Never Greener

by Ruth Jones

  Belinda dug deep, focused every sinew and fibre of her being, and PUSHED!

  Fergus had stood aside to let Callum take his place. He bent down, his face parallel with Belinda’s, and whispered, ‘I love you so much, Lindy. I am so, so sorry …’

  But Belinda wasn’t listening. ‘Gaaaaaaaaaaagggghhhhh!!!!’

  And there it was. Birth number three for Belinda MacGregor, née Lewis. A gorgeous wee girl, instantly loved and welcomed into the world. The midwife handed Callum his daughter and helped Belinda slowly turn so she could finally rest on the bed. He placed their baby on her mother’s chest and the midwife helped him cut the cord.

  All the while, Fergus stood aside and watched, weeping like a fool.

  ‘Typical of you, Callum MacGregor,’ Belinda joked wearily. ‘Wait till all the hard work’s done, then turn up for the crowning glory. Literally.’

  A few minutes passed with nobody saying anything, just the back-and-forth of the post-birth routine, the comforting soundscape of the maternity ward going about its business, nurses and doctors coming and going, notes taken, blood pressure checked.

  Belinda reached out and held her husband’s hand, and innocently enquired, ‘So, where were you?’

  Stay calm, steady voice, you know the drill.

  ‘Don’t ask. What an idiot. Just rest now.’

  She smiled at him and he kissed her hand. ‘We’ve got a daughter, babes.’

  ‘I know.’

  Breathe. Breathe, for fuck’s sake.

  Later that evening, after the family had all been to visit and said hello to Ailsa Cerys Louise and when everyone had gone home and it was just Belinda and Callum and their sleepy, grouchy new bairn, in the tired dim lighting and dry heat of the maternity ward, Callum handed the little box to Belinda. Swallowing down the urge to be sick, guilt oozing from every pore, he did what he knew he had to do and lied to save his marriage, to save his life.

  ‘This is the reason I was late.’ The line was well practised, written by Kate. ‘It’s an eternity ring.’

  She took the box and opened it, shocked and delighted, lifted the ring from its setting and put it on the third finger of her left hand. She completely believed his story – of the trip to Bradshaw’s in Glasgow, of the purchase of this antique emerald ring, of the love he felt for her, of the fidelity that coursed through his veins.

  And now, after one of the most tiring days of her life, Belinda MacGregor fell asleep, smiling, the emeralds on her left hand glinting in the harsh neon light of the hospital ward. And Callum felt lost, and sad, and bereft.

  25

  The gears on the Student Union minibus crunched reluctantly into reverse as Matt pulled into the loading bay. He was usually quite a good driver, but this ancient vehicle was getting the better of him. ‘Bloody thing,’ he muttered as he parked as near as dammit to the foreboding doors of the scenery dock. He was collecting props and staging for Twelfth Night, not a task he’d wanted but one which he’d offered to do for Hetty. As payback. For nearly coming to blows with Adam Latimer.

  Two weeks earlier, Matt had gone with her to the auditions for Twelfth Night, solely for moral support. And, admittedly, Hetty’s audition had been embarrassing. For some unknown reason, she’d chosen to do a speech as Maria (‘the cute funny one’ as Hetty described her), but with a Newcastle accent.

  ‘Swayt Sir Tooby, be pare-shunt for t’neet; since tha youth of tha coont was today with tha’ laydee, she is much outta quiet.’

  She sounded Jamaican, but Matt hadn’t the heart to tell her.

  Adam Latimer was running the auditions as well as playing the lead and directing the play. He had been less kind. ‘Hetty, that was shite! What’s with the accent, man?’

  ‘Well, I wanted to try something different,’ Hetty offered, surprisingly unaffected by Adam’s response.

  ‘Yeah well, you shouldn’t have bothered. Waste of time. Now do it again and drop the silly voice.’

  ‘I don’t think I can, though, it’s how I learnt it.’

  ‘Don’t be such a tit, of course you can drop it.’

  Suddenly Matt, who hadn’t been paying much attention, desperate only to get out of the room without being noticed, felt his hackles rising. He’d only known Hetty a week or so, but he found himself feeling enormously protective of her, especially when this dickhead started throwing his weight around. He stood up.

  ‘Hang on, mate, this is fuckin’ am-dram. Who d’you think you are, Derek fucking Jacobi?’

