Starlight on the Palace Pier

by Tracy Corbett

  His mother raised an eyebrow. ‘Someone’s changed their tune.’

  He shrugged. ‘I was wrong. I admit it.’

  ‘And what about Becca?’

  ‘The same. She’s talented, resourceful, creative and bloody stubborn.’

  His mother laughed.

  It’d been a while since he’d heard her laugh. Not without booze being a factor. ‘They make a formidable team. While you were away the council threatened to withdraw our grant funding if we didn’t do more to improve community engagement. Becca and Jodi weren’t about to let that happen. They came up with the idea of a showcase to promote the place.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope it works,’ she said, heading over to the desk. ‘Especially as I’ve decided to offer them permanent co-management of the place.’

  He startled. ‘You have?’

  She turned to look at him. ‘It’s time I took a back seat. I’d like to stay involved but hand over the day-to-day running to someone else. It’ll allow me the space I need to maintain a sober lifestyle. And let’s face it, this place has been on the decline for years, which I blocked out by drinking. With any luck, they can turn things around.’ She picked up one of the showcase flyers. ‘If today’s anything to go by, they’re halfway there. I’ve never seen the car park so busy.’

  ‘They’ve done a great job. Becca has some amazing ideas, like dementia-friendly cinema screenings and dance classes for people with disabilities.’

  She smiled. ‘I knew they were the right people to leave in charge.’

  ‘And you were proved right.’ He shrugged. ‘So how was rehab?’

  She slumped against the desk. ‘Painful, but necessary. Detox was the hardest part, but then I always knew it would be. That and letting go of my denial.’ Her smile was self-deprecating. ‘Dealing with the shame and guilt of being an alcoholic was pretty torrid. Not to mention exhausting. But I found the counselling sessions useful, and the cognitive behavioural therapy.’ She fiddled with her necklace, as if needing to occupy her fingers.

  He waited for her to continue. He didn’t want to interrogate her, as she’d once accused him of doing.

  ‘I learnt a few coping techniques to help me remain sober, which I’ll need to practise every day.’

  He watched her expression. ‘How do you feel about that?’

  ‘Resigned,’ she said, with a shrug. ‘It’s a bit like being an athlete. If you don’t exercise every day, you won’t stay fit. I think that was my mistake before. I’d get sober and assume the hard work had been done. I’m learning that my recovery is still in its fledgling stage.’

  ‘Will the centre continue to support you?’

  She nodded. ‘They recommend I attend regular AA meetings and family support sessions for at least twelve months. Right now, I don’t want to drink, but I’m not naive enough to think that’ll last. If I can get past the first ninety days, then my chances of maintaining abstinence will improve. In the meantime, I need to recognise the early warning signs of a relapse and embrace the things that will enable me to live a sober lifestyle.’

  He’d never heard her talk about her addiction this way before. It felt like a breakthrough. ‘I’m so proud of you, Mum. And just so you know, you won’t have to go through it alone. I’m staying in Brighton.’

  ‘You don’t need to do that.’

  ‘I want to.’

  She came over. ‘You need to stop trying to protect me. I know it won’t be easy, but I have to live my own life and make my own mistakes. You’re not responsible for me. If I fail, it’s down to me, no one else.’

  ‘I can’t stand back and do nothing.’

  ‘But if I keep relying on you to save me, I’ll never learn to stand on my own two feet. It’s time for me to be the parent in this relationship.’ She stroked his hair. ‘You need to find your own path in life, not be dragged down mine, waiting for me to stumble. I love you too much to allow that.’ She curled a lock of his hair around her finger.

  He wanted to believe her. But abandoning her completely wasn’t an option. ‘There’s another reason staying in Brighton appeals.’

  ‘And what’s that, my love?’

  ‘I’ve decided to move into family law, specialising in domestic violence cases. I think I’d be better suited to prosecuting perpetrators than defending them.’ It was a new direction for him. One that excited him.

  She tilted her head. ‘You don’t need to be in Brighton to do that.’

