by Rona Halsall
Izzy sighed. ‘Well, it sounds like he was just winded or something, doesn’t it? And if he was shouting, surely he’d be able to call for help if he thought he needed medical attention.’ She raised her eyebrows. ‘Yes?’
Martha nodded. ‘Yes,’ she agreed, reassuring herself that was true.
‘Right, well, let’s drive past. I think it’s on the way to the holiday park anyway.’ Izzy rummaged in her bag for the car keys. ‘I think we leave it at that and sort out what we want to do tomorrow.’
Martha gave a grateful smile. ‘Okay. Sorry to have got you caught up in this mess. Thanks for coming and sorting out a place to stay. Honestly, I don’t know what I was thinking.’
Izzy slung an arm round her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. ‘Hey, no worries. You’ve had so much going on recently, with your boss dying, and your mum being poorly and losing your job. That’s a lot of serious shit to deal with.’ She squeezed Martha a little tighter. ‘I’m happy to help any way I can. And we all need looking after sometimes, don’t we?’
The knot of tension that pulled at the back of Martha’s neck loosened a little. Someone to look after me. Yes, please. She returned the hug.
Greg’s house was fairly close to the McDonald’s and it was only a few minutes before they were there, Izzy almost driving past before Martha shouted out, ‘There! That’s it.’
Izzy drove up the road a little way before she stopped the car and they both turned and looked back. Martha scanned the windows of Greg’s house then relaxed back on her seat, the remaining tension ebbing away. ‘There’s a light on. I’m sure there wasn’t earlier. He must be okay.’
Izzy smiled at her. ‘There you go. Nothing to worry about. We’ll be much fresher in the morning, then we can go and quiz him, okay?’
Martha nodded and looked out at the darkness, the silhouettes of the mountains in the distance, and wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to go back and speak to Greg. Wasn’t sure that she wanted to ask him anything. His rejection had been complete and very definite. He’d wanted her out of the house as fast as possible and had completely disowned her. Maybe it was the shock of her just turning up unannounced. Whatever his reasons, how can I face him after I attacked him like that?
Eleven
Fran
Now
Fran checked her phone again, hoping to see a message from Martha, but there was nothing. Greg hadn’t replied either.
She lay back on her pillows, the drugs making her drowsy, her eyelids heavy, and she wasn’t entirely sure if she was awake or dreaming. People came in and out of the ward. Nurses. Doctors. Healthcare assistants. So many different-coloured uniforms she never knew who she was dealing with, but in her dreamy state, she really didn’t care. She let them prod and poke her, take her blood pressure and temperature, check her legs and feet, inject liquids into the cannulas that had been inserted in both arms. Even the catheter didn’t bother her. It was lovely to not have to do anything, lovely to exist in this dreamy world, where she had nothing to worry about, all her needs taken care of by this small army of people. She even had a window by her bed to look out of, should she feel the need.
Time had no meaning, but she thought she’d been away from home for more than a couple of days. Away from Martha. And that thought burrowed into her state of calm until she remembered her problems. Remembered why she should be worried about Martha’s well-being. Why she needed to hear from Greg.
She summoned the energy to check her phone again and saw that hours had passed and still no message from her ex-husband or her daughter. The monitor that was tracking her heartbeat beeped a little bit faster and she tried to remember what day it was. When had Martha last been to visit? Did she remember her saying she couldn’t come every day? Or had she dreamt it? It was a fair old trek from their house to the hospital, and now money was tight, she knew they couldn’t afford for Martha to visit too often. But she so wanted to see her, make sure she was all right. She worried about her being on her own.
Perhaps she’s left me.
The sudden appearance of this terrifying thought made her heart skip a beat. Martha was Fran’s whole world. From the moment she’d held her, she’d loved her with a passion that had completely taken her by surprise. Martha had awakened something in Fran, a fierce protectiveness that she’d had no idea was there. Yes, they had their differences, but that was because they had very different personalities – chalk and cheese, really – and her love for Martha never burned any less after an argument. In fact, she quite liked how sparky she was, that she’d fight her corner, and she worried that one day she’d push her too far.