  ‘It’s alright, Matt, really.’ Hetty was blushing and an awkward silence filled the room. Adam was both shocked and delighted, noticing Matthew for the first time. ‘Well, well, the Quiet Man speaks! You sure we can’t tempt you to audition?’

  Matt stared back at him. ‘So you gonna give her a part or what? ’Cos I didn’t see them queuing round the block just now to be in your little play.’

  They both stared each other out, eventually interrupted by Moj the stage manager, authoritative in her dungarees and baseball hat and carrying an oversized ringbinder. ‘OK, well, thanks for coming in, Hetty. We’ll post the cast list up on the Dram Soc noticeboard tomorrow, OK?’

  Adam laughed and broke away, leaving Matt looking slightly foolish.

  In the end, Hetty had been cast as Officer Number Two. She had two lines: ‘Come sir away!’ and ‘Come sir, I pray you go!’ She was delighted with them both.

  Matt felt bad for losing his temper and was now making up for it by helping transport a few large items borrowed from the Belgrade Theatre for the production, which was due to open in three weeks. His opinion of Adam hadn’t wavered – the guy was a complete idiot. But Hetty was his friend – and he was doing it for her.

  A stagehand from the theatre, who’d been sent out to show him the way, banged on the back of the minibus to stop him reversing further and crashing into the gates. ‘Whoah! OK, Trigger, that’s enough!’

  Matt got out from behind the wheel, annoyed at the guy’s patronizing tone.

  ‘You’ll have to come in and wait for five minutes. The stuff needs to be signed off before you can take it.’

  Matt could think of twenty other things he’d rather be doing this Friday afternoon, but he dutifully followed the stagehand through the vast scenery dock and was shown to a seating area. ‘Help yourself to coffee if you like. It tastes awful, but it’s free.’ Matt decided against it, grabbed an old copy of Plays and Players and sat in one of the Green Room’s well-worn chairs.

  He was halfway through reading a review of Titus Andronicus at Stratford when the door was opened by a kindly-looking woman who reminded him of his gran. ‘If you could just wait here,’ she was saying to a younger woman following behind, ‘Oliver won’t be long. Have you got your audition piece?’

  ‘Yes. All sorted, thanks.’

  The kindly-looking woman checked her clipboard before looking at Matt, confused. ‘Oh, have I ticked you off the list?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘What’s your name, dear?’

  ‘Er … Matt.’

  The woman looked at her list again. ‘No … I don’t seem to have a Matt. Are you Grumpy? Or Sleepy? Or Dopey, perhaps?’

  ‘Well, at this moment in time I’m all three.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  The joke was lost on her, though not on the younger woman.

  ‘I’m here to pick up a large table and a clothes chest. Oh, and some yellow stockings and cross garters, whatever they are.’

  The younger woman was now sitting across the room from him, her legs crossed and a script in her lap, marked up with green highlighter pen. She smiled at the misunderstanding as the kindly woman continued, ‘Ah, right. Thought as much. You don’t really look like an actor.’ And with that she disappeared out of the Green Room.

  Matt looked at the younger woman and grinned. ‘My feelings have never been so hurt.’

  She grinned back. ‘Don’t suppose you’d test me, would you? On my lines?’

  ‘Er, yeah, OK.’

 
; She handed him the script. ‘You say everything that’s not in green and I—’

  Matt interrupted her. ‘Oh, I’m an old hand at this. My friend’s an actress. Well, sort of …’

  ‘This is my first audition out of drama school.’

  As she spoke, Matt noticed the soft lilt of her Scottish accent and how captivating her eyes were. Not wanting to look like a staring weirdo, he turned his attentions to the script. ‘Right. Here we go. This is the wicked stepmother …’ He cleared his throat and suddenly became very self-conscious. He tried to counter this with forced confidence, but his voice came out a tad loud. ‘Hark, who’s that beneath the tree? She’s sleeping fast and doesn’t see. SNOW WHITE WAKES UP … Oh sorry, d’you want me to read the stage directions?’

  ‘No, it’s OK. Kind lady, glad I am to find you here, For I am lost and full of fear …’

  The door opened again and an energetic man in red Spandex appeared. ‘OK, sweetheart, d’you want to come with me?’ And he swept out as flamboyantly as he’d swept in.

