BACK IN HARNESS

 

by Beej

 

 

"Dad!"

 

The bedroom door flew open and the early morning sun streamed in through the window as the blinds were opened.

 

"C'mon, Dad, get your lazy arse in gear!"

 

"What time is it?" came the muffled question from under the rumpled bedclothes.

 

"7.00am."

 

"Aw, fair go, mate. It's bloody Saturday. Give me a break."

 

"Dad, it's time for your swim. You want to get strong again don't you?"

 

"Yeah, yeah. Two ticks and I'll be right."

 

"I'll make some tea while you get yourself up."

 

"Ta, mate."

 

Henry made his way to the kitchen, grinning to himself. He took great pleasure in bossing his dad around, especially as it was for his own good.

 

Ten minutes later his father came limping into the kitchen and slowly lowered himself into a chair. Henry placed a steaming mug of tea in front of his father, bent forward to kiss the top of his head, and with a cheery 'morning, dad', ruffled his sleep tousled hair before sitting down to drink his own tea and demolish a plate of thickly buttered toast.

 

"Where's mine, son?"

 

"Swim first, food after, and if you manage to do the full distance before giving up, I might even do you a full fry up when we get back."

 

"Good onya, son. That sounds like a plan."

 

Henry had to stop himself from helping his father get up. He seemed to have more trouble moving around in the mornings. At first, he had let Henry help him, but now he gave him *the look* if he made a move to help.

 

It had been six months since he'd left the hospital, and although he'd finally thrown the elbow crutches away, on bad days he still limped quite badly and needed the aid of a stick, or Henry, and on very bad days he entire body was wracked with so much pain it was all he could do to drag himself out of bed and flop down onto the couch in the lounge room.

 

Although his body was stiff and aching all over, he felt today was going to be one of his better days, so he was almost enthusiastic about his morning swimming therapy, even though his stomach was crying out for food.

 

Thankfully the exclusive apartment complex that he and Henry called home had its own health centre, so it was only a short ride down in the lift to get to the gym or pool.

 

They normally had the place to themselves, as during the week, Henry managed to get his father in the water by 5.00am, and most of the other residents led the kind of lifestyle that thought there was only one 5 o'clock in a day, and it certainly wasn’t before noon. Today, however, there seemed to be quite a few people in and around the pool. There had been a recent influx of new residents after some of the apartments had been upgraded, and Henry remembered hearing that a welcome breakfast party had been arranged there.

 

Henry glanced over at his father feeling his hesitation and hearing him curse quietly. Terry walked slowly towards the seating on the opposite side of the pool from the party, and Henry helped him sit down to get his second wind.

 

"You okay, dad?"

 

"Yeah, mate. Apples."

 

"We can give it a miss today if you like. I know you'd rather be down here when it's a bit more quiet."

 

"No, son. It's fine. If they want to have a squiz at the freak show, then fuck 'em."

 

"Dad, you are NOT a freak!"

 

"Okay, son. I'm kidding. Let's get on with it shall we. My stomach thinks my throat's been cut, and I'm so hungry I could eat a horse and chase the bloody jockey. The sooner we get finished, the sooner I get that fry-up you owe me"

 

Before they could make a move, one of the pool attendants came over to them.

 

"G'day Mr. T, Henry. A few more bodies down here than usual, eh? Would you like a lane roped off?"

 

"Thanks, Paul. You sure that won't upset the 'in crowd' over there?"

 

"No worries, you've lived here longer than they have, and you certainly make more use of the pool than they do. Give me a mo and I'll set it up for you."

 

As they were waiting, a swimmer left the pool and came dripping over to them.

 

"G'Day Ter, Henry. How ya going?"

 

"Fine, Tim, ta."

 

"You going in? I can't believe you've dragged yourself down here to join the newbies party."

 

"Just waiting for Paul to rope off a lane, then I'll do my flipper impression to entertain the masses."

 

"Great. Can't wait to see how they react. I have to say, you started a few tongues wagging when you came in."

 

"Yeah? What were they saying?"

 

"Well, I'll tell you this, money doesn't buy manners! They are so bloody rude. Wanted to know what some scruffy long haired wanker who has to have help walking through the door thinks he's doing in *their* pool."

