In Focus (2009) (11 page)

‘Yes. And Nat . . . thank you for coming.’

‘I’ll always be there for you, Linda.’

He didn’t seem to need an answer, just drove off, weaving carefully in and out of the traffic.

Always be there
, she thought. No one could promise that.

At her house, she remembered the back door key she’d hidden in the garden shed. ‘It’s in the—’

‘Don’t tell me.’ He went into the shed and came out again a minute later holding the key. ‘Not a safe place to leave it.’

‘But I’d hidden it. How did you know where to look?’

‘There are a few rather obvious places where people hide keys.’ He looked at the back of her house. ‘A child could break into this place. We have to do something about that, Linda.’

When they were inside, he insisted on making her a cup of sweet coffee, even though she never took sugar. She couldn’t raise the energy to protest because it felt wonderful to be looked after and she was still a bit wobbly.

‘Now,’ he said, ‘if you’ll find those spare car keys I’ll have them couriered to Donny and he can fetch your car. Then I’ll have a look at your house locks. They’re all old. You really should have updated your security. I could break in myself in two minutes flat – and without smashing a window.’

She shivered.

He came to put an arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere till I’m sure you’re safe.’

‘You’re a juggernaut,’ she teased, trying to lighten the atmosphere.

‘You’ve called me that a few times over the years. How long have you been working for me?’

‘Five years, no, six.’

‘Penny was already ill when you took her place. What a long time ago that seems now!’

‘You must miss her.’

‘I miss the old Penny, not the poor frail creature she became. I never believed in a “merciful release” till she was in the final stages of that damned cancer.’ He shook his head as if to clear it of memories and smiled at her. ‘How about another cup of coffee?’

‘I’ll make you one, but if I drink any more I’ll not sleep tonight.’

‘I’m a light sleeper, but I sleep soundly. I don’t think anyone could break into my house without waking me. Should I call your daughter now?’

‘No, she’s got a date tonight. She goes out so rarely, I don’t want to spoil it for her. She’s too young to be on her own.’

‘So are you.’

‘I’m sixty-five.’

He grinned. ‘A mere youngster.’

‘You’re only sixty.’

‘It’s a good age to be.’ He made another cup of coffee for himself with his usual efficiency. ‘You wouldn’t have any biscuits, would you? I didn’t manage to finish my lunch.’

‘Home-made cake any good?’

‘I’d kill for it.’

Everything seemed so blessedly normal, chatting to him, being complimented on her cake, that she relaxed still further.

‘I’m staying here overnight,’ he said afterwards. ‘Or else you can come to my place. The thief’s got your keys and I can’t get anyone to come out and change all your locks till tomorrow morning.’

She opened her mouth to protest, but couldn’t. The mere thought of being here on her own while someone else out there had her keys made her shiver.

‘Thank you, Nat. I appreciate that. I’ve got a spare bedroom.’

‘We can send out for some take-away.’

‘Nonsense. I’ll cook you a meal.’

He beamed at her. ‘That’d be great. I really miss home cooking. I can’t usually be bothered after a hard day’s work.’

He seemed different from the busy, loud-voiced Nat she knew at work, calmer, gentler. And she loved cooking for people.

Somehow, the quiet meal and the pleasant conversation made the shock of the attack recede. And his solid, comforting presence was . . . just what she needed.

Edward rang Beth’s doorbell exactly one minute before the appointed time on Friday and she told him on the intercom that she’d be straight down. She took a last look at herself in the mirror. The lilac skirt looked good and her new hairstyle really suited her. Renée was right.

But black was still the most serviceable colour to wear to work, whatever her friend said.

She opened the front door of the flats and accepted a kiss on her cheek. Only it didn’t feel as cursory as the usual kissy-kissy ritual and she forgot to breathe for a few seconds. Edward paused with his head just a few centimetres away from her face, frowning at her as if puzzled.

The air between them seemed charged with undercurrents and for a moment she had an urge to pull his face towards hers and give him a proper kiss instead of this meaningless air kissing. That was so unlike her she couldn’t move for a moment or two.

