The Life Of Robert Peterson

by Paul Kelly

  Three days later when Freya was walking along the High street, she bumped into Jenny again. It was a Saturday and they were both free until later on that day. Old Buggerlugs was good to them on a Saturday, although it was one of his busiest days, but he gave them lots of free time and expected only a two hour shift from each of the girls, whenever it suited them.

  “How are things then, Jenny?” she enquired enthusiastically and watched her friend’s face to see the reaction, but Jenny did not smile. She stared ahead as if she hadn’t heard a word that Freya had said to her. “Jenny, I asked you a question,” Freya repeated as she waved her hand in front of Jenny’s face and Jenny stirred as if from a dream.

  “Oh sorry Freya, “ she said softly, “I was miles away there. What was it you said?”

  Freya raised her eyebrows and grinned.

  “You’re in love girl, I can see that, but I can’t ... “ she was about to say she couldn’t understand how Jenny could be in love with a creep like Sammy, but then she thought better of it as she smiled again and took Jenny’s hand.

  “Are things a little better for you Jenny?” she asked and Jenny gave her a gentle little smile.

  “Yes, I think so . .” she replied “Well, I’m not quite sure, but Sammy has asked me to re-think all this baby thing through. He says he doesn’t really want to father any children, but that as he loves me, he will have to re-think things himself.”

  Freya stopped in her tracks when she heard Jenny speaking as she did.

  “He told you he loved you?” she asked with utter surprise and Jenny nodded shyly.

  “Yes Freya . . . He says he doesn’t want to get married or anything like that, but he’ll live with me if I agree that we can have an open relationship and in that way...”

  “Yes, I know all about that Jenny,” Freya snapped, interrupting what her friend was about to say. “In that way, you can stay at home and look after the baby; do the cooking and ironing and all the housework while he gallivants out doing what comes natural to him. Jenny I’m sorry to sound so hard when you ... well, you say he loves you, but as I have said before, do be careful and don’t let him tell you how to live your life, or how he wants you to accept the life that he wants to lead. He’s a bloody womaniser, Jenny, I’m sorry, but that has to be said.”

  Jenny started to cry when Freya said that and there were hugs all round.

  “Don’t cry, Jenny. He’s not worth it, but I know it’s no use telling you that. I was in love with him myself ONCE, but that seems ages ago and I never want to think of him ever again.”

  Jenny dried her eyes and stroked her ‘bump’ with reservations.

  “I wish I had never ever fallen in love with him Freya. I really, really do, but love is something you can’t help, is it?”

  Freya brought a picture of Robert to mind when Jenny said that.

  “No, I don’t suppose you can,” she replied. “I’m off to finish my shopping now, unless there’s anything else you want to talk to me about.”

  Jenny smiled weakly and shook her head.

  “I’m alright Freya. I’ll get better as time goes by when I get a better idea of what Sammy wants to do ... for both of us ... .”

  Chapter Twenty

  Freya put her fingers to her lips as she listened to the telephone call.

  “Who is that speaking, please?” she enquired and waited for someone to speak. “Hello, hello, Can you hear me she asked again and there was a low muttering sound on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry, I can’t hear what you’re saying.” she concluded and put the phone down intending to check the 1471 number.

  To her surprise the telephone number was Robert’s and she rang back immediately.

  “Hello ... Hello, Oh! is that you Robert?”

  A little voice spoke up at the end of the line.

  “No, Freya. It’s me, Cameron. Daddy isn’t very well at the moment and he’s been trying to phone you.”

  “What’s the matter with daddy? Can I speak to him Cameron?”

  “Daddy has told me to tell you that he is O.K. but that ... wait a minute, I don’t know what he’s telling me.”.

  There was a silence for a moment before Cameron returned to the phone again.

  “Freya, I know what it is. Daddy’s voice goes funny sometimes and he can’t speak as well as he’d like to. It’s something to do with his condition.”

  Freya became alarmed when Cameron told her the problem and she looked around her, wondering what on earth she could do to help.

  “Cameron, Cameron darling, I’m coming over to see you and daddy now. I’ll give you three rings on the doorbell when I get there, but don’t open the door to anyone else, understand?”

  “Yes, I understand Freya. It will be nice to see you again. Bye.”

  Freya got ready as fast as she could and made her way to Robert’s flat. She didn’t know what to bring him, but she quickly stopped at a chemist and asked them for something for a ‘sore throat’ ...

  Cameron answered the doorbell immediately she rang and she bent down to kiss him before she went into the lounge to see Robert.

  “Don’t speak if it hurts,” she said, as soon as she saw Robert sprawled across the sofa, “but Cameron has explained the difficulty and if there is anything I can do just let me know by hand signals or writing or something,” she said, feeling so inadequate in her approach, but she had never experienced anything of this kind before.

  Robert grinned and cleared his throat.

  “It’s nothing serious,” he said in a low and guttural tone. “It’s ... it’s my bloody condition again, but I am luckier than most. It doesn’t affect me like this very often. It’s only when I have an occasional relapse.”

