by Rebecca Shaw
‘Can I be honest?’ When Oliver nodded she carried on. ‘I am ashamed to admit it but you know I had my doubts about taking on you two boys. Too much work, too much trouble, too disturbing to my routine and worst of all I didn’t know how to speak to boys. And I might not have learnt how to speak to boys properly yet – but I realise I was wrong about everything else. Honestly, I want you to stay with us, more than I can say. You really must believe that. Graham will get this school matter sorted and then we can begin to think about Christmas and your grandparents coming and presents and things. So don’t you be concerned about anything, with Uncle Graham batting on your side nothing will go wrong, will it Graham?’
Graham, not quite himself after their traumatic night, wasn’t up to the plate with his reactions. Could she really be saying those words out loud to Oliver? And could he possibly be this invincible person Myra was suggesting? Batting on the side of the boys . . . and her? Well, if she believed in him, he’d better not let them down.
‘Of course we’ll sort it out. There isn’t much left of the night but we’ll sleep for a while and then we’ll go to school in my car and get this whole matter settled. I could ask to keep you at home the rest of the day while they get to the bottom of it, or you could stay if you feel that’s what you want to do.’
How clever of Graham to give Oliver options so he could decide for himself what was best thought Myra. There was far more to Graham than she had imagined all these years. No that wasn’t accurate – there was far more to him than she would permit him to be. What on earth had been the matter with her? Why hadn’t she realised sooner and asked for help. Instead she’d locked herself away with only tea cosies for company. Her skin prickled at her foolishness. A new idea had come into her mind the other day. She might not have had any creative spark for years – but she did have once, and it might just have been waiting for someone like Oliver to reignite it.
Chapter 15
Graham rang Myra from the office. ‘I’ve been to school, Oliver wants to stay there for the day so you can expect him home at the usual time. The headmaster is investigating further, they’re not accusing anyone of anything yet, just gathering facts and nothing more will be said to Oliver without my permission. I’ve given him my office number too.’
‘Thank goodness.’
‘Myra . . .’
‘Yes?’
‘Have a nice day,’ he finished off, rather lamely.
Myra sensed there was something else he’d wanted to say and replied with a warm tone in her voice, ‘And you, Graham, and thanks for dealing with the school, that’s the kind of support Oliver needs. See you later on.’
Having tidied the kitchen, put the first load of washing in and generally cleared up, Myra knew exactly where she was going next, somewhere she’d never been before despite the fact that Viv came across to their house so frequently.
She took in a deep breath and rang the doorbell. Viv opened it with difficulty, as hers was the kind of house where everyone, including the window cleaner and the milkman, always went to the back door.
‘Yes?’ said Viv, arms folded across her chest in a defensive attitude.
‘I’m here to apologise most sincerely for speaking to you like I did. There was no need for it, but I was so upset. The police brought him home during the night.’
Viv’s warm heart responded to the apology immediately because she knew what it had cost Myra to say it.
She opened the door wider saying, ‘I’m so glad he’s safe. Come in, all is forgiven. Tell me all about it.’
Myra was so pleased that when she stepped inside she surprised even herself and hugged Viv, twice for good measure. Myra was not normally a hugging sort person, not the slightest bit touchy-feely. But here she was trying new things every day, it seemed.
Viv’s house wasn’t as immaculate as her own, her furniture was battered but welcoming and her kitchen not even close to being as smart as hers, but for once it didn’t bother Myra, she was just so glad to be back on friendly terms with Viv. They sat down at her tiny kitchen table and Viv put the kettle on.
‘Well, go on then, tell me why and where.’ She handed Myra her mug of coffee and sat down opposite her, eager to hear the story.
‘So things are better over at number twelve then?’ Viv said, choosing her words with the greatest care, when she was up to date.
‘Better?’
‘Yes.’ Viv took a sip of her coffee. ‘Well, you made no secret of the fact that you didn’t want the boys at first. But now it seems . . . different.’
Myra studied Viv’s kitchen curtains intently and didn’t speak for a minute or so. ‘I’ve been the biggest fool.’
