I stared at the amber liquid in the glass that I cradled loosely in my fingers. Michelle had poured more than she would normally and I was able to follow the sip that I had just taken all the way down to my stomach by the slight burn it left behind. I knew that Michelle was looking at me but I continued to stare at my whisky.
I lifted the glass up to my mouth and took another drink. I held the liquid in my mouth until my tongue tingled. I didn’t look up, but I did speak.
‘He said we had good looking boys,’ I told her.
‘What?’ Michelle’s voice was shaky and a bit screechy like she couldn’t believe what I’d just told her.
I put the glass down and, finally, lifted my head to look at her. I repeated what I had said.
Michelle was holding a glass of vodka and tonic in her hand and as she tried to put it on the coffee table her hand shook so much that the glass rattled against the wood. When it was eventually down she slipped off her seat and almost crawled across the floor towards me. She put her hands on my knees and squeezed them. ‘How does he know what they look like?’ she asked.
I dropped onto the floor to sit with her. ‘The photo on the wall,’ I said. As I stroked her hair I saw the question in her eyes. I knew what she was thinking.
She grabbed hold of my wrists. ‘Did...?’ she was struggling to breathe and that was all she could manage.
‘No,’ I said, ‘he didn’t ask.’
I saw relief flow over her face but that was swiftly replaced by something else. I think it was disbelief.
‘He didn’t ask about.?’ I knew what she meant even if she couldn’t bring herself to say it.
‘No,’ I assured her as I brought her hands to my lips and kissed them.
She looked puzzled and I think her mouth was starting to form the word ‘how?’.
I saved her the bother and said, ‘He’s still the same selfish bastard that he always was.’ I could understand her disbelief because, in his shoes, I was certain that I would have worked out that there was something different about Simon and I don’t think I could have stopped myself asking the question; I would need to know. Not that the shoe would ever have been on the other foot because I would never have done what he did.
Michelle allowed herself to flop against the chair she was closest to. She rested her elbow on the seat and planted her head on the palm of her hand. She started to pluck at her fringe and then she ran the hand she wasn’t leaning on over her head, taking her hair with it. The shake of her head was almost invisible.
‘No,’ she said.
‘No, what?’
She pushed herself upright. ‘No, it can’t be that easy.’
She clearly knew my brother better than I had ever given her credit for because I was almost certain that it couldn’t be that easy either. Robert had come back now for a reason and I wouldn’t settle until I knew what it was. This wasn’t over by a long shot.
We went to bed but, late in the night, when neither of us had slept, we finally faced each other in the darkness.
‘What are we going to do?’ Michelle asked.
I lifted myself up onto my elbow and looked down at her. Even in the dark I could make out her face and see that she was terrified. ‘We’re going to face him,’ I said.
She squeaked a noise that might have been a word but it was hard to tell. I held her.
Next morning, we got up as usual and tried to make the day as normal as we could.
Simon was meeting a mate in town, making the most of the last days of freedom before getting the dreaded GCSE results which would shape his future. He’d asked me the morning before if he could cadge a lift and I’d said yes but he had to be ready to leave just after eight. He was downstairs by five to.
‘I’ll see you tonight,’ I told Michelle as I put my jacket on. She nodded her head slowly and forced a smile onto her face. I kissed her gently as she stood on the doorstep waiting to see us off. Simon was already waiting at the car with a look of mock disgust on his face.
‘Shouldn’t you two pack that in?’ he said. ‘Anybody could see.’
I laughed at him and told him to get in the car.
For a while we drove in silence until Simon asked, ‘Is Grandad all right?’
‘Why wouldn’t he be?’ I asked.
‘Isn’t that why you went round last night?’ I felt him looking at me but I kept my eyes on the road.
‘He’s fine,’ I said, paying more attention than was required to the traffic lights we’d stopped at.
‘She was crying last night you know.’
I turned my head sharply but now it was his turn to look at the lights. ‘Was she?’
