Thursdays in the Park

by Hilary Boyd

  Jeanie shook her head, ‘Go on, go. I’ll let you know if there are any developments.’

  He bent to drop a kiss on her head, then loped off. ‘Call me.’

  They moved Ellie up to the children’s ward. She slept now, her beautiful face peaceful against the white sheet. Jeanie leant back in the hospital chair they had placed beside the cot and also closed her eyes, wishing her daughter would come.

  ‘Jeanie?’ Ray stood before her, his face as strained and anxious as George’s had been. ‘How is she?’

  ‘Oh, Ray, she’s all right. She’s got swelling, but no bleed, the doctor said. They’re keeping her in overnight.’

  Ray grinned with relief. ‘Thank God! Are you OK?’

  ‘Not really, but as long as Ellie is, I don’t give a stuff.’

  ‘Quite. Where are her parents?’

  Jeanie shrugged. ‘On their way, I hope.’

  There was a scurry at the ward entrance.

  ‘Mum . . . Mum, what happened?’ Chanty rushed past Jeanie and Ray, struggling to lower the cot side in order to stroke her child’s hair as she slept and kiss the small face with a passionate ferocity.

  ‘God . . . is she OK?’ She turned to her mother, ignoring Ray. ‘Tell me.’

  Jeanie made her sit down.

  ‘It was a fall. She hit her head in the playground.’

  ‘What was she doing?’ There was an accusatory note in her voice that Jeanie saw she was too wound up to control.

  ‘I wasn’t there. She was with Alex. Ray saw it, though.’

  Chanty stared at Ray, comprehension dawning suddenly. ‘You’re the man . . . the . . . man from the playground.’ She faltered, her gaze almost hostile. Ray just nodded. ‘So where’s Alex? I’ve tried him a dozen times but he isn’t answering.’

  ‘He was going into town to see an important buyer, he said.’

  Her daughter took a moment to process this information. ‘He left her?’

  Jeanie shot a warning look at Ray. ‘At the time he thought Ellie was OK.’

  Chanty nodded. ‘But then she got ill?’

  ‘We . . . I thought it better to get her checked out. Head injuries can be deceptive; by the time they show any symptoms it can be too late.’

  ‘I’ll push off,’ Ray whispered, and Jeanie nodded. It was clear his presence was not welcomed by her daughter.

  ‘Well, thank God you did, Mum. If anything happened to her . . .’ Tears had never come easily to Chanty – she’d been a tough little girl, very self-sufficient, someone who’d always known exactly what she wanted, and usually got it. But now she cried openly.

  ‘I know, but she’s going to be OK, darling.’

  ‘What was that man doing here, Mum?’ she demanded suddenly, wiping away her tears with irritation.

  ‘Ray, his name is Ray. I said, he was there when it happened. He wanted to make sure Ellie was OK.’

  ‘So that’s the man . . . I thought you weren’t going to meet up with him any more.’

  Jeanie tried hard to keep her temper, torn between a childish desire to dump her son-in-law in it by telling Chanty what really happened, and a more mature desire to help her daughter through her distress. Maturity won out.

  ‘I wasn’t there, darling. Alex asked me to meet him in the park early to collect Ell. He’d come straight from nursery. Ray happened to be there at the same time as Alex. Coincidence.’ She paused. ‘He has a right.’

  Chanty nodded agreement, looked at her watch. ‘Where is he?’

  It was six o’clock when Alex finally put in an appearance. He looked stricken at the sight of his daughter. Ellie was awake, and although still sleepy, seemed more alert than she had since the fall.

  ‘Daddy . . .’ She reached up to receive her father’s hug.

  Alex straightened up and looked at Jeanie. ‘What happened?’

  ‘She wasn’t right, Alex. She seemed dazed. I thought it best to have her checked out. Then on the way here she vomited.’ She said no more.

  Chanty explained to him what Jeanie had told her.

  ‘So she’s going to be OK? Completely OK?’ Jeanie saw Alex was shaking, his face suddenly white.

  ‘Sit down, it’s been a shock,’ she told him, and dragged up another chair.

  He slumped down, leaning forward over Ellie’s bed, hiding his head in his arms. Jeanie realized he was crying.

  ‘I should have listened . . . that man told me, he said . . . but I didn’t want to believe it.’

