by Sue Margolis
“That I would never hurt you.”
“Yes. And I suppose what worries me is that whenever I find myself at odds with Claudia, you will side with her against me.”
“But I didn’t side with her—not in the way you think. I merely thought she had a point, that’s all. I thought Sam could be going off the rails and it did look as if he stole the iPad. And the main reason I came to that meeting was to support Seb. What would you have done in my position?”
“The same. I understand that now.”
“But you need to understand something else. I can’t be under your thumb any more than I can be under Claudia’s. I try not to take sides, but when I do it is always based on a person’s line of reasoning, not the person him-or herself.”
“Fair enough.”
“So, are we good?”
“We’re good.”
“I’m sorry for everything.”
“Me, too.”
He reaches across the breakfast bar and takes my hand. “I do love you, you know.”
“This is excellent smoked salmon. Is it the wild Alaskan?”
“Stop it. I’ve just told you again that I love you.”
“I know you do.” I put down my half-eaten triangle and look at him. “And I love you.”
“You do?”
I am as taken aback as he is. Before I left home, all I had planned was a reconciliation. Declarations of love weren’t on my agenda.
“Wow. I wasn’t expecting that,” he says.
“I’m not sure I was either.”
“But you’re certain?”
I feel my face break into a smile. “To be honest, I think I’ve loved you for a while. But first Brian got in the way and then there was all this business with Sam and Seb… .”
“I want you to know that I will never try to part you from your feelings and memories. Brian must always have a place in your heart.”
“Thank you.”
He tops up our champagne glasses. “To the future. Whatever that might bring.”
“To the future.”
“So, do you have plans for this afternoon?”
“Not really. I’ve got to pick the kids up from school and then Bogdan’s coming over to give Sam a final tutorial before the tournament tomorrow.”
“The thing is, I’ve just put clean sheets on the bed.”
“That’s nice. Laundry day, is it?”
“Actually it isn’t. I changed them especially. Plus I’ve already taken my pill. Seems a shame to waste it.”
“I’m inclined to agree.”
CHAPTER
twenty-three
Over dessert, Mum makes the mistake of asking the kids what they think we should have for dinner tomorrow night when Abby and Tom get home. Sam wants to get McDonald’s or pizza. Rosie thinks we should order Chinese. Mum is appalled that they could even think of celebrating their parents’ return with junk food. Sam asks how Chinese can be junk food when the Chinese eat it every day. I agree, but Mum won’t have it. Any food prepared outside her kitchen is junk food. She is going to serve up a proper home-cooked dinner and that’s that.
“So we’re decided,” she says, “tomato soup, a nice piece of beef and strudel for dessert.”
“No, that’s what you’ve decided,” Sam says.
“Don’t you get huffy with me, young man. If you don’t like my cooking, nobody is forcing you to eat it.”
“Mum, take it easy. We all adore your cooking.” I suggest to the kids that maybe we’ll all go out for dinner on their parents’ second night home. “And you guys can choose where we go. How does that sound?”
“Good.”
“I can’t believe they’re finally coming home,” Sam says. “I’ve missed them so much. I mean, it’s been great living here with you and Nana …”
“So great that you ran away,” Mum snorts while spooning another helping of apricot crumble onto his plate.
“Please, Nana, can we forget that now? So, anyway, apart from that, it’s been really good. But I’ve still missed them.”
“Me, too,” Rosie says. “Your cuddles are nice, Grandma—and Nana’s, too, even though she squeezes too hard—but I’ve really missed mummy and daddy cuddles.”
“Of course you have, and all being well, in a few hours you’ll be able to have all the mummy and daddy cuddles you want.”
Then it hits me like a hammer how much I’m going to miss the children. Despite the hard work and traumas, looking after them has lifted my spirits, given my life meaning. They’ve been my reason for getting up in the morning. If it hadn’t been for them, I wouldn’t have got to know Ginny and Tanya. And I wouldn’t have met Mike.
