Be Careful What You Wish For: Three women, three men, three deaths (Kitty Thomas)

by Sue Nicholls

An hour later she gives up trying to sleep and puts on clean clothes. 6am finds her back at the restaurant. It is still dark but there is some traffic. The curtains of the restaurant are drawn, and the inside is dark as she opens the door. Her hand goes automatically to the light switch – an instant before she smells gas.

  Chapter 38

  Twitch opens her eyes wondering what woke her. Outside, only the chattering of sparrows and the toot of a distant train break the silence. The clock says 6am, half an hour before the alarm is set to go off.

  The bedroom handle moves downwards, and the door opens a short distance. Two tousled heads peep through the gap, and when they meet Twitch’s eyes, their bodies follow. ‘We heard a big bang, and we were scared.’ Olivia's brown head nods as if to prove the truth of her statement.

  Twitch sits up in bed. ‘I think I heard it too, it must have woken me up, but I’m sure there’s nothing to be scared about. Let’s have a look.’ She swings her legs out of bed and slips across the room to pull back the curtains. It is a fine morning, and she puts her face to the pane. From here the roof tops of Chelterton’s small town centre can be seen in the middle distance. The church spire at the brow of the High Street, pokes into the early morning sky, but it is not this to which her eyes are drawn. She grips her right pyjama sleeve in her fist and wipes the glass with the heel of her hand to clear her breath. A pillar of smoke is pouring from somewhere around the church. As if to confirm this, they hear sirens, their Doppler-distorted cries howling as they fly past the top of Crispin Road.

  Twitch sends the children to get ready for school. Luke and Olivia are usually at Mick’s on a Friday, but he has swapped to Saturday this weekend, so they have a houseful.

  Still in her pyjamas Twitch pads along the landing to Millie’s room and knocks quietly. All is silence within, so after knocking again she opens the door. The room is empty. The bed looks as if it has been slept in, but Millie must have gone in to work early.

  She pops her head round the girls’ door to check they are doing as directed then taps quietly on Fee’s door. Fee’s breezy shout invites her in. Her alarm went off ages ago and she is showered and dressed and hunched over her chest of drawers applying mascara in front of a small mirror. Kitty is curled in a ball, her eyes still shut tight despite the disturbance going on around her.

  Fee heard no noise at 6am - she was probably in the shower. She drops the mascara, adds shoes to her ensemble and runs downstairs to her car. As she reverses from the drive, she lowers the window, ‘I’ll call you,’ she hisses across the early morning garden, and Twitch, standing at the door with her dressing gown clasped around her body, nods.

  When Fee has gone, Twitch shuts out the chilly morning air and goes into the kitchen to make a mug of tea. Her feet slap lightly on the bare floor. The routine of adding tea bags and getting milk from the fridge provides a distraction.

  While the water is still roaring, the telephone rings.

  ‘It’s me.’ There is a silence on the line that tells Twitch all she needs to know.

  ‘Oh God! What’s happened to Millie?’ She presses her palm to her mouth as she listens.

  ‘I don’t know. I’m up the road because there are fire engines outside, but it doesn't look good. The roof of the restaurant’s completely gone, and all the windows are smashed.’ Fee's voice wavers. ‘What if she was in there?’

  The children are pounding down the stairs.

  Twitch whispers quickly, ‘Fee, what are we going to say to the children?’

  ‘There's nothing to tell them - yet.’

  ‘I'll send them to school then.’ Twitch slams down the phone and organises her face.

  ***

  It is midday before Fee pulls onto the drive. Twitch, who was sitting in the lounge, staring at nothing, dashes to the front door and watches Fee tumble from the driver's door. ‘She was in there.’ Tears cascade from Fee’s eyes. ‘She's dead, Twitch! I went to the police station and they told me there was a gas explosion. She didn't have a chance.’

  The two women cling to each other in the middle of the hall and weep, rocking their bodies and clutching one another like shipwreck victims.

  ***

  Mick’s knees buckle and he drops to the floor in front of the kitchen pass. It is the middle of lunch service and around him the crash of the sous chefs and serving staff comes gradually to silence as he clamps both arms silently round his knees, still clasping his phone. A hand touches his shoulder, and he flinches.

