Dad left because he found out about Mum’s affair with a colleague. The house erupted into a blazing row.
*What did you expect? I’m always stuck here on my own! You’re at that job day and night. I’m a woman, I need attention!*
*And what’ll you say if I put your precious Oliver behind bars? Slip him something, lock him up, eh?* Dad said with icy fury. He was a detective in the Met.
*You wouldn’t dare! You wouldn’t! You ruined everything yourself.*
Mum collapsed onto the sofa, sobbing. Dad had already packed his few belongings and was heading for the door. I stood in the hallway, blocking the way to the living room, ready to throw myself across the threshold to stop him. How could this be happening? We’d always been such a tight-knit family. Mum and Dad never argued, told the same jokes, laughed together. Sure, Dad worked long hours, often coming home dead on his feet, just wanting sleep. But the time we did have together showed we were happy! How could Mum wreck it like this? And wouldn’t Dad ever forgive her?
*James, don’t go,* Mum pleaded, lifting her hands from her tear-streaked face. *Forgive me! Stay. Chris, stop eavesdropping!*
But I didn’t budge. I planted myself in the doorway. At twelve, I thought I could stop them from destroying what I believed was a happy family.
*Chris, move,* Dad ordered, his voice firm—the same tone he used at work, not at home, not with us.
*Don’t go!* I begged.
*Let me pass!*
Still that same cold detachment.
*Dad… what about me?*
He shoved me aside like a piece of furniture and walked out. I think he left in a hurry so he wouldn’t do something reckless. Not just to stop himself hitting Mum in the heat of the moment—he had his service weapon, after all. The rage in his eyes told me he’d done the right thing. I realise that now. But that day, he became the man who pushed me aside like a chair. And Mum became the one who’d torn our lives apart.
Oliver, of course, turned out to be a right prat and dumped Mum not long after Dad left. She was left with nothing—husband gone, lover vanished, son blaming her. It was hard for her, and then there was me…
I started staying out late, falling in with the wrong crowd. Petty theft at first, then we got bolder. We got caught trying to rob some rich kid—not all of us. His security grabbed two of us, me and Danny. Dad, by then a chief inspector in the CID, showed up at the station where I was being held. Our surname was uncommon—Harlow—and my middle name wasn’t Peter but James. Someone recognised him and called.
*Get out,* Dad barked.
*Sod off,* I muttered.
He dragged me out of the cell.
*What about Danny?* I shouted, struggling.
He hauled me into an interrogation room and smacked me hard across the face. Wiping blood and tears, I hated him more than ever.
*How old are you?*
*What?*
*Fifteen?*
I nearly laughed.
*Congratulations! You don’t even know how old your son is!*
*Because you’re not mine!* he roared. *I married Emily when she was already pregnant. Thought she’d be a proper wife. But she was always the same—*he swore—*and always will be.*
*Then who is?* I asked numbly.
He tossed me a handkerchief and a bottle of water. I cleaned myself up. James sat across from me and said, *Sorry I hit you. You disappointed me. Think I don’t have enough on my plate?*
*Then go deal with it.*
*Chris… legally, you’re mine. I’ve paid your mum child support on time. But if this carries on, I’ll wash my hands of you. You want prison? Fine. Not my problem.*
*What about now?*
*What?*
*Am I going to prison?*
He shook his head.
*What about Danny?*
*Danny’s got his own dad. His family’s loaded. They’ll sort it. Worry about yourself. You think prison’s a joke? It’s hell, lad. Juvenile wing? Hell cubed.*
I didn’t want prison. I was just miserable, sick of life, sick of looking at Mum. So I… distracted myself. I told James as much.
*Choice is yours. Either straighten up—school, future. Or carry on down this path, which never ends well. Don’t like the idea of prison? Change.*
He dismissed me. At the door, his voice stopped me.
*And don’t blame your mum. Divorce is never one-sided. What I said about her? Heat of the moment. Forget it.*
*James… Dad, you love each other! Can’t you fix it?* I asked, hopeless.
*Forget that too, son.*
The lads from our crew didn’t want to let me go. Had to fight my way out, wore the bruises for a week. But I got free. Danny’s dad pulled strings, got him probation. He went back to his old ways. I made my choice.
I forgave Mum. Tried hard to. Wanted to ask who my real father was, but never did. Too busy digging myself out of the academic hole I’d dug. Took ages to fix my grades.
I got back on track and applied to a few police colleges.
*Have you lost your mind?* Mum fumed. *That’s no life! Look at your father! No life at all.*
I thought about Dad a lot. Never saw him, though. No hard feelings. After graduating as a lieutenant, I turned up at his station unannounced. Didn’t want anything from him—just to show I’d made the right choice. I hadn’t gone off the rails.
Dad was still chief of the CID. Never climbed higher. Guess he was happy. I popped my head into his office.
*Good afternoon, sir,* I saluted. *Lieutenant Harlow. May I?*
*Chris?* He gaped.
So Mum had kept her word. Never told him.
*Blimey, son. At ease. Sit, talk.*
He poured tea. Offered whisky, but I refused. We talked for an hour. Occasionally, James took work calls. His temples had gone grey, his face lined. This stranger—yet not a stranger—watched me with wet eyes, wiping them away. Got to him, eh? Wonder why.
I shared my plans. Talked footie and politics. Time to leave.
*Right, Dad, I’d better go.*
I stood.
*Hang on. Where you off to? Don’t go.* James stood too. *Why not join our team?*
I hesitated. Did I want to work under him? Probably. Probably spent the last ten years missing him. Bloody ten years. I sat back down.
*Not leaving?* he asked.
*Not yet. Plenty of time for that.*
