Page 121 of The Making of Jonty Bloom
“And you think you were some perfect son?”
“I tried,” Jonty snapped. “I tried to make you happy. You did your best to make me unhappy. You punished me for nothing.”
“I thought it would harden you up. Everything I did for you was for your own good.”
Jonty gaped at him. “Like shutting me in that old coal shed? You knew how scared I was of dark places. How petrified I was of spiders and bugs, let alone the dark. I was ten years old and you locked me in there on a Friday night and didn’t let me out until Sunday morning. I screamed until I had no voice. I was convinced I was going to die. I thought you’d left me in there forever.”
“You weren’t frightened of the dark when I let you out.”
“I didn’t speak for a week after you opened the door.”
“Seven blissful days.” His father smiled. “You never did shut your fucking mouth.What’s this? How does that work? Why does that happen?On and on.”
Jonty seethed. He wasn’t going to let his father win what would be their last battle.
“Well, my boyfriend rather likes my mouth.”
“Yes, I do.” Devan walked into the room and slung his arm around Jonty’s shoulder.
The appearance of Devan silenced his father in a way Jonty had never managed, and comforted him in a way he’d not anticipated.
“Rosie Henley. Oaklands, Burton Road, Newcastle. She didn’t go far, but I kept my word. I never followed her, never pushed her to come back. Now fuck off.” His father rolled onto his side.
“You are such a piece of shit.” Devan’s eyes glittered. “It seems miraculous to me that a decent, kind and sensitive guy like Jonty could have a father like you.”
His father turned to face Devan. “I put clothes on his back, food in his stomach, a roof over his head.”
“But you never loved him. He was your kid and you never loved him.”
“He’s pathetic. A weak, cock-sucking excuse for a man. A shit-eating, shirt-lifting faggot.” His eyes glittered and Jonty knew his father was enjoying this.
Jonty pulled at Devan’s sleeve. He wanted to leave. Now.
“You’re on your death bed,” Devan said. “You’re pretending what you did was right, but you know it wasn’t. He was a kid. You were his father. You drank because you were unhappy with your shitty life. What happened? Did you marry too early? Have kids too soon? Not get that promotion at work you thought you deserved? Drink because your dreams didn’t come true? Then took out your frustration on your wife first, then your son? What a specimen of manhood you are.”
“What the fuck do you know?”
“Try and say something nice to him. There must be a memory that could make you both smile. This is your last chance. Don’t waste it.”
Devan wasn’t talking to Jonty, but it was his last chance too.
“You used to do me fried mushrooms on a Sunday morning before Mum got up,” Jonty whispered. “Just for me. You showed me how to use a drill. We watched TV together. Life wasn’t all bad. I was so proud that you were a policeman. I wanted to make you proud of me, but you just got so angry sometimes, and I could never do or say the right thing to make you happy.”
“You were a pain in the neck. You still are. Fuck off.”
Jonty bristled. “Well, at least Icanfuck off. I’m not lying in bed being a miserable sod. I almost wish I believed in hell because that’s where you deserve to be. Bye,Dad.”
Jonty tugged Devan out past Tamsin, then he stopped and went back to her. “Thank you for taking care of him.”
“He’s not been bad to me,” she whispered. “We were good together until he got sick. I think he feels guilty he wasn’t a better dad.”
You are fucking delusional.
“Did you know about Pete?” she asked.
Jonty shook his head. Tamsin tugged him outside and closed the door. She shivered in the bitter wind and wrapped her arms around herself.
“Pete was his first partner in the police. Sure he never mentioned him?”
