BACK IN HARNESS

 

By Beej

 

(The sequel to "I Won't Let You Down")

 

 

"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 center, 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 pretense 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-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 might 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

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 anytime 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 might 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