by Karen King
Now it was all gone.
How had he lost something so precious so quickly?
Oliver stood up and stretched, glancing over at his father, sprawled out on the sofa, snoring. How had his life got so crazy? If anyone had told him last year that he would split up with Meg and spend the next Christmas with his father, he would have laughed at them. God, he’d longed to spend Christmas with his father when he was a young boy. Yearned for him to turn up with a present, even if it was only a toy car. Now, the less he saw of him the better.
Christmas Day had been awful. They’d had a few drinks in the pub, where his dad had managed to integrate himself with a rowdy crowd who, on finding out that they didn’t have a Christmas dinner to go home to, had invited Markus and Oliver back to join in theirs. They’d eaten with strangers – kind and jolly strangers but strangers nonetheless – who had plied them with food, drink and sympathy, and then they had staggered home, whereupon his father had immediately collapsed on the sofa in a drunken stupor and Oliver had poured himself another drink, then another, in an attempt to block out the misery of the Meg-free life he was facing.
He went into the kitchen to put the kettle on, stopping to look worriedly in the bunny pen, where Laurel and Hardy were lying listlessly in the corner. They hadn’t come to greet him as they usually did, standing on their hind legs against the mesh walls of the pen, begging to be let out. They hadn’t rushed to greet him yesterday either. Or the day before. They were clearly missing Meg. He crouched down by the pen.
‘Hey, guys, are you okay?’
Neither of the bunnies stirred.
Oliver got back up. Rabbits like to sleep in the daytime, he reminded himself. Later, they’d wake and he’d give them a bit of fuss. Right now he needed coffee and then a shower; he was still wearing yesterday’s now-crumpled clothes.
* * *
Half an hour later, showered and dressed in clean clothes, he walked back into the lounge to see his father stirring.
‘Any chance of a cuppa, son?’ He yawned.
‘Help yourself – the kettle’s in the kitchen. I need to see to the bunnies.’ Oliver made his way into the kitchen and opened the cage. Neither bunny moved. This was not good. No matter how sleepy they were, they always stirred when he opened the cage.
He grabbed some bunny treats and crouched down at the cage door. ‘Hardy, Laurel, come and get some nibbles.’ He held out his hand close to the bunnies so they could smell the treats. ‘Here you are, guys.’
Hardy opened his eyes and made a funny groaning sound. Laurel carried on sleeping.
‘I fed them earlier. I got up to go to the loo and they were making a lot of noise so I thought they were hungry.’
Oliver whirled around to look up at Markus, who had just come into the kitchen. ‘What did you give them?’
‘Some muesli. I couldn’t find any rabbit food. They loved it. I gave it to them yesterday too. You should have seen how much they ate!’
‘You shouldn’t be giving them muesli! It’s bad for them. And by the look of it you gave them far too much too.’
‘Rubbish, they couldn’t get enough of it. Besides, they’ll only eat what they want; if they’re not hungry, they’ll leave it.’
‘No, they won’t. Especially Hardy. He’s so greedy he’ll carry on eating until he’s sick.’ He pulled his phone out of his pocket and did a quick google on the effects on rabbits of eating too much muesli. If only fed occasionally it wasn’t drastic, thank goodness. They had probably gorged themselves and were sleeping it off. He’d leave the cage open so they could hear him walking about and they might come out in a while. He felt guilty that he hadn’t given them much attention since Meg had left.
‘Rabbits should be kept outside anyway,’ Markus grumbled as he shuffled over to the kettle, shook it to check there was water in it then flicked it on. ‘You could have made me one.’
‘You were spark out.’ Oliver watched in relief as Laurel suddenly stirred and looked at him.
‘Hello, Laurel,’ he said softly, crouching down near the door of the pen. ‘How are you, girl?’
The bunny ambled over to him then scampered around his feet, softly grinding her teeth as she did when she was happy. Hardy raised his head then slowly got to his feet too. Good, they’d cheered up a bit. He’d let them run around for a while now; they’d been cooped up for long enough.
