‘But you don’t like her,’ I said. ‘You call her a murderer’s mum and things like that, so why do you want to walk me down there?’
‘Because if I walk with you the kids will leave you alone, but I’m not staying with you. I think that woman’s evil, so you’re going to have to make your own way out of here.’
I stepped out and she followed me. I felt quite secure as I walked down the road with her. No one attacked us physically but after a few metres we started to get the verbal. A girl who I recognised from my first trip down the street was the first. She walked behind us with a couple of her friends and began to talk to the back of our heads.
‘So are you scared of being on your own, then, little boy? You can’t protect him all the time, you know, Carla.’
‘Shut up, Tasha.’
Tasha and her group backed off when we were approached by four boys from the front. Their spokesperson addressed me.
‘You’re going to get dropped.’
‘Don’t say anything,’ said Carla.
A few other things were shouted but we just ignored them, and then we reached number thirty-five. Carla looked at me unimpressed.
‘I think you’re a nice boy, Jackson, but I really can’t see what you want with someone like her. Apart from what her son’s done she’s such a horrible person, she’s a bitch and she’s a witch.’
‘Come on, Carla,’ I replied. ‘Where did you get all that from?’
‘We live here so we know. You are just passing through, but we see what she’s like all the time. I have to go now. Maybe you can drop by and see us again, but not when you’re coming to see the beast.’
She walked away and for a moment I stood and thought about Carla’s hatred of Miss Ferrier, but then I saw that group of boys heading my way so I rang the bell.
Miss Ferrier shouted through the door again.
‘Who is it?’
‘Me, Jackson,’ I said hurriedly. ‘Can you open up quickly, please? There are some bad people coming my way.’
Fortunately she opened up quickly and I was soon inside. She took me upstairs to her living room, gave me that photo album again, and a small carton of fruit juice. I looked at the photo album and came across a photo of Lionel I hadn’t seen before. He was smiling and I noticed that there was a hand on his shoulder but the photo had been cut in half so I couldn’t see whose hand it was.
‘Lionel looks really happy here,’ I said.
‘Do you think so?’ she replied.
‘Yeah, I think so. But why is the photo cut in half?
‘Because his dad was standing next to him,’ she said abruptly.
‘So is that his dad’s hand on his shoulder?’
‘Yes, and the only reason he’s smiling is because the photographer told him to. Look very carefully and you’ll see it’s a forced smile. Look at his eyes and you’ll see his eyes don’t match his face.’
I looked, and she was right. His eyes stared beyond the camera and his smile looked as if it was fixed on. His lips were in the right position but his face wasn’t smiling. Miss Ferrier stared at the photo album in my hand and began to speak.
‘Sometimes I look at those photos and wonder what Lionel would have been like if his life was different. Did I just get involved with the wrong type of man? Was I a bad mother? I don’t know. I just wish that I could have a normal son. I really want to see him but I’m scared to go, I’m scared of how he will react if I go to see him. It could make things worse between us.’
‘Do you miss him?’ I asked.
‘I think about him all the time, and I can’t get used to the absolute silence in the house now that he has gone, but I’d rather have silence than violence. I haven’t had peace in my life for a long time, but now that I have some peace and some freedom I don’t know what to do with it. All I do is sit here thinking about what life would be like if things were different. I feel happiest when I’m dreaming about how life could have been. I hardly ever go out and I have no friends. It’s not much of a life, but at least I have some peace now. I don’t know what will happen to Lionel. I just hope that somehow he turns into a better person, but I just don’t think it will happen.’
Miss Ferrier stopped speaking. Now was the time to ask her the big question, but I was nervous.
‘Miss Ferrier, you’ve told me what some people think of you and you know I don’t agree with that rubbish, right?’
‘Right.’
‘And you know that I don’t judge people, right?’
‘Right.’
‘OK. Now that’s agreed I want to ask you something. What are you doing the day after tomorrow?’
She thought for a while. ‘I’ll be doing what I do every Friday. Nothing. I’ll be sitting here letting the world pass me by.’
‘Do you want to come to my house for dinner on Friday?’
She didn’t hesitate to answer.
‘No.’
‘Just no?’ I said.
‘That’s right,’ she said. ‘Just no.’
‘Why?’
‘Why should I?’
‘Just for a meal, just for a change of scenery. You just said you don’t get out much.’
‘No. I’m not going.’
‘But why, Miss Ferrier, why not?’
‘For a start I’ve never been to anyone’s house for a meal, and anyway what good’s a change of scenery?’
I began to plead.
‘Please, Miss Ferrier, my mum said it’s fine, and it will be good. I’ll come and get you and make sure you come back safely –’
‘You,’ she interrupted. ‘You can’t even walk down this street safely.’
‘Yes, but this street is different. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure everything is fine.’
Miss Ferrier lowered her head until her chin was resting on her chest. She was still for a while; it felt like a long while. She then raised her head and looked towards the ceiling for another long while, and then she looked at me, right into my eyes.
‘OK. If you promise to look after me.’
‘Great. I promise,’ I said, raising my clenched fist in front of my face, but then I realised I had forgotten something.
‘Oh, Miss Ferrier, there’s one more thing.’
