‘Hello.’ I didn’t look up from my work.
‘How’s the family?’ he asked.
‘Fine.’
‘Right … good. Staffing levels okay? Not having too many cash differences?’
I considered these questions for a moment. ‘Yes and no.’ The truth was that I wasn’t sure. I had lost track a little over the previous weeks.
Whatever Roy was, he was no slouch and he had asked these questions for a reason. When he had gone I would make my own enquiries.
‘Right, better go. I’ll just go to the wee boy’s room before we head off.’ He left the office.
‘You okay, Andy?’ Sheila asked, after making sure that Roy was out of earshot.
‘Aye, fine.’ I met her eyes for as long as it took to blink.
‘You sure?’
‘Aye … aye. No problems.’
‘I should warn you –’ she craned her head to look down the corridor ‘– we got a complaint at Regional Office that you were coming in, stinking of drink and that you were leaving your work to junior staff.’
‘Has no one at Regional heard of delegation?’ I bristled.
‘Andy, I’m on your side.’ Sheila leaned towards me. ‘Remember, I’ve been there.’
These last five syllables were uttered quietly, conspiratorially. Could she know? How? I was hiding it, wasn’t I?
‘Don’t know what you’re on about,’ I said, more harshly than I intended, while checking that my tie was on straight.
‘Sorry. Just thought that I should warn you. Roy’s been sent down here to check up on you.’
‘Well it’s a waste of his fucking time then, isn’t it? Cos there’s nothing wrong.’
Sheila took a step back, her hands up, palms facing me.
‘What’s this?’ Roy re-entered the room. I caught the look of warning he flashed at Sheila.
‘Nothing,’ she said with a smile. ‘I was just asking Andy about the kids. I’d heard that Ryan was down with chicken pox, and Andy was just telling me that there was nothing wrong with him.’
‘Good, excellent,’ said Roy, seemingly satisfied with this explanation. ‘Terrible thing that for kids. Could be worse; mumps – now, that would get Dad where it hurts.’
‘Goodbye, Roy. Got to get on with this.’ I pointed at the sheets of paper in front of me.
As soon as they left the room, I buried my head in my hands. Shit. I thought I was keeping up appearances. Everyone must have known what a mess I was in. I always prided myself in keeping a tight team. The fact that I’d driven someone to complain about me made me burn with embarrassment. I would have to get my act together. But I couldn’t until I got some sleep.
Sleep. Sleep…
‘Andy, Andy.’ I was roughly awakened by Malcolm. ‘What the fuck are you up to? Sleep for elevenses?’
‘Eh … oh … Ryan had nightmares last night.’ I surprised myself with that one. I must have been sleeping for about an hour. ‘Took me ages to get him back to sleep.’
‘I just wanted you to sign this off. Safe Custody charges. I need your initials.’
‘Fine.’ I took the batch of slips from him and quickly initialled them all. There was quite a bundle of them and Malcolm stood before me quietly as I did as he asked.
‘Cheers, boss,’ he said as he left the room.
Better get your act together, Boyd, I told myself. Things had obviously gotten pretty bad if Roy Campbell was on the sniff for trouble.
Sleep was my obvious solution. I had to do whatever it took for Anna to let me get a good night’s sleep. Short meetings with various members of my staff were able to satisfy me that my rudderless ship was staying on course, thanks to the excellent team I had. But I could discover no clue as to who might have complained about me to Regional Office. The day slipped past quietly, with only a few menial tasks at hand. This afforded me the luxury of a few more cat-naps.
The boys greeted me at the door that night with their customary zeal, each trying to outdo the other. Pat easily reached me first, sending Ryan into a sulk.
‘There you go, son,’ I gathered him up with my left hand, Pat was perched on the right, ‘There’s plenty of room for you both.’
I looked for Anna, while acid threatened to scorch my gullet. For the boys’ sake I forced some gaiety into my voice. ‘Sweetheart, that’s me home.’
She appeared at the kitchen door wearing an apron over her jeans with her hair tied back from her face. She blew at a stray lock of hair that tickled her cheek.
