by Fortin, Sue
She accelerated hard, putting as much distance between them and the ferry terminal as possible.
‘We did it!’ she cried, the relief flooding out of her. Her hands began to shake with the release of pent up adrenalin. At the first opportunity, she pulled over into a layby.
Fatimah and Asif climbed through to the front of the car. Fatimah was crying. Marcie held onto her and allowed the emotion of the moment a free rein.
‘Oh, look at us,’ said Marcie pulling away after a few moments. She took a pack of tissues from her bag and pulling one out, passed it to Fatimah. Taking another, she wiped her own eyes. She took a breath and leaned back in the seat, waiting for her emotions to settle. ‘What will you do if they let you stay in England?’ asked Marcie.
‘I want to teach,’ said Fatimah. ‘Before, I teach children like Asif. I want to continue to teach, to educate, to help children grow into beautiful adults.’ She put her hand on Marcie’s arm. ‘Like you.’
‘I’m not sure I’m a great example,’ said Marcie, feeling herself blush at the unexpected compliment.
Fatimah tightened her grip on Marcie’s arm. ‘Your heart is as beautiful as your face,’ she said. ‘One day, you come and see me teaching. You play your wonderful music for the children.’
Marcie’s raised her eyebrows. ‘You know about the flute?’
‘Yes. Asif told me about the princess with the golden hair who dances and makes music.’ She released her hold on Marcie and sat back in the seat with a sigh.
‘You’re still very weak,’ said Marcie.
Fatimah closed her eyes and leant her head against the seat belt. Marcie looked at her, seeing her in another light. She wasn’t just Fatimah the brave refugee who had fled her homeland, she was also an intelligent and compassionate woman.
At that moment Will’s phone began to ring. With fumbling fingers, Marcie grabbed the phone from the front pocket of her bag. ‘Caller Unknown,’ she said looking at the screen and then at Fatimah who was sitting up, equally alert. ‘This might be your sister.’ She accepted the call. ‘Hello?’
‘This is Maya.’ The voice was cautious.
‘Hello, Maya. I’m a friend of Fatimah’s. She’s sitting right next to me. I’ll pass you over.’
Fatimah was already reaching for the phone. ‘Maya! Maya!’ she called excitedly before becoming engulfed in sobs. Through the tears, she managed to have a conversation with her sister. Marcie might not have been able to understand a word of what Fatimah was saying, but the sheer relief and joy in her voice was evident. Finally, she returned the phone to Marcie. ‘Maya give you her address.’
As Marcie took down the post code and house number, programming it into the Satnav, she watched Fatimah hug Asif. As she finished the call, Asif looked up at her and under the light of the lamp post they had parked beneath, for the first time Marcie could see no fear in his eyes. If Marcie had ever doubted her wisdom in smuggling this mother and child into the country, it was now completely banished. She had done the right thing. She had done the human thing.
Marcie started the engine and headed away from Portsmouth, the city lights disappearing behind them.
It was a short journey to Southampton, the Satnav reliably taking them straight to Maya’s front door. It was a semi-detached, 1930’s property, situated in a quiet suburb of the city.
The front door flew open before Marcie had switched off the engine and, simultaneously, Fatimah exited the car. The two sisters fell into each other’s arms. As Marcie helped Asif from the car, a western looking man came out of the house. He too hugged Fatimah and then came over to Marcie, where he crouched down and said hello to Asif.
The boy looked uncertain for a moment but then threw himself at the man, who held him tightly. It was a touching moment and Marcie hung back not wishing to intrude on this family’s reunion.
After a minute or two, the man stood up. He held out his hand. ‘Hello, I’m Simon Pardew, Maya’s husband.’
He had no distinct regional accent, but Marcie guessed he was from somewhere in the south of England. She shook hands. ‘Marcie Grainger.’
‘Thank you so much for helping Fatimah,’ said Simon. ‘We’ve been so worried about her. Please, come in and have a coffee or tea. You must be exhausted.’
Marcie did indeed feel tired. The drama of the past couple of days finally catching up with her. The offer of a cup of tea secured the deal.
