by Rebecca Shaw
‘Is he pleased with the result?’
‘I do believe he is.’
The kettle boiled, she made the coffee for the two of them and handed a mug to Viv. ‘I was very surprised, believe me.’
‘Well, he certainly looked terrific. If I was twenty years younger, I’d quite fancy him myself.’
‘Viv! Honestly! Though if you must know, Piers said all the ladies would be after him.’
‘He’s not wrong. I would have been in yesterday to catch up with you, but Sally and Bill are having money troubles and I had to go see them. Bill’s been put on a four day week and it simply isn’t enough money when they’ve two children to feed and clothe. I don’t know, children seem to be so expensive to bring up nowadays, so demanding, I blame TV giving them all ideas. I gave them a bit of a helping hand but there’s a limit for me as a widow.’
‘Of course there is. Be careful Viv, you could live another twenty-five, thirty-five years and you’ll need your money.’
‘You sound like the Grim Reaper, Myra! But enough of me. What I want to know is if you fancy trying some of what Graham’s been up to?’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, why not, maybe he’s telling you something. Maybe he’d like you to add a little sparkle like he’s done. Come on Myra, why ever not? Step right out of the box and do something spectacular so he gets a surprise when he comes home. Just like you had with him. What do you say? Haven’t you thought about that?’
Myra denied any such thoughts, but Viv had caught a glint in her eye.
‘I can tell you’ve been thinking about it. I mean, let’s be honest, how long have you had this checked skirt and bottle-green polo neck. They don’t even use that word now for green. Forest green, I reckon they’d call it. It’s the perfect excuse for a spot of shopping. Like Piers said, they’ll all be after him and he’s quite a catch in those new clothes. But I think you could give any woman a run for their money – if you just gave yourself a chance.’
After last night when she’d had that unexpected feeling of wanting Graham to sleep beside her Myra turned away blushing, She focussed instead on watching Little Pete scampering into his hutch out of the cold wind, just in case Viv read her mind.
‘I don’t mean you have to dress like a lady of the night or leap into bed with him tonight, you could just treat yourself a bit and see how it makes you feel.’ She grinned wickedly at Myra but Myra didn’t see her because she was still looking out at the garden.
‘Viv. Did you ever know Colin Bannister? From next door.’
‘Of course. Nice chap. Always very friendly unlike his dad, who can be a pig if he chooses. He’s had more than a few words with me about my boys playing football in the street when they were little. ‘How about them going to the park to play, there’s plenty of space there.’ I used to tell him they were too young to be playing in a park on their own. You should have heard him going on about lazy mothers. He was a nasty old man even then. She’s alright, Betty, I don’t know how she puts up with him. He keeps control of all the shopping, all the housekeeping money, and I bet in thirty years I’ve only seen them out together about five times and that was on the way to their dentist for check-ups. Colin was a nice lad but I don’t wonder he left home as soon as he could.’
‘Apparently Roland has disowned him for being gay.’
‘How do you know that?’ Viv was clearly surprised that Myra knew any gossip that she didn’t.
‘Betty told me when she came round with a train set the other day. She said it was their Col’s and he didn’t want it and we could have it for Oliver and Piers. Half an hour later Roland came round and took it back home.’
Viv laughed so loudly and so delightedly at the thought of him coming round to take it back that Myra thought she might do herself an injury. Finally she drew breath and managed to say, ‘Typical of him, absolutely typical. Oh dear! But be careful of him, Myra, he once was up in court for attacking a chap who cast aspersions on his virility, some road rage thing I think it was, but he got off on a technicality. It was so disappointing. All a long time before you moved in. Right, must go.’
She twinkled her fingers at Myra, dumped her mug in the sink and left, leaving behind her usual trail of destruction, but somehow today Myra didn’t mind. She didn’t even pause to wipe off the dried coffee rings on the table, but sat down to finish her coffee and thought about following Graham’s lead.
