The rational part of me thought that maybe they had moved house, but they had lived there since the day they were married so I thought that was unlikely. I concluded that it could only mean one thing: Dad was dead. I was too late.
That was when I reminded myself of the belief that I would have felt... I don’t know... something if one of them had died. Dad wasn’t dead, there had to be another explanation. I told myself I was being overly dramatic.
I’d anticipated not being home that night so I had booked a hotel room over the phone. I drove to the hotel and checked in, then called Angie from my room.
‘How’d it go?’ she asked cheerily.
I had a one-word answer. ‘Shite.’
She asked me what had happened.
‘Everything’s different,’ I said, and even as the words came out I realised how stupid I must seem to have thought that things would be just as I had left them.
There was a silence, which Angie broke by asking, ‘Did you see your parents?’
‘No,’ I admitted.
After we’d finished talking I went to the hotel bar and ordered a drink. When my beer came I cast a critical eye over it but decided what the hell and drank it anyway. Six pints later I climbed the stairs and let myself into the empty room. This was not how I’d seen the day ending. Maybe I’d been naïve to think that I’d spend the evening with Mum making a fuss of me as I told Dad about Angie and the pub. In my mind’s eye, I’d even seen Tom rushing over from wherever the hell he lived now just so that he could shake my hand and say it was good to see me.
As I lay on my back staring at the ceiling I decided that maybe it was just as well I hadn’t seen them because I was kidding myself about the reception that I would have received. Would they really have been so forgiving? I doubted that I would have been if I were in their shoes.
I slept fitfully and woke up tired. I’d promised Angie I would go back to the house, but I couldn’t do it on an empty stomach so went down to the hotel restaurant. I asked the waitress for a Full English with white toast on the side and she brought me a cup of coffee while I waited. I took my time over the food, putting off what I knew I would have to do, so it was just before ten when I checked out. I’d only booked for one night so, come what may, I’d be going back to Angie before the day was out. At least I had something to look forward to.
The trouble was I had promised Angie I would try again. I just wasn’t sure that I could, and in the end I didn’t go to the house, I went to the park down the street. I watched the kids playing there, enjoying their summer holidays off school. The weather was good and most of them wore T-shirts and shorts. It occurred to me that I might look like some sort of weirdo eyeing up children so I walked away before someone called the police.
I walked up to where the café used to be, down past the tennis courts, and stopped on the stone bridge. I leaned against it and looked at the water running under it. I say running but it was standing really because the bridge was over a pond not a river.
After a while something made me look up and there she was: at a distance but it was definitely her. I put my head down so that she couldn’t see my face but I didn’t take my eyes off her. I watched her walk out of the park before I moved to a place where I could see where she was going.
She walked into the house. Mum still lived there, at least. I thought about going and knocking on the door but my feet wouldn’t take me. They took me back to the car instead and I got in and drove home.
Angie didn’t say that she was disappointed by what had happened, but I think she was. I knew I was. What the hell was wrong with me? She was my mother not the devil. She would have welcomed me back into the fold even if no one else did. I justified it by telling myself it was the lack of a car that threw me. A car, any car, would have suggested that Dad was still there with her. I couldn’t get the thought that Dad might be dead out of my mind.
I told Angie how I felt.
‘At least you would know,’ she stroked my hair as she was talking to me, the way that a mother does when she’s comforting her child.
The trouble was, I didn’t think I was ready to know. Not if it turned out that I was right.
I went back the following week and I parked outside number six which was about a hundred yards up the street from my parents’ house and on the other side. One of Tom’s mates had lived there when we were little but the place looked like it was empty now. I had a good view of the front door.
It was a midweek afternoon and there was no sign of life in the house. In fact, there was no sign of life in the street. I sat there about twenty minutes, then left. I’d been in two minds about going that day because we had a function on at the pub that night and, although Angie had said they could manage without me, I used it as an excuse to get home as soon as I could.
‘There was no one in,’ I told Angie when she asked me what the hell I was doing back.
I’m not sure she believed me but she said she was glad I was there. ‘It might get rowdy later on,’ she said, ‘and I think Colin’s bouncing days might be behind him.’
I couldn’t help feeling that I had let her down in some way.
By the time that I drove back to my home town the following week, it was as though the car knew its own way and when I parked up in the same spot as the week before there were several landmarks that I couldn’t remember having passed. There had been an accident and I’d arrived later than I’d anticipated. It was after five and I thought I might have to stay over, depending on how things turned out.
I’d been there a couple of minutes plucking up the courage to go up to the door and knock on it when a car appeared at the other end of the street. I watched a dark blue Vauxhall slow down and pull up outside the house. I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach which made me think of a washing machine on a fast spin as I wondered if I’d been proven wrong about Dad. I watched and waited to see if Dad got out of the car.
Dad didn’t get out of the car. It was Tom, who gave a cursory glance in my direction before going up the path and walking straight into the house. No knocking for him. It occurred to me that maybe he still lived there.
