No Heaven, No Hell

by J. T. Brindle

  ‘I will always love you, Jack,’ she whispered, ‘but I need to know if I can live without you. Without them.’ She gave a sad little smile. In the hospital she had had time to think. They had talked a lot. She wasn’t sure she could do it, but now she knew she had to. She fingered the photograph of the two of them, young and carefree. Before their lives were shattered. Before Ginny.

  A few moments later she packed a suitcase and left a note for him. It read:

  I’m sorry it had to end like this, Jack. I thought we might be able to work it out, but it’s not possible. Ginny will always come between us. And I will always be afraid.

  Please, Jack. Don’t come looking for me. Let me be alone for a time. Later, if I think there is hope, I’ll be back. But it has to be my decision. If you try and follow me, there will be no going back for either of us.

  Don’t worry. I’ll be all right. I promise.

  Don’t hate me.

  Liz

  xxx

  I have a way out, she thought, but I never thought I would take it.

  By the time she reached the bottom of the street, a faint autumn mist was creeping up, and the darkness was relieved only by the garish halo of light from the street lamp.

  As she approached the car, the man swung out of his seat. Wasting no time he took the suitcase from her and laid it in the back. ‘You’re doing the right thing,’ he said. In the half-light his face looked different.

  She turned to gaze on the old bakery, with its ancient doors and fat little chimneys. ‘I have no choice,’ she told the night. ‘They made the decision for me.’

  He waited for her to climb into the seat, then he closed the door, before returning to his own side. He shifted the car into gear, and let it roll gently forward.

  Liz leaned back in her seat. The sound of the engine, purring as it took her away, was oddly comforting.

  11

  On this Friday evening, just as on every other Friday evening since her mother disappeared some two months back, Lianne went to see her father.

  She found him sitting where he always sat, above the empty bakery, staring out of the window, watching for Liz. It was pitiful to see him. ‘Do you think she’ll ever come back?’ he asked. His question was addressed to Dave. He didn’t abandon his vigil. Instead he looked at Dave’s reflection in the window, waiting for his reply, as though it might be his salvation.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Dave answered truthfully, ‘but you can’t spend all your days looking out of the window, hoping she’ll show.’

  Jack gave him a withering glance. ‘I’ll wait a lifetime if I have to,’ he said.

  Dave was thankful when Lianne came in from the kitchen. ‘I’ve made the tea and set out the cakes I bought,’ she said. ‘Would you fetch it in?’ She pointed to her huge stomach. ‘One kick from this little bundle and the whole lot is likely to end up across the floor.’

  Relieved to get out from Jack’s scrutinising gaze, he leaped out of his chair and almost ran into the kitchen. He even had the good sense to hide in there while father and daughter talked. Or at least while Lianne talked, and Jack pretended to listen.

  ‘You shouldn’t have sold the bakery,’ she said regretfully. ‘It was your only livelihood. What will you do now?’

  He suddenly spun round on his heel and gave her a wonderful smile. ‘I’m absolutely starving,’ he declared giving her a brief hug. ‘Where are these cakes I’ve been hearing about?’

  On hearing Jack in a more sociable mood, Dave came in with the tray. ‘At your service,’ he said jovially. He almost dropped the tray when he saw Jack’s face. It was drawn and haggard, and his trousers hung on him like two baggy sacks. His concerned gaze went to Lianne. It wasn’t Jack so much that he worried about. It was his own lovely wife. The baby was due any day now, and it was heavy going.

  As though reading Dave’s thoughts, Jack asked, ‘Well? When are you going to make me a grandfather?’ He injected delight into his voice, but in truth he wasn’t looking forward to a new face in the family. Not without Liz beside him to share the experience.

  ‘Soon.’ Handing him a cup of tea and a slice of walnut cake, Lianne explained, ‘I’ve had three false alarms already.’ She could hardly sit back on the seat for the size of her stomach. ‘I shan’t be sorry to drop this little lot, I can tell you.’ She felt disgustingly fat. Her ankles were like balloons; the baby was lying on her bladder, and she was passing water every few minutes.

  Jack looked at her then, at her bright pretty eyes and cheery demeanour. His façade of merriment slipped away and he was filled with immense regrets. ‘I wish your mother was here,’ he said, choking back the emotion.

