“Yeah, that’s what Ma says too. Then that woman Rachel came to the house and she asked Ma why I wasn’t in school and Ma said, ‘Ah, everyone deserves a day off now and again, don’t they, Jack?’ and then she messed up my hair. I thought Rachel was going to be mad with me but she said nothing. I think she’s a bit scared of Ma. Ma doesn’t like Rachel at all. I know she doesn’t because she never asks her if she wants a cup of tea when she comes in. And Ma says that you should always ask people if they would like a cup of tea when they visit your house. Ma calls her the ‘prissy one’ – ‘Oh, here comes the prissy one again,’ she says and she rolls her eyes and then I laugh. Rachel’s hair is all bouncy like she has loads of springs stuck onto her head and her face is a bit orange. Ma says she must be up half the night getting ready for work. She wears suits and high heels and the other day she was coming out of our door and she forgot we had a step and she fell down and knocked all her papers everywhere and I started laughing and Ma said that I shouldn’t laugh when someone falls because it’s not nice, but when Rachel was gone she laughed too and we both laughed so hard that Ma said that if she didn’t stop laughing some of her wee was going to come out so we had to stop. And then that made me laugh even more because I never heard of a ma wetting her knickers before, only little girls, and then I imagined if she couldn’t stop laughing and the whole kitchen was filled with wee and it turned into a river and burst through the door into the hall and went all the way down the street and everyone was covered in Ma’s wee! And then it would come in the door here and wet all your books and I’d be in a boat sailing on the wee river trying to tell you ‘Watch out, Conor, Ma’s wee is coming, run for your life!’” Jack starts laughing again.
“That’s some imagination you’ve got there.”
“That’s what Ma always says.” He grins. “Here, want to hear another joke?”
“Go for it.”
“Why are pirates grumpy?”
“I don’t know.”
“Because they arrrrrrrggh. Get it?”
Conor ruffles his hair. “I’d better make that sandwich, matey. Get it?”
Jack smiles. “Yeah, I was wondering when you were going to do it. I’m starving!”
“You’re always starving.”
“Can I read some more of Tom’s Midnight Garden. I’m on chapter fifteen now.”
“You’re a fast reader.”
“What happens when I finish the book?” He looks worried.
“I guess we’ll have to find you something else to read then, won’t we?”
“Ah, that’s okay then because I was afraid to read it too quickly and then I wouldn’t be able to come to your shop any more.”
“There’s always a book here for you, Jack.”
Jack smiles up at him before running over and sitting on the floor in his usual spot and Conor goes out the back and starts layering ham and cheese between slices of white bread. He used to eat brown himself because Leni said it was healthier for him but Jack doesn’t like brown so he buys white now.
That afternoon Rachel makes her way past walls graffitied with IRA slogans and a green strewn with plastic bags where fattened seagulls and big beady-eyed crows scavenge for food. She pulls up outside 9 St Dominic’s Terrace, the home of Jack White. She knows that Tina and Jack hate her visits. The tension is obvious but she tries to pretend that she doesn’t notice it.
She raps the knocker and waits for Tina to answer.
A pale-faced Tina pulls back the door and wordlessly lets her in. Rachel follows her down the laminated floor of the hallway, which smells like last night’s dinner, and into the small kitchen.
“How’re you doing this week, Tina?”
“Grand.”
“And where’s wee Jack?” She looks around the room with its cluttered worktops, where a two-litre bottle of Coke sits on the counter with the lid missing.
“He’s only a young fella – he has to be allowed go out and play with his friends sometimes.”
“Oh, I had hoped to have a chat with him today, but no worries,” Rachel says as breezily as she can. Her head is still thumping.
“You’ve a bit of lipstick on your teeth.”
“Do I? Oh, sorry . . .” She rubs her forefinger against her teeth. Is she imagining it or does Tina seem to be smirking? “Thanks,” she mumbles. “Right,” she says, taking out her notebook. “Would you mind if I ask you a few questions – I’ll keep it short.” Because she has worked with the family previously as Jack was identified as a vulnerable baby when he was born, she has been requested by the courts to prepare a Section 20 report to make a recommendation as to who she feels is the best choice to become Jack’s guardian after Tina passes away. She has to interview Tina about her preferences for Jack’s care but, because the woman is terminally ill, she has to do it in stages so as not to tire her out.
Tina sighs. “Well, this is all a waste of time – there’s no need for you – I’ve already told everyone me sister Libby is the best person.”
“I know you’re frustrated with the process, Tina, but I’m only doing as the judge ordered. It’s my job is to take all the information on board about Jack and the people in his life and make an impartial decision.”
“Well, let’s hope you make the right one then,” Tina says sharply, looking down at the floor.
Rachel knows that it must be hard for Tina to accept what is happening to her, that she won’t be around to see her son grow up, and having to discuss what happens to him after she dies.
“Okay, maybe today you can tell me some more about your relationship with Jack’s father John-Paul?”