Will hadn’t been able to sit still. He had prowled the farmhouse like a snarling Doberman. His anxiety levels were sky high; a feeling he wasn’t used to. Even when in the Army, he hadn’t experienced this. Perhaps because he hadn’t cared about an individual so much. Before he had just been doing the job he had trained for. This, caring about Marcie, wasn’t in the training manual.
She should have arrived in the UK by now but he hadn’t heard a thing. He had no idea if she had made it through customs or not. The fact that the local police hadn’t turned up at the farmhouse, whilst a relief, was also unsettling. They had either given up or caught Marcie. He had no way of knowing. He’d give it another half an hour and then try to call her. He couldn’t take much more of this inactivity. Doing nothing was merely doing his head in.
As he made another lap of the living room, the house phone rang. He nearly stumbled over Poppy as he dived to answer it.
‘Marcie?’ His voice came out louder than he intended.
‘It’s okay, there’s no need to shout,’ said Marcie.
He could hear the smile in her voice. He took this as a good sign. ‘Where are you? You okay?’
‘Everything’s fine,’ she said. ‘We made it. No problems at all. Someone up there was definitely looking over us. Anyway, I’m here now, in Southampton at Fatimah’s sister’s house.’
‘Thank Christ for that,’ said Will.
‘I’m going to head off to London in a minute,’ said Marcie. ‘They’ve asked me if I want to stay but I think it’s best to go. They need to be together without worrying about looking after me.’
‘Okay, but go easy. It’s late and you must be shattered.’
‘You should get some sleep,’ said Marcie. ‘Although, knowing you, you’re probably itching to get out for a midnight walkabout.’
‘Yeah, something like that,’ said Will. She knew him well.
‘I’ll call again soon,’ said Marcie.
‘Good luck for Monday,’ said Will, although for purely selfish reasons, he didn’t really mean it. He half hoped she would come back to France.
‘I’d nearly forgotten about Monday and the interview,’ said Marcie. ‘Can’t say it’s high on my priority list right now.’
A silence fell between them. Will couldn’t think of anything to say. Well, not anything that he thought he should say. Now wasn’t the time to tell her to come back, that he missed her already, that he had fallen for her. It wasn’t fair. She had her life in the UK to rebuild. He had nothing to offer her.
Marcie broke the silence first. ‘I’d better go. I must be running you up a huge phone bill.’
‘You might as well keep the phone,’ said Will. He couldn’t care less about the phone bill. Or the phone for that matter. ‘I’ve no use for it here and you’ve every use for it there.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Marcie. ‘I can’t keep your phone. I’ll give it to Ben. He can bring it back with him.’
As he suspected, she wasn’t planning on coming back herself. ‘That will be great,’ he heard himself saying. There was that silence again before Will filled in the gap. ‘Right, well, mind how you go.’ He hung up.
Mind how you go. What sort of goodbye was that? The most awkward one possible, that’s what it was. Christ, he was such a loser. He was clearly bloody useless at relationship stuff. Caring about someone was hard. Not caring was a whole lot easier.
The following morning, Marcie woke to the sound of the intercom buzzer being continually pressed. It took her a moment to remember where she was. Her London flat. She stumbled out of bed and into the l
iving room where she picked up the handset. ‘Hello.’
‘It lives!’ It was Ben’s voice. ‘You going to let me in?’
Marcie pressed the door release button and went back to grab her dressing gown, flicking the kettle onto boil as she did so.
‘You’re up early,’ said Marcie as she opened the internal door to the flat and let Ben in.
‘Needed to make sure you were all right.’
‘As you can see, I’m here in one piece.’ She took two mugs from the cupboard and dropped a tea bag in each.
‘Just as well,’ said Ben taking a seat at the breakfast bar. ‘It’s okay, you don’t have to explain what happened. I’ve been on the phone to Will this morning and he’s told me everything.’
Marcie hoped Will hadn’t actually told Ben everything. She didn’t need a lecture from her brother about sleeping with one of his mates. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said.
