by Jane Bidder
‘Where does Poppy’s mother live now?’ she asked when the girl had gone to the loo below deck.
Ben made a ‘shh’ noise. ‘Sort of. I can’t say right now. She doesn’t like talking about it. Just relax, Mum. Chill out. ’
So Claire did because it had been a long time since she’d had the luxury of a whole day off without anything to do. The mobile didn’t have any reception out here on the water but she knew that Simon would be painting his ridiculous primary school stuff on the kitchen table and Spencer would be watching television in the sitting room, his dirty feet up on her coffee table.
That night, they all went out for a Chinese. Charlie seized the opportunity to talk about her prison book while Ben and Poppy held hands under the table. ‘Sounds like a great idea,’ he enthused as though forgetting how he used to complain when she painted at weekends so he could look after a small Ben.
Suddenly she found his hand covering hers and squeezing it. ‘I’m really proud of you, Claire. Always have been. I’m sorry I didn’t show it enough.’
She looked across to Poppy and Ben who were in a world of their own. ‘I hope you show your feelings more to your girlfriend now.’
He looked away. ‘Actually, Claire, I finished the last relationship a few weeks ago. Would you like to know why?’
It would be so easy to say yes. Then she knew he would tell her that he still had feelings for her and she would say … what, exactly?
‘Excuse me.’ She stood up. ‘I’ve got to go to the bathroom.’
She flew up the flight of stairs and into the Ladies, to check her mobile messages. Still nothing. When she dialled Simon’s number, it went through to answerphone. But what if she changed her settings so her number didn’t show up on his screen?
‘Hello?’ Simon! Her ploy had worked!
Quickly, she cut him off. So he was rejecting her calls. Anger could be healthy, Martha had said. Better to show emotions than bottle them in.
Very well then. If Simon wanted to play silly games, so could she.
By the time they got to Sunday, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to go back. It had been so wonderful to see the sea again and immerse herself in Devon’s slower, politer pace.
‘I should have popped in to see Jean,’ she remembered.
‘Maybe,’ suggested Charlie deliberately as he carried her bag to the door, ‘you’d like to come down next weekend with Ben.’
He wanted to re-claim her gently! It wasn’t an unpleasant thought. When you’d been together for years – and had a child together – you couldn’t just throw someone away.
‘Mum.’ Ben sounded nervous. ‘I want you to borrow this.’
Charlie was frowning. ‘Your mother doesn’t like jazz.’
‘I do now!’ Ella Fitzgerald had been one of Simon’s favourites and she’d got to like the music. She turned over the disc to read the lyrics titles and then stopped.
To my darling Charlie with all my love. From your Rosemarie.
It was dated the year before they broke up.
‘Ben,’ she said in a voice that wasn’t hers. ‘Can you just give Dad and me a minute to have a talk?’
‘It was her,’ she hissed. You had an affair with Rosemarie – my so-called friend.’ She tried to hammer at him with her fists but he grabbed them, hurting her.
‘Stop! You’re a bastard, do you know that?’
He nodded, his colour drained. ‘I’m sorry. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve regretted it.’
‘How long did it go on for?’ Above all, she needed the facts. ‘How long were you sleeping with her for?’
‘Two years.’
‘Two years?’ When he’d first said the word ‘two’ she’d expected it to be followed by months, not years. ‘But that’s awful. Disgusting. Terrible.’
‘I know.’ His voice had changed now and become clipped as though he was trying to distance himself.
‘But she introduced me to Simon … Of course! To keep me out of the way so she could carry on with you.’ Another thought struck her. ‘Please tell me you’re not still seeing her.’
Charlie shook his head. ‘We finished just after Simon went to prison. I felt it wasn’t right any more. Joanna’s death really shook me.’ He reached out his hand to touch her. ‘When I thought about how it could have been you in the car, I realised how much you still mean to me.’
She shook off his hand. ‘Don’t touch me.’