‘Hi, honey. Tea’s nearly ready,’ she smiled. This was the first friendly sign I’d had for weeks. ‘Boys, give your Dad some peace,’ she said. ‘Give him a chance to get in the door.’
Although I was more than happy to have the boys climb all over me, I allowed Anna to shoo them away to their toys.
‘I’ll just get you a cup of tea while I give your steak another couple of minutes under the grill,’ she cooed.
A cup of tea? Steak? Anna’s mood swings had proven to be mercurial in the past, but this was beating all records. With some trepidation I held my hand out to accept a hot mug of tea. It was offered with a warm smile. I waited for hot liquid to scald my scalp. Instead, hot china filled my palm.
‘Thanks,’ I said.
‘Welcome.’
Emboldened by this gesture I asked, ‘Are … are we okay?’
‘Of course, hon.’ She leaned forward and kissed my forehead. I disguised my flinch. ‘But we do need to talk.’ Her eyes shone with affection. ‘As soon as the boys are in bed, okay?’
Nodding in agreement, I was temporarily bereft of speech at this turn of events. Anna wanted to talk. Usually anything out-with her comfort zone was added to the large heap under the carpet.
Pat protested that we were putting him to bed a little earlier than normal, but did as he was asked nonetheless.
‘Will you read me a story, Dad?’ He was going for the usual delay tactic.
‘Just a wee one, Pat.’ With my mind elsewhere, I raced through part of a tale of a boy and a dragon.
Soon I was downstairs and waiting for Anna to begin.
She sat beside me on the settee. Her small hands seemed to envelop my larger ones.
‘Things haven’t been too good between us recently and…’ Even such a small sentence was like magic. She still loved me. She still needed me.
‘Anna, it’s okay.’ I was almost down on my knees before her. Every muscle in my body sagging with relief. ‘It’s okay, sweetheart. It’s all my fault. If I wasn’t so obstinate … if I wasn’t so self-centred…’ With every word I brought myself down, with every sentence I accepted the burden of blame for every error in our relationship. While logic screamed that this was ludicrous, all I could think of was that Anna still loved me. She hadn’t actually said so yet, but the mouse that the man had become was nibbling greedily at the smallest morsel of reconciliation offered.
‘Don’t be so hard on yourself,’ Anna offered. ‘It’s not all your fault. You do drive me wild at times.’ She punctuated this statement by holding my cheek between finger and thumb and giving it a squeeze. ‘But I shouldn’t go off the rails like that.’ She gathered my head to her breast and I could feel the heat of her face through my scalp.
‘I do love you,’ she said. Letting me go she looked deep into my eyes. ‘Pals?’
If I’d been a dog, my tail would have been lustily sweeping the floor. I nodded.
‘Come on.’ She stood up. ‘Let’s go to bed. I’ve not had my big man for a while.’
After we made love, exhaustion threatened to pull me into a sleep from which I would never wake. I was on the rim of oblivion when Anna spoke.
‘Your mother called just before you got in from work.’
‘Mmmm.’
‘She said to say hello. She was full of questions. She asked how were the boys, how were you, how was I, what had we been up to. Hope you haven’t been saying anything to her.’
Several weeks passed in which peace reigned in the Boyd ho
usehold. Not one word spoken between us came pre-heated with anger. No gesture from Anna even hinted that she was struggling to contain herself. She was quite simply in a good mood.
This truce was evidenced by the carefree behaviour of Pat. Ryan was, of course, too young to take note of any difference, but Pat laughed louder, played harder and smiled much more than he had for months. I was able to charge my depleted ‘good-time’ battery up for the leaner times to come. Come they would. I was certain of it. Anna had shown too much evidence of lack of control for me to think that in just a matter of weeks she had changed. No, it would take much longer than this before I would let my guard down.
It was one of those late-summer days when nature attempts to make up for the cold weather ahead. Or perhaps she was trying to persuade us that winter would be delayed indefinitely. Whatever her intentions, the garden was a melée of colour and the sun was stout in the sky.
