In Focus (2009) (9 page)

She got through the urgent stuff at work, then closed her office door and told Sandy to hold all calls. Taking a deep breath, she went on the Internet, hunting for Pete Newbury’s website, trying to find a phone number for him.

There wasn’t one. There was only an email address, but she didn’t intend to broadcast her personal details to whoever picked up his emails. A man so popular wouldn’t be doing that for himself. She hadn’t expected to get a direct line to him but she had hoped to get through to a personal assistant at least.

Baffled, she sat considering what to do, then realized she had the perfect person to find out from: Edward.

Only, she didn’t want to tell him why she needed Pete’s phone number, and it didn’t seem fair to use him in that way. She really liked him. What would this do to their fragile new friendship?

Sandy knocked on the office door. ‘Sorry, but Mr Bateman is here.’

‘Oh, hell, I’d forgotten. Give me two minutes then show him in.’

She closed the website, tidied the papers on her desk and prepared to chat to one of their best clients, who had several apartment blocks for which Sherbright cleaned the public areas. Mal Bateman was a rather lonely older man who took her to lunch every couple of months and showed her photos of his grandchildren.

It always made her wish she had similar photos to show him.

Pete went round to see his mother, still feeling guilty about how he’d upset her on his show. She was entertaining a neighbour, but the woman didn’t stay long, thank goodness.

When the friend had left, he looked at the dark circles under his mother’s eyes in concern. ‘Not sleeping properly? I thought you’d got over your insomnia. What’s worrying you now? Whatever it is, I’m sure we can fix it.’

She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing worrying me, I’m just – not sleeping very well. It’s been a full moon. That always disturbs me.’

‘You’re sure there’s nothing worrying you?’

‘Of course not. How can there be? Look at the lovely home you found for me after your father died. I still can’t believe he made such poor investments as he got older. If it wasn’t for you, I’d be sleeping on the street.’

‘It wasn’t Dad’s fault. His memory was starting to fail. I’m glad he didn’t live long enough to get full-blown Alzheimer’s. Besides, I was happy to help, you know I was. I’m your son.’

Her eyes filled with tears and she nodded. ‘I couldn’t ask for a better son, either.’

He gave her a big hug. ‘Mum, you’re just an old softie.’

She dabbed at her eyes. ‘So, how are the ratings on your show going?’

‘They’re rising. Did you see the last show?’

She nodded. ‘With Cassadee.’

‘Great viewing, wasn’t it?’

She didn’t answer for a few seconds, then said slowly, ‘It showed people who were hurting. Do viewers really enjoy that? And Edward said the uncle committed suicide. Pete – are you sure you should go on with this segment?’

‘Human emotion makes good television. Viewers love it. I can’t wait to see the response we get for our opera singer.’

‘But if it’s going to upset people to that extent . . .’

‘You leave me to worry about that, Mum.’

She let the subject drop and they chatted for a while. He knew something was still worrying her, though he couldn’t think what. The trouble was, he’d never been able to make her tell him something if she didn’t want to. She was a stubborn old bat, but he loved her dearly. A man couldn’t ask for a more caring mother.

Early that Wednesday morning, after a disturbed night, Jo left Mikey with Ghita earlier than usual and took a bus to where her mother lived, still in the building where she’d once lived herself. How she’d hated that flat! Now she’d be deliriously happy if she could give Mikey a home half as good as this. The block of flats had been upgraded since she moved out and the whole district had gone upmarket, but nothing seemed to have changed drastically.

Could she do it? Could she ask her mother to let her come back here for a while? Would her mother agree to take her and Mikey in until they could find somewhere of their own?

Only one way to find out.

She walked slowly away and took out her mobile phone, dialling the familiar number. ‘Mum? It’s me.’

‘Jo. How wonderful to hear from you. Are you well?’

‘Very. Look – I reckon we should meet one day, catch up properly.’

‘I can’t think of anything I’d like more.’

‘How about meeting at the little park where I used to play when I was a kid?’

‘They’ve turned it into a shopping centre.’

‘Oh. I never did go back there.’

‘You could – come here, to the flat.’

‘Um, not yet. Too many memories.’

