Something to Tell You

by Lucy Diamond

  Jeanie looked rather sheepish, but managed a smile at least. ‘It had its moments,’ she said, ‘and was mostly wonderful. Even more wonderful when your dad turned up out of the blue, obviously.’

  ‘Welcome back, Dad,’ said Dave, hugging him. ‘You look well. Want a hand with your bags?’

  ‘Thanks, son,’ Harry said. ‘We’ve had a smashing few days.’

  ‘Glad to hear it,’ Dave replied. ‘Hang on,’ he said, as his phone started ringing, ‘I’ll just take this.’

  ‘Mum, do you want me to carry anything?’ Paula asked. ‘Blimey, are you sure you’ve got enough duty-free there?’

  ‘I couldn’t resist picking up a few things for the kiddies,’ Jeanie confessed, opening the carrier bag to reveal Toblerones, a science kit, some cool-looking headphones. ‘And there’s your favourite perfume somewhere in there as well, plus . . .’

  ‘What?’ Dave said just then into the phone in such a shocked voice that they all looked over at him. ‘Oh God. Is she okay?’

  Paula had a bad feeling inside as she saw how the colour was blanching from his face. ‘No, her name’s Bernadette,’ Dave said, passing a hand across his face. His mouth seemed to buckle and he leaned heavily against a pillar for support. ‘Bunny for short . . . Is it definitely her? What’s the car registration?’ His body sagged. ‘Right. Yes. That is her.’

  ‘What’s going on?’ Jeanie asked Paula in concern. ‘Is he all right?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Paula replied, still watching her brother’s face. His eyes were glassy as if he was being told something terrible, and she felt her own stomach bottom out in alarm.

  ‘Right,’ he said, swallowing hard and nodding, seemingly oblivious to the others staring at him. ‘Okay. I’ll come over straight away. Oh God. Okay, thanks.’ He hung up, looking dazed and kind of queasy. ‘I’ve got to go,’ he said. ‘That was the police. Bunny . . . she’s been in an accident.’

  Once Dave had left, practically sprinting in his haste, Paula and her parents headed for the car park in subdued silence. Dave hadn’t been able to give them any more details other than that Bunny was in hospital, following a car crash, but it had sounded serious. Paula loaded the suitcases into the boot of her car, feeling worried for vibrant, smiling Bunny and for poor Dave too, who was so besotted with her. Yet another crisis to hit the family!

  When would it end? she thought, gripping the steering wheel as she drove her parents home. What else would be flung at them? Paula felt, more strongly than ever, that she had to step up and try to get things straight again, to be there for whoever needed her. Jeanie being away for so long had made her realize just how much her mum did for the family; how she was the glue that held them together. From now on, Paula was determined to share some of that responsibility, not least to give her mum a bit of a break.

  ‘Here we are,’ she said, parking outside her parents’ house a while later. ‘Now listen, don’t go worrying about Dave and Bunny, okay? I’ll keep on top of the situation and let you know anything I hear. You just unpack and have a rest, get the kettle on. Oh – I should have thought to pick up some milk for you—’

  ‘No need,’ her dad said, heaving his case out of the boot. ‘I went and bought a few bits and pieces earlier in the week. Ran the Hoover round as well. What?’ he laughed, seeing Paula and Jeanie both staring at him in surprise. ‘Nothing wrong with a man wanting to look after his wife and home, is there?’

  ‘Nothing wrong at all,’ Paula said, blinking at this unexpected turn of events. Sure, she’d been a bit sharp with him about tidying up after himself while he’d been staying with her, she supposed, and she’d ticked him off for not thinking about Jeanie, but . . . Well. This was a turn-up for the books.

  Harry twinkled his eyes at her. ‘Our daughter put me straight on a few things,’ he told Jeanie. ‘And I’m going to do more around the house to help from now on, you just wait. I might even make you a cheese omelette for your tea.’

  ‘Whoa,’ said Paula, who wasn’t aware that he’d so much as cracked an egg before. ‘Steady on there. Are you sure about this, Dad?’

  ‘Your Luke’s been giving me a few tips,’ he replied. ‘Proper good cook, that lad is, isn’t he? I texted him while I was away, asked him for something to cook that even an old fella like me might be able to manage, and he sent me back a recipe. Not just women’s work, Grandad, he said to me. That put me in my place.’

