The Gift of Friends

by Emma Hannigan

As she followed the path through the park, Betsy spotted Graham sitting on a bench. He looked stressed to the hilt and very alone, and Betsy’s heart went out to him. Arnie was nearly asleep, so she pushed the buggy over to the bench.

  ‘Mind if I join you?’

  Graham looked up tiredly. ‘No, it’s fine. Sit down, Mum.’

  She sat, rolling the buggy back and forth as she tried to think of how to get through to her son. In the end, she didn’t have to, because he started talking and it was clear he’d been doing a lot of thinking.

  ‘I’m so sorry about all this, Mum,’ he said suddenly, taking her by surprise. ‘I know you’re trying really hard and this situation is tough, and I know you love Arnie as much as I do and you’re just thinking of him. It’s just hard, you know, because Tash is so set in her ways. She won’t hear of us living any other way. It’s her way or no way.’

  Betsy took a deep breath. ‘She’s difficult to live with, Graham, but I would live with the devil himself if it meant being able to mind you and Arnie. Your father and I feel so blessed to have Arnie in our lives, but we just can’t bear the idea of a cold and dirty squat. It wouldn’t make him happy. And,’ she ventured, ‘I’m not convinced it would make you happy.’

  Graham rubbed his face with his hands. ‘I think I have had enough of it, especially now that I’ve experienced being home again. The problem is, I want to make Tash happy, but now I’m wondering if it’s possible to do right by my wife and my son. The needs of one seem to cancel the other one out. But I don’t want to choose, Mum. I really want Tash to come round and see that we can have a place and give Arnie a good life without compromising our beliefs.’

  ‘I really don’t know about Tasha’s beliefs,’ Betsy said drily. ‘She seems fine with handouts from us, and for all her talk of communal living, she doesn’t actually contribute, not in our house anyway. It seems to be a philosophy of convenience, if you ask me.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m beginning to question it myself,’ Graham admitted, which Betsy admired, because it’s hard to say you might be wrong about something – especially your marriage. ‘I can’t believe how disrespectful she is towards you and Dad. I’ve noticed and I’m sorry, Mum.’

  ‘You’ve no need to apologise,’ Betsy said gently. She was thrilled to see this new side to her son, it was definitely a sign of maturity. He’d been such a difficult teenager, but it was like he was finally learning to see things from other people’s perspectives. ‘We love you and we’ll help you find somewhere to live, but you’ll need to think about getting a job, love.’

  ‘I know,’ he said, sighing deeply. He peered over at Arnie and smiled. ‘He’s such a good boy. I think he’s the main reason I’ve stayed with her.’

  Betsy remained silent, because she could see Graham was working things out as he spoke about them. She was like that herself: she came to the truth by talking her way towards it. True enough, bit-by-bit Graham began to reveal his true feelings about his life with Tasha. He hated squatting, he couldn’t bear being smelly and dirty and eating out of dumpsters. He hated the drugs and drink scene. Betsy thought she might yelp when he mentioned drugs. She knew so little about them, but she did know they scared her.

  ‘What kind of drugs?’ she asked. ‘I know I should probably be all cool about it, but I’m not. I’m shocked. You’re not a drug addict, are you, Graham?’

  He laughed and then hugged her because she looked as if she might cry. He said it was mostly weed, but that Tasha was always stoned.

  ‘She even smoked while she was pregnant. We had so many arguments over that. I wanted to leave at that point, but I felt I owed it to the baby to stay.’

  ‘Oh love, why didn’t you ask us for help sooner?’

  ‘I couldn’t see the wood for the trees,’ he said. ‘But now that I’m home, I know that I want what’s best for my son. I want a proper home where he can grow up with his grandparents nearby and go to the school I went to . . . all those things matter to me now. But Tasha doesn’t give a toss. She’d live in a shoebox on the side of a motorway in Timbuktu if the idea took her fancy.’

  ‘Or if the shoebox was full of weed,’ Betsy said, elbowing him and smiling sadly. ‘We’ll work it out with you, okay?’