  Jeanie saw her daughter’s puzzled look.

  ‘You mean Ray?’ Chanty asked.

  Alex raised his head, and for the first time since she’d known him, Jeanie saw a look of pure vulnerability in the large blue eyes. The heavy mask of self-obsession which normally prevented any real connection with the rest of the world – unless they were talking about him – had fallen away.

  ‘Yes, Ray. He saw her fall. He warned me, said he knew, and I just told him to bugger off.’

  ‘Why didn’t you say, Mum?’ Chanty looked a little shame-faced, perhaps remembering her rude distrust of Ray.

  Jeanie just shrugged.

  For a while Alex lay there, and Chanty observed him, her look hardening as she thought the information through.

  ‘So you knew Ellie had had a fall, and you knew it could be dangerous, and you just walked away?’ Her tone was steely, made worse by her own overwrought emotions.

  Jeanie watched her son-in-law sit up to face the music.

  ‘I thought she was OK, Chant, she didn’t cry and she seemed fine.’ His tone was unattractively pleading.

  ‘But you didn’t wait to find out.’

  ‘I was late for Al Dimitri. He was only in town for a day, passing through to Cannes, and my agent had shown him my work on the Net . . .’

  ‘Sorry,’ Chanty interrupted coldly. ‘But believe it or not I don’t give a rat’s arse about your sodding work right now. You left our daughter when it was clear she might need medical help.’

  ‘It wasn’t clear. I promise, it wasn’t clear.’ He looked pleadingly at Jeanie. ‘You were there, you said it was OK for me to go.’

  ‘It’s not up to my mother to tell you what to do. You’ve never paid attention to her in the past. Mum, please tell me exactly what happened.’

  ‘Ray saw the fall and because he’s a martial arts expert he sees falls all the time and is trained to know a good one from a bad one,’ Jeanie began reluctantly. ‘He thought it was a bad bang and he told Alex that. But to be fair, none of us knew whether there was a problem or not. And people make this mistake all the time.’

  ‘And die as a consequence?’ Chanty snapped.

  ‘Well, yes . . . sometimes.’

  Alex was stricken again. ‘I know, I know I’m to blame.’ He laid his hand next to his child and ran his thumb down her cheek. ‘Isn’t she the most beautiful child in the world? And I walked away. She could have died . . . and I would have been responsible.’

  His melodrama was unconvincing to Jeanie, but she could see her daughter softening, as always, at his manipulations. And perhaps – Jeanie gave him the benefit of the doubt – he had been truly shocked by what had happened.

  ‘She hasn’t died, Alex, she’s going to be fine.’ Jeanie’s tone was practical, cutting through the thickness of his performance. ‘I’m sure you’d have done the best thing when you saw she wasn’t well.’

  ‘That’s hardly the point though, is it?’ Chanty commented sharply, her husband still not forgiven. ‘You left her.’

  ‘Most people would probably have thought the same as Alex,’ Jeanie insisted, truthfully. ‘No one likes to make a fuss when there’s no clear evidence for it.’

  ‘So we have Ray to thank . . .’ Chanty clearly didn’t like this option.

  Alex began shifting uncomfortably in his chair, then got to his feet. He seemed to be about to speak, darting anxious glances at both her and Chanty.

  ‘Um . . . about Ray . . .’

  Her daughter’s eyes narrowed. ‘What about
Ray?’

  Alex took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders, as if he were about to face a firing squad.

  ‘Alex?’

  Still he hesitated. ‘Well, you know the thing that Ellie said . . . about Ray? It wasn’t true. She never said it.’

  He hung his head as if to ward off imaginary blows. And Jeanie thought for a horrible moment that Chanty was going to hit him. She was holding herself rigid in the hospital chair, her head lowered too (but not in fear), her hands clutching, white-knuckled, to her thighs, as if she were preparing to charge.

  Alex, however, despite being at the bottom of the pit, went on digging. ‘Ellie kept going on about him, how he could balance on the wobbly log without holding on and everyone clapped, and how he was brilliant at playing ball, with all sorts of funny games, and how he sang songs, bought her apple juice. And I was pissed off. I didn’t want some man doing things with my daughter that I was crap at.’