  ‘True…but there’s another reason I want to stay.’

  She smiled. ‘Becca Roberts?’

  ‘That obvious, huh?’

  ‘Mother’s intuition.’ She studied his face. ‘So staying in Brighton is also about reconnecting with Becca?’

  He mulled over how much to admit. ‘That’s what I want…but I messed up. We went from butting heads, to forming a truce, to having fun…but then she backed off, saying we could never be together. She hasn’t forgiven me for walking away twelve years ago. I don’t blame her. I behaved like a jerk.’

  ‘Then apologise.’

  ‘I’ve tried. She’s not interested.’

  ‘If that were true, then why did she tear strips off your father for bad-mouthing you?’

  He wondered if he’d heard correctly. ‘She did what? When?’

  ‘I don’t know the exact details, but your father was quite taken aback. By all accounts she gave him a right telling-off. I think it changed his opinion of her. And of you, for that matter. Does that sound like the behaviour of a woman disinterested?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Did it? ‘Hang on, when did you speak to Dad?’

  ‘He picked me up from rehab this morning.’

  Tom tried not to feel hurt that she hadn’t asked him to collect her.

  ‘If you want Becca, then you’ll have to fight for her.’ She cupped his cheek. ‘But first, will you please go and find your father and talk to the wretched man.’

  ‘You mean, he’s still here?’

  ‘He didn’t want to leave without seeing you.’

  Tom shook his head, dislodging her hand. ‘I’m not ready to forgive him.’

  She gave him a stern look. ‘And you think Becca’s stubborn? You know, the anger you feel towards your father isn’t wholly justified.’

  Was she delusional? ‘He left you.’

  ‘And with good reason. I made his life hell. He was right to leave.’

  ‘How can you say that?’ When she’d needed his dad the most, he’d walked out. Left her to battle her addiction alone.

  She sighed. ‘Because it’s the truth. You need to stop being so harsh on your father and punishing him. He isn’t perfect, but then who is? Certainly not me. I wasn’t there for you when you were growing up, and your poor father had to care for the pair of us. It was unforgivable of me.’ Tears pooled in her eyes. ‘I’ve messed up time and time again, but you’ve always forgiven me, haven’t you?’

  ‘That’s different. You have an illness.’

  ‘It doesn’t excuse my behaviour. Haven’t you just been telling me how distressing it is that Becca won’t forgive you? Even though you’re sorry, she won’t move past it?’

  ‘That’s different.’ At least, he was pretty sure it was.

  ‘No, it’s not. It’s the same thing. Your dad wants to make amends. To both of us. And I need to do the same. But that won’t be possible if you two are still at loggerheads. Do it for me, if not for yourself. I need my family. Even your dad.’ She hugged him. ‘Please, Tom. Let him be a part of your life.’

  He hugged her back. She no longer smelt of booze. He didn’t know why, but that tiny fact made him well up. ‘Fine. I’ll do it for you.’

  ‘Good, boy.’ She released him and ruffled his hair, like she’d done when he was a kid. ‘And when you’ve made up with your father go and find Becca. You’d be a fool to lose that girl a second time.’

  Like he needed telling.

  *

  Considering how the day had begun, Tom had expected the showcase to be a f
ull-blown disaster. But anyone visiting the playhouse now would be oblivious to the earlier dramas. All the exhibitions had been well received, and the café area was heaving, filled with families being entertained by Benny-the-Buffoon. The sound of laughter echoed through the playhouse, accompanied by sudden bursts of trumpet when Benny blew into his instrument.

  Following Vivienne’s departure, Becca had taken over her front-of-house duties. She looked happy and energised, chatting with visitors and demonstrating sensitivity when dealing with the volunteers from the night shelter. Tonight’s finale event had sold out, which was brilliant news. A testament to her hard work and determination to improve the fortunes of the playhouse.

  He’d been a fool for not believing in her sooner.

  But despite his mother’s optimism, he still felt like he’d blown any chance of being with her again.

