Mum's List

by St. John Greene

  There was absolutely no medical evidence to back this up, but shots were the only possible culprit Kate could come up with as she tried to answer the unanswerable questions surrounding Reef’s condition. Her own cancer fed her fears and suspicions, and when she came to write her list she wrote very clearly: “Please don’t go on off-the-beaten-track holidays as I strongly believe vaccinations in Reef and me triggered the cancer.”

  I discussed the dilemma with a few members of my family, who all immediately told me not to worry. “Kate wanted you to take the boys to Egypt, it’s on the list,” my dad said. “And she tried to go with you, more than once. You don’t need to worry.”

  “Egypt isn’t off the beaten track,” my brother added. “The boys don’t need any exotic inoculations, just routine ones. Kate would not have wanted you to take them there otherwise.” It was what I wanted to hear, and I knew they were right.

  “By the way, can we come with you?” both my brother and my dad asked a few weeks later.

  “What? Really?”

  I was quite surprised they wanted to join me, but then again I would be away for Christmas, and that was family time.

  “Most definitely,” my dad said, adding that my stepmum was fully in favor of coming too.

  “It’ll be great,” my brother added, telling me his girlfriend also wanted to join us.

  When I told Kate’s parents about the plans, they also wanted to come.

  “Well, I’m going anyway and if you want to come, then come,” I said to everyone who expressed an interest, and by the time we booked the trip we were a party of thirteen.

  My brother, Matt, his girlfriend, Olivia, my little sister Lucinda, my dad and stepmum and their best friends, known to me as Uncle Norman and Auntie Chris, would come with us for the full two weeks, and Christine and Martin, along with Kate’s brother, Ben, would join us for the second week.

  I was quite surprised they were all up for it, and I didn’t quite believe it until everything was booked and paid for some time later. I guess nobody wanted me to be on my own for Christmas, but the thought had never really crossed my mind. I never thought I would be on my own because I actually wouldn’t be: I’d have Reef and Finn to keep me company the whole time.

  Nevertheless, once I’d got my head round the idea of a big family Christmas holiday, I decided it would be fun, and no doubt more fun than if it were just the three of us. The date was set for December 17, a year on from when Kate and the boys and I flew to Lapland, and I was glad we had a good few months to plan and look forward to it.

  It was August now, and the school summer holidays were stretching before us. I had a full week’s work lined up at a surf trade show in Bristol, where I was part of a team putting on a paramedic show. I took the job on because it was well paid, the boys could tag along with me for some parts of the week, and it was local. It would pay for a little summer holiday too, and I’d arranged to stay at the Highlands End Holiday Park in Eype, West Dorset, with my dad and stepmum later in the month. It was a convenient spot, as I had another job lined up just along the coast, this time doing something quite unusual.

  I’d been asked to assist with the making of a promotional video linked to the Disney film The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, because it involved escorting The Matthew down the coast. Over the past few months 4 Saints had become The Matthew’s unofficial safety boat, and that’s how the opportunity arose. I was really pleased about it. My plan was to drop the boys off with their other grandparents nearby after the camper stay with my dad and stepmum, so I could take the job while the boys continued their holiday.

  “Are we going to be in the movie?” Finn asked excitedly. He’d heard me on the phone to the organizer of the trip, Chris, and was all ears.

  “No, Finn, I’m going to help take The Matthew down the coast so it can be used to make a DVD.”

  “Are you going to be in the DVD?” he asked.

  “No,” I said. “It’s a bit complicated to explain, but people from all over the world have won a competition about the film, and they are going to sail on The Matthew, which will be dressed up to look like the Dawn Treader. It’s my job to help them sail safely to Land’s End, where they’ll be filmed doing lots of activities, like archery and knot-tying.”

  “Oooh! Can we come?” Finn begged.

  “No, Finn, I’m afraid you can’t. You and Reef are staying with your grandparents, but I’ll take lots of pictures and tell you all about it.”

