The Way Barred

by Dominique Kyle

  “Do you wish you were driving?” I asked.

  “A bit,” he admitted. “But I’ve just been offered a good price for my F2, so that means I can think about getting a real car now.”

  “Oh, good, that’s helpful then,” I said encouragingly. I knew he felt he’d be more use to his family if he could ferry the kids around more, or his Mum to some of her appointments. Rob wandered casually over to greet me in his typical craggy featured loose limbed way. Since he’d said such nice things about me on the stage at the NEC I couldn’t dislike him anymore.

  Rob then glanced behind me. “Hi Tyler, how you doing? Going for gold again this year?”

  “Going for everything this year Rudd,” Tyler said cheerfully. “One of several silver linings of becoming reluctantly footloose and fancy free again after fifteen years.”

  “Yeah, it’s a complete bummer from my point of view,” I informed Rob. “Because at least he didn’t use to turn up to absolutely everything before so I had a bit of a chance sometimes.”

  Rob looked sideways at me. “Don’t undersell yourself, you seem to be doing alright as far as I can see.”

  “Yep, I’m having to watch my back these days,” Tyler said cheerfully.

  Rob started pulling his balaclava and driver’s gloves on so we left him to it.

  Knowing Rob was watching me put me on my mettle and I made a good showing, winning my heat and taking the Final off Tyler. He went on to win the Grand National but still, even in second place I had usefully doubled my points. Pete won his heat and was third in the Final, and third in the Grand National.

  At Chesterton I went to see Rob and Quinn again before the F1 world qualifier and then went up on the stands with Tyler to watch Rob’s race. Rob won it.

  “I reckon he might get the gold this year,” Tyler observed, “if he doesn’t mess up again.”

  We went to congratulate him after and I saw Rob looking between myself and Tyler with a curious expression. I bet Tyler’s giving himself away again, I thought.

  At our own world qualifier at Mendips Raceway near Bristol it was all out war between seventeen of the twenty or so Superstars and a sea of red roofs also. It ended up between Pete and Tyler and Tyler took it.

  On the way down to Smeatharpe in the car with Jo I got a text from Tyler. Where will you be parked up overnight?

  I asked Jo. “Tauntonish,” she told me.

  Do you want to spend the night with me? He asked.

  I talked to Jo about it.

  “I think you ought to hop out at the Bridgewater services and get in with him there,” Jo suggested. “Makes it fait accompli then doesn’t it?”

  I knew what she meant. I wouldn’t have to transfer into his van in front of Pete then.

  Tyler leant over and kissed me. “This is a bonus,” he said, clearly pleased with the solution. He then turned us off the M5 and drove me completely in the opposite direction from Taunton, drawing us up in a small fishing village on the coast.

  “Watchett,” he informed me with a smile. “Let’s go and look for a B and B shall we?”

  We found one eventually with a vacancy and booked in. Then he took me along to a restaurant and they reluctantly agreed to fit us in at nine after glowering a bit and reminding us this was Easter Sunday and they were chocka, and then he took me onto the beach for an evening walk. He held my hand as we walked along. “We should do this more often,” he said with a contented sigh. “We always seem to be having to see each other in front of other people. This actually seems normal for once!” He hugged me to him as we continued walking, and I thought, yes he’s right, we don’t normally get to touch each other except in bed.

  Pete seemed in a bad mood when I finally arrived at Smeatharpe Stadium in the old airfield. It meant that Tyler was for it. Pete went for him so viciously that I kept well back. Not getting between those two today I thought. Tyler would know perfectly well what this was about. And he was probably enjoying it. Finally Tyler got fed up and shoved him hard into the fence. Just as well it was the last race day of the four I thought. I tootled on by, minding my own business. Pete’s car started ok in the Grand National but a wheel had been bent too badly to corner properly and he had to withdraw onto the infield after three laps. I tootled on by again, minding my own business.

  “You were playing it really safe,” Jo commented to me as I hauled myself out.

  “Keeping out the way,” I said with a grimace.

  Paul was frowning at Pete. “Is it something about this stadium or what?” He directed sarcastically at him.