‘Then listen. Please. I was waiting for her to leave Alex but she kept putting it off. After Joanna, she was ready to come to me because ‘life had to be lived for the day’ as she put it. But by then I’d changed my mind.’ He stopped and then added almost proudly. ‘She was furious that I still had feelings for you.’
She could scarcely take it all in. ‘You’ve messed up so many lives! Mine, Ben’s, Alex’s …’
He broke in. ‘But you’ve seen what we can be like as a family; this weekend has been great and we can do it again. I don’t expect you to leave Simon in the lurch. We’ll get him some medical help and then we can start our own lives all over again.’
She stood there, unable to say anything.
‘Ben would like it.’ His voice was soft. Almost hypnotic. ‘Don’t you think we owe it to him?’
* * *
Ben was in his room, one ear against the door. Quietly, so they couldn’t hear the bleeps, he rang the number.
‘Hello?’
‘Simon. It’s me. Ben. Are you OK?’
‘Why?’
His stepfather’s voice was suspicious and no wonder.
‘We were worried about you. Mum hasn’t been able to get through.’
It was a bit of a guess but he’d seen her check her phone enough times.
‘I’ve been busy. Where are you?’
‘At Dad’s.’
‘Both of you?’
‘Yes.’
There was a sound at the other end which sounded like a snort or someone blowing their nose.
‘You’d better get back then, hadn’t you?’
‘Listen, Simon. It’s not what you think. She doesn’t want Dad – she wants you but you’ve been acting like a complete prat. You’ve got to go back to the person you were before.’
There was a silence. ‘I can never be that person again, Ben. You’re too young to understand.’
But he could! When he was with Poppy, he felt like a completely different person. Adults could be so stupid sometimes.
‘I’m just telling you that Mum still loves you. It’s up to you to sort your own lives out.’
Another silence.
‘Are you staying down there?’
‘No. Mum wants to come back.’
‘Then tell her that I’ll be gone by the time she’s here.’
Ben’s fingers felt sweaty on his mobile phone. ‘Where are you going?’
‘It doesn’t matter. But just in case your mother thinks I’m doing something wrong again, you can tell her that my probation officer knows about it.’
Chapter Fifty-four
Luckily the police seemed to believe him when Simon insisted that the white powder had had nothing to do him and that, no, he didn’t know where Spencer was. He didn’t add that Spencer had also taken a pile of novels from the sitting room; something that made Simon smile wryly to himself, despite the circumstances.
They also said they’d follow up his hunch about the man in the paper. ‘I’ve just remembered,’ he’d gasped. ‘It was one of the youths in the Multi-Faith Room back in Freetown. I interrupted them during my paperchase.’
The policeman had looked him up and down. ‘Don’t take this the wrong way sir, but your lot all look alike, don’t they?’
Talk about being racist. But if it helped to catch a terrorist, the slur wasn’t important. Meanwhile, he had to think about himself. He and Claire weren’t together any more. And the worst thing was that he’d brought it on himself.
Practicalities. Think practicalities. It was the only way to keep sane. He’d
find somewhere to live in London. That’s what he’d do. A hostel, maybe, so the house money could go to Claire. He owed her that.
As for Spencer, he felt thoroughly let down. He’d trusted the boy; helped him read; given him a bed; and now he’d repaid him by doing exactly what he’d been put in prison for. ‘You’re lucky,’ his probation officer had said grimly, ‘that the police believe you knew nothing about it.’
Meanwhile, Winston had been caught at a bus stop and was now in custody waiting for his case to come up after being turned down for bail. What a waste. All those fine words which he’d come out with about turning over a new leaf, man, had come to nothing.
She’d stay in the rented house, Claire told herself, until Ben finished his A-levels. At least that way, his schooling wouldn’t be interrupted again. Simon’s sentence had already done that enough times.
Meanwhile she’d carry on teaching at the college and with her own work. There was talk already of a second book with Max; their publishers seemed to think that the first, which was due to be published in three months, would sell. ‘Prison stuff is Big,’ her editor had declared delightedly. ‘You’ve hit just the right time.’