Tanned and smiling, the boys raced around me after a ball. Ryan could hardly run for giggling while Pat egged him on. No doubt he was hoping for a repeat of the previous evening. Ryan had become so excited he fertilised the plants in the border with his dinner.
‘Pat,’ I warned, ‘don’t get your brother so het up.’
‘Dad…’ I am always impressed by how long a child can make that one syllable last. ‘We’re just havin’ a laugh.’
‘I’ll just have a laugh, my boy.’ I picked him up and, holding him tight in my arms, ran round the garden. This of course pushed Ryan’s giggles to further heights. Pat joined him in mirth.
‘Daaaad.’ He stopped giggling to groan. ‘Make me stop, it’s sore.’
‘I’ll make you stop alright.’ I let him fall to the floor, bent over him, pulled his shirt up and blew raspberries on his stomach. While I was doing this Ryan, using my outstretched foot as a step, climbed onto my back.
‘Me, me, me,’ he chanted.
‘Happy to oblige.’ I pulled him off my back, lay him on top of Pat and went from one soft belly to the next, blowing laughing raspberries.
‘Careful, Andy.’ Anna’s head was leaning out of the kitchen window. ‘You know what happened last night.’
Ryan heard his Mum’s voice and scampered to the back door shouting, ‘Mummy, Mummy, Mummy.’ Anna had been away at the supermarket for the weekly shop. She had only recently stopped taking Ryan everywhere with her and he was taking it hard.
‘Dad.’ I was on my knees before Pat, tucking his shirt into his trousers. His eyes were on Ryan’s rapidly receding back. ‘Do you think my Mum is watching me?’
‘Of course she is, son.’
The question surprised me. Watching Pat over the last couple of years I had convinced myself that he had accepted Anna as his mother. With my hand resting on his shoulder I realised that I had seen exactly what I wanted to see.
‘Can I look at the photos of her again, Dad?’ He paused. ‘I don’t remember her face.’
‘C’mon. We’ll go up to the loft. Get out the photos.’
‘Yes!’ he squealed and ran into the house.
Under the harsh light of a bulb with no shade, Pat stared at one photograph in particular. It had been taken on our wedding day. Patricia was on her own and the photographer had snapped her unawares. I knew that off camera, I had been swapping insults with Jim, with Patricia as our audience of one. Whatever I was saying, Patricia’s face was vivid with joy. Her cheeks were pushed out by her smiling mouth into those dimples that I used to love so much.
After she died, I would look at this photograph and try to remember what I said to Jim that was so funny. For days I would sit with it in my cold hands and try to dive into the memory. I would come up gasping for air, remembering nothing.
I looked over at Pat. Infected by a moment that happened before he was even considered, he sported identical dimples to his mother’s.
‘Andy?’ Anna’s voice rose up the ladders. ‘What are you guys doing?’
‘Nothing, sweetheart. Do you want to join us?’
‘No way. The place is crawling with spiders.’ She sounded like a little girl. ‘How can you go up there?’ I heard the shiver in her voice.
‘Be down in a second.’
When her footsteps retreated down the stairs Pat tore his gaze from his mother’s face.
‘Dad, I saw Gran yesterday.’
‘Oh.’
‘She came to see me at school. She was waiting outside at playtime.’
‘That was nice.’ Inwardly, I groaned. How could I have allowed things to deteriorate to such an extent that my mother felt she had to sneak a visit with her grandson.
‘How come we don’t see her as much?’ he asked.
Startled by his question I could only mumble a weak reply and hope that he would be satisfied with it. ‘Dad’s just been too busy recently. I’ve had a lot of things to do.’
‘Like what?’
‘Oh, this and that. Do you miss her?’ Guilt forced the last four words from my mouth. I needed evidence of how I had let my son down.
‘Well, she is nice, and she did bring me some sweets.’ A typical Scotsman in the making, he avoided the admission of emotion. Or is that typical of all males?
‘Don’t worry, Pat.’ I reached over and squeezed his knee. ‘We’ll meet up with Gran soon.’ Concern over how Anna would react to this led me to modify this assertion. I whispered, ‘But we’ll just make it our little secret.’