  Pete yanked his helmet off and pulled off his balaclava and gloves and threw them back down through the window of his car and stomped off, ostensibly to the toilets.

  Me and Jo exchanged glances and busied ourselves about the car, pretending to ignore him. Just as well we were travelling home separately, I thought.

  We were back at work two days, (still absolutely knackered from the weekend) and then Jo announced to me that she’d booked us the following afternoon off work to get me to Skeggie for their Thursday evening races.

  “You’re mental!” I exclaimed.

  “Do you want the Silver roof or not?” She said. “And Tyler won’t suspect you’re there so he won’t turn up looking for you and then get in your way on the track.”

  “Yeah,” I agreed. “I’ve shot myself in the foot there haven’t I? He’s going round everything in the hopes of seeing me and I just want the oval to myself!”

  So we went, and I had the satisfaction of seeing yet more points added to my total.

  So that left Friday which was work, and then Friday evening was taken up with work to repair the wear and tear done to the cars, and then we were off again. I could see why Tyler’s wife was divorcing him.

  What with Dad coming up to the Satterthwaites’ to induct me and Jo into the mysteries of welding, (it made more sense for us both to learn), it was some time before I finally docked in with Quinn back at the flat one night. “How’s your Mum?” I asked.

  “She’s started at a hospice now,” Quinn said, making an audible effort to keep his voice level and unemotional. “It’s partly run by Catholic order of nursing nuns, so she’s really happy with it. They’re giving her lots of support. She goes twice a week. They sort out her pain relief.”

  “Is she in lots of pain then?”

  He nodded miserably.

  “You need to spend lots of time with her,” I said urgently. “Tell her everything you want to before she dies. Tell her you love her.”

  “I feel silly,” he admitted, his head drooping.

  “Shall we go out there together?” I suggested.

  He nodded without looking at me.

  Kathleen was in bed in Quinn’s old room. If anything, she actually looked much better than when she was on chemo.

  When I told her that she smiled and said that anything was better than chemo, and she showed me a contraption strapped to her. “A syringe-driver,” she explained. “Intravenously administers morphine in small continuous doses. It’s like a miracle. I feel great and it sorts the pain out.”

  “How are the family coping?” I asked.

  “They’re just pretending,” she said.

  “What are you organising for after you die?” I asked.

  “Ginty!” Quinn’s tone was scandalised.

  Kathleen looked steadily at him. “We all know I’m dying Adam. We need to start talking about it.” She looked back at me. “I’ll be having a requiem mass. I’ve chosen all the hymns and readings. And then I’ll be buried up at the Civic Cemetery because our Catholic church has no burial grounds.”

  Quinn was shifting around uncomfortably.

  “And your Dad is going to look after Con, and Pauline is going to keep an eye on Declan. The mother of Liam’s best friend is going to look after Liam. Daisy is going to look after Adam, and Siân is going to look after Mariah.”

  “And who is going to look after Siân?” I asked concerned.

  Kathleen bit her l
ip. “It’s such a shame she messed up with poor Kes. He was a lovely boy. I was really made-up when they got together. She doesn’t seem to have hooked up with anyone since. Con will take care of her I think. It’s that father-daughter thing isn’t it?” She looked meaningfully at me.

  I felt a bit left out when she talked about Daisy looking after Quinn and Siân taking responsibility for Mariah. She seemed to guess. “And I know I can always count on you being in the background for Adam and Mariah, can’t I?”

  I smiled and nodded. There was a short silence. Quinn still didn’t make the move I knew he needed to.

  “Adam has some things to say to you but he doesn’t know how to say them, and doesn’t know how to start.” I said.

  “Ginty!” Quinn was curling up with embarrassment.

  I reached over to him, and put my hand inside his leather jacket. He made a move to stop me but I’d got Dubetskoi out before he’d grabbed my wrist.

  Kathleen watched on with a slight smile.