Martha leaving was Fran’s worst fear and, ironically, the thing that regularly fuelled her drinking, which caused… I’m a stupid bitch. She tutted to herself. I’m supposed to be looking out for her and I end up like this. A wave of self-loathing swept over her and she felt like tearing all the tubes and needles out of her body, letting herself die. Then she wouldn’t be a burden on her daughter any more. But then there’d be nobody to protect her, she reminded herself. Not with Greg so far away.
She thought about her ex and what he’d done all those years ago. One mistake, she told herself, that’s all it was. And he’d done it for her, for his family. That was the stupid thing, another irony… It was criminal, she reminded herself. However much she might like to dress up his actions as something else, ringing somebody and telling them you would make information public that would incriminate a family member and ruin their reputation and career unless they paid you money… well, that was blackmail, wasn’t it? It could never be condoned, and trying to blackmail a family involved in the legal profession, well that was beyond stupid.
She understood his reasons; they’d been in dire financial straits after he’d lost his job, but it wasn’t a solution she would ever have come up with. Not in a million years. She sighed. He’d always been prone to bending the law, had Greg. Been in trouble with the police as a lad, although he’d glossed over it, said it was down to his older brothers leading him astray. A police caution should have taught him a lesson, but it hadn’t. He’d always got away with his little ‘jobs on the side’ as he called them. Just a teensy bit of handling stolen goods, nothing major. She’d turned a blind eye, liked to pretend to herself that it was nothing. Harmless. And anyway, the money had been handy. Necessary at times, so who was she to argue?
The memories flowed into her mind, her life as it was before the night the thugs gave Greg a beating. Even after all this time, he was still frightened of being found by the family who’d warned him off. They’d told him they would always be watching him. Wherever he went, they’d find him and be keeping a close eye. Of course, she’d told him it would all be forgotten by now, but he didn’t believe it. Said he couldn’t bring himself to put Martha at risk, so he stayed away, and Fran stayed hidden in the middle of bloody nowhere, living like a recluse while she’d watched her daughter grow into a fine young woman with no real future. It was a catch-22 situation. She had stayed here to protect Martha, but being here stopped Martha from fulfilling her potential.
And now this.
Things are going to have to change. She nodded, lips pursed, as her pep talk chattered along in her mind. I’ve got to try harder. Cut out the booze. Eat properly. Take my medication. Otherwise Martha would leave, and Fran would never forgive herself if something terrible happened to her.
She checked her phone. Still no message from either of them. She sent another text to Greg then tried to call Martha, but it went straight to voicemail. Now she was getting worried.
Fran was dozing when she heard a noise that she knew meant something, felt a buzzing on her stomach, but it took her a minute to work out what it was. She blinked, trying to get her eyes to open, while she reached under the covers for her phone, fumbling to swipe and tap to make the damned thing work.
‘Hello? Hello?’ she gasped, her voice wheezy and hoarse with lack of use.
‘Mum? How are you?’
Fran
sighed and relaxed. A warm glow enveloped her as she heard her daughter’s voice, acknowledging it as a sign that she cared about her. I’m not alone. Although she felt it, with no visitors coming to sit by her bed and bring her cards and presents like the other women in the ward. Maybe tomorrow…
‘I thought you might be coming to see me today? Or is it tomorrow you’re coming?’
‘Sorry, Mum, I’ve been looking for work and you know what it’s like getting to the hospital. I’ll try and come tomorrow evening, but it all depends on how the day pans out. I’ve got an interview in the afternoon, so… well, I don’t really know.’
‘Oh, an interview! That’s good news, then. I could do with some good news. Where is it? Come on, tell me all about it.’
Martha was quiet for a moment and Fran could hear chatter in the background, faint music.
