by Jane Corry
‘Will do. Is he coming up to you for Christmas?’
‘No. He says he wants to be on his own as usual.’
I feel awful about this but it’s the same every year. He likes his ‘peace and quiet’, even though he gets that every day. Secretly I think it’s because he still misses Mum.
‘Don’t you worry. I’ll keep an eye on him. And I’ll ring you later on today. He’s probably having a little doze.’
That’s the sensible answer. But my mind spins into all the ‘what-ifs’. What if he’s fallen and is lying there unconscious? What if he’s set fire to the house? Downstairs I can hear the dog barking for a walk. As if there isn’t enough to do! Honestly, that French teacher has got a cheek. But when I take Coco to the park after wrapping myself up in the stylish navy jacket that Betty had given me for my last birthday, I begin to see why dog walkers look so happy and healthy. It’s actually really nice to get out in the fresh air, even if it is nippy. And Coco is rather sweet. She comes back to me with the ball every time!
‘You’re meant to pick up,’ says a woman walking past, her voice tight with disapproval.
Whoops! I hadn’t noticed that Coco had ‘performed’. The French teacher had supplied us with poo bags but I’ve never done this before. Yuck! Then I head straight back home to wash my hands, even though I’m pretty sure I didn’t touch anything. Coco has her tongue out, as if she’s laughing at me.
‘Maybe I’ll take you with me to meet Daisy from school,’ I tell her. ‘She’d like that.’
Then the phone goes. Reg. My heart almost stops. If Dad was all right, he’d have called me himself, berating me for contacting his friend.
‘I don’t want to worry you,’ he says.
‘What’s happened?’ I croak.
‘Your dad’s all right …’
Thank heavens for that.
‘But he’s in a bit of a pickle. He wasn’t picking up the phone because he was trying to sort out his credit card problems.’
‘But he doesn’t have one. He only has a debit card.’
‘That’s just it. Apparently he fell for one of those bank invitations to take one out. He’s been spending without realizing he has to pay a certain amount back every month. And now they’ve sent him a warning letter.’
‘It shouldn’t be allowed,’ I say. ‘Doesn’t the bank realize how old he is?’
‘Plenty of people our age are perfectly capable of handling our bills,’ says Reg stiffly.
‘I’m sorry. Of course you are.’
‘Anyway, don’t worry. I’ve been helping him sort it out. He’s written a cheque to pay it all off and I’ve got him to cut up the credit card.’
‘Thank you. He’d never have done that for me.’
‘That’s what friends are for, love. Now you relax and enjoy yourself with those girls of yours.’
Relax and enjoy myself? I’m a working woman. But there are a lot of people like Reg who don’t understand the concept of working from home. They think it’s an excuse for putting your feet up. Still, at least it allows me some space to do things like meet my younger daughter from school with her on-loan dog.
I’m just about to put the lead back on Coco when my phone buzzes again. It’s always like this. Stuart refuses to have his on him unless absolutely necessary. He keeps telling me about research that suggests our brains will all be frazzled with mobile use by the time we’re old. ‘It’s just like smoking in our parents’ generation,’ he says. ‘No one realized how dangerous it was then.’
I glance at the screen. Matthew.
I could reject him, but what would be the point? He’d only ring again. Anyway, I’d rather know the score.
‘Hello,’ I say coolly.
‘Pops! I’ve missed you.’
He’s talking as though we’re used to seeing each other all the time.
‘Please don’t say things like that.’
‘But I do. Are you free this evening? I’ve booked one of the carers for Sandra. Don’t worry, she doesn’t know anything. We could go out to dinner to discuss how you’re going to tell Stuart about us. There’s this lovely mews flat I’ve found that we could rent. It’s got a Juliet balcony and it’s not that far from Kilburn station. There’s room for your kids to visit at the weekend …’
‘Stop,’ I say. This is ridiculous! ‘I’ve told you before. I’m not leaving my husband. It was a mistake. I shouldn’t have slept with you.’
