The hoodies – minus their hoodies – are also here looking fresh-faced and glowing with pride. They’ve all got their mums and dads in tow and it’s nice to see them all together. Ted, Brian and Jim, the old boys from the allotments, are here sporting neatly knotted ties and their best jackets. Debs is tarted up to the nines for the occasion, but she looks desperate to slip out and have a ciggie already. I’m amazed that she managed to last the full length of the project, as gardening – or manual labour in any form, come to think of it – is not her forte. But she’s been there for me, as always. I smile across at her and she catches my glance and then makes ‘get on with it’ motions with her hands, which makes me smile more.
Just behind me there’s Johnny and his new love Dana Barnes with her colleague, Richard Selley. Johnny seems to have grown in stature since this whole art thing kicked off. He’s holding himself that bit straighter, his chin higher, he’s walking taller. His hair is nowhere near as messy as it usually is. He came in holding Dana’s hand and looking like a man who’d found the meaning of contentment and I’m trying not to feel too weird about that.
The only face that’s missing is Spencer’s, and I feel that little bit lonelier inside without him here by my side. He’s been back home in Surrey for a few weeks now and I’ve heard absolutely nothing from him – no texts, no emails, no late-night phone calls. And, call me fickle, but part of me wishes that he’d called me every day begging me to reconsider just so that I could talk to him.
We applaud again as a project for adult learners picks up an award. Then it’s our turn. The award for the regeneration project that has most affected its community is about to be announced. Charlie slips his hand in mine, making sure that Kyle can’t see it and I give it a squeeze.
The presenter is the woman who normally does the afternoon show on Radio Liverpool, Tina Murby. In her radio presenter’s voice, she reads out the nominees. We’re up against a primary school in Everton Valley that’s installed an eco-friendly wildlife area in a corner of its playground, and an old rundown pub in Toxteth that’s been transformed into a vibrant youth centre. But I take none of it in until it comes to our name.
‘The All You Need Is Love project was funded by Urban Paradise and concentrated on regenerating the Kirberly housing estate, creating a new garden area, safer, upgraded play facilities and repair and redecoration of the Community Centre,’ Tina says. ‘Murals featuring the residents have been painted both inside and on the outside of the Centre by esteemed local artist, Johnny Jones. The scale of the project and the involvement of all members of the community over all age groups particularly impressed the judges.’ She takes a deep breath and beams at the audience. ‘Therefore, I’m delighted to present the award to Sally Freeman whose vision brought this about and who has spearheaded the project.’
My friends and neighbours go wild, clapping and cheering. I sit there, mouth agape.
‘Mum,’ Charlie whispers in my ear as he nudges me. ‘You’ve got to go to the front and get it.’
Somehow I manage to stand on unsteady legs. We’ve done it. We’ve won. We’ve bloody well won!
Turning, I see Johnny who’s grinning and clapping. I fight the urge to grab him and hug him. He and I have done this together. Apart from producing my dear son, this is the biggest achievement of my life. I think there are tears in his eyes as there are in mine.
I go to the front and Tina Murby hands me the award. I’m shaking as I accept it. Holding up the glass plaque, I find my voice and say, ‘I couldn’t have done this without you. Your enthusiasm and hard work have carried this through. And now we live in a great place, the sort of place that we deserve. So this is for us. For all of us. And it’s for me.’
Then I punch the air as all good Superheroes do.
Chapter One Hundered and Twelve
‘Look at the pair of us,’ Johnny says as we stand by the buffet.
‘What a couple of swells.’
I laugh. ‘I know. I can hardly believe it.’
Around us, our friends and neighbours fill their plates with sausage rolls, spicy samosas and spring rolls – except Debs who has cleared off outside to have a smoke and a swig of the vodka that she’s got in her handbag.
The hall is filled with excited chatter as the award winners and their entourages celebrate their victories. I’m clutching my plaque to my chest, already wondering where I can put it in the flat so that it takes pride of place.