 

"Just wait till I get my sweats off. That'll give them something to talk about."

 

"Bloody oath! No worries, Ter, your fan club is ready to cheer you on."

 

Terry glanced over to the other side of the pool and saw the smiling faces of some of the long term residents. They all waved, and he and Henry waved back.

 

Just then, Paul returned to say everything was ready. Terry winked at his son, making a show of struggling out of his sweats. When he was ready, Henry helped him up, and guided him to the edge of the pool. Nearing the crowd, they heard quiet gasps and muttering as the myriad scars covering his body came into view.

 

Ignoring the whispering, Terry looked at Henry. "Okie  dokie, son. What's on the books today?"

 

"Just twenty lengths this morning, dad. The first two under water."

 

"We could try for three if you like."

 

"No, dad. I'm not sure if your lungs are up for it yet."

 

"You're the boss, son. Two under and eighteen on top, then back upstairs for a big, juicy brekkie."

 

By this time, any pretence from the party group of ignoring Terry had been dropped, and the pool quickly emptied as they sat back waiting for the 'cripple' to give them a good laugh.

 

Henry let go of Terry's arm, causing him to fight for a moment to keep his balance. Those watching who didn't know him were waiting, and hoping, for him to fall face first into the water. Once he was steady, Henry took a whistle out of his pocket.

 

"On my signal, dad."

 

Terry nodded, stood as straight as his aching muscles would let him, and waited. As the whistle blew, he executed a perfect textbook dive, and was soon on his way to the deep end underwater. As he broke the surface at the end of his second sub aqua length, he caught sight of Henry and Tim waving merrily at him. He was soon into a strong, easy rhythm, eating up the laps.

 

His cheering section was raucous in their encouragement and were soon joined by a few of the newbies. When he'd finished his twenty and was helped out of the water by Tim, he looked over at Henry and saw him beaming with pride as he came forward with a large towel. Terry took it and wrapped it around his shoulders, allowing Henry and Tim to help him to a seat.

 

"You're getting fitter, mate," said Tim.

 

"It's a long bloody time coming," Terry grumbled in reply.

 

"Come on, dad. You nearly died. It's going to take time."

 

"He's right, Ter. Stop punishing yourself. You're doing just fine. What're your plans for the rest of the day?"

 

"Big brekkie first. I'm fuckin' starving!"

 

"I'll ride up with you. Lou will be thinking I've swum off with a mermaid."

 

As they headed towards the lift, they noticed one couple from the party group was already there and about to press the button. The wife was 'discussing' the fact that she thought it was disgraceful how the complex management allowed 'undesirable' people to use *their* facilities. Tim distinctly heard 'criminal' and 'how else could you explain the scars'. He turned to see if Terry had also heard, and just got a shrug from him in reply.

 

The woman was oozing snobbery and one-one-upmanship, and Terry took an instant dislike to her. As the lift doors opened, Tim cleared his throat to let them know they weren't alone. They spun round, and were shocked to see the trio standing behind them. She sniffed a couple of times, then decided to speak.

 

"Are you visiting a resident? My husband and I have one of the executive apartments on the 10th floor. We overlook the harbour, you know."

 

"Good for you, luv."

 

"Oh yes, the management are VERY particular who purchases property in this complex. Our apartment is one of the top of the range. There are only two that are better than ours, and they are the two penthouse apartments. VERY exclusive, VERY expensive."

 

"If you tell me which floor you need, I'm right by the buttons, it will save you reaching over, Mr..?"

 

"Terry."

 

"I wasn't talking to you," Mrs. Snobby said, eyeing Terry up like he was her next sacrifice. She turned to Tim.

 

"Which floor would you like, Mr...?"

 

"You can call me Tim."

 

"Alright, Tim. Floor number?"

 

Terry and Tim looked at each other, then turned to her. Terry spoke first.

 

"Penthouse."

 

Henry nearly choked trying not to laugh as Mrs. Snobby spluttered at the mention of the revered (in her eyes) floor. Her expression went from shock to disbelief, and finally settled on suspicion. She couldn't believe either owners of the penthouses would want someone like this Terry person, as a visitor. She decided he was playing her for a fool, so ignored him. She turned once again to Tim, and asked him the same question.

