Chapter 6
After a much-needed shower, Alex sank gratefully onto the comfortable bed. The bedroom had been renovated by Lily and Ben about six months ago and was now a cosy but extremely stylish place to stay.
There were five bedrooms in the private family quarters at the end of the top-floor west wing.
Away from the twenty guest bedrooms, there was space for Faye, Frankie, Hannah, Ben and, until a few months ago, Lily as well to have their own rooms. Since Lily had moved into Ben’s room, the spare bedroom was left to be used by their friends whenever they stayed.
Alex and Jake were happy to share the room, despite its somewhat romantic theming, thanks to Lily’s artistic skills. The room mirrored the guest bedrooms and so had a handcrafted four-poster bed made out of oak from the surrounding forest and thick expensive bed linen making it feel luxurious.
There was even some lavender spray on the bedside stand, filling the air with its romantic, relaxing scent. Not that Alex was feeling particularly relaxed. His foot was extremely painful and he had to keep the weight off for at least a few days, trying to rest as much as he could.
He was grateful to the Jackson family for offering the room to him for as long as he wanted, even after Jake left to head back to London the following day.
By way of thanks for their many stays throughout the year which included free accommodation, Alex and Jake would try to repay the family wherever they could.
Jake’s skills as a chef were often utilised in the kitchen, mucking in to help cook the breakfasts, as well as finding them Jason, the part-time chef.
For his part, Alex had tried to help Ben with the accounts, even sorting out a large tax rebate on his dad’s estate.
From time to time, he had also given Walter a hand in the workshop whenever there was any heavy lifting to be done.
Not that he would be much use for the foreseeable future, he thought to himself.
But he couldn’t relax or even begin to think about his recovery until he had made the phone call that he had been putting off ever since his accident that morning.
He took a deep breath and then brought out his phone to video chat his parents.
After three rings, his dad answered.
‘I’ve been trying to get hold of you all day,’ his dad said, by way of greeting and looking cross. ‘The flight to Sydney on Tuesday has been changed. It’s three hours earlier so you’d better come here tomorrow night so we can get to the airport on time.’
Alex took a deep breath. ‘Happy Easter to you too, Dad.’ He paused before carrying on. ‘How’s Mum?’
‘I’m fine, love,’ said his mum somewhere in the background. ‘Happy Easter.’
Alex braced himself before continuing. ‘But I’m afraid I won’t be able to make the flight on Tuesday, Dad.’
‘What are you talking about?’ his dad began. ‘This has been booked for weeks. Is this about staying with your friends? You know how important the training schedule is. We’ve got everything mapped out for the next sixteen weeks.’
‘Well, the schedule is going to have to change.’ Alex found himself gulping. ‘I hurt myself this morning at the race.’
There was a short silence before his dad exploded. ‘I knew it! I knew something would happen when you’re dealing with amateurs. What were you thinking? I told you not to take part in that ridiculous fun run! You should have been training, not messing about with your mates in the mud.’
Alex held up his hand. ‘Could you just listen to me for once?’ he snapped, the pain in his foot making him more irritable than normal.
His dad’s eyebrows went up in surprise but he didn’t say anything.
Instead, it was his mum who spoke next. ‘How did you hurt yourself?’ she asked, her gentle tones as always trying to smooth things over between father and son.
‘I tripped over near the finish line,’ replied Alex. ‘And this is the result.’
He spun the phone down to show his swollen ankle, the black and blue bruising beginning to show.
There was a deep intake of breath at the other end of the line.
‘Twisted ankle?’ asked his dad, sounding optimistic.
Alex almost laughed. ‘I’m afraid it’s a bit more serious than that,’ he said. ‘I’ve broken two bones in my foot.’
There was a shocked silence that followed.
‘Broken?’ whispered his mum, sounding tearful. ‘Oh, no.’
Alex nodded. ‘I’m afraid so. It’s going to take at least six weeks to heal, according to the doctors at the hospital.’
Everything else was going to take a lot longer, he thought, looking at his dad on the screen.
His mum sighed softly and shook her head before she too looked at her husband.
They both knew that his father’s quick temper was going to explode over them eventually. Better to get it over with.
