The School Gates

by Nicola May

  ‘So,’ Mo started. ‘You’re a week early – and how on earth did you know I’d be here?’

  ‘Questions, questions already, Mother,’ Charlie teased, squeezing her hand. ‘I tried the house and there was no answer, so I thought I’d grab a sandwich and then try the surgery and here you both are.’

  Ffion giggled and fiddled with her hair.

  ‘So have you finished work for Christmas then?’ Mo wondered.

  ‘I’ve been made redundant. Recession and all that,’ Charlie lied, knowing he couldn’t possibly tell his mum that the design company he had worked for had got sick of his lateness due to his constant partying.

  ‘Oh, darling, what are you going to do? You loved that job.’

  ‘Well, sorry to spring this on you before Christmas and all that, but I was hoping maybe I could stay with you until I get myself sorted out again.’

  Ffion wished at that moment she could eradicate her flatmate.

  Mo, thinking the same about her husband, tried not to panic.

  ‘Phew, that’s a surprise. I’m not quite sure where we’ll squeeze you in, but we will.’ She felt a surge of love for her firstborn. ‘In fact, I’ve just had a really good idea.’

  ‘Take it easy, take it easy, take it nice and slow.’ Gordon danced around the kitchen singing as the girls blasted out their Mama Mia CD.

  ‘Breakfarst,’ he shouted loudly, adjusting his felt Santa’s hat. He had taken two whole weeks off over the Christmas holidays so that he could give his girls his full attention. Inga was staying with a friend in London for a couple of days.

  ‘You sound so posh,’ Lily commented as she sat down at the kitchen table.

  ‘Well, your mummy didn’t want you picking up my Canadian accent.’

  ‘Oh. I thought it was American like on School’s Out and that’s cool,’ Lola inputted, screwing her face up in confusion.

  ‘Yes, talk like Hannah Montana, she’s awesome.’ Lily pushed up her glasses and tucked into her cereal and fruit. ‘Mummy would be pleased we’ve got one of our five a day,’ she added, pushing around the strawberries on her cereal. Tears pricked Gordon’s eyes. It was so sweet that they had taken in all of her wishes.

  ‘But she wouldn’t want you to be lonely without Chris. He’s been gone ages, Daddy Gordy – when is he coming home?’ Lola asked.

  Gordon was dreading this question. He had been hiding the now-dwindling postcards, hoping that he could wean the girls off of Chris’s memory slowly. It also hurt him greatly to wonder what his beloved ex was up to, and he really hoped that he hadn’t met anyone else yet. In a way, he was also glad that contact was getting less so at least then he could start to properly get over him too.

  ‘Now, girls, I know this is very sad, but I think Chris will be gone for a long time. He’s having lots of fun around the world.’

  ‘So he won’t be here for Christmas then?’ Lola asked innocently.

  ‘No, darling, but Inga will. We shall have a really good party.’

  ‘Yeah!’ Lily shouted. ‘We can play the trumpet straw game.’

  ‘Yeah!’ Lola joined in.

  ‘I’ve got a new friend I want you to meet soon,’ Gordon said tentatively.

  ‘What’s their name?’ Lola asked, spilling milk down her front as she tipped her cereal bowl up.

  ‘Robbie.’

  ‘Oh, a gay boyfriend, you mean,’ Lily said, far too

  knowing for her six years, then, without waiting for an answer: ‘Come on, Loles, let’s go and practise our dance routine.’

  Gordon shook his head and smiled. Since seeing Robbie

  the other night he had found himself checking his phone for messages far more often than usual. Chris was obviously not coming back and it was about time he had some fun. He only wished that he had taken Robbie’s number, and then he wouldn’t have to play the waiting game.

  Ron Collins scrabbled pathetically on the kitchen floor, trying to get up from the punch his stepson had just thrown at his left cheek. When he did manage to heave himself to his feet, Charlie punched him again. Blood was pouring from the drunk’s mouth.

  ‘That one was for Rosie!’ Charlie was shaking with anger.

  ‘My God, Charlie, what are you doing?’ Mo arrived home and rushed to her husband’s side. He was now slumped face down over the kitchen table, blood forming a pool on the surface. ‘Ron, Ron, talk to me.’