  Jodi appeared in the foyer regaling the councillors with facts about the showcase and their plans to develop the arts centre. He didn’t need to intervene, she had them eating out of the palm of her hand. No one would guess that only a few hours earlier she’d been tearful and close to being carted off in a police car.

  He conducted a sweep of the premises. Eddie had a handle on security, and Leon was managing the packed bar with ease. Satisfied the event was running smoothly, he went over to his father, who was studying the photo exhibition with the other patrons.

  ‘Enjoying the showcase?’ he said, pulling up a chair. See? He could do conciliatory.

  His father looked startled, but then smiled. ‘It’s good to see the place thriving.’

  Tom looked around at the masses of people crammed into the bar, laughing and joking. ‘It’s just as well I didn’t get rid of Becca and Jodi as you suggested.’

  His father flinched. ‘I guess I asked for that.’

  And then some.

  But he’d promised his mother he’d make the effort. ‘How’s your health?’

  ‘Not too bad. I’m sticking with soft drinks.’ He nodded to his glass of juice on the table. ‘What about you? Your skin’s less sallow than last time I saw you.’

  Tom had noticed that too. He’d barely used his inhaler this week. ‘It’s improving.’

  Something else he had to thank Becca for. Encouraging him to relax and have fun had been a much-needed tonic. And maybe now the Izzy situation was sorted his breathing would continue to improve.

  His father shifted in his chair. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks.’ A pause followed. Thankfully, the bar noise masked their awkward silence.

  His dad cleared his throat. ‘You weren’t the only one who found it difficult, you know.’

  Tom frowned. ‘Found what difficult?’

  ‘Dealing with your mother.’

  And there it was. He supposed if they stood any chance of reconciling then it was a conversation that had to happen. ‘Go on.’

  His father paused, looking uncharacte‌ristically unsure of himself. ‘I found it…difficult trying to juggle working with raising a family and contributing to the upkeep of a four-hundred-year-old manor house. And so I buried myself in work. That way I didn’t have to deal with what was happening at home. In truth, I stayed away because I didn’t know how to handle it.’

  Tom felt his chest tighten. And his breathing had been so good of late. ‘So you left a teenage kid to deal with his alcoholic mother?’

  His father sighed. ‘You seemed to cope better than I did. You don’t know what it’s like to get a phone call telling you your wife is wandering down the middle of the road falling into cars and swearing at the police. It’s—’

  ‘What, Dad? Humiliating?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Too damned right!’ When a few heads turned, Tom lowered his voice. ‘And who do you think went and got her when you weren’t there?’

  ‘I didn’t know what to do.’

  ‘And neither did I.’ Tom rubbed his face. How many times had he come home from school to find his mum slumped in one of the wingchairs, her clothes creased, her hair a mess? ‘You don’t walk away from someone you love just because life isn’t always easy.’

  ‘You make it sound so clear cut. It wasn’t. And I never walked away from you. That was your doing not mine.’

  Tom baulked. ‘So you’re blameless?’

  His father crossed and uncrossed his legs. ‘That’s not what I’m saying. I just think that maybe…’ He cleared his throat. ‘In hindsight…perhaps I handled you wrong.’

  Tom raised an eyebrow. Unless he was mistaken, it sounded like his dad was about to admit he’d made a mistake. Impossible.

  ‘I didn’t know what to do, especially when you argued back. I didn’t want to be seen backing down.’ His father pushed his glasses up his nose. ‘You were so like your mother. Stubborn. You still are. I could never handle her either.’

  ‘You hated that.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ He leant forwards, encroaching on Tom’s space. ‘I loved your mother. It tore me apart to watch her ruining herself with drink. I didn’t know what to do.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘And yes, I hated that.’

  Tom had never seen his father vulnerable before. Gone was the invincible Silk. In his place, was a fragile middle-aged man with a heart condition. ‘So where do we go from here?’

