The Playgroup

by Janey Fraser

  She nodded. He had put into words the feelings she had been secretly harbouring for the past five years. ‘I know what you mean,’ she said softly.

  They sat for a moment in silence. All kinds of thoughts were whirling round in Gemma’s head. She’d misjudged the man – and badly. If she had known what terrible pain he’d been suffering, she wouldn’t have been upset by some of his remarks.

  Eventually, Joe spoke in a more normal voice. ‘Do you think we ought to go back now? I’m sure you’ve had enough of hearing about my problems. After all, it’s Danny we’re both here for.’

  As he spoke, he looked down at her hand, which was on top of his. When had she put it there? Judging from the flush on his face, he was as surprised and embarrassed as she was.

  Feeling really stupid, she waited while he placed some money on the plate for the bill, and then lightly put his hand on the small of her back to steer her towards the door. That was all right then. He clearly wasn’t cross with her for that spot of sympathetic hand-holding. ‘I’m sure it goes without saying,’ he said in a low voice, ‘that this conversation is confidential.’

  Gemma nodded. ‘Of course.’ She smiled up at him. ‘I’m very flattered that you chose to confide in me.’

  He gave a curt nod. ‘You’re a very good listener. Thank you.’

  Chapter 39

  BY THE TIME she got back to the ward, Danny had fallen asleep. Sam apparently had, just this second, nipped out to make a call to the office. Before this had happened, Nancy knew she’d have been cross about him leaving Danny alone as both grannies had gone home. But not now. He’d already shown how committed he was to them by outlining the situation to his boss and explaining that he needed to spend every day by his boy’s bedside. Perhaps she shouldn’t have been so hard on him earlier on. It was all so complicated.

  That night, Sam was very quiet; something she was grateful for, since she didn’t feel like talking either. Truth to tell, as Patricia would say, she could have done without any more hospital visitors, but the following day, Billy and his mother arrived again.

  Danny’s eyes lit up when he saw his friend.

  ‘Hope you didn’t mind us coming up again, but Billy kept going on about it,’ said Brigid, ignoring the fact that her son was tearing round the ward, playing imaginary cars. ‘Sorry my bone marrow didn’t match but on the bright side, just imagine the effect on Danny if he inherited Billy’s wild ways! Mind you, I’m sure it’s my ex-husband’s genes and not mine. His mum says he was a terrible kid, so with any luck our Billy will grow out of it by the time he’s thirty-five. By the way, Lily’s mother sent this into Puddleducks.’

  Nancy opened the beautifully wrapped parcel. It was a kite! A lovely red and blue kite with a picture of a duck on it. Attached to it was a note in adult handwriting that said, ‘When Danny is better, maybe we can all fly this together.’ Then came a childish scribble: ‘Love from Lily’.

  Such a shame Danny will be missing the Puddleducks day out to the farm, Brigid was saying amidst all her Billy-directed reprimands. Then again, she continued, there would be other trips when Danny got better. Wouldn’t there?

  The following day the consultant arrived with a grey face and no bevy of medical students, to invite them into his office for a talk. Neither Nancy’s mother nor her mother-in-law were a good match, he told them in a voice that didn’t have the same confidence as in previous weeks. So far, none of the donors on the list matched either.

  ‘We’ll keep looking,’ he told her and Sam. ‘But I have to be honest. Danny’s blood count is getting worse.’ His voice dropped. ‘I suppose what I am trying to say, in the kindest way possible, is that time is running out.’

  Chapter 40

  JOE SAT AT his desk poring over the contributions to the MY SKOOL! book that he and Brian were trying to put together.

  Quite a few parents and children had come up with thoughts about why they liked school, and there were some real howlers.

  I like school but only wen its holydays.

  Brian had suggested that they kept that one exactly as it was.

  School is better than it was in my day. You can use Google to help you cheat with your homework.

  This one was from a father who was, thought Joe, being sarcastic. He had a point, however.

  I like Corrybank because we can play football outside. We don’t have a garden at home.

  That contributor had beautiful handwriting.

  I like school because my teacher loves me. She puts kisses next to my sums.