  Freya listened carefully and told him not to say anything more until she had made him a drink, adding that she had some cough mixture, hoping it might help. Cameron followed her into the kitchen.

  “You’re a good boy Cameron and you know best what daddy needs when he’s like this. Can you help me to help him, please.”

  Cameron tugged at her skirt.

  “It’s Sarah,” he said, “She’s been round and when she visits daddy, he often gets very angry and his voice goes like the way it is now.”

  “Sarah? What was she doing here? I thought she and daddy were finished.”

  Cameron tugged a little more at Freya’s skirt and she came down to meet him as she knew he wanted to whisper something to her that Robert couldn’t hear. “You are almost as tall as I am big boy,” she said as she straightened up, “No need to get me to come down to hear what you have to say, but I’m down now, so what is it you have to tell me?” Freya’s knees creaked as she stood up to her full height.

  “She wants a lot of money and she won’t give daddy any peace unless he gives it to her,” he whispered, as he strained to get as near to Freya’s ear as he could. “I get worried when she comes here, Freya. I don’t like her at all and I don’t think daddy loves her anymore.”

  Freya made the coffee and took it into the lounge.

  “Robert ... Cameron has told me that Sarah has been to see you. Is that why you are angry?”

  “Cameron wants to mind his own business,” Robert remarked looking scathingly at his son, but Freya scolded him kindly and put her arms around him.

  “You should be proud of that little boy. He was the one who told me about you on the phone when you were unable to do that yourself.”

  Robert pulled himself gently from Freya’s embrace.

  “I knew I shouldn’t have phoned you this morning, but I was anxious for Cameron as I wasn’t able to do much for him, as you can see.”

  Freya felt unhappy about the apparent resistance to her hugging, but she reminded herself that she should have been more careful when Robert had told her so many times that he didn’t want to be
attached to anyone.

  “What do you mean, you weren’t able to do much for Cameron?” she asked, “If it’s only your voice that has gone ... and that only for a little while, I should imagine, there are other things you can do, surely.”

  “Now you’re getting angry with me,” said Robert, “but you see ... It’s not only my voice that has gone for a walk. I can’t stand up properly without holding on to something.”

  Freya immediately felt ashamed when Robert described his disposition and she blushed to the roots.

  “I am sorry,” she said, “I didn’t realize ... Is this something to do with the M.S?”

  “It IS the M.S.” said Robert, but as I have said, I am better than most people who have this complaint. I am only affected in this way from time to time and even then, not very often. Some people are in wheelchairs and worse,” he went on, but Freya still remained sorrowful over what she had said and for having been so impatient and so lacking in her understanding..

  “Please let me help in some way,” she said, “Let me do SOMETHING to amend for my rudeness,” but Robert waved his hand in the air.

  “I will be O.K. in a few moments. I just have to stay still here for a little while until I get my strength back.”

  At this point Cameron interrupted the conversation.

  “Daddy is very lucky that he can still play his violin Freya,” he said proudly

  and Robert looked a little concerned when the little boy said that.

  “I am still able to teach O.K. as most of that is theory, but I am not the player I once was. Not by any matter of means.” he said and at this point Freya stood up to her full height of five foot six inches.

  “What I heard from the room where you were teaching Cameron on the morning of his birthday was far from lacking in anything. I thought the sound was beautiful and although you might tell me that it was Cameron who was making those lovely sounds, he could never have done that without a wonderful teacher to show him the way.”

  Robert blushed and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “You inspire me Madam ... and you give me strength,” he said as he struggled to rise from the sofa, but as Freya moved forward to assist him to his feet, he didn’t push her away.

  “If young Cameron here can get me my violin, I think I could play you a little something,” he said to Freya and Cameron ran into the other room to return with his father’s violin and bow. Robert tottered for a few seconds before he stood upright and placed his violin under his chin, while Cameron stood by with the bow.

  “I’ve got it ready for you daddy,” he said, “I put rosin on it yesterday.”

  Robert took the bow and began to play. The musical sound that came from his violin was sweet and beautiful to Freya’s ear, but she didn’t know the name of that piece that Robert played. Cameron sat tapping his toes, with a look in his eye that was out of this world, so she thought it must be something of great importance and she regretted the fact that she was so ignorant of classical music ... perhaps for the very first time in her life, as she had never ever given the matter much thought at all.

  However, the joy only lasted a few moments before Robert pulled the instrument from his chin and sat down heavily on the sofa.

  “What’s wrong, Robert,” Freya screamed as she saw that Robert had suddenly lost his usual colour and looked strained.

  “I’m alright,” he moaned, “I shouldn’t be so careless in playing when I know how much it takes out of me. That was meant to be ‘Schindler’s list’ ... did you recognize it?”

  Freya wrinkled her brow to confess that she didn’t recognize the piece that Robert played, but she was quick to explain her reason.