 

"Penthouse, please," he said, winking at her suggestively.

 

The ride up to the tenth floor was silent apart from female muttering, and the strangled giggles of Terry, Henry and Tim. As the couple left and the doors closed on them as they glared back into the lift, the trio all but collapsed in gales of laughter.

 

"That was fun," gasped Terry, wiping the tears from his eyes.

 

"Well, Ter, me old mate, I think Mrs. Snooty Pants disapproves. She thinks we're lowering the tone."

 

"Just wait 'til she finds out that we're the owners and not just visiting."

 

"Well, dad, just take a look at yourselves from her eyes... a beaten up old cripple in baggy worn sweats, hair like an embryonic hippy, and a scruffy beard, and you, 'Mr. You Can Call Me Tim', in your torn footy gear. I can guarantee that when she finds out just which 'Tim' you are, she'll be all over you like a rash."

 

Both men laughed at Henry and agreed with him.

 

"I don't think your  dad will be too safe either, mate. I can see her fainting away at the thought of having a knight in shining armour living one floor above her."

 

"Piss off and give us a hand, will ya? Or I just might have to let it slip to Lou that you've been chatting up the 'new money' in town."

 

They were still laughing as they left the lift, Terry leaning heavily on Tim as they waited for Henry to open the door.

 

"Henry, bring Flipper round later after you've thrown him a couple of raw fish for his brekkie. I've got tickets for the game this arvo. I think it's about time we took the old man out into the fresh air."

 

"Ripper!" said Henry, grinning like a Cheshire Cat.

 

"He sounds more like an Ocker every day, Ter."

 

"Yeah, his mum's gonna kill me the next time she comes down for a visit," laughed Terry in reply.

 

Once inside, Henry headed for the kitchen to get his dad some food, while Terry went to take a shower and change. He entered the kitchen just as Henry was dishing up a two large plates of bacon, sausage, eggs and mushrooms. There was already a pile of buttered toast on the table. Terry grinned, thinking how Henry had already eaten once that morning. They ate in companionable silence, and when they'd finished, Henry aimed Terry towards the lounge room while he cleaned up the kitchen before heading over to Tim's.

 

Returning from his shower, he found Terry fast asleep, sitting up on the couch. Not wanting him to wake up with a stiff neck, he gently lifted Terry's legs and laid him on the couch, quietly leaving the apartment to walk across the hall.

 

Tim's wife opened the door and invited him in.

 

"Morning, Henry. How's your dad?"

 

"He's good thanks. He did twenty lengths this morning."

 

"I hear he had quite an audience as well. Sounds like he made a good impression."

 

            "Yes, once he got in the water. Before then most of them were beastly and bloody rude. I offered to bring him back up, but he wouldn't have it."

 

"Hey, Henry. Where's Terry? Has he changed his mind about the footy?"

 

"He kind of flaked out after I fed him. I just came over to let you know we might be a bit late."

 

"Oh man, I can't let this opportunity pass. Come on, let's go wake him up."

 

They all headed back to the other apartment, Tim hell bent on waking Terry in the most hilarious way he could think of. When they got there and saw how peaceful he looked, he changed his mind, and Henry urged them to join him in the kitchen.

 

"He looks so much younger when he's asleep," Lou remarked.

 

"Yes, he's not in any pain at the moment. He wasn't like that this morning."

 

"Bad night?" Tim asked.

 

"I think he slept a bit, but he was pretty stiff and sore when he got up. He could hardly walk, but don't let on I told you."

 

"Don't worry too much, Henry. He's going to be just fine."

 

"I know, Lou. He gets so angry that it's taking so long. He keeps forgetting how badly he was hurt. He's talking about going into the office on Monday though. Jean's been coming over to keep him up to speed with what's going on, and he's champing at the bit.!"

 

"That could  be a good idea. Let him sit behind the desk for a few hours. Even if it's only sorting and signing paperwork, it will make him feel useful. It could be just what he needs."

 

"You could be right. But for now, the most important thing is to get him awake in time to get to the game."

