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‘Not a lot yet. They’re running tests.’
‘How is he now?’
‘One hundred and ten per cent alive.’ Entering the ward, Elyse turned left into the first room.
Five of the beds contained older men who were dozing. The sixth contained Kevin Hunter-Savage.
‘Babe! What the fuck did you tell Jamesy-boy for?’
Kevin was sitting up in bed, his white-haired chest covered in sticky patches with wires coming off them, connected to a machine.
‘I told you. Don’t tell ’im. He’s meant to be in London.’
James went to the side of the bed. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Fine,’ his dad replied testily. ‘Sit down. You’re giving me a neck crick.’
Pulling out a chair, James sat. ‘Where’s Mum?’
‘Getting a cup of tea. Look, son, there’s nothing wrong with me.’ He glanced over James’s shoulder to eyeball Elyse. ‘You didn’t tell Sophia as well, did you, babe?’
‘She’s on her way now.’
Kevin thumped his head back against the pillows. ‘Fuck!’
‘I’ll leave you with him for a bit,’ Elyse said to James. She held up her phone. ‘I’m going to check my messages. I’ll be in the corridor outside.’
‘You shouldn’t be here,’ Kevin said to him as she rounded the corner.
‘Why not?’
His dad indicated the pads covering his chest. ‘This is all a fuss about nothing. You should be in London with that Global Tech bloke.’
‘I came back early.’
‘Why?’
‘The festival.’
‘You’ve done your bit. Now you need to get back to what you’re meant to be doing.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Being the big man. In London.’
Silence hung between them. James didn’t need to point out that living in Somerset, running the festival, then spending months in China, had all been thanks to the man in the bed beside him.
His dad sighed and rubbed his hands over his face as if trying to erase the memories, then gave James his full attention.
‘I’m proud of you, son,’ he said, his voice scratchy and low. ‘You know that. Right?’
James nodded.
‘Me and your mum came from nothing. And it didn’t matter how much moolah I made, it weren’t ever gonna make us talk all la-di-da and fit in proper. But you and Soph? We bought you a step up the ladder. And then, Jamesey-boy, you legged it right to the top.’
Kevin rested his head on the pillow, staring up at the ceiling. ‘What you had in London, what you’ll get back with Global Tech, it’s what I always wanted for you.’
James knew his dad was proud of his achievements, but he’d never considered the possibility that the career decisions he’d made were more about his father’s expectations than what he actually wanted. But how could he unpick who he really was? Was he the football-obsessed Kevin Skinner, or the rugby-playing, rowing champion, James Hunter-Savage?