‘But you did, Pops. And it was wonderful. Admit it.’
Coco is whining at my feet as if she knows I am upset. I’m starting to think this man is crazy. Unhinged, perhaps. ‘I’ve got to get my daughter from school,’ I say, aware that my voice is shaking with the effort to keep calm. ‘Then I’m spending the evening with my family. I am not leaving Stuart or the girls and that’s the end of it. Don’t try to contact me or any of my family ever again.’
‘Not even your mother-in-law with that rather fetching purple beret of hers?’
How does he know about Betty? Facebook again?
‘No,’ I say.
There’s silence. Has he rung off, or have we lost signal?
‘Are you still there?’ I ask.
‘Oh yes, Pops. I’m always here for you. I’ve told you that before. As for leaving you alone, I don’t think I can do that. Sorry.’
Then the line goes dead.
16
Betty
The weeks went by and still Jane showed no signs of improving.
‘Mummy still poorly,’ Alice would inform me solemnly, gripping her daddy’s hand as if she was scared he might get ill too.
‘Never mind,’ I’d say in a falsely upbeat voice. ‘She’ll get better soon.’
But she didn’t. My friend’s once-bright eyes had sunk into her face and there were black shadows around them. Her hair was still lank and flat. ‘I try to wash it for her,’ said Gary despairingly when Alice was playing, ‘but she just pushes me away. At least I persuaded her to get dressed today. There are times when she won’t get out of her nightie.’
We spoke in low voices from the next room, not wanting to upset her. Violet was fast asleep in her Moses basket, blissfully unaware of everything going on around her.
Gary was looking worse too. The saggy bags under his eyes were more pronounced than ever. ‘It’s not me I’m worried about,’ he said. ‘It’s the children. Alice keeps asking questions and Violet isn’t putting on as much weight as she should because I don’t seem to have much luck getting a bottle down her.’
As if on cue, the baby woke. Soon her mewing sounds turned into desperate screams. Poor little mite was probably starving.
‘Let me have a go,’ I said. ‘Where’s the milk powder?’
Gary showed me and I swiftly made some up. For some reason, Violet was more than happy to take it from me, gulping it down so fast that the milk dribbled out of her tiny rosebud mouth. Maybe she’d sensed that her father had been too nervous when he’d tried. Babies like to think an adult knows what he or she is doing, even when that isn’t the case. The trick, I’d learned, is to pretend. It gives both of you more confidence. I also knew how to soothe her, using the same methods I did with my Stuart; stroking her little cheek with my finger and then burping her against my shoulder.
‘There we are!’ I said triumphantly.
‘You’re amazing,’ said Gary and I flushed with pleasure.
Afterwards, I laid her on the yellow-and-green giraffe-patterned play mat which Jane had bought when she was pregnant, and distracted both Violet and my son – whom I’d placed next to her – with one of those lovely little floor-standing mobiles above them. We couldn’t afford anything half as fancy as that at home.
Sometimes, if the weather was fine, I’d push the two of them around the garden in the double buggy (a present from Jane’s grandmother) to get them to sleep. Then I was able to play with Alice to give Gary a bit of a break. On a few occasions, I fancied I saw Jane standing at the window, watching me in her nightdress with her long
blonde hair hanging down. But when I beckoned at her to come out and join us, she turned away.
The doctor prescribed a different type of antidepressant. ‘They just seem to knock her out,’ said Gary, ‘rather than making her any better.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘Term starts in a week and I’ll have to go back to work. I really don’t know what to do. Jane’s parents live too far away to help out. They’ve offered to pay for a nanny but I don’t like the idea of a stranger looking after the children. You’ve been such a help but I can’t expect you to carry on full-time.’
‘I’m quite happy to do so,’ I heard myself saying.
Gary smiled weakly. ‘That’s so kind of you. But you’ve got your own little one to look after and your house to run.’
‘Flat, you mean,’ I corrected him. ‘It doesn’t take me long to clean it. I haven’t got anything else to do apart from looking after Stuart. If I’m doing that for one baby, I might as well look after two. Besides, Alice is going to be at full-time school now isn’t she?’