 

"Too right. Put the kettle on. I'm sure the smell of a fresh brew will do the trick."

 

They took their tea into the lounge room and quietly sat down. Henry placed a mug on the table by Terry's head, and they all sat watching him sleep. It didn't take too long before his nose began to twitch and he stirred. Henry quietly called to him telling him there was a cuppa waiting. His eyes began to open, and focused on Tim and Lou. He dragged himself into a sitting position and rubbed his face with his hands.

 

"Good morning, sleepy head."

 

"G'day, Lou," Terry said sheepishly. "Guess I must have dropped off for a second."

 

"Or three, or four," laughed Tim. "It's your choice, mate. The couch or the footy. I reckon if we leave now we should get down to the car park just in time to get there for the kick-off."

 

"Go bite yer bum, mate. I'm ready, willing and, hopefully, able. So let's go!"

 

In no time they had reached Telstra Stadium and were settled in Tim's private box.

 

"So much for fresh air," laughed Terry.

 

"No worries, Ter. We’ll go sit outside once the game starts. Much better that way, get the atmosphere."

 

Soon the players trooped out onto the field, and everyone stood for the national anthems. The game was a total wipe out for the visiting South Africa side, losing 56-6, and the beer flowed non-stop all around the field. Henry insisted on a curry on the way home. Terry was flagging by then, so they decided on a take out. They reached the lift in the parking area complete with all their very smelly bags of curry, just as Mrs. Snobby and her husband arrived from their car. They looked down their noses as the less than sober men piled into the lift with them.

 

"Still visiting your friends in the penthouse, I see," she said through gritted teeth.

 

"No, luv. I'm not visiting anyone. I bloody live there," growled Terry.

 

The only response was a snort.

 

"Aw fuck 'em," Tim muttered, almost under his breath when they reached the tenth floor and the lift doors opened.

 

As they reached the penthouses and staggered to Tim’s door, Mrs. Snobby was already moaning at her husband one floor below. He wanted to watch the sports results. He hadn't been able to get a ticket for the sell out game, and wanted to see any highlights they might be showing. She stopped her tirade as she heard that local and national dignitaries had been at the game, and she glanced at the screen as the Prime Minister's name was mentioned. She was amazed to see him in one of the private boxes standing next to none other than Tim, and on the other side, sat the scruffy man who said he owned one of the penthouses. She took more notice on hearing that the Prime Minister was a guest of  Timothy Nolan, the local multi millionaire owner of a string of the most exclusive restaurants across the state, and his wife, Louise, owner of hair and beauty salons which were the favourite haunt of the rich and famous.

 

So, maybe Tim was a resident upstairs after all. She still didn't believe his scruffy companion, and guessed he was one of Tim's "charity cases". She decided to find a way to ingratiate herself with Tim Nolan. It always paid to have influential friends.

 

Meanwhile, Terry and Henry were saying goodnight to Tim and Lou, with a promise to meet up the following day for lunch.

 

Sunday morning came around a bit too quickly for Henry. Although since being in Uni in Sydney he'd become a fan of good old Aussie beer, he still couldn't manage to tank up as much as his mates, and he was feeling a little fragile. He decided to give Terry the morning off from the pool, so turned over and went back to sleep. He woke a couple of hours later to a loud crash from the kitchen. He rushed out of bed, worried that his dad may have fallen.

 

When he reached the door, he stopped to watch his father leaning on the sink swearing, a broken mug by his feet.

 

"You okay, dad?"

 

"Apples, mate. Sorry if I woke you. I was trying to make a cuppa. Missed the counter top. I think I'm still pissed."

 

"No worries, dad. You sit down and I'll get you a couple of pannies. Let's give the pool a miss this morning, shall we?"

 

"I can live with that. A nice cuppa and back to bed I think."

 

"I don't think so. We've got a lunch date, remember? We've slept most of the morning away already."

 

They drank their tea and headed back to their rooms to shower and dress, and were soon knocking on Tim's door. Lou laughed at the state of them, saying Tim was the same.

 

"I think I'd better drive us over to the restaurant. Tim's probably still be over the limit."

