by Jane Davis
In a strange reversal of roles, my attitude towards my aunt and my godfather was one of parental concern. I began to feel responsible for their feelings.
Uncle Pete (after all these years it is still difficult to call him by any other name) had started acting erratically around me. I caught his sideways glances when he didn't think I was looking. I knew exactly what he was thinking. It's been staring me in the face all these years. How didn't I notice before? She has my chin and her eyes are spaced exactly the same width apart as mine. He was particularly tactile with me, touching my arm, putting a hand on my shoulder, hugging me before he left. And he tried to tackle some of the difficult subjects with me that I would have preferred to avoid. Money. Work. Wills. Disposal of the house. My feelings. The future. But more than that, the advice that he gave me changed dramatically. In the past, I went to Uncle Pete when I wanted the advice of an older, more experienced person, but didn't want the advice of a parent. He made me think about all of my options, both legal and illegal on some occasions, and warned me about the ramifications of the various paths, but never in the past had he told me what he thought I should do.
'I'm your godfather,' he explained when I challenged him. 'I've always taken that role very seriously. I'm responsible for your moral welfare, not legal advice.'
'I don't need you to change. Not on top of everything else.'
'I'm afraid that everything's changed and that probably includes me. There's only one thing that hasn't, and that is that I will always love you as if you were my own daughter.' I had been distracted but now he had my full attention and I watched as he bit his bottom lip and drew blood.
'You're bleeding,' I said, hoping that he would say something more.
He sucked on his bottom lip and seemed surprised to taste blood. 'So I am.'
'Did you ever want children of your own?' We were so close that I decided to try and draw him out, but his face looked so pained that I regretted it the moment the words were out.
He was distracted by shouts from outside.
'What's that racket?' he asked, striding to the bay window in the living room that overlooked the street and pulling back the net curtains. His face was turned away from me, but I could see that he had kept his hand close to his mouth.
'It's the tenants from next door. They're moving out today. Their landlord has told them that he is going to sell and they've decided to move on before they're pushed out.'
'No need. They would have been entitled to stay.' His voice was flat.
'I think they just wanted to be in control of the situation,' I said, thinking of Lydia's comments about my aunt's situation.
He scratched his head. 'Who owns the house? Do you know?'
'Thinking of moving in next door?' I joked.
'That's exactly what I'm thinking.' He turned back towards me, his face a little red, but otherwise recovered.
'You're kidding!' I was genuinely taken aback.
'I've got an embryo of an idea.' He was suddenly boy-like in his enthusiasm. 'I haven't thought it through yet, but hear me out. We're both orphans. I have a house that I'm kicking around in. You have a house – and I mean "you" collectively – that you're kicking around in, while Faye and your grandmother are cooped up in that flat of hers going stir crazy.'
'But Nana needs looking after. She's only with Faye until a place can be found for her in a home.'
'There's nothing wrong with your grandmother! I've known that woman for most of my sorry life and she's no more senile now than she was at forty. Difficult? Yes. Manipulative? Yes. But batty? No more than you or I. If you want to see her go downhill, put her into care. I saw what it did to my mother in a matter of months and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Does she really strike you as being ill?' he challenged.
'I thought she was behaving strangely, but now I'm not so sure.'
'She has lost two of the people she loved the most in the world and been thrown out of her own home. She's entitled to act a little strangely! God knows, I'd be climbing the walls if I was in her boat. I know it won't be easy, but with three of us, we could give her all the help she needs.'
'You're not suggesting that Aunty Faye moves in as well?'
'That's exactly what I'm thinking of! She'll have to do her bit as well. Of course, I'm not suggesting that we all live on top of each other. Or maybe I am! There would be enough room to turn the two houses into four flats if we wanted to. Or to have a bedroom and a sitting room each at the very least. How do you think she'll react to the idea?'
'She's going to hate it. Aunty Faye comes and goes as she pleases. She doesn't like to be tied down.'
'Given the choice, few of us do. But these are unusual times and we need be a bit creative. I know for a fact that your grandmother meant to live in this house until the day she dies. Your parents wouldn't want you to be turfed out of your home at a time like this. Your grandmother's will gave permission for your parents to live in the house for as long as they needed once she was gone, and they were to hold it in trust for the family. It would have gone to Faye and eventually to you. But, in the meanwhile, the lion's share belongs to her. It's her house and I know Faye thinks she means well, but she's wrong. Your grandmother should be allowed to come home.'
'Uncle Pete . . .' I paused, not quite sure how to ask the question. 'Do you and Aunty Faye actually get on? At all, I mean.' I thought of Aunty Faye referring to him as 'that dreadful man', of her suggestion that he had deliberately excluded her photos from his album as if he had erased her memory. And that was before we came to the question of the lies.
'Get on?' He looked stumped for a minute. 'We're both stubborn and set in our own ways and we've always fought like cats and dogs. But we have history.' I watched him flinch. 'We couldn't go our own ways even if we wanted to. That's almost as important as getting on. You're all family as far as I'm concerned.'
That was just it. We would be what was left of the Churcher family and the Alburys, all living under one roof. What had once been the roof of my family home.
