‘We’ve been watching Usain Bolt in the 200 metres, sorry,’ she says, sitting down my side. ‘There’s just something about him that we don’t want to miss. There was David Rudisha before that in the 800. It’s been electric in the Olympic Stadium tonight. Did we miss much in here?’
‘Only a Churchill-like speech from me,’ I say, straightening the creases on my frock and trying not to break out into a smile. ‘And a call to arms from Gillian. I still can’t believe how many people turned up. It’s been overwhelming really…’
‘So the image of Donald worked then? It’s weird how people relate to a picture more than anything else.’
‘Maybe it did, but I think Gillian’s sheer will and determination persuaded more people to come out…’
‘Talking of pictures, do you remember that magazine journalist we met on the Tube? Well, he wants to come round on Sunday, with his photographer, and do an article on me and the Olympics in general.’
‘Thought you weren’t too keen on him?’
‘I’m not – but I am on the article. It’d help with my CV, help me get noticed. Might help me get a job.’
‘Is that how it works these days? Get your face on TV or magazines – and then you get a job?’
‘No,’ she says, with a smile. ‘There aren’t any around. But you have to get a profile, yes, a media profile is even better. So, will you let this man in your house if he comes around?’
‘I don’t know Jessica, it’s rather a big thing letting a journalist prowl round your house. If you’d been here earlier you’d have seen that things are still quite emotional for me.’
She puts her hand on my thigh. ‘Double sorry, I should have been here.’ She pauses and looks over her shoulder at William. ‘But I did have my hands full after a long shift and old Will Shakey Head there sitting on your doorstep. The shock almost made me walk on, thinking that I’d come to someone else’s house. He is serious though and he might travel back up to Yorkshire with us on Sunday night.’
‘With your parents?’
‘That’s what he wants.’
‘I think he’s getting carried away…’
She looks over her shoulder again and ushers William towards her with a wave of the hand.
‘I prefer men who get carried away than those who don’t,’ she says. ‘I seem to handle them better.’
William walks towards us – and sits down next to me. He finally takes his eyes away from the screen and looks at me.
‘Jess has got me hooked I’m afraid,’ he says, sheepishly putting the phone in his pocket. ‘Jade Jones in the Taekwondo tonight. I don’t even know what that event is.’
‘Nor do I? Jess?’
‘They get points for landing kicks and blows in the target areas.’ She smiles and looks at William. ‘Just like I did when I tried to kick you away from the doorstep.’
‘You won’t get rid of me that easy.’
His mobile rings – and Jessica shakes her head.
‘You better watch it or your mum’ll throw you out if that keeps ringing.’
‘Don’t care. I’m toast already.’
He gets up and walks away a few feet to answer the call. He then stops and turns, looking at me in horror as he speaks into the phone.
‘Yes, Dad I know,’ he says, speaking quite aggressively. ‘But what can I do about that? You have to sort it out with Mum. She’s here now; you can speak to her if you want.’
There’s another pause as William’s expression turns to one of deep concern.
‘You want to speak to Frannie? Why?’
William looks at me and shakes his head.
‘She is here but do you think it’s wise to speak to her now after what happened last time. It’s great that you haven’t been arrested but I think we all need a bit of calm and some time to think.’
‘He hasn’t been arrested,’ whispers Jessica to me. ‘Thank fuck for that.’
I tut as Jessica swears but quickly refocus on William’s conversation with his father. What on earth does Lawrence want to say to me now? He won’t speak to his wife but he wants to speak to me? If only he’d been here to see her drive everyone forward with her warmth and persistence. He might have even been proud of her.
‘Okay look Dad, I’m going to give Frannie the phone. I don’t know if she’ll speak to you or not…’
William walks towards me but I raise my hands.
‘Sorry Dad, she doesn’t want to speak to you right now. She’s had a heavy night. When are you coming home anyway? At least I can tell Mum so she doesn’t stay up all night for you.’
Another long pause as William digests the information.
‘No, I’m leaving this weekend Dad. That’s final. I’ve got a job and accommodation won’t be a problem. It’s nothing to do with Jessica at all. It’s my decision.’
I hope William will end the call quickly as I can see Gillian walking towards our seats from the front of the hall. She goes towards William first and kisses him on the cheek while he still speaks into the phone.
‘Who is it?’ asks Gillian, in a low voice, looking at Jessica and me.
‘Lawrence,’ I say.
Gillian raises her hand and walks off immediately towards the front of the hall again.
‘But he hasn’t been arrested,’ I say, a bit louder.
‘Tell me when their conversation is over,’ she says, not turning around and still with her hand in the air.
‘But he’s free, Gillian,’ I say, maintaining my loud pitch.
‘But I’m not. Tell William to come into the tea room after he’s finished talking. I’ll see him there…’
Gillian disappears through a small door at the side of the hall, the surrounding wall covered in plaques, calendars and framed paintings of village history. William ends the call a couple of minutes later – and sits down next to me again.