‘Don’t hang up. Jo,
please
don’t hang up. We’ll find somewhere else to meet.’

Jo was startled to hear her strong, efficient mother getting so emotional. She remembered the days when her mother would go wooden-faced, giving short answers, hiding her feelings behind a barrier. Guilt flooded through her. This emotional fragility was all her fault. Could she cope with that sort of emotion? She’d have to. She’d lain awake racking her brain and had found no solution to her current problems, except asking her mother for help.

‘How about the big park on Crayson Street, Mum? We could meet near the children’s playground.’

‘Fine. When.’

‘Can you get there about six o’clock tonight? I have to work during the day.’

‘Yes. Oh, Jo, you won’t change your mind, will you?’

‘No, Mum. I’ll be there. I promise. And if anything crops up, I’ll ring and fix a new meeting time. I’m a lot more reliable than I used to be. Give me your mobile number . . . Got it. I have to go now.’

She caught a bus back to work. The difference between where her mum lived and where she lived had hit her in the guts. No underground parking for her, even if she’d had a car. Just a pot-holed parking area full of old cars and overflowing rubbish bins. The narrow strip of garden hadn’t been tended for years and wind-blown debris collected in the corners. She and Ghita picked it up and put it in the bins every now and then. No one else bothered.

Let’s face it, her place was a slum. If she worked hard, if her mother helped just a little, Mikey wouldn’t have to grow up in places like these. And maybe her mother wouldn’t sound so desperate.

Jo shook her head at her own stupidity. When she ran away from home, she’d not really thought how deeply it’d upset her mother. She hadn’t thought clearly about anything in those days, too busy rebelling against her parents and school, against the whole world in fact. And too full of raging hormones. Now that she was a mother herself, she understood a lot more about life and was learning to consider others. Well, she tried to. Didn’t always succeed.

What if Mikey ran away when he was a teenager? How would she feel then? Upset big time, that’s how. The mere thought of it hurt.

But could she cope with all the love she could hear in her mother’s voice these days? She smiled wryly. Not to mention all that tidiness.

She didn’t know. But whatever she did for herself and Mikey, she had to sort out something for Ghita as well. How her family could blame Ghita for getting raped, Jo would never understand. Her friend still worried that her father or brothers might come after her. She’d grown up in such a sheltered environment she was nervous of many facets of daily life, though she tried to hide it.

But if it wasn’t for Ghita, Jo would be dead, and you didn’t abandon someone who’d saved your life, someone you now loved dearly.

Jo would do anything to keep her son safe and look after her friend, but she’d try not to hurt her mother again, she promised herself.

Beth left the office early and was at the park by ten to six, terrified of being late and missing Jo. She found a bench near the children’s playground and sat down, then changed her mind and began to walk up and down, so that she could see people coming from every direction.

Jo didn’t arrive until five past six, by which time Beth was beginning to think her daughter had changed her mind.

Then a woman appeared in the distance, stopped at the far side of the playground, staring, before slowly making her way towards Beth. She too had fair hair, long and tied back. Her clothes were clean but worn, and surely she was taller?

She stopped in front of Beth, who ached to touch her but didn’t dare. She was terrified if she did, Jo might pull back, walk away even. ‘I’ve wondered so often what you looked like now,’ she managed.

Jo grimaced. ‘Older.’

‘And not so—’ She hesitated, not wishing to offend.

‘Not so out to shock people with what I wear. I’ve grown up a lot, Mum.’

‘Shall we go and have a coffee? There’s a café quite close. Um – my treat.’

‘Yes, all right. That’d be nice.’

‘It’s this way.’ Beth turned and began to walk. ‘Goodness, you’re taller than me now.’

‘I take after Dad’s side of the family there. How is he?’

‘All right, I think. I’ve not heard from him for a while. Do you – keep in touch with him at all?’

‘No. I don’t suppose he misses me.’

‘He does. He emails every now and then, mentions you, wonders how you are.’

‘Does he really?’

‘He has the same email address.’

Jo didn’t say anything, so it was fortunate they arrived at the café. Beth led the way into a corner where they’d be fairly private. ‘Would you like something to eat as well?’

‘No. Thanks. Just a long flat white, please.’