‘You have?’
Myra nodded, she got up to look out at the back garden. Being winter there wasn’t much life in it but it was well tended all the same, with a lot of promise of spring in its neat flower beds carefully raked and free of weeds, and the climbing plants pruned and slumbering until the warmth of the sun would wake them. It seemed to reflect Myra’s mood. ‘My life’s like your garden; waiting to be enjoyed.’
Profound statements of this nature were not Myra’s modus operandi at all, so Viv remained silent and let her carry on.
‘I’m realising that though I missed my chance to have children myself, in a roundabout way I’ve got some and it’s best if I get on with life and enjoy them. They’ve had enough grief in their short lives – why should they have to suffer mine as well? If they can be happy after all they’ve lost, I need to look at myself. I’ve missed so much all these years of being . . . a misery.’
Viv daren’t answer. She looked at Myra’s back and waited still and silent.
‘I was so devastated when I lost that second baby, when it was so close to life and yet so far. I couldn’t imagine a future for me. It poisoned me, through and through. Last night thinking we’d lost Oliver . . . I clung to Graham, relying on him to get Oliver back for us. Silly really when I haven’t relied on Graham for anything emotional all these years since . . . but last night I did. Last night I was glad to have him to hold on to. He’s a pillar of strength in truth and I should have relied on him when we lost the baby, then things might have been diffferent.’
‘It’s difficult to be sensible when you’re badly hurt.’
Myra turned back from the window and sat down again. ‘My coffee’s going cold.’
‘I’ll heat it up for you.’
While she waited Myra said, ‘Thanks for sticking with me while I’ve been a misery.’
‘I just felt you needed someone.’
‘I did, but I didn’t acknowledge it.’
‘Well, you have now. Here you are.’
‘Thanks.’
They sat in companionable silence until Myra said, ‘How about lunch in town, just the two of us? Have you got time? Say no if you don’t want to. Perhaps you’re too busy?’
‘I’ve always got time for enjoying myself. I’ll need to get changed.’
‘So will I and I must get another load of washing in too, I’ve a huge pile. Back here in an hour?’
‘Let’s go in the car in case we shop.’
‘Right, you’re on.’
And they laughed like two naughty children planning an exciting secret escapade.
Chapter 16
Myra hurried to get the evening meal in the oven. Dressed in some of the clothes she’d bought just before Oliver went missing, she felt like she was starting her new life, her new beginning. The red sweater she wore was brighter than anything she’d owned in years, and the straight navy skirt was stretchy and fitted, unlike the others she owned that could quite easily have hung in her mother’s wardrobe rather than her own. Over the top she’d put on one of her old aprons so as not to drip anything on her new outfit. This was her first plunge into being a modern mother. Well, not exactly, she still had a long way to go. But to the world, to the people she saw in town, in the shops or the cafe where they ate, she now looked like a mother of two young sons, not a dowdy faded old misery-
guts, beaten by life as she had been. She caught a glimpse of herself as she passed the hall mirror and paused to take stock.
It was a good start, but instantly she knew that the hairdressers was the next move. First thing tomorrow morning after she’d taken Piers to school, she wouldn’t come straight home and tackle the ironing, she’d get her hair done. Myra turned sideways to examine her shoes. Ten years in flats and now she had her first pair heels in a decade. Small enough to walk in easily, the heels did a lot towards making her legs look almost elegant. Tomorrow she’d go back to the same shoe shop, she thought and buy another pair – with heels perhaps a little higher than these navy ones. Black patent perhaps. Then she’d go back to the department store and choose another outfit for every day. And perhaps even something to wear in case they went out in the evening. But before all that she couldn’t wait for Graham to get home. Tonight it would be a small surprise, but tomorrow night a big one.
Piers hadn’t see her new skirt and sweater until she took off her coat when they got home. He was delighted. ‘Oh Myra! You do look nice. You nearly match Uncle Graham now.’
Myra forgot herself and almost asked for more approval. ‘Only nearly?’
‘Yes. Because he had a fancy haircut to match his new clothes and that means you can have one, too. If you want to, of course.’
