At Home With The Templetons (23 page)

‘Shrivel up and die? Now, get off the phone and go and see your son.’

Nina thought about ringing the Templetons first, before she realised she would be asking permission to come and see her own son. She went to the kitchen, found a packet of Tom’s favourite biscuits, his favourite soft drink. She got a clean pair of his pyjamas. Five minutes later she was knocking at the front door of Templeton Hall.

Audrey answered the door without a word. She was still wearing the sunglasses.

Nina smiled and held up the bag. ‘I just thought I’d drop these in for Tom.’

Audrey turned away. Nina had no choice but to follow her silently down the hallway.

She was relieved to see that when the Hall wasn’t on show, it was as cluttered as any normal family house. There were football boots beside the grand staircase, newspapers on the dining room table, and what was clearly the week’s clean washing half sorted on one of the side cupboards. The sight relaxed Nina a little. As they came into the kitchen, Gracie saw her first. ‘Nina! Now everything’s perfect!’

Nina glanced around. There were balloons in every corner and streamers hanging from the ceiling. The large table was covered in glasses, soft drink, sandwiches. It was a celebration party. The Templetons were giving Tom the party she should have given him.

Tom didn’t acknowledge her. He was at the head of the table, still in his cricket clothes, his hair in spikes. Spencer was sitting beside him. Would Tom have told Spencer about his father? Nina wondered. Had he told all the Templetons?

‘I brought these for you, Tom,’ she said, holding out the biscuits and drink. When he still didn’t look at her, she tried her hardest to find an even cheerier voice, suddenly unable to bear how much she had hurt him. ‘Your favourites.’ ‘This is a big mistake, Nina,’ Henry Templeton said then, coming over and casually greeting her with a kiss to her cheek, perfect host style. ‘We shouldn’t be celebrating Tom’s success. We should scupper him while we have the chance, while he’s still young. In years to come, when he’s playing for Australia and mowing down England’s finest batsmen, we’ll know it’s all our fault. Isn’t that right, Tom?’ ‘One day, maybe,’ Tom said shyly.

‘Of course it will happen, Tom,’ she said, hating the too bright tone in her voice. She wanted him to get up and say, ‘I’m glad you’re here too, Mum.’ He didn’t.

Eleanor seemed to sense something was amiss. ‘Nina, please have a seat. I was about to ring you to invite you over to eat with us. You’ve saved me a phone call.’

Nina took a seat beside Audrey, across from Gracie who was now humming happily under her breath as she arranged Nina’s biscuits on a large and valuable-looking platter. Spencer was talking to Tom about the match, gazing at him in something like awe. There was no sign of Hope, Nina was glad to see.

There was noisy chatter for the next few minutes, everyone helping themselves to something to eat, Gracie keeping a special eye on her, Nina was touched to notice.

‘Audrey knows you know what happened to her, by the way,’ she said in a loud whisper, as she sat beside Nina. ‘So please don’t feel shy about mentioning it. And just ignore her sunglasses. She’s been crying so much, they’re to hide her puffy eyes.’

Nina took the hint. ‘I’m sorry, Audrey,’ she said, turning to the young woman. ‘I’ve heard stage fright is an awful thing. So many …

,

Audrey just crossed her arms and studiously turned away. Gracie smiled. ‘It’s all right, Audrey. We can talk about this in front of Nina. She’s almost family.’

Tom and Spencer stood up then. ‘Mum, will you excuse us?’ Spencer said to Eleanor.

‘Where are you going?’ Eleanor said.

‘Tom, have you had enough to eat?’ Nina asked.

They’d spoken at the same time. They looked at each other and smiled.

‘Sorry,’ Nina said. ‘Force of habit. It’s your house, your rules.’ Eleanor turned to the boys. ‘Yes, you’re both excused. Where are you going?’

They both shrugged at exactly the same time. Everyone laughed.

‘Twins, separated at birth,’ Henry said with a grin.

Nina forced herself not to watch Tom as he left the room, stopped herself from following him to say sorry again. She focused instead on trying to look calm and relaxed, as if sitting here at a party with the Templetons was something she did every day.

‘You must have been so proud today, Nina,’ Eleanor said. ‘He’s so talented. My cousins in England were great bowlers. I suffered through many games myself when I was younger, but they never had the energy Tom has. Was his father a good cricketer? It often runs in families, doesn’t it?’

