The other side of the story [antikvár]

I TO: [email protected] FROM: Gemma [email protected] SUBJECT: runaway dad Susan, you wanted news. Well, I've got news. Although you might be sorry you asked for it It looks like my dad has left my mam. I'm not sure how serious it is. More as and when. Gemma xxx When I first got the call, I thought he'd died. Two reasons. One: I've been to a worrying number of funerals over the past while — friends of my parents and worse again, parents of my friends. Two: Mam had called me on my mobile; the first time she'd ever done that because she'd always persisted in the belief that you can only call a mobile from a mobile, like they're CB radios or something. So when I put my phone to my ear and heard her choke, 'He's gone,' who could blame me for thinking that Dad had kicked the bucket and that now it was only her and me. 'He just packed a bag and left.' 'He packed a . . . ?' It was then that I realized that Dad mightn't actually be dead. 'Come home,' she said. 'Right. ' But I was at work. And not just in the office, but in a hotel ballroom overseeing the finishing touches to a medical conference {Seeing the Back of Backache). It was an enormous deal which had taken weeks to pull together; I'd been there until twelve-thirty the previous night coordinating the arrival of 5