When Bill asked if anyone was free to go and pick up a carburettor that hadn’t been delivered I got in there before anyone else had a chance. I’d made a decision during the night and while I was under that Ford Escort I knew that I was going to have to put it into action before I lost my bottle.
I never made it to the suppliers and I didn’t pick up the carburettor. About four hours later I wondered if Bill had realised that I wasn’t coming back.
After I left work I drove straight home with only one thing on my mind. I took the stairs two at a time and crossed the landing as quickly as I could. I opened the door to my bedroom and grabbed the bag from the top of my wardrobe. The doors were already open so I grabbed whatever I could and stuffed it into the bag. I wasn’t really aware of what I was picking up, just blindly getting handfuls of this and that. Whatever I forgot I’d have to buy when I got where I was going.
When the bag was full, I zipped it up, had one last look around and left the room. I closed the door behind me.
I don’t mind telling you that I was sweating bricks as I leaned against the door, and I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. I remember puffing out my cheeks as I breathed.
I dropped the bag by my feet, reached into the back pocket of my jeans and pulled out three envelopes containing the letters that I had written in the early hours of the morning when I’d finally given up on sleep. I’d known it would come to this, I just hadn’t known when. I hadn’t known that the first chance I got would be so soon, but the opportunity was too good to miss. I just had to do it.
I looked at the envelope on the top. I left the bag where I had dropped it and moved to the door next to the one that I had just closed. I stood a second or two with my hand resting on the handle and after a deep intake of breath I twisted it and opened the door to Tom’s bedroom.
It had been my intention to keep my head down and be in and out of there as quickly as I could but as soon as I opened the door my eyes were drawn to the shelves that ran along the length of one wall. I had to laugh when I saw a collection of books standing neatly on one of the shelves because, since he’d left school, I had never seen Tom read a book. He might have read a newspaper now and then but that was it. Next to the books was the tribe of apaches that had been Tom’s pride and joy when we were young and we used to play with the fort that Dad had made us. I knew for a fact that I’d long since thrown the cavalry in the bin but I’d be willing to bet that if I looked in one of Tom’s cupboards I would still find the fort.
He always was a sentimental sod.
Anyway, I didn’t have time for all of our yesterdays so I took the envelope that was at the top of the pile and moved towards the table beside the bed. I could see my hand shaking as it hovered over it. It felt like the envelope was glued to my hand and I struggled to let it go. But something else attracted my attention and I dropped the envelope so that I could pick it up. It was a red photograph frame containing a picture of the two of us on Christmas morning about ten years earlier. We were sitting on the bikes that we had received that morning and were smiling at the camera.We’d not had a care in the world.
Tom probably still didn’t, but I felt like there was a massive weight sitting on my shoulders. Before I knew what I was doing I’d flipped the frame over, unclipped the back and slipped the photograph into my pocket. I put the empty frame back on the table and left the room as quickly as I could. I don’t know if I even bothered to close Tom’s door, I just wanted to get out of there. I could feel my resolve starting to falter and I knew that I needed to do what I had to as quickly as possible.
After I’d left Tom’s room I picked up the bag I’d left on the landing and walked down the stairs. I’d gone up them two at a time but, despite what I’ve just told you about needing to hurry, I went down the stairs much more slowly.
I left the second envelope, the one with the words ‘Mum and Dad’ written on it, on the telephone table that sat in the hallway. I caught sight of my reflection in the mirror that hung on the wall above and stared at it. I could see the muscles around my jaw twitch as I clenched my teeth together. I had a haunted look on my face – was it any bloody wonder?
As I left the house that had been the only home I had ever known, I couldn’t help asking myself if I was doing the right thing. There was still time to change my mind. I could go back in and collect the envelopes I’d left. I could put the things that I had taken back. I could do things differently.
