by Jane Davis
'She made it,' I said to him. 'You brought her round. She's going to be all right.'
He stood up and wandered off in the direction of the exit.
'Where are you going?' I asked him.
'Home.' He shrugged, as if I had asked a very obvious question.
'Don't you want to wait and talk to Laura?'
'I've been talking to her non-stop for the past week.'
'What shall I tell her?'
'That's your business. You know where to find me when you're finished.'
Satisfied that he was not leaving altogether, I let him go. He must have been exhausted. I waited my turn, dreading what I should say. In the end, I didn't need to use words.
'Pete?' Laura asked, a mix of hope and regret.
I sat by her side and took both of her hands in mine. Before I could speak, I was overwhelmed by tears and I shook my head, unable to look her in the eyes.
It was as if I had only confirmed her own thoughts. 'I knew, I knew. When did it happen?'
'Five days ago.'
She bit her lip. 'It was as if I could have woken up, but I didn't want to open my eyes. I almost didn't want to come back. He was so small. He was just too small.'
We cried for a long time for the loss of Derek, not knowing where to go with the conversation next. Periodically, Laura would say, 'I didn't get to say goodbye,' or, 'Were you all on your own?' or, 'Does Andrea know yet?'
Eventually, she sighed, 'They said I can go home the day after tomorrow.'
I tried to smile. 'That's good news.'
'Do you know what I said to the nurse? I said, "I have no idea where home is any more." ' She looked away, her face crumpling again. We both knew that, as well as the loss of Derek – which was terrible in itself – this was the end of the road for us.
I tried to say the words I had practised in my head with as little emotion as possible: 'Tom needs you.'
'You're letting me off the hook.' She looked at me with a large degree of affection diluted with a small amount of pity.
'I'm afraid they think he's had a complete nervous breakdown,' I explained to her. 'It will be a slow road to recovery. Your mother wants you all to move in with her. She thinks that Andrea is settled there now and shouldn't be asked to move again. You're going to need her help.'
'Oh God, she's right again, isn't she? And what about you?'
'I'll think I'll go back to my own place tonight. It's going to be quite crowded now that Faye's back as well.'
'Faye came home?' Her eyes filled again.
'She's been so worried about you.'
'Pete . . .' she began, but I stopped her.
'Don't say anything else. You just concentrate on getting well. Everything else will fall into place.' I got up and did my best to say cheerfully, 'I should go and tell the good news to your folks. There's a little girl who will be wanting to see her mummy.'
'I don't deserve you. I never have.'
For just one second I wanted to tell her what I had done. What had I done? Instead, I turned and left. 'Get some rest,' is all I could trust myself to say. I never was any good at saying goodbye to Laura.
Understandably, I wasn't there for the full family reunion. Faye reported that Andrea accepted Tom's reappearance without question, but said to him what no one else had dared say, 'You're too thin, Daddy. You're no good for sitting on any more and I don't like your hair.' This made Faye howl as she told the story standing in my hallway. At the time, she said, jaws had dropped and everyone had been speechless.
'That's my girl,' I said with some pride, noting Faye's frown and wondering what I had done to cause offence. I changed tack: 'Does Laura talk about Derek?'
'Not once. How could she? I don't think she ever will. She's treating Tom like the child she's lost, if you ask me. It's going to be very slow progress with him. We don't know if he'll ever recover fully, let alone work again. I don't envy her one bit.'
'Have you been sent to spy on me?' I asked as she loitered, looking around. It was her first visit to the house.
'Of course I have.' Her caustic tone returned instantly. 'You're a very poor host and I'm certainly not here for the company. You haven't even invited me in.'
'You make me nervous,' I admitted.
'Have you got anything to drink?' She removed her coat from her shoulders slowly and let it drop to the floor, watching my look of horror. Then she pulled at her polo neck jumper lightly and said mockingly, 'Unlucky this time.'