  ‘So do I,’ she said, scrambling out of the chair to hug him. ‘But she isn’t. You are, though, and I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.’

  ‘Where is she?’ He could feel her arms round his neck, and he clung to her like a drowning man. ‘Why doesn’t she come home?’ He raised his sorry eyes to Dave, telling him what he had said a million times already. ‘I’ve searched high and low for her. It’s like she’s vanished from the face of the earth.’

  ‘It’s a well-known fact,’ Dave said limply. ‘You can’t find someone who doesn’t want to be found.’ He was never sure what to say, or how to deal with this heartbreaking situation.

  Sensing Lianne’s distress, Jack plucked her arms from round his shoulders. ‘Sit down, woman!’ he ordered jokingly. ‘I’ve finished blubbering.’

  She sat down, but regarded him constantly while they ate. ‘You still haven’t answered my question,’ she said presently. ‘What will you do now that you’ve sold the bakery?’

  ‘I haven’t really thought about it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got until the day after tomorrow to vacate, so I’d better make a plan of sorts, I suppose.’ He ruminated on the issue. ‘Maybe I’ll take to the high road. Be a gypsy.’

  She frowned. ‘Look for Mum, you mean?’

  ‘I didn’t say that.’

  ‘You didn’t have to.’

  He took a bite out of his cake. ‘Actually, I’ve been thinking about you and Ginny,’ he said with a full mouth. ‘I have an idea.’

  Dave didn’t like the sound of that. ‘What kind of idea?’

  Jack was wise enough not to pursue it. ‘Something and nothing,’ he answered. ‘The bakery brought a good price. I have more than enough for my own needs.’ He winked at Lianne. ‘I just want to do right by my children, that’s all.’ By Ginny. He wanted to do right by Ginny.

  Sensing that he was about to lapse into one of his uncomfortable silences, Lianne pressed him on the one subject he would talk about for hours on end. ‘Why don’t you go and see Ginny? You’ll be pleased to hear she’s a trustee now. There’s talk of her being allowed home soon.’

  ‘I know.’ He looked from one to the other, feeling guilty. Feeling naked. ‘I should go and see her, but I’m not very good company just yet.’ He couldn’t forget the last time he had gone to see Ginny. She told him a few truths he would rather not know. And when he got home Liz was gone. Since then he had hardly gone out, hoping she would come back. Praying he had not lost her for ever. For the first time in his life, he resented the hold Ginny had on him. It didn’t make him turn away from her though. It only made him feel he had to protect her all the more. ‘I’m aware she’s close to being released.’

  Lianne peered at him curiously. ‘How do you know that? I only found out during visiting last weekend.’ Her face lit up. ‘Did you go and see her?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Then how did you find out?’

  He dug a letter out of his trouser pocket and handed it to her. ‘I got this today.’

  Lianne read the letter aloud:

  Dear Dad,

  Why haven’t you been to see me? I know we argued the last time, but you said things that hurt. So did I, and I’m sorry. You must know how much I need you. I watch for you every day.

  I’ve been tempted to run away, but that would only make things worse. They would j
ust catch me and lock me up again. Then I might never get out of here.

  I must be very careful, you see. I’ve been made trustee, and yesterday the doctor said that all my new tests were very good. It won’t be too long now before they let me home for a while.

  I have to get away from here. I can’t bear not to see you.

  What’s happening? I know something is happening. I saw it in Lianne’s face when she came to see me. She wouldn’t admit it, but I knew. I could always read her mind.

  It’s Mother, isn’t it? She’s gone away.

  Don’t worry. I’ll find her. Then everything will be all right.

  Ginny.

  ‘It’ll take her a while to adjust. It won’t be easy.’ Jack’s mind ran rampant. What if Liz came home? What then? What if she didn’t come home? Oh, but Ginny had promised to find her. No! You mustn’t let her do that. The doctors thought Ginny was almost normal. They don’t know. Only he knew. Ginny could never be normal.

  Dave was thinking of the more practical side of Ginny’s eventual rehabilitation. ‘I suppose she’ll have to work. I know she was destined for higher things, but I should imagine all that’s changed, hasn’t it? Like you say, it won’t be easy for her.’

