The Life Of Robert Peterson

by Paul Kelly

  “Freya, that’s the dreaded Sarah out there, said Cameron, “She’s a witch, she is. She is daddy’s latest ‘wife’ if you can call her that, but she’s been married before and actually daddy got a letter from Sarah’s first husband’s wife. Her name is Sheila and she wrote to daddy to say how sorry she was about the marriage to Sarah, also saying that Sarah was nothing but trouble.”

  Freya listened with interest to what Cameron was telling her, even if he told her in excited tones with bursts of enthusiasm,

  “So Sheila knows about daddy’s marriage to Sarah?” she asked and Cameron nodded.

  “Her first husband; I think his name was Fred or something like that. He couldn’t stand Sarah either and refers to her as a man eater” he said and Freya laughed at the description as she straightened her skirt and prepared to go back into the lounge to meet this ‘monster’

  “How nice to meet you,” said the tall, dark lady, omitting to say that she had met Freya before. Freya shook her hand coldly and tried to smile as Robert, who had returned to the lounge to get something for his student, continued in his conversation.

  “Rita, my first wife will be here shortly,” he said, “She wants to come to the birthday celebrations, but I must be honest, we don’t see much of her at other times of the year.” With that last remark, he left the room again to return to his student and Sarah turned to Freya with a wicked smile on her face.

  “You’ve met Rita,” I suppose,” she said and Freya nodded.

  “I haven’t seen much of her, but she seemed to be very nice when we did meet, She’s Cameron’s mum, isn’t she?” Sarah looked scathing at Freya as she made her enquiries, before looking out through the window with a look of total disinterest. “Yes, she’s the brat’s mum,” she scoffed and Freya became very annoyed,

  “Cameron is a lovely, lovely little boy. I don’t think you should refer to him in the way you do.” she snapped and walked towards the other side of the room, but Sarah followed her.

  “Does he still sleep with his teddy bear?” asked Sarah and Freya looked down at the floor where she was standing, thinking that was a strange question to ask and quite unnecessary she thought.

  “I suppose he does. Most little boys like to take a teddy bear to bed, don’t you think?” Freya replied curtly, but Sarah sneered again and curled her lips.

  “I was talking about the father, not the brat,” she scoffed and Freya closed her eyes in disgust for a moment before she looked around the room for Cameron.

  “Where is Cameron?” she asked as she stood in the corner of the room, contemplating Sarah’s nasty remarks and thought of herself like a scolded child in the classroom where she was sent to stand in the corner.

  “Have you seen Cameron?” she asked again, thinking the little boy had wandered off into the room where ROBERT had his pupil, but Sarah looked to the floor.

  “In the loo,” she snapped, “Where you’ll usually find him. Pissy child” she added and Freya was about to look for the little boy in the toilet, when her mind was stilled a few minutes after, as she heard the strains of the violin coming from where Robert was teaching. It couldn’t have been the pupil. The music was beautiful and mellow. If it was the pupil, he or she was bloody good, she thought and then the door opened and Robert ushered his ‘student son’ into the room where the guests had gathered. Cameron bowed to everyone and they all clapped, ... except Sarah. She stood with her hands on her hips and with a thin line for lips as she took out her cigarette case and tapped a cigarette hard against the case.

  Freya could not believe what she had heard. She rushed towards Cameron and scooped him up in her arms.

  “That was simply beautiful, darling,” she said and then stood back to apologize for being so ‘intimate’ in her appraisal, but Cameron threw his arms around her even more and kissed her cheek.

  “I told you daddy was a good teacher, didn’t I?” he said and then bowed again. “When he told you he had a pupil this afternoon, it was me, but we wanted to give you a surprise.”

  “Cameron is learning fast,” added Robert,”I had already arranged to give him a lesson this morning, as it is his birthday and I just couldn’t let him down.”

  Freya clapped all the more, but Sarah blew her cigarette smoke around the room, before she announced that she would have to leave soon, due to a ‘more important’ meeting she had at the school where she was teaching music.