  It was my first big commercial job with 4 Saints, and I was pleased to start recouping some of her costs, but I accepted the work mainly for the sheer thrill and fun of it. It also worked out perfectly that the boys could stay with their grandparents while I zipped off along the coast for a few days.

  I was telling Ruth my holiday plans one night when she popped over for a cup of tea.

  “You’re so lucky,” she said. “Lots of single parents have a real struggle coping with the kids during the school holidays. It’s great you can take them to work with you sometimes, and you have plenty of help.”

  I hadn’t really thought about the benefits of my job because that’s how it had always been. When Kate was alive I always worked flexible hours to accommodate her office job and the boys’ school holidays, and when Reef was ill I managed to juggle work around hospital appointments and visits, with Kate’s parents helping out a great deal too, of course. But Ruth was right, as usual.

  “You’re spot on,” I told her, acknowledging what she said. “But having a flexible job isn’t everything, is it?”

  “What d’you mean?” she asked.

  “I mean there’s a lot more to being a successful single parent than coping with work.”

  “Of course,” Ruth said, nodding wisely as I carried on.

  “Everyone keeps telling me I’m doing great, but I’m far from perfect. I have good days and bad days, you know. Sometimes I just feel like crying. I wonder if I’m doing as good a job as Kate would have done.”

  What I said was unplanned, but it came from the heart.

  “Singe, you try your best with the boys every day,” Ruth said. “Kate would be delighted. They’re thriving. As long as you keep telling them what’s happening in their lives, so they don’t get upset or confused, you mustn’t worry about leading your own life too. I’ve found that as long as children know what’s going on, and you are always on time for them and you stick to arrangements, things work out fine.”

  I could imagine Kate saying the same things. No wonder she and Ruth were such good mates, I thought. They shared the same thought patterns in many ways.

  “I didn’t think I would be saying this so soon, but I’m starting to see that Kate was right,” I added cautiously.

  “In what way?” Ruth asked, her lips stretching into a smile. I think she was already one step ahead of me.

  “The boys do need a female influence. I think it’s impossible to be Mum and Dad.”

  “I’m glad you feel like that, Singe,” Ruth said happily. “It’s normal. Don’t feel guilty. It’s what Kate wanted, and it’ll happen when the time is right. Now go on and enjoy your holidays!”

  I couldn’t believe we were packing up and going on our third camper holiday of the year. If Kate was on a cloud looking down I was sure she must be doubled up laughing at me.

  Chapter 8

  “Kiss good-bye even if leaving for a short time”

  “Where are you going, Daddy?” Finn asked.

  “I’m going to do some filming with the boat, remember I told you?” I replied.

  His eyes widened. “I forgot. Can I come?”

  “No, Finn, you can’t come with me this time, but I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

  It was the last week of the school holidays. We’d had a good time with my dad and stepmum at the campground, despite a few gli
tches in the system.

  When we arrived at the van the boys were beside themselves with excitement.

  “Yippee! There’s our little house!” Finn squealed. Both he and Reef couldn’t get through the door quick enough, zipping round like live wires, deciding who was sleeping where. Kate used to encourage them when they behaved like that, no doubt remembering her own exciting childhood trips to campgrounds. It drove me nuts, as I preferred to unpack and get settled in peace before starting to relax. I used to leave Kate to deal with the boys while I lugged in the bags and supplies, and this time I decided I’d just try to work around them. It was a big mistake. They were like wasps at a barbecue, buzzing in my face every five minutes.

  “Where’s the bag I asked you to put in the car—the one with the pajamas and toothbrushes?”

  “It’s in my bedroom,” Reef said.

  “Which bedroom—the one in the van?”

  “No, my bedroom at home!”

  “Reef, I don’t believe this! What good are they at home? It’s the only thing I asked you to do.”

  Reef was upset at being told off and sulked, while Finn didn’t seem to care about anything but bouncing on the beds and getting under my feet.

