The Couple at No. 9(60)

The restaurant is small, only ten or so tables, arranged in a linear fashion, two abreast. Isla takes him along the aisle, between the tables, most of which are still occupied by groups of people halfway through their food. On the one in the corner, by the floor-length windows that look out onto the high street, an older man in a familiar Ralph Lauren shirt and chinos is sitting alone.

Theo freezes. It’s his dad.

‘Here he is,’ says Isla, with a ta-da gesture. She claps Theo on the back. ‘We’re very proud of our chef.’ She twinkles and then, thankfully, she moves away without realizing that the customer is Theo’s father.

‘What … what are you doing here?’ Theo asks. His father’s plate is empty. Table eight – the order was shellfish. He’s surprised. His dad is very much a traditional roast-dinner kind of man. It must have been up to his high standards if he’s polished it off.

‘Can’t a father come to the restaurant where his son is the chef?’ He sits back in his chair and folds his arms across his broad chest. ‘Good work, son. I enjoyed it.’

Theo blinks, unsure if he’s heard correctly. ‘It’s just I’ve worked here for two years and this is the first time –’

‘I wanted to see it for myself,’ he says, looking around. ‘Very nice.’ He has a rictus grin on his face. Theo knows it’s not fancy enough for his father so why is he even pretending? Why has he really come?

Theo shifts from one foot to the other. ‘I’m, well, I’m glad you like it, but I need to get back to the kitchen now.’

His dad nods. The harsh restaurant lighting makes him look sallower than normal. Just as Theo is about to walk back to the kitchen he says, ‘I did love your mother, you know.’

Theo stops, his heart thudding.

‘I know you think I didn’t.’

‘I’ve never said that,’ Theo says, flummoxed.

‘I wasn’t always the best husband.’ His shoulders are set back, rigid. ‘I know my faults. But I would never have hurt her.’

Theo remembers the bruises his mother tried to hide and knows his dad is talking utter bollocks about hurting her. He wonders if he really believes what he’s saying. Has he rewritten history in his own mind as a way to live with the terrible things he’s done? Or maybe he did love her, in his own warped way.

‘Her death was an accident.’

Theo goes cold. His dad knows. He knows he’s been in his study. He’s found the unlocked cupboard. Why else would he be here now talking about his mum?

‘And Cynthia Parsons?’ It’s out before Theo has even registered what he’s saying. He flinches. He shouldn’t have brought that up here. He’s at work. This is too big a conversation to be having on a five-minute break.

The colour drains from his father’s face. ‘What do you know about Cynthia Parsons?’

‘I know she made a complaint against you,’ says Theo, his voice low so as not to alert the other customers. It must be an odd sight, him in his white chef’s coat talking so intently to an old man. The other customers will think his father is making a complaint. It could look bad.

‘That was a long time ago.’

‘Sexual assault,’ Theo spits, unable to keep the disgust out of his voice.

‘You know nothing about it,’ his dad growls. ‘And I’d appreciate it if you come to me in future, rather than sneaking around behind my back.’

‘Sure,’ says Theo, shrugging, trying to look unruffled, when his heart is racing and his palms sweating at the thought of having it out with his father after all this time. ‘Because you’re so forthcoming with information. I’ve tried asking you before but you’re never straight with me.’

‘It saddens me that you feel you have to snoop.’

Theo folds his arms across his chest. Should he deny it? There’s no point.

‘I know you’ve been in my study,’ says his dad, in the same deathly calm voice. ‘You left the cupboard door unlocked.’

‘Why do you have a file of random women and a bunch of newspaper reports about Mum?’

His dad stares at him, his face impassive. And Theo suspects that he probably rehearsed exactly what he’d say before he got here. ‘The newspaper reports are old, from the time of your mum’s death. I’d forgotten all about them. And the file is just patients I’ve helped, over the years, that’s all. You wouldn’t understand, not being in the medical profession yourself, but you get attached to people you’ve helped. I wanted to remember them.’

Something doesn’t add up. ‘Then why hide both under lock and key?’

His dad makes a pff sound with his mouth. ‘Oh, give up on the Colombo act, for goodness’ sake. You’re making something out of nothing. I just forgot about them. You know I retired years ago.’ He crosses his legs, looking at Theo with a smug expression.

Theo pushes back his hair, feeling flustered. He can’t allow his dad to wiggle out of this. Not now he’s here. Not now he’s brought this up.

‘So Cynthia was lying, was she?’

His father adjusts the knee of his trousers. ‘It’s complicated. I did nothing wrong. She had a boyfriend, she got hysterical and tried to make out I’d acted inappropriately. I wasn’t with your mother then. It was before we met. I don’t need to force women to be with me, Theo.’