But I didn’t.I drove the short distance to Michelle’s house and pulled the car up to the kerb. I turned the engine off and sat behind the wheel for a second or two before I got out the car and took the final envelope from my pocket. It wasn’t just my hands that were shaking now, it was my legs as well. I felt them buckle a bit as I took the first step.
Once again, I questioned my actions. Was I really that pathetic? Was I really such a bastard?
The answer was obviously yes, because I practically ran to the door and pushed the envelope through the letter box. I spared a second to look up at Michelle’s bedroom window before I got back in the car and drove away. I wasn’t proud of what I was doing but I did it nonetheless.
I’m not ashamed to tell you that when I’d hatched this plan in the wee small hours I’d cried because I was sad. As I drove away, I cried again, not through sadness this time but through fear. Not because I didn’t know where I was going, but because I was bloody terrified of the type of man that my actions meant I was.
I brushed away a tear or two as I went down the slip road and joined the motorway.
TOM
I’ll never forget the day that Robert left. It was the day after his twenty second birthday.
We were a bit like ships that passed in the night but we normally exchanged grunts over breakfast except there was just Mum in the kitchen that morning. I wasn’t surprised that Dad wasn’t there because he usually left early for work but it was unusual not to see Robert sitting at the table shoving food into his mouth. I remember asking Mum where he was.
‘He had to go to work early,’ she said though she didn’t sound like she believed it and I know I didn’t. He never went to the garage a minute earlier than he had to, and he was always home within ten minutes of the garage closing at five. I should have known then that there was something wrong.
‘Did you hear him during the night?’ Mum asked as she handed me a plate that had a couple of slices of toast on it. I told her I hadn’t. ‘He was tossing and turning all night,’ she said. She went back to drying dishes but I could see that she was doing it on autopilot. She was looking out of the window for a start, which was pointless: there wasn’t anything to see out there because it was still dark. It was just somewhere to look.
I tried telling her not to worry. ‘He’s probably just had a row with Michelle,’ I said.
‘No, no, it’s not that, I’m sure of it,’ she said, still rubbing the same plate.
I didn’t know what to say so I thought it best to keep quiet. I kept my head down and ate the toast. It wasn’t much of a breakfast, but then I’m not much of a breakfast person so it did for me. I put the last of the toast in my mouth, chewed, and swallowed it as quickly as I could. I took the plate to the sink and dropped it into the water. Mum was bent over so I kissed the top of her head and told her one last time not to worry. ‘He’ll be fine,’ I said, but I could see that my words did nothing to convince her.
I know that by that point Robert and I weren’t as close as we had been but I still spared a thought for him during the day. I wondered what could have kept him tossing and turning through the night. I’d never known him to worry about a thing in all of his life so I couldn’t imagine what would stop him sleeping. I know I’d said that he might have had a row with Michelle but I didn’t even believe the words myself. He wouldn’t have lost any sleep over that. He wasn’t the type to get upset over rowing with a girlfriend. God knows he’d had plenty of practice.
I got home just before half four and nearly fell over the three bags of shopping tha
t were sitting in the hallway. I picked them up and carried them to the kitchen. Mum was sitting at the table and I asked her if she was all right as I put the bags on the work bench. It was a bloody silly question given that she’d left shopping by the front door and was sitting at the table staring at whatever it was that she was holding in her hands. She didn’t answer me.
I looked at her but she didn’t move, not even an eyelid as far as I could tell. I sat on the chair next to her and asked her the question again. She was still staring at her hands. I glanced at them and saw that she was holding an envelope. I put my hand on her arm just above her wrist and asked her the question for a third time.
Slowly she dragged her eyes away from the envelope and looked at me. Her eyes were wide and a little bit wild and to be honest she didn’t look like my mother at all.
I could hear the tremble in my voice as I asked, ‘Mum, what’s wrong?’
As her eyes went back to the envelope I noticed that her hands were shaking. I’ll be honest, by that point I was getting a bit worried and I wished with all my heart that Robert or my dad would come in so that I didn’t have to deal with whatever was happening to Mum on my own.