  ‘Well, I never,’ Jeanie said faintly, smiling at Paula, who raised her eyebrows comically in return. ‘Sounds like I owe your Luke a few favours for all this. Tell him I’ll be over with a very nice present from my holiday soon, all right?’ She hugged Paula and gave her a kiss on the cheek. ‘Ooh, I missed you, love. It’s good to be back. And thanks for everything. What would I do without you?’

  Paula saw them inside and got back into the car, smiling to herself that her own son had been feminist enough to set his grandad straight on matters of equality. Maybe she and Matt were better parents than they gave themselves credit for. She was just about to drive off home, to tell them that Harry seemed to be a changed man, when the news about John hit her all over again and the smile abruptly left her face. Oh God, yes, another drama she had yet to get to the bottom of. On impulse, she pulled out her phone and fired off a text to him: Just heard about your pathetic mid-life crisis. For fuck’s sake, John!! Get over yourself and come home. P

  He’d be angry, of course, to get a message like that from his little sister, when he was the type of brother who thought he knew the answers to everything, but she didn’t care as she pressed Send. Because she was angry, too, and because he deserved it, frankly. Then she found Robyn’s number on her phone and hit Call.

  ‘Hey! It’s me, Paula. I’ve just heard about John,’ she said when her sister-in-law picked up. It was only then that it occurred to her – too late, of course – that Robyn might be the sort of person who preferred to get on stoically with being dumped, who might not appreciate being called up to discuss the situation, but by then Paula’s words were already spilling out, and backtracking was no longer an option. ‘God, Robyn! What a complete and utter twat he is. I’m so sorry to be related to such a total idiot. How are you? Are the kids okay? Do you want some company or . . .’

  She heard a sniff from the other end and cringed that she might just blunderingly have made matters worse. ‘Are you all right? Is this a bad time to ring? If you don’t feel like talking about it, I’ll understand. I just wanted to commiserate, to see how you are.’ She bit her lip. ‘But if you’d rather do this some other time—’

  ‘No.’ The word was a gulp, and then Paula heard Robyn sniff again and blow her nose. ‘Sorry. I’m . . . I’m coping really well, as you can tell,’ she said self-deprecatingly, but you could hear the wobble in her voice. ‘No, I’m not,’ she went on. ‘I’m not coping very well at all. But thank you. Thank you for ringing.’

  ‘Oh, Robyn.’ Paula leaned back against the car seat. ‘I would have rung before if I’d known. Dave only just told me, I didn’t have a clue. What a moron John is, honestly. I can’t believe it.’ Perhaps it was time to stop slagging him off, she thought belatedly. She wasn’t sure such an approach was all that helpful, especially if Robyn hoped they might get back together at some point. ‘But look, if you want me to come over any time – or help with the kids – or, you know, listen or chat, or I can take you out for gallons of wine . . .’

  Robyn’s voice had gone all small and trembly when she spoke again, as if she was about to cry. ‘I’m so glad you rang,’ she said. ‘I thought . . . I was worried . . .’ Her pitch seemed to rise with every word. ‘I was worried I wouldn’t be part of the family any more.’

  Paula’s mouth swung open. ‘Robyn, no! Of course you’re part of the family! Oh my God, don’t ever think that. You can’t get rid of us that easily.’ Goodness, Robyn sounded so distressed at the prospect – it hadn’t even occurred to Paula that they would drop her, just because John had. ‘Oh, love,’ she went on. ‘Were you re
ally worrying about that? Please don’t. We all think you’re great, and that John’s an arsehole for doing this. I swear. Not that Mum and Dad know yet, they’ve only just got back from Madeira – but Dave’s horrified, and Stephen’s actually up in Edinburgh now, trying to talk some sense into John. He felt awful, by the way, about basically lying to your face the other day, according to Dave. He didn’t have a clue what was going on when he turned up at yours and you told him what John had said, about them supposedly being out . . . Bless him, he thought John might be planning a nice surprise for you and he didn’t want to wreck it, so—’

  She heard Robyn give a sob.

