Chapter 11 Dominic
DOMINIC
“This is Dominic Graves,” I say into the phone. “I’m Mia Brookes’ father-in-law.”
“Good evening, Mr Graves,” the cheerful voice sounds down the line. “I’m Helen Campbell, the Nursing Unit Manager at Barnabus Home. Your daughter-in-law sounded rather upset.”
I take a deep breath so I don’t try and reach down the phone to slap this woman. “Mrs Campbell, could you explain to me how it is that my daughter-in-law was just informed by a member of the press that her father passed away?”
“Oh.” There’s a sound of papers being moved, and the clicking of a computer mouse. “Mr Graves, I do apologise, I only started my shift an hour ago, let me just see-”
“Take your time,” I growl. “Please.”
“Ummm… Yes, oh goodness, I see here that someone has noted down that they called your daughter this morning when it happened. I-I can’t explain-”
“I would suggest to you, Mrs Campbell, that you speak to this person who claims to have called Mia today and ask them how much the press paid them for this information.” The woman attempts to speak, but I go on before she can.
“And I suggest you do it before tomorrow morning when I intend to call the local NHS administrator to look into how your facility is run.”
“Mr Graves, I am so incredibly sorry,” Mrs Campbell says. “I cannot even begin to say how sorry I am. This has never happened before-”
“And it better never happen again.” I glance over at Mia, who is curled into the carseat with her hands clutched under her chin, shaking like a leaf. “What’s been done with Mr Brookes?”
“H-he’s been moved to the local funeral home and, um, they’ll be able to assist you with further arrangements. I really am very sorry, Mr Graves.”
“We’ll be in touch tomorrow, thank you.”
I hang up amidst more of her apologies, taking Mia’s bag and slipping the phone inside it.
“Your dad’s at a funeral home,” I say softly. “Do you know which one handles the home’s patients?”
Mia nods, her eyes unblinking.
“Alright, love. We’ll call them tomorrow.”
She nods again, a jerked movement, and her jaw is chattering, like she’s cold.
I scoot across the seat, closer to her, wanting nothing more than to put a comforting arm around her, but not knowing if that would be the right thing to do. Instead, I stay beside her, just close enough that she won’t feel alone in this new and unknown landscape.
There’s a million questions I want to ask her, about these parents, this father she claimed to have no knowledge of, but she’s still staring, unresponsive. She won’t answer any questions now, and it would be wrong to try.
We pass the ride back to her house in silence, and when we pull up at the curb, she practically jumps out of the car before the wheels have come to a complete stop. She runs over to the garden and begins to retch.
“Fuck.” Sliding along the seat, I pause to give the driver an earnest look in the mirror. “This doesn’t go to the press.”
He holds up his hands. “Never, Mr Graves. I am very sorry for your loss.”
I give him a nod, and fish some notes out of my wallet that I toss onto the seat before following Mia out into the night.
She straightens up as I approach, her shoulders heaving as she struggles for air. “I’m alright,” she assures me in a gasp. “I’m - I’m alright.”
“You’re not,” I mutter, and take her gently by the arm. “Let’s get you inside.”
With shaking hands, she punches in the gate code and pushes into her front garden. I follow closely, shutting the gate securely behind us. She fumbles with her keys, losing her grip, and they tumble to the ground with a clang. I quickly swoop them up as she stammers an apology.
“Come on, let me.” I unlock the door, and there’s a maniacal tapping as Tank comes barreling down the hallway towards us.
“Hi baby,” Mia says, her voice shaking as much as her hands. “Am I glad to see you.”
Tank nudges Mia’s leg, seeming to sense his mum’s distress, one ear flopping down as he gazes up at her. Mia scoops him up in her arms, and cuddles him to her chest. He eagerly licks her cheek as she carries him to the kitchen, still in her coat and high heels.
“Sit down, I’ll make you a cup of tea,” I say, kicking off my shoes and shrugging off my coat.
“You don’t have to do that,” Mia calls back, and when I reach the kitchen, she’s curled up with Tank on the huge black sofa. She regards me with bloodshot, shining eyes, and sniffles. “Really, you don’t.”
“Mia, I’m not leaving you right now.” I put the kettle on, retrieving two cups from the drawer beneath the counter, and prepare a tea for us both. Mia watches me silently, cuddling Tank, not crying, but anguish twisting her face all the same.
I take the prepared cups across the sitting room and place them on the table.