“You have no idea how much I’m going to miss you two.”
“Will you be lonely?” Rosie says. “Because if you are, you and Nana could always come and live at our house.”
“I might be a bit lonely at first. But I’ve got Nana and my friends. I’ll be fine. And I think it might be time for me to get back to work.”
“Really?” Mum says. “That’s the first time you’ve mentioned it.”
“It’s only just occurred to me.”
“Don’t make any sudden decisions—not until you’re really sure.”
“I won’t. I’ll give it some more thought. But I think I’m ready.”
“Well, if you’re sure …”
Mum looks crestfallen and I can’t work out why. I get the impression there’s something on her mind, which she doesn’t want to talk about in front of the kids. I’ll speak to her later.
Sam says he wishes his mum and dad could be there for the chess tournament. I tell him that depending on what the traffic is like coming home from the airport, they might just catch the end of it.
“So, how do you feel about the competition? Are you absolutely sure you’re up to it? After everything that’s happened, nobody would hold it against you if you pulled out.”
“I’m fine. I really want to give it a go. It’s just a shame it’ll be over by the time Mum and Dad get back. I wish they could have got an earlier flight.”
“I know, darling. But cheer up. Nana and I will be there.”
“So, are you nervous?” Mum says.
“A bit. Bogdan says I’m too impulsive, that I don’t take time to plan my moves. But when Bernie called earlier he told me to watch my back, do my best and have fun. He said winning isn’t everything. I told him to try telling Bogdan that.”
“That Bogdan’s meshuggah.”
“Grandma?” Rosie pipes up. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Excuse me?” I glance at Mum.
“Don’t look at me.” She shrugs. “I didn’t say anything.”
I ask Rosie what makes her think that I’ve got a boyfriend.
“Well, Cybil said that she heard her mum on the phone to Ginny and that they were talking about you going out with Seb’s granddad. It’s OK if you are. I like Seb’s granddad. He put me on his shoulders that time when we flew the kite.”
“Yeah, I don’t mind either,” Sam says, “now that Seb and I are friends again. So if you got married to Seb’s granddad, Seb and me would be related. That’s so cool.”
“Maybe you and Seb could be page boys,” Mum says. “And Rosie could be a bridesmaid.”
Once I told Mum that I had forgiven Mike and that our relationship was back on track, it didn’t take her long to come round. She realizes that fantasizing about weddings is a far more agreeable pastime than holding grudges. Tanya and Ginny have warned me to keep her on a short leash, though. They’re worried she’s going to start putting pressure on me to turn her fantasies into reality.
“Er, excuse me, people … if I could get a word in edgeways here… . As it happens, I am going out with Seb’s granddad. He’s a lovely man. But it’s still early days. Nobody’s talking about getting married.”
“Is that because you’re still missing Grandpa Brian? Cybil said that her mum said that you’re still struggling with your grief. What’s grief?”
/>
“It’s when you get sad after a person dies. And yes, she’s right. My grief has made things difficult.”
“So, have you and Mike done mouth kissing?” Rosie says.
“Of course they have,” Sam says.
“Really? Do old people do mouth kissing, then? That’s yucky and weird.”
“Did you know that when people kiss, up to a billion bacteria pass between them? It says so in my Amazing Facts book.”
Rosie says that’s even more disgusting.
The kids seem happy to leave the subject there and ask to get down from the table. I let Rosie go, but I ask Sam to come with me into his grandfather’s study.
“What for?”
“You’ll see.”
He follows me across the hall. “I’ve got something for you,” I say, closing the door. Brian’s Death Valley snow globe—which Sam faithfully returned to me from show-and-tell—is sitting on his desk. I pick it up. “I think Granddad would have wanted you to have this.”
“Wow. Are you serious?” He takes it from me. “This is for me? To keep?”
“It is. Promise you’ll look after it.”
“Of course I will. It’s the most precious thing I’ve ever owned.”
“I’m glad you like it.”