  “Robert, I think your playing is wonderful. I could listen to you for hours on end, but I have never ever heard of ‘Schindler’s list’. I’m not as musical as you are. I love to hear you play, but it doesn’t matter to me that I don’t know the names of the pieces. Perhaps you could teach me that some day?” she went on, but Robert did not reply as she hoped he might have done. She wanted him to tell her that she could come to his flat and stay for hours whilst he played and taught her the names of all his pieces, but in her heart, she knew her hopes were high and way above her in the clouds.

  Cameron explained to Freya that his father often had attacks like that, ever since his problem with Sarah and how he hoped, his dad would try to get her out of his life, where he was sure things would improve greatly. Freya felt relieved and anxious at the same time, thinking that perhaps she could, AFTER ALL, do something to help the man whom she now knew she loved above everything and everyone else.

  “Is this the result of your ... your condition?” she asked, trying to avoid any embarrassment about referring to the M.S that she knew Robert said he had and he nodded after hesitating for a few moments.

  “I am usually O.K. and can’t complain.” Robert went on, “Other people I know who have M.S are far worse off than I am and I keep to a strict diet of gluten free produce and I also have injections once a week. Now that, I do hate. I can’t sand needles.”

  Freya thought of her nursing days when Robert spoke about his aversion to hypodermic needles which seemed like a lifetime ago. She had been seeing Sammy when she was nursing. In fact it was during that time that she met him, but now she wanted to re-think her nursing experience and the memories of Sammy. He wasn’t important any more, but her experience of injections was becoming suddenly very important.

  “I could do that for you,” she exclaimed enthusiastically and Robert looked up in surprise.

  “Do what exactly?” he asked as Freya raised her eyebrows and smiled.

  “Your injections.”

  “My injections? What are you? A doctor?” he enquired.

  “I was a nurse before I became a waitress and I have lots of experience where I used needles for injections. Where do you have it?”

  Robert laughed.

  “If I told you I had it in my arse, would you believe me?”

  Freya grinned.

  “Yours won’t be the first arse I’ve seen on the end of a needle,” she commented dryly as she began to roll up her sleeves, “But for you to inject yourself in your arse, you’d have to be a bloody contortionist, mate.”

  “Don’t be daft. I was having you on and I’m particular who takes shots at my rear end,” he said and she laughed again.

  “Where then?”

  “In my thigh if you must know, but I can manage O.K. It’s not the technique that bothers me. It’s the bloody needle itself. I hate the things, but when I’ve downed a bottle of rich red wine, I can manage it better, if a bit off mark.”

  Freya looked at him sorrowfully.

  “I’m cheaper than a bottle of wine,” she said and looked at him with large eyes.

  “It’s a very long and sharp needle,” he said, “I would say it’s about two inches long and the pre-filled syringe has to be kept in the fridge.”

  Freya stroked her brow as she looked at the ceiling. “Beta Interferon?” she asked and Robert nearly fell off his chair in surprise.

  “How did you know that?” he asked and again Freya shook her head as if to recall her thoughts.

  “Well ... You have M.S don’t you?” she asked, even if she knew the answer to be ‘yes’.

  “Yes, I have, but how did you know what injections I would have?”

  “I told you I was a nurse for some time and it was a good guess as to what you would have to have. Actually I have thought about Beta Interferon for some time now, but I didn’t mention it as I thought you might be on it. How often do you have to have these injections?”

  Robert swallowed hard as if he found it hard to remember.

  “Once a week,” he said, “Usually on a Friday evening and I drink the wine before I start. Then I stick the bloody thing in and scream. There’
s nobody around but Cameron and he is used to me hollerin’, aren’t you son?”

  Cameron nodded and looked at Freya with admiration of the art that she had obviously conquered.

  “Can you really do that for daddy?” the little boy asked and Freya grinned.

  “And he won’t feel a thing, I promise,” she added, “And he won’t need to drink a bottle of wine either, but I thought you should be at school now, instead of being here to look after your father as you do, eh?” Cameron grinned and turned his face up to Freya’s with a cocky expression.

  “I’m on holiday from school,” he said, adding that it was the school summer holidays and he would be able to stay with his father for a very long time. With that, Freya threw back her shoulders and Cameron knew she was happy with what he had told her as she went to the fridge to examine the needle and stuff that Robert would have to inject.

  “Friday, you say,” she asked again and Robert lowered his head.

  “Yea, but it means me sitting around in my drawers as I can’t do it with my trousers on. Doesn’t that put you off?”

  “The needle or your drawers,” she asked, jokingly and Robert smiled.

  “If you really can do it for me Freya, I would be grateful, but ...”

  “No buts,” she added, “and I’ll be around about eight tomorrow evening. If you’re good, I’ll let you make me a cup of coffee.”

  Cameron jumped with joy and Robert resigned himself to what he described as the ‘inevitable’

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Freya arrived at Robert’s flat at 7.30 the following evening to find that Cameron had the kettle boiling and the coffee grains already in a large drinking mug, covered in gauze.