31 Dream Street (26 page)

‘Oh, God, has it?’

‘Yeah. I thought you were a bit up yourself when I first moved in. You know, a bit stand-offish. You kept yourself to yourself, didn’t stop for a chat. But the past few weeks, you seem to have come out of yourself a bit. And you’re lovely, you know that? Really lovely. You’ve got so much going for yourself, you really have. But you don’t half make life difficult for yourself.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I mean – you should get out more, make more of yourself. You know, you’re not a bad-looking fella. Got
a bit of a schnozz on you, but you’ve got a lovely face. Beautiful brown eyes. And yet…’

‘And yet what?’

‘Well, your hair, those…
things
growing out of your cheeks, the way you dress. You’re not doing yourself any favours.’

Toby blinked incredulously at Melinda, sure that at any minute now she would start cackling and say, ‘Only joking, love. You look gorgeous.’ But she didn’t.

‘You know what would suit you, Toby? A shaved head. You know, like Justin Timberlake. A pair of clippers. Number one. The whole lot – off.’

‘My head is rather a strange shape. I’m not exactly sure that would be the best look for…’

‘And you should probably take the time for a trip to a dental hygienist.’

‘Oh, my God – are you suggesting that I have halitosis?’

‘Oh, Lord,
no
. I wouldn’t be so rude. I just mean, for a bit of a polish, a bit of a sparkle. Nothing ages a person more than uncared-for teeth, you know.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. I mean, you’ve got a lot going for you, really. You’ve got this beautiful house; you’ve obviously got a bit of money coming in judging from what you’ve been spending lately; you’re a
poet
. What woman can resist a poet? But you really need a serious image overhaul. I mean – what’s with all the second-hand clothes?’

‘What’s wrong with second-hand clothes?’

‘Well, they
smell
, don’t they? I mean –
other people
have worn them.’ She shuddered delicately and got to her feet. ‘There’s enough good cheap clothes out there. You don’t need to buy other people’s cast-offs.’

‘But I’ve bought a couple of things, lately. I mean – a jacket, some shoes, a coat.’

‘Yes. I saw. And very nice they are, too. But you need to start from scratch, Toby, love. Start all over again.’ She threw him a look of deep sympathy and reached into a cardboard box on the floor for a bottle of tequila. ‘Shots?’ she said, waving it at him.

Toby winced. He was already more drunk than seemed reasonable for a Monday night.

‘Ooh, go on. We’re having such a nice time. Let’s just go for it.’

He smiled. ‘Go on, then. But just a little one.’

‘I’ll come shopping with you, if you like. Steer you in the right direction.’

Toby stared at Melinda for a moment, in stasis, unable to think or breathe or move. She was wearing a cropped cream jumper, knitted out of what looked like old bath mats, tight pink cotton trousers, brown pixie boots and hoop earrings. Her hair was in a frizzy ponytail and her nails were painted brown. Even if Toby could bear to admit to himself that he might be in need of an image overhaul, Melinda was the last person on God’s earth whom he would allow to assist him.

‘That’s very sweet of you,’ he said, ‘really. But I’ve pretty much spent all my money now, on the house.’

‘Ah, well. The offer’s there, if you need it. It’s lovely of you, you know, making the house so nice for us all. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I liked it before, but what you’ve done – it’s stunning. I would never have had you down as having such good taste. Would have thought you’d have gone for all that sort of antiquey, junk-shoppy stuff. You know – second-hand!’

‘Yes, well,’ he smiled, and accepted a teacup full of tequila. ‘I surprised myself.’

She held her teacup aloft. ‘A toast,’ she said, ‘to you. For all your kindness. God bless you, Toby, for looking after me and my boy. God knows where we’d be without you. Cheers.’

They banged their cups together and downed the drinks.

‘Toby – can I ask you a personal question?’

‘Er, OK.’

‘When was the last time you had sex?’

‘God, er, um, well, it must have been, probably about, fifteen years ago?’

‘No! Oh, my God, that makes me feel better!’

‘Why – when was the last time you, er…?’

‘Last summer. In Turkey. Just before I moved back here.’

‘Oh, I see. And that, I assume, was the man with whom you were living.’

‘Living with?
Engaged
to.’

‘Oh, right.’

‘Yes. I should have been married by now. I should have been Mrs Akhun Erbakan. Then the fucker hit me.’

‘Ooh,’ Toby recoiled.