‘It’s only… um… it’s KFC, Mum.’ She was mumbling and Fran wondered if she was embarrassed after her plans to go to university and all those big ideas Pete had put in her head. Honestly, she used to follow him round like a puppy and Fran would have to admit to twinges of jealousy. It was always Pete said this and Pete said that. Obviously, she didn’t wish him dead, but she wasn’t too sorry that he wouldn’t be part of their lives any more.
‘You’ll have to speak up, love, I can’t hear you so well.’
Martha’s voice suddenly became loud, making Fran jump. ‘I said it’s nothing to get excited about and I have no experience doing anything like that so who knows if I’ll get it or not. I’ve got to go for anything, haven’t I?’
Fran could hear a tinge of annoyance in Martha’s voice, and she knew she was mad at her for being so hopeless. Mad at her for being in hospital again, for being diabetic, for drowning her sorrows in drink, for… Well, she was just mad at her, full stop. It had been a while, Fran thought, since they’d been as close as they once were, and the further Martha slipped away from her, the tighter she wanted to hold on.
‘Nothing wrong with KFC, love. I’m just so pleased you’ve got an interview.’ Then she frowned, unable to think where there was a KFC nearby, but Fran hardly went anywhere these days, so she was pretty much out of date with which shops and franchises had opened in the area.
‘How are you, Mum?’
Fran sighed. ‘Not so good, love. They’ve decided my heart’s a bit dicky, so I’ve just started on medication for that. I’ve got blood thinners and ones for my blood pressure and antibiotics to see if they can sort out the problems with my feet and…’ She stopped ticking through the list, appalled by the state she’d let herself get into. ‘Oh, I can’t remember them all, but there’s always someone wanting to pump stuff into my arm or give me little pills to swallow. I can’t wait to get out of here now.’
‘Have they said when that’s likely to be?’
‘Oh, it won’t be until they’ve done the home visit next week. Hopefully, if that’s okay…’ Her chest filled with a sudden rush of emotion, and without warning, she started to cry, unable to consider the option of having to stay in hospital. The novelty had worn off earlier in the day, as soon as they’d taken her off the morphine. Now she was no longer floating in a little dreamworld, the regime was intrusive, the ward noisy, the food horrible and she was lonely. More than that, though, she was afraid to be away from Martha, when it was her job to look after her.
‘Hey, Mum, don’t go upsetting yourself.’ Martha’s voice softened and Fran could hear the concern.
She does care, really.
‘I’m sure everything will be fine. You just concentrate on getting better and I’ll try and get to see you tomorrow evening, okay?’
Fran gulped back her sobs but still couldn’t speak.
‘Tomorrow, Mum.’ Martha’s voice cracked. ‘I promise I’ll be there tomorrow, okay?’
‘Okay,’ Fran whispered, then Martha was gone.
She stared at her phone, suddenly alone again. It had felt so good to connect with Martha and she realised how much she missed her and how much she’d come to hate her own company. Will she come tomorrow? Or will I have to wait a bit longer? That was a horrible thought and fresh tears welled up.
Hopefully, the antibiotics would do their job and they’d stop talking about amputation; the idea that she’d end up in a wheelchair because she hadn’t bothered to look after herself was beyond appalling. Poor Martha would definitely struggle with that.
Major changes, Fran. Healthy living from now on. That’s what we’re going to do. Healthy living.
If she wanted Martha to stay, then she’d have to show willing, show that she was prepared to make an effort. Not like all the other times, when her good intentions had vanished like steam from a kettle.
If she was being honest with herself, she would have to say that their relationship had become increasingly distant over the last few years. Fran could see the disapproval on Martha’s face when she had to clean up after her. She knew it wasn’t right, but sometimes her misery and disappointment and loneliness got the better of her, and a couple of drinks seemed the only solution. Except it never was just a couple. It was always way more than that. Then Martha got so frustrated and angry and that wasn’t a good thing, was it? She’d end up getting ill if that carried on and it would all be Fran’s fault. How would she live with that on her conscience? After all these years of having to tell lies, she had enough on her conscience already.