I apologized and showed her into the living room where we sat awkwardly at opposite ends of the sofa, pretending to relax, a whisky glass in front of each of us and the open bottle on the table. I was drinking far too much at the time, seeking solace in my work and at the bottom of a bottle. I felt that I had suffered four losses and the fact that those people were still alive didn't make them any easier to bear. I finally had to admit to myself that I had lost Laura, the love of my life, I had lost my only son and I had lost Andrea, whom I had known for all of her life and had been looking forward to bringing up as my own daughter. And, finally, I had lost Tom, who was without a doubt the best friend I have ever had.
'Did we do the right thing?' I asked the question that would always be on the tip of my tongue.
'We did what we did and there was nothing else we could have done. You put a family back together. Mind you, you owed them that. You're not going to find my name on the petition nominating you for sainthood, if that's what you're asking.'
'That's not what I was asking.'
'And don't forget that I've got to live with myself as well. You dragged me into this.'
'I haven't forgotten.'
'And I hate the fact that you're the only person I can talk to about it because I don't want to be so reliant on you. But I do need to talk to someone. I'm not sure I can keep it all bottled up. Do you understand what I'm saying?'
I nodded.
'Of course you do.' I thought she was being dismissive of me, but it seemed that she was correcting herself, because she continued, 'For what it's worth, I think it's a damned shame. It pains me to admit it but from what I've seen of you and children, I have strong suspicions that you would have made an excellent father.' Through the long history of our acquaintance, Faye has never ceased to shock and surprise me, but that was quite possibly the most surprising thing she has ever said to me. She seemed to struggle with the words as she cleared her throat: 'I don't suppose you considered just taking Derek and disappearing?'
'I thought about it. If only that would have worked. But how could I have left before I knew if Laura would pull through? And what mother would have let that happen? She would have spent her days trying to find us. It would always have come between Laura and Tom. Even if Tom eventually accepted Derek, he would have been a constant reminder.'
'What about you?'
'Me?' I shrugged, pouring myself another large whisky. 'I will celebrate being a bachelor by buying myself a very expensive and impractical sports car.'
She tapped her empty glass, a reminder that I was not being a good host. When I had rectified the situation, she clinked my glass. 'That's the first really sensible thing you've said so far. I'll drink to that.'
'And you?'
'What about me?' She seemed defensive.
'Will you slope off back to London?'
'Have you seen the price of train fares lately? I couldn't afford a return. No, now that I've made it back, I'm thinking of staying and keeping an eye on things. I thought that I'd outgrown this place and I hate the idea of everyone knowing everyone else's business, but it still has this magnetic pull. It's like a bad habit that you can't give up. And there's something else. I didn't agree with what you said when you came to see me, but after you left I looked around the flat and realized it had always felt temporary. I hadn't really settled there. It wasn't home. Have you ever thought of moving away for good?'
'Every day. Do you think it's any easier elsewhere?'
'No. It still sucks. Plus the rent's higher.'
'I thought that you were planning to sell up.'
'I moved all the way to Newcastle and it wasn't far enough,' I said. 'No, this is more of a mental removal rather than a physical one.'
'If we're going to be living in the same town, I think it's important that you know that I haven't forgiven you yet and I probably never will.'
'I wouldn't expect you to.'
'I like to bear a grudge for a very long time. It's one of my few pleasures in life.'
'You are perfectly entitled.'
'So would you prefer to pretend to be friends for the sake of appearances or shall we be arch enemies?'
'My arch enemies rarely drop round and drink copious quantities of my best whisky.'
'It is very good whisky.' She rolled it around in her glass, as if giving the matter careful consideration. 'We'll have to pretend to be friends then.'
I made a toast. 'To appearances.'
'For the sake of the family!'
