The Father's Betrayal

Twenty-Six Years Ago“Hi, Mitch.” It’s Frank, his solid frame leaning back against the bar. “How’re you doing?” “Hi, Frank,” she smiles then pulls a face. “I can't hang around I'm afraid. I only popped in to pick up a couple of things.” Angelo pops up from behind the bar, holding up a carrier bag; gold and green with an expensive designer logo. “This the one?” “That’s right. I’ll take that one with me. Can you let me see the others too.” Angelo passes Mitch’s collection of bags across the bar and she squats on her haunches to sort through them. “Going away for Christmas?” asks Frank. “Visiting family, I suppose?” “Yes and No. Yes, I’m going away, but not to visit family.” She smiles brightly up at him. “Larry's taking me away somewhere.” “Oh!” Hands in pockets, Frank rocks on his heels. “Larry? He didn't mention anything to me.” “It all happened quite suddenly last night. He's picking me up this afternoon.” “Where are you going?” “No idea. He says it’s a surprise.” Frank rubs at a temple, then paints on a smile. “Well, good luck, Mitch. Have a great Christmas. You're landing on your feet there.” Mitch, holding up a silk blouse for inspection, pauses, looks at him. “How do you mean?” “Well, he’s rich, isn’t he. And… I mean, I know Larry’s a bit of a cold fish sometimes, but his heart's in the right place.” She swings her head slowly, brow creasing. “You know…” says Frank. “… with the kind of money he's spending on that Blessingmoors shelter.” Her eyes widen. “Blessingmoors? That place they were talking about in the papers? It's Larry doing that?” “Sure. It’s him. I mean, philanthropist or what?” He jolts back at her expression. “Whoops…. Let the cat out of the bag, have I?” Mitch blinks hard. “He never told me anything like that. He just said he's a travelling businessman.” Frank purses his mouth. “Likes to keep his life under a bushel, doesn’t he. As for the travelling… I think he might be thinking of doing less of it. He's had me showing him apartments in the City recently, as though he’s thinking of settling.” Mitch just stares at him. He kisses her cheek. “Have a great Christmas, Mitch. Don’t forget to come back, eh?” “Um, yes.” She checks her watch. “I’ve got to go.” Mitch gathers up her collection of bags and, with a wave back, leaves. Frank slumps forward on the bar, leaning on his elbows. Angelo wipes the counter. “You okay?” “Yeah... No…. No, not really.” He swipes a hand back through his hair. “Feeling pissed if I’m honest.” Angelo takes a bottle of malt from the top shelves, holding it up with a questioning glance. “Yes, I will I think.” The barman pours a measure, making it a generous one. “Why don't you make a play for her yourself?” “How do I compete with that? I mean, you can't blame her, can you? It's the chance of a lifetime for a girl like her.” With twenty years behind him in his work, Angelo knows better than to answer such a question. *****