  Robert opened the street door for Sarah as she left the flat, but neither spoke and when he returned to the room where the others were assembled, he nodded towards Freya.

  “That was the very famous Sarah. The one who is aiming to take all I have away with her, except Cameron, of course. She’s only after money. She doesn’t want to be bothered with children. Is she the one who met you at the cafe?”

  Freya was stunned for the moment at Robert’s remarks. They sounded so caustic and so unusual to her expectations of what he might have said about anyone.

  “Yes, but as I said, she didn’t give me her name. I don’t know why she wanted to see me, unless it was to make comparisons,” replied Freya and Robert raised his eyebrows.

  “Comparisons?” he asked and Freya grinned.

  “Well, she probably sees herself as someone special and she wanted to see what there was in anyone else who could possibly be considered as equal.”

  Robert smiled again and threw his head back before he broke into a peal of laughter.

  “She need not have troubled herself,” he said as he shook his head, “There is absolutely no comparison. . . None whatsoever. . . Ah! that’s the door bell. It must be Rita.”

  Freya could hear a burst of raucous laughter as Rita came into the flat.

  “Where is he? Where’s the birthday boy?” she called out with her arms outstretched, but Cameron never left Freya’s side. In fact he grabbed her hand and held it close.

  Freya felt a little embarrassed as she called out, “There’s mummy,” hoping Cameron would respond, but the little boy didn’t move until Rita came into the room and scowled.

  “You little so and so,” she said, with a wry smile on her face. “A real ladies man is this one. No time for his mummy when there are other ladies about, eh?”

  Freya thought she might save the day by remarking on how beautifully Cameron had played on his violin but it seemed that instead of improving the situation, she made things worse.

  “Oh! that, “ said Rita, “He takes that caper from his dad, does that one . . . Wasting time screeching away on that bloody thing.”

  Freya could not help showing how hurt she was at Rita’s remarks, and especially as they were about her only son, who was definitely so gifted. Most mothers would be proud of any achievement their little one mastered so well, but then, she reflected that Rita was most definitely not interested in music and certainly not the classical stuff that Robert and his son enjoyed.

  “I think he plays beautifully,” she went on, ignoring Rita’s damning remarks, “I think it’s wonderful too that Robert is still able to play so well with his ... his problem.”

  “Oh! Cameron will love that, he will,” Rita replied, “Anyone who gives him praise for that stupid thing can be his friend for life. That’s what I say and as for Robert. Well, I think he should have given that up long ago and got himself a decent job, instead of struggling as he does. It’s not worth it for a few screeching sounds, is it?”

  Robert, who had been silent all this while suddenly whipped Cameron up in his arms and kissed him.

  “Daddy’s boy,” he proclaimed with more hugs and Rita looked away.

  “Never gives his mummy the time of day, he doesn’t,” she went on “and that bloody rabbit doesn’t help either. He thinks more of that thing than he does of me.” Robert put Cameron down without responding to Rita’s caustic remarks but the little boy frowned and looked to Freya for some
explanation ...

  “Mummy doesn’t see much of him at all these days ...” Robert snapped angrily, “Strange, don’t you think? Unless that’s what the modern Mummy does ...?”

  Rita scowled and asked if there was anything in the flat for drinking ... and she didn’t mean tea or coffee.

  “There’s a bottle of gin in the kitchen,” said Robert, “Or whisky if you prefer ... Or can you tell the difference these days?”

  “Anything that takes my mind off life as it is,” Rita scoffed.”I’d go on some sort of drug, but I don’t know what they can do to you, although a friend of mine says they’re great for relieving you of any pressure you might have and I mean, pressure that’s put on you by other people,” she snorted and gave Robert a dirty look. “I can cope with my own problems, much as they are, but when I have to think of ... .well, there’s nothing I can do about that.”

  Freya looked from Rita to Robert and her mind was confused as Robert took young Cameron by the hand.

  “We’ll do a little more practice till your mother cools off,” he barked and led Cameron into the other room.