Myra knew he was right. ‘I’ll see to that tomorrow. It’ll be a new Auntie Myra tomorrow night waiting outside school. You won’t know me. I promise.’ She heard Oliver opening the front door and put her finger to her lips and winked. She hadn’t winked for years, consequently it was verging on grotesque, but Piers sensed she was trying hard and winked back without a comment.
Oliver had been equally as impressed as Piers and the two boys couldn’t wait for Graham to get home. Graham walked in just as the casserole was placed on the kitchen table. Having missed lunch he was longing for food. The sight of his wife smiling, in a bright colour she’d not worn for years, and the two boys beaming with delight at his arrival, filled him with deep pleasure. This, he thought, is what coming home really means.
‘My word! Myra, you look great!’ Graham leaned towards her and kissed her with an enthusiasm that both the boys realised was different from before. This time they could sense he meant the kiss, he wasn’t just being polite.
Myra blushed and waved the soup ladle in the air saying, ‘Beef casserole?’
Oliver managed to smother his grin and Piers remembered to keep quiet about the surprises Myra was organising for tomorrow.
But their joy did not last for very long. Something happened that night which threw the Butler world into chaos yet again.
The two boys were preparing to go to bed. Oliver wanted to watch a programme about rugby but Myra had said it was a school night and he needed to get his sleep so he agreed to get ready for bed with Piers and then go as soon as the programme finished.
Piers called out from the bathroom, ‘There’s someone crying outside! Uncle Graham, did you hear me? They’re in the garden.’
Graham went outside to see for himself. Turning on the outside light, Graham peered into the shadows. Right there beside the greenhouse was a small dog. A black and tan terrier, laid on its side and obviously in pain. Tentatively, Graham extended a hand to him thinking he might bite. He’d no experience with dogs whatsoever, never having been allowed to have one when he lived at home and Myra had always thought pets were unyhgienic – until she met Little Pete.
The dog couldn’t get to his feet, he tried but didn’t succeed. ‘Myra! Bring me a torch. Please.’ He waited but Myra didn’t come. He shouted louder. ‘A torch, Myra, please!’
Eventually Myra came. When she shone the torch on the dog she said, ‘Don’t bring him in the house. I don’t want it. If it’s a stray it’ll be riddled with fleas and worms and things. Don’t let it in. Do you hear me?’
‘But . . .’
‘I mean it. I don’t like dogs.’ She never had. All her life she never had and this one was not coming into the house. ‘No buts about it.’
‘Myra! The poor thing’s in pain.’ Graham protested.
All the changes wrought in her by the two boys had disappeared in a flash and the old Myra returned. Full strength. ‘Leave it out here till tomorrow, perhaps then it will be dead – which would be a mercy, then you can bury it.’
She hadn’t noticed the children had followed her out and Piers wept painful searing howls of despair at her words.
Oliver, close to tears himself, felt the agony of the little dog’s pain. In a strangulated voice he whispered, ‘He’s only a baby. A little baby. Please, Myra. We can’t leave him to die, not on our own doorstep. He’s a puppy. He needs his mum.’ Inside himself he knew how that felt. Oliver Butler needed his mum even if he’d no memories of her. ‘Please Myra. Please, let’s take him in.’
Graham, once again became the man of the moment. ‘The vets have an all-night clinic in case of emergencies, I know someone at work had to get them up in the night because their dog was terribly ill. They’re just off the High Street. They’ve got the works, operating theatres and everything apparently. I’ll ring them up and take him. Or her. I can’t tell in the dark. Myra, can you bring an old blanket and that cardboard box the new microwave came in. Right now. Please.’
Myra didn’t move an inch. The three men in her life waited for her to move. But she didn’t. Oliver said, ‘I know where the box is.’
Graham said softly to Myra. ‘Right now, Myra, please. Please.’
‘I’m not coming near it.’
‘I know you’re not, I’ll pick him up if you can just get a blanket. Oliver, you and Piers stay close to him, talk softly to comfort him, keep him still. I’ll phone the vets and let them know we’re coming.’