  ‘Oh, darling,’ Paula said wretchedly. ‘I’m so sorry. I really am.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Robyn gulped. ‘Thank you for ringing and telling me all of that. It means a lot to me. I haven’t managed to break it to the kids yet, I don’t know what I’m going to say, but . . . but I’m glad nobody is blaming me or—’

  ‘Blaming you? Not a bit of it. Of course we’re not.’ Blaming Robyn, indeed! There was only one person Paula was blaming in this whole saga and it definitely wasn’t her sister-in-law. ‘Now, listen,’ she said, deciding to steer the subject away. ‘Something else I’ve just heard – and as a fully paid-up member of the family, you’ll want to know this, too: Dave got a call, like an hour ago, saying that Bunny’s been in some sort of accident and is in hospital. I haven’t got the full details yet – I‘ll pass on anything I hear from him – but maybe the two of us could go and see her at some point. We sisters-in-law have got to stick together, right?’

  ‘Oh, gosh,’ said Robyn, sounding startled. ‘I hope she’s all right. Yes – keep me posted, and let’s do that. Poor Bunny.’

  ‘I know. Sounded bad. I thought Dave was going to keel over, he looked so queasy on the phone. Anyway,’ she said, noticing the time, ‘I’d better go, but I’ll text you when I hear any news and we can sort something out, okay? And you take care in the meantime. Go and punch some cushions or something. Take the garden shears to John’s favourite shirt, at the very least.’

  ‘Don’t tempt me,’ said Robyn with one last sniffle. ‘Thanks, Paula.’

  ‘Any time,’ said Paula, starting the engine.

  ‘Bunny? Can you hear me, love? Bunny, it’s me, Dave.’

  Bunny felt as if she were swimming up through a great thick darkness, unable to see where she was going. There was a voice from somewhere above her, a voice she recognized, but she couldn’t quite reach it, couldn’t quite register.

  ‘You’re in the hospital, darling. I’m right here with you. You’re going to be okay. Bunny?’

  Her throat felt very sore as if she’d been screaming. Had she been screaming? Everything felt vague and blurred. Her head was pounding and she ached, but in a drifty sort of way. As if it wasn’t actually real. What was real, anyway?

  ‘The police said you were out near Skelton, heading north. With bags of stuff in the boot. Where were you going, love? Was it one of your slimming talks? Only you didn’t tell me you were going off for another one. Bun?’

  Groggily she managed to open her eyes a crack, to see Dave peering anxiously at her. Everything seemed very white around him, white and bright, and she blinked, feeling disorientated. His hair was wet, she noticed, and then she remembered the rain. Drumming against the windscreen. Hammering on the roof. She’d been in the car, that’s right, she thought blearily. Driving the car through the rain. But where was she now?

  ‘Hello,’ Dave said softly, leaning closer. He smelled of coffee and his eyes were red, as if he’d been crying. ‘Hey. Oh, love. I’ve been so worried.’

  ‘Dave,’ she croaked, the fog in her head clearing a little. She’d been leaving him, she remembered with a guilty start. She’d packed up her bags, written a note, posted the keys back through the front door. But . . . What had happened? How had he found her? Everything was shifting around in her memory, blurring and slippery when she tried to focus. Was this a dream or something?

  ‘You’re in hospital, you’ve had a car accident,’ Dave said. His face seemed to be zooming in and out of focus, it was making her head spin. ‘No bones are broken, thank goodness, but the doctors think you’re concussed.’ He gave a tiny smile. ‘You’ve been saying all sorts in your sleep, you know. “I never meant to kill him,” you were mumbling a few minutes ago. You must have had a right old bump on your head,’ he added, squeezing her hand gently. ‘The other driver was absolutely fine, by the way. The cars are a bit of a mess, but you haven’t killed anybody.’ He stroked a finger tenderly down the side of her face, then raised a teasing eyebrow. ‘Unless there’s anything in your past that you want to tell me, that is . . .’

  Tears leaked out of Bunny’s eyes as the words sank into her consciousness, like tiny knives. Unless there was anything in her past that she wanted to tell him. Oh God. Where should she start? She could almost laugh, if it wasn’t so spectacularly awful. If only he knew . . .

  ‘Hey,’ he said gently. ‘Come on, it’s okay.’

  She tried to shake her head, but it hurt. ‘It’s not okay,’ she whimpered. ‘It’s not.’

  ‘I know this must all seem a bit weird, Bun, but—’

  A sob burst from her throat. ‘That’s not even my name,’ she cried, closing her eyes so that she didn’t have to look at him any more. Her head was thumping now and she experienced a sudden vivid flash of memory: her wheels skidding on the road, a navy-blue Toyota coming towards her, a scream of terror and then the impact of collision, being thrown back in her seat. But she hadn’t killed anybody, according to Dave. So that made it two people she hadn’t quite despatched, then. She was building up rather a collection.

