ended on all fronts, pregnant, without a job, no family...no wonder she’d turned to Marcus and drugs...and prostitution.

It wasn’t a great read, and now as he looked at the man who’d stood next to her in the only photos that he had of his mother, and the only time he could ever recall a smile being on her face. This man had made her the happiest, and then the most desperate that she’d ever been.

And now he was standing over him, trying to wake him from the dark place he’d been.

Sonny pushed himself into sitting, ignoring the banging in his head, the way his vision blurred. “I need to go.”

The two men, Michael and someone he’d never seen before, took an arm each. “You’re not in any fit state to go anywhere. Do you think I should call an ambulance?”

Sonny started to shrug them off, “no, no way.”

The other man smiled, “it’s ok. Look just relaxed, I’ll get you a drink.”

Sonny relaxed and settled back into the seat.

Then when a large glass of water appeared he took it and drank it readily.

                “What’s the time?”

Michael laughed, “you were out for about ten minutes, and been groggy for about half an hour. Can’t believe Ian got such a good punch!”

Sonny looked at him bewildered, and the older man laughed, “Gripper? Ian Stokes, never usually gets a punch on target. You must have been distracted.”

Sonny shrugged, “could say that.”

                “Why were you here?”

Again he shrugged, “Gripper threatened me on the weekend...”

Michael sighed, “and you’re worried about Martha? The farm? I mean after all that my son did.”

Sonny stared at the older man, he was distinguished, slim, tall with greying hair, with dark eyes, eyes that looked like his, he stood with his arms folded, head cocked to one side, and he knew that Martha would say they had the same mannerisms. His father.

He shook his head, “he died.”

Michael nodded, “it seems he was killed. Ian thinks you did it?”

It was Sonny’s turn to shrug, “don’t know.”

                “Did you?”

Sonny laughed, “what do you think?”

Michael looked up to the other man, “can you get us some tea Derek? I don’t think Carter here is up to beer.”

                “There was no love lost between you and my son?”

Sonny knew that honesty was the only way, to a point, “he set me up, saw me sent to prison.”

That caused him to raise his eyebrow, “you wanted revenge?”

Laughing, Sonny staggered to his feet, hating that his brain was still rattling around in his head, “I did, I stood outside your house almost a year ago, fresh from prison wanting to best your son to a pulp.”

                “But?”

Looking out at the darkness he sighed, his breath fogging the cold glass of the window, “the Mansells, first Carl, he found me, made me realise that there was more to live than that, and then Martha.”

Michael nodded, “you like her.”

                “I love her.”

He took a moment to contemplate that, pausing as Derek returned with a tray of tea. Then came the lengthy process of pouring two mugs, and handing them out.

Once Derek had excused himself, Michael looked back at him, “she deserves better.”

                “Better than me?” Sonny asked incredulous.

The older man laughed, “better than she’s had.”

He could take that anyway he wanted, and he contemplated that as he sipped at his tea, it was hot but he needed the distraction.

                “Why are you here? Why have you come here?”

Sonny stared at him, wanting to say ‘because you’re my father, because I wanted to hear you tell me why you abandoned my mother like some cheap whore’ instead he sighed. “I was running past; I wanted you to know it wasn’t me.”

                “That’s the job of the police, not me, and not you.”

Sonny nodded, “I suppose.”

Michael crossed the room, “it’s late, you’ve got a mashed head, sleep in one of my spare rooms, I’ll drive you home tomorrow.”

As he argued he was struggling to focus, his head was throbbing and he did wonder how he’d make it back home.

                “Take a bed, I feel responsible for that idiot hitting you. Derek’ll drive you home in the morning, I promise.”

And he’d both stayed, and slept...like a log.

That was how he came to wake up there the next morning. Suddenly he’d lost his confidence, he wasn’t ready to confront ‘his father’, so he got dressed, found a route out of the back of the house and made for the path into the forest that would lead him back to town.