by Jenny Frame
“There’s nothing wrong with being the life and soul of the Party, Dale. You’re the first person to make me laugh in fifteen years,” Becca joked.
“I guess that’s a badge of honour I should get then?”
“Exactly,” Becca said. “Awarded to Dale McGuire for achieving the seemingly impossible task of making Becca Harper laugh.”
Dale gave her a wink. “See, you do have a sense of humour.”
Becca cupped her hands around her mug of decaf tea, hoping the heat would seep into her body. “I haven’t needed it for so long, I didn’t think it worked any more. Amongst other things.”
Why did I say that? Becca chastised herself, knowing Dale would probably get her inference. She tried to change the subject quickly. “Tell me about your friends, Mia’s parents. You talk so fondly about them. They sound like lovely people.”
“They are. They took me in off the street when I came to London. They understood why I ran away.”
Becca heard Dale’s voice crack, and her heart hurt for her.
Dale covered her eyes with her hands. “I’m sorry. I never talk like this with anyone.”
“You can talk to me anytime, Dale. I can see you’ve got some painful memories.”
“You could say that. Anyway”—Dale pulled herself together in seconds—“that doesn’t matter.”
“You have a really sensitive side to you. Why don’t you show it more often?”
Dale looked at Becca like she was crazy. “Me? Sensitive? No way. I’m Dale McGuire the joker, happy go lucky, nothing can keep me down.”
“That’s only because you don’t allow people to see under that bravado. I can see past it.”
Dale shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was starting to feel a bit defensive. “Yeah? Well good for you.”
“Why are you annoyed? It’s a good thing to be sensitive,” Becca said.
“No, it’s fucking not. It might be good in your little protected upper-middle-class bubble where everyone is in touch with their feelings, but not in the real world. Where I came from, being in touch with your feelings got the shit kicked out of you. Besides, you have no right to lecture anyone. You’re so far away from your own feelings that you’re positively frosty.”
The look of shock on Becca’s face made her understand she had messed up and possibly blown a whole evening of getting Becca to trust her. Run!
Dale had to get out of there before Becca told her to go and rejected her. She stood up quickly and said, “Thanks for tonight. I’ll come back and put your car together tomorrow.”
Still Becca said nothing, so she left as quickly as she could.
* * *
“You are a fucking idiot!” Dale told herself as she stood looking into her bathroom mirror.
She’d had one of the best nights of her life, spending time with her son, her own flesh and blood, and his beautiful mother, and she ruined it.
Dale looked at her reflection accusingly. “Why did you do that to yourself?”
She shook her head in disgust and walked out of the bathroom to her bedroom, and sat on the bed. She stared at her smartphone, trying to summon the bravery to text Becca and tell her she was sorry.
Dale picked up one of the photos Becca had given her of Jake. It was the one taken of newborn Jake with Becca, right after he was born. She ran her finger over Jake’s little head and then Becca’s smiling face.
It was crazy and she hadn’t known them long, but there was no doubt in her mind that she wanted to be part of their lives. She wanted more nights like last night—well, except when she had done her level best to mess things up.
Why had she?
I was scared.
Becca was so guarded that she had no idea if she would ever be able to mend what she had broken, but she had to try.
Dale picked up her phone and texted an apology. She got into bed and waited for a reply. She put on the TV in the background and continued to wait. Half an hour went by and nothing.
“Oh, come on, Becca. Give me a chance,” Dale pleaded with her phone.
As she waited she must have fallen asleep, because she woke up to the alarm on her phone buzzing insistently. “Oh, give it a rest, man.”
Dale pulled the covers over her head and turned over to go back to sleep, before she remembered last night and what she had said. Now she was wide awake with a knot of worry in her stomach.
She sat up and looked at her phone. No message from Becca, just one to phone Sammy when she could.
Thinking she could do with the advice she called Sammy. “Hi, mate, it’s Dale.”
“How are you doing? Did you get on okay fixing Becca’s car?”
