by Nicola May
‘The words “taste, own, of, medicine” and “his” spring to mind,’ Mo retorted. ‘Right, here’s little Miss Collins. Let’s go.’
Gordon screeched up to the school gates in his Mini. He hated being late but at least he had managed to get three loads of washing done and had a boot full of groceries. He ran up the path and straight into Inga and Joshua P.
‘Love, love, love,’ he greeted his friend in a camp fashion. ‘Inga, just the girl. I really need to talk to you.’
‘Oh, Gordon, I’m in such a rush. I’ve got to get Joshua to his guitar lesson and as Emily doesn’t trust me with the car we have to do the walking very fast.’
‘Let me just get the girls. It’ll be a squeeze but I’ll give you a lift.’
Once Joshua P was safely ensconced at his guitar lesson, Gordon and Inga stood side by side pushing the twins on the park swings. The girls squealed with delight, the higher they went.
‘So, what is it you want to talk to me about?’ Inga asked innocently.
‘How do you fancy living in a three-bedroom penthouse with one very handsome man?’
Inga laughed. ‘And let me guess – two very pretty little girls?’
‘You’re a genius,’ Gordon mocked.
‘Can’t believe it’s taken you so long,’ Inga quipped, then slowed down her pushing, much to Lily’s displeasure. ‘I could see you needed help,’ she added. ‘But I felt I had to wait for you to come to me first.’
The girls leaped off the swings and ran towards the climbing frame.
‘So, what do you think?’ Gordon asked her. ‘The girls are happy in their bunk beds so you could make the spare room your own. I don’t see you as a conventional au pair, so how about you treat it as renting a room from me, we liaise on my shifts, and as long as you are around for those, I’m flexible with what you do with any other spare time. Well, aside from helping out with a bit of shopping, cleaning and ironing and cooking the girls’ meals when I am at work.’
‘Gordon Summers, I think you were sent from heaven, that’s what I think. It’s perfect. It gives me time to have my own life too. To be honest I wanted a change, but if you can give me the freedom to do some different things then it’s perfect. Thank you.’
‘I haven’t discussed it with the girls yet but I know they adore you. I’ll talk to them over dinner. I just need to get a key cut and then if you want to, you can move in tomorrow?’
‘Sounds like a deal to me.’ Inga put her arm loosely round him as they made their way to the climbing frame.
For the first time in weeks, sleep came easy for both the young Polish girl and Gordon Summers.
Eliska pushed her nose against the train window, noticing the scenery change from fields to skyscrapers. It was Saturday lunchtime and the train was packed with Christmas shoppers and revellers.
‘Mummy, look at that big wheel!’ the little girl shrieked, catching sight of the London Eye as they approached Waterloo station. ‘Can we go on it?’
Alana with her fear of heights couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘We’ll see, darling,’ she prevaricated, and Eliska pouted. ‘I thought we should go on an open-top bus first, see all the twinkly lights and then do some present shopping.’
‘Awesome!’ Eliska was easily appeased.
They bagged seats on the top deck right at the front. It was a sunny winter’s day but they were glad of their warm scarves and woolly tights as there was a cold nip in the air.
Eliska was kept amused spotting all the landmarks they had studied in a recent project at school.
The bus brakes squeaked as they pulled up outside the Tower of London. A young couple got on with their daughter. The bus set off again.
‘Mummy?’ Eliska looked up to Alana.
‘Yes, darling?’
‘When are you going to find me a new daddy?’
Alana cringed inwardly. ‘When I’m not so busy.’
‘But you’re always busy, Mummy. I hate it that you have to work so much.’
‘Oh, Lissy darling, it won’t always be like that.’ Diversion tactics were required. ‘Quick, look at that big boat on the river.’
The day flew by in a whirlwind of bus stops, food treats and clothes shops and in no time at all they were back at Waterloo station, laden with bags.
It was whilst they were queuing for a promised doughnut for Eliska to eat on the way home that Alana saw him, in fact saw them.
She could feel herself burning from her toes to her scalp, but it was too late to hide, as Stephen was waving. She was certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted to get a proper look at Eliska, he too would have scurried in the opposite direction.
