In Servitude

by Heleen Kist

  ‘Sascha, shall we go through the papers?’

  ‘Coming!’

  She returned from the rear and set the clean crockery down while I retrieved the envelope from below the counter. We settled in the nearest seats and I walked her through the accountant’s instructions. Alastair had laid it all out in a check-list, in simple language, and pasted stickers highlighting where to sign. When the moment arrived for her to write her name next to the first sticky arrow, she looked at me and frowned.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes, Sascha. I’m sure.’

  ‘You’re not still in shock or anything? And won’t later decide you made a big mistake?’ She was one of few people I’d told about the altercation with Stephen and I trusted her to keep it quiet for the children’s sake.

  ‘Believe me. I’m sure. You’re a natural. You’re the one making this a success. It’s only fair. I want you to have the café.’

  ‘For a pound?’

  ‘Yes, for a pound. I’d give it to you for free, but Alastair says that’s not tax efficient. So one pound, please, if you will.’ I held out my palm and she laughed, shrugged her shoulders and pulled change from her summer dress. She placed a single gleaming coin on the table. ‘And free coffee for life,’ I said.

  ‘But of course. Free coffee for life.’

  Sascha lifted the pen to the dotted line and with one neat blue scrawl wiped away all but the last stain from Glory’s crime.

  Chapter Sixty-Seven

  The bell rang, and I walked to the front window. It was difficult to see who was at the gate, since the shape was wearing a big winter coat and a hat. But given the parcel in the figure’s hands, it was probably Amazon again.

  ‘Are you expecting another delivery?’ I yelled at Dave in the other room.

  ‘No, I don’t think so. I think all the Christmas gifts are in.’

  ‘Shush. Keep it down. The boys might hear.’

  I buzzed the gate open and waited by the glazed front door while the visitor’s boots sank into the snow with each step up the drive. The door was held open only for as long as it took to place my signature and haul the box inside. We needed to keep the warmth in. Glory’s house was murder to heat. We’d learnt that the hard way when temperatures started to drop mid-Autumn.

  Dave appeared in the hallway. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I don’t know. The label is handwritten, which is a bit odd. And it’s got tonnes of tape on it. I’ll need scissors.’

  Stephen’s old office was on my right and as I entered, I nearly tripped on one of the many boxes on the floor.

  ‘Goddamnit, Dave, when will you put your stuff away? If you don’t want it in the house, then please put it in the garage. I’ll break my neck one of these days.’

  I shoved aside some junk. Why did he have to take so long to unpack? It was as if he never moved in. He’d sold his flat three whole months ago. It only took me a few days—and I’d moved in when things were still chaotic: within a week of Stephen landing in hospital, the instant the police confirmed there would be no further action against me.

  The tape came away easily once I’d snipped down one side of the parcel. There was an envelope on top of a package wrapped in festive green paper with stars on it. My heart skipped on seeing who’d sent it.

  ‘Dear Grace, I am well. I hope you are too. I have job in biscuit factory in Dunfermline. They are good to me. I live with friends in nice flat. This is the best biscuits we make. They call it Prestige. I hope Adam and Noah like it. I thank you for your help of me. Merry Christmas. In Romania we say Crăciun Fericit. Your friend, Marius Agarici.’

  Dave was reading his magazine when I brought the box into the living room.

  ‘It’s from Marius,’ I said. ‘Isn’t that kind? He’s doing well. He’s got a new job in Dunfermline.’

  ‘That’s great news.’

  ‘Could you shout up for the boys please? We should all go for a walk. It looks nice out. Where’s Blue?’

  ‘I think he’s upstairs. He’s taken to jumping along when the boys are playing with the Wii.’

  ‘Are they on their games again? It’s morning! I wish you’d never brought that thing in.’

  ‘Hey. Lay off it,’ Dave said. ‘It’s been great for them. It got them through the tough times.’

  ‘Yes, I guess that’s true. But still…’

  I placed the present under the tree, so it could be opened with all the others in the morning. The card I brought into the kitchen, where it was pinned onto the cork notice board. Prime position. Right next to the thank you from Invisible. I ran my fingers over the formal letter.