“I’ve told you before, we were together on and off since I was fourteen. He gave me my first joint and then everything else. We were always breaking up and then he’d have managed to score a bit of gear and I couldn’t say no so we’d be back together again. Then I found out I was having Jack when I was twenty-three and that was it for me. I’d had enough of shooting up in squats, being out of it for days on end. I wanted things to be different for my baby so I got myself on a withdrawal programme but John-Paul didn’t and, Jesus, if it was bad enough listening to him when I was on the gear, it was ten times worse off it. Anyways we broke up for a while and then Jack was born and he was mad about him, he really was, so we gave it another go for Jack’s sake but he was still up to all sorts. One day I found a bag of gear in the buggy – imagine if Jack had picked it up and swallowed some? So I threw John-Paul out and he went off the rails. Then he came back when Jack was three and said he was off everything and I believed him and I took him back. We were grand for a while but, instead of doing drugs, he was drinking like a fish and he’s an angry man on the drink so I threw him out again and I’ve never looked back.” She sighs impatiently. “You know all of this anyway.”
“It’s been a long time since I last worked with you, Tina, and I need to make sure I have the facts right. Just to double-check with you – John-Paul never sought to become a guardian of Jack before?”
“No, thank God. He came up here the other day telling me I had to make him a guardian, that it was the law. He must think I’m awful thick but there’s no way I’ll be helping him to become Jack’s guardian. No way. You have to do everything, Rachel – everything that you can to stop that happening. John-Paul loves Jack, I know that, but he can barely take care of himself, let alone Jack. He says he’s off the gear but I don’t know and he lives in that pub – I’m surprised they don’t start charging him rent for his stool in there. But it’s his temper that scares me the most. I put up with it for long enough but Jack is soft – he wouldn’t be able for that at all. He’d lose his life. There is no way you can let him have him. Promise me, Rachel, you have to promise me that you won’t let him have him!” She leans forward and squeezes Rachel’s hand, pressing her fingers hard into hers until it hurts and her hand is left with white finger marks. “That’s the only thing I’m asking you – don’t let John-Paul get custody. You have to promise me, Rachel.”
“Just to be clear, Tina, I make a recommendation based on my interviews but please remember that at the end of the day the decision rests with the courts – I can only make a recommendation. Sometimes they take it on board, sometimes they don’t. I’m sorry but I can’t promise anything.”
“Well, there is no way – literally over my dead body – will I let John-Paul have custody of him.”
Rachel cringes at her ironic choice of words. “So what other people could I talk to, to get a feel for things?”
“I don’t know. Me da has Alzheimer’s – he’s in a home – me ma is dead and Jack’s other grandparents on his da’s side are dead too. I know you’ll be talking to Libby anyway. Did you try his teacher?”
“I did. I met with her earlier in the week and she spoke very highly of him. She said that he’s a very bright and capable little boy and a joy to have in the classroom.”
“Well, I don’t know where he gets it from – it’s not from me or his da.”
Rachel can tell she is being modest as there is pride on her face.
“Well, if what his teacher said is anything to go by, you have done a great job with him.”
“Thanks, Rachel.”
It is a rare moment of truce between the two women.
They fall silent until Rachel speaks again. “So have you told him yet?”
“No.”
Rachel thinks she can hear a wobble in Tina’s usually defensive tone.
“Not yet.”
“Okay, well, it might be an idea to start mentioning it to him soon, so he has time to get used to it. I need to be able to talk to him about what his preferences are but at the moment he isn’t even aware that you are terminally ill.”
“How is an eight-year-old ever going to get used to losing his mother?”
“I know you can never prepare a child for something like that but I think it would be for the best if he knew – just so it’s not a complete shock . . . y’know . . . when the time comes.”
“But that’s not fair on a young fella – sure how is he meant to decide something like that?”
“But you have to remember, Tina, if Jack also tells me that he doesn’t want to live with his father then it strengthens your case in court. The court put a lot of weight on the child’s testimony – it’s not like years ago where no-one consulted with the children in these cases – nowadays it’s all about listening to the child.”
“I see.”
“Talk to him, Tina – he needs to know, it’s the best way.”
“Right.”
“How are you feeling today?” Rachel asks, changing the subject. She knows that Tina is in quite a bit of pain – she can see it etched in the lines on her face. She tries to bear this in mind whenever Tina is proving difficult.
“Awful. The nurse was here earlier with some more tablets for me but they’re not worth a shite.”
“I’m sorry they’re no good,” she says sympathetically.
“Six weeks they reckon – six weeks is all I’ve left in this damn place.” She looks around the room.
“I’m so sorry, Tina – I truly am.”
“I did so many bad things when I was younger – drugs and drink – I’d be outta it for days on end – if there was ever a time I deserved to die that was it but then I got clean, you know? As soon as I knew about Jack growing inside me, I didn’t touch that stuff any more. That was it, Jack was my priority then.” She pauses. “Someone’s having a laugh somewhere.”