  Lianne was more positive. ‘Ginny might be coming home,’ she said. ‘That’s all that matters.’

  While they finished their tea and cakes, the conversation shifted this way and that. They talked about not having decided on a name for the baby; about whether the new owners of the bakery might start it up again or convert it into a home; they chatted about what Jack might do with the furniture, and that brought them on to another matter.

  ‘I only wish I had somewhere to store it,’ Lianne remarked. ‘I hope to have a home of my own one day.’

  Dave didn’t like the dark oak furniture. He thought it was too old-fashioned. ‘When we do get our own home,’ he told her, ‘I hope I can take you to the big stores and let you buy what you want.’

  ‘I see.’ Jack was on to it. ‘So! You don’t like my taste in furniture! I daresay Liz would have chosen something very different, but I was out of hospital before her, and it had to be done quickly.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Dave was mortified he might have offended. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. I only meant that, well, what looks good in an old bakery might not suit a modern house.’

  ‘A modern house, eh? Like the ones at the top of Leighton Road, you mean?’

  Lianne and Dave looked at each other with amusement. Lianne sighed dreamily. ‘If only!’ she declared. ‘With Dave still in his first year, it’ll be ages before we can buy our own place. Even then, our money won’t stretch to one of those posh places.’

  ‘Still,’ Jack probed deeper, ‘you’re cosy enough where you are for the time being.’

  Draining the dregs of her teacup, she answered in a worried tone, ‘For the time being, yes we are. Dave’s parents have been very good to us. It’s thanks to them he’s been able to take up college, and they’ve made sure we haven’t gone short. But Dave’s father is due to take early retirement, and they want to move to the coast. They’ll have to sell their house here, to buy another. So we’re having to think hard.’ She smiled. ‘We’ll sort it, though, so there’s no need for you to worry.’ They had never asked him to help. And he had not offered. They understood.

  A short time later they left. The December air was bitingly cold. Inside the car it was soon warm and cosy. Feeling more relaxed now, Dave chatted about his mock exams, about how he might ask his dad for a loan to buy a little car of their own; and the baby. ‘I wonder if it’ll be a boy or a girl?’ he said. ‘If it’s a girl I hope it’s just like you, and if it’s a boy, I hope he’s strong and handsome like me.’ The two of them laughed, enjoying each other’s company. The moments flew and soon the car was turning into their road.

  ‘It’ll be a boy,’ Lianne decided, as he got out of the car and came to the open door.

  ‘How do you know that?’ He peered in at her.

  ‘Because the little bugger’s just as impatient as you are. Get me to the hospital, or I’ll have it here and now in your father’s back seat.’

  His eyes grew like two big balloons. His mouth moved, but nothing came out. When she gave a cry, he panicked, running on the spot, not knowing which way to turn. ‘Hold on!’ he yelled. ‘Hold on!’ He kicked her door shut and ran round the car, missed his footing, and fell in the gutter. ‘Hold on!’ Then he leaped into the car, slammed the door on the tip of his finger, shot off up the road with such speed that he sent her backwards into the seat with her legs in the air. ‘Hold on!’ he kept yelling. He was still yelling when they wheeled Lianne into the hospital.

  Torn, bleeding and dishevelled, he ran after them, looking as though it was he who needed the trolley.

  At ten minutes to midnight, Lianne gave birth to a son.

  Filled with wonder, Dave stayed with her throughout. ‘He’s beautiful,’ he said brokenly, holding her hand. ‘A son!’ He couldn’t believe the miracle he’d just seen. The tears flowed, but he didn’t care. ‘Oh, Lianne, I love you so much.’ They held each other and talked until, exhausted, she fell asleep.

  Outside, the others waited patiently. ‘It’s a boy!’ Dave shouted as he came through the door. ‘We’ve got a son!’

  His parents were jubilant.

  Jack hung his head. ‘Is she all right? Can I see her?’

  ‘She’s sleeping now,’ Dave told him, ‘but we can come back in the morning.’

  Taking hold of the young man’s hand, Jack congratulated him. ‘Mind you take good care of them,’ he said. Then he walked away. To think. To dream. In his heart he knew it was all over for him.