‘It’s okay. No real harm done in France,’ said Ben. ‘I’ve also been on the phone to the local police and Yves, placating them. To be honest, they’re just happy that your friends have gone.’
‘Are you cross with me?’ Marcie poured the water into the cups.
‘Not cross,’ said Ben. ‘Not now, anyway. Probably just as well I knew nothing about it beforehand. I think I would have gone grey overnight. What happens to the woman and her son now?’
‘They can claim asylum. They’ve got a good chance of being allowed to stay, especially as Fatimah’s sister is already living here. She’s married to an Englishman.’
‘I hope it works out for her.’
‘We’re going to keep in touch,’ said Marcie. ‘She’s a lovely woman and deserves a new start. And so does her son.’
As they drank their tea, Ben brought Marcie up to date with Lisa’s mother.
‘She’s making good progress but it’s going to be some time before she’s fully recovered,’ he said. ‘Lisa’s in no hurry to leave her. In fact, she’s talking about staying here over Christmas.’
‘It’s only natural,’ said Marcie. ‘What will you do?’
‘I’ll probably stay too. Don’t really want to spend Christmas on my own in France with just Will and Poppy for company.’
‘What about Will?’ said Marcie. She didn’t like the thought of Will on his own over the festive period.
‘I’ll speak to him again later,’ said Ben. ‘He’s welcome to stay at The Retreat. I don’t think he’s any particular desire to see his family.’
‘But he’ll be there on his own,’ said Marcie. ‘You can’t count the dog as proper company.’
Ben gave a laugh. ‘Will’s a grown man, I’m sure he can manage. In fact, knowing him, he’ll probably relish the solitude.’ Ben gave Marcie a sideways glance. ‘You seem very concerned about him.’
Marcie shrugged and looked out of the window. ‘Just don’t like the thought of anyone alone at Christmas,’ she said trying to sound casual.
‘Speaking of alone at Christmas,’ said Ben. ‘What are you doing? You know you have an open invitation to come and stay with us and Lisa’s parents. Goes without saying.’
‘I know, thanks,’ said Marcie. She smiled at her brother. ‘To be honest, I had planned on staying in France but now you won’t be there and I’ve got this job interview next week, I’m not sure what to do.’
‘Come to us, then,’ urged Ben. ‘Lisa will be delighted to see you. Don’t get me wrong, she loves her mum, but twenty-four-seven …’ He left the sentence unfinished.
‘Okay,’ said Marcie. ‘I’ll do that. It will be nice to see Lisa. Thanks.’ She forced a smile but was aware that although her acceptance was gracious, deep down it was with reluctance.
Chapter Thirteen
Marcie spent most of Sunday packing up her belongings in the flat. It was a good way to distract herself from thinking about Will. Or so she thought. Emily had come over to help her with the packing and although they chatted away, Marcie was aware she wasn’t totally committed to the conversations as her thoughts drifted back to Will. Once or twice she had to make a conscious effort to tune back into what Emily was saying. Just as well Emily could talk nineteen to the dozen.
‘So, all the stuff you’re keeping is on this side,’ said Emily placing her hands on her hips as she surveyed the room. ‘And all the stuff that’s going into storage is over there.’
‘Yep. That’s about it,’ said Marcie. Ben had asked Lisa’s parents if she could store her furniture and belongings in their garage, to which they had kindly agreed. The rest of her possessions, all four boxes and two suitcases, she was taking to Emily’s with her. Marcie was officially moving in with her today.
‘I’m sorry I haven’t got more space,’ said Emily. ‘I feel a bit guilty making you leave most of your things in storage.’
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Marcie. ‘I really appreciate your help.’ She looked over at the boxes she was taking with her. If she was really ruthless, she could probably half the amount again. It would be easier transporting it to France that way. She shook the random thought from her mind, not quite sure where it had appeared from.
‘You look miles away,’ said Emily. ‘You okay?’
‘I’m fine,’ said Marcie quickly She hadn’t told Emily about Will. There had seemed little point. At the end of the day, what happened between her and Will was no more than a holiday romance. There was no future for them, despite what Fatimah had said.