In the end, to her relief, he broke the impasse, straightening up and clearing his throat. ‘I’ve – um, got a taxi waiting, and I’ll bring you back in one because I like to have a glass or two of wine with a meal. Do you mind?’

‘Not at all. I could have driven us, though, because I’m not a big drinker. Alcohol doesn’t agree with me.’

‘Another time, perhaps.’

They made small talk in the taxi, not hard to do with him, and by the time they arrived at the restaurant, she’d relaxed considerably. Indeed, he was one of the easiest people to talk to that she’d ever met.

The whole evening went well until the moment she asked if he’d tell her how to contact his cousin.

Edward stiffened and drew back. ‘Why?’

‘I can’t tell you. It’s . . . very private, personal.’

‘It’s that damned
Who Am I?
segment, isn’t it?’

‘In a way.’

His voice grew scornful. ‘Have you lost all your childhood photos, too? Is that why you agreed to come out with me, to get to Pete so that you can go on the show?’

‘No! I agreed to come out with you because—’ She could feel herself growing hot, fumbling for words. ‘I thought we’d get on well.’

‘I thought so too. But I’m not giving you Pete’s phone number unless you tell me why.’

She shook her head. ‘It’d not be right. I need to tell him first. It’s about
his
childhood, you see.’

He snapped his fingers and the waiter who’d been hovering came forward. ‘The bill, please. We’re leaving.’

She sat motionless in sheer astonishment, then realized her mouth was open and stood up. She held her head high as she walked out, trying not to show how bitterly disappointed she was by Edward’s reaction.

When the taxi arrived, she barred his way into it. ‘I can go home on my own, if that’s how you feel. It’s stupid for you to come with me anyway. My place must be at least half an hour from yours.’

‘I took you out and I’ll damned well return you safely to your flat.’

He looked so fierce she slid into the vehicle without further protest. But they sat as far away from each other as they could.

At the flats, she didn’t wait for him to open the car door, but got out and ran for the entrance, zapping the lock and trying to shut the door in his face.

He came after her and held it open. She stared up at his angry face.

‘If you’ve something to write on, I’ll give you Pete’s office number,’ he said in a tight, fierce voice.

‘Thank you.’ She fumbled in her handbag and found an old shopping receipt.

When he’d written the number he turned away, but she grabbed his arm. ‘Just for the record, I did
not
accept your invitation for tonight in order to get Pete’s phone number. I didn’t even know I’d need it then. Something cropped up after I’d agreed, something very important.’

He stared at her, his face expressionless, then nodded, stepped backwards and returned to the taxi.

She watched it pull away, then went up to her flat, feeling bitterly disappointed. Things never went right when she met a guy. Maybe it would be better to stick with male friends like Daniel and her girl friends. Less heartache that way.

Heartache? She tossed her head at the mere idea. She wasn’t breaking her heart over Edward Newbury, a guy she’d met twice by chance and dated once. She was a capable businesswoman and she didn’t
need
romance in her life.

She put the receipt with the phone number written on it on the kitchen surface, weighting it down with her phone index. She hoped this would be worth losing Edward’s goodwill for. What if her brother didn’t want to know them? How would her mother feel then? How would Beth feel?

Relationships were far too complicated and she wasn’t good at them, as she’d well and truly proved with her daughter, and just proved again with Edward.

Jo got home from work to find that Ghita had prepared them a meal. They did this for each other sometimes. It was all very pleasant. The two little boys were watching the Wiggles on TV, jumping up and dancing sometimes, laughing and singing tunelessly with the music.

They fed and bathed the boys first, moving from one flat to the other, then put them to bed together, which led to a lot of giggling.

After that Ghita served the meal, wonderful food, several plates of it. Nothing expensive but lovingly prepared and delicious.

‘I can’t eat any more,’ Jo said at last. ‘You could open a restaurant, you’re such a good cook.’

‘I’d like to do that, but where would I get the money? Or the courage?’ She laughed softly at herself.

There was a knock on the door.

Ghita froze. ‘No one ever comes here at night.’

‘Shall I answer it?’

