by K. L. Slater
‘When I saw you sitting there in the hairdresser’s, I knew I had to speak to you,’ Mavis said, owl-like behind her round metal-rimmed glasses. ‘What a whirlwind this must have all been for you. Tom getting out of prison at last and then you finding out he’d married Jesse’s mother.’
Her blunt manner would have probably annoyed me a few days ago, but now her candour was a relief from the sly looks and overly polite conversation I’d encountered from neighbours. As Tom’s ex-teacher, Mavis was someone who’d warned that Tom should be vigilant about blindly following Jesse’s often impulsive behaviour when they were younger. I still had doubts about an incident Tom took the rap for when they were fourteen. The idea that he’d forced Jesse to trespass in a local factory beggared belief. Somehow I’d managed to keep Robert from finding out about that.
I trusted her implicitly.
‘I’m not going to deny it was a shock, Mavis. They’d embarked on some justice programme that brings victims and perpetrators together. From what I can gather, after growing closer over time, they got married in prison without telling anyone.’
‘Shocking.’ Mavis frowned. ‘I take it Tom hasn’t fully explained it all to you?’
‘Sort of, but I’m not convinced. It doesn’t make sense to me.’ I sighed, not really knowing where to start. ‘Robert doesn’t want to talk about it. He doesn’t care, if I’m honest.’
‘I see,’ she said. ‘Well, I’m happy to listen.’
I shivered in the cool breeze and looked down at my feet as I considered this. Mavis certainly wasn’t known to gossip, her closest confidant was her little dog. It would be such a relief to discuss it with someone else, and she had always seemed to want the best for Tom. I had Audrey to talk to, of course, but Audrey seemed distracted at the moment.
‘This programme at the prison, it’s called restorative justice and it’s all about the victim’s family working together with the criminal to finally begin the healing process,’ I began.
Mavis said, ‘I would imagine that’s rather a tough process to go through for most people.’
‘Quite. But Tom and Bridget have both said it was during this time they grew close and fell in love. It delves deep, I think. Gets them talking about and working through their feelings.’
‘And who instigated this programme?’
‘The prison staff asked him if he’d be interested and Tom said he was. It all grew from there.’
‘Hmm,’ Mavis pondered. ‘May I ask what your thoughts are, Jill … about what happened that night in 2009?’
I paused a moment, surprised that she was referring back to the actual night of Jesse’s death. It was a while since anybody had.
‘Obviously I only know what Tom told me, and I believe that unreservedly,’ I said. ‘Jesse had been knocking back the drink and bad-mouthing the security team in Movers. Unsurprisingly, that got the boys thrown out of the club. Jesse was determined to try and get back inside and Tom tried to stop him. Jesse turned nasty and pulled a knife, so Tom did what anyone would do in that situation. He defended himself.’
‘He punched Jesse very hard,’ Mavis said carefully.
‘Yes, but it was just the one punch. Jesse slipped and fell and the rest is history, as they say. Tom didn’t know he would crack his head on the concrete.’
‘I read that the judge was particularly harsh in his sentencing because Tom was a boxer,’ Mavis remarked.
I nodded. ‘They consider a boxer’s hands to be lethal weapons, you see. Apparently, they always deliver a tough sentence.’
‘Did you appeal against the judge’s decision?’
‘Yes, of course, but we lost. Instead, I focused on Tom’s release, every hour of every day, and then he floors me with the news he’s got married in prison to Bridget bloody Wilson.’
‘Certainly, that must have been quite a blow,’ Mavis said kindly.
I’d been hoping that chatting to Mavis would somehow help me feel a bit brighter about the situation, but I felt lower than ever. Harry pressed against my legs, his furry body warm and comforting.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ I said. ‘I can’t really do anything at all, but I’m struggling to accept that. I keep thinking there must be something, because this whole thing seems so off.’
‘I’m a big believer in listening to your gut, Jill. Sometimes, when your gut says stay out of something rather than get involved, it’s not easy to do but it’s the best thing all round.’