Myra scorned his suggestion. ‘It’s a waste of time. They won’t be open for animals all night, Graham, they’re not human beings are they now?’
‘I’m telling you they do. We can’t leave him crying all night with the pain he’s in.’
The puppy made absolutely sure they knew he was in pain because he howled as he struggled to get more comfortable. Piers shed even more tears if that was possible, murmuring, ‘Please, Myra, I’ll go and get the blanket. Where do you keep them?’
Though it choked her to say it, she admitted there was one in the top of the blanket box on the landing. ‘The purple one, that’s the tattiest.’
Piers had raced off inside the house almost before she’d finished speaking. Oliver found the cardboared box in the garage and rushed back as Piers came down with the purple blanket.
‘Now,’ said Graham using his you-can-rely-on-me voice, ‘they perhaps won’t be able to operate or whatever they want to do for him at this time of night, but one thing’s for certain, they will give him pain relief and make him comfortable. So you boys must go to bed right now and get some sleep. Myra will stay here, won’t you, and I’ll let you both know everything that happens in the morning.’
Reluctantly Myra nodded her agreement and winced just as much as the boys did when the puppy howled as Graham gently lifted him into the box.
She made more hot chocolate for the boys and persuaded them they must sleep because the puppy was in the very best place he could be right now. ‘Where better than a vets for a sick dog?’ she asked.
She went to bed angry and disappointed with herself. She’d thought that anger, that fear, had left her. But it turned out it was still there, waiting. How could she be such a crazy mixed-up person all wrapped into one? This new Myra with the two boys and Pete the rabbit and the new clothes was what people saw, but there right under the surface was the old Myra lying in wait. How could that be? She thought about all the ways in which she’d changed – and not just the big things, like how she felt about the boys and Graham, but the little things like hugging Viv or letting a rabbit play in the house. So why had this puppy somehow changed her back to the old Myra in an instant. Before she knew it, there was that fearful, isolated, withdrawn Myra in all her
terrible self-righteous glory.
Unnerved by her outburst she’d gone to bed in Graham’s bed. Quite why she didn’t know. She wanted to talk to him when he got back, but it was more than that. It was comforting. For herself, she didn’t really want to know what had become of the puppy. But she was concerned for the boys’ sake. They’d be upset when the vets found out who it belonged to and with any luck, they’d return it directly and that would be it.
She’d just check to see if the boys had got to sleep yet. Myra crept into their bedroom. Piers was asleep, his face tear-stained but at least he slept. She bent over him and placed a very gentle kiss on his forehead, pulled the duvet closely round his neck and tucked one of his bare feet back under the bottom edge of the duvet too. Then she stood smiling at him. Remembering the happy time they’d spent together when he’d come home from school earlier in the day.
‘I need tucking in too.’
Myra jumped with fright. Oh, it was Oliver. She hurriedly pulled herself together. ‘I was just coming to do that very thing.’ And she did. His duvet needed straightening, and in the half light she thought she’d give him a kiss too. On his forehead like with Piers, or was he too old for kisses? Then she recalled the night the police brought him home when he’d run away and how she’d hugged him, so she impulsively kissed his forehead.
‘Goodnight, Oliver.’
‘That little dog was desolate wasn’t it? It needs a good home like Piers and I have doesn’t it? Goodnight, Myra.’ In the half light Myra couldn’t see the slight smile on Oliver’s face as he settled down to sleep.
An hour later she heard Graham turning his key in the front door. At last! In the time she’d spent thinking after kissing the two boys she’d decided that first of all they’d do their level best to find to whom the puppy belonged, because surely to goodness the owners would be distraught. If he was truly homeless then she’d make sure the vet would find a deserving home for the poor thing. That was the kindest thing to do, because Myra Butler definitely did not want a dog. It was obvious Piers and Oliver were both taken with the little beggar. They didn’t need to say a word. She just knew they wanted to keep him. She thought she was getting better at this motherhood business but to add in a dog, and a young one at that, would set her back to square one.