‘I wouldn’t have said it otherwise, would I?’
I expected him to add ‘duh’ to the end of the sentence but he didn’t. For once I let the stroppiness go. The car behind me honked and, when I checked, the lights had already turned to green. I waved an apology before moving on.
‘She went to have a bath,’ he went on, still looking out of the window. ‘Maybe she thought I couldn’t hear her over the music but I could. I could hear her sobbing so I thought that it had something to do with you going to Gran’s house.’
I didn’t tell him what had actually upset his mother; I just reassured him that his grandfather was all right, as was his gran for that matter.
‘So why was she sobbing?’ he asked. ‘You two had a row?’
‘No,’ I made it sound like it was a ridiculous idea. ‘I know she’s your mum, but she’s a woman first and foremost and if you want my advice you won’t bother trying to understand them. Crying makes them feel better, don’t ask me why, it just does.’
‘Maybe it was something at work,’ Simon said. ‘She must see some horrible stuff at that hospital.’
I made a noise that sounded as though I was agreeing with him and left it at that.
Simon put his headphones in and we travelled the rest of the journey in silence. I felt something in my chest, something that felt like a brick. Simon was a bright lad and I knew that we wouldn’t be able to fob him off. Would it be so bad if he knew the truth? It would be better than carrying a brick around in my chest for the rest of my life, and I would rather the truth came from us than someone else.
I pulled the car into a space near the library so that Simon could get out. He climbed out but before he closed the door he leaned in and smiled at me.
‘Thanks, Dad,’ he said. ‘See you later.’
I was his dad, he was my son, and I had to trust that that would be enough.
Michelle looked horrified when I suggested we should tell him that evening. ‘It’s the only way,’ I told her. ‘Think about it, at the minute we are both terrified of the truth. Robert’s not stupid, he’ll have worked out that you are the Michelle that I’m married to and that Simon is...’
‘Simon is not his son,’ she hissed.
‘No, he isn’t,’ I took hold of her hands, mainly to stop her from pulling her nails off. ‘Simon is my son, but Robert was his sperm donor.’ I used the term that she had used years earlier, even though I hated the sound of it. ‘But Robert will work out the truth and the last thing we want is him telling Simon. We are his parents and we should be the ones to tell him.’
Reluctantly she agreed. The phone rang about five minutes after. It was Mum.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked.
‘Robert wants to talk to you,’ she said.
‘Does he now?’ I said sarcastically. ‘Well, if Robert wants it...’ I didn’t finish the sentence.
‘Don’t be like that, Tom,’ she said. ‘It’s not easy for him either.’
I didn’t trust myself to say anything so I waited for her to speak again. I didn’t have to wait long.
‘He wants to know if you’ll meet him on Saturday.’
I didn’t see that I had a choice, not really, so I agreed. Saturday was two days away and we decided to hold fire on speaking to Simon until after we had spoken to Robert.
When I got to the pub
where I had agreed to meet Robert, he was already standing at the bar watching the door. He smiled at me when I walked in. The smile soon disappeared when Michelle walked in after me.
ROBERT
Mum saw me to the door
‘Don’t worry,’ she whispered as she opened it for me, ‘they’ll come around.’ She nodded her head towards the room where we had left Dad and Tom.
I wished that I could share her confidence. Tom was a chip off Dad’s shoulder and they were as stubborn as each other.
‘Oh, son,’ she said stroking the side of my face. ‘It’s good to see you.’
‘You too, Mum.’ I put my hand on her face too. We hugged.
‘Where are you staying?’ she asked. ‘You could stay here if you want.’
I had to laugh at that one. ‘I don’t think so, Mum,’ I said. ‘I’m going to drive home, I’ll be there in a couple of hours.’
We hugged again before I left and I could tell that she was reluctant to let me go. I told her that I’d be back soon. I took a step away from the door, just one, and then I turned around.