  His father must have sensed a chink of hope. ‘Is there a chance we could leave the past behind and move on? You’re an adult now. You have a successful career. You’re no longer a rebellious teenager trying to prove a point. And I’ve changed too. I’ve reduced my hours, which means I’ll have time to help you. I know you don’t want to achieve Silk, but maybe I could help in another way. Your mother tells me you’re planning to relocate to Brighton? Will you let me fund premises for you? Or help source an associate partner? I’ll do whatever it takes.’

  Tom looked away. ‘Thanks, but I’ve told you, I don’t need your help.’

  ‘You mean, you don’t want it?’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m stubborn, remember?’

  It was a beat before they looked at each other and laughed.

  Tom rubbed his forehead. ‘Christ, you’re not going to give up, are you?’

  His father shook his head. ‘Never.’

  Tom watched a couple study one of the photo exhibits. They were holding hands, exchanging adoring looks. It evoked a deep sense of longing within him. ‘I hear you had a run-in with Becca?’

  His father nodded. ‘She told me a few home truths.’

  ‘I’m sure you deserved it. You were a bastard to her twelve years ago.’ But then, so was Tom. He was projecting his guilt onto his father.

  ‘I know, and I’m sorry. But I was scared for you. I didn’t want to see your potential wasted.’

  Tom folded his arms. ‘It’s not me you need to apologise to.’

  ‘And I will, I promise.’ His father looked at him. ‘But that’ll be hard for me to do if I’m not in your life. If you’d forgive me, then it’d make it easier for me to make amends, to both of you.’

  Tom laughed. ‘Ever the negotiator.’

  His father held out his hand, a hopeful look on his face. ‘Is that a yes?’

  Tom made him sweat a bit longer before conceding. ‘Fine. You’re forgiven.’

  Harvey Elliot pulled Tom into a hug. ‘I’m sorry, son.’

  Tom swallowed past the lump in his throat. ‘Me too.’

  He’d done as his mother had asked and buried the hatchet with his father.

  Now all he had to do was work out how to do the same with Becca.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  …later that evening

  Jodi was standing in the wings watching the finale. She hadn’t wanted to be out front with the crowds. Her feet hurt from wearing court shoes all day and she was exhausted from trying to put on a brave face with the councillors. She was content to hide in the shadows and remain invisible. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast and her throat was dry and scratchy. She craved a warm drink. Maybe once the show was over.
For now, she had no desire to move.

  The children finished their ballet routine and received a tumultuous round of applause. They’d looked endearingly cute in their pink tutus, floating around the stage like tiny rose petals. They hadn’t put a foot wrong – not that she could tell. Becca might think otherwise, but she doubted it. Her cousin was standing on the opposite side of the stage, her hands clasped together willing the kids to do well. As they ran offstage, Becca hugged and praised them, before sending them back onstage for a second bow.

  Tom appeared next to Jodi in the wings. ‘It’s going well, isn’t it? All that hard work has paid off. You should be proud.’

  She shrugged. ‘I guess.’

  The house lights dimmed. Murmured voices filtered through from the auditorium.

  ‘Just as well no one listened to me.’ Tom stepped back to allow the tappers past. ‘I never thought we’d pull it off.’

  Five bodies dressed in white shuffled across the dark stage and took up their positions in front of the glitter curtain. ‘It hasn’t exactly been without its issues.’

  He glanced at her. ‘None of which was your fault.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ She lowered her voice. ‘Without me things would’ve run a lot smoother. Vivienne and Petrit would still be employed and Carolyn wouldn’t have returned from rehab to find the police leaving. Today could’ve been a disaster.’

  ‘But it wasn’t.’

  They were interrupted by the start of the tap routine. The lights lifted. The music began and five tappers turned one-by-one to face the audience and lifted their hats.

  Tom leant closer so he could whisper in her ear. ‘Vivienne and Petrit were fired because of their own stupidity. You’re the glue that’s kept everyone together. You’ve worked endless hours, overcome obstacles and never given up. You had to endure Vivienne and Petrit giving you abuse and me being a tosser. Most people would’ve quit weeks ago.’

  One of the tappers stumbled, but quickly recovered.

  Jodi sighed. ‘It’s not like I was inundated with other job offers.’