I nodded, but it was much easier to say this sort of thing than actually do it.
‘My gut is doing the opposite,’ I told her. ‘It’s screaming at me to do something. Anything. I want to get involved in my son’s life while everyone else is telling me to back off.’
‘As I recall, Jesse had a girlfriend,’ Mavis said thoughtfully. ‘She was pregnant when Jesse died.’
‘That’s right,’ I said, surprised that she seemed to know so much. ‘Her name is Coral.’
‘And you’ve met her?’
‘Oh yes, we knew her back then, too. She used to hang around with the boys when they were younger. I saw her again a few days ago, at Bridget’s house. Understandably, she was a bit cautious, with me being Tom’s mother, but she made it clear she disapproves of the marriage too.’
Mavis nodded. ‘Would you like my advice?’
‘Of course.’ I reached down and scratched the back of Harry’s long neck. ‘You know I have a lot of respect for you, Mavis, and it helps to get the perspective of someone not directly involved.’
I expected her to tell me to get on with my life, to try to swallow my resentment and work at growing closer to Tom and Bridget. Instead, she said, ‘Speak to Coral. That’s my advice.’
I frowned. ‘Why Coral?’
‘Well, it seems to me that all the time Tom has been in prison, she’s been the person closest to Bridget because of their shared care of her son. Get a bit friendlier with her. You never know what she might tell you about the situation.’
Coral had made a comment at the dinner party that perhaps I should be scared of Bridget. She’d tried to deny she meant anything by it but I got the uncomfortable feeling there were things that had happened or were happening that I was completely unaware of. Things Coral didn’t want to talk to me about. She’d also made it clear she thought we’d never be friends because of me being Tom’s mother. But there was a lot of tension between Coral and Bridget, so maybe Mavis had a point and I should try again.
‘Thanks, Mavis,’ I said, standing up from the bench. ‘I appreciate the chat.’
‘Any time, dear.’ Mavis stayed seated, looking around her at the bodies rushing past, talking on phones, drinking coffee as they walked briskly by. ‘People always seem too busy to pass the time of day any more, but us invisible oldies … well, we see a lot more than people give us credit for.’
Thirty-Three
I drove across town to the budget restaurant I knew Coral worked at part-time. There was still fifteen minutes before the end of her shift. I managed to park in a spot on the road where I had sight of the restaurant door and also the alleyway that ran down the side of it in case she exited out of the back.
I took out my Kindle and read the same page repeatedly. I couldn’t focus on it for more than a few seconds. At last Coral sauntered out, absently scrolling through her phone as she walked. When she reached the corner, she stopped and leaned against the brick wall, then lit a cigarette and tapped at her phone.
I got out of the car and crossed the road, approaching her from the front so as not to creep her out by suddenly appearing from nowhere. Pungent spices filled the air as I got closer, and the noise of the traffic ebbed and flowed behind me. Coral wore the brown checked uniform of the restaurant chain, and had scraped her hair up into a bobble, revealing her natural dark roots against the harshness of the home-bleached blonde. With her face devoid of make-up, she looked pale and tired. When she looked up and saw me, her hand jerked in surprise and the long funnel of ash at the end of her cigare
tte fell to the floor, disintegrating on the pavement between us.
‘Hi, Coral, sorry to startle you.’ My friendly smile was not returned. ‘I wondered if you had time for a quick chat?’
‘What’s all this about?’ Nervously she looked up and down the street. ‘Has Tom sent you … or Bridget?’
It was a strange thing to say.
‘No, of course not,’ I said and pointed to a small café across the street. ‘Fancy a coffee? Gets us away from prying eyes out here.’
She took another drag of her cigarette and studied me carefully. I imagined the thoughts clicking methodically through her mind. Should she trust me? What exactly did I want to talk about?
‘I haven’t got long,’ she said, stubbing out the cigarette on the wall and tossing it into a nearby bin. ‘I have to go into school to see Ellis’s class teacher at three thirty.’
‘That’s fine,’ I said, relieved she hadn’t told me to get lost.