Better not. He’d spent enough money for two; four fancy shirts, two very expensive suits, new socks and underpants, new pyjamas to say nothing of the trendy haircut. No, two of them spending money needlessly would be extravagance taken to the extreme. He did look younger though.
She went in the sitting room to look at their wedding photo in the silver frame her mother had bought for her, about the only decent gesture she’d ever made. In the light of the big bay window he did look quite stunning in that picture. She didn’t look bad herself, she supposed. But that was then. She remembered that even on her wedding day she wished it had been John she was marrying. But Graham had to do, he enabled her to escape her barren, miserable existence with her mother. Myra had always felt her mother had never really wanted a child – and then when her father died young and left her with Myra to raise on her own, she’d just felt in the way. She’d never had enough money to break out and live away from home, bound in by a school with hopelessly low expectations, followed by a rotten job with low pay, sick to death of her mother’s grumbling. Marrying Graham seemed like entering paradise even if he wasn’t her real love. Even if it hadn’t been a grand passion, they’d always got along. They had the prospect of children to look forward to, and before that she discovered that sex suited her very nicely, Graham was good at it and she got pregnant so easily she could have had a houseful of children she thought. No problem.
That was when the tears began. They ran silently, steadily down her cheeks dripping on to her polo neck. Not tears of regret for the babies she never held, but regret that she was such a fool as to reject Graham. There was every chance she could have had all the babies in the world if she’d been prepared to try again but she’d deliberately turned her back on that glorious opportunity.
All these wasted bare years, locked away in her grief, shutting everyone out, excluding friendship, hating the human race, loathing physical contact with people, scornful of every decent motive, even barely tolerating Viv who was kindness itself and full of goodness towards her. Was Viv right? Was Graham more interesting to other women now? She had to admit he was. And he was working in an office full of smart well-groomed, good-looking up-to-the minute women who cared not one jot whether a man was married or not. Any man was fair game to some of them, she imagined.
Like that consultant had said to her, she had the children she wanted now, not in the way she would have liked, but she had got them. She rubbed her cheeks vigorously to dry the tears. For the first time in months she got out her make-up bag and stood in front of the hall mirror to apply it. She took one appraising look at her reflection in the hall mirror and seeing the improvement in her appearance gave her enough resolve to put her coat on and head out of the door with her handbag in less than five minutes of making her decision.
She went home in a taxi. It was half past five and soon time for Graham to be home. She’d rung Viv earlier and asked her to collect Piers and make sure Oliver went to her house when he got home from school. With an afternoon all to herself, she had done what she should have done years ago: thrust herself into the twenty-first century. She stacked all her purchases in her bedroom then rang Viv. The phone was still ringing when she heard Viv at the back door.
She burst into the kitchen and Myra knew instantly that something was terribly wrong. Viv looked distraught.
‘Myra! It’s Oliver! He hasn’t come home.’
Myra’s heart thudded. ‘But is it his late night? No, it isn’t, is it?
‘If he misses the school coach how does he get home?’
‘He never has before now. Where
’s Piers, doesn’t he know?’
‘He’s come over with me but he’s absolutely terrified, and he’s shut up like a clam.’
Myra went into the hall. ‘Piers! Come here, please.’
There came the slow dragging of footsteps into the hall and there he stood, his face streaked with tears.
‘Where is Oliver? Do you know?’
Piers shook his head.
‘Has he said anything to you about staying at school for something special?’
Piers shook his head.
‘Let’s see. It’s half past five so he’s almost an hour late. The coach will have broken down, that’ll be it. Or maybe there’s a crash on the by-pass. We mustn’t panic.’
But Myra was panicking. Before she could think what to do next Graham walked through the door and Myra expelled the breath she’d been holding. Graham would know what to do.
He was instantly on the telephone to the school and surprisingly someone answered his call. Myra stood behind him hands twisting and turning in her fright. She learned nothing from the one side of the conversation she could hear.
‘Well?’
‘As far as the school is concerned all the coaches are back at the garage, the last one has just reported in. Piers, did Oliver have money on him? His spending money for instance?’