  I swear I had hot steam coming out of my nostrils by the time I’d unpacked. Kate would have double-checked the bags and Kate would have run round like an excited little girl, instead of simmering with tension like me. Ruth had been very kind when she told me I was coping so well as a single parent, but was it true? How could I possibly give the boys as good an upbringing as Kate and I would have done together? That day, I felt like I had one hand tied behind my back, and I couldn’t see how I was going to pull it free.

  I did eventually manage to relax that week, cooking barbecues and swimming and canoeing with the boys, but I realized it was perhaps good timing that I was going to escape on my own for a few days with The Matthew.

  When we left the camper I delivered the boys to my mum and stepdad in Devon and said my good-byes, kissing both boys twice.

  “I won’t be away for long, be good now for Nanny and Brian,” I told them.

  “Tell us everything when you get back!” Reef said.

  “Of course I will. I’ll take photos too, and you do the same.”

  The Matthew looked fantastic, with Narnia emblazoned in purple on the sail, a huge dragon’s head constructed on the bow and a swishing tail attached to the stern. The plan was to sail round Land’s End to St. Michael’s Mount and Falmouth, making stops on the way at Padstow, Tintagel, Lundy and the Scillies, where the competition winners would carry out a series of outdoor pursuit challenges.

  As well as having 4 Saints as an escort vessel, we also had the Mabel Alice lifeboat accompanying us, as the safety of the guests was paramount. The initial journey threading our way between Steep Holm and Flat Holm down the Bristol Channel was pretty horrendous. The weather wasn’t too bad, but the waters were incredibly choppy, and certainly not what we were hoping for in late August. Conditions were getting steadily worse, and it was decided we’d head to Ilfracombe and wait in the safety of the port rather than continue our journey down to Land’s End.

  Unfortunately, as the tide went out that evening The Matthew rolled on to a moored steel ferry called the Oldenburg, causing some minor damage to The Matthew’s wooden superstructure. We had to attach a rope from my boat to the top of The Matthew’s mast to pull her free, and everybody panicked for a good few hours until the tide finally came back in and The Matthew was able to set sail again at around 10:30 p.m.

  I’d been awake for almost twenty-four hours by this point, and decided I ought to get some sleep below deck on the Mabel Alice. I didn’t feel very comfortable with the arrangements. Both boats had volunteers among their crew, some very young and inexperienced, and if I hadn’t been so tired I’m sure I wouldn’t have slept a wink.

  I was crammed into a small bunk, and it took some time for me to actually fall asleep. My mind was ticking over, worrying about what tomorrow might bring. I tried to think about the boys and what adventure stories we might be able to swap at the end of the week. It was lonely on the lifeboat in the dark, and I eventually drifted off thinking about Kate, imagining what she would make of this trip.

  I thought about her instruction to “Make scrapbook of your adventures” and I reckoned she would approve. I pictured her making her own scrapbooks, sticking in airline tickets and restaurant receipts among the captioned photographs of us smiling on foreign beaches.

  I could see Kate’s girly handwriting, and I imagined one of her old love letters coming to life in my sleepy head. I saw it floating toward me on the water, like a message in a bottle, except there was no bottle.

  Kate wrote it when she was on a family holiday to Switzerland with her parents. It was 1987; I could see the date written neatly in black fountain pen. “I dreamed about you last night,” she is saying. Kate is reading the words to me; I can feel her warm breath on my ear.

  I see a teenage Katie lying on her own in a single bed in a hotel room. “Another night down, twelve to go,” she is whispering in the dark as she writes to me. “It rained most of the day with a few thunderstorms. I am missing you so much. I am dreaming of you. Please make sure we are together forever one day. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you . . .”

  I see Kate blow three kisses to me as she draws them on the end of the letter. “I have to go now, I love you acres and acres, love Katie xxx.” She starts to float away, and in my dream I am jumping off the side of the boat and searching for her in the water, trying to swim to her fading face and body as fast as I can, before she vanishes from view.