‘It’s been a good Christmas, hasn’t it? How about we shack up together a bit longer?’ Markus asked as he dropped a teabag into a mug. ‘I could stay here until your missus comes back, then we can go rent a flat together.’
Oliver couldn’t think of anything worse than having his dad as a flatmate. ‘I told you last night, I’m moving to Cheshire. I’ve been offered a job there,’ he said. ‘And I’m actually going early tomorrow so I could really do with you out so I can sort the house out and pack my things. Sorry.’
‘You’re turfing me out?’ Markus looked aghast then surprised. ‘Why the hell do you want to go and live in Cheshire?’
‘Because it’s a fantastic job and I need to get away, Dad. I need to make a fresh start.’ Laurel was licking his ankles now, and Oliver bent down and stroked her. ‘I’m sorry but I can’t put you up any longer. Haven’t you got a friend you can stay with?’
Markus scowled. ‘I can’t believe you’re doing this to your old man.’
‘Dad, I’m in a difficult situation and I don’t owe you anything. You walked out on me when I was a kid.’
‘And you’re never going to let me forget it, are you?’ A sullen look crossed Markus’s face. ‘I’ve got a mate I can stay with but I can’t leave today; there’s no trains and hardly any buses and I don’t have any money for taxi fare.’
Oliver was at the stage where he just wanted his dad to go, so he took his wallet out of his pocket and handed him fifty pounds. ‘There, that should be enough for a taxi. I need you to leave this afternoon.’
‘Can’t wait to get rid of me, can you? Charming, that is.’ Markus grabbed the notes and shoved them in his pocket. ‘I don’t suppose you can give me a bit more for food?’
Oliver hesitated. His father had seemed to have plenty of money on him yesterday when he’d been buying rounds of drinks. He took another twenty out of his wallet. ‘Sorry, that’s all I have.’
‘That’ll have to do then. Thanks, son. I’ll go and freshen up and be on my way.’
Markus disappeared up to the bathroom just as Oliver’s phone rang. It was his mother. She had tried to phone him on Christmas Day when he and his dad had been out. Oliver had sent her a quick ‘Merry Christmas’ text and promised to phone back later. With all the partying, he’d never got round to it.
‘Miriam told me that she saw you with your dad in the pub yesterday,’ she said before he could even say, ‘Hi, Mum.’
Miriam? He searched his mind for someone he knew called Miriam, but his mum was still talking. ‘She said you were both drunk. I guess that’s why you didn’t call me back. What’s going on, Olly?’
Okay, so Miriam was one of the locals. His mum seemed to know someone wherever he went.
‘Meg’s walked out and then Dad turned up on my doorstep saying he had nowhere to go so I let him stay for Christmas,’ he said flatly. ‘He’s leaving in a few minutes. I’ve called him a taxi.’
‘What?’ It was almost a squeak. ‘Why did Meg walk out? When? Have you been playing away?’ He could hear the suspicion in her voice. Nice that she assumed it was all his fault.
‘Nearly two weeks ago. And no I haven’t. She wants kids and I don’t––’
‘Why on earth not?’ his mum interrupted.
God, this is nothing to do with anyone except for me and Meg. ‘I don’t want to talk about this, Mum.’
‘Did you even talk about it to Meg? She’s a lovely girl, Olly, and you’re mad about her. You know you are. So where has this come from?’
‘We want different things, Mum. Nothing I can do about that,’ he replied. ‘Anyway, I was going to call
you today to let you know I’m moving away tomorrow. I’ve got a job in Cheshire.’
‘What!’ This time it was a yell. ‘What are you playing at, Oliver? You can’t move away, you need to sort things out with Meg.’
He took a deep breath. Why did mothers always think they knew best? And honestly, with her track record, his mum had no right to give him relationship advice. ‘It’s sorted, Mum. Meg is moving back into the house until it’s sold. I’ll give you my new address as soon as I’ve moved in.’
Silence. Well, that’s unusual for Mum.