Piers shrugged and looked anywhere but at Graham.
‘You remember how I told you only a few weeks ago that I was adamant about speaking the truth. Telling fibs is not right whatever the circumstances and we need to have some idea of what might be in Oliver’s mind. Now I’m going to ask you again. Do you know if Oliver had money on him? So he could get on public transport if he needed to?’
They could see from Piers’ face that he was making up his mind. ‘I promised I wouldn’t tell.’
‘Oliver’s safety might be involved here.’
Piers studied the carpet closely. ‘He . . . we have money hidden away just in case.’
‘Do you know where?’
Piers nodded.
‘Show me.’
Piers reluctantly trailed upstairs, going more and more slowly the nearer to the top he got. ‘I’m not supposed to say, we agreed.’
‘Today you have to. For Oliver’s sake.’
Piers pointed to the top shelf of the wardrobe. ‘I haven’t told you have I?’
Graham ignored him. He found the pair of socks, squeezed them and heard the rustle of paper money. Inside was fifteen pounds.
‘How much did you expect I would find?’
‘We had forty five pounds in there on Saturday. He’ll kill me if he thinks I’ve told.’
‘He won’t, because I shan’t let him. So he actually has thirty pounds on him.’
Piers looked thoroughly unhappy.
‘So has he said to you where he’s going? Delphine’s? His Grandma Stewart? Grandma Butler?’
‘No.’
‘Do you know why he’s gone?’
‘He said something about a school letter, and he was angry and he wouldn’t tell me more. He wanted me to go with him but I daren’t, but now I wish I had.’ He looked pleadingly at Myra and she put an arm round his shoulders.
‘Never mind, Graham will sort it, you’ll see.’
Viv was standing to one side almost writhing with the anxiety of it all. ‘It’s most likely a storm in a teacup you know, it can happen.’ She said this with far less confidence than she truly felt.
‘He always comes straight home. Always. If there’s something from the shops he needs he comes home first, leaves his schoolbag and tells me before he goes out again. Without fail.’ Myra said.
Graham rubbed his face with both hands as though it helped to clear his head. ‘We’ll give him another half an hour and then I’ll ring the police.’
‘I’ll go home. If you need me to have Piers I will, while you . . . whatever. Shall I take him home anyway and give him his supper? I’ve enough for two.’
‘Piers?’ Graham looked at him.
‘Yes.’ He looked relieved to have somewhere to go to avoid any more of Graham and Myra’s questions.
Piers was glad Orlando, Viv’s friendly cat, rushed over to him as soon as he arrived. He played with a furry mouse on the end of a piece of elastic and a ping pong ball till the supper was ready, all the time worrying about Oliver. He so wished Oliver hadn’t done what he said he would do.
Gobbling his supper down, comfortably seated in Viv’s sitting room watching TV, with a tray on a little table in front of him he felt safe.
‘Poor Oliver, I wonder what he’s having for his supper?’ Viv pondered between forkfuls of mashed potato.
‘He’ll be all right.’
‘You sound very sure. Delphine will have a nice surprise won’t she?’
Piers didn’t even answer.
‘He hasn’t gone there then.’
‘No.’
‘Grandma Stewart?’
‘No.’
‘Grandma Butler?’
‘No.’
‘You wouldn’t say even if you knew he had would you?’
‘It’s the brotherhood.’
‘The brotherhood? What’s that? The English Mafia?’
Piers laughed for the first time since he realised Oliver really had gone and done it, lived up to his threats, and by doing so, put everything at risk. ‘No. It’s our pact, the two Butler brothers’ pact to be loyal.’
‘Ah! Loyal to whom?’
‘To each other of course.’
‘Sometimes where safety is concerned . . . for the other person’s safety in the pact, you have to say what you know.’
Piers thought about this but decided to stay silent. She wasn’t going to dig any of Oliver’s plan out of him no matter what, even if she fell out with him forever.
