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And his mother had died.
Ethan could not forgive his father for that.
Not her death. More the circumstances.
Ethan had been five when she’d died, but he had been ten, maybe eleven, when he’d finally decided to find out for himself if the rumours about his father having an affair with their nanny were true.
Sure enough, the papers at the time had spoken of a huge argument, and Elizabeth Devereux leaving home sobbing and heading for JFK.
He’d looked at endless photos of the happy family they had once been and had confronted his father.
‘You had everything and you ruined it. Is that why Meghan left?’ he’d asked.
Jobe had sat silently nursing a drink as his youngest son had raged. Only as he’d stormed off had he called out.
‘Ethan! Get back here!’
‘Go to hell!’ He had run upstairs, taking down one of family pictures that hung on the wall and throwing it at him. ‘I hate you for what you did.’
It had never been spoken of again. The picture had been rehung, and to this day remained in its place on the wall, and still they avoided any topics of the personal kind.
But now, given his father was having surgery, Ethan tried.
‘So, what’s happening tomorrow?’
Ethan wanted specifics. But Jobe refused to give them.
‘It’s just a minor procedure.’ His father shrugged. ‘Exploratory.’
‘Can’t they just do a scan or something?’
‘Oh, so you went to med school now?’
‘I’m just saying I don’t understand what you’re going to theatre for.’
‘That’s what we’re finding out.’
They went in ever-widening circles, talking about everything and nothing and getting nowhere fast.
‘I’m going down at eight in the morning and I’ll be back up here by nine. I wanted to stay home the night before the op, but Prof Jacobs insisted I came in.’
‘Because had you been at home you would have ignored his instructions to have only a light supper and forgo your nightcap,’ Ethan said.
‘True,’ Jobe admitted. ‘Look, if you really want to do something for me then you can attend the Carmody function.’
If Ethan hadn’t known already that something was seriously wrong with his father, he knew it then. The Carmody function had been an annual feature on his father’s calendar for as long as Ethan could recall. Amongst the many pictures on the walls of his father’s home was one of his parents standing on the red carpet there.
The ball was more than two weeks away. For his father to be pulling out now sent a shiver of dread down Ethan’s spine. Not that he showed it. Instead, he agreed to attend in his father’s place.
‘You’ll need a date to take with you,’ Jobe huffed.
‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’ There was nothing left to say. ‘I’ll come and see you in the morning.’
‘No, don’t,’ Jobe warned. ‘The damn press is on to me. I’m sure of it.’
‘On to what?’ Ethan challenged.
For a moment near identical black eyes met, but Jobe wasn’t about to open up to anyone.