  “Can I make you a cup of tea or something?” Freya asked Rita ignoring the fact that she would more than likely have preferred something stronger, but to her surprise Rita shook her head.

  “Tea will be fine,” she said and closed her eyes as she settled herself into the sofa with a grunt. “Not too much milk and two sugars.”

  Freya wanted to ask her about the magic word, but she felt it was a waste of time. People like Rita never thought to say please or thank you. They were above all that. . but as Freya was making the tea, Rita appeared suddenly beside her in the kitchen. “He did say there was something stronger, didn’t he?” she asked and opened several cupboard doors in a flash. “Ah! This’ll do nicely,” she proclaimed with great jubilation as she stuck a bottle of whisky under her arm and returned to the lounge. “I suppose he’s got the bloody stuff marked in the bottle,” she snapped. “He usually draws a thin pencil line, somewhere. No, he’s slipping. No tell tale marks ... Good, I can drink what I want now without old snoopy drawers watching ... .”

  Rita snuggled up closely into the comfort of the sofa as she uncorked the whisky and stuck the bottle to her lips.

  “Do you want a glass with that?” Freya enquired, but Rita didn’t even look up. “Get more this way,” she said and continued to swig from the bottle as Freya put the tea cup on the coffee table by the side of the sofa and left the ‘drinker’ to herself.

  Cameron returned after a short while and opened his batman cape with care, before he slipped the mask over his head.

  “You’ll be able to fly out the window with that on, won’t you?” Freya joked, but Rita took up the pun in her own way.

  “Don’t prompt him,” she muttered under her breath. “He might just do it.” she went on as she doubled up with laughter, making out that her remark was a joke and

  Freya was about to retaliate, just as Robert appeared in the room with his violin.

  “That’s enough for today,” he said as he put the instrument carefully into its case and closed the lid, before he pretended to be afraid of the sight of Cameron with his batman gear on. There were shrieks of joy at that moment and Freya and Robert clapped, whilst Rita hiccupped loudly and giggled her apologies into her bottle.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Freya kissed Cameron when the party was over. It was getting late for the little boy to be up and Robert told him to go brush his teeth and get ready for bed, but as Freya returned to her flat, there were uncertain feelings in her heart. She thought again of Sarah’s remarks and wondered how any woman could think as she did about a little boy, until she thought again about Rita’s observations.

  “How could a mother think about her son as she does?” she asked herself aloud in the street and a man passing by looked twice at her, probably thinking she had a drop too many, but Freya ignored his stare and went on her way. It was only when she did eventually get home that she let rip with her feelings, kicking a footstool across the room and throwing some cushions against the wall, before she started to shout.

  “Stupid, stupid people,” she snapped, “They want to think themselves lucky to have ever been loved by such a man as Robert Peterson. I can’t understand what makes them tick and as for that Rita woman, she should be ashamed of herself allowing her son to see her in the state she was in. Why ... she was falling over with all the drink she had knocked back.”

  It was only when she sat down and kicked her shoes off, that she thought about Robert and how tolerant he was towards those two bitches who made his life such a misery.

  She thought again about Rita’s remarks about Robert getting himself a ‘decent’ job, but surely she must have realized the years of training it takes to become a violinist and in particular, one who played like Robert did ... and who was qualified to teach the instrument to others. Freya sat quietly thinking for some time before she went into the kitchen to make herself a coffee, but even as she was drinking, her mind was alive with the thoughts of the party. What a party for that poor little boy ... and as an afterthought, she hoped that Frankie was O.K. being alone in the garden without his little friend ... What were those two ‘she-devils’ thinking about? She stared at the ceiling, knowing there was little if anything she could do to help in the situation, as Robert was so independent and didn’t want help from anyone. Freya could feel herself falling asleep as she went on thinking ... and wishing that Robert Peterson would look at her in a very different way and realize that however he felt, she would always love him.