His father finally lifted his head to stare at his son. They stared at each other in silence for a moment.
‘Broken?’ repeated his father at last.
Alex nodded.
There was a slight pause before his father spoke again. ‘Well, that’s something positive at least. Better than ligament damage, I reckon. Hopefully it won’t take too long to repair and then we can get going again.’
Alex gave a start. ‘Get going? On what?’ he asked.
‘On your training, of course.’
Alex’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘Dad, it’s too late for the Commonwealth Games. We both know that. There won’t be enough time to get fully fit in time.’
But to his amazement, his dad merely shrugged his shoulders.
‘Listen, we can’t deny that it’s a massive setback but bones heal fast. So we’ll have to be careful with the training but if we get the right intensity and build on what you’ve already got, I reckon this could be an amazing story for next summer.
After all, it’s the Olympic Games next year. Just imagine winning that gold…’
Alex couldn’t believe it. After everything, his dad was still carrying on with the dream of a gold medal.
He finally found his voice. ‘No, Dad. Just no.’
His dad looked at him in confusion. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘It’s over,’ Alex told him.
‘People have come back from worse,’ said his dad, frowning. ‘Just think how good winning will feel after this!’
‘I’m not carrying on,’ said Alex.
His dad looked shocked. ‘Of course you are.’
It was a statement, not a question. Alex couldn’t believe it. His dad truly believed that he would carry on and on.
‘When do you expect me to stop?’ asked Alex. ‘When do you think that this will be over?’
His dad looked bemused. ‘When you’ve won, of course.’
Alex laughed but it was without humour. ‘And what if I don’t win?’ he asked.
‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ his dad snapped.
‘I’m not,’ replied Alex. ‘I’m being realistic. I’m thirty-four, Dad. I’m not in my twenties any more. There are younger and better competitors than me coming through the sport every year.’
‘Rubbish,’ said his dad before huffing out a sigh.
‘Listen, if you hadn’t got distracted by your friends then you wouldn’t have hurt yourself.
But you just need to focus your mind more.
Perhaps we can schedule some time to concentrate on your mental state as well as the physical side. That’s where we went wrong.’
Alex stared at his dad for a while, briefly tempted by the lure of any Olympic medal. But in the end, his main thought was that he simply didn’t want to train any more. He was always so very tired all the time. He wanted to rest. He had had enough.
And he knew that if he didn’t put a stop to this now, it was never going to end.
‘I’m finished, Dad,’ he said slowly. ‘I’m not competing ever again.’
‘Yes, you are,’ said his dad, with a firm nod. ‘Of course you are.’
But Alex shook his head. ‘No. I’m done.’ He knew that it was finally the moment to put into words what he had felt for so very long.
‘I want a normal life, Dad, without training schedules and competitions. I want a proper holiday, not a training camp. I want to have a home that I can live in all year round. I want a job that I can take my time with, not sporadic periods of work before jetting off again.’ Alex found that now he had started, he couldn’t stop himself from telling them everything.
‘I want to run and swim for myself, for enjoyment, not to chase another record or medal. I want to be spontaneous with my life. I want a relationship, love and all the joy that could bring me.’ He came to an abrupt stop and sighed. ‘I’m tired, don’t you get that?’
‘It’s just the pain talking,’ snapped his dad. ‘You were born a winner, son. You know that.’
‘No, I don’t know that,’ said Alex, running a hand through his hair. ‘All this time, I was hoping you could be proud of me trying my best, not the winning part.’
‘The winning is the only important bit,’ replied his dad. ‘Take it from me. The failure will eat you up inside if you let it.’
‘I’m not you, Dad!’ Alex took a deep breath. ‘In fact, funnily enough, I am like you because I’ve failed too. You failed and so have I. Neither of us ever achieved our dream. There! We’re the same. Are you happy now?’
His dad stared at him for a moment before the call abruptly cut off. His dad had hung up.
Alex lay back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh. All those times and years he had dreamt of saying the truth to his dad. He thought he would be relieved. But right at that moment, he just felt numb.
Perhaps, once the shock had faded for all of them then they would be proud of all they had achieved together. But right now he felt more exhausted than he had ever done before.