‘No. Don’t do anything. They’ll go away.’

‘They can see someone is at home and hear the TV.’ Jo didn’t wait, but went to open the door.

A man stood there, his black hair grizzled at the temples, his eyes dark and fierce.

There was a gasp from behind Jo. ‘Father!’

‘Can I come in?’

‘Yes, of course.’

He took off his shoes and came inside.

Jo went to stand beside Ghita, feeling her friend trembling. She scowled at the visitor.

He not only came inside, but went to look in the bedroom, then investigated the small kitchen, before coming back to his daughter. ‘No man in your life?’

She shook her head. ‘No. There never was and hasn’t been – since. This is my neighbour, Jo. Our sons play together.’

He went back to stare into the bedroom at the two little boys lying peacefully among a pile of soft toys. ‘Kaleel looks like your brother did as a child,’ he muttered.

He stood there looking at the boys for so long, Jo was able to whisper, ‘Do you want me to leave?’

‘No. Please stay.’

Mr Haddad closed the door of the bedroom and studied Ghita. ‘You look well.’

‘I am well.’

‘How do you live?’

‘Social security, and I look after Jo’s boy when she’s at work to earn a little extra money. Will you take a cup of coffee?’

‘Not this time.’

Jo’s heart went out to her friend, who was looking white and shaken.

The father came across, hesitated, then placed one hand on Ghita’s shoulder for a moment. ‘It’s not right that a man doesn’t know his own grandson, however the child was created. Next time, I shall bring your mother. She weeps for you. And – we have decided to forgive you.’

Jo was furious and couldn’t hold the anger back. ‘Why do you have to forgive
her
? She didn’t ask to be attacked and raped. Ghita is the most gentle person I’ve ever met. She’d never, ever encourage a man to behave like that.’

He looked angry for a moment then his expression grew thoughtful. ‘You have a loyal friend here, daughter.’

‘Jo is like a sister to me now,’ Ghita said.

‘Hmm. Give me your phone number so that your mother can phone you to arrange a time.’

He went without kissing his daughter or saying goodbye to Jo.

When the door was locked behind him, Ghita collapsed on the couch in tears.

‘The brute!’ Jo said angrily. ‘Who does he think he is to blame you and forgive you?’

‘He’s my father. That’s how it is with us. Fathers are gods in their own homes. But I don’t care what he says as long as I can see my family again. I’ve missed my mother so much, and my older brother specially.’ She sobbed some more, with her friend patting her on the back.

Eventually she managed to stop and smiled mistily at Jo. ‘But you’re my family too, now. Thank you for defending me.’

Jo nodded, but the encounter had annoyed her. Ghita had been so pathetically grateful, and yet her father had still checked for himself that there was no man living with her before he proceeded any further. On the other hand, it had obviously been difficult for him to come and see her, but he’d done it, going against his upbringing, from what Ghita had told her.

Jo’s father hadn’t even replied to her emails. Too busy with his new young wife and children, probably.

Her mother had wanted her, though, had replied instantly and had wept over her today. The tears had reassured her in a back-to-front way.

When Ghita had calmed down, Jo took her sleeping son home and lay in her narrow bed next to his, thinking about life, how strange it was, how hard to do the right thing.

What did she want from the future? She didn’t know. She’d been too busy surviving to think far ahead. She wanted to look after Mikey, of course, and give him a decent life, but what were her dreams for herself? She couldn’t live only for him.

She smiled in the darkness, allowing herself a dream or two. She’d like to live somewhere better than this place, that was sure, and have a more interesting job than working in the local supermarket. The other women there were very friendly, though, and that made a big difference to any job.

She had to tread carefully now and not stuff things up with her mother. She was going to try hard to find a new flat without asking for her mother’s help. If she could move out of this place before she invited her mother round to see Mikey, she’d not feel so ashamed of where she lived.

Staring at the lighted numbers of her bedside clock-radio, she was surprised to find it was after midnight. Pushing her worries to one side, she started breathing deeply, trying to form pretty cloud images in her mind, an old trick of hers. If she didn’t get some sleep she’d be dead on her feet at work.