I stopped before I got carried away by my own enthusiasm. ‘There’s only one problem.’ Unable to meet his eyes, I looked down at the ground, embarrassed.
‘What’s that?’ I heard him say.
‘My Jock told me I wasn’t to see Jane again after you asked us round to dinner.’
Gary nodded. ‘I know. Jane told me before she got … got ill. But I presumed he’d changed his mind after the baby, otherwise you wouldn’t be here.’
‘He doesn’t know,’ I said, raising my eyes to meet his. ‘He’s at work and he never bothers to ask me how I spend my days.’
Gary bit his lip. ‘I see. I don’t want to get you into any trouble.’
‘And I don’t want to leave my best friend in the lurch,’ I said. ‘I’d like to help out, just as long as you can find someone to take Alice to school and collect her. That way I won’t be seen. I’ll need to be back before Jock in the evening too.’
‘Of course.’ He still looked uncertain. ‘But I don’t like the idea of it causing bad blood with your husband.’
‘Don’t worry about that,’ I said. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him that there was enough of that already.
‘Of course,’ he added, ‘I’ll pay you whatever you want.’
‘Pay me?’ I took a step back. ‘I don’t want money. I’m offering because Jane has been a good friend to me and now she needs my help.’
Gary looked like he was going to argue the matter. Then he gave an ‘I get it’ shrug.
‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to offend. It’s very kind of you. I’m sure Jane will start feeling brighter soon. After Alice was born, it took about six months. So maybe we’ll all be back to normal again by Christmas.’
As late summer merged into autumn, I came to love my new routine. It was such a relief to get out of the flat and let Stuart crawl around Jane’s lovely home, which had so much more space. Violet had started to crawl too. The two of them looked so cute together. ‘Look,’ I’d say to Jane as she sat in her chair, staring into space. ‘Isn’t it amazing to see how they’re growing so fast?’
But she didn’t say anything. Gary said it was the same in the evening. It was hard to talk to this new surly Jane, who was so different from my old happy friend. Surely something could be done to make her better again? But what? The doctor had already referred her to a specialist who had prescribed other drugs. There was no improvement.
Maybe she needed more of a personal touch. I tried everything to bring that spark back, like turning up Radio One and singing along to The New Seekers, one of my favourite groups, who Jane had liked too. But there was no response. Then I put on the television for the children’s programmes when Alice was home from school. That at least seemed to do something. Jane actually stood up and went to the set, leaning forward until her face was in front of the picture. It was almost as if she was trying to get inside the television itself. But she still wouldn’t talk to us.
‘Why don’t you hold your new little daughter instead?’ I suggested.
I put the baby in her arms but she pushed us both away. Then Violet screamed and I had to soothe her. ‘Shhh, little one,’ I whispered, putting my small finger in her mouth so she could suck for comfort.
‘Why did Mummy push you?’ asked Alice, looking round from the television.
‘She didn’t mean to,’ I said quickly. But inside I was panicking. What if she hurt the children?
‘I’ve never seen Jane do that before,’ said Gary worriedly when he came back that night. ‘But I have noticed that she perks up when the television is on. She doesn’t like it when I’m there, though.’
‘Maybe,’ I suggested tentatively, ‘she wants to be on her own. Don’t take that the wrong way. But it’s how I feel sometimes when I’m at home. Giving birth is such a big thing and then it’s full on with the baby. At times, you need space to yourself.’
Gary nodded. ‘I can see that. Actually, I’ve got an idea.’
He bought Jane a portable TV for the conservatory. This proved a bit of a breakthrough. She’d watch the daytime stuff – mainly schools and adult education programmes in those days – her eyes glued to the screen. When I made lunch for the children and me (Stuart and Violet were on solids now), I’d take her a tray with little delicacies that Gary would leave in the fridge. Smoked salmon! I’d never even tasted it before. Sometimes she would nod at me as if to say thank you and I’d see a glimmer of my old friend. ‘You’ll be as right as rain before long,’ I’d say brightly.