  ‘Mick. Mick. What’s happened?’ Waitress, Mary, eases the phone from his hand. As she draws him out of the room, the kitchen accelerates back to life, pressure of orders taking priority over personal tragedy.

  In the staff room Mick squeezes his body between the wooden arms of a low chair, and with his elbows resting on his knees, puts his head in his hands. Across the room the kettle splutters into life. Mary is making a cup of tea. She does not speak, and a minute or two later a mug emblazoned with the hotel name and rather overstated crest, appears on the table in front of him. He picks it up and gazes at its revolving tan-coloured surface and the small bubbles that cling to the mug’s glazed sides.

  Mary sits opposite him.

  The sounds of service filter into the room, and Mick takes a sip of his tea. When he raises his head, he meets Mary’s kindly eyes. ‘It’s Millie.’ He can hardly say the words. ‘She’s been in a terrible accident.’ He weeps as he tells her what he knows, and she leans forward, covering his hands with her own, letting him cry for a while before raising the subject of his children.

  The children. He has not thought of the children. Mick springs from the chair and blinks at his watch, shouting, ‘When do they come out of school?’ then runs at the doorlike a confused bullock. ‘How am I going to tell them. God help me!’

  ‘Any time you need to …’ Mary begins, but he is gone.

  ***

  The school is scruffy but very alive. In the foyer, his children wait, puzzled. He looks at the receptionist and her eyes well with tears. His own are now dry and sore.

  As they walk towards the car, the children cling to his legs as though sensing trouble. Gently he disengages them, and holding one in each hand, tries to prepare them. ‘Something bad has happened.’ The small faces look up with wide eyes and half-open mouths, and Mick wishes his mother were here.

  He lets them into the car and climbs into the back seat after them. The three sit scrunched together, Mick’s knees filling most of the foot well. He puts an arm round each of them, pulling them close. When the words have been spoken, Lucas bursts into frightened tears but Olivia pulls out of his grasp and stares in disbelief. ‘She can’t be dead. I kissed her goodbye after breakfast.’ She shakes her head. ‘No. Not this morning, she wasn’t there this morning…’

  Mick is unable to find more words, so he watches as his daughter turns away and stares out of the car window. After a long time, she begins to sniff, then she yelps like a puppy in pain and throws herself onto Mick. They cling in a bundle, and the children’s tears soak Mick’s chest and shoulder as he glares at the roof lining.

  After a while, the pavement outside begins to fill with parents: whispering, serious, darting looks at the family in the car. Mick disengages arms and persuades the children into their seat belts. No booster seats, how could he have forgotten? Millie would have remembered.

  He wishes it were possible to manoeuvre his bulk into the front of the car without getting out, but he has to step into the road to duck through the driver’s door. Twitch watches from the perimeter of a growing crowd of parents. Earlier, after more weeping, Mick, Fee and Twitch decided that Lucas and Olivia should come to the house but stay upstairs with Mick until the other children have been told. After that they'll play things by ear.

  Mick makes a three-point turn and heads for Crispin Road.

  Chapter 39

  Lucas and Olivia lean against Mick’s chest, their knees and heads touching, their legs dangling between his thighs. Lucas sucks his thumb and Ol
ivia alternately strokes her brother’s cheek and Mick’s hand, as it rests on her leg.

  Sitting beside them, Paul’s left arm is pressed against Mick’s muscular suit sleeve. Maurice, on Mick’s other side, hangs his head and hands between his knees and stares at the parquet floor.

  Coughs and shuffles disturb the relative peace of the church, and Paul screws his body round on the bone hard pew to study the mourners. There are some with Millie’s Mediterranean colouring, including Millie’s mother Mimi, sitting in the row behind. Paul twists further to meet her red eyes as she clenches a tissue in her manicured hand. Mimi reaches out to squeeze Mick’s shoulder, and Mick, his eyes staring ahead, tilts his head to press her fingers with his cheek.

  Gloria, Mick’s mother has put herself beside Mimi. She sits, spine erect, a black version of the Queen. Paul turns back. To his right is a lectern, and in the centre, a table. Above and around the table is a rail, from which hangs a muddy-red, open curtain.