  “What’s that Dubetskoi?” I asked tipping my head to the bear that I was holding up to my ear. “Did you say that Adam loves his mother very much but doesn’t know how to tell her because he’s too macho and feels silly?” Dubetskoi nodded his head. “And did you say Dubetskoi that Adam would give anything for his mother not to die, but to be there at his wedding and see all his children getting born and to be there to squabble at every family Christmas till she’s ninety?” Dubetskoi nodded. “And did you say Dubetskoi that he’s really sorry for everything he’s ever done to upset her and disappoint her, and he’s really sorry he’s disappointed her because he can’t manage to follow her faith, because he’d love to please her by doing that, but he’s tried really hard, and he can’t.” Dubetskoi bowed his head sorrowfully. “But most of all Adam loves her very much and he wants to thank her for being such a loving mother and so proud of him all these years and rooting for him despite everything…”

  Quinn burst into tears. Put his head in his hands and sobbed wracking tearing sobs with his shoulders shaking. I handed Dubetskoi over to Kathleen who was looking lovingly at Quinn and holding her arms out to him, and I left the room.

  Downstairs Siân was on the sofa with Mariah and Declan watching some children’s cartoon.

  “How’s things?” I asked.

  She glowered at me. “Shite,” she summed up.

  I left and went back to the flat. Quinn didn’t return that night. Or for several nights. I guess he’d decided to sleep over at his parents for a bit.

  She died three weeks later at the Hospice. Con was there with her. None of the others. That night I walked into Quinn’s bedroom where he was lying in bed sobbing, with Daisy hugging him. I met Daisy’s eyes, seeking permission, then got into the other side of the bed and hugged him too. We spent all night together like that, the three of us. Quinn finally slept the sleep of exhaustion. He stayed off work until the funeral.

  The church was absolutely packed. There were lilies everywhere. The scent was overwhelming. The coffin was there at the front on a stand. It was smothered in wreaths. On top of the coffin was a huge heart made of pink roses saying ‘Mummy’ in the centre. The choir sang amazing classical pieces. People sobbed. John Holt, our local policeman, did one of the readings. Poor little Mariah, who someone had put down when she was wriggling, was toddling backwards and forwards. She tottered over to the flowers in front of the coffin and sat down in front of them, playing with them for a bit. Then she looked back at the emotion filled church and her face puckered up a bit. She pushed herself up and toddled her way back to stand in front of the front pew where all her family were. Her face was screwed up in a frown and she was searching each face in turn, and then she searched them all again. Then her face puckered up again.

  I walked out of my pew which was just behind the family’s, and went to Mariah and picked her up. Her face lit up and she put her arms around my neck. I walked over to the coffin, leaned over and plucked a pink rose out of the heart and tucked it into Mariah’s hairband. I picked a red gerbera as well that her little hands were reaching out to, put it into her small fist and then I walked out with her on my hip.

  Outside the sun was shining and it was beautifully quiet. The birds were singing. There was a statue of Mary in the grounds with steps around the base so we sat down there and she played with the red flower. She glanced up at me for a moment. “Mummy loves Mariah very much,” I told her with a tearful smile. She looked back down at the daisy, then started pulling some of the petals off. I felt a hand on my shoulder. Quinn sat down beside me. So we spent the rest of the service there, arms round each other just quietly cuddling Mariah.

  Some journalist must have taken a photo of us from over the low wall from the street, as a picture of that little grouping made it into the local newspaper. Mother of Thrills and Spills Star Dies after Long Brave Battle with Cancer. (Our local rag isn’t a great one for coming up with snappy headlines). I pressed the pink rose from the heart between two heavy books, and cut out the newspaper photo and article to keep with it. One day when she was older, I’d give them to Mariah.

  “Oh poor Quinn,” Tyler said immediately when he heard. “I must come in and give him a hug.”

  Quinn accepted the hug with equanimity.

  “My mother died when I was thirty, and that seemed far too young to lose her, but at least she’d reached sixty and seen her children grow up and met her grandchildren.” Tyler told him. “How old was your mother?”

  “Fourty four,” Quinn said with lowered eyes.

  “Mine was only thirty three,” I said sadly.

  “That’s younger than me,” Tyler exclaimed a bit shocked. “That is definitely far too young to die!”

  I thought about it. I was nineteen and a bit. That would mean that at my age she had less than fourteen years to go. I felt a bit panicky. I really must make the most of my life…

  “Where’s Dubetskoi?” I asked Quinn. I was wondering if I should go and get him for Quinn to hold.