  Ron groaned in pain and fell to the floor. Sick was pouring from his mouth. The Christmas tree was on the carpet in the lounge. Mo was hysterical.

  ‘Call an ambulance, Charlie! Call an ambulance now.’

  Charlie was calm. ‘No, Mum, he’s far too wicked to die. Let him suffer down there for a bit.’

  ‘He’s ill,’ Mo wailed.

  ‘He’s an abusive alcoholic shit, and I will not have him treat you or Rosie badly any more.’

  ‘We’ve got to help him,’ Mo pleaded. ‘You’re no better than him for doing this.’

  ‘He’s got to help himself first,’ Charlie said coldly and walked out of the house.

  The stench of beer-laden vomit was revolting. Thanking God that she had just dropped Rosie at Joan’s for her customary Friday-night sleepover, Mo rang the emergency surgery number.

  ‘Oh Mo, I wish you’d have told me things were this bad,’ Noah Anderson said as he sat at the kitchen table with her. Ron was now in bed, cleaned up and sleeping soundly after his strong dose of pain relief.

  ‘ “Hello, my name’s Mo and my husband’s an alcoholic”, that’s just not me,’ Mo said. ‘I’ve always managed.’

  ‘There’s a lot of help out there to be had for both you and Ron, you know. ’

  The doctor gently wiped a tear from Mo’s cheek with his finger, his tenderness causing her to sob loudly. He held her hand and patiently waited until she was ready to speak.

  ‘Right, on Monday morning we sit down and I get some numbers for you. You’re not alone in this now.’

  Mo bit her lip and nodded.

  After she had closed the front door behind her very own Christmas angel, she plonked herself down at the kitchen table. The heating had gone off and she shivered.

  In his raw state Charlie looked so like his real father. Very dark and brooding, opposed to the red hair and fair skin Rosie had inherited from Ron. Maybe now she owed it to her son to tell him that this excuse for a father was not really his, after all.

  She put her hands to her head. No, she couldn’t do it, not now, probably not ever. It wouldn’t be fair to open such a can of worms – and what if her precious son never talked to her again?

  She began to cry again for the mess that was her life. She was mortified that Dr Delicious had helped clean up her bloody and sick husband on her kitchen floor. She was sad that her son had had to hit his own father, who wasn’t his father at all. The only saving grace was that she could now see the light at the end of a long dark alcohol-induced tunnel. She didn’t need to cry for help; in his own way Charlie had done that for her – and for that she would be eternally grateful.

  Alana gently pulled a blanket up over Eliska as she slept soundly against the aeroplane window. Their trip to Lapland had been even more magical than she had expected. Just to see the look on her daughter’s face when they arrived was worth the extortionate amount of money the last-minute trip had cost her.

  Work had quietened down as it always did the week before Christmas, which was bittersweet. It was undoubtedly great to be able to focus on Eliska for once, but it gave her even more time to wonder what Stephen was up to.

  Before they had gone away, she had waited three whole days for a reply to her many messages. Rather than be her usual stubborn self, she decided to swallow her pride and pick up the phone. She made sure her number wouldn’t appear on his screen and was delighted to hear a ringing tone. But it was an overseas ringing tone, which was quickly cut off as soon as she said ‘hello.’

  Where was he? Why wouldn’t he take her calls? He had obviously been angry with her about her rea
ction to him knowing he was Eliska’s father, but Stephen was a kind man.

  Overtaken by a sudden rush of tiredness, Alana fell asleep, then awoke to the stewardess telling both her and Eliska to put on their seat belts for landing. Eliska opened her eyes sleepily and put her favourite teddy’s ear in her mouth.

  ‘Have a safe onward journey and Happy New Year,’ the Captain crooned over the Tannoy as the plane approached its landing station.

  How could it possibly be a happy new year, Alana thought – if Stephen McNair wasn’t going to be in it?

  – Spring Term –

  ‘Being a full-time mother is one of the highest paid jobs, since the payment is pure love.’

  Mildred B. VerMont

  – Chapter Twelve –

  ‘Oh yes. Harder, harder – just there.’

  A baby began to cry in the next room.

  ‘Damn. Don’t stop. Yesssss!!’

