by Shari Low
Too late for that now.
My da punched the wall so hard he broke two bones in his fingers.
The rest of the night passed in a riot of recriminations and threats and tears. Eventually they left, taking Flora with them, and I slumped in the chair.
‘It was a mistake to tell him,’ I said, my voice heavy with sorrow.
‘Aye, it was, but you meant well, George. It’s a lesson. We’ll not be interfering in other people’s lives again. No good ever comes of it.’
She was only saying what I already knew.
Poor Flora’s troubles were far from over. It was a different time back then. It wasn’t right, but there was a stigma to being an unwed mother, and my da wasn’t having his daughter’s reputation ruined by a child out of wedlock. He took her to see another one of his clients, a doctor who ran one of those posh clinics in the city centre, and he arranged for Flora to terminate the pregnancy. Betty and I begged my mother and father not to make her do it, said we would raise the child as our own, but my da wouldn’t hear of it and Flora had no strength left to fight him. In the end, his wishes were carried out, as always, and Flora had the operation. The problem was, it didn’t go as it was supposed to. Something went wrong afterwards, some kind of infection, my ma said, and Flora ended up in the hospital for weeks. For a while it was touch and go, but she survived, though I wasn’t sure that she was happy about that. The doctors told her she would no longer be able to have her own children and it just about broke her.
I’ve no idea how long it took her to get over it, because it broke us, our family, too. I never forgave my father for not allowing us to adopt the child, and as always my ma took his side. Flora never forgave me for my part in it all and never spoke to me again, just as I remembered predicting in a letter I sent to Annie letting her know that I’d done as she suggested.
And Annie, she never came back. Too many wounds, too many lies. I didn’t blame her. Her letters stopped coming and mine were returned, saying not known at that address. I knew why. She was proud and she was embarrassed, and she’d decided to close the door on a father who disliked her, a mother who didn’t understand her and a sister who’d betrayed her. And me? Well, I figured I was a connection to that world that she didn’t want to think about. That was Annie. Uncompromising. Resolute. Stubborn. She’d rather forge a new life than deal with the disappointment of the one she left behind. I missed her terribly, but I understood her wanting to start over. I hope the new path she chose brought her happiness. She’d be eighty-four now, our Annie, a year younger than me, and Flora would be eighty-two. I’d give anything to see either of their faces again and I know there’s a good chance that they’ll already be on the other side. If they are, I just hope they’re waiting for me, with new found forgiveness for the mistakes that were made a lifetime ago.
The family rift left Betty and I on our own, and we made a different life for ourselves. Our Norry was born, and then later, he gave us Tom and my word, that boy was a blessing.
Sometimes I wish he could have known my sisters, but it wasn’t to be, and for what time I’ve got left on this earth, I’ll regret that.
I feel a touch to my cheek and I realise someone is there. A couple of seconds later, I hear Liv’s voice and realise it’s Tom who is by my side.
‘Tom, I thought I saw you come in. Everything okay?’
‘It’s fine,’ I hear him say. ‘His eyes were watering, so I was just drying his face.’
Silly old fool that I am, crying over ancient history at this time of my life. Nothing that can be done about it now.
‘If you need anything, just press your grandad’s buzzer. I put it in his hand earlier,’ Liv says, then I hear her soft steps as she leaves the room.
The boy is sitting next to me and I can tell from his breathing that he’s agitated. I wish so much that I could open my eyes, talk to him, but this damn body isn’t responding much any more. So tired. Just want to keep my eyes closed all the time.
‘Grandad…’ I can hear him though. Even that one word sounds stressed. ‘You’ll never believe who I just saw. At least, I think it was her. She had on that hat she used to wear before… before… It was Chrissie, Grandad. I’m sure it was her.’
A sound gets stuck in my throat and I wonder if he realises that my hand is suddenly clammy. A shroud of shame consumes me for the second time today.