The café was dim inside, with dark walls and orange globe lights that hung on long pendant chains over the tables. It was only about half full, so there were plenty of spare seats.
‘A latte OK for you?’
She nodded, and I ordered at the counter, leaving Coral to grab us a table. She chose one well set back from the door, and sat staring at her phone.
I came back with the coffees and placed them on the table. She’d put her phone away, looking thoughtfully towards the window.
‘It feels weird, sitting in here with you,’ she said without looking at me. ‘Really weird. It feels all wrong.’
I pressed my lips together. ‘As Tom’s mother, I do understand we’re never going to be best friends, Coral. But I’d like to think we can be civil to each other now that Tom and Bridget are married. We can’t fail to see more of each other, so we might as well try and get on.’
‘Do you know?’ she suddenly demanded, the little colour she had draining out of her cheeks. She looked as if she wanted to be sick but was forcing herself to be brave. ‘Has Tom told you?’
I frowned. ‘Told me what?’
She hesitated, seeming to backtrack. ‘About why they got married. I mean, did he warn you?’
‘No, he didn’t. I’d have tried to stop it happening.’ Her face softened slightly. I wanted to win her confidence, so it was important to show her some honesty. ‘I was devastated, Coral. I still am. It’s been a terrible shock.’
‘That makes two of us. Ellis is really suffering.’
‘It’s natural he’ll be upset.’
Using a long teaspoon, she scooped some foam from the top of her latte directly into her mouth. ‘The head teacher rang me to talk about Ellis’s behaviour at school. That’s why I’ve got to go in.’
‘I’m so sorry it’s affecting him badly,’ I said evenly. Jesse always used to be in some kind of trouble at school. Sometimes Tom was dragged into it by default simply by being present when Jesse decided he didn’t like the look of someone’s face or reacted to a teacher telling him to stop doing something. Mavis Threadgold had alerted me to what was happening early on. I’d spoken to Bridget about it, but of course it had fallen on deaf ears.
Coral put down her spoon and dabbed at her mouth with one of the tiny square paper napkins that came with our drinks. ‘What was it you wanted to talk to me about, Jill?’
I was surprised at her forthright manner. Away from Bridget’s domineering nature, she had a quiet confidence about her.
I tapped the side of my latte glass with a fingernail. Coral was no fool and I knew I had to tell her the truth about my feelings. ‘I don’t know if you’re aware that Bridget and I used to be best friends. We raised our boys together, but after what happened and so many years passing, I feel like I don’t know her any more.’
Coral made a conciliatory noise as though she knew how that felt. ‘But what’s that got to do with me?’
‘Well, without putting too fine a point on it, you know her far better than I do now. Speaking to you as a mother, Coral, I’m asking you to put aside your feelings about the night Jesse died, for a few minutes.’
‘If only it were that easy,’ she muttered.
‘It’s a big ask, I know,’ I said. ‘I wanted to speak to you confidentially about Bridget.’ For all I knew, she would leave here and go straight back to Bridget, tell her everything I’d said. But, as Mavis had suggested, I went with my gut feeling that any loyalty Coral had once possessed had dissolved when Bridget secretly married Tom. ‘I wondered what your thoughts were on the two of them marrying. On whether Bridget is … serious, for want of a better word.’
‘You’re asking me if she’s got a hidden agenda,’ Coral stated simply.
I hesitated before replying. If it got back to Bridget that I’d been asking these kinds of questions about her, it might destroy any chance I had of staying close to Tom. Like it or not, I knew she had the greater influence on him at the moment. But if I wanted to get to the truth, there really was no sense in me holding back. ‘Yes, that’s what I want to know. I won’t repeat anything you tell me and I hope you’ll do the same. I’m asking for you to help me understand, I feel you’re the only person who can.’
Coral cradled her cup in both hands and stared down into her drink. ‘I’ll be totally straight with you, Jill. Bridget has been really good to me. I know it’s only because she wants Ellis in her life. Although I wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of hearing me say this, she stopped me sliding too far down after Jesse’s death. I often suspected he cheated on me, but his death hit me hard. I dread to think where I might have ended up without Bridget.’