  There was a pause. ‘The police did say something about your name,’ he replied, sounding worried. ‘Something about the car being registered to a different person – Rachel, was it? But . . .’

  It was all unravelling now; her carefully wrapped secrets splitting and falling apart. ‘Look me up,’ she wept, her face in the pillow, knowing she was already found out and it was too late. ‘Rachel Roberts from Danforth Cross. Google me and then you’ll know. Or rather . . .’ The sobs threatened to overwhelm her. ‘Or rather, then you won’t want to know any more.’

  ‘Bunny! I mean – Rachel. Of course I’ll want to know. What do you mean?’

  She dared to open her eyes again, but Dave’s bewildered face staring back at her was enough to break her heart. ‘Just Google me when you get home,’ she said unhappily. ‘I’ll understand if . . . if you’re not interested when you know the truth.’

  ‘I’ll always be interested!’ he cried. ‘I love you!’ He squeezed her hand again. ‘Look, you’ve had a shock, you’ve banged your head, you’re not yourself. Come on, stop worrying about . . . whatever it is, and just rest now, okay? Don’t distress yourself. Whatever it is, we’ll sort it out, all right? We’ll sort it out together.’

  Bunny no longer had the energy to speak. Tears rolled silently down her face into the damp pillowcase. She wished his words could possibly be true, but at the same time she knew this might well be the last time she ever saw him.

  Then came the sound of footsteps, a swish as the curtain was pulled back and she smelled a light floral perfume. ‘How are we doing in here? I thought I heard voices,’ said a woman. A nurse, Bunny guessed, her mind still groggy. ‘Are you waking up there, love? Rachel? That is her name, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yeah,’ said Dave after a moment. ‘That’s her name. Um.’ She could hear him getting to his feet. ‘I’ll leave you to it. She’s a bit upset,’ he said in a low voice to the nurse. Then he patted Bunny’s arm gently and leaned over to kiss her forehead. ‘Don’t you worry,’ he told her. ‘It’s all going to be okay. I promise.’

  Bunny sighed as he left and the nurse began fastening a blood-pressure cuff to her arm. Oh, Dave, she thought wretchedly. Good, kind, loving David Mortimer. Hadn’t anyone ever told him: you shouldn’t make a promise you couldn’t keep?

  Chapter Twenty-
Four

  Dad About the House: The Mummy Returns

  Bedtime stories! One of the nicest slices of a parent’s day: your child all cuddly and sleepy and pyjama-clad, the book propped cosily between you so that you can pore over the pictures together. Plus – let’s not beat about the bush – that joyful anticipation of liberation, the knowledge that you’re almost off-duty for the evening and there’s a bottle of wine with your name on it waiting in the fridge, to be opened just as soon as the lights go out. But along with all that, bedtime stories can lead to some strange questions, too; questions that steer you into unexpected conversations.

  ‘Why is the stepmother always bad?’ asked Fergus last night. We’ve borrowed a book of fairy-tales from the library and have been reading them a lot recently. And he’s right – the stepmother of fairy-tales is always frightening or murderous or vengeful. Beware the stepmother with her poisoned apple and magic mirror! Mind she doesn’t send you off with a woodcutter, instructed to put you to a violent death in the depths of the dark forest!

  ‘That’s a very good question,’ I replied – which, as you may know yourself, is every parent’s quick-let-me-think-up-a-decent-answer response. And then I was stuck. Because . . . well, not to put too fine a point on it, sometimes in real life the stepmothers are actually the heroes who come riding to the rescue and make everything better, aren’t they? If you ask me, it’s the actual mothers you’ve got to watch out for.

  Before you start getting het up and thinking: Excuse me, I’m an actual mother and I’m certainly not murderous or frightening, thank you very much – I’m really only thinking of one person here. Fergus’s biological mother, in fact. Yes, readers, she’s back. With a thunderclap and some horror-movie music, and possibly a magic mirror of her own, she has returned to our lives. A happy reunion? Not exactly. Turns out that, just like all the most evil fairy-tale villains, she’s hell-bent on shaking things up for the worse.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Craig asked impatiently.