But then her eyes would go dull again and she would look away.
Gary got permission to leave early from school so I could be home to make Jock’s tea before he got back. But once I nearly got caught out when the factory closed at midday because of a mechanical problem. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded when I returned with Stuart. ‘Your mum said she hasn’t seen you for weeks.’
‘We went for a walk,’ I said. It wasn’t actually a lie. It was quite a tough walk to Jane’s, up a steep hill.
‘And where did that fancy buggy come from?’
‘That?’ I said, playing for time. Gary had given it to me; it was a spare they’d had in the garage and was smarter than the old pram Mum had bought as well as being easier to push now Stuart was getting bigger. ‘I found it at the tip. It was going free.’
After that, I was a bit more careful, telling Gary that I was very sorry but I could only do a couple of days a week. So he paid for a girl from an agency to come in for the other three.
That seemed a good solution for a while, but after a fortnight Gary rang me from school – thankfully, Jock had long left for work. ‘Dawn’s just called to say that Violet won’t stop screaming and that Jane is walking up and down in a terrible state, trying to pull her own hair out. We had to keep Alice off school because she has a cold. I’m so sorry to ask but do you think …’
I was already reaching for my old anorak and looking for Stuart’s (another hand-me-down that Gary had passed on; it looked a bit girly but at least it was warm). ‘We’ll be there,’ I said.
I was shocked when I arrived. Violet’s nappy was soaked through – which was probably why she was still crying – and Alice had a runny nose that no one had wiped. Jane’s eyes were wild and she caught me by the hands. ‘Stay,’ she kept saying over and over again. ‘Stay.’
It was as if fear had helped her to start talking, even if it was just one word.
Young Dawn, who looked fresh out of school, was at her wits’ end. ‘It wasn’t my fault,’ she said defensively. ‘I did my best.’
‘The children just need someone they know,’ I said, trying to reassure her. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll take over now.’ I changed Violet’s nappy and found her dry clothes in the nursery while strapping Stuart into the bouncing chair so he was safe. I got out Alice’s play clay and suggested she made shapes on the kitchen table. Then I settled Jane with a mug of tea (not piping hot, in case she scalded herself) in front of the television.
‘It was so kind of you to bail us out,’ said Gary when he came back from school. ‘I’ve rung the agency and they’re going to try and find someone more experienced.’
‘No,’ I said. ‘Don’t. It’s not experience that Jane and the children need. It’s a familiar face. I’ll go back to what I was doing before and come round every day.’
Gary looked concerned. ‘But I don’t want you to get into trouble with your husband.’
He was so kind. So thoughtful. If only I had a man like him instead of a rough bully who could turn on me if I did something as small as forgetting to polish his shoes. ‘I won’t,’ I lied, knowing that Jock would kill me if he discovered I was going there. I’d just have to make sure that he didn’t. ‘Now don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough on your plate.’
‘I’ll tell the agency we don’t need Dawn any more then,’ he said. ‘I must say, I’ll feel much happier now the children will be with someone who really loves them.’
My own words were braver than I felt. But as the weeks went by and I wasn’t caught out again, I began to feel more assured. If push came to shove, I’d tell Jock that my friend needed me and that was that. Jane couldn’t go on being depressed for ever. Then we could all get back to normal again.
But part of me – a terrible part – wanted this to carry on for ever. I could almost pretend that Jane’s daughters were mine. On a few occasions, Alice even called me ‘Mummy’ by mistake and little Violet always calmed down when I picked her up. Occasionally – though not often, because I felt sick with guilt afterwards – I imagined when Gary came back at the end of the day that he was my husband returning from work.
I knew it was wrong. I knew I was only thinking that way because Jane’s home was such a welcome distraction from Jock’s moods and his drinking and the rough way in which he forced himself on me at night. But I couldn’t quite get those fantasies out of my head.
17
Poppy