‘You must be very grateful for that,’ I said. Despite her saying such positive things, I felt there might be a ‘but’ coming.
‘But there’s been a price to pay. Bridget never lets me forget it.’ Coral bit her lip. ‘There are things that have happened that you’re not aware of. You seem like a nice person, and what Tom did that night is no reflection on you. Nothing that’s happened is your fault, and I certainly don’t blame you. It’s never going to be possible for us to be friends, but as a mother, I want to say I do understand you’re worried for your son. Whatever Ellis does, I’ll always be there for him and hope to protect him.’
She drained her coffee and I felt desperate to keep her there.
‘When you say there are things I’m unaware of, do you mean things Bridget has done?’
‘Sorry, I can’t talk about it, but you’re better off not knowing.’ She stood up. ‘I don’t know why Bridget married Tom. She didn’t confide in me before doing so and it was as much of a shock to me as it was for you.’ I felt my face fall and she hesitated. ‘Maybe you’re looking at the motives of the wrong person.’
I frowned. ‘Who else is there but Bridget?’
‘Tom has made his choices too, Jill,’ she said gently. ‘You shouldn’t forget that.’
Thirty-Four
When Coral had left the café, I ordered another coffee and sat thinking for a while.
Everything in my life had changed. Robert’s workload had increased so that he was regularly getting home too late for us to eat dinner together. He was avoiding any opportunity to talk about Tom and Bridget.
I’d informed the estate agent Tom was no longer interested in the flat, and I rejected the temporary job offer on his behalf.
I was so exhausted when I got into bed at night, I’d fall straight asleep even without reading a few pages of my book. But around 2 a.m., I’d spring awake and the relentless thinking would start. Old memories resurfacing.
When Tom was still a baby, we very nearly lost him. For the first three months of his life he was a healthy, bouncing child. He slept like a dream and had a happy, smiling countenance when he was awake. Everyone commented what a pleasant little soul he was and we loved to watch him playing boisterously with his toys. Then he started waking several times during the night and he’d be hard to wake up in the morning. He went off his food and lost some weight. He stopped playing with his toys.
The health visitor reassured me. ‘Babies often go through these stages during their first year,’ she said. ‘Keep an eye on him over the next week or two, and if you still have concerns, pop him down to your GP. Just to be on the safe side.’
Tom’s condition continued to deteriorate. He turned a strange colour, his rosy cheeks and creamy complexion disappeared overnight. He ate very little, slept lots during the day and became listless and quiet when he was awake.
We took him to the local surgery and the doctor told us exactly the same thing as the health visitor. It felt like a cop-out.
‘I want him checked out,’ I remember saying calmly but firmly. ‘I’d like a second opinion.’
The GP was visibly annoyed and Robert squirmed, but I refused to budge. ‘I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him. I want him thoroughly checked out. Something’s not right. I feel it,’ I said.
‘You feel it?’ the doctor repeated in a patronising tone, the corners of his mouth twitching.
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I feel it.’
And so it began. Days of travelling to and from the hospital. Each time, they’d tell us nothing was wrong, that Tom was ‘one of those sickly children’ but that he’d grow out of it.
‘It’s time to put a stop to this, Jill,’ Robert said after the fourth day. He sat me down, looked at me like you might do to a kind aunt who you suspected was turning a bit batty. ‘It’s not fair of us to keep dragging Tom to hospital only for him to be poked and prodded and then discharged again. You’ve got to accept this is just the way he is. You heard what the doctor said.’
But when I looked into my baby’s dull, pleading eyes, I knew. I just knew.
‘I’ll take him back on my own if you don’t want to come,’ I said. ‘This time, I’m not leaving the hospital until they find out what’s going on.’
To give Robert his due, he stuck with it, and the next day, after a terrifying dash to the hospital in the middle of the night, we finally got an answer that made sense.