  Joe groaned. Such an old joke, and it came from yet another single mum who also had a sprog at Puddleducks and kept telling him how much she was looking forward to the parent-and-child disco in aid of the aplastic anaemia charity.

  Joe had been trying to block out his conversation with Gemma, but it was no good. What on earth had come over him, confiding in her like that? So unprofessional! Yet she’d been a good listener.

  Opening a drawer and reaching for a Bourbon biscuit (Brian’s habits had become strangely comforting), his mind drifted back to last week when he had suggested to Gemma that they both visited the Danny in hospital. It was, as he’d pointed out, surely their duty to represent the school and playgroup. Gemma had been strangely cool about the idea, probably wishing she could stay at home with Barry, who for some reason really irritated him with his crisp manner and authoritative air. Joe knew Gemma was spending many of her evenings with him.

  Then, when she’d made that comment in the coffee shop about neither of them being parents, all his pent-up grief had come pouring out, which was why he’d found himself telling Gemma his own sorry story. He’d even confessed that he intended to leave Corrybank and go back to inner-city teaching. ‘That’s a shame,’ she had said in a voice that sounded as though she really meant it. ‘I’ve enjoyed working with you.’

  So had he, he had almost added, despite their differences.

  There were footsteps outside, interrupting his thoughts. Di put her head round the door.

  ‘Heard the news, have you?’

  Just as she spoke, there was a loud noise from next door. Gemma must be using that classroom for her After-School club. What a racket with all those xylophones and tambourines! Gemma might have been a good listener in the coffee shop, but that still didn’t mean he agreed with her teaching methods. It was a pity she didn’t push times tables as heavily as music or dough craft or whatever it was called.

  ‘The news?’ he repeated. ‘What news?’

  Di’s face had the pained look of someone who was bursting to tell but was, at the same time, aware that the content was not good. ‘Danny Carter Wright has been given weeks to live unless they find a bone marrow match. Gemma’s just told me. They’ve tested all the relatives and the donors on the hospital list and now they’re asking friends to go for blood screening.’

  Di’s face was shining with self-congratulation. ‘The girls and I are going up tomorrow to see if we are any good.’

  Joe’s mind swung into action. He had enough contacts over the years, surely, to find someone who could help. Forget the competition to find the top ten playgroups. Forget the MY SKOOL! book. This was far more important. This was life or death. Turning his computer on again, Joe began typing.

  DESPERATELY NEEDED! A BONE MARROW MATCH FOR THREE-YEAR-OLD DANNY WHO IS CRITICALLY ILL.

  TESTS HAVE SHOWN THAT HIS RELATIVES AREN’T SUITABLE, SO CORRYBANKS SCHOOL AND PUDDLEDUCKS PLAYGROUP, WHERE DANNY IS A PUPIL, ARE ASKING YOU, A COMPLETE STRANGER, TO HELP.

  ALL YOU HAVE TO DO IS GIVE A SMALL AMOUNT OF BLOOD SO IT CAN BE CHECKED TO SEE IF IT MAKES A MATCH. PLEASE HELP US TO MAKE SURE THAT DANNY SEES HIS FOURTH BIRTHDAY.

  He’d run the wording past Danny’s parents, of course, and then, if they agreed, he would email, Twitter and text it to everyone he knew.

  Joe gripped his fist in resolve. Someone out there had got to be able to help.

  ‘By the way, Mr Balls.’ Di was still there. Her face reminded Joe of a pug dog tha
t an uncle of his had once had, who was constantly pinching food from the kitchen and then assuming an ‘I’m terribly sorry’ expression. ‘I was terribly sorry to hear about your resignation.’

  Was nothing confidential around here?

  ‘I mean, I hope that we did everything to make you feel at home here.’

  The woman was going red and stammering. The Joe who had arrived here in September would have snapped something back.

  ‘Are you referring to your comment about me being a cross between a paunchy northern Colin Firth with attitude and Mr Grumpy?’

  Di’s face crumpled. ‘I’m so sorry . . . I didn’t mean . . .’

  Joe put up his hand. ‘Actually, I was quite flattered. About the Mr Man bit, that was.’