“Aye, I had great day. Becca let me see Jake, and I took them to dinner, and—”
“Whoa, slow down. She let you see Jake? How did that come about? I thought she was really wary of you?”
“She was.” Dale ran her hands through her messy hair. “Probably still is now, but yesterday we talked and then Jake’s school was closed for the afternoon, and I had her tyres off, so she kinda had to trust me a little bit.”
“How did it feel to see him again?”
Dale got up off her bed and picked up one of the pictures of Jake. “Unbelievable. I can’t describe what it feels like to spend time with him, knowing he’s part of me.”
“But he’s not yours, Dale. He’s Becca’s child,” Sammy said firmly.
“I know that,” Dale snapped. “You don’t have to remind me.”
“I think I do. You’re getting more and more involved with this family, and I’m frightened you’ll get hurt.”
“Sammy, listen, I know there’s a probability I’ll get hurt, but that’s worth it just to have spent time with him, and maybe the wee girl that’s coming. I’m not going to tell any kid of mine that I don’t want to know them. That’s just not happening.”
Sammy sighed. “Okay, I understand your reasons. Just be careful.”
“Cheers, I will. I won’t be working on the race car today. I need to put Becca’s car right.”
“No problem. Oh, by the way, Val remembered where she knew Becca’s face from.”
“Where?”
“Google Victoria Carter and the Carter fraud, and you’ll find all the information you need.”
Just then a text came through from Becca’s phone.
“I need to go, mate. I’ll call you later.”
A bad man came and frightened Mummy, now she’s not well. Mummy needs help.
Dale’s heart sank like a stone. She grabbed her clothes and got ready as quickly as she could.
Chapter Twelve
Dale pulled up outside the vicarage with a screech. She saw Sadie at the front trying her best to clean out all the wood and splinters from the broken front door.
“Sadie, are they okay? What happened?”
“I’m so glad you’re here, Dale. Becca won’t let me call the police. They’re both upstairs. Becca’s feeling under the weather.”
“How did the door get broken?” Dale asked.
Sadie leaned the broom against the wall and said, “I woke up with a start. It was about quarter past one, and I heard some loud bangs. I got myself up and looked out of the window, but I can’t see the driveway from my bedroom, so I phoned over to Becca’s to make sure they were all right. Little Jake answered and told me two men broke in.”
“I need to see them.” Dale went into the house and ran upstairs. She saw Jake standing outside the main bathroom, looking worried.
“Jake?”
He looked up and ran into her arms. “Mummy’s not feeling well. The bad men scared her.”
She squeezed Jake tight and kissed his head. “It’s okay, wee man. I’m here now. I’ll take care of everything. You don’t have to worry any more. Okay?”
His tears started to fall. She guessed it was pure relief that someone was here to take charge and protect them. Jake was too young to bear that worry for his mother.
Dale wiped away his tears with her thumb.
“I’ll go and talk to Mummy. Why don’t you go downstairs and get Sadie to give you a glass of water for Mummy.”
He nodded and ran downstairs. Dale knocked at the bathroom door. “Becca? It’s Dale.”
“Don’t come in,” Becca shouted.
Dale sighed. “I know I’m not your favourite person after last night. I was wrong and I’m sorry. Besides I’m the only option you’ve got right now.”
“I don’t want you to see me like this.”
Dale walked in the door and found Becca in her nightdress, leaning against the toilet and looking as white as a sheet.
“Becca, what’s wrong? Is it the baby?”
She knelt down beside her and, without thinking, began to rub her back.
“I was so dizzy. I felt sick, and then I was sick over and over.”
“Are you still feeling like you’re gonna puke?”
“Yes, but I think it’s stopped.”
“Right, come on then, hen.” Dale lifted a surprised Becca in her arms.
“Dale, I don’t smell very good. Let me walk myself.”
Dale continued to walk out the bathroom door, with Becca cradled in her arms, and made for her bedroom. “Who cares? I stink. I had to run over here without a shower, so we can stink together.”