‘Mum,’ I said cautiously, not really knowing if I wanted her to answer my question. ‘Michelle...?’ I didn’t really know what it was that I wanted to know, but Mum did and she answered my question without saying a word. I just had to look at her eyes.
I needed Angie. I called her after I left my parents’ house and said that I was on my way home. She said that she’d be waiting up for me. I played music loud on the drive home, anything to stop me thinking about what had happened.
True to her word Angie was still up when I got home. She was sitting on the sofa with a bottle of wine open on the table in front of her. I took my jacket off and threw it on the back of a chair as she filled a glass and slid it along the coffee table until it was in front of the seat next to her. She poured herself a glass too and waited for me to join her. She didn’t say anything, she just sat and sipped until I could put my thoughts into words.
Do you know what I said first? It’s funny really.
‘Dad’s not dead.’
That made her smile and she said that she was pleased to hear it.
However, I followed it up with, ‘but I think I’m dead to him.’ And that wasn’t quite so funny.
Angie watched and waited for me to explain.
‘He could barely look at me.’
‘Give him time, Rob. He’ll come around,’ she said but that was easy for her to say. She hadn’t seen the look on his face or heard the pain in his voice.
‘Maybe,’ I conceded but I wasn’t sure. I’m going to say that I laughed when I told her that Tom and I had had a stand-off in the street but it wasn’t a real laugh, it was more a nervous reaction. ‘I thought he’d be pleased to see me...’ I said pathetically, ‘but he wasn’t... he said as much.’ I strung my words out with pauses between them. ‘Dad dragged us into the house... Mum was waiting for me. At least she seemed happy that I was there.’ I took a large slug of the wine that Angie had poured me. It was a bottle of what we called ‘the good stuff’, a two-year-old cabernet sauvignon. ‘Tom’s changed,’ I said and emptied my drink. I reached for the bottle and refilled my glass.
‘In what way?’ Angie drained her glass too and held it out for a top-up.
‘He’s settled down,’ I said. ‘I’d half expected him to be spending his time drinking lager shandies and scraping a living painting pictures of dogs, but instead I found that he wears a suit and drives a sensible car. He’s not the free spirit I thought he’d be; he’s a family man.’
Angie raised an eyebrow and I nodded, confirming that she had heard me right.
‘He’s married with children. They were in a picture hanging in pride of place over the mantle-piece. Three boys, all teeth and blond hair smiling for the camera.’ I knew my words had a sour note to them. I hadn’t meant it to come out that way. I know that Angie detected it too but she ignored it.
‘So, three nephews. How old are they?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘I think he said that the younger ones were eleven and fourteen.’
‘Younger ones?’ She’d been about to take a drink but she held the glass a good few inches short of her mouth and asked, ‘So how old is the eldest?’
I lowered my eyes and said, ‘He’s sixteen.’ I couldn’t look at her. When I think back on it now, I realise it was because I feared that even though she didn’t know everything yet, she would somehow work out what I thought I had.
I found myself yet again staring at a drink. She didn’t say anything for a few seconds and neither did I. A growing feeling of something momentous hung between us.
‘Sixteen...?’ she said eventually, stretching the word out so that it sounded like a question.
‘Yes,’ I said, forcing my head up to look into her eyes. ‘And guess what?’ I waited a second or two to see if she was going to have a pop at guessing. She didn’t. ‘Tom’s wife is called Michelle.’
‘Wow! Is...?’ She didn’t know quite how to put the question but I knew what it was.
‘I don’t know,’ I said. ‘I could hardly ask “is that the same Michelle that I used to go out with?” could I? “Is that the same Michelle that I got pregnant?”’ I immediately wished I hadn’t said it because Angie visibly flinched.
She began to digest what I’d told her. ‘So, do you think it is the same Michelle?’ she asked, but I knew that what she really wanted to know was, is that eldest lad yours?