‘You deserve it,’ Johnny adds.
‘We deserve it,’ I correct. ‘You know that this is yours as much as it is mine.’
‘I’ve had enough adoration over the past few weeks to last me a lifetime.’
‘Yeah. Maybe it is my turn,’ I tease.
‘Dana says that you’re looking to start a new business.’
‘It was sort of her idea,’ I admit. She might have nicked my old boyfriend, but I do have a lot to thank her for. ‘I’m just putting my ideas together, formulating a cunning plan.’
‘I hope it goes well,’ Johnny tells me.
‘What about you?’
‘I got the commission for a mural on the new stadium and there are more coming in practically every day.’ He looks like he can’t quite believe his luck.
‘You’re in demand. As you should be.’
Johnny nods. ‘Life will be very different from now on.’
‘I’m really pleased for you.’
‘We could have had this together,’ he points out.
‘And now you’re with Dana,’ I remind him. ‘And you’re happy.’
Our eyes meet. Johnny lowers his voice. ‘That doesn’t stop me from wanting to hold you or telling you that you look fabulous today.’
Debs had persuaded me to indulge in another Kirberly market purchase that I don’t have the money for. Looks like it was worth it. ‘Thanks, Johnny.’
‘I’m so proud of you, Sally Freeman.’
‘I’m proud of myself.’
Then, throwing caution to the wind, Johnny takes me in his arms and we hug each other tightly. As always, it feels so good. Why is it that whenever I’m with this man I feel more myself than I do when I’m alone?
Charlie bowls up with a plate loaded with all kinds of things that he’s not normally allowed.
‘This is great, Mum,’ he says, already turning hyper and that’s before he’s had the red-and-white cake. My son’s going to be bouncing off the walls come bedtime. ‘I’ve never won anything before.’
‘You’ve been fantastic,’ I tell him. Taking his plate, I put it down and then I pull him into our hug. Johnny ruffles his hair and my son glows as he says, ‘You’re a top kid.’
‘The only thing that would make it better,’ Charlie says with a wistful sigh, ‘is if we could all be a family again.’
Johnny and I exchange a regretful glance over his head. It looks like that’s one area where my son will be disappointed.
Chapter One Hundred and Thirteen
I’ve had two letters today. One from Spencer and one from the Council. I don’t know which to tell you about first.
I’m sitting in the garden behind Bill Shankly House with both of them open on the bench next to me. I’ve been into the shed and have made myself a cup of tea, which I’m now nursing to me. All the digestives have gone and I’ll need to go to Save-It later to get some more as I can’t have my outdoor ladies’ club going without. I’m going over to get Johnny’s mum in a little while and then collect Mrs Kapur from her appointment with the chiropodist and bring them both back here. If the weather holds we might even have some sandwiches out here for our lunch.
The temperatures are cooler now as it’s slowly chilling down towards winter, but it’s still pleasant enough to sit out in the middle of the day if they keep their coats on. The ladies have decided that they want to continue meeting every day and will adjourn to the Community Centre when the weather becomes too cold. But they’ll all be back out here as soon as they can next spring, I’m sure of it.
I need
to water the plants later and do just a bit of tidying up. I’ve put some bird-feeders out and have filled them with nuts. Blue tits and brightly coloured finches of some sort twitter round competing for the food and it’s the first time I’ve seen birds, other than a few scraggy sparrows, round here in a long while. Perhaps that’s also why Mrs Kapur’s cat, Gandhi, is spending so much time out here.
I pick up the letters again. I’m not sure which is the most shocking. Letter number one is from the Council.
