by Nicola May
‘Nobody’s that strong,’ Stephen said quietly, a sudden
rush of relief flowing over him now that he finally knew the truth. ‘Sometimes, I wish you’d just take a break, take some proper time off,’ he told her. ‘I can’t remember the last time you even took a week off.’
‘That really is no business of yours, Stephen,’ Alana slurred, but for once he wasn’t deterred.
‘Now that I know that her imaginary father doesn’t exist, I realise that poor Eliska hasn’t ever been on holiday, has she? ’
‘How dare you question whether my daughter has had a holiday or not,’ Alana spat.
‘Our daughter,’ Stephen said far too loudly.
Alana felt sick. Just him saying those words hit home. Eliska was their daughter. That felt too weird. It had always been just the two of them, Alana and Eliska, living side by side, muddling through. Somehow a third party didn’t seem right.
‘You can’t just waltz into Eliska’s life now,’ Alana stated.
‘Look, I’m not stupid.’ Stephen was exasperated now. ‘And I would never leave Susan – in fact, could never ever tell Susan.’ He cleared his throat. ‘It would break her heart.’
‘Anyway, we’re doing fine just the two of us. And I don’t need your input of any kind,’ Alana said angrily.
Stephen was now completely rattled. ‘Just take a look at yourself, Alana, will you? I adore you, but something’s just got to give. If there is anything I can do to make your life easier, then you must tell me.’
‘Do you know what?’ Alana said aggressively. ‘I wouldn’t come to you if you were the last man on earth.’ She threw her head back and downed her fifth gin and tonic in one.
‘That’s right.’ Stephen raised his voice again. ‘Get pissed. Go and hide. I’ve just found out you are the mother of my child and you’re running off. Don’t face the music, whatever happens: you’re good at avoiding that. In fact, why don’t you pick somebody here and go upstairs for a quickie? You’re good at that too.’
And with that Stephen got up and went over to his colleagues, leaving an open-mouthed Alana sitting on her own.
The secret was finally out and she felt scared.
Scared, and all of a sudden, very lonely.
The black London cab pulled up outside Rosco’s. Alana paid the extortionate fare that over thirty miles in a taxi brings, and headed into the café. She had to try and sober herself up. Eliska would be back from Tommy’s at around eight and she didn’t want her daughter – or Dana for that matter – to see her in this state.
‘Black coffee, please,’ she said abruptly to Bruno behind the counter, throwing off her coat on to the seat behind her. ‘Do They Know It’s Christmas’ was blaring out from the radio on the back counter.
‘We’re just about to close actually,’ Bruno said politely, taking in the smart high-cut trousers and oozing cleavage of the attractive woman in front of him.
‘Oh, just a double espresso then, please. I’ve had a hell of a day.’
‘And a hell of a skinful,’ Bruno whispered to Tony.
‘I’ve got some wine out the back if you’d prefer,’ Bruno offered, taking in the heady perfume that Alana had just sprayed on herself. She looked up at Bruno, and was quite taken aback by his dark brown eyes, stocky upper body and short dark crop of black hair. He gave her a cheeky grin.
‘Coffee? Wine? Wine? Coffee? I mean, it is Christmas, isn’t it?’
Tony shook his head in disbelief at the gall of this brother as he headed out into the freezing December evening.
‘Oh, go on then, just the one glass,’ Alana sighed, intoxication suddenly seeming the only answer.
Bruno locked the café’s bright red door, put up the Closed sign and shut down the blinds. He poured two glasses of Chianti and joined Alana at the table.
‘So why is a gorgeous woman like you having a hell of a day?’
‘It’s a long story and I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s drink.’ Alana almost downed her glass in one.
A bottle of wine later, Alana learned that Bruno and Tony had taken on the café from their father Rosco Marino, who had now retired back to Italy. They had moved to Denbury ten years ago as children and loved the suburban way of life. The business was doing well, and for now, this was where they intended to stay.
The only thing that Bruno managed to glean was that sitting in front of him was a very desirable older woman, who didn’t want to disclose anything about her private life.