  He nodded, and she could tell he was so relieved to have her there. Betsy was delighted. In fact, she was happier than he would ever know. When her only child had chosen to go to live on the other side of the world, she’d taken it personally. She knew that was daft, but she couldn’t change the way she thought. She’d cried for weeks after he’d gone. Especially when she was at home on her own. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get used to him being gone. So having him sitting beside her, confiding in her, was a dream come true.

  ‘Come on,’ Betsy said, taking his hand. ‘It’s getting cold, we’d better get Arnie back to his cosy cot.’

  ‘Sure,’ Graham said, and they walked slowly home. He was lost in thought, and Betsy knew better than to interrupt him.

  At the house, Betsy wheeled Arnie inside then left Graham to put him up to bed while she served dinner. As always, the table was set beautifully for four, with fresh flowers, proper napkins and white and red wine glasses, so everyone could choose their own tipple. Betsy was a firm believer in making her guests feel like royalty, even if, as in Tasha’s case, they behaved like savages.

  True to form, Tasha only came to the table after everyone else was seated, making them wait. Then she filled her white wine glass up to the brim with red wine and slurped it down greedily. She regularly consumed a full bottle on her own each night, and it pained Betsy to see it. In her mind, a mother of a young child should be very restrained when it came to alcohol, but she kept quiet about it. Tasha’s table manners were awful, and Betsy suspected they were deliberately awful, just to make a point. She chewed loudly, spoke with her mouth full, and sat with one leg under her, often using her hands or just a fork. It drove Betsy absolutely mad but again, out of respect for Graham, she reined in her anger.

  ‘Lovely tucker, Ma,’ Tasha said as she shovelled casserole into her mouth.

  ‘Mum is so good to do this for us every night,’ Graham said quietly. ‘You know, how about tomorrow night you and me cook for them? We could take turns.’

  ‘You mad?’ Tasha said, staring at him. ‘Miss Housekeeper of the Year here loves doing it, and she’d go nuts if we were roving around her kitchen, wouldn’t you, Ma? Let her at it, Gray.’

  ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ Noel said. ‘Thanks for suggesting it, Graham.’

  Tasha pointed her fork at him. ‘Nose out, grandpa. Don’t go flattering him into skivvying for you lot. It’s your house and we’re the guests, alright? End of.’

  Noel took a very deep breath and Betsy could feel the anger pumping through his body. Even Graham looked worried.

  ‘I think we need to show respect to each other for this to work out,’ Betsy said, hoping to defuse the situation.

  ‘So what will work out?’ Tasha said.

  ‘Living together,’ Betsy said. ‘It will probably be a while before you find a place, so while we’re . . .’

  ‘I found one,’ Tasha said.

  All three of them stared at her. She looked like the cat that got the cream, smugly enjoying her moment.

  ‘What?’ Graham said. ‘Where?’

  ‘I forgot to tell you earlier,’ Tasha said, grinning, ‘but yeah, I got us sorted, mate. Found a great place. It’s a squat in the city centre, an old house on the north side. They told me it used to be a tenement, so it has this really fascinating history. Anyway, there’s a room going in it. There are mostly men there, lovely blokes, but they said they wouldn’t object to a baby joining them. They smoke and said they wouldn’t be prepared to do that outside, especially not in this cold-ass country, so I could take Arnie to another room while they do that.’ She batted her hand as if to say it wasn’t important. ‘So don’t worry, Betsy, mate, we’ll be out of your hair in a couple of days. So you don’t have to bother with the lecture on respect,
thanks.’

  Her big announcement was greeted by total silence. She shovelled another forkful of casserole into her mouth and stared at them defiantly. It was Betsy who found her voice first, and she no longer gave a fig about respect or family relations or Graham’s feelings or anything. She was so angry she felt like she was going to explode into flames.

  ‘You horrible creature,’ she yelled. ‘You sit around watching TV all day and listen to us worrying and trying to help and all the while you knew this! You are out of your tiny mind if you think my grandson is going into a tenement squat with some drunk old men. It’s winter, or haven’t you registered that fact? That place won’t have heating or electricity. If you take Arnie there, he could die of exposure . . . or . . . or a rat bite . . . or God knows what. You can’t do that to him!’ By now, her chest was heaving with sobs as the thought of Arnie in danger was more than she could bear. She was overcome and collapsed into her chair.