‘Hi, Alana, and this must be little Eliska?’
Alana was mute. Stephen talked for both of them.
‘This is my wife, Susan.’ Susan smiled politely as her husband introduced them. ‘This is Alana Murray and her daughter. Alana heads up PR at Langston and Smithdrake, a major client of mine.’
Alana pulled herself together, looked down at Susan in her wheelchair, smiled and shook her hand gently.
‘What beautiful red hair.’ Susan was now looking intently at Eliska.
Alana thought she was going to be sick and began to gabble.
‘Right, good to meet you, Susan. See you at the Christmas party, Stephen. Must run, our train’s about to leave.’
‘But Mum, my doughnut,’ Eliska wailed as Alana dragged her as fast as she could across the concourse.
‘I think Colin is having an affair.’ Joan let out a plume of white breath into the freezing December air as she and Mo power – walked around the park, wearing matching bobble hats with miner-type headlamps attached.
Mo screwed her face up. ‘There is more likelihood of me fitting into a size 10 dress by Christmas than Colin ever having an affair. He so obviously adores you. ’
‘Really?’ Joan questioned.
‘Really, really, really,’ Mo emphasised. ‘And anyway, why on earth do you think that?’
‘Well, he always seems to be working late and even sometimes on a Friday, and he’s never worked late on a Friday in his life. He always used to look at it as a family night.’
‘Have you spoken to him about it?’
‘He just brushes it off, saying he’s busy catching up with work.’
‘Are you still shagging?’ Mo added.
‘Not much, but that’s because he says he’s too tired. Now I’m doing this exercise I’ve got so much extra energy. I want it all the time, so it’s very frustrating.’
‘Oh Joan, if he was dipping his wick elsewhere he wouldn’t be bothered to do it with you at all, now would he?’
‘I suppose not. Or maybe he would so I don’t suspect?’
‘You’ve said it yourself; he’s not exactly Colin Farrell, is he?’
‘More like Colin Barrell!’ Joan chortled.
‘Glad you said that and not me. I’d be a fine one to talk anyway,’ Mo added as they upped the pace to warm their cold bones.
‘I reckon you’re looking better already, though Mo.’
‘Yeah, only three dress sizes to go. It doesn’t quite sound so hard as saying three stone.’
‘Well, I’m very proud of you.’ Joan patted her friend’s arm chummily and said, ‘How’s Ron behaving, by the way?’
‘I’ve found that if I buy him six per cent lager, he’s asleep after three of them so I just throw a blanket over him and leave him to sleep downstairs. I have moments of feeling sorry for him but they soon pass.’
‘Oh Mo, that’s no way to live.’
‘I know, I know – but my escape fund is not large enough to make the break yet.’
Joan sensed her friend’s anguish and changed the subject swiftly. ‘Any word from Charlie?’
Mo smiled at the thought of her son.
‘He called me last night actually. He’s hoping he may come and see us at Christmas-time. The only thing is, if he sees how Ron behaves towards me, I’m not sure what will happen and
I don’t want to worry him – he’s working so hard at the moment.’
‘Bless you, Mo. Play it by ear. Ron might have stopped drinking by then.’
‘And pigs may be pulling Santa’s sleigh.’ Mo smirked. ‘Now come on, it’s too bloody cold out here, let’s go back to
yours for a cuppa and a mince pie – minus the pastry of course.’
‘How’s my bellissima blue-eyed waitress today then?’ Tony greeted Dana at the door of Rosco’s.
‘Tired actually. Tommy is having night terrors at the moment – wakes me up at least twice a night.’
‘Oh, cara mia, I shall make sure I fill you with plenty of espressos today then.’
‘I’d fill her with more than espressos if I had my way,’ Bruno commented in a low voice as Dana went to take her coat off in the back kitchen.
‘You’re filth, brother, you are.’
‘Oh, come on, Tone. She’s well fit. I know you would if you had the chance.’
‘She’s married, Bruno, and she has a kid – now just leave it, will you. Anyway, I thought you were shagging that pretty little Welshy from the doctors’ surgery?’