  Cissy was standing up in her cot, arms outstretched as her mum ran in, curly blonde hair in complete disarray, black silk nightdress around the wrong way.

  ‘Dad, dad, dad, dad,’ the little one shouted as Joan turned off the baby monitor.

  ‘Sshh now, darling. He’s at work. We’ll see him tonight,’ Joan soothed, feeling completed sated for the first time in ages as the back door banged shut below.

  Emily Pritchard – Head of PTA, Netball Coach and Mother of Joshua P, seven, chief swot and playground kisser – marched up the school path wiggling her bottom in her new bright red belted mac.

  ‘Didn’t realise you were expecting again?’ she greeted Mo who, flabbergasted by the comment, stood mute until Joan spoke for her.

  ‘For your information, Mo has recently lost a stone, and at least all of her is real woman.’ She then ushered her friend away, telling her to take deep breaths to stave away the tears.

  Gordon had overheard Preachy Knickers’ vicious comment and said to himself, ‘Never ask a woman if she’s pregnant unless you can see the head, I say.’

  Luckily Mo didn’t hear this either. Joan, who did, stifled a guffaw.

  ‘I’ve eaten so much over Christmas – it’s the stress of everything,’ Mo grumbled.

  ‘I know, I know. She’s just a bitch, Mo. We’ll get back on track now the kids are back at school,’ Joan sympathised.

  ‘Yes, we must.’ Mo tried to regain positivity. ‘I feel awful as well, as with everything going on I haven’t even asked you how Charlie’s been behaving, living in your caravan. I hope he’s not too much trouble.’

  ‘Trubble, shrubble. Mo, it’s a pleasure having him. I just have to make sure he’s kept warm in this weather, that’s all.’ Joan smiled and blushed. ‘Now come on, let’s say goodbye to those little darlings of ours.’

  ‘Oh Gawd, yes, look at the time. Ron is actually venturing out to the surgery for a check-up and I’d better be there when he arrives.’

  Feeling as grey and dull as the January day upon them, Alana pulled up at the school gates. She was due to go back to work today, but had awoken feeling really sick, so thought it might be safer to work from home. This obviously delighted Eliska, as she knew that ‘a silly old tummy bug’ wouldn’t stop her mummy taking her to school.

  The little redhead loved the clicking sound her new school shoes made on the concrete and she ran straight up to the twins to show them. Alana smiled as she waved goodbye, then turned to her BlackBerry. Robbie had said that he might be free for the spring term, so she must get in and book him early.

  Wishing Gordon a Happy New Year as he walked back to his Mini, she likened him to Stephen – smart, upright and debonair. Kind as well, she thought. It had taken her years to realise it, but she’d swap kind for flash any day.

  Dana and Mark pulled up in their silver 4 x 4, and an excited Tommy shot out of the back door and up the drive. Mark swiftly followed.

  ‘Run! He’s going to be late,’ Dana shouted after her husband, noticing Alana as she got into her car.

  Dana thought that she looked even sadder than usual and made a New Year’s resolution that she must try and make more of an effort to befriend some of the mums at the school gates. You didn’t always know what went on behind closed doors and it must be tough for Alana without a man around.

  Also, with the chance of a new addition on the horizon, she too would need all the help she could get. She smiled to herself at the thought of a lovely new little bundle of joy in her arms.

  Dana looked around her in the waiting room of the expensive London clinic. She found it hard to believe that so many other women were thinking of going through IVF. There were ladies of all ages, all nationalities, all with the slight sadness that childlessness brings.

  What Mark found hard to believe was that with the money it was costing him, they actually had to wait to be seen. The view of the Thames and comfy seats did nothing to compensate for his brewing anger and Dana had to shush him as he started his own private rant.

  Today was the day to pick up the all-important drugs that would stimulate her ovaries to produce the eggs that were to be eventually fertilised by Mark’s sperm.

  ‘I hope they give me some decent porn to wank off to,’ Mark said far too loudly in to his wife’s ear. ‘In fact, for this bloody price I expect a live lap-dance.’

  ‘Mark!’ Dana couldn’t believe her husband was making such a show in public.

  ‘They actually give you a blow-up doll, I think,’ Dana jested, knowing that underneath all the bravado Mark was actually really quite nervous about his whole performance bit.

