by Vivien Brown
*
Barbara Freeman rang early in the afternoon. She was having some kind of strategy meeting with the police to talk about what had happened and whether any legal action was likely to be taken for neglect. Michael cringed when she used that word. It all sounded so terrible, that between them, he and Ruby had failed their daughter and were about to be branded as bad parents, or worse.
‘There will then be a full meeting – a case conference, we call it – within the next week or so, so we can determine if Lily needs to become the subject of a child protection plan. That will include ourselves, the police, probably someone from Lily’s nursery … We will need to study Ruby’s own social services records, including the children’s home where I understand she spent a good part of her childhood, in care. We do need to get the full picture, you see.’
‘You’re talking about putting Lily’s name on some kind of at-risk register? Like kids from violent homes? With drunken fathers who beat them up, and drug addicts for mothers?’
‘Not necessarily, but yes, that’s essentially what a plan does. But it happens for all sorts of reasons. Nobody is suggesting that you or Ruby are violent, or fall into those categories at all, or that Ruby’s own childhood history necessarily has any bearing, but we do have to do whatever is needed to make sure Lily is safe, that she’s not left alone again, not put in unnecessary danger or left in a position of vulnerability …’
‘I see.’
‘It’s looking unlikely that Ruby herself will be well enough to attend, but I would appreciate it if you could be there, Mr Payne. Your mother too, if you believe she is going to continue to play a significant part in your daughter’s life. Don’t worry. It’s not as frightening as it may sound, but it is a serious matter. Some kind of close supervision is almost certainly going to be required, if Lily is to stay with Ruby, so we can keep an eye on things for a while. I’m sure you’ll want to have your say, and to be party to any decisions that are made about Lily’s future.’ She promised to come back with a date and a time as soon as things had been arranged, then rang off.
Michael collapsed into a chair. Lily’s future? Much as he may have had his moments with Ruby, bad moments, he had never envisaged a time when Lily’s future might not be spent with Ruby. Was she really a bad mother, the kind to neglect her child – to go out and knowingly leave her alone? You only had to have seen her and Lily together earlier on, clinging to each other on that hospital bed, to know that she loved her. So, why? What could possibly have gone so horribly wrong, in the few months since he had left?
He had tried to help where he could, but this was no longer just about him visiting or sending money. If there was some doubt about Ruby’s competence or her ability to care for Lily properly, then he had to step up to the plate now and do more – whatever it took – to keep those two together. Because, however he felt about Ruby, he could never be party to anything that took Lily away from her.
*
‘I don’t know if you have any plans.’ William shuffled from one foot to the other on the doorstep. ‘But I have an hour or two to kill now. Waiting for paint to dry, basically. Oh, dear, that sounds like some old cliché, doesn’t it? What people do when they’re bored! Sit and watch paint dry. Which I’m not, by the way! Bored, I mean. But I just wondered … Well, if you might fancy a run out somewhere in the car?’
Geraldine watched him fiddling with his collar, tiny specks of paint still freckling the backs of his hands. The poor man looked flustered. She couldn’t think why.
‘It’s not a bad sort of a day, weather-wise, and I imagine there can’t be an awful lot for you to do, you know, to keep you occupied, when you’re away from home like this. Not brought your knitting or your library book with you, I bet. Perhaps a bit of a walk, tea and scones in a little teashop, or maybe visit an art gallery? Whatever you fancy, really. What do you say?’
‘But what about Lily?’
‘Oh, bring her with you if you like. I don’t mind. You have the kiddy car seat now, after all.’
‘do you know, William, I think perhaps she would benefit from spending a few hours with just her father. A bit of bonding time. I’m sure he would too, after the news he’s just received. But I can tell you about that as we drive, can’t I?’
‘You’ll come then?’
‘Of course. Why not? I’d love to. Do I need my coat, do you think?’
‘Not a bad idea. It’s quite a nice day, but you never know when the rain might decide to come back.’