 

They all held their breath when the lift reached the tenth floor, but it didn't stop, to everyone's relief. They got to the car with no interruptions and were soon parking at the back of the restaurant. They made their way to Tim's private balcony which overlooked the public terrace.

 

As they helped Terry to his seat, Tim glanced down at the diners below.

 

"Christ! Don't look now, Mrs. Snobby and her old man are down below."

 

"Fuck me! Sounds like you've got a stalker, Tim," quipped Terry.

 

"Yeah, right. I wonder if we can move the table back from the edge a bit without causing too much noise?"

 

"Just sit over the other side, mate. Lou and Henry can sit with their backs to the rail, then your not so secret admirer won't see you."

 

Everything went well until they stood up to leave. Mrs. Snobby just happened to look up at the balcony and spotted them. She waved up at Tim, who felt obliged to acknowledge her, after all, she was eating in one of his restaurants.

 

In a flash, she was up on the balcony, her husband trailing behind. She made a beeline for Tim, totally ignoring the rest of the group until Tim introduced his wife.

 

"This is my wife, Lou, and of course you know Terry and Henry."

 

Mrs. Snobby grasped Lou's hand and fawned over her. Terry and Henry didn't rate a second glance. Terry sat on the edge of the table smiling at his friend's discomfort. He realised that Mr Snobby was standing next to him with his hand outstretched.

 

"Hello, Terry, isn't it? May I introduce myself? Trevor Ballard... and that's my wife, Rosa-Lynn. Could I have a word?"

 

"Pleased to meet you, have a seat, it looks like your wife could be a while," Terry replied, shaking Trevor's hand in greeting.

 

"I just wanted to apologise on behalf of my wife. She can be a little.."

 

"Rude?" Henry asked.

 

"Insensitive, she wasn't always like this. She won the lotto jackpot, and now looks down on 'normal' people."

 

"Takes all sorts."

 

"Your son is  right though, she was very rude to you yesterday and treated you with contempt you didn't deserve. I hope this doesn't mean that you and I can't get along."

 

"No worries, Trev. Come up to my place any time you need a bolt hole," Terry winked, liking Trevor already. "I really do live in the penthouse, number 2, and Tim lives in number 1."

 

"Maybe I will," smiled Trevor, "Especially if there's a game on. Rosa-Lynn thinks footy is beneath us."

 

"Strewth, mate. You need rescuing."

 

"And my dad is just the person to do it too," laughed Henry.

 

Trevor laughed back, not quite understanding, and noticing the warning look Terry flashed at his son.

 

Rosa-Lynn called to Trevor, reminding him about the afternoon performance at the Opera House. Terry winked as he saw Trevor groan, and patted him on the back as he rose.

 

The group headed back to the car and headed for Rushcutters Bay, where they boarded Tim's motor cruiser. Terry was finally getting the fresh air he had been promised the day before. They spent the afternoon cruising up the Parramatta river. It was early evening by the time they got back and on the way to the lift, Terry remembered he needed something out of the Jag, so told them he would catch them up.

 

He was just about to open the door when he heard an all too familiar voice.

 

"Just what do you think you're doing? That's what you are is it, a car thief?"

 

"Fuck," muttered Terry under his breath recognising the voice. He turned.

 

"It's none of your business what I’m doing," he said quietly.

 

Henry and Tim were on their way back to find Terry, and  recognised the dangerously soft tone of his voice. If they didn't get Mrs. Ballard away from him soon, he may just explode.

 

"Mrs. B, your husband is looking for you in the foyer, he said it was pretty urgent," called Tim.

 

"But, this 'friend' of yours was lurking around that beautiful Jaguar. I'm sure he was up to no good. He says it's his, but."

 

"Let us sort it out, luv. You'd better see what your husband wants."

 

"Yes, I suppose so. If you need me for a statement, you know where I live."

 

"Unfortunately," grumbled Terry.

 

"C'mon, dad, let it go. The stupid woman seems to have taken it upon herself to be the building neighbourhood watch."

 

"That's all we bloody need," Terry and Tim said, shaking their heads. "That woman is fast becoming a royal pain in the arse, and she's only just moved in."