I wanted to go up to the door, so help me God I did, but something stopped me. I was still sitting there when Tom came back out of the house. He looked in my direction again and I watched him looking at me. Do you know what surprised me the most about him? The way he was dressed. He was wearing light grey trousers and a charcoal jacket, with a tie hanging loosely around his neck. What had happened to my artistic younger brother? He looked like he worked in a bank. I wondered what had made Tom sell out on his dream.
He was still looking at me as he got back into his car. Then he pulled away slowly and, as he came closer, I turned my head away, pretending to look at something on the passenger seat.
Once he was past I looked in the rear-view mirror and watched him disappear around the corner and drive off in the direction of the ring road. I hadn’t realised that I was holding my breath but I had been and I didn’t let it go until Tom was out of sight.
I sat a minute or two more then drove off. I was back behind the bar well before closing time.
After we’d cleared away and everyone else had left, Angie and I sat in the flat eating toast and drinking tea. What can I tell you? Being a pub landlord means you don’t have a great diet. I think Angie had been waiting for me to tell her what had happened but when she thought she had waited long enough she asked.
‘I saw Tom,’ I told her.
She tried to appear casual as she asked, ‘Did you speak to him?’ But she didn’t pull it off; she couldn’t hide the excitement in her eyes.
That soon disappeared when I said, ‘No.’ I told her how I had seen him from my car, how I had watched him go into our parents’ house and how I’d still been there when he left. ‘Next time,’ I told her. ‘I promise Angie, next time I’ll do it. I’ll go up to the door and I’ll knock on it.’
‘When you’re ready,’ she said.
I sti
ll didn’t know when that would be.
TOM
We both looked at the clock when the phone rang. Michelle was closest to it and said, ‘Hello,’ cautiously into the receiver. She nodded her head and flicked her eyes towards me as she said, ‘OK.’ She handed the phone to me and said, ‘It’s your dad,’
‘Dad?’ It was unusual for Dad to ring at all, let alone so late in the evening, so I was anxious to hear what he wanted. My first thought was that there was something wrong with Mum. I’m sorry, but when your parents reach a certain age the thought is always there at the back of your mind.
I thought I heard him say, ‘He’s here,’ but not wanting to believe it I asked him to say it again. He did.
‘He’s here.’
I felt my heart pounding in my chest and I had to take a deep breath before I could ask, ‘Where?’
‘Sitting over the road, watching the house.’
I’d never heard my father sound so stressed in his life.
‘I’m coming over,’ I told him and handed the receiver back to Michelle without saying goodbye to my dad. ‘I’ve got to go to Mum’s,’ I said on my way out of the room.
Michelle was on my heels asking, ‘What’s wrong? Is it your Mum? Do you want me to come with you?’
God no, I thought. That was the last thing I wanted. ‘You stay here with the boys,’ I said as I threw on a jacket and collected the car keys from the table in the hallway. ‘I’ll not be long.’
‘But what’s wrong?’ she was like a dog with a bone sometimes. She reminds me of my dad in that respect.
‘Nothing. Really.’ I tried to make it sound frivolous but I was wasting my time.
‘Why are you lying to me Tom?’ she said directly into my eyes.
‘Sorry,’ I said after I’d blown air out of my cheeks. ‘What I should have said was that it was nothing for you to worry about.’
She got that look on her face then, you know, the one that challenges you and I wilted under her glare. I probably did that childlike thing of chewing my lip as I considered my options and wondered how I was going to tell her. In the end I decided that the only thing to do was say it straight out. Like I’d done with my dad I spat the words ‘Robert’s back’ out as quickly as I could.
‘What?’ Michelle whispered but it felt like she was screaming.
I reached out to her but for the first time ever she brushed my hand away. Her eyes were wide and wild and her mouth was moving without making a sound. She was taking short sharp breaths and it was a couple of seconds before she was controlled enough to ask, ‘What do you mean?’
I think she hoped that she’d got the wrong end of the stick but when I said, ‘He’s turned up,’ she realised she hadn’t and she started to wobble. She let me grab her and I pulled her close.
‘Where is he?’ her voice wobbled almost as much as her legs had.
‘At Mum’s,’ I said the words into the top of her head.
‘At the house?’ her voice was hysterical and her body stiffened.
‘No,’ I was still talking into the top of her head. ‘He’s sitting in a car across the street watching the house.’
She pulled away so that we were looking at each other. ‘How do they know it’s him, then?’ hysteria had been replaced by desperation.
I had no choice but to tell her. ‘He’s been there before.’
Her head was shaking and so was her whole body. ‘No,’ she said, ‘he can’t be.’ Her eyes were glistening and I knew that tears weren’t far away.
I held her firmly by the shoulders and spoke directly at her. ‘Listen,’ I said, ‘I need you to calm down. The boys are upstairs so I need you to look after our sons while I go over and see if he’s still there.’
‘What if he is?’ she asked.
If I’m honest I hadn’t given much thought to what came next, so I shrugged my shoulders. ‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. ‘I guess I’ll go over and see what he wants.’
‘Talk to him?’ she made it sound like a ridiculous idea.
‘Don’t worry,’ I assured her. ‘It’ll be fine.’
