Rumours and Red Roses

by Patricia Fawcett

  ‘Years and years,’ Becky said, cutting him a slice of gateau. ‘Haven’t I told you about him?’

  ‘No. Not that I remember.’

  ‘Well, he moved to Australia years back and was over for a short holiday recently and they met up again and that’s when it happened.’

  ‘I suppose that’s all right then,’ Simon said and she smiled at his concern for her mum’s welfare. It was nice to know he cared. ‘I was worried that they had only just met.’

  ‘We got married and you could say we’d only just met,’ she reminded him with a smile.

  ‘That’s different,’ he said, reaching for her hand and holding it. ‘That’s me and you. What’s he like, this Alan guy? I hope he’s going to look after her. She’s not as strong as she likes to make out, your mum. I wouldn’t like to see her hurt.’

  Becky smiled at him for his tenderness. ‘Don’t worry. He’s OK. I used to call him Uncle Alan. He was one of Dad’s friends, on the same darts team. I think they fished together as well. As far as I know, he’s never been married. I was only a little girl, remember, but I think he did appear on the scene fairly soon after Dad died. Looking back, I suppose some people must have thought too soon for comfort.’

  ‘Oh. Do you think there was something going on then?’

  ‘Before Dad died? No, I do not. Mum’s not like that. I’m sure she never looked at another man when Dad was alive. I know you could be forgiven for thinking that she might but just because she dresses like she does, it doesn’t mean that …’ She stopped, biting her lip.

  ‘There’s no need to go defensive about her,’ he said. ‘I like your mum. And no, from the way she still talks about your dad, I’m sure she would never have played away.’

  ‘Thanks.’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Alan lived with us for quite a while that first time. He was a nice man and I’m sorry I used to be a bit stroppy with him but nobody would ever replace my dad and I think I resented him. Now, I feel awful about it because I think he would have made Mum happy and she’s missed out all these years. She even said that she might have married him once before but she didn’t want to upset my schooling by dragging me off to Australia.’

  ‘I’m glad she didn’t otherwise we might never have met.’

  Becky smiled. She didn’t like the what-if game and she believed in fate. The two of them were surely destined to meet but she wasn’t going to dwell on it.

  ‘I remember I was sorry when he left,’ she said. ‘And I remember Mum being in a right old mood for a long time after.’

  ‘Poor you. It must have been hard for you losing your dad so young?’

  ‘Yes. It took some getting over. It happened so suddenly and that made it worse. If he’d been ill, we could have got ready for it. I don’t know which is worse. A long drawn-out illness or a sudden death. What do you think?’

  ‘I have no idea. Neither of them sounds brilliant,’ Simon said with a shrug. ‘Cheer up, darling. It’s a surprise but it is good news, isn’t it? Let’s wish her well.’

  Becky nodded, doing her best even though her mood had dipped. Even now, all these years later, she was still capable of suddenly and inexplicably getting upset by thoughts of her dad. The memory of that last day was stamped on her mind, the last thing she said to him, the cheerful glance he gave her as he went off to work that morning. Before that, she remembered going into the kitchen, seeing her mum, hands submerged in soapy water at the sink, trying in vain to fight him off as he put his arms round her, pinning her there and kissing her neck. She had stood there in the kitchen doorway smiling at the two of them. It warmed her childhood heart that her mum and dad loved each other, making her wish that one day it would be the same for her.

  ‘Get away with you, you daft beggar,’ her mum had said with a laugh, poking him with her elbow. ‘Can’t you see I’m busy?’

  ‘Leave the dishes,’ he said. ‘They’ll still be there when you get back.’

  ‘Exactly. And who’ll have to wash them then? Don’t forget to take your lunch.’

  Her dad had smiled at Becky as she stood in the doorway before glancing at the clock and telling her that she’d better get a move on too or she’d be late for school.

  And with that, he was gone.