  He paused, waiting for her to laugh. Oh dear. He’d frightened her too much. Immediately he felt repentant. ‘It wasn’t you, Di. It was me. I’m not that great with small children, to be honest. In my previous school, I was teaching Years Five and Six in a much tougher environment.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ve heard about places like that in London. Wouldn’t suit me, I must say. I couldn’t possibly live there, let alone work there. Going back to the same school, are you?’

  He hoped so, but his application was still being considered. Mike and Lynette had thought he was crazy to hand in his notice before having a job to go to, but he’d needed to make that decision in order to move on. Besides, he had enough savings to keep going until the following September, or even the year after that, if he didn’t get his old job back.

  Meanwhile, he needed to get on with his SAVE DANNY CARTER WRIGHT campaign. Whipping out his mobile, he began to text Nancy on the number she had given him. He had had an idea which might just help her and that husband of hers.

  Yes, texted back Nancy Carter Wright in very correct language with capital letters and no abbreviations. Anything that could help would be wonderful. And as for Mr Balls’s other offer, to let them stay in his Notting Hill apartment, that would be absolutely amazing. It would mean one of them could get a good night’s sleep while the other stayed by Danny’s bed.

  ‘That’s really good of you,’ said Gemma when she came up for a meeting about the charity disco which was being hastily organised for next week. ‘Danny’s grandmother told me what you’d done.’

  Joe shrugged. ‘Means you’ll have me as a permanent neighbour until Christmas.’

  ‘Yes.’ She seemed to hesitate. ‘So you’re definitely going, then?’

  He nodded, not trusting himself to speak. It seemed safer to change the subject. ‘How many disco tickets have we sold so far?’

  Gemma checked her list. ‘Nearly ninety. That’s about as many as we can take. And I’ve got some good news. The local paper is going to be running a big piece on the bone marrow campaign to encourage others to get tested.’

  Great. However, Joe reminded himself that it was easy to get so caught up in the organising of campaigns and fund-raising discos that you almost forgot the pain behind the cause. ‘Did Danny’s grandmother say anything about how they were all doing?’

  Gemma’s voice sounded strained. ‘Patricia says they’re being very brave. Danny’s such a lovely boy. I just can’t believe this is happening.’ Her eyes grew moist and Joe, hardly realising what he was doing, reached out and touched her shoulder very briefly in what was meant to be a comforting manner.

  She seemed surprised and immediately Joe moved away, trying to pretend it hadn’t happened. ‘Now,’ he said in a brisker tone, ‘let’s go over the details for the disco again, shall we? And after that, I need to talk about the farm trip to make sure we’ve got everything covered.’

  Chapter 41

  ‘WORK,’ SAID BRIAN, during one of their regular chats over a bottle of malt whisky in his predecessor’s sitting room, where Joe was even getting used to the dusty mantelpiece and antimacassars, ‘is the best way to cope when life gets tough.’

  He gave Joe a knowing look. ‘Sorry you’re leaving, son. Still, it was good of you to bring me this. Always fancied a laptop, I did.’ He winked. ‘Not the dancing kind though; my Mavis wouldn’t approve of that.’

  Joe gave the required smile. ‘I had a spare at home, and I thought it might help with the editing of the MY SKOOL! book.’

  Already Brian’s thick old fingers were moving at quite a speed over the keyboard. ‘You’re a good lad, Joe. Mind you, I’ve got to confess that at the beginning I had my doubts along with everyone else, but now – where did they put that Q? – I reckon that Corrybank and Puddleducks need someone like you.’

  He let out a cry of triumph. ‘There it is. The Q. Forgot it was right up there on the left. What a daft place to put it. By the way, did I tell you that I went along to get my bone marrow tested for that lad at playgroup?’ He snorted. ‘My innards are prob ably ancient enough to belong to the Natural History Museum, especially after my heart attack, but any road, I wasn’t suitable, more’s the pity. Still, thought I’d do my bit, as it were.’

  He stood up to refill Joe’s glass. ‘I’d have liked to have helped the little lad. Still, I intend to do my bit by coming along to that disco of yours tonight. No, don’t look like that. I’ve checked with my doctor and she says it’s quite all right.’ The old man winked at him. ‘Reckon there’ll be any hot totty there, do you?’