“You probably think I’m a monster,” Mia says, sniffling.
“I do not think that.” My eyes meet hers as I sit at the other end of the sofa, and I pull her feet into my lap.
“What are you doing?”
“I am taking off your shoes,” I murmur, and gently undo the strap of one, then the other, placing them on the floor.
Tank curls up at Mia’s side, nuzzling into her, his eyes moving from her to me and back again. I reach over to scratch his ears, and he snuffs loudly.
“He likes you,” Mia says with a smile.
“Of course he does. Dogs love me.” I keep her feet in my lap, which should feel wrong, but it doesn’t. Not at all.
Mia takes up her cup from the table, curling her hands around it, and takes a deep breath. “I didn’t dump him there. I promise.”
“I believe you.”
“He…” She trails off and eyes me uncertainly. “This is a long story.”
“I have time.”
She nods, her eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly. “My dad had something called Korsakoff Syndrome. It’s a kind of dementia, when your brain’s been starved of thiamine for a long time, you know, vitamin B?” She looks at me, and I nod. “It happens a lot with alcoholics.”
“Is that what caused it in your dad?”
Mia nods, biting her lip and casting her gaze across the room.
“My parents weren’t bad people. I need you to know that.
Because it sounds like they were, but they weren’t.
They were just… addicts.” She looks back at me, her brows drawn down.
“They tried, they really did. But… the addiction won out.”
“I’m not here to judge anyone.” I give her a reassuring smile. “You can talk to me.”
She takes another shaky breath, and a sip of her tea, looking down at the mug as she begins to talk.
“My dad, I told you he grew up with a violent father. My dad was a big bloke, really strong, and his dad realised that there was another man in the house now that could defend his wife. So he kicked my dad out right when he finished school.” She shifts in her seat, but keeps her feet in my lap.
“He got a job at a factory in Ardsley, down in south Leeds, doing security. That’s how he met my mum.
” A smile ghosts over her lips. “He loved telling me that story. About how one night he heard a noise and went to investigate, and suddenly this blonde head popped up out of a dumpster and asked him for a hand to get out.”
“A very romantic meeting?” I say with a chuckle.
Mia’s smile widens just a little, and she nods.
“He was smitten immediately. But my mum, she was tough, she didn’t have time for him.
She was a runaway, left home when she was 14, had been on the streets ever since.
She was from Hull, but had followed her shitty boyfriend up to Leeds.
Broke up with him, but kept the drug habit he’d introduced her to. ”
I rake my fingers through my beard. “Oh, dear.”
“Mmm. Meth. I don’t know how she fed that habit, but I don’t like thinking about that too much. She was just a kid.”
I feel nothing but sympathy for Mia’s mother. To leave home so young, to be out on the streets as a kid, a child… I think of Archie at that age, playing football with his mates and getting excited about post-match McDonalds, and my heart hurts.
“Anyway,” Mia goes on. “My dad started bringing food for my mum so she didn’t have to search the dumpsters, tried to charm her and ask her out.
She asked him how old he was, and when he said 19 she’d laughed and said he was too old for her.
She was 17 then I think, still a kid.” She takes another sip of her tea, and runs a hand over Tank’s head.
“Anyway, one night my dad gave her something she must have been allergic to, and my mum came over really ill. My dad panicked and abandoned his post, and drove her straight up to the LGI. He carried her in and was just yelling for someone to help her, and when they said he’d have to leave if he wasn’t family, he lied and said he was her fiancé.
” Mia shakes her head with a smile. “He didn’t even know her last name, but somehow they believed him and let him stay. ”
“That’s true love.”
“Yes, I suppose it was.” Mia laughs sadly.
“She woke up and they told her that her fiancé had brought her in, and my mum just played along and then told my dad, ‘Well I suppose we’d better just get married then’.
They moved in together and then they got married as soon as she turned 18.
” She traces her fingers along the edge of her cup, and frowns. “It could have all been so nice.”
I lift my hand to run it along her calf and decide at the last second that would probably be extremely creepy, and detour to picking up my tea instead.
“When did you come along?” I ask.
Mia sighs. “A year after they got married. They both tried really hard, I mean really hard to get sober when they found out.”
“Had your dad gotten into meth as well?”
“He hadn’t really, I think he tried it a few times, but he preferred the drink.” She gives me a wan smile. “He felt it wasn’t as harmful as the drugs.”
“Right.”