  The moon above is a giant Disney-style clock, and each stroke I swim in the cold, dark water seems to turn the hands anti-clockwise. I am trying to swim to Switzerland, trying to turn back time. There are sharks circling the waters around me.

  “Watch out!” someone screams.

  It sounds like Kate.

  “Sharks don’t sleep at night!” the voice shouts.

  “Watch out! Help! What’s happening?”

  It’s not Kate’s voice anymore, and the screams are piercing. Something is wrong, and I am in danger. I see the giant dragon’s head of the Dawn Treader staring at me in close-up. I panic, my heart thumping. Another voice starts shouting, and then another.

  “Look out! Oi! Be careful—what’s going on?”

  I can feel my brain slosh from side to side in my skull as I’m pushed by the waves. Kate is in danger! I have to get to Kate or she might slip away from me forever! I snap open my eyes in panic to look for her and immediately realize I am all alone, lying in a bunk in the darkness, on board the Mabel Alice.

  My dream is over, but the voices are still screaming. Confused, I jumped out of bed in my shorts and ran to the deck to find out what all the fuss was about.

  “Anchor’s slipped,” I heard the lifeguard shout. “We’re colliding with The Matthew!”

  My heart sank like a stone and I watched, helpless, as the Mabel Alice struck the side of The Matthew. It felt like another minor collision, thank goodness, but it had caused a huge commotion.

  “Don’t panic,” I said to some of the assembled crew and passengers who were shouting and upset, but it was 4 a.m., and it clearly wasn’t the best time for people to keep their heads. Seconds later, I felt the Mabel Alice speed unexpectedly into reverse. With the best of intentions, the captain had tried to limit the damage by getting the lifeboat well away from The Matthew as quickly as possible.

  The trouble was, he forgot 4 Saints was on the back of the lifeboat, and he reversed into my rib with a deafening smash. I watched in absolute horror as my damaged boat bobbed free of the stern, adrift. I slid aboard 4 Saints from the Mabel Alice to survey the mess. The console and windscreen were smashed to pieces and I just about managed to get her started so I could limp away and u
tter a few choice words in the darkness, out of earshot. I looked up at the sky. Kate would have been spitting tacks too, but she would have told me to stay calm. It could all be fixed on the insurance. I knew that, but I was absolutely devastated about how the boys would react.

  I replayed in my head that moment when Reef first spotted the boat. “I’d love a boat like that!” I could hear him saying it, and I could see both boys grinning like Cheshire cats when I told them the rib was ours. We’d had 4 Saints for just five months, and now we’d be without her for months on end while she went away for repair. The boat was the boys’ pride and joy, and I was absolutely gutted for them.

  I spent a miserable, difficult three hours scuba diving to help cut the Mabel Alice free, as my bowline had been wound around her propeller in the accident, crippling her.

  The Matthew had continued her journey, taking all my kit, including my phone and wallet, with her. I eventually caught her, even though 4 Saints was limping along, and once I’d retrieved my belongings I had to arrange for my dad to collect me and 4 Saints, so he could take the battered rib home while I traveled overland to meet The Matthew in Padstow.

  When I finally rejoined the group and we reached Tintagel Castle later that morning, I’d managed to cheer up a bit. I taught a group of children archery and gave them a snorkeling lesson at Rock. They did some filming for the DVD, which all went smoothly, and most of the youngsters were oblivious to the drama that had played out in the early hours, which was exactly as it should be. “All’s well that ends well,” I thought.

  Driving back to pick up the boys, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened and I found myself dwelling on Kate’s wish, “Kiss good-bye even if leaving for a short time.” What if things had gone really badly wrong, and something had happened to me? I felt a pang of deep-seated worry. It reminded me of the day Kate died, when I told the boys Mummy was dead. I remembered the overwhelming sense of responsibility I felt as a single parent, and that same feeling flooded my body again.