‘He’s very ashamed of what he did,’ says William. ‘It tore him up so much that he actually handed himself in. The police were going to drop the case anyway but he wanted to show how bad he felt about it, so he went there voluntarily.’
‘I said it was nothing all along,’ I say. ‘I’m not surprised the police won’t be taking it further but I am surprised that your father…’
‘What? Has a heart?’
‘Well, yes, that he’s gone to all that trouble to show that it was all a ghastly mistake. I think Donald’s got something to do with it, I really do. He misses him and probably thinks he’s tarnished his memory. That’s why he wants to say sorry too.’
‘I miss him too,’ says William. ‘Dad was a different person when he was around. So was I.’
I put my hand on William’s arm. ‘He’s still around, Will. He’s in this hall, he’s at home, he’s in the Olympic Park, he’s everywhere.’
‘Steady, Frannie,’ says Jessica. ‘They’ll make you head of the spiritualists convention if you keep talking like that.’
‘I don’t care, when I was up on that stage tonight, he was with me – cajoling me, inspiring me and teasing me – if that sounds mad then it’s a small price to pay to connect with so many more people. I see a future now because of that. This campaign means something to me now. I want to be part of it after the Olympics is over. I want to make a contribution.’
‘If only Dad could be so thoughtful…’ says William.
‘He will be again,’ I say, easing my hand towards William and holding it tight. ‘I’ll speak to him in my own time – and then I’m sure he’ll come round to the Lawrence I once knew.’
DAY FIFTEEN
I go to Waitrose in the morning to ensure I have enough fruit, drink and snacks for Sunday. Two people recognise me from last night’s meeting and stop to talk by the checkout till. They chat about the Olympics, the library campaign and Donald’s time in
the army. The conversation is rather intimate for this time in the morning but they are extremely enthusiastic so I offer up more than expected, including the time Donald got so angry his hero Dean Martin had appeared in The Cannonball Run movies that he nearly broke the TV with a coffee mug. I instantly regret telling that story but they enjoy it so much my guilt ebbs away with every snort and laugh. It seems that people are being more open than usual. I get home just before noon and start preparing lunch. I turn on Radio Three and think of the weekend: tomorrow is my last day in the Olympic Park and by Sunday it’ll all be over. What then? Yes, there is the library work but what else? Is that enough for me? How will I cope with an empty house again? Perhaps I could ask Jessica to stay for longer. I eat lunch and start the washing-up. The phone rings as I dry off the last plate. I quickly put the kettle on – and walk down the hallway to answer it.
‘Hiya Francesca? It’s Richard Krystal from the Met…’
‘Oh hello, how are you this morning?’
‘Decent because I’m back into the swing of things. My fourth shift now, so doing good after all that time off. Look that man you were asking about, I did ask around…’
‘You don’t need to worry,’ I said, interrupting him rather firmly. ‘He’s been released without charge. He actually handed himself in. I don’t think the police ever arrested him at all.’
‘…Which is exactly what I was about to say. Nice work, sleuth. How did you get that info? Do you know any other coppers?’
‘No, Lawrence actually called his son direct last night while we were at this public meeting. He told him everything that had happened. He was quite apologetic and he wanted to speak to me but I wasn’t really in the mood at that stage…’
‘Too right, you shouldn’t let him off the hook that easily. Aggressive males, particularly those fuelled up by liqueur, tend not to change their behaviour.’
‘That’s a bit reductive isn’t it?’
‘In my line of work, Francesca, it pays to be reductive. Respect, yes, but getting too close? No. You have to keep your distance or you’ll get your fingers burned.’
‘Not sure I want you at my house now…’
‘Course you do – and as it happens, I am free this Sunday and so is Melissa. Are we still invited then?’
‘I suppose you are – but you’re not going to spy on us are you?’
‘Melissa can do that. She works for the Government…’
‘Oh, what does she do?’
‘She’s a press officer for the Department for Transport. Getting a lot of heat about HS2 right now. That’s been big news in your county, hasn’t it?’
‘Yes, but I haven’t really been keeping up to be honest. Hope it doesn’t slice its way through the Chilterns though. We’ve got a lot of lovely countryside here.’
‘But it’ll create lots of jobs for people – and new businesses.’
‘Maybe it will but I’m sceptical. My husband did some work for the National Trust after he left the army so we’re a bit fond of our heritage, if you know what I mean.’
‘I am too but not at the expense of progress. But anyway look, I’m happy this Lawrence fella’s come to his senses and that unpleasant saga is now over. I’ve got to get on with investigating a criminal damage incident at a warehouse this morning so if we don’t talk again how about Melissa and I pop down to sleepy old Bucks at about two on Sunday? Pop us your address in an email and we’ll make sure we’ve got the best bottle of wine ready for your final shindig.’