  Jeanie was shocked. Although she knew that he’d been lying, to hear his pathetic tale made her feel almost sorry for him. Imagine the hell of such an ego, she thought.

  Disbelief had outrun Chanty’s rage. She just sat there, stony-faced and silent, which was clearly more frightening than any blow to her husband.

  ‘Chanty, I’m sorry. I know it was dumb.’

  ‘Dumb?’ Chanty sprang to life. ‘Dumb? You call it “dumb” to accuse a man of molesting Ellie because you’re jealous?’ She was having trouble not shouting, but her face, normally fair, was suffused scarlet.

  ‘I didn’t exactly say child-molesting,’ Alex countered petulantly. ‘I just said . . .’

  Chanty cut him off again. ‘We know what you said, Alex. And we know what you intended to imply.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to say it, in fact I didn’t really say what you think, not at first. I just wanted you to know about him, that he was playing with Ellie . . . and you over-reacted when I told you, and then it escalated and I sort of made more of it than there was. It got out of hand before I had a chance to explain.’

  ‘So this is my fault?’ Chanty spat. Then the strength seemed to go out of her. ‘Just go away.’ She waved her hand dismissively. ‘Just leave. I can’t stand the sight of you.’

  Alex hesitated, but not for long. Jeanie watched him slope embarrassedly out of the ward.

  ‘I can’t talk about this now, Mum,’ Chanty muttered.

  For a while neither woman spoke. They both fixed their eyes on the sleeping child, who, despite being at the centre of all this upset, was mercifully unaware of the storm raging around her.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ Chanty sounded so sad, so disappointed.

  ‘He was here earlier, when we were still in A & E. I told him to go home.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘He hates hospitals. And by then Ellie was OK . . . well, OK-ish. I’ll call him in a minute.’ She couldn’t help her words sounding defensive, guilty almost. She told herself she hadn’t got rid of George because of Ray.

  For a second her daughter’s glance rested on her face, and Jeanie, to her horror, saw the dawning light of comprehension in Chanty’s eyes.

  ‘How are we getting on here?’ Sister Deehan must have witnessed the row, because her manner was politely disapproving. ‘She needs rest and quiet.’ She raised her eyebrows in Chanty’s direction. ‘You can stay tonight if you like.’

  ‘Do you want me to come back later this evening? Take over?’ Jeanie asked Chanty quietly, as they moved to allow a young nurse access to Ellie for the routine observations. Chanty hesitated.

  ‘No, Mum, you go. I’ll sleep here. I’ll be fine. How long do you think they’ll keep her in?’

  ‘She seems a bit dazed still. They’ll want her to stay quiet until the brain swelling has gone down. The A & E doctor mentioned twenty-four hours. See how she is in the morning, darling.’

  Chanty sighed, obviously close to tears again. ‘Oh, Mum, if you hadn’t been there . . .’ Jeanie put her arms round her. ‘I know you think I don’t value you, but I do, I really do. I’m so sorry for doubting you.’

  ‘I can see why you did.’

  She wanted to say more, but Chanty didn’t need reminding about her husband’s failings, nor would it help her granddaughter to have them at each other’s throats. But she did wonder how Chanty put up with Alex’s self-absorption. Someone that selfish could never be relied upon, unless his own interests were in parallel. She reflected on how solid George had always been. So much so that Jeanie realized she took his probity for granted.

  George had cooked supper. He had only one dish in his repertoire – spaghetti Bolognese – but he did it well, and, as was to be expected, was meticulous in his organization and presentation: everything measured out and lined up, the table set, the wine uncorked, the salad waiting for its dressing. But tonight Jeanie was grateful.

  ‘Bit of a nightmare, eh?’ he said, stirring the sauce fussily. ‘Lucky you were there.’

  Jeanie wondered if Ray’s name would be mentioned by either Chanty or Alex in connection with today’s incident. She had never told George about meeting Ray in the park with Ellie, not even in the early days.

  ‘Pour the wine . . .’ he pointed at the bottle, ‘and sit down. You must be exhausted.’

  ‘I was frightened out of my wits, George. I . . . I just kept on asking over and over again for her to be all right.’ Once she was seated, she felt she would never have the strength to stand again. She reached for the wine and half-filled both glasses. (George was always very insistent that red wine should have room to breathe.) The full, fruity tannin hit her throat with an instant magic. She felt her body almost sigh with relief.