She carefully laid Becca down on the bed and pulled the covers over her. “It’s too cold in here. Once I’ve got you settled, I’ll get you a hot water bottle.”
Becca moaned, and Dale knelt by the side of the bed. “I told Jake not to contact you. We’re not your responsibility.”
“What if I want you to be my responsibility?”
Becca didn’t answer and an awkward silence hung in the air.
“I’m sorry about last night,” Dale said softly. “I got a bit scared. I’m not used to being so open.”
“It’s okay. I got your text. I’m not used to being open and taking help either. Let’s forget about it.”
“What happened then?”
“Two men showed up to remind me that I owed their boss money.”
Dale felt a burning anger deep within her gut. “What is this, the Mafia?”
Becca pulled the covers under her chin to get warm. “Something like that.”
Dale put her hand on Becca’s forehead and stroked her thumb along one of her eyebrows in a soothing fashion. “They didn’t touch you, or Jake, did they?”
“No, they aren’t at that stage yet. They just wanted to scare me, so they kicked open the door, knocked things over, and made a lot of noise. Of course I was anxious and I just began to feel ill later.”
“You don’t sound too surprised,” Dale said.
“Nothing surprises me about Eugene Hardy.”
Dale sat back on her heels, feeling a bit shocked. “You owe money to Eugene Hardy? Eugene Hardy of the Hardy brothers?”
Becca nodded, and Dale said in surprise, “Fuck me. This is serious then.”
The Hardy brothers were well known gangsters in the London criminal world, and everyone knew that the last thing you wanted to do was owe them money.
She never heard Jake come in, but he appeared at her side with a glass of water, ready to get Dale into trouble. “Don’t swear, Dale. You’ll upset Mummy.”
Dale took the glass of water from him. “You’re right. I’m sorry, wee man. Here, Becca, drink some water.” Dale didn’t want to talk any more about Eugene Hardy in front of Jake, so she left that subject for now. “Becca, give me your doctor’s number and I’ll call him out to check you over.”
“No,” Becca said with alarm in her voice. “I don’t need the doctor. I just need some rest.”
“Oh, come on, Becca. Your blood pressure must be through the roof to make you so sick and dizzy. Why wouldn’t you want to be checked over, for the baby’s sake?”
Becca said nothing and closed her eyes, bringing the conversation to an end.
“Okay, you want to play it that way? Jake, go and get me Mummy’s cell phone.”
He immediately ran to his mother’s dressing table and came back with the phone.
“You wouldn’t dare,” Becca warned.
Jake handed her the phone, and she began to look through the address book.
“Oh, I would. Let me see, Dr. Thorpe? Is that him?”
“Dale, I’m fine. You’re making a mountain out of a molehill.”
The sheer panic in Becca’s face made her feel guilty. She was doing the right thing, wasn’t she? “Give me one good reason why not.”
“Because he might tell me I can’t work at all, even the small jobs, and I can’t afford it.”
Dale pressed the doctor’s number and it started to ring. “Not a good enough answer.”
* * *
Becca sat up in bed and watched Dr. Thorpe write her out a prescription. She was still mad that Dale had ignored her and gone ahead and called him. She would do anything to protect her unborn child, but if she couldn’t even take some of the small jobs, then there would be no money coming in.
The doctor ripped the prescription off his pad and brought it over to her. “I’ve adjusted your blood pressure medication. This new strength should help you almost immediately, but no more working. You need complete rest.”
Becca started to protest, but Dr. Thorpe silenced her. “No, no arguments, Rebecca. If you want to keep your baby healthy, then you follow my instructions. Remember, things could get a lot worse.”
What could she do? She was in an impossible situation. “If you insist, Doctor.”
Dr. Thorpe started to pack his things back in his suitcase, and said, “Who’s your new protector out there? Is she related?”
“No, not related.”
“Funny, she looks so much like Jake, I thought she must be related in some way.”