‘Are you worried about tomorrow, you know, the interview?’ said Emily. ‘There’s really no need. They’re just going through the motions. You know what it’s like.’
Marcie summoned up a smile. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘I still want to make a good impression.’
‘What you need is a distraction,’ said Emily. ‘Come on, I think we’ve earned ourselves a drink after all our hard work.’
Marcie allowed Emily to take her along to the local wine bar. To be honest, she just felt like having a long hot soak and curling up on the sofa with a book. She knew Emily too well to think that would be a possibility. Perhaps she just needed time to settle back into the busy London scene. It was certainly different to what she had been used to for the past couple of months.
As Marcie sat nursing a glass of wine, Emily chattered away about her work, telling Marcie all the office gossip in her own version of Who’s Who. Marcie tried to look attentive and, indeed, take an interest, she was, after all, going to be working with these people soon.
‘That’s the low down on your future work colleagues,’ said Emily. ‘I suppose, I’d better cover the boring bits now, just in case you get asked about them tomorrow.’
‘Boring bits?’
‘Yes, things like, targets and sales.’
‘Yuk,’ said Marcie. ‘Targets and sales are swear words in my book. Have I really got to face all that?’
‘Don’t worry, you’ll soon learn all the short cuts and tips of the trade,’ said Emily. ‘All the ways to beat the system. For example …’
Marcie could feel herself switching off. Emily’s chirpy voice faded into the distance.
For the first time in over two months, Marcie dressed in a smart business suit and a pair of high heels, ready for the interview that morning. She couldn’t say she had missed either. Living in cargo trousers and trainers or walking boots all the time in France had been liberating. As had not wearing any make-up. Today, she felt restricted and false.
‘Looking good, girlfriend,’ said Emily as Marcie came into the kitchen. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘About what? The clothes or the interview?’ said Marcie, smoothing her skirt down. ‘I feel like I’ve been stuffed into a straitjacket. As for the interview, I’m trying not to think about it.’
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Emily. ‘Just relax, remember they want you.’
Marcie swiped a slice of toast from Emily’s plate. ‘They might not after this morning.’
‘You could try smiling?’
Marcie threw a sarcastic smile at her friend. ‘Bet
ter?’
Emily gave Marcie an old fashioned look of reproach, which Marcie chose to ignore.
She wandered over to the Christmas tree, gazing at the silver baubles. If only they were crystal balls and she could see into the future. She so didn’t want to go for this interview. What if she was offered the job? After listening, and sometimes half listening, to Emily last night going on about her work, Marcie was more and more certain it wasn’t where she really wanted to be. If she was offered the job, and she accepted it, she would be sucked back into the corporate world. One where numbers, statistics, performance and targets were king. If Marcie had learned anything during her time in France, it was that material things weren’t important. People were.
‘Marcie.’ Emily’s voice broke her thoughts. ‘Are you sure you’re okay? I don’t think you heard a word I just said. You need to relax, otherwise the interview is going to be a complete write-off. I know I said the job was yours, but you’ve still got to put some effort in. At least pretend to be enthusiastic.’
Marcie turned to Emily. In a moment of clarity, she knew what she had to do.
‘Don’t hate me,’ she said going over to her friend and hugging her.
Emily held Marcie at arm’s length. ‘What are you going on about?’ She gave Marcie a little shove. ‘Have a cup of tea and try to focus on today.’
‘No, you don’t understand,’ said Marcie. ‘I’m not going for the interview. I’ve changed my mind.’
Emily looked at Marcie and gave a laugh. ‘Are you having one of your crazy five minutes?’
‘Not at all. In fact, this is the best, most sensible idea I’ve ever had.’ Marcie kicked off her high heels. ‘You can have them. I won’t be needing them anymore.’ Then she slipped off her jacket and headed out of the kitchen, down the hallway to the spare room she had slept in the night before.
Emily tottered down the hall after her. ‘Marcie, have you gone raving mad? Is this a joke? Because if it is, it’s not actually funny.’ She followed Marcie into the room. ‘You can’t not go. You need this job.’