“It’s very cruel, I have to say. Life isn’t fair.”
“I just wish I could go knowing that he’s going to be okay, you know?”
“Well, that’s where I can help. I promise you I’ll do my very best for you and for him. It’s my job to find the next best guardian for Jack – after his mother of course.”
Tina nods.
“Okay, well, I’ll head on then. I’ve some things to catch up on in the office but I’ll be back next week to see how you’re getting on – you might try and have Jack here too, yeah?”
“I’ll do my best.” But she doesn’t sound very convincing.
“Talk to Jack, won’t you, Tina?”
“Watch yourself on the way out – we don’t want you tripping over that step again.”
When Rachel gets home that evening she is exhausted. Her visits to Tina White and the constant resistance that she is met with are taking their toll on her. She lets the weight of her body sink into the sofa.
Evening times are the worst. That’s the time when she feels the pain of Marcus’s absence from her life the most. She is so fed up with everything. It all feels so pointless and empty. After the break-up, she has been left with a huge void and she can’t tell anyone that this is how she is feeling. Her parents would only worry if she told them. She is sick of pretending that she is happy whenever she sees her friends at home in Antrim. They think she is living the glamorous lifestyle portrayed by Sex and the City. They regularly say they’re jealous of her husband-less, childfree lifestyle, being able to lie-in at weekends and go away at the drop of a hat. If she tells them she is going away for the weekend, they will reply with ‘You’ve a great life. Isn’t it well for you – easy knowing you’ve no kids’. They almost make her feel guilty about it. They think she is living the dream but it hurts her when they say that because she would trade places with any one of them in the morning. Shirley is the only person who knows about the break-up. She hasn’t been able to face telling anybody else yet. Even though she knows things are definitely over between them, the finality of that step seems almost too much to bear at this stage.
Chapter 31
Today Ella has an appointment with Celeste’s teacher after school. She’s going to do what Dan has told her do. She is determined to sort this out once and for all.
She has arranged for Andrea to come to the school with her to take the girls home and, after she sees them off, she takes a deep breath and pushes open the door to the classroom. She is dreading this. She feels her heart begin to start up again with that mixture of anxiousness and love that always comes with Celeste.
She walks towards the front of the classroom where Ms Woods is sitting at her desk, through low-level chairs and desks painted in glossy fire-engine-red paint. Handmade posters with multiplication tables line the walls. She looks around at the shelves heavy with toys and abacuses, artwork with cotton wool, the knitted teddies that they did last term. They brought them home for the parents to help stuff and sew them. She remembers the stuffing kept coming out through the holes as she tried to stitch it. She had failed so dismally that Mrs Frawley had to step in and save the day. As usual.
She has never met Ms Woods, Celeste’s teacher, before. She knows that she should have – she should have met her daughter’s teacher – but she had always sent Dan along to the parent-teacher meetings. Of course Mrs Frawley would have met her when she was bringing Celeste or collecting her from school. Ella is acutely aware of how uninvolved she has been in her daughter’s education before now.
Ms Woods is looking at her, ready and waiting for her to say something.
The familiar tightness starts in her chest and makes its way up her throat. She worries that the words won’t come out.
“I – I am Ella Wilde – Devlin – I’m Celeste’s mother.”
“I know who you are.” She pushes over a neat pile of copybooks to the right.
Of course she does, Ella thinks.
“Take a seat.”
Ella sits down on the hard plastic chair.
“What can I do for you?” Ms Woods pushes up her glasses onto the bridge of her nose.
“Well, it’s about Celeste . . .” Ella pauses. “I think she’s being excluded by some of the other girls –”
“And what makes you think that?”
“Well, there have been a few . . .” she pauses, searching for the right word, “incidents.”
“Incidents? Like what?”
“Well, she has said that some of the girls won’t play
with her at break times. And there is a birthday party on next week that she wasn’t invited to.”
“Now I’m sure you understand that I can’t interfere in who does and does not get invited to a birthday party. You can’t expect her to be invited to every party now, surely?”
“Of course not but I think it’s deliberate – I think that one set of parents in particular is excluding her on purpose . . . ”
“And why would they do that?”
“I . . . eh . . . I think it might be because of me actually . . . ”
“Oh, I see – you feel the other parents don’t want their daughters associating with Celeste because of . . . em . . . the incident . . . ?”
Ella nods and looks down at the vinyl floor covering.
“Well, to be honest from what you’ve told me today, it doesn’t sound like bullying to me – in fact, it sounds like perfectly normal behaviour for eight-year-old girls – one minute they’re best pals, the next they’re worst enemies – I have a class of twenty-eight of them so I should know!”
Ella feels stupid then, like she’s imagining a problem that doesn’t exist and is wasting this woman’s time. Yet again she feels frustration because she hasn’t been able to articulate what it is that she wants to say, except now she is letting Celeste down.
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