  ‘Wish me luck,’ she whispered to Matt as she gathered her things.

  ‘I can’t,’ he whispered. ‘I don’t know your name.’

  She smiled at him. ‘It’s Kate.’

  ‘Good luck, Kate,’ Matt said. ‘You’ll storm it.’

  An hour later, Matt was unloading his cargo into the storage area of Warwick Arts Centre, helped by Hetty. Where she got her strength from Matt really didn’t know.

  ‘I met Snow White today,’ he told her. ‘Well, a potential Snow White anyway.’

  ‘Ah yes, the Belgrade panto. Adam was hoping he might get seen for that.’

  ‘Why should he? He’s not a professional actor.’

  ‘Matt, will you please give the guy a break? He’s immensely talented, y’know.’

  ‘So he keeps telling you.’

  And then on cue, with burning ears, Adam came up behind them, lighting a cigarette and blowing smoke into Hetty’s face. She gave a slight cough, but didn’t complain.

  ‘God, what a fucking ’mare of a day. Matt, you’re a star for getting this lot. Let me know if I can ever repay the favour.’

  Matt couldn’t be sure but he wondered if Adam had winked at him when he said it. Adam always made him uneasy. He wished to God Hetty would fall in love with someone else, but it didn’t look like that was going to happen any time soon. ‘And you, my dear, are a fucking angel. I swear to God, Matt, she keeps me sane, this woman does.’ And the next thing, Adam was looking into Hetty’s eyes before kissing her full on the lips. Matt looked away. Not because he was embarrassed by the kiss, but because he couldn’t bear to see Hetty so vulnerable and gullible.

  ‘Right, you can manage the rest, can’t you?’ he said. ‘I better get this bus back to the Union.’

  ‘Cheers, mate,’ Adam called out to him as Matt headed for the driver’s door. Adam and Hetty were standing together now, his arm louchely draped over her shoulder. ‘By the way, you’re invited to the after-show party on the last night. It’s in Dom’s house in Earlsdon. Gonna be major.’

  ‘Maybe.’ Matt started the engine, crunching the gears inelegantly into place and giving the appearance of being flustered. Which he wasn’t. Just overly keen to get away from this creep.

  The minibus kangaroo-jumped away and Matt swore Adam was laughing at him as he watched his reflection in the rear-view mirror.

  26

  The lunchtime rush was over. Just a table of five finishing off their coffees, Jackie Legg nursing a pint at the bar and an American couple studying a map of the Central Highlands, making notes on a pad. Kate looked at her watch. An hour to go before the end of her shift.

  ‘See you tomorrow!’ Izzie the cook shouted as she headed out the door.

  Kate waved back and started collecting the empties left by a group of businessmen. The afternoon lull had descended on the pub, shaded and cool now, a sly film of tobacco smoke snaking its way through the shafts of sunshine that crept in through the windows.

  Kate sighed as she loaded the glasses into the washer. It was nearly three weeks since she’d seen Callum, sent him packing from her parents’ house armed with two tins of unused paint that he could claim he’d bought from the DIY store and an antique ring left her by her grandmother.

  That Callum would give to his wife.

  There’d been no kiss when he left – he was in such a state. The only thing she could do was to coach him, make sure he had his story straight, that he wouldn’t get caught out. ‘I’m saving your sorry ass,’ she’d joked. But Callum was in no mood to joke.

  She hadn’t expected to hear from him straight away – of course she hadn’t. She knew she’d have to be patient. She’d tried filling her days as best she could, taking on extra shifts at the pub, reading The Stage from front to back, applying for auditions. She’d even had an audition, which in fact had gone quite well – a pantomime in Coventry. But if truth be told, her initial enthusiasm for being an actress had left her. And the thought of living and working in a different city from Callum was anathema to her. She had to be where he was.

  The evening after it’d all happened, she’d gone into work as planned. And when Fergus asked her if she’d got the phone message, she feigned ignorance – said she’d been out with her boyfriend Jake all day, they’d had a picnic up Arthur’s Seat. ‘Why? What’s up?’

  Fergus relished the invitation to launch into the drama of the day and re-tell the tale: how Callum’s wife had gone into labour, how they couldn’t find him, how they’d looked everywhere! How Fergus had nearly been the birthing partner, but then Callum had turned up right at the last moment.