‘What does he want?’ the wobble was still in her voice and the tears that had been in her eyes were now rolling down her cheeks.
‘I don’t know,’ I said as I pulled her close again. I could see the reflection of her face in the hall mirror as she rested her head on my shoulder. She looked terrified. I squeezed her and said, ‘but whatever it is, I’m going to find out.’ I kissed the top of her head and patted her back. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said, ‘I’ll not be long.’
I didn’t like leaving her, not in the state she was in, but I had to go. Anyway, Michelle is the strongest person I know so I was confident that she’d pull herself together once I had left, if only for the boys’ sake. She’d be mortified if one of them came downstairs and saw her like that.
She stood in the doorway and watched me get into the car. I noticed that she was hanging on to the jamb and I thought it was probably to stop herself from falling down. I waved at her before I drove off but she didn’t wave back. She probably didn’t dare let go.
I pulled the hand brake on and turned the ignition off outside the house. We’re talking about summer but it was late into the evening and the light was fading. Even so, I could still make out the shape of a Fiesta parked up the street. Streetlights caused shadows and all I could make out was the shape of a person sitting in the car. I could see the silhouette of their head and shoulders and that was all I needed. I would have known that shape anywhere.
I sat, I watched, and I waited.
Eventually I climbed out of the car and, as I did, I caught a glimpse of my dad at one of the bedroom windows. After locking the car door, I put the keys in my pocket and started to walk slowly towards my brother.
I was about six feet away before I could see him clearly. As he came into focus, I could see that time had apparently been good to him and he seemed to have changed very little. A bit heavier maybe but, other than that, he looked pretty much the same as he had the last time I had seen him.
ROBERT
‘Do it,’ Angie said to me the following week, I think it was a Wednesday. ‘Go, knock at the door and say “here I am”.’
I started to say something but didn’t get the chance because she put her finger on my lips.
‘No Rob,’ she said sternly, ‘this is eating you up and it has to stop.’ She put her hands on either side of my head and with her face about an inch away from mine said, ‘Promise me you really will do it this time. Promise me that you’ll at least say hello to your mother.’
I promised her I would and all the way there I believed I could do it. As I drove I asked myself what was the worst that could happen? Would she close the door in my face? I doubted it, though I couldn’t be sure that she would welcome me with open arms. It had been so long and I had left so suddenly. If Michelle had given the baby up for adoption maybe she would resent me for robbing her of a grandchild. What if no more had come along and, because of me and my selfishness, she had not had the chance to know her only grandchild?
I hadn’t given her or anyone else another thought when I’d left. I’d done it because it was what was right for me. I know that I had been selfish leaving that way – I’ve never denied that – and the closer I got to home, the more I doubted that she would forgive me for it.
If I was being honest, I still wasn’t sure why I was doing this: why was even thinking about going back home? Why had it suddenly become important to me? There had to be more to it than me wanting my mother’s forgiveness. Wouldn’t that be the most selfish thing that I had ever done? Was I really prepared to risk hurting her all over again by dragging up a load of ‘what might have been’ just because I’d decided it was what I needed? Maybe it would be better to cut and run before anyone realised I’d even been there.
I almost pulled off a junction early, just so that I could go around the roundabout and join the motorway going in the opposite direction. My hand was actually on the indicat
or when Angie’s face popped up in front of my eyes. I’d promised her that I would at least say hello to my mum and I didn’t think I could face her if I hadn’t.
I arrived mid-afternoon but instead of going straight to the house and getting it over with I parked the car near the Town Hall and went for a walk. The town had changed during my absence and as I walked up the High Street I wondered if I would ever see anything that I recognised. The sports shop was now a charity shop and the cinema was a pub. I went inside and ordered myself a pint of bitter. I also ordered a burger and chips, which I was thankful took a long time coming; anything to put off what I had promised to do.
It was standard pub chain fare but what do you expect for less than a fiver? I was tempted by another pint but the last thing I needed to do was turn up blotto so I had a coffee instead.
It was just before six when I stepped back onto the street and walked slowly back to the car. I was still tempted to just get back on the A1 and go home but at the back of my mind was this little niggle of the promise I had made to Angie.
I took my phone out of my pocket and rang her just so that I could hear her voice. We spoke for a couple of minutes about nothing in particular and before we said goodbye I told her not to wait up. Then I spent almost two hours driving around and it was just five to eight when I pulled into what I was starting to regard as my spot outside number six.
Just do it, I told myself, just knock on the door, but something stopped me. I cursed myself for being a coward but I still sat where I was, looking at the house. It was only after everything happened that I realised how lucky I’d been that one of the neighbours didn’t ring the police and say that there was someone casing the street – maybe they need to start a Neighbourhood Watch scheme.
A light came on in the living room at about half eight and, not long after, in one of the front bedrooms. A couple of minutes later, someone – I couldn’t tell who – closed the curtains. It looked like Mum was settling down for the night and I thought that I might have left it too late. Maybe I would book into a hotel for the night – I was sure I could find one somewhere – and come back the following day to keep my promise to Angie.
Not My Brother's Keeper Page 14