‘What’s that?’ I asked. ‘What’s in the envelope?’ She still didn’t answer me so I pressed her and asked, ‘Who’s it from? Is it Dad?’
I don’t know why I asked that last bit, why I thought it was Dad. I suppose I thought it was the only thing that could have caused such a reaction. Anyway, it worked, because at least it made her speak.
‘No,’ she croaked, ‘it’s not your dad.’ As she looked at me I could see that her eyes were puffy and almost closed through the tears she had obviously been crying, probably for hours. She put the envelope on the table and pushed it towards me. She pulled her hands back quickly and tucked them into her chest. ‘It’s from Robert,’ she whispered.
‘Robert?’ I looked from her to the envelope and back again. ‘Why?’
She mouthed the words, ‘I don’t know,’ but the sound never made it out of her mouth. She made such a pitiful sight it almost broke my heart.
‘What does it say?’ I really couldn’t get my head around what was happening or what she was telling me. Why would Robert be writing her a letter?
Mum tried to say the words again but nothing came out that time either.
‘Why haven’t you read it, Mum?’ I asked gently.
She brushed more tears away and said, ‘Because I’m scared.’
‘Scared?’ I wasn’t trying to be clever I just really didn’t understand but I couldn’t help noticing that it sounded like I was being sarcastic.
‘Yes, scared,’ she snapped, suddenly finding her voice, though the fight in her was gone as quickly as it had arrived. ‘I knew there was something wrong with him this morning and now this,’ she gestured towards the letter that was still sitting on the table.
‘Do you want me to read it?’ I asked.
As she nodded her head slowly, more tears rolled down her cheeks.
Dad came home from work at some point and found me and Mum still sitting at the kitchen table. I was holding Mum’s hand and two envelopes sat on the table in front of us. There was the one marked ‘Mum and Dad’ which Mum had been holding when I found her, and another one addressed to ‘Tommo’. Tommo was me – or rather it used to be me; it’s what the family had called me when I was small. I had found the letter on my bedside table.
‘What’s going on?’ Dad asked as he took his jacket off and hung it on the back of the door. He looked at his wife and then he looked at me. ‘What’s wrong Tom? What’s wrong with your mum?’ I could hear the concern in his voice. God knows what he must have thought was happening. He caught sight of the envelopes on the table and asked. ‘What are they?’
‘Robert’s gone,’ I said hoarsely.
‘Gone? What do you mean gone?’ He was as confused as I’d been. I pushed the first letter towards him and told him that he’d better sit down.
He looked at Mum as he pulled the chair out and sat down but she was looking straight ahead at the wall that the cooker sat against. He looked at me as he picked up the envelope addressed to him and Mum and I tried to force a smile but I don’t think I pulled it off. He picked it up and turned it over like he was looking for a clue. When he couldn’t find one he took the single sheet of paper out and read the letter silently. I’d read it a dozen times and I can still tell you exactly what it said.
Dear Mum and Dad
I love you both. Thanks for everything, you were great. Look after each other.
Robert
‘What’s this?’ Dad asked. He looked at me first and then at my mother. ‘What’s this all about, Janet?’
At the mention of her name, Mum’s resolve finally crumbled and she let go of me so that she could bury her face deep into her hands. As she sobbed, her shoulders moved up and down and something resembling an animal noise came out of her mouth. Dad was around the table in seconds, kneeling next to his wife and enveloping her in his arms. He was whispering something to her and stroking her hair as he gently rocked her from side to side. I felt a bit like I was intruding in an intimate moment but I didn’t know how to leave. So I stayed where I was and felt awkward.
After a few minutes Mum was calm enough for Dad to loosen his hold on her and stand up. He was still stroking her hair as he turned to me and asked me what was going on.
‘Michelle’s pregnant,’ I told him.
I could see from the look on his face that he was still confused, but then the penny dropped the reality hitting him was visible in his eyes.