‘Pop inside for a mo then, while I find it. Can’t have you hanging about on the landing. I’ll just need to say goodbye to Michael and Lily, and tell them where I’m going. Where are we going, by the way? Only, you mentioned tea and, to be honest, I seem to have drunk nothing but tea – and the occasional coffee – since I got here. I’m swimming in the stuff. I don’t suppose we could run to something a bit stronger, could we?’
‘Pub?’
‘Sounds good.’
‘By the river? Watch the boats go by?’
‘Sounds perfect.’
Within minutes she was sitting beside him in the car and they were weaving their way through the traffic. While he concentrated on getting past a bus that had stopped to disgorge a gaggle of noisy schoolchildren she studied his profile. He wasn’t bad looking for a man of his age. What must he be? Fifty-six? Fifty-eight? Just a little younger than she was, she’d guess. His hair still had some colour to it, despite the greying around the ears, and he did have rather nice eyes. A dusky kind of brown, from what she could see behind his glasses, which were already starting to darken in the sunlight.
‘You mentioned news?’ he said, glancing across at her briefly before returning his attention to the road. ‘Not bad news, I hope?’
‘The woman we saw at the hospital. Children’s Services. They’re planning some kind of meeting to talk about Lily. Michael’s worried they may try to take her away from Ruby, or watch her like a hawk from now on, at the very least.’
‘They wouldn’t give her to strangers though, surely? Not when she has a dad and a gran who could have her?’
‘Who knows what they have in mind? I wouldn’t want to take her away from her mummy, and neither would Michael. That wasn’t what we came here for. To see her, re-establish some kind of regular contact, have her for a little holiday, that was all. We’re waiting to find out when this meeting’s likely to be, then perhaps we can still take her down to the sea for a few days. She’ll enjoy that, I think, after what she’s been through.’
‘It must have been tough. How’s she coping?’
‘Surprisingly well. She’s sleeping okay, by and large, as long as we leave the light on and she has that toy of hers to cuddle up to. Just one bad dream, but it soon passed. Remarkably resilient, aren’t they? Kids.’
‘I wouldn’t know really. Not had a lot of experience with children myself.’
‘Oh, you never had any? I’m sorry. I hope that didn’t sound horribly insensitive.’
‘Not at all. Just one of those things. A fact of life. Now, let’s head for the bridge, shall we? I think we’ll have better luck finding somewhere suitable on the other side. Have you eaten? I know it’s a bit of a funny time for a meal, but I’m actually quite peckish. I seem to have got by today so far on Weetabix and custard creams.’
‘Ha! Me too, but it was cornflakes, and a couple of digestive biscuits with your mum, in my case.’
‘Excellent!’ He put his foot down as the lights went green and they drove onto the bridge. Below them the river shimmered in the sun, its streaky grey surface moving and rocking with the remains of the tide, little boats chugging up and down purposefully, a bunch of gulls swarming and squawking overhead, reminding her of home.
‘Oh, I do love London. I should come up more often.’
‘Yes, you should.’
They drove on in silence for a while, the busy streets and tall buildings gradually giving way to more open space, more room to breathe. William opened both wind
ows by a few inches, and a gentle breeze wafted across the insides of the car and out again, ruffling Geraldine’s hair.
‘It’s very good of you, William, to look after us all like this,’ she said, turning towards him, her hand touching his sleeve before quickly pulling back. ‘The driving, the shopping, sorting out the computer for Michael. And now you’re fixing the ceiling, so we don’t have to worry about contacting the landlord or claiming on the insurance – your mother told me. I mean it, it’s more than we could have expected. And if there’s any expense involved in that, you must let me know.’
‘Oh, I had the paint already lying around doing nothing and plenty of time on my hands too, so it’s no trouble. Beats sitting around, knitting!’
They both laughed.
‘For all you know, I might love knitting. If only I had the time.’
‘And you don’t?’