  ‘…Your generous donation was the largest the charity has ever received. It will help us have a tremendous impact on the lives of the victims of human trafficking…’

  How would Oliver be doing? I remembered handing over the cheque only weeks after giving the café to Sascha. Alastair had made a herculean effort in getting me access to Glory’s bank account. What else could I have done with the dirty dividends? It had felt so right.

  My phone tinkled in my pocket. Another notification from the WhatsApp group for school mums. I chuckled. Now what? More pictures from last night?

  A shot of Susan filled the screen, literally pulling her hair out, with the words ‘Help! I need batteries. AAA. Anyone got any left? The local shop is all out!’

  I checked the pantry and found four left over. I took a photo of them and typed, ‘Me. We’re off for a walk. I’ll drop them round. After all, if it wasn’t for you I would have never known you’re meant to put them inside the toys before you wrap them. Or even what to buy for Adam. Clever Santa, you. He’s going to love his pressies. xxx’

  The phone pinged again. ‘Thanks doll. You saved Christmas morning! Now, when are we going to hear you belt out Waterloo again? Karaoke was ace!’

  Another chime from another mum. ‘My head still hurts! Bloody kids are driving me insane. Where are the babysit elves when you need them? I still have so much to do!’

  Susan replied, ‘At least you don’t have your motherin-law staying with you for TWO WHOLE WEEKS!’

  I chuckled as I placed the phone back in my pocket. To think I used to dismiss these women and their ‘mummy problems’. I now knew it wasn’t nearly as easy as it looked.

  The ceiling above me shook as the boys stormed down the stairs. I walked to the hallway to meet them.

  ‘Can we go to the ice rink again, Auntie Grace?’ Noah asked.

  ‘No, twice in one week is more than enough.’

  ‘Aw. Please?’

  I play-punched him in the arm. ‘You know begging doesn’t work with me. Now put your coats on. Dave? Are you coming?’

  ‘Yes, coming.’

  We all crammed into the cloakroom. With our thick down jackets on, we were like Michelin men colliding, jostling for position over the box that held hats, scarves and gloves.

  Blue raced out the door as soon as it opened. I watched him sniff the ground. Dustings of snow stuck to his grey velvet nose. Silly dog.

  The boys followed him out and threw speedily manufactured snowballs at each other, that disintegrated before hitting the target.

  ‘Ready?’ Dave asked.

  ‘Yes,’ I said and let him lock the door behind us.

  We walked towards Pollok Park, greeting passers-by on the way. Adam and Noah up ahead. They seemed to be competing for who could exhale the largest amount of steam into the cold air. I hoped one wouldn’t keel over trying to win.

  ‘Remind me to take the cake out of the pantry so it doesn’t dry out too much,’ I said.

  ‘I’m not sure that will help much at this stage.’ Dave winked.

  ‘Oh ha ha. How was I supposed to know you need to soak the fruit for six weeks in advance? I think I deserve credit for remembering to ask Dad for Mum’s recipe at all. It’s the first year she hasn’t been able to make them.’

  ‘I know, babe. You’ve done great. All t
his effort to give the kids a great Christmas. All the little touches.’

  ‘Wait until you see what Adam is getting in the advent calendar tomorrow. I saved the best treat for last, just like Glory used to.’

  ‘Yes, well, Glory had a little more time on her hands than you do. You didn’t need to go through all the trouble of making sweets yourself, you know. I’m sure they would have been fine with chocolate, like everybody else.’

  It wouldn’t be the same though, would it, Gi? Without your traditions. But we couldn’t expect him to understand.

  My mind elsewhere, I jumped when Dave groped my bum.

  ‘When do I get my special treat?’ he said.

  I laughed and slapped his hand away. ‘Stop it, you perv. The kids are right there.’

  Adam and Noah were only a few steps ahead in the park. They’d stopped a few times to pick up sticks to throw for Blue, who never seemed to carry them all the way back.

  ‘I can’t help it if my girlfriend is a fox.’ He flashed his gorgeous set of teeth. ‘Besides, how else are we going to make one of our own?’ he said, indicating the boys with a nod.