Dear Ms Freeman, it starts. Then it goes on to lots of formal blah, blah, blah. But this is the gist. Due to our success with the regeneration project, William Shankly House has been earmarked for a complete renovation starting in six months’ time. All the residents of said crumbling highrise block are going to be getting new kitchens, new bathrooms and new electrics. All the leaking radiators will be replaced and posh new double-glazed windows will keep out the cold. The block itself will be completely revamped. The rust- and rain-streaked pebbledash is going to be given a new coat of paint and the faded, peeling boards underneath our windows will be replaced with smart hardwood panels. We’re also going to have a new front door and secure entry system. Wonder if we can manage to wangle Mrs Kapur a move to a flat on the ground floor as well? The other highrise blocks are going to be given similarly grand and much-needed makeovers too. All the council houses are being upgraded – which means that Johnny’s mum’s home will be on the list for a makeover. She’ll like that – even though her son could probably buy the place ten times over now. The rows of grey, dilapidated pre-fabs are going to be knocked flat, and smart new homes put up in their place. Kirberly’s going to look like flipping Mayfair!
What do you make of that? I can hardly believe our luck. Finally, I’m going to have a home that I can be proud of too. I just wanted to lie down and blub with joy when I read it.
The next letter is just as unexpected. It’s the first time that I’ve seen Spencer’s handwriting and I let my fingers trace the fine script, the elegantly penned words.
My darling Sally,
I’m settled back at Alderstone House now and, needless to say, am missing you desperately. There’ll always be a void in my life without you and a sorrowful regret for the chance that I missed. However, you’ve made your decision and I know that you won’t be swayed, no matter what I say. I’ll always be here for you should you ever need me. All you have to do is call. To prove my commitment to your future happiness, I’ve enclosed a cheque to help you get your new business off the ground. If you can’t accept the money as a gift – and I do hope that you will – then please view it as a long-term loan.
Wishing you every success and much happiness in your future. Give my love to Charlie.
You’re always in my heart. Spencer xx
How can I read that without wanting to cry? I take the cheque out of the envelope and study it once more. Spencer has sent me a hundred thousand pounds. That will start my business, employ a dozen disadvantaged kids and make a lot of disabled people very happy. I will keep the money and I’ll make sure that Spencer gets an excellent return on his investment. That may not be in cold, hard cash, but I’ll try to make his money work really hard for him in improving the lives of people who need it most.
I fold the letters and slip them into my jeans pocket, just as the garden gate opens and Johnny comes in.
‘Is there enough tea in the pot for two?’
‘We don’t have anything as glamorous as a pot,’ I tell him. ‘But I can whizz a tea bag about in a mug for you.’
‘Sit there,’ he says. ‘You look a bit weary.’ He chucks me under the chin. ‘I’ll make it myself.’
He disappears into the shed while I continue to contemplate my good fortune. Minutes later, he reappears bearing a mug of tea. My ex sits down beside me and we’re silent in the sunshine.
‘I’ve had a funny morning,’ I say after a while.
‘It’s not eleven o’clock yet.’
‘Still,’ I say, ‘it’s been very funny.’ Johnny waits while I form my news into sentences in my brain, still not quite believing them. ‘The Council are going to do up Bill Shankly House and Spencer’s sent me a whacking great cheque to start my business.’
‘That sounds funny in a good way,’ Johnny notes.
‘Yeah,’ I agree. ‘But funny nevertheless.’
‘Do you think you can cope with one more piece of news?’
‘Is it good?’
‘Depends where you’re standing, I think.’ He stares out over the garden and now it’s my turn to wait. ‘Dana and I have split up.’
‘Oh.’ That’s not what I expected. ‘I thought you were in love with her.’
Johnny shrugs. ‘She’s a wonderful woman,’ he says, as he fiddles with the handle of his mug. ‘But she’s just not you.’
I don’t know what to say to that. So I say nothing.
‘I love you, Sal.’ My best friend reaches for my hand and tucks it into his. ‘What Charlie said the other day, about everything being perfect if we could be a family . . .’ Johnny turns to me. ‘Well, I kind of agree with him.’
Hot tears spring fresh to my eyes and I find my voice again, ‘Me too.’
‘Let’s make your son a happy kid then.’
A tear rolls down my cheek. ‘Okay.’