It was strange. This was the first time Becca didn’t feel bad about thinking that, and her heart skipped a beat. She decided to have a little fun with the doctor. “Yes, well, that makes sense, since she got me pregnant.”
Dr. Thorpe nearly swallowed his tongue. “Oh? Um…yes. Very good. Well I’ll leave you all to it.”
Becca laughed inside at his blustering. He was an older man but had never questioned her about having a baby on her own, about being gay, or anything, but that statement had caught him off guard.
“Well, I hope you feel better, Rebecca, take care.”
Becca chuckled as he hurried out of the bedroom. Dale popped her head around the door. “Hi, can I come in, or are you still angry at me?”
“Come in.”
Dale stood by her bed, hands in pockets and looking quite nervous. “That doctor gave me the strangest look when he left.”
Becca grinned and said, “I told him you got me pregnant.”
“Oh, thanks a million, hen. He probably thinks I’ve got hidden extra parts now.”
Becca giggled. “You deserved it for taking charge and giving me no choice.”
“I suppose so. At least you’re putting your new-found sense of humour to good use. So what did he say?”
“He’s changed my prescription and, as predicted, told me not to work until I’m feeling better.”
“Good, that sounds like a plan.”
Dale clearly had no idea how bad her finances were, and she wasn’t about to make it clear for her. There was no way she would accept charity and that would probably be what Dale would try to offer her next.
Either Dale really, truly cared about them, or she felt guilty, and Becca didn’t want to contemplate either.
Dale picked up the new prescription. “I’ll go and get this for you.”
“Thanks, Dale, I appreciate it.”
Dale ruffled her hair, and rocked back on her heels nervously. She was desperate to ask this question but sure Becca would clam up.
“Before I go, will you tell me how and why you could possibly be indebted to the Hardy brothers?”
“I don’t want to talk about it, and anyway, it’s not your burden to carry.”
“Oh, for God’s sake,
Becca. Is it not clear by now that I care? I might have met you and Jake in a weird way, but it doesn’t change the fact that I like you and want to help make things easier for you. Stop talking about burdens. I’ve got no one in my life to worry about but my friends and Mia. I have no real family. No one, Becca. What’s wrong with me caring? Tell me?”
Becca sighed. “There’s nothing wrong it.”
Dale sat down on the edge of the bed. “Listen, Becca. We’ve both got our secrets. I think we have to be honest with each other. I’m not going to go away unless you look me in the eye and tell me to go. Do you want me to go?”
She could see the tension clearly written on Becca’s face. Becca’s head probably wanted her to go, but her heart? Well, Dale prayed she was burrowing her way slowly in there.
“Do you want me to go? Becca?”
“No,” Becca said quietly.
Dale moved closer and took Becca’s hand. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours?”
Again Becca seemed uneasy. “I don’t think I can. It’s such a long time since I’ve told anyone. And one person I trusted completely betrayed me.”
“You think I’d betray you? Why would I want to do that when I’m spending every moment I can trying to help and make things easier for you?”
Becca took her hand out of Dale’s. “The very first person I told my story to, opened the heart of my family to, I thought was trying to help me.”
This was so hard. She was trying everything she could think of to secure Becca’s trust, but it wasn’t working. Maybe if she took the first step? Taking that step was easier said than done.
“How about I go first?” Dale clasped her hands and looked down at the floor. “Only Sammy and Val know this, and now you. It’s hurt me for a long time, but without Sammy’s and Val’s understanding, I don’t know where I’d be.”
“Dale, you don’t have to do this to prove a point,” she heard Becca say.
But she did. As scary as it was, she wanted to tell her story to Becca. No, she needed to.
“I came from a pretty normal working-class Scottish family. My da taught me everything I know about tools, decorating, repairs, anything manual. He was a tough man’s man, but he loved his family, and surprisingly he didn’t seem to mind having a daughter like me, who was more masculine than feminine. My ma said I was the son he never had.”