  ‘Oh my God! That’s such a cool story. And what did she have in the end?’ Kate had been rehearsing her ‘excited’ look, her ‘I’m-so-pleased-for-Callum’ look.

  ‘A little girl. Ailsa.’

  ‘Sweet!’

  ‘Ailsa Cerys Louise. Nine pounds five. Between you and me, I thought they might have named her after our mother, but hey ho, it’s their baby!’ Fergus was clearly a bit put out that they hadn’t.

  ‘And so where was he? Callum?’ She kept her voice steady, her eyes unblinking.

  ‘Aw, well, it was really romantic. Turns out he’d gone to Glasgow to buy an eternity ring for Belinda. As a surprise!’

  ‘Who’d have thought!’

  ‘I’ve got a photo here, have a look at the wee thing!’

  Fergus produced from his back pocket a Polaroid taken just hours before by a nurse at the hospital. A little crumpled now, it’d been passed round all the regulars and anyone who showed an interest in Fergus’s news. Kate was thrown. She wasn’t ready for this and she focused hard on the slightly blurred image before her, blurred even more by the unwelcome tears that were welling up in her eyes. Callum’s dazed face stared back at her, his arm around Belinda, baby Ailsa between them.

  ‘Aww. Gorgeous!’ was the best she could manage. And she had to keep staring, had to keep her eyes looking down as she willed the tears to stop. Thankfully, Fergus was distracted by old Stuey, who’d just walked in and wanted to hear the news. ‘What’s all this ’bout Cal’s bairn?’

  Fergus wandered over to pull him a pint, repeating his story once more and leaving Kate holding the photo, giving her time to pull herself together.

  It was seeing Callum there, in that three-inch vinyl square of hazy technicolour, looking so blown apart, so shattered, that she had known for certain she was in love with him. He was hers. Without a trace of bitterness or envy, she simply understood in that moment that Callum didn’t belong inside the photograph’s little unit. He belonged with her. She felt remarkably calm about it. Like everything had fallen into place. She just needed to be patient.

  And she was. Patient.

  Every day she came to work. And every day she limited the number of times she would ask Fergus about the new baby, throwing in the odd ‘How’s Callum finding fatherhood again? Can he still change a nappy?’ It was the only connection – despite it being a tenuo
us one – that she had with the man she loved. She knew she couldn’t ask too many questions, that she had to ask about Belinda and Ailsa, even the boys, not just Callum. She couldn’t risk raising any suspicions from Fergus.

  And still she remained patient.

  But still she heard nothing.

  And only once did she ask when Callum might be coming back to work, straining to sound casual, as if it didn’t matter to her if she never saw him behind that bar again. For more credibility she added, ‘If he’s not coming back, Jake’s looking for bar work – just let me know.’

  Fergus said he would, that he had no idea what Callum’s plans were. That when him and the missus had called round to see them the day before, Callum was so besotted with the baby and Belinda, waiting on her hand and foot, he didn’t dare bring up the subject of work.

  Oof! It was like Kate had been punched in the stomach: besotted with the baby and Belinda … She showed nothing, just smiled and turned to serve a customer.

  But when she’d woken up the next morning, and counted the days without hearing his voice, without touching him, kissing him, fucking him … something inside her snapped. And she knew what she had to do.

  27

  ‘Hi! I’m Kate.’

  She was standing on the doorstep of 24 Sutherland Avenue, partially hidden behind a huge bouquet, defended by her captivating smile.

  Belinda had opened the door with Ailsa in her arms. She’d been expecting Sue to call round and was thrown by the sight of this bright and beautiful young woman beaming at her and proffering flowers. ‘Sorry, do I know—?’

  ‘I work with Callum at the pub,’ Kate interrupted. ‘You must be Belinda!’ Her enthusiasm was bordering on maniacal and she made a mental note to calm down. ‘And this must be the beautiful Ailsa we’ve all heard so much about!’

  Caught off guard by the praise for her newborn, Belinda smiled back, flattered but confused. ‘Yes! She’s only just woken up.’

  ‘Awww, she’s gorgeous! I’m sorry to call unannounced, it’s just a couple of us clubbed together to get you these and I promised I’d drop them off on my way over to my boyfriend’s.’