The silence went on, then in desperation Beth blurted out the truth. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’m terrified of driving you away again.’ Her hands were shaking and she put them into her lap to try and hide that.

‘You didn’t drive me away before. I ran. I was out of control in those days – out of touch with reality, full of raging hormones. Oh, Mum, don’t cry!’ Jo reached out and patted Beth’s hand, then pulled back quickly.

‘I promised myself I wouldn’t cry, but I’m so
glad
to see you. You’ll understand when you have children.’ She made a huge effort, mopped her eyes and blew her nose. ‘You – um, look well. Tell me about your life.’

Jo stared down at the table, drawing lines along the grain of the wood and back with one fingertip.

Beth kept silent, afraid of preventing a confidence by saying the wrong thing.

‘I understand now how you must have felt when I ran away,’ Jo said at last. ‘You see – I’ve got a son.’

‘
A son?
I’m a grandmother?’ The room seemed to whirl round Beth and other people’s voices echoed as if at the other end of a long tunnel.

‘Are you all right? Mum? Say something.’

‘I was – surprised. I never expected. Oh, how wonderful!’ She reached out for her daughter’s hand. ‘Can I meet him? What’s he called? How old is he?’

‘Calm down. I’ll tell you everything.’ But she was smiling.

Beth put one hand to her forehead. ‘Sorry. I feel a bit dizzy. I don’t think I ate any lunch.’

Jo looked at her in concern. ‘You’re as white as a sheet and I’m sure you weren’t this thin before.’

‘I don’t seem to get very hungry these days.’

Jo laughed suddenly. ‘It’s usually mothers who have to nag their daughters to eat. Looks like I’m the odd one out, as usual. Let’s get a piece of cake each, eh? And if you promise to eat all yours up, I’ll tell you about Mikey.’

‘Mikey.’

‘Short for Michael. I called him after Grandpop.’

Beth nodded. Mikey. She had a grandson called Mikey. ‘You choose what to eat, but it’s still my treat.’

Jo got up and went to the display of cakes, pointing to two and coming back just as their coffees arrived. The cakes were brought over soon after, huge pieces.

Beth stared at hers, feeling sick at the mere thought of eating.

‘Geez, Mum, are you anorexic or something? You’re looking at that lovely torte as if it’s poisoned. Eat it, already!’

Beth picked up the fork and forced a mouthful down, then another, aware of her daughter watching her. Halfway through, she laid the fork on the plate and pushed it away. ‘I can’t eat any more.’ When she looked at Jo’s plate it was nearly empty. ‘Do you want the rest of mine as well?’

‘Well, it’ll only go to waste and I’ve learned not to waste anything.’

‘Are you eating properly? You’re not short of money?’

‘Yeah, Mum, I’m eating. I have a regular job, but it doesn’t pay well, so I have to be careful. I can’t afford luxury cakes like these, so I’m making the most of them now.’ She reached into her shoulder bag and pulled out an envelope. ‘Thought you might like a photo of Mikey. He’s three, by the way.’

Beth opened the envelope and stared at a small, solemn little boy, who looked very like her brother had at that age. ‘He looks well cared for, loved. Your grandmother always says you can tell by their expressions if children are loved.’

‘I do love him to pieces and I do my best to look after him properly. Having him made me grow up fast.’

‘And the father?’

‘Couldn’t get away quickly enough when he found I was having a baby. Good riddance to him. I registered Mikey as “
father unknown
”.’ She looked up at the clock on the wall, then down at her watch.

Beth prayed she’d not leave yet.

Jo caught her glance and shook her head. ‘I’m not rushing away, but I do have to keep an eye on the time. Look, I’m worried about you. Will you promise to eat properly from now on?’

‘Yes.’ She laughed. ‘But not rich cream cakes. Will you tell me more about your life?’

‘I work in the local supermarket. I’m full-time but I do night shifts stacking shelves sometimes, for extra money. My friend next door looks after Mikey. I couldn’t manage without Ghita. She’s like a sister to me now.’

‘I’d love to meet her.’

‘She has a son too. The boys are, like, best friends. Brothers couldn’t be closer. The work’s boring, but I’m a permanent employee and that’s worth a lot these days.’