It’s been a hard life. There was no doubting it, but worth it if that was what had to be done to keep Martha safe from their past and Greg’s stupidity. It had been a shock, to be a single parent all of a sudden and have to comfort her sobbing daughter when she was missing Greg. It had broken her heart, poor child, and Fran felt awful that she’d had to lie to her. But she’d worked hard to distract her and she remembered so many happy times down on the beach, exploring the rock pools, making sand sculptures, looking for beautiful shells to stick onto collages. Yes, Fran might have lacked in some elements of parenting, but she was sure she’d got most of it right.
You’re not there to be their friend, are you? No, your job as a parent is to guide and protect and nourish their little souls as best you can. And she’d done that as best she could, sacrificing her own needs for those of her daughter. Then the teenage hormones had kicked in and that was tricky to deal with on her own. Drink helped and basically it all went downhill from there.
Fran knew exactly when the anger had taken root in Martha. It was when she’d just turned eighteen, had been accepted to study animal husbandry at university and she was all set to go. The thought of Martha leaving had given Fran panic attacks as she worried about how her daughter would cope away from home, and whether she’d be safe. She’d gone on a bender and ended up falling down the stairs, banged herself up really badly and needed looking after for months. To her shame, she’d begged Martha not to go, telling her she couldn’t manage without her, playing the guilt card, knowing that Martha was the sort of caring individual who wouldn’t be able to go off and leave her if she thought she couldn’t cope. Yes, she’d admit that she’d laid it on thick, just to keep her at home. She’d hated doing it, but it was for Martha’s own good. Not that she could tell her, because it would mean explaining things to Martha that she could never know.
Fran tossed and turned, unable to get comfortable as her mind wandered around like a drunkard.
It pained her to put pressure on Martha, and she tried to work out if there was an alternative. Money, that’s what we need. A lump sum to tide us over. Fran was determined to do better in the future, but she knew that it would be a little while before she could work again. And in the meantime, even if Martha got herself another job, there was a stack of bills to pay. The letter from the debt collection company sprang to mind. The threat of bailiffs.
I’ve got to get this sorted.
She looked at her phone and found Greg’s number. Her finger pressed ‘call’ before she could think too hard about it and she waited, listening to the dial tone while her heart hammered in her
chest.
‘Hello. Greg MacKay’s phone.’
She frowned, confused. ‘Can I speak to Greg, please?’
‘Can I ask who’s calling?’
Something was very wrong with the conversation, but her mind was slow to react with all the drugs pumping round her system. Why is someone else answering Greg’s mobile? He was as much of a recluse as she was. He’d told her. He couldn’t risk friends, couldn’t risk anyone finding out who he was, because danger was out there. After all these years, he still felt he had to hide. The hairs stood up on the back of her neck. So, who is this man?
She ended the call and threw her phone onto the bed as if it were on fire, hands flying up to cover her mouth. Oh my God! Have they found him?
Twelve
Fran
Fifteen years ago
Fran looked across the dining room table at Anna, a damp tissue twisted in her hand, her mug of tea untouched.
‘Where is he now, then? This husband of yours?’ Anna’s enunciation of the words made her disapproval of Greg very clear. She was that sort of woman, though, all twinset and pearls, almost old enough to be Fran’s mother. Always immaculately dressed, and a little uptight, she was statuesque, with blonde hair swept back in a chignon, and wouldn’t have looked out of place in a fashion magazine in her day. She’d been introduced to Fran by a publisher she’d done work for in the past. Now they were collaborating on their third in a series of children’s books, and Fran had found that once she’d got through the hard outer shell, and Anna had let her guard down, she was a different person and could be quite lovely. Since Fran worked from home, Anna came round now and again to look at designs or talk through what she wanted, and although Fran made every effort to keep work and home life separate, today she’d failed miserably and had broken down in tears.