‘Yes. I know. Managed to get to forty-four years of age without a man ever laying a finger on me and then,
bam
.’

‘God, did he hurt you?’

‘No, not really. It wasn’t a
beating
, as such. But I was out of there faster than you could say one-way ticket to Luton airport. No man hits Melinda McNulty. Nuh-uh.’ She shook her head defiantly and poured two more shots of tequila. ‘Never been so happy to see English soil. Nearly kissed the tarmac when we hit the runway. And then to find that my beautiful boy was living in this gorgeous house in such a nice part of London. Kind of killed my travel bug off for good.’

‘So, Melinda, you know, I’ve always wondered and I’ve never really wanted to ask before, but why… why did you leave Con? Why didn’t you bring him up?’

‘Ah, yes,’ Melinda took a sip of tequila. ‘Bad mother. Naughty girl.
Slapped wrists
.’ She slapped her own wrists. ‘I don’t know. I’ve asked myself that question so many times, and I think what it all boiled down to was
confidence
, you know? I was twenty-six, but a
young
twenty-six. Con’s father didn’t want to know. And I tried, I really did try. I gave up work and spent six months at home being a full-time mum, but I just felt like I was so
crap
at it. Like I couldn’t do anything
right. He kept getting ill and he wouldn’t feed properly and all the women at the clinic made me feel like it was my fault. And then my mum would walk in and Con’s little face would light up and he’d stop crying and he’d feed like an angel and I just thought, you know what, what am I doing here in this miserable fucking country with this baby who hates me? He’s not happy; I’m not happy. And I knew my mum would do a better job of bringing him up than me. So I got this rep job based in Spain. I came home every couple of weeks at first, to see Con, but in the end I couldn’t handle it any more. The coming and going, the emotional stress of it all. And they had such a unit, Con and my mum. They were such a little team. I felt kind of sidelined. So, in the end, I just stopped. Just tried to forget about him…’ She sniffed and dabbed her eyes with a piece of kitchen roll. ‘Not that I ever did. You can’t forget your own child, can you? Not when you’re a mother.’

‘So, when did you see him next? After the last time?’

‘At mum’s funeral. Oh, God, that was dreadful. It really was. Can you imagine? The harlot mother with the Spanish tan turning up after twelve years, in some miserable fucking crematorium in Seven Sisters. And then seeing Con, for the first time, this big lad, so handsome, so sad, so good. And everyone looking at me, pointing, that’s her, that’s Con’s mum, that’s Edie’s girl, the one who ran away to Spain and didn’t give a fuck.’ She shuddered. ‘Worst day of my life. But then’ – a small smile lit her face – ‘after that, once my mum
was buried and gone and everyone had stopped staring, when it was just me and Con sitting in the pub after, you know what? It was perfect. He didn’t judge me. He didn’t guilt-trip me. He just comforted me, you know, because my mum was dead. He blew me away, just totally blew me away.’

‘So, why did you leave again? Why did you go to Turkey?’

She shrugged and sighed. ‘Shit. I don’t know. We’d just got this flat together, me and Con, a really fancy place in Leyton. I went for the most expensive place I could find, no expense spared. I really wanted to show Con that I was serious about us, about our relationship. I was stupid, really. I thought that we were going to have this
amazing
experience, that we were going to go out together all the time, get to know each other, just kind of lose ourselves in each other, really. And then when I realized that he had his own life, his own friends, that he wasn’t going to make me the centre of his world, I got the hump, I suppose. Thought fuck you. And did what I always did. Ran away. It was only supposed to be a holiday, but then I met Akhun and suddenly I was the centre of someone’s world and I thought, well, Con doesn’t need me, nobody needs me. So I stayed. I didn’t think he’d miss me. It didn’t occur to me that he’d be kicked out of that flat. I just thought he’dbe fine. So when I came back and found out that he’d been living rough – oh, my God, I wanted to slit my own wrists. I’ve never felt so awful in my life, just thinking of my poor beautiful boy, in a doorway, nowhere to call home.
I keep myself awake at night a lot over that, I can tell you. And I will never, ever leave him again, that’s for sure.’

‘Well, yes, I can see how you feel, but surely at some point a mother has to let their child…
do their own thing
.’

‘Well, if Con wants to get rid of me, he’ll have to ask. Otherwise, I’m stuck like glue. Me and men – we’re done. There’s only one man in my life now, and that’s Con.’

