--Back-on-Track-- Page 6

  Layla had come up with a great idea. They wanted to mark the first month for Dad in his perfect job. Layla had been making a cake at school, which she had kept, just for this special occasion. Mike had made a train out of lollipop sticks in his class and he would give this to his dad also. Everything just seemed to click into place for the timing. Mike only had to fix on one or two more sticks at home so it would be finished in time.

  They knew Dad would be home around 8 p.m. today so they waited in the dark for him, ten minutes before this -- itching to spring out and shout “SURPRISEEEE, HAPPY ONE MONTH AT WORK DAY, DADDD!!!” Layla had even had them rehearse it -- twice!

  Just when their knees were beginning to ache, Dad finally arrived. They heard the door go and the light clicked-on in the hallway.

  “I’m home. Kids, where are you? Mikey, Layla, are you OK?”

  Dad opened the living room door and switched on the light to be shouted at gleefully.

  “SUUUUURRPPPRRRISE!” Dad looked happy but then confused.

  “A month since I started? No, that’s not right . . . it’s only been three weeks, but thank you so much for this!” Dad kissed them both.

  “But Dad, the night you stayed out late when you wore your best shirt and the van picked you up? We thought that must have been your first night,” Mike explained.

  “Oh, I see, er, sorry that was something else. I will tell you soon. It is a surprise, like this, but it’s not ready yet.”

  Mike and Layla felt deflated, like a pair of popped balloons. “OK, Dad, we understand,” Layla said, in her best acting voice, “Look what we made you.”

  They showed him the cake and the train design -- Dad being massively impressed with both. They all had some cake and tea and felt better for it. Mike had a million questions, but he bit his lip, as Dad said the truth would be revealed soon.

  Like a magician, he said, he needed preparation time “before he revealed all,” he’d said in a funny voice.

  It was around a week later that Mike came across Dad, waiting in his bedroom for him, which was unusual.

  “Hey, Dad, everything OK? What you doing?”

  “I’m just waiting for you, son. I have talked with Layla already. Are you free this weekend? I am planning on having someone round. Grandad is also coming . You don’t mind, do you?”

  “Sure, Dad, I don’t mind.” Mike had a feeling he would not get an answer if he asked who was coming. Dad had been even more mysterious than before the last few days.

  “Great, I might need your help, son. I’m going to try and cook some food for us all. Layla said she’d help, already. Can I count on you to complete the dream team?”

  “Yeah, of course, Dad. I will try to help.”

  Mike was no great cook, but he knew Dad was worse -- it largely was a case of cremation when he’d tried to cook anything in the past. Mike knew Dad needed help. Whoever this guest was, he hoped they did not go to posh restaurants often and expected the same. If they did, then they were in for a whole different type of eating experience!

  Dad had asked them to put on some smart clothes for the day when the morning came around. Mike decided to leave the Ramsbottermly Rovers shirt in his wardrobe and put on a nice green shirt he had for special occasions, with black trousers and shoes to match. He couldn’t remember when he last wore the outfit. Layla had a pink flowery dress that she wore often but was still smart-looking.

  After picking up Grandad and putting him before a quiz show, they had been helping Dad prepare the food most of the day. The ingredients looked safe enough as they were, but Mike worried about the end product, whether it would look school-dinner-luminous-green, or like it appeared in the cookbook that Dad had borrowed from Joanna.

  “You sure this looks alright, little Layla?”

  “Yes, Dad, it’s fine, just add the stock now.

  “Stock? Our stock of what? Other ingredients?”

  “No, silly, our chicken stock -- the little silver cube over there Dad!”

  “This is so complex! Give me a railway platform over a hot stove, any day of the week. I’m just worried it will turn out like my other cookings, Layla: inedible!”

  “It will be fine, Dad. Mike, can you dice those carrots for us please.” Mike did as instructed, Layla being the head chef, which he did not mind. The smell was going quite well, and the colour was not radioactive-looking so they did stand a good.

  It was around 2 p.m. when they heard the doorbell go. “Oh no! Already? How do I look? Layla?” Layla put her finger to her lips, wiping off a bit of sauce on Dad’s cheek.

  “You look great, Dad!” Mike nodded also.

  “OK, you keep watch. I’ll get the door and see to our guest.” Dad ran off, nearly slipping in his haste. Mike heard some voices then the door shutting again. He could not stop himself. He had to see who had arrived, who this mysterious guest was Dad wouldn’t speak about. Surely it was not any of his friends. Someone from work? Now, that would make sense! That would explain why he would go to all this effort. With the cogs of his brain clicking in his brain, and a smile on his face as he realised he had finally figured it out. He went through the kitchen door and out to the hallway to the dining room, then saw the guest. His jaw nearly hit the floor.

  “Emmmaaa!” Layla had come from behind him and ran to our unexpected guest. It was Emma, wow, of all the people Mike thought he might see in his dining room, she was certainly not one of them.