‘Every spare minute gets used up running the shop, or worrying about it. Behind the counter, at the wholesalers, balancing the books. It’s taken over my life, what with everything falling on my shoulders now, since my Ken died. We used to do it together, you see. It was easier then. A pleasure, even. Something we shared. I don’t even know why I’m still doing it, on my own, and at my age.’
‘Then why are you? Couldn’t you retire early, start enjoying life, pass it all on to Michael?’
‘Oh, I’ve suggested it, but he’s not interested. Especially now he’s working abroad, with this Patsy girl.’
‘Sell up then?’
Geraldine leaned back in her seat and gently rolled her head around in small circles, stretching her tense neck muscles. ‘It’s a possibility, that’s for sure. And one I’ve been thinking about lately. But I do have another plan. An idea I’ve been toying with. I’m just not sure if it could work …’ Her voice faded into a thoughtful silence and William didn’t press her to explain.
‘Ah, here we are. This place looks okay, don’t you think? Tables out by the water. A nice bit of grass.’ He pulled the car off the road and slid it into a corner space in the car park.
Before she could even unclip her seatbelt he was out and walking round to her side of the car, opening her door, offering his arm. ‘Madam?’ he said, bowing slightly and raising an imaginary hat. ‘Shall we?’ And, arm in arm – how exactly had that happened? – they strolled across the car park to the little terrace and selected a table looking out across the river, before William disappeared inside to find a menu and order the drinks.
‘Oh,’ Geraldine said, very quietly, to herself, as the realisation of her situation began to sink in. ‘I think I just might be on a date.’ Pulling her coat around her shoulders at the sudden shiver that ran through her, she wasn’t at all sure how that made her feel.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Ruby
I saw Lily today. Properly saw her, not just a blurry vision, at the back of the room, that I wasn’t sure was real. I touched her and held her, and let myself cry into her hair. Not that I could have stopped myself if I’d tried. But, after that, when they’d all gone, someone from the police came and asked me questions. About how I left her, and when, and why.
It is starting to come back. As my head clears and the fog lifts. Only snatches. It’s as if it’s all there, waiting to be remembered, but just out of reach. I didn’t do it on purpose though. I never would. I know that. I hope they know it too.
All I want now is to get better and get out of here and be with her again. I told them how much I love her, but I’m not sure they really cared about that. They certainly didn’t write it down.
They say they know who ran me down. Some young lad. Said he just panicked and drove off after he’d hit me, but his conscience got the better of him and he handed himself in within half an hour of it happening. They asked if I remembered anything about it, about being hit, but I don’t. Not a thing. Look what he’s done to me. It’s all his fault. It must be. What happened to me. To Lily. He kept me away from her. Kept me here.
But it seems there were witnesses, and they say I just stepped out, head down, not looking, that the driver didn’t stand a chance. The police say they are unlikely to press any charges for dangerous driving or anything like that. For driving off, maybe, leaving the scene, but not for hitting me. So, he gets off scot free while I …
Oh, God. It’s not nice, talking to the police. Raking over rights and wrongs, feeling like a criminal, when it’s me that’s the victim. The nurses didn’t let them stay long though, that’s one good thing. Needs her rest, they said. I could feel my hands shaking, while I spoke to them, and again now, when I reach to my throat, to Lily’s cross, like I always do when I’m nervous, but it’s not there. I must ask someone about that. I hope it wasn’t stolen – anything could have happened while I was gone. Anything.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
William wandered from room to room. He had loved this old house once. Years ago, when he’d first moved in and its high ceilings and creamy walls rang with possibilities. He was going to buy big furniture, hold parties, take up gardening, make wine. But none of that had happened.
He had been used to a small bachelor flat before. The vastness of the space suddenly available to him came as a shock. There was much more hoovering to do, and some of it on stairs, which he never did get the hang of. Two loos and a much bigger kitchen to keep clean, cobwebs taunting him from high-up corners, bigger bills to pay.