I took a deep breath. ‘You know me Angie,’ I said, ‘I’m not big on coincidences and all I know is that Tom wasn’t seeing anyone called Michelle when I left and I’m willing to bet my life that he wasn’t sleeping with anyone back then either. And now he has a sixteen-year-old son. What do you think?’
‘He might have been seeing someone that you didn’t know about and, come on, it’s not like Michelle is a rare name.’
I shook my head. I knew what she was saying was possible, in theory, but I knew she wasn’t right. The look in Mum’s eyes when I’d almost asked the question had been all the confirmation that I’d needed. ‘She didn’t come after me for money,’ I said, ‘because my brother married her. Why would he do that? I never asked him to marry her. I asked him to look out for her if he got the chance, that’s all... “look out for her”, I said.’
Angie stared at me – right at me – like she was trying to look into my mind or something.
I hated myself as soon as I’d done it but I snapped, ‘What?’ at her. ‘What do you want me to say?’
‘I don’t want you to say anything,’ she said. She didn’t try too hard to hide the anger from her voice and I didn’t blame her.
‘Sorry, Angie,’ I said. ‘I shouldn’t take it out on you.’ ‘No, you shouldn’t,’ she said firmly. ‘I’m not the one you’re angry with.’ She knew me so well and I admitted to her that she was right. She let me think on that for a second or two and then she asked. ‘Who are you angry with?’
‘I don’t know,’ I said, rubbing the palms of my hands over my face.
She was determined to get a better answer out of me. ‘ Are you angry at Michelle because she got married?’ she asked, letting it rest a second or two before saying, ‘or are you angry at Tom because he married her?’
‘We don’t actually know yet that she married my brother.’
When she looked at me I thought I saw pity in her eyes and I didn’t like that. The last thing I wanted was her pity – or anyone’s, come to that.
‘No, we don’t,’ she said, ‘which is why you need to find out for sure.’
I knew she was right.
The next day I rang Mum.
‘Oh, it’s lovely to hear from you,’ she said and I could just tell that she was smiling as she spoke.
‘Mum,’ I said, unsure of how to broach the subject, ‘will you ring Tom for me?’
‘Tom?’ she sounded surprised. ‘Why?’
‘Because he’s my brother,’ I said, ‘and I need to build bridges.’ I sugg
ested that she ask him to meet me in a pub on Saturday afternoon. Judging by the suit and the car I thought he was a Monday to Friday sort of bloke so would be free on a Saturday afternoon. She said that she would call me back after she had spoken to him.
Tom agreed to meet me. We had arranged to meet at three but I was there just after half two. I parked under a tree and looked around at the other cars. I couldn’t see Tom’s. I gave it five or ten minutes and then went in, ordered a pint and waited.
TOM
We were holding hands when we walked in and I felt Michelle’s grip tighten as soon as she saw Robert standing at the bar. I squeezed her hand back, trying to reassure her.
The girl behind the bar asked what she could get us. I ordered a pint and a large white wine.
‘I’ll get those.’ Robert had his hand in his pocket and whipped a fiver out which he handed over the bar. Part of me wanted to say no but, at the end of the day, a white wine was the least he owed Michelle.
There was a free table a couple of feet away and I put my hand on the base of Michelle’s back and directed her towards it. She turned when I touched her and I saw how tense she looked, especially around her mouth. I could have sworn I saw her bottom lip quivering. I winked at her to try and put her at ease and hoped that she realised how much I loved her. I wanted her to know that I was there to support her. My wife is a strong woman but I knew that seeing my brother again would be a major test for her. I rubbed my hand up and down her spine and when I mouthed the words ‘I love you’ she seemed to relax a bit.
As she mouthed ‘I love you, too’ the muscles around her mouth relaxed enough to form a smile.
I pulled a chair out and Michelle sat down. I took the chair beside her and I tapped her knee as I sat down. Robert turned from the bar and carried the drinks over. I noticed that he held the three glasses easily between his hands. He set them on the table and sat in one of the two chairs opposite us.
Not My Brother's Keeper Page 16