  ‘Ha! What am I going to do with a baby? Balance it on my head? I’ve got my hands full with those two already—not to mention Blue.’

  His smile vanished and he faced forward again.

  Had he been serious? I readjusted my hood, which had slipped backwards as we’d talked, and reached for his hand. Would he understand that meant ‘maybe?’

  He accepted the invitation and we walked on, using our clasped hands for balance as we crossed the ice patches on the path.

  Dave lifted his free arm and looked at his watch. ‘What time did you want me to drive you to the hospital?’

  ‘Sorry. I just hate driving in snow. I feel so stressed about losing grip.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  ‘I was thinking four o’clock. It would be a bit awkward to take the boys on Christmas day. I don’t want visiting Stephen to ruin it.’

  ‘Like he ruined everything else?’ Dave shrugged.

  He was right.

  ‘I hate going there.’ I sighed. ‘I hate it with a vengeance. I can’t believe the doctors got it so wrong. “Coma’s don’t last more than a month,” they said. Well it’s been six and it’s anyone’s guess if he’ll ever wake. And in the meantime, I have to bring his sons to him and tell lies about how he got like this. Because Glory would want me to protect them from the truth. It’s like I’m the one being punished when he should be. I wish he would die. He deserves to.’

  ‘Grace!’

  ‘What? An eye for an eye. Isn’t that what they say?’

  Chapter Sixty-Eight

  I was elbow-deep in stuffing, bits of onion oozing their way under my nails as I pressed the sticky mixture inside the bird. I wiped my hair away with my sleeve and looked at the clock. Seven thirty.

  A sleepy Dave came up behind me and stroked my hips. ‘Good morning. New skirt?’

  ‘Yes. I got it in the sale. What do you think?’

  ‘It’s nice. Very pink.’ He scanned the kitchen counter. ‘How’s it all going? Need some help?’

  ‘No, I’m fine. Everything’s on track. The boys will be up soon. Did you make the Santa footprints with the flour?’

  ‘Yes. Want a coffee? Not sure I can cope with the great pyjama-clad avalanche about to hit us without one.’

  ‘I’m okay, thanks. Bless. I can’t wait to see their little eyes light up when they open their presents. But I’ve got tonnes of work to do before then.’ I washed my hands and got to work on the parsnips.

  That afternoon, the main event kicked off with red paper hats and the stinging scent of exploded crackers.

  ‘What happens to the elves when they are naughty?’ asked Noah holding up his gag. He paused only briefly before revealing, ‘Santa gives them the sack!’ The rest of us groaned appreciatively, like every family across the country was doing at this exact time.

  ‘Now mine,’ said Adam. ‘Why did they let the turkey join the pop group?’

  ‘I don’t know, why did they let the turkey join the pop group?’ we asked in unison.

  ‘Because he was the only one with drumsticks!’

  ‘Badaboom.’ Dave simulated a drum roll, and we all laughed.

  Until I panicked.

  ‘Drumsticks. The turkey. Where is Blue?’ I’d remembered I left the turkey cooling on the kitchen table, within reach. On hearing his name, the dog appeared, innocent, from behind the sofa and walked over to the table, sniffing as if expecting a treat. ‘Oh my God, what a relief.’

  Dave sliced the turkey and the children wolfed down everything. Even the sprouts.

  After the pavlova, the fire was lit. We watched the Queen’s speech and cackled with laughter as we stuffed chestnuts in our cheeks to copy her posh accent.

  ‘Are you sure you want to go upstairs?’ I said. ‘The Sound of Music is on next.’

  ‘That’s boring,’ Adam said.

  ‘Yeah, we want to play with the new Nerf guns,’ Noah said, turning to run up to the attic play room. The war zone.

  ‘Don’t think you’re getting out of cleaning up the kitchen!’

  I tried to blank the future mess from dozens of foam bullets from my mind, as I luxuriated in the peace and warmth.