“I love it. Thank you, Grandma.” He reaches up and gives me a kiss.
“My pleasure, darling.”
He rushes to show Rosie—me yelling at him not to drop it. “Now I’ve got something precious to bring me luck.”
“Good. But you still haven’t got me my Kinder Eggs. I want them.”
“I know. Can you wait until Mum and Dad get back? I’ll ask them for the money.”
“’K. But don’t forget.”
At bedtime, Sam puts the snow globe next to him on his nightstand.
“Good night, darling. Please don’t stay awake worrying about tomorrow. You’re going to be fine.”
“I’m not worried. I’ve got the snow globe. Even though it’s too precious to take with me, I know it’s going to bring me luck.”
“I’m sure it will.”
I kiss him good night. When I check on him twenty minutes later, he’s snoring.
Meanwhile Rosie can’t sleep. She’s too excited about her mummy and daddy coming home tomorrow and is trying to work out what present to get them. “I’m going to get flowers for Mummy and licorice for Daddy ’cos it’s his favorite.”
Downstairs, Mum is making cocoa. “You want a cup?”
“Sure… . Mum, are you OK? You seemed a bit upset before.”
“I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not.”
“I am. I got a bit emotional because I’m so proud of how you’ve coped with the kids these past months.”
“Proud of me? Why? Because I made such a great job of keeping Sam safe?”
“You are going to have to stop beating yourself up about this. Yes, you made a mistake, but you were at the end of your tether. Anybody would have done the same. The fact is that when Abby and Tom asked you to take care of the kids, you rose to the challenge. You have been a wonderful grandma. Do you remember how at the beginning you thought you wouldn’t be able to cope?”
“I do. I thought I would have to ask Abby and Tom to come home.”
“But you didn’t. You found an inner strength. And not only that, something wonderful has come out of all this. The children and Mike have helped you get over your grief. Look at you. You’re even talking about going back to work. You have no idea how happy I am for you… .”
“But?”
“There’s no but. What makes you think there’s a but?”
“Because I know you. Come on. There’s something on your mind and I want to know what it is.”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes, it does and you’re not going to bed until you tell me.”
She puts two mugs of cocoa down on the kitchen table and sits opposite me. “OK … the thing is that looking after you and the children has given me a new lease on life, too. But now that you’ve got your life back on track, I suppose I will have to move back to my place. I know it’s pathetic and I know I have lots of friends, but I worry that I’ll be lonely. And I’m not in the best of health… .”
So that’s it. She thinks I’m going to ask her to leave.
“Oh, Mum, for heaven’s sake. I’m not going to throw you out. Nothing could be further from my mind.”
“Really?”
“Of course really. I love having you here. We get on, don’t we? We enjoy each other’s company?”
“Most of the time.”
“You like cooking. I like eating. It’s a perfect match.”
“What about Mike?”
“What about him?”
“What if you two moved in together? Or got married?”
“Mum, please. You really must stop talking about us getting married. It’s way too early.”
“But what if you did? And I know you will.”
“No, you don’t. But OK … if we did, we’d work something out. Mike really likes you—even though you were mean to him. Nobody’s going to cast you into the wilderness. Please stop worrying.”
She looks like the Red Sea has just parted in front of her.
• • •
Each year, the Southern Region Under-Twelve Chess Tournament is hosted by a different school. This year Faraday House has the honor—but not the junior school. The tournament has been assigned to the senior school because it has a hall big enough to accommodate the hundred or so contestants. This is of course good news for the three Faraday House children competing. They will be on their home turf.
Sam, Mum and I drop Rosie at the entrance to the lower school.
“Good luck, big brother.”
“Thanks, little sister.”
Rosie runs off and we walk the few hundred yards to the upper school. Part of me wishes that Mum hadn’t insisted on coming. She’s hitting the Rescue Remedy bottle every few minutes to calm her nerves and I can tell it’s making Sam more anxious.