Tom is still talking. ‘And the weird thing is, I just found out yesterday that my partner Davie – I know you never liked him – has arranged to meet her tonight. He found her. I never told you this, but I spent years looking for her, and he found her first. I want to kill him for not telling me. He once admitted he’d had a crush on her at school, but I thought he was joking, just trying to wind me up. I guess not. Thing is, I’ve seen him do stuff like this before, just get consumed with the thrill of the chase and go after someone and screw everyone else. Other guys’ wives and girlfriends. Married women. He can’t help himself. It’s like some kind of game with him. I just never thought he’d do it to me. Eight years we’ve been partners, since right out of university. I went all in with him in the business, risked everything – even your and Gran’s savings – and now he does this?’
I’ve never heard him speak so freely like this before. I guess confiding in someone who can’t answer is a lot easier than baring your soul to someone who can talk back. He is right about our savings though. What he didn’t say was that Betty and I had been happy to give him our nest egg because we had faith in him. And we were right. He paid back every penny with interest as soon as he started bringing in clients. And as for that arse Davie, if I were fit for it I’d quite happily wring his neck myself. What a scumbag to do that to his pal. Tom was right when he said I never did bloody like him. Just like that Declan one. Too smooth by half.
‘I just don’t understand and I don’t really know what to do for the best. I’ve found out where she works, so I’m thinking I’ll go there tomorrow. Or maybe wait until the shop closes and wait outside for her? She always hated a scene, so maybe that would be the best bet. Every chance I’ll get arrested for acting suspicious if I did that though.’ He is trying to joke but I can hear the strain in his voice. Oh son. I’m so sorry.
‘Thing is, Grandad, she probably won’t want to see me again and I wouldn’t blame her if she hates me. I just left her. She never wrote, never called, just cut off all contact and I deserved it. By the time I came back to find her, it was too late – she’d disappeared.’
I feel a cloth return to press against my face.
‘Your eyes are watering again, Grandad. Listen, I’ll tell you more about it later, but I need to shoot off to the airport to pick up Dad and Rosemary. Not looking forward to it, I don’t mind telling you. I really hope you’re not furious with me, Grandad. I know how you feel about them, but I felt I had to give them their place and the opportunity to make things right with you. That’s as far as it goes though. I’ll be civil, but I’m not interested in anything they’ve got to say. Christ, what a day, Grandad. Parents arriving. Davie going behind my back. Seeing Chrissie again. Strange thing is, that’s the only thing I really care about. I know it sounds crazy, but she’s the only person I ever loved. Aaargh, sorry, I’m rambling again. Right, I’m away.’ He leans over and kisses me on the cheek, as he always does now, and his affection warms me. ‘See you soon, Grandad. Have a good rest. I love you.’
I love you too, son, I think to myself. My heart breaks in two, both for the person he is now and the boy he was back then. I desperately want to tell him what I know. You see, I have two big regrets in my life. Interfering with our Flora’s situation, and then sitting back when I should have interfered in Tom’s life many years later.
It had been a freezing cold winter night, two or three months after Norry, Rosemary and Tom had left for Australia. Betty and I had just sat down to watch Morse when the doorbell rang.
No one ever visited at that time of night, so I got up to get it, figuring it was some of the neighbou
rhood kids playing chap door run away.
It was the red hat I recognised first. She’d worn it for years and it fair suited her.
‘Chrissie! Come on in, lass,’ I said.
Fifteen
Tom
If Tom was hoping that the drive out to the airport would clear his head, he was wrong. He was replaying that moment in the shopping centre over and over again. It was her. He was sure of it. Okay, he was perhaps ninety per cent sure. It was from a distance and there were dozens of people in between them. But that moment when their eyes met, he was certain he saw something. Recognition. Or maybe she was just some random stranger and he was hallucinating because seeing her on Davie’s computer was messing with his sleep deprived, stressed out mind.