Chapter Forty-six
A slow period of recovery followed with Mrs Albury at the helm and Andrea at the heart of it. Laura's physical recovery was swift, but she suffered the grief of losing Derek silently and without complaint. The burden of seeing Tom's mental and physical condition weighed heavily on her and was a visual reminder of our affair. She over-compensated for both of those things by mothering him.
Although Laura did not lose her looks at the age of thirty as she had predicted, she made great efforts not to draw so much attention to them. You could never have called her 'matronly', but the platinum-blonde hair that I had assumed was natural (it had been white-blonde when we first met) was replaced by a softer honey colour, and the clothes that she made herself were altogether less fitted.
It was clear that Tom would not be able to work for some time and Laura became the breadwinner, returning to work as a secretary in an office. Although Tom gradually gained weight, his looks were permanently changed. His hair never grew back entirely and it became clear that it had been shaved in the first place because it had started to fall out in clumps. At a time when a shaven head was a sure sign of trouble, Tom stood out like a sore thumb. He took to wearing a baseball cap, which in some ways made him look younger than his years. Most of the skills he had lost, he relearned with Andrea. He spent his days with her, seeing the world through her eyes and taking a great deal of joy in her discoveries. One of my greatest sadnesses was to learn from Faye that he had given up his music. His guitar, which was so much a part of him, was consigned to the loft. He very rarely sang, not even to Andrea, but Faye reported that he had taken to whistling. It was driving everyone mad. Like a demented parrot, he would get stuck on one line of a tune, forgetting what came next.
When Andrea started school, he was at a complete loss. It was Mrs Albury who, after a brainwave, bought an ancient 'rust bucket' for him to work on. Far from coming between Laura and Tom, she had become a lifeline.
'Mark my words, it'll give him the focus he needs,' she assured Laura, who was convinced that he might be a danger to himself.
Although it took him many months of tinkering away, he surprised even her by how complete a restoration job he eventually made. He sold the car for a substantial amount of money to a passing collector who knocked at the door and made a cash offer on the spot. This enabled him to repay Mrs Albury and buy the next desirable wreck from a salvage yard. Andrea assisted him with these, the most important decisions that he was faced with.
'I'd like to introduce you to my business consultant, Andrea Fellows,' he told the man in charge of the yard, who shook her hand seriously. 'She will be making the final choice today.'
'And what are we looking for?' The man addressed his question to Andrea.
'We need a blue one, please,' she said.
'Blue?' He nodded approval. 'I think you'll be impressed with the selection of blue cars we have to show you.'
Tom always considered his work tinkering with cars as a hobby, but it became quite a lucrative one and helped him to regain his confidence as it took him back into the outside world. Eventually, he recognized that it was important for him to get a full-time job, his first, as part of the recovery process. Not wanting to overstretch himself, he took an administrative role in an office. Sadly, it used none of his many talents, which he seemed content to let go to waste in return for a little normality. He later told me that being able to provide for his family brought him a level of contentment that he had not previously experienced. It was not the life that he had originally wanted, but it was a good life and he was grateful for his lot.
While all this happened, I kept my distance. Faye was the one who kept me updated with the family news. Despite her return, she seemed to remain a permanent outsider. She didn't say that she blamed me in so many words, but I always felt that she could never be as close to Laura after I had involved her in the deception about Derek. She settled into a pattern of working that allowed her to travel for months at a time. It was as if she needed time away on a regular basis, even though she couldn't settle anywhere else.
It was Andrea who orchestrated my return to favour. It was one Saturday morning while I was alone reading the papers that Tom knocked at the door with a seven-year- old Andrea. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
'Andrea Fellows has requested the company of her godfather to take her to the park,' Tom announced formally, touching his hand to the peak of his cap.
'Yes! Yes!' Andrea giggled.
They were both dressed in jeans, trainers and T-shirts. I still had my dressing gown on.
'I don't think I'm quite dressed for the occasion. You'd better come in.'
Apparently they had been walking past and Andrea had recognized my house.
'Can I see my old room?' she asked, running straight up the stairs.