Simon might have found that funny. But she had no way of telling him. His phone always went through to voice mail and she had no idea where he was living. If it wasn’t for Martha to talk to, she’d go mad.
‘People who come out of prison,’ the older woman had said soothingly, ‘can be like wounded animals. They need a quiet space to lick their sores. With the right help, they feel strong enough to come out again.’
Claire had tried to give him that help, she told herself, but he’d made it so difficult! Maybe Simon might ‘come out again’ as Martha put it. Or maybe not. In the meantime, she owed it to Ben to get on with their own lives and create some kind of stability.
As for Charlie, she wanted nothing to do with him apart from necessary communication about Ben. She wasn’t even angry any more about Rosemarie; instead, she felt a relief that the jigsaw pieces were finally falling into place.
* * *
It was when Simon was still in the house, shoving stuff into his rucksack before Claire got back, that the mobile flashed.
Lydia , said the screen.
‘Dad?’
They hadn’t spoken since that last time when he’d been so shocked by her ‘career choice’.
‘Are you all right?’
‘Are you all right? Something’s wrong, isn’t it?’
She knew him already even though they’d only met a few times. What greater vindication could there be that Lydia was his flesh and blood? Simon felt his heart swell with pride and love.
‘Claire and I have split.’
‘Dad.’ The reproach slapped him in the face. ‘I told you to give her an easier time.’
He zipped up the rucksack. ‘It wasn’t just me. It was her too. I … I caught her snogging her ex.’
‘Oh.’
Exactly. ‘So I’m leaving to give her some space.’
‘Where will you go?’
She sounded like a worried mother.
‘I’ve found a place at a hostel. In Earls Court.’
‘You don’t need to do that!’ Her voice had an excited edge. ‘You could come and live here, Dad, with me!’
A flash of dirty concrete walls with young girls and dirty old men scurrying down the stairs, came into his head. ‘That’s very kind, Lydia but it’s not really practical is it?’ He gave an embarrassed cough. ‘I’d be in the way of your clients for a start.’
‘I’ve stopped.’
‘What?’
She gave a shy laugh that reminded him so much of her mother. ‘What you said, Dad, shook me up a bit. I’m absolutely skint, mind you, but I’m making do just about. Besides, it’s giving me more time for my studies. They think I might be in line for a first!’
That was amazing! He himself had got a 2:1 which had disappointed his mother. ‘Just as well your father isn’t here to see it,’ she had said.
‘I’ll get a job,’ he said suddenly, pushing the image out of her head. ‘Anything. I don’t care what. I’ll pay part of the rent and we’ll be fine.’
‘Really?’ The excitement in Lydia’s voice was wonderful to hear.
‘That would be fantastic! There’s only one bedroom though so …’
‘I’ll sleep on the sofa.’
‘What about your tag?’
Simon glanced down at his right ankle where there was a slight mark, indicating its former presence. ‘The Peckham Rolex? It’s gone. I don’t have to wear it any more, according to my probation officer.’
Lydia’s voice was getting higher, the way her mother’s used to. ‘That’s brilliant, Dad. We’ll celebrate. When can you get here?’
‘Couple of hours, maybe.’
Someone was knocking at the door. There was a gas van outside. Next door had had a leak last week. Just their luck if it was their turn, though he hadn’t smelt anything.
‘Hello?’
He took in the uniform just as the man’s arm headed for his nose. ‘Stay out of stuff you don’t belong to, Mills. Or we’ll get you. Got it?’
And then everything went black.
Ben’s voice was sleepy from the back. Slasher had fallen asleep too and was snoring. ‘Where are we going, Mum? I thought the motorway was that way?’
It was.
‘I’ve got someone to see first before we go home.’
It had only been two hours since her row with Charlie over Rosemarie. In fact, it hadn’t been so much of a row as a clear, cold statement on her part that she was going now and wouldn’t be back.
‘Can you wait in the car?’ She glanced back at Ben. There was no answer. He’d fallen asleep – or was pretending to – his head buried in Slasher’s coat. For all his grown up behaviour, he was still a child, she realised.