This wasn’t how life was supposed to be. The mistakes that you made when you were eighteen weren’t supposed to change the whole course of your life. At that age, the biggest screw-ups he should have been making were drinking until he puked and developing a poker habit, not losing the love of his life and rendering himself incapable of holding down a decent relationship ever since.
Now he was the one cornering the market in tragic and pathetic.
The M8 motorway was fairly clear and he made good time all the way out of Glasgow, heading west to the airport junction. It was 3 p.m. now. Most people would be leaving their offices for the last time before Christmas, shift workers would be flying around picking up last minute presents, students would be travelling home to their families. Here he was, deliberating life changing decisions while on the way to pick up a father he hadn’t seen in over a decade, and a stepmother he vehemently disliked, while mourning the imminent loss of the man he loved more than any other. This Christmas definitely rated at the bottom of the festive scale.
His phone lit up and he checked the screen. Incoming call. Davie Bailey. The vein on the side of his clenched jaw began to thud. Yeah, definitely the worst Christmas ever.
His first instinct was to reject the call, but he wanted to give Davie the chance to come clean. Perhaps that was what he was calling about. Maybe there was some bigger plan in play here. For all he knew, Davie could be meeting with her to tell her about Tom. Yep, that could be it.
Tom pressed the green telephone button on the steering wheel to accept the call and immediately heard a groaning sound.
‘Christ, tell me this headache isn’t going to kill me,’ Davie moaned.
Fighting back fury, Tom tried to act normal. ‘I think there’s every chance that it will. Good night last night?’
‘Ah, mate, it was brutal. In a good way.’
‘So I heard. Carina from accounts? Think that’s you hooked up with someone in every department now.’ Tom couldn’t keep the irritation out of his voice. Some could look at Davie’s behaviour and say that it was a misconduct in the workplace lawsuit waiting to happen, but the thing was, he rarely made the first move. Nine times out of ten, it was one of the sharp suited, smart women that worked in the office who set their sights on a boss that aced charm school and looked like he’d wandered off the front cover of GQ. If only they realised sooner what a dick he actually was.
‘Eh, pot, kettle.’ Davie retorted. ‘Last time I checked, you were dating our head of sales.’
It was a struggle, but Tom tried not to get combative.
‘Past tense,’ Tom replied. ‘We decided to call it a day. And I’d just like to point out that Zoe is the only woman I’ve ever dated who works in the office and even then she made the first move.’
It was true. She’d cornered him after a late night strategy session back in the autumn and told him it was time he realised how much he liked her and took her out for a drink. They’d been together ever since. Until today.
Tom heard himself getting another dig in. ‘And I wasn’t seeing someone else at the time.’
‘Okay, okay. Man, this is like talking to my mother. Anyway, where are you? Wanna come by for a beer?’
‘Why. Something wrong?’
This was Davie’s chance to come clean.
He didn’t.
‘Nah, nothing at all. Just got nothing on this afternoon and gonna watch a bit of sport on the telly.’
Bastard. Tom struggled to keep the anger out of his voice. ‘Can’t. Picking up my dad at the airport. His flight’s due in any minute. Then we’ll head back over to the hospital so they can see Grandad.’
‘How’s the old man doing?’
That threw Tom, reminding him that there was a good guy in there somewhere, far beneath the insatiable libido and arteries that were undoubtedly sixty per cent vodka.
‘He’s holding on, but he’s not in good shape. I haven’t seen him awake for a couple of days now, though the nurses say he woke up for a few minutes last night. You should stop by and see him.’ He knew there was no way in hell Davie would agree to this, but he just wanted to hear him squirm his way out of it.
‘Think I’ll pass on that. Not because I’m a thoughtless dick, but because the old man always hated me. I didn’t take it personally but I don’t want mine to be the last voice he hears.’
‘Fair point,’ Tom agreed, ruefully. George had never taken to Davie. Always said he was too flash, and not to be trusted. Turns out he was right. Or maybe not. Tom still held out a glimmer of hope that he had this all wrong. He had to know. ‘So, what are you up to tonight then? You got another night on the town with a hot date?’