  ‘Jesus,’ Tasha said, recovering from the shock of Betsy’s meltdown, ‘no need to lose your shit over it. The place is perfectly fine. I’ll mind Arnie like always, it’s not a problem.’

  ‘But you don’t mind him,’ Betsy said, sitting up and leaning across the table towards her daughter-in-law. ‘I do! You sit around staring at the TV and do nothing for him. I cook and clean and buy his clothes and change his nappy. You’re not interested in being his mother. You don’t care enough . . .’

  ‘Mum,’ Graham said quietly. ‘Please don’t say things you’ll regret.’

  She knew what he meant. Tasha held the trump card here because she was Arnie’s mum. Betsy knew she had to get a grip on herself and get down from the ledge she was teetering on, or she could risk losing Arnie altogether. She took a deep, shaky breath and fought to compose herself.

  ‘Tasha, I don’t want to fight with you. I hate confrontation. But please understand that I just want us to talk about this because it’s a question of Arnie’s well-being. Ireland gets very cold and wet in winter, and he really could become ill if he’s in a building that’s damp. That’s the history of those buildings, in fact. People died there in their droves. So please, please, will you consider these angles and rethink your decision.’

  Tasha smiled maliciously at her, knowing that she was in control here.

  ‘That’s more like it, Betsy,’ she said, ‘bit of the old respect you keep banging on about.’

  ‘Tash, please,’ Graham said. ‘They mean well.’

  ‘These bleeding heart bourgeoisie types always mean well,’ she spat. ‘They think there’s only one way to live and it’s their way. You go on about living on this road as if it’s the be all and end all of your life. This place is bricks and mortar. Who gives a shit if you have spotless carpets and the whole place smells of furniture polish? I happen to hate where you live. I think it’s insular, limited and I’d say your neighbours are just as full of shit as you two morons.’ She was enjoying herself now, and Betsy hated her for it.

  ‘We want what’s best for Arnie,’ Noel said. ‘If you don’t like us, that’s fine. You’re married to Graham, not us . . .’

  ‘Gray,’ Tasha said.

  ‘Yes,’ Noel said, sounding exhausted. ‘We are happy to have you all here and happy to help any way we can. We’re not saying the squat sounds awful because we want to control you two or dictate how you live your life, but we do have to be honest and say it does sound unsuitable for a baby of Arnie’s age.’

  Tasha chewed a mouthful of food and seemed to consider it.

  ‘Alright, here’s what I’m prepared to do,’ she said. ‘How about we stay on here for another month, see how things go, and you can give us, say, two hundred quid a week so me and Gray can have a life. Then after a month we’ll see how things are going.’

  Betsy knew they were over a barrel, but what else could they do? They’d have to bargain with her for Arnie’s sake.

  ‘Thanks for thinking about it,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘Noel and I really appreciate it and we’d be delighted to continue with our current arrangement.’

  Tasha burst out laughing. ‘Sounds like you ate a dictionary instead of this delicious casserole, Betsy.’

  Graham caught Betsy’s eye and gave her a little nod. She knew he was thanking her and Noel for saving Arnie, and for not stabbing his horrible wife with the bread knife. It was going to be the toughest thing she’d ever done in her life, but Betsy could do it for Arnie.

  Chapter 12

  MAIA FELT LIKE A BIT OF A TOOL STANDING outside the gates of Danielle’s house with a candle in a little sparkly bag in one hand and a pot of jam in the other. As she peeped into the garden, she could see how much work had been done. They’d pulled up a lot of the plants and made space for the cars instead. If she were truthful, she’d love to do the same, but when she’d suggested it to Nancy years ago, she’d more or less told her that would be tacky.

  She’d gotten so much support from Nancy in the beginning. She’d been so kind when she asked for advice. Now looking back on it, she must’ve bombarded the poor lady with an endless stream of stupid questions. But Nancy never made her feel stupid; instead she’d answered and advised her without making it seem as if she was telling her what to do. She still maintained a great relationship with her. The children almost thought of her as their grandmother and they adored her.

  ‘Hello?’ said a nervous sounding voice. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘It’s Maia from number three. I just thought I’d drop by. If you’re busy, I can call back at a better time for you.’