'I'm afraid it's an office now,' I called after her.
Tom and I were left in the hallway. There was a moment's awkwardness.
'You look well,' I said.
He removed his baseball cap to reveal what was left of his hair and raised his eyebrows.
'I never thought I'd end up with more hair than you,' I remarked.
'Congratulations,' he replied, not unpleasantly. It was a start.
'I can't believe how much Andrea's grown. She's so tall.'
'Laura's fine.' He looked me in the eye.
'I didn't ask . . .'
'I thought you'd like to know,' he said. 'She'd never say so to me, but she misses you. Were you ever going to come round and see us again?'
'I thought it best . . .'
'You're supposed to be her best friend. You told her everything would fall into place.'
'It did,' I said. 'You're a family again. And you're both well.'
'You said everything. She thought that included you.'
'No. It could never be the same again.' I shook my head apologetically. 'Tell her I'm sorry . . .'
'You should tell her yourself.'
Andrea bounded down the stairs, looking a little disappointed.
'Did you ever find Mr Rabbit, Uncle Pete?' she asked. 'I think I left him here.'
'Was he yours?' I asked, knowing full well that it was part of a box of toys that I had taken to a charity shop. 'I'm afraid he found a new home.'
'That's OK.' She took her daddy's hand and looked at him. 'Are we going to the park now?'
'Uncle Pete has just remembered that he's busy this morning,' Tom said, 'but he's going to come over to tea tomorrow evening and you can play with him then.' He looked at me. 'We'll be having Andrea's favourite. I hope you like fish fingers.'
'Oh, I do,' I stumbled.
Andrea clapped her hands. 'With baked beans.'
Tom opened the door and turned back: 'Six o'clock on the dot. Don't be late.'
I don't know who was more surprised to see me, Laura or Mrs Albury. Andrea and Tom had decided to keep my visit a secret, but had both pretended they were very hungry and persu
aded Laura to cook twice the usual amount of food. Tom clearly found the whole thing highly entertaining. Laura barely spoke while I babbled away hysterically, wishing the whole thing was over. After Andrea had gone to bed, Tom announced that we were going for a drink. By Laura's reaction, it was clearly something that he hadn't done for a long time.
'I said I was going for a drink,' he said. 'It won't kill me.'
'But . . .'
'You're very welcome to join us,' he offered. 'I'm sure that your mother will be quite happy to stay with Andrea.'
'No, you go,' she said reluctantly.
He kissed her cheek. 'Back in an hour.'
Once we were outside, his attitude was that of a naughty schoolboy who had pulled a prank and got away with it.
'Got to let her know who's boss again. "Be assertive," they told me. How am I doing?'
'I think you're doing very well. You certainly told me.'
'I was practising on you,' he said. 'I've spent days building up to that. You have no idea how long it's been since I set foot in a pub.' He inhaled the smoke and the smell of hops as if the blend was a luxurious perfume. 'Buy me a beer,' he added. 'I forgot to ask for any pocket money.'
It became a weekly event, repeated at first only because I was humbled by Tom's capacity for forgiveness. I can only think that facing me was part of his recovery process and that it was something he needed to do. I thought about all of those things that drew me to Tom in the early days of our friendship – his lifestyle, his talent, his self-belief and his ability to turn his hand to anything. What I had forgotten was that he was simply great company. Even without those things, he was still Tom. I grew to admire him more than I would have done if he had appeared on Top of the Pops.
Gradually, contact with Laura became easier, but she remained deliberately distant. It was a long time before we were comfortable in each other's company again. Part of this, I'm sure, was for Tom's benefit. Part of it was for her mother's benefit. And part of it was because neither of us could allow ourselves to talk about the thing that we most wanted to. To observers, I was Tom Fellows's friend, but in the silences and between the gaps in everyday conversation, Laura and I exchanged glances and we both knew that, although everything was different, some things remained the same.
