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‘Any major fires to put out?’ His dad rested his arms on the table. ‘Or just rescuing more cats stuck up trees?’ He chuckled, as though he hadn’t made the same joke a hundred times before.
Matt forced a smile.
His dad had an annoyingly antiquated view of his son’s job, treating him like he was flipping Fireman Sam or something – someone who spent his days helping old ladies cross the road and putting out chip-pan fires.
Easy as it would be to react, he didn’t. It wasn’t like he needed his dad’s approval – he’d moved past wanting that a long time ago. ‘A few nasty road traffic accidents,’ he said, lacking the energy to correct his dad’s misguided views.
He’d tried numerous times to explain his role as Lead Officer for the Surrey Fire and Rescue Service, but the information never seemed to stick, so he’d stopped trying.
‘We had the fire brigade here last week,’ his dad said. ‘One of the inmates tried to climb the fence. Got himself stuck and had to be lifted off by one of your lot.’
It hadn’t been called the fire brigade for years. But Matt supposed his dad wouldn’t be aware of that, as he hadn’t exactly been out-and-about of late. ‘Did he get down safely?’
‘I think so. We were all herded inside, not allowed to watch and enjoy the show. Shame. It’s not like there’s much else to do in here.’
It was sad that someone stuck up a fence was considered entertainment. Matt searched for another topic. ‘Are you still volunteering at the library?’
‘Yep. Not exactly exciting stuff, but it kills a few hours each day.’ His dad scratched his beard, his nails dirty and uncut. ‘How’s your mum?’
‘Mum’s fine.’ As fine as a woman with a husband banged up could be.
Susan Hardy worked three jobs, rarely socialised and still had to endure endless ‘curtain twitching’ whenever someone new moved into the street. It didn’t take much for the neighbourhood gossip to start up. It wasn’t fun for her.
‘She’s booked a visit for next week,’ he told his dad, whose face lit up on hearing the news.
‘Great. I was wondering when she’d be in. I miss her. I wish she’d visit more.’
And there was the problem.
His mum didn’t want to visit – neither did his sister – which is why Matt made the effort to come each month, compensating for their lack of enthusiasm. Not that he could blame them. There was nothing enjoyable about a prison visit.
His mum had been widowed from her first husband in her early thirties, leaving her with a young son – Matt’s half-brother, Chris. When she had met Pete Hardy – a man ten years her junior – he’d swept her off her feet, promised to look after her and enticed her into a whirlwind marriage. She hadn’t stood a chance.
In the twenty years that followed, they had two kids together and set up home in one of the ex-army properties in Aldershot. They never had much money growing up, but that wasn’t an issue. His dad’s temper and excessive drinking were. Turned out, his dad was a bit of tearaway. Fighting, stealing, numerous misdemeanours – all things he’d kept hidden from his mum. He’d then joined the army and later worked as a bouncer at a nightclub. His last job, as a taxi driver, abruptly ended when he got into a brawl with another driver and bashed the guy’s head against the pavement.
Even before that, the marriage had been riddled with arguments and broken promises. The final straw had been his dad’s incarceration. And although his mum had vowed to ‘stand by her man’, was it any wonder that she didn’t want to visit him that often?
‘Leah’s still refusing to visit me then?’ his dad asked, looking disgruntled. ‘You can’t change her mind?’
‘Leah’s twenty-nine, Dad. She’s an adult. She makes her own choices. I can’t make her come if she doesn’t want to.’
His dad sat back and folded his arms. ‘I don’t understand why she doesn’t want to see me. Other blokes in here have done worse than me, and their kids still visit. I don’t see what the issue is.’
And he never would, that was the problem.
His dad failed to understand how hard it had been on them, and the sacrifices they’d had to make. The bullying Leah had suffered from the local kids, being called ‘the killer’s daughter’ and having stones thrown at her every time she left the house.
Matt had been older, he’d already left home and avoided such cruelty. But Leah had taken the brunt, and she held her dad entirely responsible.
Maybe if his dad had shown some remorse then it would have made a difference. Yet he never had, and it was too late now – the damage was done.
‘Anyway, I’m here,’ Matt said, changing tack. ‘It’s good to see you looking so well,’ which was a lie, but nobody wanted to hear they looked like hell. ‘Are you doing okay?’
‘Top notch.’ His dad glanced around the room, and then leant forwards. ‘I’ve applied for early release.’
This was a surprise, given his dad only had a year left on his sentence. ‘Is that something you’re eligible for?’
He shrugged. ‘I’m due for parole later this year anyway, and we all know how crowded prisons are. They need the space. I’ve behaved myself, toed the line, done my time. They offer early release for extenuating circumstances, so I figured I’d apply. I’ve got grounds.’