 

As they got back to their floor, Terry went with Tim and Lou and Henry let himself into their place. About an hour later he heard Terry's key in the lock and turned to watch him come in the door. Before him stood the father he was used to, hair in a military cut, and clean shaven.

 

"Well, I always knew you cleaned up well, Dad, but it's a while since I saw you looking like that."

 

"Pass muster do I, son?" asked Terry.

 

"Yeah, you'll do. You really mean to go to the office tomorrow then?"

 

"Yep, I wouldn't mind some company as well. Want to come?"

 

"Too right. Thanks dad."

 

Terry decided to turn in and kissed his son goodnight. Henry smiled as he watched his dad head for his room. He seemed to be much better since deciding to go back to work.

 

Monday, 5.00am. The pool was empty. Henry soon had Terry in the water, urging him on when he thought he was tiring. He was feeling good, and even managed to get out of the pool without any help. They made their way back to the apartment for a shower and breakfast, before Terry went to get dressed. Henry was already sitting on the couch waiting for him when he came out of his room.

 

"Wow, I'm impressed. That suit fits pretty well. Looks like you’ve regained a lot if the weight you lost."

 

"Thanks, son. You ready to go?"

 

Terry didn't feel up to the short walk to the office, so they took the car. They soon pulled into his parking spot and were headed up to TOL's office suite.

 

As soon as they left the lift, Terry was swamped by the reception girls, who had to be peeled off him by Jean, his PA. She gave him a welcome back hug and kiss, then pushed him gently in the direction of his office. She soon had him sitting behind his desk, a huge pile of papers in front of him, a steaming mug of tea off to the side. He smiled up at her and watched her until she left the office.

 

Henry sat on the sofa watching his dad. He seemed as happy as Larry, and back in his element. He just hoped that he wouldn't try to do too much and wear himself out.

 

"She's nice isn't she, dad."

 

"One of the best, son. They don't make them like her too often," he replied, gazing at the door Jean had just closed behind her.

 

Henry smiled to himself, his dad must be feeling better, especially if he was finally noticing what a stunner Jean was. Perhaps her visits to the apartment were more than just office updates.

 

Terry spent a couple of hours going through paperwork, then looked up and winked at Henry.

 

"Early lunch?"

 

"Good idea, dad. Your shout."

 

"Why doesn't that surprise me?"

 

Terry got up slowly and stretched. He picked up the stick Henry had insisted on bringing up from the car, and made his way to the outer office, perching on the edge of  Jean's desk to let her know he was off to lunch. As he got up he lightly squeezed her shoulder telling her he'd let her know if he decided to call it a day and go straight home. The phone rang just as he turned to leave.

 

"Hang on, Terry, you might want to take this," Jean called, handing the receiver over to him. Henry noticed how their fingers touched as she handed him the phone.

 

"Thorne... Hey, mate, where the fuck are you? I'll come and pick you up. No, it's not a problem, I've got Henry with me. Half an hour? See you then."

 

"Who was that, dad?"

 

"Dino, he's at the airport. Fancy a ride down there?"

 

"Yeah why not, we can stop somewhere to eat on the way back."

 

"Sounds like a plan, mate. Jean, we'll go pick Dino up. If you're very lucky you'll have left for the day before we get back," Terry winked at Jean as he and Henry left the office.

 

"Are you going to be okay driving that far, dad?"

 

"Yeah, this time of day it should only be a 30 minute trip, and if you're brave enough, maybe I'll let Dino talk me into letting him drive us back."

 

"Seeing as I’m not allowed anywhere near your pride and joy, I'll risk it if you will," Henry grinned

 

Henry handed Terry his stick as they got out of the car, and winked at him.

 

"Lay it on thick, dad, or he might not make the offer to drive."

 

Terry took the stick, and leaning on it limped heavily towards the building. They soon spotted Dino pacing up and down. Could that man never stay still?

 

"Uncle Dean," Henry called.

 

"Hey, Henry. How're ya doing?"

 

"I'm good thanks, how are you?"

 

"Same as ever. Where's the old man?"

 

"He's over by the door."

 

Dino looked to where Henry was pointing and saw Terry leaning against the wall, stick in hand, staring out of the window.

 

"Is he okay, Henry? He looks tired."