‘Oh,’ said Toby. ‘I’m not entirely sure…’

‘What?’

‘Well, you’re very young still. And you’re very good-looking. It seems a shame to cut yourself off from the, you know, the possibility of…
love
.’

‘Nah,’ she shook her head, ‘I’ve tried love and it sucks. Big time. The only love that counts is the love you have for your children. Anything else is just hot air.’

They downed the rest of their tequilas and sat in contemplative silence for a moment. And then the door bell rang.

Toby pulled himself heavily to his feet. He was horribly drunk. The floor felt like sponge beneath his feet and cardboard boxes kept veering away from the walls and into his path. He banged his toe against the corner of the stairs and couldn’t remember which way to turn the handle to open the front door. It took him a minute or two to place the man standing on his doorstep with a suitcase and bleeding nose. He knew he looked
familiar, but he needed more information to identify him.

‘Hello, Toby,’ said the man.

‘Hello, er…’

‘Tim. Remember? Ruby’s friend. Is she here?’

‘God. I don’t know. I’ve been… I haven’t really been paying attention. She might be. Let me check.’ He stood at the foot of the stairs. ‘RUBY! RUBY!’

She appeared on the landing, clutching a cigarette and looking annoyed.

‘What?’

‘Your friend’s here.’

‘What friend?’

‘Er…’ Toby sighed. He’d forgotten already. ‘Sorry, what’s your name again?’

‘Tim,’ hissed the man, dabbing some blood from his nose.

‘TIM!’

‘What?!’ cried Ruby. ‘Oh, God.’

Toby smiled apologetically at Tim. ‘She’s just coming. Do you want to…?’ He held the door open for him. ‘I’m drunk, I’m afraid. I hasten to add that I rarely get drunk. Particularly not on a Monday night. But we’ve just buried the cat, you know, and one thing led to another and, aaaah, here she is…’

‘Oh, my God, Tim. What happened to your nose?’

‘Sophie.’

‘What?’

‘Sophie hit me.’

‘She
hit
you? Jesus. Why?’

‘Because I told her about you.’

‘Oh, fuck. Tim.’

‘And I’ve left her. Look.’ He pointed at his silver Samsonite. ‘I’ve left her, Ruby. I’m free.’

55

As Leah approached her front door that night, a taxi stopped in the road and a man got out. He hauled a large suitcase out behind him and wheeled it along the pavement and up the stairs of the Peacock House. Leah watched from the other side of the road, wondering who he was and what he was doing. It occurred to her that maybe it was Toby’s father, but he looked too young. And, besides, Toby’s father wasn’t due until next month. She stood and waited for someone to come to the door of the house. It was Toby. He looked flushed and a bit unsteady. She couldn’t hear what was being said, but it seemed that the man was a stranger to Toby. Eventually, Toby held open the door, and the man walked in. And then the door closed again.

Leah stared at the house for a moment or two. Her skin was crawling with curiosity. Who was that man? Why did he have a suitcase? Whose friend was he? She’d completely lost touch with the comings and goings in the Peacock House since Amitabh had moved back in. But now she had the perfect reason to catch up. Jack’s invitation.

She crossed the road and knocked on the door. Toby opened it. It was clear, now that she was in close proximity to him, that he was extremely drunk.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ he said, ‘Leah. How totally lovely to see you.’

‘It’s been a while.’

‘I know. It has. Entirely my fault.’

‘No. Mine. I’m sorry. I’ve been meaning to come over for days now…’

‘Well,’ Toby smiled, ‘you’re here now. And you find me somewhat drunk, I’m afraid. Melinda and I have been having a wake.’

‘Oh, no. Who for?’

‘For Boris. Little Borissy Boris. No longer with us, sadly. But happily, too. If you believe in angels. Do you believe in angels, Leah?’

Leah smiled. Toby was funny when he was drunk. ‘No,’ she said, ‘I don’t. But apparently you only start believing in angels when someone you love has died. Do you believe in angels?’

Toby shook his head. ‘No,’ he said, ‘no. Especially not cat angels.’

‘What about spirits?’

‘No. No spirits. Except, maybe tequila. Would you like one?’

Leah blinked at him.

‘No. I suppose that’s not really a particularly tempting offer, at seven o’clock on a Monday night.’

Toby leaned against the doorframe and smiled at Leah. She smiled back at him. ‘Do you think I should shave off all my hair?’ he said, rubbing his hands over his unruly mass of curls.