Take a sad song and make it better

Chapter Twenty Eight

Dear Paul,

Hamburg sounds great, better then the 'pool at least. I wish I was there! I just get to stay here with Dad and listen to him brood. 

I don't mean to rain on your parade but Dad is really furious with you. I've never seen him like this, I hear him grumbling to himself all the time and the other night I swear I heard him talking to Mum...

You've really sent him off his rocker Paul, if he keeps going on like this then maybe you should consider coming home, I don't know who to deal with him like this on my own. 

Anyways, I do have an actual reason for writing you, Ginny reckons that Mary said her first word!

Of course it was Daddy - I was there and it just sounded like her usual gibberish but Gin assures me she was saying Daddy. 

Maybe you should give up the drink for one night so you'd have some spare quid to call Auntie Gin and actually talk to your Kid, who knows maybe she'll repeat it for you. 

And yes I intended that to sound as snarky as possible. You said you would call and you haven't, not even once. Maybe Dad would settle down a bit if you talked to him. 

Anyway hope the Germans are treating you nicely, try not to mention the war I've heard its a sore subject - although knowing John I'm sure he's probably doing Hitler impressions on stage. 

Hope to hear from you soon. 

- Mike. 

P.s. Bring me back a present, a good one too! I bloody deserve it for dealing with Dad while your off getting pissed and fucking Krauts. 

                                                          *****************************

Paul was alone in the groups room behind the Bambi Kino, the sound of some German film could be heard faintly through the thick concrete walls along with the occasional creak of Paul's newly acquired leather pants. 

His eyes prickled slightly as he read his Brothers letter, but he didn't cry. Simply because he just didn't have the energy to muster up any tears. 

Paul had already felt weak and tried physically, living for weeks on pills, beer and cornflakes will do that to you, but now he felt weak emotionally. Completely broken really. 

His child was reaching once in a lifetime milestones and where was her Father? In a hovel in somewhere in Germany wasting the money he was meant to be saving for her on drink and strippers. 

Practically Father of the fucking Year. 

And that's how John found him, sitting dejected on the bed, a letter balanced on his knees, staring blankly at a wall. 

"Alright, whats wrong with you then?" He enquired, standing in front of the younger Man.

"Nothin'"Paul muttered.

"Then why're you sittin' there sookin'?"

Paul sighed and handed John the letter, not having it in him to fight.

John held the thick paper close to his face before giving up trying to read the messy scribbles through squinted eyed and fetched his glasses, perching them on his sharp nose.

"I don't see why you're bloody upset! Mary girl said her first word, you should be over the moon love." John exclaimed as he handed to letter back over to the morose Paul.

"But I missed it John! I'm suppose to be there for that stuff. I want to be there for that stuff." Paul moaned sadly. 

John was silent for a moment, at the best of times he wasn't great at comforting people, but in his sleep deprived and drug addled state he was truly dismal.