Happily Never After_A laugh-out-loud romantic comedy

by Emma Robinson

  Two minutes away. ‘Mum. You couldn’t have known that. Don’t feel bad. How is George?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen him. Flo offered to take some meals into him but he’s been staying with Karen. What should I do, Rory? He made it quite clear that it wasn’t a good idea for me to visit any more. I really want to see him because he must be so upset. But maybe he won’t want to see me? I couldn’t ask Karen because the poor dear has enough to think about. She promised to let me know about the funeral.’ She started to cry again.

  Rory wanted nothing more than to go straight to her mum and have a good cry with her. Every bereavement brings back old feelings of the people you’ve lost before. Sheila wasn’t just crying for George and Olive. She was crying for Frank, too.

  But right now, Rory needed to find Charlie. ‘Mum, just hold on for a bit. I’m in the car. I’ll call you back really soon, I promise.’

  * * *

  Harry’s house was on one of the rougher estates in town. Rory had only been around here a couple of times and seeing it served as a reminder that some kids had it pretty tough. Harry’s mum was a nice woman, but there didn’t seem to be a whole lot of time in her life for Harry. When they got to the house and knocked, Rory was ready with an apology for turning up unannounced. But it was Harry who opened the door and let them in.

  Once Harry had gotten over the shock of opening the door to his English teacher at 8 p.m., he was quite open. ‘I haven’t seen him since school. He said that you wanted him at home. I was taking the mick about him being a good little boy and going home to do his homework and he stuck two fingers up at me as he went in.’

  ‘You saw him go in the front door? So he went home? To my house?’

  ‘Yeah. He went in and I rode off home. You can ask my mum, I got in at ten past four.’

  They hadn’t seen any sign of Harry’s mum since they arrived, so they couldn’t ask her to corroborate his evidence, but he did look like he was telling the truth.

  ‘So where could he have gone after that?’ Rory was trying to piece everything together in her head. She hadn’t really spoken to Charlie last night because, when she’d gone upstairs to check on him, he’d told her he was tired and was just going to ‘crash’. He’d only come back downstairs to grab some food out of the fridge. Mornings were always manic, so she hadn’t spoken to him properly this morning either. She could have kicked herself. Offering to go to bed early was clearly a sign of something being up. Idiot.

  Harry shrugged. ‘I’m really sorry, Miss, but I haven't got a clue.’

  When they were back in the van, John and Rory tried to work out where to go next. John tapped the steering wheel. ‘Did something happen last night? Did you have an argument about anything?’

  ‘No. I barely saw him. To be honest, I was preoccupied with Mum. We were having a heart to heart. I was asking her what she thinks will happen when Olive dies, and she said…’ Rory trailed off and an expression of horror came over her face. ‘Oh John, he can’t have overheard and thought I was talking about his mum?’

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The ward was quiet, the lights down low. The only noise was the beep from the monitors and the occasional shuffle or groan from a patient. Rory had got special permission from the ward sister to sit with Charlie’s mum long after visiting hours had finished. They had notified the police about Charlie’s disappearance, but Rory was clinging to the idea that he would turn up at the hospital eventually. She’d left at note at home to ask him to call her if he went back there, but she knew he was more likely to come here.

  She and Charlie’s mum had gone through a list of all the places Charlie might be. The park. Harry’s house. The flat he shared with his mum. All the places that Rory had already checked. Rory and John had already checked.

  After her performance over the kitchen, Rory was surprised that John had been so quick to help her. Mind you, that could just be because he liked Charlie so much. It had nothing to do with Rory, really. But he hadn’t even been narky with her – he’d been in the same level mood as always. It was possible that he hadn’t even noticed how awkward and annoyed she’d been when she’d asked him to leave the other week. Or was it that he hadn’t really cared?

  Now wasn’t the time to think about John Prince, though. Charlie’s mum was motionless on her pillow, but her eyes darted around. They settled on Rory. ‘I feel so helpless.’

  Rory took her hand. ‘Me too. I’ll go back home and get my car, start driving the local streets. Maybe he’s just walking around.’