  ‘I feel so sorry for him.’ Mrs Martin saw how haggard he was. She saw the weary stoop of his shoulders as he went away, and her heart went out to him. ‘He misses his wife so much, poor man. How could she leave like that? And with her daughter pregnant?’

  Mr Martin also had an opinion. ‘Who knows what goes on in a woman’s mind?’ he said grimly. ‘And who are we to judge?’

  12

  It was Christmas morning. Snow had poured from the skies all night long. It was still fluttering down when Lianne opened the bedroom curtains. ‘Dave, get up! It’s a white Christmas!’ When he grunted and turned over, she threw herself at him. ‘Get up!’ she cried. ‘I want you to see.’

  He leaned up on one elbow, squinting through the window at the early morning brightness. ‘What time is it?’

  Throwing the covers off him, she dragged him out of bed. ‘Never mind what time it is,’ she said. ‘Come and look out of the window.’

  While he hobbled, half-asleep, to stare at the snow and shiver, Lianne collected the child from its cradle. ‘Look there, little man,’ she murmured in his ear, ‘a white Christmas, just for you.’

  Dave turned to look at the two of them. His wife and his son. ‘Happy Christmas,’ he said, drawing them into his embrace. ‘Even if I have been dragged out of a nice warm bed.’

  Lianne was overwhelmed by it all. ‘I’m so happy,’ she said. Mingling with the joy was a sense of loss. A dark shadow crossed her smile as she said sadly, ‘I wish Mum would come home.’

  ‘She will,’ he promised. ‘As soon as she finds out about this little fellow, wild horses won’t keep her away.’ If he could have just one wish, it would be that Liz might come home to put Lianne’s mind at rest.

  ‘It’s eight o’clock.’ Lianne glanced at the bedside clock. ‘I’d better feed him.’ She bent her head to sniff at his nappy. ‘Better change him too,’ she said wryly. ‘He’s done a packet.’

  Dave gave them each a kiss. ‘Now that I’m out of bed I might as well go down and get breakfast.’ He felt the need to remind her. ‘What with all the practice I’ve had these last few days, I’ve got to be quite a dab hand at cooking.’

  ‘Won’t hurt you,’ she told him, balancing the baby on one arm while she dug his toiletries out of the drawer. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve got to be such a dab han
d that you could get breakfast for everyone?’ She chuckled. ‘You wouldn’t know, because you sleep like a dead thing, but your son kept me awake half the night. I don’t think your mum and dad got much sleep either. I haven’t heard them get up yet, and it would be nice if they could have a lie-in, don’t you think?’

  ‘No sooner said than done,’ he said, with a servile flourish. ‘I shall cook a breakfast the likes of which you have never seen before.’

  Still shivering, he dressed quickly, hopping about like a thing demented as he tried to get into his trousers. ‘Christ, it’s cold! My arse has got goosebumps the size of strawberries.’

  ‘Don’t be crude in front of your son,’ she chastised with a smile. ‘And no peeking at the presents!’ she called out as he went from the room.

  ‘Would I ever?’ he said cheekily, rushing back in to kiss the two of them. ‘You two are the best present I could ever have.’

  And she could never love him more than she did at that moment.

  At five minutes past nine he shouted from the bottom of the stairs, ‘Breakfast is served! Come and get it while it’s hot!’

  Lianne had fed and settled the baby, and he was sleeping soundly. She and Dave’s parents entered the kitchen together. They couldn’t believe their eyes. The kitchen table was fully extended, and covered with one of Mrs Martin’s best gingham cloths. All of her best vegetable dishes were set out: one filled with fried potatoes; another with fat juicy sausages; yet another with curled and blackened bacon; and a fourth was running over with scrambled eggs. Her best china set was set out too. And a dish of preserve, and a plate piled high with toast.

  ‘God almighty, son!’ Mr Martin was the first to recover. ‘We’re not royalty.’

  ‘No, you’re not,’ Dave agreed, ushering them to the table. ‘You’re my family. Worth more than royalty to me.’

  It was a splendid breakfast, and the women didn’t even have to move a muscle, except to eat. Mr Martin got into the spirit of things, and helped his son to wait at table. ‘But don’t think I mean to make a habit of it,’ he warned his wife. ‘It’s my extra Christmas present to you, that’s all.’