The seven o’clock pips on the radio sobered Alana up.
‘Shit, is that the time? I really must go.’ She went to get up and staggered backwards. Bruno leaped up and grabbed her.
‘Whoa there, lady.’
Alana was wasted. ‘Look at you, my own Italian Stallion,’ she hiccupped as Bruno kept his arm around her waist.
‘Italian Stallion, eh? Then you can be my English Cougar anytime.’
‘Fuck me,’ Alana suddenly said gruffly.
Bruno pulled back her hair and kissed the wanton business-woman full on the lips. Without any resistance Alana ripped off her shirt and before you could say Saint Nicholas they were having mad, bad, hot sex over the ice-cream freezer.
Back at the McNair household, Susan began writing a letter.
My darling Stephen
I read an article once – I think it was by that lovely American actress Cybill Shepherd. Anyway, she was talking about a former boyfriend and how she let him go with love, and how it was the hardest but most sensible thing she had ever done. The time has come for me to do the same.
She wiped the tears away with the back of her hand.
You are a kind, adorable man, I love you beyond infinity. When I was diagnosed, you didn’t scream and shout and say, ‘Why us?’ You dealt with everything in your practical and loyal way, making sure I was always comfortable and adapting the house to suit my needs, without any thought of yourself or your own wants.
It’s time now for you to have your own life. We have travelled the world and been everywhere I’ve ever wanted d to go. I can’t produce children for us, and I know even though you said you didn’t mind, a family is something you always craved.
I certainly don’t want to be a burden to you as my condition deteriorates. You deserve the best, Stephen, you deserve to be happy. You deserve your conjugal rights! I want you to know that you must feel no guilt for anything you have done whilst being in this relationship. I love you unconditionally, and there is no man in this world who could have made me happier than you have.
So – that is why I am sitting here waiting for Cheri to come and collect me and take me to the airport. The sun on my face in Cyprus will make me smile, and do me nothing but good – and although my sister’s love and care will not be quite up to your standard, you know I’ll be in safe hands. I dithered whether to wait until after Christmas, but like giving up anything you love, there would be no easy time to do it, so why not now.
I love you, Stephen. You have given me the best years of my life. Please do not contact me. I want you to start a new life without the burden of me and my illness.
Yours forever,
Susan xx
Mo flew up the stairs of the doctor’s surgery; she had seen Grim Lynn pulling into the car park and wanted to be sat at her desk when she arrived. It was a crisp, sunny December day and she had actually enjoyed her power-walk from the school to work. She noticed that it was taking her less time than at the beginning of the term, and she had to admit that she did feel better in herself. She knew that she had Joan to thank for pushing her to do the exercise, but as they were doing it together it had ceased to be a chore and she really enjoyed their regular catch-ups, as they marched around the park with their torches on their hats.
She was also in an especially good mood today as Charlie had called her last night to say he was coming to visit on Christmas Eve.
‘Nice to see you in on time for once.’ Lynn breezed in,
acknowledging Mo. She stopped and start
ed rooting in her handbag. ‘Thought you and Ffion could get the tree out and decorate it today.’ She handed three pieces of threadbare silver tinsel to Mo and carried on through to her office.
Dr Delicious walked out of his treatment room in time to see what was happening.
‘Nothing like cheering the sick patients with a sparkling
Christmas tree,’ he laughed, then got a crisp twenty-pound note out of his wallet and handed it to Mo. ‘When you get a minute, why don’t you whizz down to the charity shop and buy some decent decorations. I noticed in the window that they’re stocking a range with proceeds to various charities. Get a set for yourself too, if there’s any spare cash.’
‘That’s a lovely idea,’ Mo smiled. ‘And thank you very much.’
‘By the way, that colour really suits you,’ the doctor added, leaving Mo slightly flushed and silently thanking the Nil by Mouth sign hanging on her desk.
Ffion ran to her desk. Her eyes looked red and swollen. She drained the coffee carton she was holding, pulled off her green bobble hat and scarf and sat at her desk in her coat.
Mo approached her gently. ‘You all right, darling?’