  She never saw him dead, even though for some inexplicable reason her mum had asked if she wanted to. She had seen Janet dead but that was only because they were all in the car together and Janet had ended up on top of her, staring at her with eyes open, eyes that had had the life and light shut out of them. Janet on top of her, Paul squashed beside her, and she had escaped with a broken leg and shock. The leg was long healed but the shock … well, she wondered if that would ever heal.

  ‘Are you all right, darling?’ Simon asked, sensing her mood. ‘Are you worried about your mum? Don’t be. She’ll be fine. And she’ll have Alan.’

  ‘I’m not worried,’ she said, finding a smile for Simon. ‘Alan has a good job there and other family living nearby so she won’t be lonely. And you know my mum, she will soon make friends. Yes, I’m happy for her. I have to be happy for her.’

  ‘You don’t sound it.’

  ‘I’m just being selfish,’ she told him as it dawned. ‘I’m thinking of myself, of how I’ll miss her.’

  ‘She might regret it when we have children. It won’t be quite so easy to nip round to see them if she’s in Australia.’

  ‘It’s not the end of the world.’

  ‘It’s exactly that.’ He sensed her sadness, squeezing her hand. ‘Come on. We can visit. Just think of it as a day away. When’s the wedding?’

  ‘A couple of weeks. They’re getting married in secret so don’t tell anybody, not even your mum and dad. Afterwards, she’s having a little do at the club for a few close friends. Fish and chips and karaoke.’

  ‘Oh. Are we invited?’

  ‘You bet.’ Becky put down her fork and pushed the plate away, suddenly not hungry. ‘I’m happy for her but I’m going to miss her, Simon. I feel like she’s leaving me and I don’t want her to. I want her to stay. Isn’t that terrible of me?’

  ‘Hey … you’ve got me now, sweetheart. Have you considered that she was maybe waiting for you to be settled first before she did this? Maybe she’s been keeping this guy hanging around for all this time and now she can finally say yes to him.’

  Maybe.

  Becky knew the truth. Her mum was doing the decent thing as she saw it. This was her mum’s way of removing all temptation, of putting a distance between herself and Johnny, but she wouldn’t dream of telling Simon that. There was no need to tell him that now. That possibility had never occurred to him and why should it? This way, with temptation removed, there would be no problems on that score. Damn Johnny. She didn’t think the father/son relationship was a particularly close one but she didn’t want to be the one responsible for causing a rift between them.

  However, she just hoped her mum was marrying Alan for the right reason because it smacked a little of desperation.

  The wedding was at the register office.

  Becky had persuaded her mum into wearing a smart cream suit, the skirt knee-length, with pink accessories and a feathery fascinator on top of her head. Alan, a big broad chap with an Australian tan, looked uncomfortable in a dark suit but he was as cheerful a character as Becky remembered, delighted to see her again.

  ‘If it isn’t little Becky,’ he said, eyeing her up and down. ‘All grown up and married. Congratulations, by the way.’

  ‘Congratulations to you too, Alan,’ she said, coming perilously close to calling him Uncle Alan and glad she had not.

  ‘She played bloody hard to get, that mother of yours,’ he told Becky happily. ‘If I’ve asked her once I’ve asked her twenty times. You could have knocked me down with a feather when she said yes.’

  Afterwards, at the club, the fish and chips were superb, the company excellent.

  And Shelley, resplendent in a brand new blue sequinned dress, make-up on full power, hair newly coloured, finall
y got to sing her ‘Big Spender’ before she disappeared with her new husband to Australia and a new life.

  The following month, Becky found she was pregnant.

  She was clutching Simon’s hand so hard that she was probably leaving an imprint on it but he made no move to release her.

  The nurse had popped her head round the door, her expression giving nothing away, saying that the operation was over and Mr Jenkins was on his way to see them.

  Becky leapt to her feet, knocking over her cup on the little table as she did so. The remains of the tea splashed on to her legs and she rubbed at her trousers in dismay, not wanting Mr Jenkins, the immaculately clad bow-tied consultant, to see her with stained jeans.

  ‘Do I look all right?’ she asked ridiculously.

