Page 168 - James Caan - The Real Deal

The Real Deal

to go grey. It made his appearance seem ten times worse to me
than it probably was. All my life he had got up before me and had
always shaved first thing. It’s funny how the little things make such
a big impact, but the sight of him with a white beard has stayed
with me ever since.
‘What are you doing here?’ My dad was obviously very excited
to see us, but confused that we had appeared unexpectedly. ‘How
did you get here?’
We hugged each other and we were all tearful, euphoria mixed
with exhaustion and relief.
‘We couldn’t sit there and wait. We had to come.’
He told us how he had been taken to desolate marshland and
been tied to a tree. Eventually he had been left alone and for an
entire day he’d rubbed the rope against the tree until it frayed. He
showed us his hands and the skin on his wrists was raw and I
noticed the blood on his torn shirt. Eventually he had been able to
snap the rope and ran until he reached a farm. The farmer called
the police and he was picked up and brought home.
‘I’m so glad you two are here,’ he said, ‘but you have to go now.
The kidnappers might come back.’
‘We’ve only just got here. I’m not leaving you. And if it’s not
safe for us, it’s even less safe for you. You can identify them.
You’re the one who should be leaving.’
There was a big debate: my father had been through enough and
didn’t want the kidnappers to drive him from his home, but to
protect our mum and the kids he accepted that going to Lahore
and staying with his family for a few weeks was probably a wise
precaution. Reluctantly, Adam and I got back on a plane and
headed for London.
It was such a weird experience: it was so intense, so bizarre, and
the fact that it was over so quickly made it almost unreal. I was
so focused on whether or not my father would live or die that I
didn’t have the capacity to take in much about the country of my

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