  Dave reached down for an embrace and murmured into my hair. ‘You did good.’ I snuggled into his chest. He must have sensed my exhaustion. ‘Why don’t you have a little snooze?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  And for the first in a very long time, I let go.

  When I woke, my neck ached, and it took a few seconds to find my bearings. The embers were still red, meaning I hadn’t been out long. Strands of staticky hair crackled against my cheek, caused by the woollen blanket that someone had placed over my knees. Someone who loved me. Dave. I smiled and stroked the soft knit. My hand passed over my lower belly just as I heard the boys’ laughter from upstairs, triggering an odd twitch in my womb. Maybe. Maybe someday.

  I scanned the room. A disaster. There were glasses everywhere. Crumbs. All the gift wrap was bunched into a big ball. I sighed; I’d have to remove the metallic stars before recycling the paper.

  How long before I could get rid of the tree? That flashing multi-coloured lop-sided affront to my senses I had endured for the sake of its tiny, proud decorators.

  A nice clear out. That’s what was needed.

  When I stood up and got to work, Blue obstructed my legs, generally being no help. ‘Buddy. I love you too, okay? But please let me do my thing.’ A quick kiss on the muzzle seemed to satisfy him enough to retreat behind the sofa again.

  I swept up the pine needles for the umpteenth time, a futile exercise that reminded me of the effort I’d wasted on some of my clients. A grin spread across my face as I pictured my new job in January. How much more rewarding it would be to run a fitness programme for the disabled and disenfranchised. No more pandering to the insecurities of well-to-do women. Life would be good.

  It had been Dave’s suggestion to apply, after he’d seen it advertised in the Gorbals community centre.

  Where was Dave?

  Through the glazed doors I saw that both the dining room and kitchen were deserted. I found him sitting midway up the stairs, pulling at the brown tufted carpet; pensive.

  ‘Hey. What are you doing?’ I joined him on the step and smoothed the plucked fibres down.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Everything all right? You look sad.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He clasped his hands in front of him.

  ‘Hey. Talk to me.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s the right time, babe.’

  ‘Well now you have to tell me.’ I poked him in the arm, as if to prod it out. ‘Spill.’

  ‘Okay…It’s…I didn’t expect it would be like this.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘This. Stephen’s coma. Everything.’

  ‘O
h.’ A shaky unease formed in my stomach. ‘I know it’s not ideal, hon. But is it so bad? I’m quite getting used to this cushy lifestyle.’ I stroked the lush flooring to accentuate the joke but he frowned.

  Shit. Tears accumulated behind my eyes, barricaded only by the idealistic belief this would end well.

  It had to.

  ‘No, it’s not bad. But it’s not my life. Can’t you see? I am living another man’s life. Not my house. Not my kids. Not my money.’

  ‘You have me. I’m yours.’

  ‘I do. But sometimes…I don’t know how to say this.’

  My heart sank. Why? Was it that bad?

  ‘Go on. You can tell me.’

  ‘Sometimes it’s as if I’m not sure it’s you. I sometimes feel like you’re hanging onto Glory so much—wanting to be like her for the boys—that it’s like you’re turning into her. And it’s just weird. Even this skirt…’

  All I heard in my head was a stream of ‘no’s.

  No. No. No.

  I couldn’t believe this was happening. What was he saying?

  ‘But it’s only temporary,’ I said. ‘It will settle into being our life. You and me, like we planned. Like before. I could change. I mean, change back. We could get our own dog…maybe…maybe have a baby.’ I threw these phrases out like lifebuoys, trying to catch him as I felt him drift further away.

  Did I even mean them? Oh God, what did he want? My anxiety grew with every one of his slow, silent breaths.

  ‘Come on, Grace. Don’t kid yourself. If Stephen dies, the kids will have no-one. If Stephen wakes, he’ll go to jail, and the kids will have no-one. The situation has always been that, and it was always going to come down to you stepping in. Permanently.’ He faced me dead-on. ‘You somehow thought this would become normal. And it was still such a tough time when you asked me to move in. I thought maybe I could get used to it. But let’s not pretend. This is where we are.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘Let me speak now. You made me speak. So I’m speaking.’