‘Yeah, but you know me, bruv, I’m a lurve machine. For some reason I want to fuck everything at the moment.’
Tony had to laugh. ‘You’re so wrong.’
‘Why, what’s he done now?’ Dana appeared tying her apron.
‘It would hurt your ears, Dana. I’m not even going there.’
As he spoke, the LWL brigade arrived. One of them clicked her fingers to get Dana’s attention. Dana chose to ignore her and went over to two decorators in their white splattered overalls instead.
‘I say!’ the plummy voice called out. ‘I do believe we were here first.’
‘Terribly sorry, I’ll be with you shortly.’ Dana smiled sweetly over. ‘Stuck-up cows,’ she mouthed to the decorators, who laughed out loud whilst taking in Dana’s pert breasts under her crisp black shirt.
‘Where are you from?’ asked the blonde leader of the LWL brigade, trying to make out Dana’s accent.
‘Lymington Avenue, up at the top of Bramwell Hill,’ Dana said innocently, knowing that would shut her up.
‘Oh, you live with a family up there, do you, dear?’
‘Yes, my husband and my son.’
She took their order and laughed to herself as they all tried to work out why on earth, if she owned a house in Lymington Avenue, she needed to be working in a café.
Between elevenses and lunch, there was a slight lull in service. Dana and Tony took their customary break in the back kitchen, whilst Bruno held the fort.
‘So, how are you enjoying working with us?’ Tony asked.
‘I simply love it. Just having the independence and more importantly my own money. I can’t tell you how happy that makes me.’
‘So are you going to tell your husband you are working here now?’
‘Not yet. It’s actually quite a thrill having this little secret.’
‘Do you have any other “little secrets” from him?’ Tony flirted.
‘No I don’t, you cheeky one.’ Dana took a mock swipe at his cheek. ‘As much as I go on about independence, I do love Mark very much; in fact, we are going to try for another baby.’
‘That’s lovely,’ Tony genuinely replied, although the
thought of trying for a baby with Dana caused his loins to stir.
‘I meant to ask you actually,’ Dana added. ‘I need to take the school holidays off. It will be too obvious to Mark and Tommy if I come in here.’
‘That’s fine. I expected that anyway,’ Tony said kindly, still trying to control his amour. ‘We may get a temp in, just so you know.’
The handsome Italian jumped up quickly, before he physically couldn’t.
‘Right, cara mia, let’s down these espressos and get back to it.’
‘Come on, Inga, let’s send Daddy a video of it from your phone.’ Lily pushed her red-framed glasses up her nose and ran round the flat excitedly.
Lola had already had to rush to the toilet as she had nearly wet herself laughing so hard.
‘I’m not sure your daddy will be too happy,’ the pretty Polish girl warned.
‘Go on, Inga, do it again. He’ll love it, I know he will,’ Lily urged.
‘Just one more time,’ Lola pleaded.
‘Oh all right then, you little monkeys.’
Inga lifted up her jumper, expertly placed the straw under her armpit, turned her head, put the other end in her mouth and blew hard. A gigantic fart noise blasted out from behind her shoulder. Minutes later, Gordon walked into the lounge to find both his daughters and Inga rolling around the floor of his flat laughing fit to burst.
‘Pray do share.’ Gordon put his rucksack down on to the armchair. It had been a tiring shift today as there had been a delay in Paris. It was such a relief for him to know that even if he was stuck somewhere, Inga would be at home and caring for the girls. His weariness waned with the elation of seeing his daughters so happy.
‘Daddy, look!’ Lily and Lola did an encore, and he too was reduced to hysterics.
‘Let me have a go.’ He grabbed a straw from the packet.
After an hour of perfecting the fart chorus of ‘Jingle Bells’ and with the girls tucked up in bed, Gordon crept down the hall into the lounge and handed Inga a glass of chilled white wine.
‘Sleeping?’ she asked quietly.
‘Like babies, bless them.’
‘They are such lovely kids, Gordon. Your sister would be so proud of you.’
‘Heh, don’t get me blubbing, you.’ Gordon lifted his glass. ‘Anyway, cheers, Inga.’
She lifted her glass. ‘Cheers.’