‘Don’t tell me you’re vegans,’ she said, rolling her eyes.
‘No,’ I said. ‘It’s just that that Mrs Joseph is going to be there too.’
She stood up at the speed of lightning.
‘Her? Are you mad? No way. Forget it.’
‘Why not?’ I found myself asking again.
‘Why not? Come on, Jackson, I know you’re young but you weren’t born yesterday, use your common sense. Look what Lionel has done to her life. The poor woman has lost her husband, so I can’t imagine what she thinks of me. She must hate me, she must hate my guts, she must hate every bone in my body.’
I tried to slow her down.
‘No she doesn’t. She didn’t say anything to you when you were in court, did she? She’s not like a lot of people. She’s not out for revenge, she doesn’t hold a grudge against you, and she knows that I’ve come here now to ask you.’
She looked back into my eyes, her voice dropped.
‘You mean she knows you’re here asking me now?’
‘Yes.’
‘And said she would eat at the same table as me?’
‘Yes.’
‘Why?’
‘Because she’s not judging you, because she’s not blaming you.’
Miss Ferrier sat down and stared down into the half-empty cup of tea that she was holding tightly with both hands on her lap. The silence was so long that I found myself staring into the cup myself, as if the answer was in there somewhere. I began to notice the sounds of the birds outside, the dogs’ barks got louder, as did the noise of the planes flying in the sky. After what felt like an hour she turned to me and said, ‘Yes.’
Chapter 21
Night at the Round Table
When I woke up on Friday it felt as if Judg
ement Day had arrived. All the confidence that I had had was gone and I began to ask myself if bringing Mrs Joseph and Miss Ferrier together was such a good idea. I stayed in bed much longer than usual, but all I did was think negative thoughts about how it could all go tragically wrong, and when I started to picture Mrs Joseph leaning over the dinner table and plunging a knife into Miss Ferrier’s heart I decided to get up.
My mother wasn’t used to cooking for other people, she didn’t like even like cooking for me that much, so to give herself plenty of time to make mistakes she was up early reading recipes aloud as she moved around the kitchen. I tried to convince her that it would be fine to have what we ate normally, just more of it, but she wouldn’t have it. It was a special occasion, so she had to make something special. I grabbed some fruit and got out of her way. She spent most of the day downstairs cooking and cleaning, and I spent most of it upstairs being nervous. It was difficult resisting the temptation to eat throughout the day with the smell of food constantly in the air, but I just kept telling myself I had to be hungry when they arrived. If it all went wrong at least I would have something to do – eat.
Mrs Joseph arrived right on time; when we opened the door for her she greeted us with open arms as if she was a long-lost relative.
‘Hello, great to see you,’ she said to my mother as they hugged hard. ‘And you, Jackson, you handsome so and so, how are you?’
‘I’m fine, just fine.’
‘Come on in,’ said my mother. ‘It’s really good to meet you in the flesh after all this time.’
They walked in, leaving me in the hall. I closed the door and went into the living room and felt rather guilty for interrupting them as they seemed to be getting on so well.
‘Er … Mum, can I have some money?’
‘What do you need money for?’ she asked.
‘For the minicab. I told Miss Ferrier that I would pick her up.’
My mum looked at Mrs Joseph. ‘Are you really all right with this?’
Mrs Joseph didn’t hesitate to reply. ‘Yes, I am.’
‘It’s a pretty brave thing to do. I admire you,’ said my mother.
‘No, not at all,’ said Mrs Joseph. ‘I think she’s the brave one, I’m just Little Miss Innocent, I’m not sure if I could do what she’s doing if I were in her shoes.’
‘You have a point,’ said my mother. ‘Now, Jackson, you need some money, do you?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘Well, you can’t have any.’
‘Mum, why?’
‘Because you arranged all this, it’s your project, so I think you should bear the cost. I was going to charge you for the food but I’ll let you off with that,’ my mum said playfully, ‘but I still think that if you promised to transport your guest here then you should factor that into your costings. Basically, son, it’s one of your expenses.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ I moaned.
‘Don’t moan,’ she replied. ‘You know what I told you, life is expensive and you have to learn to pay your way.’
‘But, Mum, I’ve only got what I’ve saved up from my pocket money.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘So you can use that.’
So I had no choice. I called a minicab and used some of the money that I was saving up for a portable DVD player. It was much better viewing the kids on Fentham Road from the car. As we drove down the road I ducked my head to avoid being seen by them. When the car stopped I left the door open just in case I needed a quick getaway and then I nervously rang the bell. It was as if Miss Ferrier was waiting by the door because the moment I rang the bell she opened it. She was dressed just as she was in court. She didn’t say hello but she wasted no time in putting her questions to me.
‘This is not such a good idea, is it? What’s the point in all this? Why don’t we just stop this now before it’s too late?’
‘Don’t worry, Miss Ferrier,’ I said, trying my best to reassure her and watch my back at the same time. ‘Are you ready, can we go now?’
‘If we must,’ she replied.
We both sat on the back seat and she moaned all the way to my house. It wasn’t nasty moaning, she wasn’t being horrible or ungrateful, she just couldn’t understand why anybody would want to be in her company. She probably wouldn’t have admitted it, but I thought she was frightened.