  “It’s nice to see you too, Layla, and you also, Mike. How have you been?” Mike was too stunned to be able to reply. “Your father has been telling me all about you and what you have been doing since we last saw each other.”

  Mike could see she was nervous, and Dad also, who amazingly was holding her hand. He had to say something but couldn’t find the words . . . luckily he didn’t have to straight away.

  PPPUMMMMMMMMMPPPBBBPPPPPOOFFFFFFFSSSSSSSSSSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTSeeeeeeeeeeee

  “Don’t mind, Grandad, he’s got wind problems. It is great to see you again, Emma.” The atmosphere suddenly went as they all started laughing -- as well as holding their noses, of course.

  “Daaad!! We have a guest, can you hold them in, please! Right, have to check the food. You three catch-up while I’m preparing it. Layla, might need your help in five minutes.” Dad went slightly red and everyone smiled.

  Emma told Mike and Layla everything that had happened. Dad came back later to fill in some of the remaining gaps. It was Pete’s van that had taken Dad away that night. Mike had never seen this vehicle before, as it was a new one his dad explained. Mike had, of course, told Pete what happened before he’d left the pet shop with Stephan. It was actually Pete who finally convinced his dad to meet up with Emma.

  “You have to at least apologise for all the confusion, by getting her a drink.” That was what Pete had told him.

  It turned out, that night, which did not go great at first, but ended well, turned into more meetings. What Layla and Mike had thought were work shifts at the station, turned out to be nights out at the local bistro, the cinema and even a café! They all laughed as Mike, Layla and Dad talked about last time they were in a café together.

  It also turned out that Dad’s new job, the most amazing job he could have ever dreamed to have, was in part down to Emma, although she would not have her part as anything but tiny.

  “Because of my father, I knew some people on the board of One Transport, to set up an interview for your dad, fortunately. It only got his foot in the door, mind; when he had the interview, they were so amazed by his knowledge of railways and his personal manner -- they simply had to take him on!” Dad didn’t say much about this -- here they were talking about trains and he incredibly went quietly red, looking at Emma. How strange!

  “Your dad was just what they needed. Tell them what they said last week,” Emma prompted Dad to eventually spill the beans. It turned out that he was in-line for ‘employee of the month’ in his first month, something that had never been don
e before in the company.

  Dad served the chicken casserole with vegetables on the side. He anxiously watched Emma carefully take her first taste.

  “Is it OK, Emma? I hope so, sorry if it isn’t. I can get you something else, no problem whatsoever.”

  “It is, it is err, how can I say this? . . . It is great!” Emma said with a wink.

  “Well, that will be down to my fantastic children here who helped me every step of the way, like they always do.” Dad beamed at Mike and Layla, affectionately.

  The afternoon flew by as they enjoyed the food; the dessert was lovely ice cream and strawberries which they all agreed was a perfect end to the meal, even Grandad. Emma said she would cook for them next time at her house. She asked to see the geckos afterwards and later they all sat in the front room, Dad holding Emma’s hand as they watched an animated film.

  “Sorry we didn’t tell you earlier, kids. We just didn’t want to rush it and get your hopes up. We are still taking it easy, being very good friends, but you never know. Stranger things have happened eh, Emma?” Dad looked at Emma suddenly slightly unsure of himself. Emma kissed him on the cheek.

  “Stranger things have happened indeed!” she said.

  Mike thought he saw Gary, sat on the other side of the room, smiling. Geckos can’t smile, though, he knew that! Can they? Mike felt a warm feeling in his heart, as he enjoyed the moment, feeling content, even though he did not know the answer.

  Mike was unique, he realised. Unique in all the right ways. He was uniquely happy with his life and those he had with him, and realised he no longer felt any guilt, knowing his mother would be happy too with how things now were.

  P.S.---Some weeks after, the sound of running electric model trains filled an attic, along with laughter and joy. “Tracks have been repaired, with further works scheduled soon,” was the report given by a local railway ticket inspector. An ice cream man, in bright new overalls he had been given, said that cones would be on the house to celebrate the railway’s grand reopening.

  The End

  About the Author

  L. P. Donnelli is a children’s author from the UK.

  His debut, --Back-on-Track--, has been in the top 1% of the Kindle Best Sellers List, for all downloads on Amazon.com, and has also been in the top 15 Best Sellers List, both in the UK and the US, for children’s humorous fiction.

  He currently lives in London with his partner and their menagerie of pets.

  His second children’s book, Dead Diary, is out now on Kindle and in Paperback.

  You can contact him on Twitter: @lpdonnelli

  Or on Facebook: www.facebook.com/lpdonnelli

  www.facebook.com/backontrackbook

  *If you enjoyed this book, the author would be massively, stupendously grateful if you left a review. Thank you.*