‘Whilst we are being sentimental,’ Gordon continued, ‘I don’t know what I would have done without you over the past few weeks. You really are a little star and the girls love you.’
‘Oh, shush. You’ve made my life so bearable. It really doesn’t feel like working, living here with you all.’
‘What? You mean I’m more easy-going than Alana Murray?’
Inga laughed. ‘Just a leetle bit. Mind you, now that I see her from a different perspective, I feel sorry for her in a funny sort of way. I think she works all the time as she is unhappy with her life.’
‘That’s the thing. People just don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, do they?’ Gordon chuckled. ‘I mean, look at us two – the rumour-mongers are going to be in overdrive, I reckon.’
‘Well let them talk, I say.’ Inga took a slurp of wine. She cosied herself against one of the big fluffy cream cushions on the sofa and told him, ‘I meant to ask you something, Gordon. Would you mind if I spent Christmas here? I haven’t really got enough money to go home this year. Be honest if you’d rather I didn’t.’
‘Don’t be silly. I’d love you to be here. It’s the first time in six years that I won’t be with Chris and it will help bridge the gap for the girls too.’
‘Have you heard from him?’ Inga asked gently.
‘Only via postcards to the girls. He’s certainly getting around a bit – he was in Sydney, last time we heard. I just hope it’s not confusing them. It’s definitely upsetting me.’
‘Darling Gordy.’ Inga went over and hugged him. ‘It won’t confuse the girls – they are used to you both being away. We shall make it the best Christmas ever for them anyway.’
‘Yes, we shall!’ Gordon said loudly draining his glass.
‘Will the rest of your family be OK with me being here?’
‘Mum is too sick to travel and the girls will head over to their late dad’s parents on Boxing Day anyway, so it’ll be fine, honestly. We shall get a big turkey and all the trimmings and we can always get the straws out again after dinner,’ Gordon grinned.
‘I’m excited already.’ Inga jumped up. ‘Right. I’d better tidy the kitchen.’
‘No, Inga. You’d better shut up and have another glass of wine.’
– Chapter Nine –
�
��Why didn’t you tell me your wife was in a wheelchair?’ Alana asked Stephen as they sat in the bar of the fashionable Central London hotel.
The SM Public Relations Christmas bash was in full swing and despite it only being two in the afternoon, the decibel level of revelling staff enjoying the free-flowing booze was already high.
‘What difference does it make? I’ve still been unfaithful to her.’
‘But it somehow seems worse.’ Alana took a sip of her gin and tonic and began to question him further.
‘What is...?’
‘Multiple Sclerosis,’ Stephen anticipated. ‘Her condition has deteriorated a lot quicker than we thought.’
‘Can you still – you know, do it?’ Alana continued her interrogation.
Stating out loud that he could no longer make love to his wife cut him like a knife. ‘No, it’s impossible now,’ he said quietly. ‘But you can understand why there is no way I would ever leave her.’
‘I’ll say it again, Stephen. I’ve never asked you to. We’ve had sex twice – big deal.’
‘Quite a big deal when a product of one of those encounters is a little human being,’ Stephen shouted.
Alana drained her glass and immediately ordered another
drink. ‘Let’s move over there.’ She pointed to a table in the corner of the bar.
‘So is she mine?’ Stephen asked, once they were settled away from prying ears.
Alana shifted in her seat. ‘I don’t know.’
‘What if I asked for a DNA test?’
‘You wouldn’t,’ Alana replied cockily.
‘I don’t need to. It’s glaringly obvious: she’s got my chin, my eyes, my hair – shall I go on?’
The alcohol caused Alana to drop her defences. ‘I don’t want your money, Stephen.’
‘You don’t want anything, that’s clear – but why didn’t you just tell me? I could have helped you, emotionally if nothing else. It must have been very hard, especially with your mum deserting you.’ Stephen was angry but did his best to retain his usual composure.
Alana softened slightly. ‘Stephen, you are such a lovely man. I knew that you weren’t a philanderer. I knew that you would want to help me – but I didn’t want to break up your marriage, especially as I was the one who encouraged you to my room that night. I’m strong. I knew I could cope.’