  ‘Fine. Now listen …’ Simon was saying urgently as they heard the unmistakable sound of Mr Jenkins’ deep voice in the corridor. ‘No matter what has happened, we still have each other, darling. Hang on to that.’

  She could not speak.

  All she could think of was her baby, her baby with the trusting grey-blue eyes so like her daddy’s and the soft curly fair hair so like hers. The little girl who had learned to walk only recently, who had held out her little arms as she stumbled towards her. They would count the number of steps and then cheer and applaud her.

  She could not lose her.

  Her eyes were fixed on the door as she watched the handle turn.

  She would know from his face.

  TEN

  Adele

  BEFORE RORY ARRIVED on the scene and long before baby Alexander, Adele Bond was engaged to James.

  Her parents, Richard and Louisa, and his, Michael and Jennifer, greeted the news with great shouts of delight, her mother producing a bottle of champagne at once to toast the happy couple. The two older couples had known each other for ever, it seemed, and they had always secretly hoped that one day the ‘children’ would get together.

  So, after a few detours, she and James had finally obliged.

  James, tall, lanky, with a permanently surprised look, was a junior doctor working back at the hospital at home now and Adele had moved in with him a year earlier. They had a poky flat in a built-up area close to the hospital – a purely temporary arrangement, they hoped – and had settled into a busy routine with James working his socks off in A&E. He rarely talked about his work and she never questioned him much although she could always tell when he had had a particularly bad session.

  ‘I’m so glad for you, darling. It’s high time you two made it official,’ her mother said to her, eyes shining in delight, as they snatched a quiet moment together in the kitchen on the day of the announcement. ‘Your father and I were beginning to think you’d never get round to it although, you know me, I’ve never minded you living together.’

  Adele laughed for clearly she had.

  ‘Well, let’s say I’ve grown used to it then,’ her mother said, giving her a look. ‘I like to think I’m as broadminded as the next woman – one has to be these days – but I still believe it’s better to be married before you start a family. All this business of getting married and having your baby in the photographs with you is just a little too liberal for me to take.’

  ‘We are not getting married so that we can start a family. I haven’t changed my mind about that,’ Adele told her, annoyed because becoming a grandmother was all her mother seemed to think about.

  ‘You will,’ Louisa said firmly. ‘By the way, my friend Harriet’s daughter-in-law has just had a baby boy. Rufus Duncan, a whopping ten and a half pounds and a red-head just like his daddy. She had a fearful time. Honestly, you would think in this day and age that they could make childbirth a little more palatable, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Rufus Duncan?’

  ‘Yes, awful isn’t it?’ Louisa smiled. ‘However, each to his own. And I suppose it will suit the red hair. The day after Rufus arrived, I went with Harriet into town. She’s discovered this wonderful little boutique run by a Frenchwoman and she spent a fortune on baby clothes. I daren’t tell your father how much. They have these darling little cashmere sweaters, baby size, £40 each. The child will want for nothing. They have such sweet little garments these days, Adele. I can’t wait to start collecting things. I shall be in there as soon as you are pregnant.’

  ‘Oh, Mother, please. You know how I feel.’

  ‘I know how you think you feel. We all feel nervous about it. It’s all these television programmes where you see the poor mother writhing in agony. They are not the least helpful. It’s not quite as bad as that, believe me, and as soon as the baby arrives you forget all about the pain. Instantly. It’s marvellous the way it just switches off. It wasn’t so bad having you and you were a decent weight at that. You’d never think looking at me that I was barely four pounds, would you? Mind you, I was premature so it was actually quite a good weight and Mother is a small lady. Poor Mother, it must have been a dreadful worry for her in those days. They didn’t have the equipment then. Nowadays you have no need to worry. You can even have an elective Caesarean I believe if you can get the doctor to come up with a good enough excuse.’

  ‘I’ve told you before.’ Adele closed the kitchen door on the partying sounds and spun round to face her. She didn’t want an argument, not today of all days, but honestly her mother just wouldn’t be told. ‘How many times do I have to say it? I don’t want children. I’ve thought long and hard about it and I’ve come to a decision. It’s not been an easy decision, Mother, so please try to respect it.’