  George looked at her sideways. ‘Asking the God you don’t believe in, you mean?’

  Jeanie smiled. ‘OK. But you would have done the same. It’s a natural instinct.’

  ‘Yes, but He’d have listened to me, I go to church.’ He smirked smugly and they both laughed.

  ‘Not much, you don’t.’

  And the laugh turned into more laughter, and in the end tears poured down her face as she gasped for air, clutching to her mouth the napkin George had so carefully placed by the cutlery, all the tension of the day washed away in the shared hilarity.

  As she lay in bed that night, all she could see was her granddaughter’s solemn brown eyes, huge and bewildered in her little face, as she lay on the hospital sheet. Nothing in the world could be more important than Ellie’s safety and happiness.

  15

  Ray called her the following morning as she walked down the hill to the hospital.

  ‘How is she?’

  ‘I spoke to Chanty an hour ago and she’s fine, by the sound of it. I’m just going down there now to give her a break. Not much appetite, and very sleepy, Chanty says, but that’s to be expected with head trauma. Chanty sounded much happier.’

  ‘Thank God . . . By the way, I love the thought of you as a nurse.’ She could hear a roguish chuckle.

  ‘Is it the black stockings? And they were stockings in those days,’ she laughed.

  ‘Ooooh, don’t get me going. You must’ve driven your patients wild.’

  ‘Thanks for the vote of confidence, but the majority were under ten. Remember I said I was at Great Ormond Street?’

  ‘Still . . .’

  ‘Ray.’ Jeanie cut through the joke. ‘I think Chanty knows . . . or at least suspects . . . about us.’

  ‘Why, what did she say?’

  ‘She didn’t say anything, but Alex ‘fessed up about you not being a child-molester after all. He’d been “misunderstood” apparently. This was after he’d mentioned that you’d warned him about Ellie and he’d refused to listen. It was serious Show Time . . .’

  She heard Ray whistle. ‘God. How did your daughter take that?’

  ‘You can imagine.’

  ‘At least he’s told the truth at last.’

  ‘Anyway, your name was very much on everyone’s tongue, and there was this moment when she just looked at me . . .’r />
  ‘You might be being paranoid. It wasn’t exactly an easy day.’ She heard him sigh. ‘Jeanie, don’t say more than you have to if she challenges you. You know, “never apologize, never explain”; it’s a tried and tested motto, believe me. No one has any proof. And we haven’t exactly, well, done the dirty deed . . . yet.’

  ‘I can’t lie to my daughter, Ray,’ Jeanie said, ignoring the last part of his sentence.

  ‘You have lied already . . . as good as.’

  The baldness of his statement, despite being essentially true, was shocking to Jeanie.

  ‘But if she asks?’

  ‘With all that’s gone on, she’s hardly going to be in the mood to find out that . . . that we’ve been seeing each other.’

  His sentence tailed off, and she understood why. There was no neat way of describing what was between them without resorting to labels that put their moments together under uncomfortable, slightly hysterical headings such as ‘affair’, ‘unfaithful’, ‘cheating’, ‘in love’ . . . And, of course, ‘love’. None of which, and all of which, could apply.

  ‘So how did it end with Alex?’ Ray hurried on.

  ‘He was sent packing. Stupid of him to tell her about you then, because Chanty had almost forgiven him for leaving Ellie. But boy, does he know how to manage her.’ She paused, a passing bus drowning out her words. ‘I suppose he felt hideously guilty. No matter, I’m sure she’ll forgive him; she always does, no matter how heinous his crime.’

  ‘And you too?’

  There was silence.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve quite Alex’s knack.’

  She shared his unspoken fear that a revelation would spell the end.

  ‘It isn’t her business. But unfortunately she won’t see it that way.’

  ‘OK . . . well, let me know how it goes.’

  ‘I will.’

  They both lingered in silence at either end of the line.

  ‘Jeanie?’ He said no more, he didn’t have to.

  ‘Bye, Ray.’

  Her daughter looked worn and tired, much worse than Ellie, who seemed almost back to normal, despite the hectic flush on her cheeks, which Jeanie thought was as much to do with the baking, airless atmosphere of the ward as with anything more sinister.