The Reluctant Father He left us many times before but this time he went through the night. No sign of him for fourteen days, fourteen hours and 33 minutes. Vanished without a word. My Dad the bestest person in the world. Friday comes and I can't concentrate on Scooby Doo, running back and forth to the bedroom checking my reflection. The doorbell rings loudly in the hall. Dad stands on the doorstep, he not coming in, he's with Georgie-boy in a yellow two seater. I hand him the welcome home card made at school, it tears and crumples as he squashes it into the back pocket of his faded Wranglers. Hope flies out of reach up to the chimney tops. “Where am I sitting Dad?” I say looking up at the tanned man before me. “Sit on my knee, you'll be fine, get in, hurry up”. The journey uncomfortable, twists and turns in the road, stories of the two week holiday in Spain. Smells of Garlic, new leather jackets and duty free John Player Special fill the small cramped cabin. “Are you coming home Dad?” Unheard over the laughter and plans for their night ahead.