Only someone who knew Davie as well as Tom did would register the hesitation in his voice before he spoke. ‘Nah, having a quiet one in front of the telly tonight. Need to recover from last night and get my energy levels back up. Too old to be doing two in a row now.’
Tom felt his hands tighten around the wheel. The bastard. He wasn’t going to tell him.
Tom gave him one more chance. ‘That’s not like you. Friday night before Christmas and you’re staying in? What happened to the party animal?’
Tell me. Tell me. Tom willed him to do the right thing.
‘Party animal is having a night in with a few bottles of Bud and Sky Sports.’
Fucker. He wasn’t going to come clean.
Tom knew he had to get off the phone before he blurted out something he’d regret. ‘Okay, mate, you have a good one. I’ll speak to you later,’ he said through gritted teeth, before disconnecting the call.
Part of him already regretted not saying anything, but bringing it up on a phone call to a hungover man wasn’t the right time. This had to be done properly for two reasons – first, and it was only a tiny possibility, but perhaps Davie did have some ulterior motive and was planning to tell Chrissie that Tom was his partner and help bring them back together. And second, if that wasn’t the case, then this was a partnership ending betrayal and Tom would walk away from everything they’d built in a heartbeat. There was no way he could look at Davie’s smug, crowing face in the office every day if he was dating Chrissie. It was way beyond the realms of his tolerance. Also, stopping himself from killing him would be a new challenge to his days that he wasn’t sure he could conquer.
No, this had to be done with a cool, clear head, and in the right way. Today was already shaping up to be the most emotionally draining of the year, and that was before he picked up the new arrivals at the airport.
Davie’s voice echoed in his head. ‘Party animal is having a night in with a few bottles of Bud and Sky Sports.’
A lie. A blatant lie. Of course, there was another, very obvious course of action. He could go to the restaurant and confront them, just show up, give them a wave, say hi and see what happened. It would remove all possibilities of Davie denying or squirming out of what he’d done.
However, the last thing he needed today was Chrissie seeing him and telling him all the reasons she hated him. There was too much water under that bridge and it had to be navigated safely, with proper planning, caution and at exactly the right moment. Friday night in an Italian restaurant wasn’t it. If he was going to be ritually humiliated and shamed for the actions of his pa
st, he at least wanted it to be in a private environment with the fewest number of spectators possible.
He realised that he’d already come off the slip road and was on the one way system around the airport. He’d been on autopilot for the last twenty minutes. He pulled into the segregated lane for the car park and followed the signs all the way up until he found a space on the third floor.
He sat in the car for a moment, composing himself after what he’d just heard, and gathering the strength for the next challenge of the day: seeing his dad and stepmother.
When he finally felt his blood pressure was somewhere near normal, he walked over to the terminal building and bought a Starbucks latte, before making his way to international arrivals. It was like the opening scene from Love Actually, with a sparkly tree, festive music, and the waiting area packed with people looking happy as they waited in anticipation of their loved ones coming home for Christmas. He didn’t share their excitement. Instead, he checked the board and saw their flight had landed twenty minutes ago, but it would take them a while to get through customs and baggage reclaim. It was another ten minutes, during which he stood and silently seethed at the duplicity of his partner, before he spotted his dad’s face in the crowd coming through the doors.
His first reaction was that Norry didn’t look much older than when he’d seen him last. Maybe it was the dark tan, or the yellow polo shirt, or the baseball cap, but he gave off an air of health that probably came with living in a sunny environment, where his main focus in life was to play golf and keep himself fit, with no time for worrying about his son or his aging father. Australia clearly suited him. Tom’s gaze flicked left, to Rosemary, who was, as always, welded to his father’s side. Life in Oz was obviously treating her well too. Her ash blonde hair was pulled up into a sleek ponytail, her skin was tanned to a perfect shade of caramel, and despite the fact that it was December and she was indoors, she sported huge oversized sunglasses.