  ‘That’s not for a couple of weeks anyway,’ Dana encouraged. ‘Once the eggs are ready and removed.’

  ‘It’s all so bloody clinical! Are you sure this is what you want?’

  Dana’s face fell and Mark grabbed her hand. ‘I’m sorry, darling; it just seems a weird way of creating a little life, that’s all.’

  ‘Mr and Mrs Knight?’ A chic young nurse came into the waiting room.

  ‘Well, maybe things aren’t so bad,’ Mark whispered to Dana, who pinched his hand as they made their way to the consultant’s room.

  ‘Happy New Year, bellamissima signorella,’ Tony sang as Dana walked into Rosco’s.

  She giggled. ‘What on earth have you been putting in that espresso, eh?’

  ‘Just pleased to see my favourite waitress, that’s all. We both missed you, didn’t we, bruv?’

  Bruno blew her a kiss, and then turned back to the coffee machine. The LWL were back in full force, gabbling like a flock of parakeets as they compared the gifts of jewellery they had received for Christmas. Fur coats and cashmere scarves were piled high on the hat-stand as it was a bitterly cold morning.

  Dana was pleased that the Christmas break had come when it had. She hoped that it had dampened Tony’s ardour and also her own feelings that she had found oh so difficult to keep under control.

  She realised that it would be impossible to go through her whole life not fancying other people, but she did love Mark, and her urge to have another baby was so strong that she would never allow anything to get in the way of achieving her dream.

  Two hours passed before Tony and Dana had time for one of their customary short breaks. Dana sighed and lay back in the chair in the kitchen, kicked off her shoes and rubbed her throbbing feet.

  ‘You OK?’ Tony brushed her cheek with his hand.

  ‘Phew, yes.’ She put her hand to her face. ‘I’ve just started IVF treatment and the drugs are making me a little more tired than usual.’ Deep down she knew this was something she shouldn’t really be telling an employer, but it was Tony, so it somehow felt right.

  ‘Would you prefer to work less hours?’ he said immediately, her welfare uppermost in his mind. ‘It’s a long time to be on your feet with all that going on in that lovely little body of yours.’

  ‘No, don’t be silly. I’m only here three days anyway. I’ll be fine.’

  ‘Well, you must promise that if you want to take some time out, you will tell me.’

  ‘Thank
s, Dad,’ Dana laughed. ‘But joking aside, I may have to take you up on that when I’m pregnant.’

  ‘When will you know?’

  ‘In around five to six weeks. I will have to take a day or two off when the eggs are collected at the hospital, but hopefully it will fall on my days off anyway, but that’s it.’

  ‘It’s quite weird knowing exactly when you will fall pregnant, don’t you think?’ Tony asked, not in the least bit phased by talking about such a personal issue.

  ‘I hadn’t really thought about it, to be honest. I just feel SO excited to think that this time next year, I will hopefully have another little person to call me Mama.’

  Dana finished off her herbal tea. She had decided to avoid all caffeine or alcohol during the treatment – anything to help it on its way. She bent to put her shoes on and straightened her skirt. Tony watched her as she did this.

  ‘Dana?’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘I’m sorry about the – you know – the kiss thing.’

  Standing up, she faced him and put her hands to his cheeks.

  ‘Tony Rosco, the kiss thing, as you put it – was actually very flattering, and if I was in a different place then I would most definitely have not moved my face away.’

  The young Italian smiled widely.

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Really. Now, we’d better get out there and help that brother of yours before he starts throwing plates around.’

  Inga looked grey as she took a cup of tea in to Gordon.

  ‘What is it, chick? You look like someone has died.’

  ‘They have. It’s Mr Brown Nose. I just went to feed him and there he is, all legs in the air and stiff.’

  ‘Damn, they loved that bloody hamster; we’ll have to get them another one. Although, the stench of it,’ Gordon went on camply. ‘Can’t say I’m not a tinsy wincey bit relieved.’

  He jumped up out of bed, causing Inga to check out his buff body, covered only by a small pair of designer boxers. He had been working out a lot more since Chris had left.

  ‘Nice arse,’ she commented. Gordon immediately thought of the elusive Robbie.