‘Oliver, please don’t be like your father and run away as soon as you hit a problem. Please sort this out.’
‘I didn’t run away, Mum. Meg did. And it’s because I don’t want to be like my father that I’m not going to have any kids. I don’t want them to have the life I… we had,’ he corrected himself.
‘That’s no reason to not have a family. You don’t have to be like your dad, and you won’t be. You’ll be better than him because you’re kind and caring. And you’ll be better than me too.’ He could hear the emotion in her voice. ‘Because I know I haven’t been the best of mums, and yes, we’ve struggled, but I have never regretted having you, Oliver. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. You have added so much to my life. Please don’t deny yourself the happiness of having a child because of the mistakes we made.’
Oliver was too stunned to reply. First, his self-centred father had told him that he had never regretted having him, and now his mother, who had always struggled to support him, was saying the same. All his life he had felt a burden to them yet they both said that they were glad to be parents.
‘Oliver…’ His mother’s voice broke through his thoughts. ‘I love you, Oliver. And your father loves you too in his own way. Please talk to Meg.’
38
Ted
Well, that was Christmas over, but what happened now? If truth be told, Ted had expected Sally to come to her senses and come home for Christmas. Actually, he’d thought she might be back as soon as she knew he was going to Paula’s for dinner, which was one of the reasons he’d accepted the invitation and had deliberately not mentioned that Paula’s dad would be there too. Sally hadn’t returned though. In fact, she hadn’t seemed at all bothered. Probably realised that there was nothing to worry about on that score. Paula was a very nice woman but she was a neighbour, that was all. There was nothing between them. Sal was the only woman for him. They knew each other, were used to each other, and even though things weren’t always ideal between them, they chugged along okay. He wanted his wife back and life to return to normal. He hated change. Routine, familiarity – that’s how Ted liked to live his life.
But what could he do? He’d tried to compromise, told her that he’d go on holiday with her once a year, have the occasional night out. What more did she want? He’d heard of women going a bit funny when they were going through the menopause; maybe that’s when it had all started with Sal. She had suddenly realised she was growing old and wanted to grab at life while she could. Well, he wouldn’t stop her and would try not to sulk when she went out or away in future. He didn’t have to join in though, did he? He was happy with his life – or he had been until Sally had walked out. There must be some way they could fix this. He’d give her a ring, see if they could talk things through.
‘Yoo-hoo! Ted!’ The back door opened and Paula came into the kitchen carrying a plate with a tea towel over it. ‘I’ve cooked you a lovely steak and kidney pie for your tea and some cherry cake, your favourite,’ she said, putting it down on the table then striding over to the sink. ‘I’ll put the kettle on, shall I? Dad’s having a nap so he won’t miss me for a while. I’m sure you’d love a bit of company.’
It was very kind of her, and he did fancy a cuppa and a piece of cake. He didn’t know what he’d have done without Paula the last few days; she always checked on him when Sal was away too. She was a kind woman. She was lonely, he guessed. It wasn’t nice living on your own. He’d hated it when Sal was away but he’d filled the days, knowing she’d be back. Now the days stretched out in front of him: long, empty days without Sal. He had to get her back.
Paula chatted away while she made the tea, asking Ted’s advice about the garden – she was having a problem with her cabbages – sitting down beside him and hanging onto his every word. Sal never did that; she always half-listened as if she couldn’t wait to get away.
‘Fancy another cuppa?’ Paula asked. ‘There’s enough cake for another slice each.’
‘That’s very kind of you,’ Ted said, draining his cup and handing it to her. He’d phone Sal later; it was nice to be talking to someone who enjoyed his company and asked his advice. Sal never asked his advice about anything, she thought she always knew the answers herself. Anyway, she wasn’t interested in gardening. Or anything else Ted wanted to do.
They had just finished their second slice of cake when there was a knock at the front door. ‘You sit and finish your cake, Ted. I’ll get it.’ Paula was up and halfway down the hall before he could protest.
‘What are you doing here? Where’s Dad?’