  Charlie’s mum shuddered. ‘I can’t bear the thought of him out this late. I told him that the last time.’

  Rory couldn’t bear it either. In the past, Charlie had run from foster carers to be with his mum. This time he was running from Rory. What had she done?

  She stood and took her coat from the back of her chair. Then Charlie turned the corner into the ward.

  When he saw Rory, he stopped short and scowled. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Rory almost cried with relief, but she didn’t want to scare him off. ‘I’ve been searching for you. We were worried sick.’

  Charlie leaned over the side of his mum’s bed to kiss her and she put her arms around him and held him close. ‘We were really worried about you this time, love.’

  ‘I’ve told you that you don’t need to worry about me. I can take care of myself. I always have.’ Charlie extricated himself from his mum’s arms and stood stiffly beside the bed with his back to Rory.

  Rory wanted to explain before he took off again. ‘Charlie. I think I know why you left, but you got the wrong end of the stick.’

  Charlie glanced at her and then turned his eyes towards the floor. ‘Nice try, Miss. But I’m not as stupid as you think. I heard what you said about…’ He trailed off. Not able to bring himself to say the words in front of his mum.

  ‘Charlie, listen to me.’ His mum took his arm and pulled him towards her, then placed a hand on either side of his face, making him face her. ‘Rory wasn’t talking about me last night. I am not going to die. This bloody disease might render me incapable of always being the mum I want to be, but it is bloody well not going to take me away from you. I promised you. Didn’t I? When we left. It was you and me, together. That hasn’t changed.’

  ‘I was talking about my mum’s friend, Charlie.’ Rory’s throat was tight but she managed to speak. ‘An old lady with Alzheimer’s disease, not your mum. Why did you run off like that without saying anything?’

  Charlie looked unsure whether to believe them or not. His lip quivered but he stuck his chin out to calm it. ‘I heard you talking and your mum saying she wouldn’t want to look after someone new.’

  ‘We weren’t talking about you,’ Rory sighed, exhausted with relief and emotion. ‘And we would never say we can’t look after you; you have a room at our house whenever you need it.’ She looked at Charlie’s mum. ‘You are both welcome there.’

  Charlie’s mum smiled at her weakly. ‘Thank you. But I’m coming home soon.’ She looked at Charlie. ‘No more running, eh Charlie? We’ve done our running for one lifetime. Time to start trusting people again.’

  After making him promise that he would come home with her, Rory made herself scarce so that Charlie could have a private chat with his mum. Still not sure she had his trust, she waited outside the ward doors; unless he climbed out of the window, he would have to go past her to leave. While she waited, she tried again to call Belle but couldn’t get reception on her mobile on the ward. She smacked the screen and shook it hard. As if that was going to make a difference. Stupid bloody phone.

  Ten minutes later, Charlie came out and they headed to the hospital exit to call a cab. As they got nearer to the front door, Rory could hear the ambulance sirens; their wail still cut through her like a rusty knife.

  Charlie coughed. ‘Look, Miss, I mean, Rory: I’m sorry and everything. About tonight.’

  Rory took heart from the fact he was using her name again. She
put a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m sorry that our conversation made you feel like that. It was just bad luck. But your mum is right, you have to trust me, Charlie. You have to be able to tell me things. I’m on your side.’

  They had reached the reception area and the outside door, but Charlie slowed to a standstill and began to scuff his foot back and forth across the doormat, staring at the ground. When he spoke, his voice was full. ‘I know that you are. I am grateful. Honest.’

  Rory’s eyes filled. It was this place. It always made her emotionally unstable. She didn’t trust her voice, so she nodded. What she wanted to do was take Charlie in her arms and squeeze him tightly.

  It was a while after visiting time now, so the reception area was empty. The shutters were down on the hospital shop and the chairs stood to attention, awaiting their next round of human misery and hope in the morning. Rory’s teacher sense made her realise that Charlie had more to say. He was still staring at his feet as he dragged the toe of his shoe backwards and forwards. He’d need new ones soon. This was new to her, the way boys went through clothes. Belle had been such an easy child to care for. Although she was certainly making up for lost time now.