‘Not really, Mo.’
‘Come on, what is it?’
Ffion sniffed. ‘You know the Italian one from Rosco’s?’
‘Tony, isn’t it?’
‘No, the shorter one, Bruno. Well…’
Just then, the first patient of the day appeared. ‘I’ve g-got an appointment with D-Dr Anderson at nine-fifteen,’ the nervous young male patient stuttered.
‘OK, fine,’ Mo said kindly. ‘If you can just register on the screen over there…Go on,’ she urged Ffion in an undertone.
‘Well, instead of letting him stand me up, I decided to walk down to Rosco’s – and I caught him red-handed, I did!’ Her Welsh accent was made stronger by her emotion.
Dr Delicious rang his buzzer to say he was ready for his first patient. Mo waved the young lad in as Ffion continued.
‘There was some blonde woman coming out of the café, no disrespect to you, Mo, but she looked about forty! I just knew she’d been at it with him. She looked drunk and totally dishevelled. He waved her off in a taxi and his shirt was hanging out.’
‘Oh, Ffion, that’s no proof.’
‘Mo, it gets worse. He just brushed me off saying that he had been interviewing the blonde bitch for a job and had totally lost track of time. And that he was tired and he’d see me another day. He stank of drink and I just knew he was lying.’
‘But I didn’t think you really cared about him anyway?’ Mo tried to see reason.
‘I actually like Bruno, he’s funny and always up for the ride.’
‘Let’s go out for lunch and we can talk about it,’ Mo said in motherly fashion as the waiting room started to fill up.
‘I’m not going anywhere near Rosco’s. Let him bloody miss me!’ Ffion said adamantly.
‘No, we can go to Fishers and get a posh sandwich. Dr Delish has also asked me to go and buy some decent Christmas decorations, so we can do that too.’
‘Ladies, this is a workplace, not a social club,’ Lynn’s voice barked from her office.
‘Bitch,’ Ffion breathed to Mo, adding in a murmur while looking at the office: ‘And a very Happy Christmas to you, too, you miserable old cow!’
– Chapter Ten –
The Featherstone Primary School Christmas production was the highlight of the autumn term.
Joan ran madly around the dedicated dressing-up classroom with pins hanging out of her mouth. She sewed and clipped, fussed and soothed as she did so. When Mr Chambers popped in to see how she was getting on, he grinned secretly to himself, noticing that the children were drawn to Joan like The Pied Piper of Denbury – which they were going to be acting out later.
Within an hour, and with the help of Preachy Knickers – little villagers, pipers, farmers, animals and angels emerged beautifully made up and dressed, all ready for their moment.
Alana had dropped Eliska off an hour ago. She suddenly awoke with a start to realise that she was still sitting in the car outside the school gates. Despite it now being dark, she was still wearing her sunglasses, and a smidge of dry white dribble sat on her chin. She was mortified that anyone might have seen her in this state. She still felt absolutely terrible. Not only physically because of all the alcohol she had consumed the night before, but she was also in great distress that Stephen now knew for sure that Eliska was his daughter.
He had made no effort to contact her, which hurt her greatly – and when she had tried to call him that morning to arrange to meet to talk things through logically, his phone had been switched off.
To top all of this she could barely remember what had been said at Rosco’s with the young Italian, let alone what she had done. But every so often she got a flashback of pictures of choc ices and writhing nakedness – and groaned to herself.
She was a forty-two-year-old woman who was acting like a twenty-year-old slut! She cringed again, thinking of kind Dana, who on seeing what a drunken mess she was in, had whisked Eliska straight back to stay at her house. What on earth would she think of her?
Shivering, Alana removed her sunglasses to reveal bloodshot eyes. Reaching into her make-up bag, she did the best touch-up job she could muster.
That was it: she had to stop drinking, it was the root of all evil!
She combed her hair and opened her car door, nearly knocking Inga off of the path as she did so.
‘Alana,’ the pretty Pole said civilly.
‘Hi, Inga. All OK with you?’
Inga was shocked, firstly at how friendly her ex-boss was and secondly, how rough she looked.