'How much will all this cost?' I almost hoped that we could rule the idea out on the grounds of expense. This could go one of two ways. It would either be a complete disaster or the perfect solution. But the risk was too great.
'To you? Nothing! I have a house to sell. Don't worry about the money. I just want to know what you think about the idea.'
I nodded doubtfully. 'It could work.'
'Do you give me permission to try and track down the owner of the house next door and talk to Faye?'
Could he have a conversation about houses without talking about families? I wondered. Did this mean that he was ready for that conversation with my aunt?
'Are you sure it's what you want?' I wanted to be cautious, concerned that he would change his mind.
'What I want?' He looked as if he would burst. 'I get to try and do something right for a change. Opportunities like this are not to be missed.'
Part Eleven
Peter's Story
Chapter Thirty-nine
There was far less time between my return to my home town and the birth of the baby than we had expected. Maybe it was the stress of the move from the flat. Andrea was in familiar surroundings and didn't question the reason why she was going to stay with Uncle Pete. It was all an adventure to her. As long as she had her toys, she was happy. She already considered the room that we had used as her nursery to be her bedroom and was no trouble at all. The physical work involved in packing was one thing. The emotional wrench was quite another. What to do with those wedding albums and Tom's things? I put no pressure on Laura either way.
'You don't have to decide now. Let's just pack everything and we can put it all in the loft. You can just unpack what you need.'
Then there was the need to explain the move to her mother. Laura wanted to have that particular conversation with Mrs Albury on her own, so I took Andrea to the park with a bag full of stale crusts to feed the ducks. Andrea wouldn't eat crusts at that point, so the local ducks di
d quite well.
Laura returned tearful and angry. I put Andrea in front of the television and made Laura some tea as she sat at the kitchen table.
'What did she say?'
'Exactly what I knew she'd say. That there would be no going back once I'd made this decision. Why couldn't I just move in with her so that she could take care of us both? Did I have to move in with another man so soon? That I should be thinking about Andrea as well as myself. That I should be thinking about Tom before I gave up the flat, because it's his home too. Why does she have to say these things? She must know that I wouldn't make a decision like this without thinking about it!'
'She's your mother. It's what mothers do.'
'Is it? Or is it just what my mother does?'
'She only wants the best for you.'
'Then why can't she just say that? Why does she have to make it so difficult?'
There was a ring at the doorbell and Laura jumped up full of anticipation. My heart sank as I saw that she was hoping even then that Tom had come home. 'Shall I get that?' I asked as Laura wiped at her eyes.
Andrea was in the hall, keen to find out who the visitor was.
'Nana!' She took control as I opened the door to Mrs Albury.
'Have you got a kiss for me?' She bent down to the level of Andrea's face before straightening up to her full height and looking me in the eye. 'Peter,' she said sternly, handing me her coat, and I saw that she was wearing a housecoat over her dress. 'I've come to help pack. My daughter shouldn't be doing any heavy work in her condition.'
'I'm sure she'll appreciate it.' I turned to hang her coat on the row of pegs in the hall that Tom had made. 'She's in the kitchen.'
'Mum,' I heard Laura say, simply.
'That's my girl,' Mrs Albury said, as softly as if she was talking to Andrea, 'My beautiful girl.'
I left them alone.
Laura went into labour three weeks before her due date. I dropped Andrea off with Mrs Albury and took her to the hospital. It was made quite clear that Laura didn't want me to be there for the birth. I felt a mixture of disappointment and relief.
The doctor was Chinese and seemed to have trouble understanding me. 'First baby?' he kept asking.
'Second baby,' I told him repeatedly.
I sat. I stood. I paced. I drank tea with powdered milk from a vending machine. I read and reread the same article from the Telegraph, unable to absorb anything. Eventually I slept, curled up on three armless chairs.
When I saw the doctor emerge every once in a while, I asked, 'How is she doing?'
'First baby often long labour.' He smiled. 'Not to worry. You go home. Sleep. Come back.'
'Second baby,' I told him, pointing to the floor. 'I'll stay.'
He shrugged. 'Maybe long-time. I go sleep.'
'Can I see her?
She was lying on her back, knees raised, moaning softly. Her eyes were closed and she had a few beads of sweat on her brow, which the midwife dabbed at with a damp flannel. Her hair was loose and darkened strands clung to her face.
'Are you the husband?' the midwife enquired and Laura asked instantly, 'Tom?'
'Shhh.' I leaned forwards. 'It's me. Pete.'
'Pete. How long has it been now?' She frowned, her eyes open.
'Eighteen hours.'
'What time is it?'
'Four thirty.'
'Morning or afternoon?'
'Afternoon.' I smiled. 'But it feels as if it could be the middle of the night. How are you doing?'
'Tired.'
'Do you want anything?'
She shook her head. 'Why don't you go and give Andrea her tea and tell her I sent you to give her a big hug from me.'
'Is that what you want me to do?' I stroked her forehead.
She nodded, closing her eyes and turning them away. I bent to kiss her. 'I'll be back later.'
Mrs Albury was naturally anxious for news when I knocked at her door.