They had ice cream to finish, strawberry with bits of real strawberry in it. He loved it. There’d be no more of this if Uncle Graham and Myra took a dislike to him over him keeping quiet about Oliver. He wished he’d agreed to go with him, but he couldn’t go with him because of her cats and his asthma. He could just about cope with Orlando, but any more than that and he started to wheeze. Just thinking of it, he felt that familiar pressure in his chest, the mounting feeling of not being able to stop the panic. He felt in his pocket for his inhaler and it wasn’t there. ‘I’ll have to go home . . . it’s my asthma.’
Viv having no experience of it immediately set off towards the door. ‘Come on then, I’ll see you over the road.’
Piers, torn between avoiding Myra and Uncle Graham and needing his inhaler, dragged along behind her. Viv took him in by the back door calling out ‘Piers needs his inhaler.’
Myra didn’t think anything else could go wrong. Piers had only had one mild episode of his asthma since he’d come to live with them and it had frightened her to death. She was already scared beyond endurance and now this. ‘It’s on the end of your bed, it must have fallen out of your pocket before school.’ She saw his chest noticably heaving and added, ‘I’ll get it, you sit down.’
She raced back downstairs and handed it to him. She put a cold wet piece of kitchen roll on his forehead and kept him still while he used the inhaler. Immediately his breathing began to flow more easily. Once his chest had stopped straining, Viv winked at Myra and nodded her head towards the hall.
Mystified, Myra followed her and shut the kitchen door behind her.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m sure he knows where Oliver has gone but he’s determined not to let on. I’ve asked him and tried the usual possibilities, but he refused to answer. Something about being loyal to Oliver. The Brotherhood he called it.’
‘I’ll Brotherhood him. Just you wait and see.’
‘Careful, Myra, remember his asthma. And it’s terribly important to boys to be loyal, especially when they’ve only got each other.’
‘If he knows, he should tell. I thought he and I were being honest with each other.’
Myra marched back towards the kitchen determined to
get the truth out of Piers. Forgetting her new role of being an understanding parent, forgetting what the head teacher had said about gentleness, she stormed immediately into action.
‘Now see here young man, you know where Oliver has gone don’t you? I can see from your face you do, now tell me and Uncle Graham where he is.’
Piers’ lips clamped together and he avoided her eyes.
‘Right. In that case Uncle Graham will ring the police and they can ask you where he is. And believe me they’ll get it out of you.’
‘Myra! Myra!’
‘Don’t Myra me, Graham. We’ve no alternative.’
Viv had never seen Myra so angry, she was alarming to an adult never mind a boy of ten. The grim aspect of her face, the twisted lips reminded her of the old Myra before the boys came. ‘Myra, you’ll make things worse.’
‘They couldn’t be worse and I don’t know what you’re still doing here, just leave this to me and Graham.’ Her temper was getting the better of her and she began to shake, from head to foot. When Viv stayed rooted to the spot she grew angrier still. ‘Go on, get out and don’t come here ever again. We can sort it ourselves we don’t need you or any other of our neighbours poking their noses in!’
Graham was speechless, he was already having the gravest difficulty in keeping control of himself and this was making it harder still. How could she speak like this to the only person in the road who bothered about her? He mouthed ‘sorry’ to Viv and nodded his head towards the back door. Viv left on the brink of tears.
Once she’d gone Myra broke down. ‘I can’t bear it, not knowing. It’s nothing we’ve done is it? It isn’t. I’ve tried so hard. I really have.’
Graham put a hand on her shoulder. ‘Whatever it is, he must have a serious reason – he’s not a fool. A letter from school you say, Piers?’
He got a nod in reply because Piers was using his inhaler again. When Piers had calmed down some more Graham said very, very gently, ‘I think in the circumstances, Oliver is in need of help. Tell us where he’s gone, that’s if you know. We want him back home so we know he’s safe, not to get him into trouble.’
‘Cousin Susan’s,’ Piers spluttered, then burst into tears frightened by his disloyalty.