‘And he’s buggered off?’ He phrased it like a question, like maybe he’d got the wrong end of the stick.
‘Yeah,’ I said but I couldn’t maintain the eye contact. As I looked at the table I could hear Mum gently crying beside me.
‘This doesn’t say anything about Michelle being pregnant,’ he said as he threw the letter on to the table.
‘No, but this one does.’ I pushed the envelope addressed to me towards him. I’d discovered the note when I’d gone upstairs to check on Mum. She’d said that she needed the bathroom but when she hadn’t come back after ten minutes I’d gone after her. She’d chosen the moment my foot touched the top step to open the bathroom door so I’d made the excuse that I wanted to change my shirt and gone into my bedroom while she went downstairs.
I’d noticed that the door to my room was slightly open which spiked my curiosity because I was certain that I’d closed it that morning. Who’d been in there? I’d pushed the door gently and it had swung open. Everything had looked as it usually did and I thought maybe I hadn’t closed the door that morning after all. But then my gaze fell on the bedside table where the photograph frame was lying face down. When I’d lifted it up, the back had fallen off and the frame was empty. What the hell? As the question went through my head, my eyes fell on the envelope with ‘Tommo’ written on it.
As I read the note, things started to fall into place, though I didn’t know what to make of the missing photograph.
Before I’d gone back downstairs I’d stuck my head into Robert’s room and seen that the wardrobe doors were open. The canvas bag that normally sat on top of the wardrobe was missing, as were most of his clothes.
I’d gone back to the kitchen and found Mum back at the table. She’d looked up as I’d gone in but her eyes were drawn to the letter I was holding. She’d opened her mouth to speak, but only managed the word, ‘Is ...?’
‘Yes,’ I’d said and handed it to her. She’d read it and now Dad was doing the same.
It was longer than the brief note Robert had addressed to our parents but I can still remember every word.
Tommo,
I’m not much of a letter writer so I’m going to make this short and sweet. Michelle’s pregnant and I don’t know what to do. I’m not ready to be a dad, I don’t want to be one, and I definitely don’t want to be a husband – not to Michelle or anyone else. I know I’m a complete shit but I’m j
ust trying to be honest.
I’m sorry for all the crap I’ll be leaving you to deal with but I’m leaving anyway.
Look after Mum and Dad and watch out for Michelle if you get the chance.
Robert
Dad took a long time reading the letter. I think he might have read it twice just in case he hadn’t understood it properly the first time. Then he put the letter back in the envelope and tossed it on the table.
‘Bastard.’ He spat the word out.
‘Bob!’ Mum was horrified.
I’d never heard Dad swear before and I tried to keep my surprise at his language off my face.
‘No, Janet,’ he said with a defiant look in his eyes, ‘he’s my son and I love him but if he’s doing this,’ he waved his hand towards the letter, ‘then he’s a bastard.’ He started to pace the floor. ‘He gets a lass pregnant and then he runs away from his responsibilities? I thought I’d brought my lads up better than that.’ He looked towards my mother whose sobs had returned. ‘Save your tears, Janet,’ he said. ‘He’s not worth it.’
‘He’s our son,’ Mum wailed.
‘Not anymore,’ Dad said and it was obvious that he was struggling to control his emotions.
‘Don’t say that, Bob,’ Mum cried but it was too late. Dad had left the room.
Mum left the kitchen shortly after that too. She said she was going to have a lie down.
I followed her and watched as she slowly climbed the stairs. It looked like she was carrying a heavy weight on each foot. I saw Dad standing in the living room looking out of the window. I opened the front door and left the house as quietly as I could. I silently cursed Robert for leaving me to deal with his ‘crap’.
I saw the curtains twitch as I opened the gate and the door was open before I had chance to ring the bell.
Michelle stood there, her eyes swollen with tears, and I knew that in the dim light she had mistaken me for someone else, someone she wanted to see. She had thought I was Robert. Disappointment was written all over her face.
Not My Brother's Keeper Page 2