Nina glanced back and forth between Gracie and Eleanor. Did Eleanor know? Had Gracie told her? It was as if Gracie knew what she was thinking.

‘I haven’t told them about your husband, Nina,’ she said. ‘I wanted to, but when I mentioned it to Tom last week he went so strange that I thought I better not tell anyone else.’ She suddenly went red and put her hand to her mouth. ‘Nina, I’m sorry. I told Tom. I’m so sorry. I forgot it was a secret.’

Eleanor was alarmed. ‘Gracie, what are you talking about?’ ‘It’s all right, Eleanor,’ Nina said. ‘And it’s all right, Gracie.’ The words she was about to say still felt foreign in her mouth but it was important to repeat them now. She tried to buy herself some time, to think of the best way to do it. ‘My husband was a good sportsman, Eleanor, yes. He played football rather than cricket, but he was very fit.’

‘Was? Are you divorced?’ Henry said. ‘If you’ll excuse me being so curious.’

Nina took a breath. ‘No, I’m not, Henry. I’m a widow. Tom’s father, my husband, was killed in a car accident.’

‘Just a few hours before Tom was born,’ Gracie added softly. ‘Tom never met him.’

‘Gracie!’ Eleanor said again. ‘Nina, I’m so sorry. I didn’t realise. I wouldn’t have asked.’

‘It’s all right.’ It was. It was actually easier to say it than to invent a tale, to try to step gingerly between truth and make-believe ‘Nick was killed on his way to the hospital.’

‘Oh, Nina.’ Eleanor’s eyes filled with tears.

Nina wouldn’t cry again. She wouldn’t. Not here, not now, in front of the Templetons. Not when there was a chance that Tom would come in to find her, here, ruining his alternative life as well. She stood up suddenly. ‘I should go.’

‘Nina, no.’ Henry reached across and touched her arm: ‘You can’t. It’s too sad for you to be on your own. A day like today, of course you’d have loved Tom’s father to be there to celebrate with you.’ He stood up. ‘I believe this calls for a toast, to you and to Tom. Not only are you a woman of courage and fortitude, but you have a son to be proud of and we’re honoured to know you both. Eleanor, please, fill the glasses.’

‘What a great idea,’ a voice from the doorway said, too loudly. ‘Make mine a double.’

They all turned. Hope was there, swaying. As they watched, she slowly fell forward.

? don’t care that she was drunk,’ Tom said. Moments after Hope’s sudden arrival and collapse, a hurried conversation between Nina and Eleanor led to her calling Tom in from playing with Spencer. They were now driving home and Tom was extremely unhappy about it. ‘Why did we have to leave? Spencer sees her like that all the time.’

‘Spencer’s her nephew. It’s better we left, if Hope’s in one of her moods.’

‘It’s not a mood. She’s just drunk. She does a few bad things, then she just falls asleep. You don’t have to hide me from it. I’ve seen you drink.’

‘You’ve seen me have a few glasses of wine, not collapse like that, or climb out on the roof like Hope does.’

‘Spencer said it’s great up there. We’re going to try -‘ Tom stopped whatever it was he was about to say. ‘Forget it. Thanks for spoiling everything again.’

Nina pulled the car into the side of the road. She’d planned to delay this conversation until they were home again, but she had to do it now. She turned towards him, filled with a sudden fury herself, determined to speak, determined to ignore the fact he was staring out the window and she was speaking only to his profile. ‘Tom, I am so sorry and I am so proud and I love you so much and it’s breaking my heart that I’ve upset you, that you found out the truth about your dad’s death the way you did, from Gracie and not from me. But I want you to understand why I did it.’

‘You lied to me.’

‘Yes, I did. Because I wanted to protect you.’ ‘From what? The truth?’

‘Yes, Tom. The truth. Because I’ve always hated the truth. I’ve always hated the fact that your dad didn’t meet you, that he never knew what a beautiful son he helped make, what a great kid you are. I hate it every day that he isn’t here with us, watching you grow, enjoying every minute of you the way I do. I didn’t want you to ever think for a minute that your dad hadn’t had a chance to hold you, to kiss you, to tell you how much he loved you. So I made up a different story. What I thought was a better story.’

‘You said he was there when I was born.’

‘And he was. I still believe that. If it was possible for him to be there, I know he would have been. In spirit, in whatever way he could.’

‘I don’t believe in ghosts.’