  All Rory wanted to do was get home, speak to Belle on the phone and collapse into bed. But she couldn’t pass up this opportunity to listen. ‘Do you want to sit down for a minute, Charlie?’

  He nodded. They sat in the nearest chairs, those square, wooden, PVC-covered chairs only ever found in hospital waiting rooms. Was it some kind of sensory memory that made Rory’s stomach lurch? Surely they didn’t still have the same chairs here that they’d had fifteen years ago?

  As soon as Charlie’s bottom hit the chair, his mouth opened. ‘It’s just been me and Mum these last two years. Since we… moved here. It’s just us, no nan or grandad or aunts or anything.’

  Rory needed to tread carefully. ‘It’s quite a long way for them to come, I suppose. It’s Yorkshire you’re from, isn’t it?’

  Charlie shook his head. He still hadn’t looked at her. ‘No. I mean, yes, we’re from Yorkshire but that’s not why we haven’t seen them. We… couldn’t risk it.’

  He kept his head down but moved his face sideways so that he was looking at her. His eyes were red, and his face was pale.

  ‘My dad. He wasn’t a good man. He wasn’t a good man at all. He hurt her. My mum. He hurt her for a long time. And then when I got a bit bigger, he started to threaten to hurt me. That’s when we left. When he was at work one day we just packed up and came here.’ He gave her a watery smile. ‘When we got to the station, mum gave me a map and told me to close my eyes and stick my finger down. She said if it was completely random, he’d have less chance of finding us.’

  Rory put her arm across Charlie’s shoulders. ‘You’ve both been so brave.’

  Charlie swallowed. Then swallowed again. ‘But no one knows. No one knows about him. Mum never reported it. I told her to, but she was too scared. So, what happens…’ He turned his face back to stare at his shoes. ‘What happens if something happens to Mum? Will they call him to come and get me?’

  Rory squeezed him tightly. ‘Your mum isn’t going anywhere Charlie, you heard her in there. But if your mum can’t look after you, we’ll fight to make sure that you can live with me instead.’

  He turned himself into her as she enveloped him tightly and held him as he sobbed, her own tears dripping into his hair.

  After Charlie had rubbed his face with the back of his arm – ‘I don’t look like I’ve been crying do I?’ – they ventured out to find the taxi rank. The outside of the hospital was quiet. Charlie pointed across the road and Rory followed his finger to see John Prince, dozing in the cab of his van. They crossed the empty road and she knocked on his window. ‘What are you still doing here?’

  John yawned and stretched. ‘Couldn’t just leave you here, could I?’ He winked at Charlie. ‘You materialised eventually then, son?’

  Charlie blushed and nodded.

  Rory put an arm around his shoulders and then smiled at John. ‘I think we’ve got it all ironed out. Now I just need to go home and have a hot bath. I’m annoyed that Scott and Belle haven’t called me back, though. They must have got my messages by now.’

  As she spoke, her phone finally managed to find a signal and it pinged. A voicemail from her ex-husband, Scott. Finally.

  Rory had to press the phone closely to her ear because there was some kind of hippy music playing in the background. ‘Sorry, just got your seven messages. We’ve been practising our hypnobirthing exercises so I had the ringer switched off. Did you get confused? Because you said that you were looking for Belle, but she’s not due to stay at ours until the weekend? Call me back and let me know everything is fine.’

  Rory looked at the message log. Scott had left that message four hours ago. An icy shiver crept down her spine for the second time that evening. Where the hell was Belle?

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  When you bring your baby home from the hospital, you drive home as if you have eggshells on the roof. As they grow, you stand beneath the climbing frame ready to catch them, hold their hand tightly when you cross a busy road. Before you know it, they get bigger and more independent and you have to trust that you have done your job well.

  Rory had been proud of the job she’d done on Belle. She was a sensible girl. Caring, bright and sensible. She’d never given Rory cause to worry like this in the past. What had happened to her? That boy.