When we arrived home she stopped moaning and began being as polite as she could. She followed me into the living room, where my mother and Mrs Joseph quickly stood up to greet her.
‘This is my mother.’
They shook hands.
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘And this is Mrs Joseph.’
They shook hands.
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ my mother asked.
‘No thanks,’ replied Miss Ferrier.
‘A drop of wine?’
‘Wine?’ said Miss Ferrier, a little surprised.
‘Yes, wine. Red or white?’
‘Actually, I’ve changed my mind. Can I have some tea, please?
‘Yes of course,’ said my mother, ‘and you, Mary?’
‘Yes please,’ said Mrs Joseph.
‘So it’s Mary now, is it? I said.
‘Do you have a problem with that?’ my mother said as she headed for the kitchen.
We all sat down and Mrs Joseph, aka Mary, started with the small talk.
‘So how was the taxi ride here?’
‘It was OK,’ replied Miss Ferrier. ‘I haven’t been in a cab for years, me.’
‘You don’t like them?’ asked Mrs Joseph sympathetically.
‘No, I’ve got nothing against them, it’s just that I don’t ever need one. Anything I want to do is within walking distance and if I have to venture further afield I use the bus. They get crowded sometimes, and if you get on one when the kids are coming home from school you’ll be disgusted by the language they use, but I do like a bus ride every now and then. Do you use the buses?’ she asked.
The talk until my mother returned to the room was about how buses had changed over the years. All I did was sit there and listen. It was quite interesting. I didn’t know that buses used to have someone on them called a conductor who would go round and take fares and talk to people. And I didn’t know that there used to be two number 35s, a 35a and a 35b. The 35a used to go all the way to the White Horse, but the 35b only used to go to the Royal Oak and turn back. I really didn’t know that stuff. It was a strange thing to be talking about, I thought, but I think the only reason they were talking bus routes was because talking about why they were really together might be a bit more difficult.
When my mother returned the subject changed to matters more intellectual: the difference in prices between the various local supermarkets. It was all above my head. Just as that conversation was running out of steam my mother invited everyone into the dining room. Miss Ferrier and Mrs Joseph offered to help her bring the food to the table. I offered too and all I got was, ‘It’s all right, son, you just sit down and we’ll bring the food to you. Besides, I can’t risk any more broken plates.’
So when we sat down to eat the topic of conversation was set up.
Mrs Joseph went first. ‘Well, Jackson, you’ve broken a few plates, then?’
‘No, not a few. Two.’ I replied.
‘Come on, Jackson,’ said my mother. ‘Tell the truth.’
‘Two,’ I said.
‘And yesterday?’
‘That was you,’ I said. ‘I was passing the plate to you and it was you who dropped it.’
‘I don’t think so,’ said my mother.
‘I do,’ I said.
‘Jackson,’ said Mrs Joseph. ‘There’s nothing wrong with dropping plates. I drop them all the time.’
Just then I noticed that Miss Ferrier was looking intensely at Mrs Joseph. Suddenly she stood up and spoke.
‘I’m really sorry about what happened to
your husband. I tried my best to raise my son to have good values but I wasn’t the one that he listened to, I wasn’t important to him. I’m really sorry, it wasn’t my fault. You don’t have to pretend that you like me, you know, I wouldn’t blame you if you hated me, because if I was in your shoes I would be angry and I wouldn’t be as calm as you. Just say what you want to me. Go on, say it, you don’t have to be nice to me, and we don’t need all this nice talk. Just say what you want to say.’
Mrs Joseph was as cool as anything. She smiled and said, ‘Look, I’m not pretending, I’m not blaming you, I’m not angry with you, and I’m not trying to be nice to you. Well, I am trying to be nice to you but only like I’m trying to be nice to Jackson, or his mum. Please relax, come on, sit down. Jackson thought we should all get together and we all agreed. There’s no secret agenda. When I said I was pleased to meet you I really meant it.’
‘You must hate me,’ said Miss Ferrier.
‘I don’t,’ said Mrs Joseph.
It was me who brought them together so I thought I should say something.
‘No one’s blaming you, Miss Ferrier, no one’s angry with you, and no one’s judging you. Trust me.’
‘I trust you, Jackson,’ said Miss Ferrier, looking into her food. ‘I do trust you but this is all a bit strange to me. I can’t understand why anybody would want to be in the same room as me.’
My mother joined in.
‘Talk, that’s what I say, communication. If we communicate we build up understanding, if we have understanding the world will be a better place.’
‘That’s right,’ said Mrs Joseph. ‘I agree with that. The world will be a better place if we all talked more and did a lot more exercise.’
Miss Ferrier jumped up and freaked out again.
‘I’ve had enough of this. What do you want? What do you want? You didn’t bring me here to just feed me, you didn’t bring me here to talk about traffic, and supermarkets, and your communicating, and your exercise. Exercise? Who cares about exercise? You’re up to something, I know it, you must be up to something.’ She stood up and walked towards her coat.
‘I’m going. I don’t understand all this. I’m going.’
Teacher's Dead Page 9