  Louisa made a humph sound.

  ‘I’ve seen what happens to people when they have children,’ Adele went on, sparing no punches now for her mother would simply not be told and therefore she had to be brutal. ‘Once you have kids, you no longer have a life to call your own. And you seem to spend all your time worrying yourselves sick about them. You’ve said yourself you never stop. I don’t want that responsibility.’

  ‘That is so selfish.’ Her mother sighed. ‘What does James think?’

  Ah, well.

  She had not actually got round to telling him yet. In fact, she was beginning, just beginning, to have doubts about all this. And what a fine time to start having doubts when you have just announced your engagement.

  ‘They will be pleased, won’t they?’ James had said on their way over to show off the sparkling ring. They had chosen a Sunday when the two sets of parents were at Louisa’s for lunch. The four of them were thick as thieves, spending a good deal of their leisure time together. ‘I can’t wait to see my mother’s face.’

  Looking at him, did she detect a hint of a rueful smile?

  They had done what was expected of them.

  They had been good children.

  But had they been pushed into it?

  Had they done it, got together, merely to please their parents? She thought back to the proposal, such as it had been, with a rueful smile herself.

  ‘Why don’t we get married?’ he had said, almost as an afterthought.

  ‘What?’

  They were in the car, James’s car, and it was a Saturday afternoon and with James off duty for once, they were doing that most romantic thing together – the weekly supermarket shop. Completely focussed on the job in hand, they had done it in record time, keeping strictly to the list, loading up the trolley, unloading it into the car, almost all of this in silence for there wasn’t much joy in any of it.

  And then, on the way home, taking a detour to avoid the heavy traffic, they had passed by a church and the bells were pealing and people were pouring out of the entrance and, in the thick of it, the bride and groom. It was a nice day for it, the sun shining, the trees lining the church path at their summery best.

  ‘Slow down,’ Adele urged, wanting to do that most feminine thing and have a peep, catch a glimpse of the actual dress. Good grief, it was one of those awful over-frilly things and there was a preponderance of very large, very silly hats amongst the guests. She must have sighed, more at the fa
shion sense or lack of it, and looking back she thought James must have misinterpreted the sigh because it was then that he said it, pulling away and speeding up.

  ‘Why don’t we get married?’

  Had he really said it? To think that, about six months ago, she had been willing him to say it, expecting him to say it, wondering indeed if she should do the saying herself. They were in a committed relationship, for heaven’s sake, so they both knew exactly what was what.

  She waited until they were back at the flat. She hated the place but, despite James being a doctor, it was all they could afford just now. It was a second-floor flat and there was no lift and that made shopping double hell because it all had to be carried up the stairs. Today, they had thirteen bags between them.

  They always argued about the best way to do it. Should they do several trips with lighter bags or go the whole hog and do it in one, laden like a Sherpa and very nearly needing oxygen by the time they reached their door? Today they chose the second option with Adele’s arms nearly pulled out of their sockets by the three bags in each hand. Ahead of her, with more bags than she had, James took the stairs quickly, waiting with a smile for her as she finally made it to the summit.

  They dumped the shopping unceremoniously inside the door. Sorting it out and putting it away was just one step too far.

  ‘Fancy a cup of coffee first?’ James suggested. ‘I’ll make it. You go and sit down.’

  She did as she was told, appalled by her lack of fitness. Her mother was fitter than she was with all the dog walks she did.

  ‘Well?’ James appeared beside her, mug of coffee in hand. He was eating a chocolate biscuit but knew better than to offer her one. ‘How about it?’

  ‘You weren’t serious?’

  ‘Of course I was serious. Would I say it if I didn’t mean it? What do you say?’

  She sat up and took the mug from him.

  ‘Do you want me to do it properly?’ he asked. ‘Get down on my knees?’

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ She took a sip of coffee. Just as she liked it, strong, black, no sugar. But then James knew a lot about her. As he had known her, more or less, since they were small children, it was hardly surprising. ‘All right,’ she said. ‘Why not?’