Johnny slips his arm round my shoulders and pulls me into him. ‘So now what do we do?’
‘You could move your stuff back into the flat,’ I tell him.
‘We could buy a big house now,’ he says. ‘Move away from here as you’ve always wanted to. Have a fresh start. We could go somewhere posh. Formby, Southport, Ormskirk. Wherever you like.’
‘What about your mum?’
‘We could get a place with a little annexe. Take Mam with us.’
I think of how Mary has thrived now that she has this little garden to come to and her new circle of friends. I think of how much Charlie loves it here and how all that it will take to keep him happy is a 15-inch LCD telly and having Johnny back in his life. I think of how proud I am for turning this place around and making it somewhere fit to live for me and my boy. I think that every day I can look out of my soon-to-be newly renovated flat and see Johnny’s murals brightening up the Community Centre, brightening up my life. I might even get him to paint my name back on my own banner, which still has a vacant space.
‘Let’s not rush into things,’ I suggest. ‘We’ll stay here for a little while longer.’
Johnny smiles at me and I lean into him, putting my head against his chest and curling my feet up on the bench. We snuggle up together. There’s birdsong on the air. The flowers turn their faces to catch the sun.
There’s a comfort in the fact that I now know that I’m going to be here to see this perfect little space bloom and grow. I hope that the garden and I continue to flourish together. I hope that Johnny, Charlie and I will have a long and happy life as a family. And that Sally Freeman, Single Mum and Superwoman, will one day soon become a content, successful and married Superhero.
~ The End ~
If you enjoyed All You Need is Love, you don’t have to wait for more!
Read on for a preview of Carole Matthews’:
The Cake Shop in the Garden
Chapter One
I sit on the edge of my mum’s bed and take a deep breath. ‘I’ve booked you in for a week’s respite care,’ I tell her.
She stares at me, aghast. ‘But I don’t want you to have any respite from me.’
‘Things are quite difficult at the moment, Mum. You know how it is. The year’s marching on and I need some time to get the café ready for the season.’
She folds her arms across her chest, unconvinced.
I’ve already brought her a cup of tea and a slice of the new coffee cake that I’m trying out, in the hope of softening her up, but my dear mother has turned up her nose at them.
‘I’m not leaving here.’ Mum’s chin juts defiantly. ‘No way, lady.’
For someone who is su
pposed to be an invalid, my mother has the strongest constitution and will of anyone I’ve ever met. I knew even as I was making the booking that it was overly optimistic. Even a cake fresh from the oven won’t warm my mother’s heart.
‘There are loads of things I need to do, Mum. I could just do with a couple of days. That’s all.’ A couple of days without her banging on the ceiling every five minutes, wanting this or that or something and nothing. She has a walking stick by the bed especially for the purpose.
My family have been blessed enough to be able to live in a beautiful home alongside the Grand Union Canal since my parents, Miranda and Victor Merryweather, were first married. Both my sister, Edie, and I were born and brought up here. One of us is more pleased about it than the other. The house is in the pretty village of Whittan, at one time on the outskirts of Milton Keynes, but now being nudged in the ribs by the thrusting city as it engulfs everything in its path.
When I became Mum’s full-time carer, I gave up my paid job and, out of necessity, started a small cake shop cum café and tearoom – Fay’s Cakes I’d already started selling cakes from our dilapidated narrowboat, the Maid of Merryweather, which is moored at the bottom of the garden. It was a sort of hobby, I suppose, a bit of an ad hoc affair, but it gave me something to do with all the cakes and jam that I so liked to make. Now I run it full-time and it’s grown to take over the dining room, veranda and garden of our house. The only problem with running a business that’s based in our home is that half of my days disappear with me running up and down the stairs fetching and carrying for Mum while trying to keep things going with the café downstairs. Not that I really mind . . . it’s just that sometimes I do need a break from my caring duties so that I can concentrate on actually bringing in some much-needed money.
All You Need is Love Page 35