‘Yes, thank you. I work for Gordon fulltime now.’ Gordon was scurrying up behind her, tweaking and preening his brown locks as he did so.
‘She’s a treasure,’ Gordon uttered, then clocking Alana’s haggard face under the streetlamp: ‘Good night, was it?’ And without waiting for an answer he grabbed Inga’s hand and scampered up the school path.
Alana wearily made her way through the gates and up to the school, where she spotted Dana, who was buying raffle tickets in the entrance to the main hall.
‘I am so very sorry,’ she began, but Dana put her hand up to stop her and looked Alana straight in her bloodshot eyes.
‘We all make mistakes, Alana,’ she said kindly. ‘And I don’t think you’ll be making the same one again, will you?’
Alana shook her still-pounding head and shuffled to find a seat towards the back of the hall. She looked around her at the chattering mums, dads, grannies and grandads and suddenly felt very lonely. How nice it would be to have somebody who cared, sat next to her right now. It suddenly dawned on her that since she had moved to Denbury, she hadn’t made a single friend. Her work had become her life, and apart from the very few times she took her daughter out, she more often than not ended up on her computer late at night, drinking too much wine and going to bed far too late.
What sort of life was that for her or Eliska? Feeling an overwhelming urge to speak to Stephen, she pressed redial. There was no answer, so she sent off a quick text instead: Call me! We can work this out. I’m truly sorry.
Joan made her final tweaks backstage, then ran out front to join Colin and Mo, who were poised ready in the front row. Cissy was sleeping soundly in Colin’s arms.
Inga and Gordon sat behind them, laughing as Preachy Knickers’ husband, Kenneth, lined up his tripod perfectly, then had an obvious strop when Mr Chambers said he wasn’t allowed to film the event.
Inga smiled politely as a seething Kenneth Pritchard reluctantly sat down next to her.
Gordon dug his hand into her thigh and whispered: ‘You could’ve told me Preachy’s husband was so hot.’
‘Stop it!’ Inga whispered back, raising her eyebrows, suddenly seeing him in a different light herself.
The music started and a hush went around the hall. Right on cue, Cissy woke up and started to scream. On came the nar
rator, who was one of the Year 6 girls, swiftly followed by the animals.
Preachy Knickers began to huff and puff as her darling eldest daughter’s voice was overshadowed by the lungs of a one year old.
‘You’d think they’d take her outside,’ she said far too loudly, and a compliant Colin got up and began to rock his beloved daughter out in the entrance hall.
Gordon couldn’t contain himself when Lily, with a fluffy white lamb headdress on and glitter stuck to her glasses, started her solo. The proud father stood up and began clapping like an excited seal, pointing just to make sure everyone knew that was his daughter up on the stage giving it her all.
Just as Inga was pulling the bottom of his jumper to make him sit down, Lola then appeared as an angel. That was just too much for Gordy, who then had to sit down and wipe his gushing eyes with the tissues Inga had thoughtfully got out ready for him.
Eliska sat cross-legged with the other villagers and sucked her thumb. Alana kept trying to get her attention to take it out, but after all the goings-on of the night before, the little girl was exhausted. Before the second song had even started she leaned to her left and fell fast asleep against Tommy, who was gabbling his way through the verses, not knowing any of the true words.
Alana, already bored and still feeling decidedly the worse for wear, checked her phone again and felt a tear prick her eye. Where was he?
Rosie literally shone as a little star and Mo thought she was going to burst with pride. She couldn’t believe what a lovely well-adjusted little girl she was, considering everything she had to put up with from her father.
Joan looked to Colin and grimaced as Clark and Kent started to fight, using their recorders as weapons in the back row. The fighting stopped and a feeling of relief swept over the Brown parents, until Skye started to scratch her head the whole way through the final number.
Chairs scraped back as the applause subsided, raffle prizes were given and the usual thanks by a flashing-bow-tied Mr Chambers came to an end.
‘I believe there is a new nit gel on the market now which is failsafe,’ Preachy Knickers said loudly to Joan on her way out.