  ‘No! Come in, please.’ The monstrous gates, which were also new, opened slowly, but as if they were gliding in mid-air.

  Danielle was waiting at the front door when she walked up.

  ‘I made a load of jam in the summer. I make things when I’m hassled or bored. Anyway, I thought you’d like it. I discovered these candles recently and I’m addicted to them! I could go home and swap them for an empty cup and ask you for sugar if you’d prefer?’ Maia said, making it a joke.

  Danielle stood blinking, clearly not picking up on what she’d said. So Maia thrust the things at her, feeling awkward. Danielle was dressed in a faded black tracksuit that had definitely seen better days with worn-out looking slippers. Not exactly lady of the manor garb. Freddie would have seven fits if she ever looked like that when he got home from work. By comparison, Maia looked like she might be headed to a flash nightclub. Her black leather mini-skirt was designer and she’d teamed it with a plain black top and sandals. For her, it was very ordinary, but she felt OTT next to Danielle.

  ‘Did I see that skirt in Bella’s down in the village?’ said Danielle.

  Maia smiled. ‘Yeah, I saw it in the window and couldn’t resist.’

  ‘I saw it too, and Justin tried to get me to buy it, but I couldn’t justify the price.’

  ‘Really?’ Maia said. ‘I never think of things like that. If I see something I like, I just buy it. Freddie will give me the money and he says it’s important that I’m happy.’

  ‘Justin would love you,’ Danielle said with a laugh. ‘I’m not used to having so much money to spend, and with all the furniture and the endless outgoings on the house, I just couldn’t justify the price tags in that shop.’

  ‘You’ll learn,’ said Maia as she tried to hide her disgust. What was wrong with this girl? She was in a position that most would kill for – living with Justin Johnston and, if she played her cards right, no doubt married to him in time. It wasn’t as if one designer outfit would leave them bankrupt . . . she needed to get with the programme. Her poor husband was clearly trying to get her to look the part. She was so dowdy and miserable-looking with her stringy blonde curls and her totally makeup-free, pale skin.

  ‘That’s so kind of you to bring a gift,’ Danielle said, looking at the candle and jam. ‘Will you come in for a coffee? My mam’s here.’

  ‘I don’t want to crash in on you and your mam,’ Maia said.

  Danielle leaned forward and whispered, �
�You’d be doing me a favour. I’m kind of struggling in here.’

  Maia couldn’t help smiling. ‘Mams can be hard work,’ she whispered back. ‘I know that from painful experience.’ Then she raised her voice and said loudly, ‘Oh thank you, Danielle, I’d love to come in and see the place.’

  Danielle gave her a thumbs-up and pulled the door open wide. ‘You’re very welcome,’ she said, stepping back to let her in.

  ‘Oh dear Lord, I’m having serious house envy here,’ Maia said, her jaw almost hitting the exquisite and understated grey tiles. ‘I would gladly swap if you want? I could arrange for all your things to be moved within the hour.’

  Danielle giggled and led Maia down to the kitchen.

  ‘Mam, this is one of our neighbours, Maia. Maia, this is my mam, Rachel O’Brien.’

  A woman looked up as Maia stepped into the room, and she clocked the look of disapproval that crossed her face. Maia was well used to women like this. They let themselves go, got a little flabby around the waist, dressed to be invisible, didn’t take care of their skin, and then they looked at Maia as if she was a traitor for looking so well. This kind of woman hated the kind of woman Maia was. It was going to be one long cup of coffee, Maia reckoned.

  ‘Hiya Rachel,’ she said brightly. ‘I’m delighted to meet you.’

  ‘Hello,’ the woman said stiffly. ‘Over for a gawk, are you?’

  Maia burst out laughing. ‘Yeah, that’s it exactly. I brought the candle and jam, but that was just to get me through the door really. Am I that obvious?’

  ‘I can see through you like glass,’ the other woman retorted, but Maia could see the hint of a smile.

  Given that there was no need to make a secret of the fact that she was here to have a good look, Maia looked around and took it all in. The kitchen and living room had been knocked through and the place was bright and spacious. She’d been here once with the previous owners – with a candle and jam in her hand – and then the décor had been dull and old-fashioned. Now, most of it was white, including the sofa.