  Joe laughed. ‘You’ll get to meet my ex-wife. She’s considered pretty hot.’

  Brian frowned. ‘What do you want to bring her along for, after everything you’ve told me about her?’

  Considering he had only let slip the odd fact during their friendship and that Brian didn’t know the full story, this was strong stuff indeed.

  ‘She wanted to come over and drop off some of my things she’d discovered while having a clear-out. I said I’d be out and when I explained why, she asked herself along.’

  Brian nodded knowingly. ‘I reckon you’re just bringing her along so everyone thinks you’ve got a girlfriend and you can’t be gay. Not that there’s anything wrong with batting for the other side, mind. My nephew’s just gone out.’

  Come out, Joe wanted to say. But as he gave a wry smile, he couldn’t help thinking that Brian was smarter than he seemed. He did want to bring along a woman, but not for the reason Brian had suggested.

  Ridiculous as it sounded, he didn’t want to be the only one to leave Joyce’s house without a date. Over the last few weeks he’d had to get used to the sound of whispers and giggles on the other side of the wall between him and Gemma Merryfield. It had had a strange effect on him that he couldn’t quite define.

  Meanwhile, he needed to get on with the campaign and the book and all his other work. He didn’t want anyone to accuse him of not bothering just because he was leaving. Hell, he had even helped out with that mural which Nancy’s friends and mosaics teacher had taken over now Nancy was spending all her time in the hospital. There was so much to do! And that was the only way to shut out the constant thoughts of a rosy-cheeked boy (he had been so sure his baby would have been a son) who would have resembled him, or Ed, or both of them.

  The disco was a great success. Even Ed said so, but then again, she would. All eyes were on his ex-wife as she arrived on his arm, wearing a slinky black dress that wasn’t too short, but showed off her legs to perfection.

  As Joe watched her make small talk with the parents, including Clemmie’s mum whose face had fallen when they’d walked in, he began to wonder if this was the same person who had taken herself off for an abortion without even consulting him. She seemed so much softer now, so understanding. When he’d explained that Corrybank wasn’t for him and that he’d handed in his notice, he’d expected her to say, ‘I told you so’. But instead, she had merely nodded and said that he needed to make these decisions for himself and that wherever he ended up, whether it was in a school or back in business, his employer would be lucky to have him.

  What had come over her? A huge lump rose in his throat as he watched her bend down and talk to some of the children. At on
e point, she had looked up at him and he knew, he just knew, that finally she felt remorse at what she had done.

  ‘Mr Balls, Mr Balls, is that your wife?’

  ‘Mr Balls, did you bring your children?’

  ‘Mr Balls, would you like to dance with me and my friends?’

  Yes, everyone said the disco was a great success. But not for him. It was hurting too much. Mike had been right when he’d doubted Joe’s decision to bring Ed as his partner. He’d been wrong in hoping that he might be able to forget the past.

  ‘Hi, Joe.’ There was a tap on his shoulder and there stood Gemma, but not the Gemma he knew. This one was wearing a slinky black dress too, but because he usually saw the owner in work clothes, it took him a second to take in the make-up, the sheer tights and the shiny black high heels.

  ‘You look amazing,’ he said before he could stop himself.

  ‘Doesn’t she just!’ said Barry, who was beaming with pompous pride as he slid his arm around Gemma’s sparkly bare shoulders. For some reason that he couldn’t pin down, Joe still couldn’t warm to him, even though he was always pleasant to him when passing on the stairs in Joyce’s house.

  ‘You’re not leaving, are you?’ Gemma asked, glancing at Joe’s coat, which he’d been about to put on.

  ‘Just slipping out for some air.’

  ‘Why don’t you two have a dance?’ Barry gave Gemma’s shoulders a quick familiar squeeze. ‘I’ll get the drinks. Orange or lemonade?’

  Joe put down his coat and smiled at Gemma. He could hardly refuse to dance with her. He glanced across the room to where Ed was dancing with a small boy who came up to her knees. She waved at him but then her eyes hardened as she spotted him taking to the floor with Gemma.