‘Shindig? I’m beginning to think this is a terrible idea now…’
‘You won’t. We have to savour every single moment before it’s gone. This time last year, almost to the day, I was caught in the middle of a firestorm; a vortex of savagery I’ll never forget. I don’t think the scars of the riots will ever heal but this is another big step for me. A Londoner taking pride in his city again – and representing its true face to the world.’
The sound of the doorbell jolts me from my afternoon nap. I had been dreaming of William’s marriage with Jessica in a huge manor house in Yorkshire; Donald and I watching on as the young couple ride off on a horse for their honeymoon. It’s gone as soon as I put my feet in my slippers. I rush downstairs and open the door. I am shocked to see Lawrence in front of me; his rasping stare and restless eyes almost making me topple over. He has some kind of big album or scrapbook under his arm. He doesn’t say anything immediately which annoys me greatly. Is he drunk again? I try to play the same game – but fail after about 30 seconds of a terrifyingly uncomfortable silence. It’s like I’m the guest not the other way round. I think about shutting the door but instead offer a mild sigh and a tone of reconciliation.
‘I thought you’d be at work, Lawrence,’ I say, still holding the door quite tight as a precaution. ‘Did you get off early?’
‘Rang in sick this morning. They understood. Were you at Gillian’s meeting yesterday?’
‘Yes, we had a huge turnout. Why didn’t you go?’
‘You know the reason so why ask? Are you trying to humiliate me more than I already have been?’
‘No, but she was expecting you.’
‘She expects too much.’ He sighs and looks down at his scrapbook. ‘Can I come in then or not?’
‘I don’t know if you should Lawrence,’ I say, rubbing my eyes. ‘I’ve just had a nap. I’m not at my best.’
‘Don’t you want to look at these?’ he says, holding up the scrapbook.
‘What is it?’
‘An old treasure that I’d forgotten about. It’s made me think a lot over the last few days about how I’ve been behaving to those I love.’
‘Including me?’
‘Yes, you and Donald. Because I’ve interfered in the grieving process in such a shameful manner that I can’t look you in the eye again.’
‘You’re making a good job of it so far…’
‘I stare a lot when I’ve got a lot to be apologetic about. So can I come in? Why don’t you rest while I make you some coffee?’
‘Have you spoken to Gillian and William yet?’
‘Don’t need to. I know their intentions. Gillian is going ahead with the divorce and William wants to marry Jessica. One in, one out eh?’
‘I’m not sure they want to marry yet but I know what you mean. So you’re not going to stop William from moving up to Yorkshire with Jessica?’
‘I can try and stop it but whether he’ll listen is another matter.’
‘Maybe it’s because you haven’t been setting a good example…’
‘Maybe…’
I sigh again and ease my hand off the door.
‘I need a pledge that you are going to apologise to Jessica because you were much harder on her than you were on me.’
‘She’s a tough girl. I’m sure she doesn’t need any more words from me…’
‘Well, I’m afraid you can’t come in then…’
‘That’s not worthy of you, Francesca. Where is she anyway? Work?’
‘Yes, her penultimate day. My last day is tomorrow.’
‘I think you’ve both done a fine job.’ He looks away from me for the first time. ‘Makes me think my daily speculation on whether rival software companies are hot or not is a bit inadequate. You get the praise, we get indifference. I think I’m in the wrong job sometimes.’
‘Maybe you are but at least you make money…’
‘It’s not everything…’
I have never heard Lawrence talk like that before. He usually claimed he was ‘vital’ to the sustainability of Britain’s economy and that the country would fall apart if it wasn’t for people like him. Had he really changed or was he just trying to get back in my good books so he could influence William and Jessica?
‘How do I know if I let you in, you won’t get angry with me agai
n?’
‘I wasn’t angry with you, Francesca, it was more everything else, really: Jessica, William, Gillian, her dad, take your pick. Just give me this chance and you can boot me out if you don’t like what you hear. I can take it; I mean I spent yesterday being interviewed by this rough-looking police sergeant.’
‘You must apologise to Jessica…’
‘But I’ll have left by then…’
‘That’s the deal…’
He sighs and knocks on the scrapbook with his knuckles.
‘Of course, I’ll apologise to her,’ he says, after a long delay. ‘But that still doesn’t mean I want her as a future daughter-in-law…’
I nod and finally release the door from my sweaty hands.
* * *
Lawrence is sat at the garden table looking at the faded, hand-drawn wickets on our side wall. I place a bowl of blueberries, a plate of cookies and two cups of coffee – all neatly balanced on a large tray – onto the table. I ease the scrapbook out of the way, and eventually sit down opposite him. He doesn’t say anything for a long time – and then, as if he’s come out of a deep sleep or a trance, he turns to me and points at the wall.
‘Didn’t Donald paint them for William when he used to come round to play?’ he asks. ‘You can hardly see them now.’
Seventeen Gifts for Frannie and Jess Page 23