  “With Mum,” Quinn told me.

  I frowned, not sure what he meant.

  “We all put something special in the coffin in with her,” he explained seeing my puzzlement. “Liam decided not to see her, so we took his and the little ones’ items along. We asked Declan what he wanted to give her and he chose his fire engine. We put a baby bottle of Mariah’s in because Mum was so gutted that she couldn’t breast feed her. Liam wrote her a letter to tell her how much he loved her which he made us promise not to read…”

  “And Siân?” I asked.

  “She put her first communion dress in.”

  “Was it ok, seeing your mother?” I asked hesitantly.

  He nodded. “It didn’t really feel like her though. She was all waxy. We kissed her but she was cold and hard. But it was ok. We weren’t with her when she died so we wanted to see her.”

  “Did you see your Mum?” I asked Tyler.

  He nodded. “Yes, it was like Quinn said. It was ok, she looked fine. I needed to see her. I was away driving at one of the Dutch stadiums when she had the stroke, so I didn’t feel like I’d had an opportunity to say good-bye.”

  I was desperate to finish this conversation. Suddenly I couldn’t bear it. “Ok Tyler, off we go then,” I said, getting up sharply from the table.

  He glanced at me, then followed my lead and stood up. “Ok. Bye Quinn.” He gave Quinn’s shoulder a brief squeeze and then he followed me out. He took me into his arms before we got in the van and kissed me, but he didn’t try to say anything. I was grateful to him for that.

  Ten days or so later Tyler rang to say he was over our way again tomorrow. I was in a bad mood. “I’m on my period right now,” I said sharply. “I don’t want to see you.”

  Quinn was sitting at the kitchen table looking at something on his phone. He glanced over at me. I didn’t bother moderating my tone. Tyler suggested that we meet up anyway, saying it didn’t always have to be about sex.

  “Yes but it will be won’t it?” I sna
pped. “You think you’ll be noble and not ask for anything but when it comes to it you’ll be hinting you want me to suck you off instead won’t you? That’s what you men are like! Don’t think I don’t know.”

  “Have I ever asked you to do that before?” He asked reasonably.

  “No,” I said abruptly. “But I haven’t ever been on my period before, have I?” And I pressed the off button to end the call.

  Quinn raised his eyebrows at me. “Was that poor Tyler?”

  I made a snarling noise.

  Quinn pulled a comic face at me. “Have you ever thought of raising money by becoming a dominatrix in your spare time?”

  I picked up a shoe and hurled it at him. He ducked expertly. “See what I mean?”

  I threw myself down on the settee.

  “Don’t be a grumpy cow to the poor man,” Quinn pleaded on Tyler’s behalf from behind me. He leant over the settee and put his arms around my neck. “If you don’t fancy being mauled, ask him to meet you for lunch instead, so there’s a table between you. But don’t make him feel miserable like this…”

  “Hmmph,” I made an inarticulate cross noise. But Quinn’s blandishments were getting through. I reached for my phone and rang Tyler back.

  “Hi there sweetheart,” he greeted me lovingly.

  I sniffed and said nothing for a moment. He waited.

  “Quinn says I’m being mean to you and should meet you for lunch.”

  “Oh my God, you mean you were saying all that stuff in front of Quinn?” Tyler exclaimed.

  I started to laugh at his tone of voice. “No secrets in this flat, Tyler, it’s too small.”

  “Hmm,” he said, sounding put out.

  “You could come to where I work just before lunch and meet the men there, they’d love to see you.”

  He sighed.

  “That or nothing,” I said snappishly.

  “Ok then,” he agreed.

  I was right. The men were really made-up to see him. He was the World Champion who’d they’d been following for a year via Thrills and Spills. They gave him a warm welcome, shook his hand, and offered him a brew. He accepted a cuppa and they gave him a tour of the place. As the boss of a similar small independent garage and local breakdown recovery service, he was interested in everything. He wandered off for a bit with Entwistle talking about business and I was beginning to think that he was never going to remember that he’d originally come to see me.