It was Dan. Ted rose to his feet just as Dan burst through the kitchen door, followed by Katya and Tom. ‘Hello, Dan. You didn’t say you were coming.’
‘I was worried that you’d be moping here on your own without Mum, but you seem to have found her replacement already.’ Dan looked furious.
‘Dan…’ Katya protested.
Paula gave Dan an icy look. ‘I’ll ignore that as I know you’re upset.’ She patted Ted on the shoulder. ‘I think I’d better go, Ted, leave you both to talk. I’ll see you tomorrow.’ With a curt nod at Dan and Katya she was off.
‘Where’s Nanny?’ Tom asked, looking around. ‘Want Nanny.’
‘She’s gone out, poppet.’ Katya picked up the little boy then gave the two men a stern stare. ‘I don’t want you two shouting at each other and frightening Tom so I’m going to take him out into the garden for a few minutes and leave you to talk. And keep your voices down.’
Dan pursed his lips but waited until his wife and child had gone out into the garden before demanding, ‘What the hell are you playing at, Dad?’
‘It was just a cup of tea, don’t make a drama out of it.’ Ted folded his arms stubbornly. Dan had no right storming in here and making ridiculous accusations.
‘And you went to hers for Christmas dinner yesterday. Anyone would think you don’t want Mum back.’
‘It’s your mother you should be talking to. She’s the one who’s swanned off down to Cornwall. What do you expect me to do? Sit around moping?’
‘Go after her.’ Dan paced around the kitchen agitatedly. ‘Tell her you want her back. Book a holiday somewhere so you can get away and talk things over properly, get your marriage back on track.’ He turned around and the desperate expression on his face shocked Ted. Dan was really upset about this, he realised.
‘I did go down there – and it was clear that she was enjoying herself and didn’t want me there,’ Ted pointed out crossly. He softened his voice. ‘I’m going to call her later and try to sort things out. I don’t want our marriage to end either, son. I want your mother back and things to be exactly how they were.’
‘That’s the trouble, Dad. Mum doesn’t want things to be how they were. I’ve spoken to Meg and she said that Mum’s been really unhappy for ages. She wants things to change.’
‘And it looks like it’s me who’s got to do the changing.’
‘Just try to sort it, Dad. Please. Tom wants his nanny and grandad back together.’
‘So do I, son. So do I. But compromise works two ways.’
* * *
When Dan had gone and he was finally alone again, Ted sat down and put the TV on. He was exhausted. And he’d eaten so much he felt uncomfortable. He loosened his shirt collar, put his feet up and closed his eyes. He’d phone Sally tomorrow.
39
Meg
‘It’s breathtaking!
’ Meg exclaimed as she gazed at the majestic ruins of the famous Tintagel Castle, remembering how she had been fascinated by the stories she’d read in her teens of the young King Arthur being swept away to sea and waking up half-conscious in a sea cave, to be greeted by the old magician, Merlin, who promised he would be king one day. Of how Arthur rose to be king, formed the Knights of the Round Table and fell in love with Guinevere only to be betrayed by Lancelot. Tales of magic, sorcery, bravery and love. Looking at the ruins of this ancient castle, set on the clifftop high above the dramatic Cornish coastline, she could believe them all. She wished that Oliver was here with her to see it. He would love it – and would definitely want to make the perilous-looking climb up the steps to visit the castle.
‘Amazing, isn’t it? Your father and I had a tour of the castle when we were here. We were younger then and could manage the steps, and it wasn’t as windy as today,’ Sally said.
‘It’s so wild and magical.’ The wind blew Meg’s hair over her face as she gazed around her. ‘I can imagine how it was hundreds of years ago.’
They made their way back across the rugged coastal path, linking arms as they walked. Meg’s mind was full of the old romantic Arthurian legends she’d heard, Arthur, Guinevere and Lancelot, Tristan and Yseult, tales of great and forbidden love, of lovers who never gave up despite the obstacles. Not like she had done. She’d given up on Oliver and their love for each other as soon as a major obstacle had come their way.