‘In whatever way possible, Tom, your father was there. He wanted you so much and loved you so much, as much as I love you, every single day. Please, Tom. Please forgive me.’

A shrug.

That hurt, more than anything he could have said to her. She wanted to shout at him then, to tell him to stop picking up Spencer Templeton’s habits, to stop going to Templeton Hall, to stop making it so obvious that he preferred life with the Templetons than his lonely life with her, without his dad and without any brothers or sisters. Did he think she didn’t realise he should have had a different life? A better life than the one she’d been able to give him?

She managed to stop the words but she couldn’t stop the tears. To Tom’s

obvious horror, she was suddenly crying. She tried to stop the tears, but it was impossible. Her whole body ached with the hurt.

He turned towards her then. ‘Mum, don’t. Please don’t.’

She could see he was upset now too, that he needed comforting as well, but there was no stopping her own feelings now, all the anger, the hiding, the guilt of lying to him spilling up and out of her, the sound of her sobs filling the car. She tried to speak, tried to explain to Tom all over again, but it was as if she’d run out of words. All she seemed to have now were tears.

Tom reached over to her, reached for her hand. ‘Mum, I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’ve been mean to you today. Please, stop crying.’ That stopped her. She took a shuddering breath, wiped her eyes, tried to fix it all. ‘Tom, you weren’t mean. You weren’t. I deserved it. I should have told you years ago. I should have told everyone before now. Let you tell people whatever you wanted to tell them. It’s my own fault.’

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘It is. I wanted you to have a perfect life, Tom. The best you could.’ Out it all came. All the plans she and Nick had made, the four children, going into business together. An idea, a dream they’d had, that when their kids were still under ten, they would buy a campervan, take a year off work and school and simply travel around Australia together. She talked about the day she’d found out she was pregnant with Tom, how thrilled they’d been. She talked about how they’d decided they didn’t want to find out if he was a boy or a girl. She told him about Nick driving her at snail’s pace to the hospital, how excited he’d been, how happy. How loved Tom had been before he was born. How loved he was now.

They were both quiet for a long moment afterwards, Nina’s shuddering breaths the only sound in the car.

It was Tom who broke the silence, as he turned in his seat again and looked at her. Directly at her, for the first time that day. ‘I took five wickets today, Mum. It’s a school record. Five of them.’

Her tears came again then, different tears, soothing this time. ‘You sure did, Tom.’ She pulled him into her arms and he wrapped his arms back around her. ‘My wonderful, clever Tom. Five fantastic wickets.’

Back at Templeton Hall, as far as Gracie could tell, things were going from bad to worse.

It was all Hope’s fault. The fun had ended the moment she appeared in the doorway, muttered something about a double something, and then collapsed. There’d been such a fuss then, everyone leaping up from the table, shouting and talking across each other, before Hope woke up again and let Gracie’s dad half drag her across to the chair at the end of the table. Barely a minute later, Nina went out into the hall and called Tom, and suddenly everyone was saying goodbye and it was just the family left in the kitchen.

Now, as her parents still fussed over Hope, who at least was sitting up again, Gracie slipped silently away from the table and into the furthest corner of the kitchen to take down the balloons. It kept her busy, and out of her parents’ sight, which hopefully meant they would talk to Hope in an adult way, forgetting she was there, listening. She noticed that Audrey had also moved away from the table to the chair by the stove. Audrey had got very good at sitting still, so that you sometimes didn’t notice she was there. Gracie had tried to stay still herself for an hour one day but it had proved impossible.

Eleanor was furious at Hope. Gracie had never heard her talk to her sister like that.

‘How dare you, Hope! You promised! That was the deal. You could come back here if you didn’t drink any more and you respected our family life. Don’t you think I have enough on my plate, we have enough on our plate, without having to worry about you? Have you even noticed the mess we are all in? Charlotte refusing to come home while you’re here. The bills coming in without any way to pay them. Worry after worry, and this is how you help? This is how you break your promise?’

In the corner, Gracie stopped taking down the balloons. She hated hearing her mother shouting but nor did she want to miss any of this. She watched as her aunt straightened in her seat, lifted her head and then, very strangely and much too loudly, started to laugh.

‘What a speech, Eleanor,’ she said, in a low, slurred voice, before laughing again, the high-pitched laugh that always made Gracie feel sick inside. ‘What an outburst. What passion. What horseshit.’