‘I won’t be a minute,’ she whispered in case he was shamming.
There was only one other car in the drive; a silver Audi.
‘Claire!’
Rosemarie’s face was shining with shock. Even as she stood there, two tiny tell-tale circles of red on her cheeks grew before Claire’s eyes.
‘I expect you know why I am here.’
‘No.’ She shook her head. Too firmly. ‘I don’t.’
A strange sense of satisfaction flooded Claire’s body. ‘Charlie hasn’t rung you, then?’
The circles of red grew bigger and her eyes took on a wary look. ‘Why would Charlie ring me?’
‘Don’t pretend, Rosemarie. I know about you both!’
Claire had never ever hit anyone but it was all she could do now not to slap her old friend’s pretty made-up face. ‘For years you were sleeping with Charlie when we were still married! I even cried on your shoulder when I found out he had another woman, never guessing it was you.’
Rosemarie leaned against the door, shaking. ‘Please come in. I don’t want people to hear this.’
‘No.’ Claire let her voice rise. ‘On the contrary, I want everyone to hear. When Joanna died, Charlie broke it off, and that’s why you wouldn’t have anything to do with me. It wasn’t just because of Joanna and me becoming a social pariah. You couldn’t bear the sight of me because I reminded you of what you couldn’t have.’
Rosemarie was trying to shut the door now but Claire put her foot between it and the step.
‘He told me,’ hissed Rosemarie, ‘that he’d made a terrible mistake. He wanted to try to get back together with you. It wasn’t fair! Not after everything we’d gone through. That’s why I threw the brick …’
Claire gasped. ‘You threw it? It wasn’t someone from the village? You broke my window and scared us out of our home?’
‘I hated you.’ Rosemarie’s eyes grew small and piggy. ‘I hated you because you had what I wanted even though you had got another husband.’
‘And what about poor Alex? Does he know about this?’
Rosemarie laughed wildly. ‘Poor Alex! Didn’t you k
now?’
Claire a cold shiver of premonition. ‘Know what?’
‘About him and Joanna.’ Rosemarie’s eyes were sparkling now with malice. ‘They were in love.’
It was too much to take in. ‘Did Hugh know?’
Rosemarie snorted. ‘Of course he did! Why do you think he got so drunk at your place on the night of the accident? He was pissed off. And why do you think he tried to grab the steering wheel? He wanted to kill his wife – and he didn’t care who else he murdered in the process.’
Chapter Fifty-five
His bloody nose and the bruise above it were too obvious to hide.
‘What happened, Dad?’
Simon hadn’t wanted to explain – the fewer people involved, the better. But Lydia had insisted. ‘The bomb, the other week,’ he began. ‘They ran a photofit of the suspect in the paper who looked like someone in the prison. So I told the police. Someone must have split on me because after I spoke to you, a man called, pretending to be the gas man, and socked me one; telling me to keep out of business that didn’t affect me.’
Lydia’s eyes were open wide. ‘You’ve got to report it.’
‘No.’ He reached out his hand and pulled her towards him awkwardly, giving her a half-cuddle. It was the first time he had touched her, this girl who was as young as some of his previous girlfriends. ‘I’m not doing anything that might threaten your safety. Suppose they came here?’
She shook her head. ‘I’m ready to risk it, Dad. Blimey, you did meet some oddballs in prison, didn’t you? First Spencer and now this.’
He had to laugh. ‘You wouldn’t believe it. It’s another world in there and frankly, I’m beginning to wonder if I can ever escape.’
Lydia clapped her hands as though she was in a schoolroom. ‘Come on then. Why don’t we unpack your stuff and you can settle in.’
Of course, everyone thought he was a dirty old man at first. It took weeks before Simon stopped getting knowing looks from the woman on the floor above who came back from work every morning at 6 a.m., tripping in her high heels. Even Lydia’s friends took some persuading before they finally accepted he really was her dad.