  John wouldn’t hear of it when Rory had asked him to drop her back to her car. ‘No way. You’re in no fit state to drive and I want to see she’s all right too.’

  They dropped Charlie home with strict instructions to call them if Belle appeared. Then Rory called Fiona’s house and got an answer machine. Then she tried Fiona’s mobile number which – thank God – she’d saved onto her own mobile when the girls had gone on a school trip last year. Belle had always been forgetting to charge her phone in those days. Not any more. The damn thing was welded to her hand.

  Fiona didn’t answer. So Rory sent her a text: Are you with Belle?

  What an idiot. Why hadn’t she questioned it when Belle had told her she was staying at Scott’s? She never stayed over at her dad’s mid-week. It was easy enough for her to get to college from there, but she preferred to go from home where all her stuff was. Idiot. Idiot. Idiot.

  John glanced at her. ‘Why are you slapping your own head?’

  Rory hadn’t realised that she was. ‘Partly to punish myself. Partly to try and get my brain to work.’

  John’s strategy was more logical. And slightly less physical. ‘What other friends does she have? Who else might know where she is?’

  Of course Belle had other friends than Fiona, but right now Rory couldn’t think who they were. She hadn’t really been speaking about anyone else other than Alfie lately. She’d made some offhand references to ‘new friends’ that Rory ‘wouldn’t know’ but life had been so busy – the house, school, Charlie – Rory hadn’t had a chance to really find out who they were. She thought back to Harry’s invisible mother. Maybe Rory was just as bad?

  They’d used to talk all the time. Long afternoons shopping or evenings drinking hot chocolate – always with a tiny marshmallow for each year of Belle’s life. When had that changed?

  Rory was a terrible mother. She was a neglectful mother. This was all her fault.

  The phone was ringing. It was Fiona. A very tearful Fiona.

  ‘My mum says I have to call you.’

  Thank God. Rory vowed silently never to resent Fiona’s smug, irritating, know-it-all mother ever again. ‘Is Belle with you? Do you know where she is? What’s going on? Is she with that boy?’

  John put a hand on her knee. ‘Let her speak.’

  Fiona was sniffling down the phone. ‘I told her not to go. I told her you’d find out. I told her…’ She started to cry again.

  Another icy chill crept down Rory’s spine. What the hell was going on?

  There was a muf
fled noise and some muttering at the other end of the line.

  ‘Hello? Rory? This is Michelle. I understand you’re looking for Belle?’

  ‘Yes. Do you know where she is?’

  More muffled conversation. ‘According to Fiona, she’s at Alfie’s house. Apparently, his parents are away for the night.’ Michelle paused. ‘Some parents don’t seem to keep their children on a very tight rein.’

  The judgement poured into Rory’s ear. Ordinarily, she would have had a sarcastic reply, but this woman was her saviour right now. ‘Do you know where he lives?’ She would have got down on her knees and begged if she had to.

  ‘Fiona does. I’ll put her back on.’

  * * *

  The address wasn’t far and they were there in a matter of minutes. John’s van could move faster than Rory had expected. Maybe she was giving it extra power from the steam coming out of her ears.

  ‘If he has so much as touched her…!’

  John continued to be the voice of reason. ‘You need to calm down. Wait and see what Belle says. Whatever is going on, you need to play it cool in front of him.’

  Rory nearly snapped her neck, her head spun so fast in John’s direction. ‘Cool? Are you serious?’

  John remained calm. ‘She’s sixteen, Rory. You can’t humiliate her in front of her boyfriend.’

  Rory liked John. And he was doing her a big favour by driving her around at – she peered at the dashboard – almost midnight. But parenting advice? Really?

  ‘You don’t have a clue what it’s like to be a parent.’

  ‘No. I don’t’ He sounded sad. But she had no time to worry about him.

  * * *

  Alfie’s house was large and grand. There were even sweeping steps up to the front door. Of course his house was like this. He’d be some arrogant little prince, used to getting his own way. Rory knew the type and she hated them. She hated him.