  Kitty’s stage whisper reaches them from the back of the chapel, and Paul swivels again. Fee and Twitch are coming in with the other children, shushing and tiptoeing along the aisle. A chute of indecently cheery sunshine follows them through the heavy door, and blinks across four expressionless pall bearers, following, with shuffling gait. Millie’s coffin wallows on their mismatched shoulders.

  The women and children hurry to slide into the front row of seats on the opposite side of the aisle, and the casket perambulates towards the table. Paul leans forward to wave at Kitty, but she does not see him. She is watching the coffer being delivered, tipped like a ship on the tide, and her hand steals into Fee’s.

  The service is brief. A calm and sympathetic launching of their loved one into the next life (Paul wonders how much of Millie’s body is left to be launched), then after a pathetic rendition of The Lord is my Shepherd, the curtain shimmies into life and crawls smoothly along its rails, to the sound of electronic organ music. Damp eyed mourners file into the warm daylight, nodding subdued greetings as they recognise old friends and distant relatives. Flowers must be admired in the porch before the funeral-goers are directed by Paul and Maurice to a local hotel where they can imbibe some stiff comfort.

  ***

  Fee and Twitch sit at a table. Kneeling on a chair beside Fee, Kitty wields coloured pencils, her head bowed over the outlines of two hens and a cockerel in a cheap sugar-paper book. Josh is curled on Twitch’s lap, twisting his favourite strands of hair. Sam stares moodily at the ingress of people and kicks the table leg making their drinks wobble. The adults grab their wine glasses, and Kitty’s coloured pencil shoots across the outline of her picture. She lowers her eyebrows in silent reproach and clambers to the floor to continue her task on the wooden seat of her chair.

  Guests surge in and make for the teak and brass bar, then drift down the room, settling onto seats and standing in spaces.

  Along the wall to their left runs a table presenting a beige assortment of canapés. The murmuring guests clutch glasses of over-fruity wine and stuff mass-produced pastry into their mouths.

  Paul and Maurice stand beside the bar, still flanking Mick like two minders. Nearby Millie’s parents and Mick’s mother try to absorb a proportion of sympathy from well-meaning guests. Mick, wearing a bleak up-turn to his lips, greets and nods, shakes hands and hugs, while Lucas and Olivia press against his legs, offering shy smiles when adults bend at them.

  ‘Sam,’ Fee says, touching the boy’s arm, ‘look, there are Lucas and Olivia. Why don’t you go and see if they’re all right?’

  ‘Course they’re not all right.’ Sam scowls and kicks the table leg even harder. Twitch leans forward and presses her palm onto his knee.

  Fee perseveres. ‘That’s true but you could help them feel better.’

  Sam does not move. His hands form fists, and his toes swing close to the table leg, daring someone to scold him. Fee grips her glass and refrains from uttering the curt warning that hovers at her lips.

  Sam demands, ‘What’s going to happen after this? Will they come back and live with us, or go to Mick’s?’ There is a threat of tears, a constriction of the throat, behind the fury in Sam’s tone.

  ‘Well, there’s a lot to be sorted out. They’ll be going home with Mick tonight, but we’re not sure what will happen after that.’ Sam's head flies up, and Fee hurries on. ‘I hope they will. Mick still needs to work, and Crispin Road is Lucas and Olivia’s home now, but they're bound to want to stay with their dad for a while.' She gives him an understanding smile. 'We’ll have to wait and see.’

  The level of noise in the room rises as the alcohol does its work. Occasionally someone arrives at the table, offering condolences, smiling, apologising, awkward.

  At last the food on the side tables is rendered to crumbs. Last mourners leave with sympathy painted on their faces. Millie’s mother hugs Mick, and her father shakes his former son-in-law’s hand and administers a pat to his upper arm. Gloria links arms with her son. She is a tiny woman reaching only to his chest. She glares across the empty tables at Fee and Twitch.

  They get the message and rise, gathering the children and their belongings, and head towards Mick and his minders. Luc and Livvie watch their approach in dismal silence, cowering beside their father and Grandmother. Paul steps back as Twitch approaches and stares at his drink. He does not see Kitty lift her face to greet him then frown when he keeps his eyes averted. Kitty turns her attention to Lucas and Olivia and gives them both a cuddle and a loud kiss, but Sam hangs back and glowers.