The lobby is a thicket of children—mainly boys—consuming high-energy drinks and huddling with their dads, who are handing out last-minute advice. In the alcove under the grand stone-and-iron staircase, Ginny is manning the refreshment table. There’s a long queue and she appears to be on her own. I tell Mum I’d better see if she needs a hand.
“I’ll come with you. I could do with a cuppa.” She follows me. Sam follows her.
It turns out that the woman who agreed to be Ginny’s helper has gone down with some bug. “Don’t suppose you could help man the pumps?”
Ginny hands out tea, coffee, juice and doughnuts while I take the money. Mum slips behind the table and organizes her own cup of tea. I tell her there’s a queue and she needs to get in line.
“But I thought I counted as friends and family.”
Ginny says of course she does. Her tea is on the house. Mum sticks her nose in the air—purely for my benefit—and rejoins Sam on the other side of the table. Just then Bernie appears.
“You made it,” Mum says.
“Of course I made it. I promised I would be here to wish Sam good luck and I never break a promise.” He looks at Sam, “Hey, boy-chick, how’s it going? Look at him. Tell me he doesn’t already look like a grandmaster. You’re gonna do great.”
He’s brought Sam provisions—two cream cheese bagels. Mum informs Bernie that Sam had a perfectly good breakfast, thank you very much, and he has a substantial packed lunch with him, which she prepared.
Bernie shrugs. Fine. So he’ll eat the bagels. “Now remember what I told you,” he says to Sam. “Be slow with your opening move. That psyches your opponent out, gets under his skin… . Get your pieces into the center early and don’t charge around with your queen vacuuming up pawns.”
“I know. You already told me a million times on the phone.”
“It never hurts to hear it again. And bring out your knights before you develop your bishops … and bring yo
ur minor pieces out early on… .”
“OK, that’s enough,” Mum says. “The boy is nervous enough as it is. You need to let him be.” Then she asks Sam if he’d like a doughnut to keep his energy up.
“But you said he’d only just had breakfast,” Bernie says. “If he wants anything he can have a bagel.”
“He doesn’t want a bagel.”
“What’s wrong with a bagel?”
“Nothing’s wrong with a bagel. I just think he’d prefer a doughnut.”
Sam says he doesn’t want either and says he’s going for a pee.
At the same time I’m calculating the change from a twenty-pound bill, I watch Bernie lead my mother away from the refreshment table and out of earshot. He whispers something in her ear—confiding in her maybe.
I nudge Ginny. “I wonder what he’s telling her. Maybe his hernia wasn’t a hernia after all.”
“I bet he’s got an STD. I’ve read that these days they’re rife among the elderly.”
“Don’t be daft. Why would he advertise the fact that he’s got the clap? Plus Bernie’s a nice man.”
“That doesn’t preclude him from thinking with his penis… . Now, will you please help me unpack this box of cups?”
Eventually the doors to the hall open and the children are asked to say good-bye to their parents. Mums and dads aren’t allowed in because in previous years adults have been caught helping kids cheat. Sam has told me stories of parents trying to put off their child’s opponent by laughing when he makes a move. He even saw one dad tapping his nostril to indicate to his son that he was making a bad move.
I’m fighting my way through the crowd to get to the doors and wish Sam good luck, but he’s about to go in. Mum and Bernie are with him, pinching his cheeks and presumably telling him to give ’em hell. He catches my eye, waves and then makes a shooing motion. I suspect he doesn’t want me there, making more fuss. I mouth, “Good luck,” wave back and watch him stride into the hall. As a Faraday House kid, he won’t be intimidated by its grandeur—the vaulted ceiling, oak paneling and Gothic stained glass windows. I suspect that the competitors from public schools are less comfortable. Sam sits down at a table in a long row of tables. A fair-haired girl about his age pulls out the chair opposite. The pair shake hands. To their side is a stop clock. When everybody is seated, the doors close. Inside, one of the organizers is welcoming them and going over the rules. “Right, if there are no questions, you may start your clocks.”