  Chapter Nineteen

  It seemed like only a few moments ago that she had drunk her coffee and nestled up into the sofa, but she could hear the sound quite distinctly. It wasn’t her alarm. No it was much too different a time for her alarm to go off and she studied her wrist watch. Suddenly she got up and went to the phone.

  “Hello ... hello, is anyone there?” she enquired, but it was a few moments before the voice on the other end of the phone came through to her.

  “Is that you Freya?”

  “Yes ... who is that?”

  “It’s Jenny. Freya, I’ve spoken to ‘you-know-who’ and he won’t consider that I should keep the baby. I don’t know what to do.”

  “Jenny, please don’t let that creep tell you how to live your life. You should do exactly as you want and tell him to get stuffed. I’ve told you, he’s no good anyway and if you do as he suggests, he may come to see you a few times after that, but very soon he’ll drop you when someone else comes along.” There was a long pause before Jenny spoke again and Freya became worried, as she thought she could hear her friend crying. “Jenny, Jenny,” Freya called into the phone, “Jenny, are you alright. I thought I could hear you crying. Please don’t cry Jenny. He’s not worth it, please believe me.”

  Freya waited for a few more moments, expecting Jenny to put the phone down, but she didn’t.

  “Freya, I know you know ... I know you know this man better than I do, but ... Freya, I love him. That might sound strange to you after all you’ve told me about him, but I can’t help it. I’ve only seen him a few times, but I love him. I really, really do.”

  Freya stopped to think when Jenny told her that. She thought again of how she had met Robert in the cafe and how she felt about him then, and that was only a short time to fall in love with anyone, so what the hell was she thinking about Jenny? Wasn’t she in the same situation as herself and even if Sammy was a totally different kettle of fish from Robert, Jenny’s heart was the same as hers ... and besides, maybe Sammy was different with Jenny. Maybe he had found someone to really love ... .Maybe ... she thought, but then again, pigs might fly ...

  “I’m sorry to sound so matronly about this, Jenny,” she said softly, hoping that her understanding might serve as an apology for her sharpness of tone. “I know how you feel and onl
y you can make a decision about this situation, but I thought you told me that this man didn’t want the child.”

  “I know that, Freya, but yesterday he came into the cafe and I spoke to him again about that.”

  “Is he still of the same opinion, then?”

  “Yes, well, I think so, but he has agreed to talk about it with me.”

  Freya gave a sigh of relief and hoped she had misjudged her former bastard of a husband.

  “Well, that’s good. Are you going to meet him somewhere for this talk?”

  Again there was a long silence on the phone.

  “Yes,” Jenny replied. “I am going to his flat this evening.”

  “His flat? Are you telling me that he has given you his address AT LAST?”

  “Yes, Freya ... and his name.”

  Freya rubbed her brow before she started to scratch her head in confusion.

  “And what name is that, may I ask, “ she said, speaking very soberly and without any excitement, expecting the name to be anything but Sammy.

  “He told me his name was Sammy ... Samuel . . . Freya, is that right?”

  Freya nodded into the telephone as if by this action she could put everything into place.

  “Yes, that’s right Jenny. His name is Sammy, but do be careful and take everything he says with a pinch of salt ... Oh sorry, Jenny, I shouldn’t put it like that, but as I’ve said, please do be careful. Maybe we could meet in a few days time and you can let me know how you get on, eh?”

  “Yes, that will be fine. I’d like that Freya. Oh by the way, Sammy also told me his surname. It’s Boyle. Is that right too?”

  Freya smiled and her hair fell across her eyes.

  “Yes, that’s right, Jenny. See you whenever you can make it. Bye.”

  As Freya put the telephone down, she looked about her, wondering what on earth Sammy Boyle was playing at. He never wanted children when he was married to her and she knew that was a strong aversion he had to kids in general, so why should he change. She felt there was some plan in Sammy’s mind, but she would have to wait until she saw Jenny again before she would know anything about that. She only hoped that Jenny wasn’t as gullible as she thought she might be. This was a serious matter for anyone and she cared about Jenny and her future, whatever that might be, but Sammy Boyle could go to hell as far as she was concerned.