That evening passed without event. The boys were tired after their day of play in the sun, Pat was a happy little boy after his time with me in the loft, and the pair of them submitted to bath- and bed-time with only a token protest. Anna and I had a couple of hours in front of the TV and then followed the boys’ example and went to bed at an early hour.
I woke some time later. Disorientated in the dark, my first instinct was that something was wrong. I sat up in bed and listened.
Anna’s breathing was slow and even beside me and there wasn’t the slightest noise from the boys’ room.
Just in case, I walked through to their room and peeked in. Both boys were fast asleep, each body a warm disarray of limbs, quilts tossed to the side. I felt a surge of love and sent them each a silent kiss.
Wondering what had disturbed me I walked on the balls of my feet down the stairs and into the kitchen. I opened the fridge, pulled out the milk and from the fridge’s light I located a glass and poured.
As I knocked back the cold drink, something snagged my attention. I looked out through the window. Was there someone out there? I bristled. Felt a surge of adrenalin. Then I closed the fridge door to help me see better in the darkness.
I moved closer to the window and stared.
And relaxed.
There was no one there. I turned and leaned against the sink to finish off my drink. An image of a shape thrust itself into my mind’s eye. It was there, indistinct in the weak light and strong shadow, but clearly human shaped. There by the boys’ swing.
Dropping the glass into the sink, I walked over to the kitchen door, unlocked it and stepped outside. My bare feet shrunk from the cold paving, but I ignored the chill and walked out into the garden.
‘Who’s there?’ I asked in a harsh whisper.
The night settled around me. The breeze stippled my skin. A car moved somewhere off to my right.
‘Who’s there?’
I heard something behind me.
I whipped round. Anna. She was coming out of the kitchen, pulling a dressing gown round her to ward off the cool night air.
‘What the hell are you doing, Andy?’
‘Thought I saw someone.’ I turned away from her and searched the shadows of our garden. I stepped over nearer the swing and viewed the garden from there.
Nothing.
‘Andy. What’s going on?’ Anna stayed by the door as if afraid to venture too far out into the dark.
I looked up at the house. At Anna, and then back at the house. My boys’ bedroom. Everything I cared about, right there. If anything happened to either
one of them, I didn’t know how I might cope.
My feet were cold in the damp of the grass. I moved. My right sole felt a different texture, something faintly warm. I lifted my foot up, balanced and picked at the something that had adhered to the pad under my big toe.
A cigarette stub.
Where the hell had that come from?
Anna reached me, looked around herself. ‘Come on in, Andy.’ She shivered. ‘It’s freezing.’
‘Someone was here,’ I said. ‘Look. A cigarette.’
We both looked at it. It was about an inch long and homemade. I gave it a sniff. I didn’t know what I was trying to decipher. I wouldn’t know tobacco from weed.
‘Look at you, the great detective,’ laughed Anna. ‘It’s nothing.’
‘So where did this come from?’ I demanded and held up the stub for her to see.
‘One of the girls was over this afternoon. Jean Given.’
I knew Jean. She was a part-time teller. Had twin boys around Ryan’s age.
‘I didn’t know Jean smoked.’
‘You don’t know everything,’ Anna said and held a hand on my arm. Then she stepped in towards me and leaned her head on my shoulder. I felt her laugh. ‘My hero.’ She moved back slightly and looked up into my eyes. ‘C’mon My Protector. Let’s get you back to bed.’
5
The next morning, while we were still in bed, I told Anna she needed a rest. She was surely due some time to herself, I said, and insisted that I do her a favour and take the boys out of her way on a Saturday morning, so she could have a long lie-in.
‘Thank you, honey,’ she replied, turned on her side to face me, pulled the quilt up to her chin and burrowed into her pillow. ‘That would be lovely.’
The cigarette stub we discovered during the night was still on my mind, but I decided against bringing it up. Besides, if she was sure it was Jean’s, why should I argue?
A Suitable Lie Page 17