'Nothing yet,' I told her. 'They say it could be some time.'
'How is she holding up?'
'She's tired. Half asleep.'
She nodded knowingly.
'What's normal for a second baby?' I asked.
'Everyone's different.' She shrugged. 'But the second one is usually easier than the first. It was certainly that way for me.'
'I had no idea it could go on this long.'
She looked at me dismissively. 'Why would you?'
'Laura wanted me to give Andrea her tea.'
She sniffed. 'Doesn't she think I'm up to the job?'
'I think she wanted to give me something to do to stop me making a nuisance of myself.'
'Have you eaten?'
'Not yet.'
'Think you can manage fish fingers, mash and peas for three?'
'I'll give it a go.'
'Andrea!' she shouted up the stairs. 'Your Uncle Peter's here.'
I heard the toilet flush and Andrea appeared at the top of the stairs, still straightening her clothes. I felt myself smiling, as I always did when I saw her.
'With Mummy?'
'Mummy's fine,' I called up to her. 'She asked me to come and get you some tea. You're going to stay here tonight with your nana. Won't that be nice?'
'Wash your hands,' Mrs Albury told her. 'We're having fish fingers.'
'Fish fingers,' Andrea began to chant. 'Fish fingers and baked beans. Fish fingers and baked beans. Fish fingers and baked beans.'
'Do you have any baked beans?' I asked Mrs Albury.
'I think I'd better nip out and get some. Can you hold the fort? You can make a start on those spuds.'
The baby was born after another eighteen hours, just after 11.30 a.m. Laura had not slept for the best part of three days and was exhausted, but her expression was peaceful at last when I was invited to meet my son for the first time. He was pink and so long-bodied that it was difficult to believe he had fitted inside the curve of Laura's belly. I found the way that he curled up his froglike legs close to his body almost miraculous. He was so small and precious that I felt clumsy holding him in my arms. In his curled position, he was no longer than the length of my two hands. With his legs stretched, he was almost the length of my forearm. He was a new life with ancient and animal-like qualities all at the same time. He was both ugly and perfect. I was fascinated by every movement he made; the way he yawned, the slight twitching of his closed eyes, the way his mouth moved instinctively before he had even suckled for the first time. When the midwife took him out of my arms to place him at his mother's breast, I felt his absence.
Laura smiled. 'You haven't said anything.'
'I'm speechless,' I admitted, sitting down heavily on the side of the bed. 'I've never felt anything like it before. Why didn't you warn me?'
'He's going to be a good father, this one.' The midwife winked at Laura before leaving the room. 'I can tell. You've got two minutes then I'll be back,' she said to me. 'She needs to rest now.'
'You can't put it in words,' Laura said. 'You wouldn't have understood.'
'I know it's been really difficult recently but I'm so glad we got to share this.' I put one hand to her face and she moved to kiss it. I can honestly say now that it was the happiest moment of my life. I thought that it was the beginning of a journey. There is nothing like the birth of a child to give you hope and make you think of huge potential. I watched the person I loved the most look at our boy with such emotion reflected in her eyes. For a single moment, there were only the three of us in the world and it was all that mattered. If I had known what was to follow, I would have asked for five minutes more when the midwife returned. I would have kept on asking for an extra five minutes, just like Andrea at that age when she wanted to stretch each day to its limits.
'I'd better go and tell your mother that she has a grandson,' I said reluctantly.
'And Andrea that she has a brother.'
'What shall we call him?' I asked.
'What about Derek for your father?' Laura said.
I was so moved by the thought
behind the suggestion that I didn't stop to think if it would be a blessing or a curse to name a child after a man who had experienced so little joy in his life.
Laura and Derek stayed in the hospital for ten days. Because Derek was premature, they wanted to monitor him and check his weight. Like all new babies, he lost almost a pound before he started putting on any weight but, medically, he seemed to be sound. It gave Laura the chance to regain her strength before she had to think about the juggling act that lay ahead of her. I returned to work, keen to be there for her when she and Derek came home. Andrea had an extended holiday with her grandmother but I visited her every day. All the talk of hospitals had confused her but she was perfectly happy once she had seen that her mother was well. She was uninterested in the new baby, unable to understand why another child was needed when her mother already had her. Her pout asked the question that she didn't know how to put into words: 'Wasn't I enough?'
Chapter Forty
'Shall we give him back now?' Andrea enquired after Laura and Derek had been home for a couple of days.
'Andrea, why don't you give your brother a nice kiss on his cheek?' Laura tried to encourage her. Andrea reluctantly bent down over him, grabbed his body and pecked him on the side of his head, pulling away as quickly as she could. 'Gently now! He's only little.'
'Will Daddy be coming to see Derek soon?' Andrea asked suddenly, this new thought lighting up her eyes.
Laura and I looked at each other. We hadn't even got to grips with the issue of how to refer to my relationship with Derek, let alone our new relationship.
'Darling, Daddy can't come home right now. He's very busy.'
'Why?'
'He has to work very hard.'
'Don't you have to work very hard, Uncle Pete?'
'Sometimes I have to work very hard. You remember when I was away from home for all those months, don't you?'