Within months he was wondering if he had made a mistake. By the time he got home from work he couldn’t face the housework. The place, like himself, began to take on a tired air and the parties dream just seemed to fade away. Dust settled on his few ornaments, so he packaged them away in boxes. Who needed souvenirs of holidays he could barely remember? Or ornate vases, when he didn’t know one end of a flower from the other and on the odd occasion he had bought himself a bunch they’d died within days. Outside, there were the weeds and lawnmowing to contend with, cracks in the driveway, paint starting to peel from the window frames. He allowed himself to settle into a kind of cluttered, dusty, make-do existence. If no one saw it all or had to live amongst it but himself, then why should it matter?
Then, along had come Susan. And he knew then what the house, and he, had needed. A woman’s touch. Now, as he looked at his home with a critical eye, he could see that, since she had gone, things had reverted to the way they’d been before she came. He was not good at domesticity. Like his mother, he was just ticking along, biding his time, living in a place that was too big for one, that had no real meaning for him now and knowing deep down that life could be better somewhere else but not knowing where that somewhere might be. At least his mother was determined to do something about it. All he felt was a numbing apathy that, if he wasn’t careful, would see him slip slowly into a lonely cobwebby old age.
He had really enjoyed his afternoon out with Geraldine today. Oh, nothing had actually happened between them. They’d not fallen into each other’s arms and declared undying passion. Nothing like that. A couple of drinks and a bite to eat by the river, watching the swans glide by, chatting about nondescript things. It had taken him out of himself. Did that make any sense? He wasn’t sure, but it had been a new experience, being with a woman who wasn’t out to belittle him, who wanted nothing from him, one who looked at him as if he was a man who might have something interesting to say.
When he’d dropped her back at the flats, he’d been tempted to ask her out again, to tell her what a difference she had made to his day, to reach out and kiss her on the cheek, but it had not felt right. He had no idea how she might feel. Or how he felt himself. She would be off back to the coast any day now so there was no real future in any of it. Which was a shame.
He hadn’t gone in. Agnes asking questions was the last thing he needed, so he’d seen Geraldine as far as the door, got back in the car and just driven. He couldn’t even remember now where he’d gone. Just around, with the windows down, letting the cool air start to clear his head, waiting for his thoughts to settle.
The house sighed around him. Agnes was right. Well, she usually was, of course. Sometimes you just had to take the bull by the horns and make things happen. Good things. Positive things. They sure as hell didn’t happen all by themselves.
He wondered what the house might be worth these days. It was a good part of London. Desirable, as the estate agents would undoubtedly say as they rang up the pound signs in their heads. What exactly was keeping him here? Without Susan, without a job, he had no ties any more. Except his mother, and she wanted to get out too. Would it be so bad to contemplate moving somewhere new, maybe even doing it together? Property outside London was so much cheaper. If they were to pool their resources they could afford something big enough to allow them each their own space. Maybe a house with a separate granny annexe, or two houses in the same street. Enough to be able to keep an eye on her without living in each other’s pockets. There’d be plenty of money over to pay a cleaner. He’d had enough of battling with that damn vacuum, with its tubes and attachments and clogged filters, and his mother wasn’t up to it these days, her arthritic knees growing stiffer and creakier by the day, although she was still surprisingly nifty with an iron.
Would she want to do that? Buy somewhere together? He didn’t have to say anything to her yet. Wouldn’t want it to look like he was pushing her into anything, making decisions for her again, or making assumptions that she was getting past the living alone stage and might need a bit more support. No, one step at a time. It was just a vague idea at the moment. He’d check out the house prices on the internet first, see what he might get for this old place.
He almost ran up to the third bedroom, the one he laughingly called the study despite it being more of a junk room now, filled with stuff he hadn’t looked at in months, and a tatty desk in the corner. But when he got there the desk had nothing on it but a couple of chewed pencils, and he remembered that he’d lent his laptop to Michael. He’d have to go round tomorrow to ask for it back. Then he might get to see Geraldine again, if she was in. It was the perfect excuse.