  ‘How are you, Mick?’ Fee stretches across Gloria, to embrace him. Twitch follows suit, and Maurice puts his hands in his pockets, pursing his lips in a silent whistle.

  ‘I’ll cope.’ Mick drops his eyes to his children. ‘We’ll manage, won’t we, kids?’

  Gloria presses closer to her boy. ‘We’ll all manage together.’

  Twitch touches Mick’s arm. ‘Take your time and look after each other - we’re here whenever you need us. I’ll be at home if you’d like me to have the children - in fact, currently, we’re both there.’ She glances at Fee, who is on compassionate leave from work. Looking down at Lucas and Olivia, Twitch continues, ‘We’ll see you soon my darlings,’ and bends to hug them. They wrap their arms around her neck as if they might lose her too.

  ‘They’ll be fine,’ snaps Gloria.

  Twitch looks into Mick’s eyes. ‘When you’re ready to discuss the future, let us know. There’s no hurry. None.’

  Mick nods, then Maurice hurries to interrupt. ‘I think it’s time to go.’

  Fee is quick to respond. ‘Yes, of course; you’re right. We need to get these children home. Let us know if you’d like a contribution towards this.’ She sweeps her arm round the room taking in the bar and the food.

  ‘I can manage thank you.’ Mick frowns at her.

  Nothing they say is right, so they herd Sam and the others out of the door, leaving the men with Gloria, to settle up.

  Kitty looks back at Paul. He is still contemplating his drink.

  In the back of the car Sam’s feet keep up their angry drumming.

  Kitty has had enough. ‘Stop it Sam.’ Her own father ignored her today, and she does not understand why. It must have been something to do with Aunty Millie dying, but he should at least have looked at her. She thumps Sam on his leg. ‘You’re annoying us.’

  ‘Don’t care.’ Sam keeps on kicking the back of Fee’s seat.

  ‘It does make it difficult to concentrate, Sam.’ Fee’s tone is conciliatory.

  ‘I DON’T CARE.’ In a moment Sam is bawling; his tears undammed at last. Kitty and Josh wrap him in an embrace, and as they pull into the drive at Crispin Road Sam sobs, ‘Nothing’s ever going to be the same again.’

  How right he was.

  ***

  Back at the venue, Gloria, Mick and the children step out onto a wide pavement. There is light traffic on the road, so Mick takes the kerb side, holding Lucas by the hand. Gloria is on the inside of the pavement, and Oli
via trails along behind them.

  Gloria mutters, ‘That girl goes on hurtin’ people even when she’s dead. I knew she was trouble the first time I met her.’

  ‘Ma don’t be like that. I wouldn’t change anything, well, apart from this, he gestures behind him at the funeral venue with his free hand. Millie made her own decision to follow her dreams. We should all do that if we can.’ Mick releases Lucas’s hand for a moment to pat his mother gently on the back. 'Don't get yourself upset. We're going to be fine.' He glances down at Lucas, whose expression offers little hope, and grabs hold of him again. Behind them Olivia stares at the ground. ‘You OK Liv?’

  ‘Yeah,’ the little girl sighs.

  Gloria blurts, ‘Well I didn’t follow my dreams when your father died. I had a sense of responsibility.’

  ‘Please Mum, think of the children before you speak.’

  Every moment since the birth of her handsome son, Gloria has watched over him, doing what any mother would to protect him from hurt. The day he brought Millie home to meet her, she started to worry. ‘She’ll break your heart Son,’ she had warned, but Mick said she was being racist. Well, she wasn’t, she could just tell that Millie was going to run him a dance. She wished her husband had been alive, he would have been able to talk sense into their boy, then none of this would have happened.

  Gloria thinks back to her arrival in England, that dingy day when they set foot on the docks at Dover. No colour, everything was grey, and the weather chilled her bones. She wondered then what Albert had brought them to?

  ‘You remember when we first came here, to the UK?’

  ‘Vaguely.’

  Robert, Albert’s brother, suggested they come. Robert had a good job and said he could get one for Albert. Things were not good in Ghana, and Albert persuaded Gloria that the move would be best for three-year-old Mick. Albert was a good man, proud, and he wanted to work. He only had his family’s interests at heart.

  ‘You can live in a brick house with a kitchen and a bathroom and a garden, how about that?’