Mothers & Daughters (19 page)

‘I've gathered.'

‘So I managed to find the main entrance, and it's not easy because it's such a big building, and all the while I was looking around to see if I could spot him but I couldn't. There were, I don't know, hundreds of children milling about, not always looking where they were going. I got to the secretary's desk but she was on the phone and I had to stand there and wait, all these kids streaming past me, laughing and yelling, and they're so loud I could barely think what I wanted to say. Then she finished the call, but there was another woman in front of me.

‘By the time she'd been dealt with, the place was quietening
down. I told the secretary I had Josh's boots and I needed to give them to him, and she looked up what room he was in and nabbed a lad going past to take me up there. Just as well she did because I'd never have found my way otherwise. I said to the boy, “It's like a rabbit warren, isn't it?” But he said you got used to it.

‘He showed me to a classroom and left me there, and I peeped through the glass and I could see Josh at the back, putting his books out on the table. He seemed all right. So I knocked on the door and the teacher, he was only young himself, said to come in, and I held the bag up and asked if I could have a word with Josh. I thought when Josh saw me he might get up and come over, and I could talk to him outside, in private. But he stayed where he was.'

David had this expression on his face as if to say, ‘I know how this story's going to end.'

‘I took the bag over and said, “Here's your boots,” and he just went, “Thanks.” I was trying to catch his eye but he wouldn't look at me. I couldn't stand there for ever, so I said, “OK?” And he said, “
Fine
.” Like that, quite determined. There was nothing I could do without making a fuss, although I did toy with the idea of speaking to the teacher. Then I thought I'd better have a chat with Josh first.'

‘What you don't want to do is make the situation worse,' said David.

‘No, that's what I was worried about. I haven't mentioned it to his mum yet for the same reason. She's hyper at the best of times.'

‘And what's Josh got to say on the matter?'

Over by the window, Matty's tower leaned, toppled, and scattered itself widely across the floor. ‘Uh-oh,' he said. ‘Cash!' Ian reached across and ruffled his hair.

‘I asked him this morning. He says it was nothing. Does it
sound like nothing to you? Do you think he's being bullied? Should I tell Laverne? He is lying, isn't he?'

‘Almost certainly he's lying,' said David, swilling his coffee round in its mug. ‘But I don't think you should interfere. Not yet, anyway.'

‘It's not interfering, it's helping someone who I think's in trouble.'

‘Boys have chased other boys since time began, Carol. It's what they do.'

‘Across busy roads, in front of cars? Imagine if – And then, I've been thinking: sometimes he tells me about this pupil the teacher picks on, and I think it's him. He tells it as though it's another boy, but it's him, I'm sure of it. So that teacher needs to be dealt with, because he's inflaming the situation, he's giving the bullies licence. It's abuse.'

David drained his cup and set it down decisively.

‘Wouldn't you say you've got enough on your plate just at the moment?'

All the fight and the fury went out of me, and I sagged. ‘You mean with the pond.'

I had no idea why I kept telling everyone about it. Laverne and Mrs Wynne, Moira and several customers at The Olive, the girls down the gym and the man who called for the Betterware catalogue had all been treated to the story of how I nearly drowned my grandson. I'd even gone so far as to ring Phil and pour out the tale to him.

‘To be honest,' said David. ‘I was thinking more—'

‘The next time you come, it'll be filled in, I promise. I've contacted a landscaping firm, and I'm going to have a word with the Ahernes at the back because they've got a pond and they could take my newts.'

‘I don't think you need go that far, Carol.' David stood up and wandered over to the French window. Rain was running
down the other side in torrents, creating a weird light, blurring the shapes into each other so that my garden was a fluid landscape of unnatural greens.

‘Oh, I do, I do. It'll break my heart to get rid of it, but I can't take the risk.'

‘Steel mesh would fix it.' David turned and bent to intercept Matty who was about to collide with his legs. He lifted his grandson off the ground, brought him round to face Ian, then propelled him back the way he'd come, in one neat action.

‘You mean a fence?' I asked.

‘No. A flat grid over the top. I've installed them in a couple of properties. There are regs about gauge, it's got to be rigid and secure. But I can give you the name of a company who'll fit you one. You don't have to lose your pond unless you want to.'

‘Really?' The news lifted my spirits hugely. ‘And they're definitely safe that way?'

‘RoSPA recommended.'

I thought again of the day Ian dug out my pond, how delighted I'd been then.

‘You've a solution for everything, haven't you?'

‘No, not quite everything. But a pond's nothing. Ponds can be sorted, like
that
.' He clicked his fingers, then we both looked at each other for a long bleak moment.

Over in the corner, father and son were sorting bricks into piles of different colours, or trying to. Matty was just making piles.

I said: ‘Would you believe I'd planned a picnic for this afternoon?'

‘Ah.'

‘Although Matty would probably like it, splashing about in a downpour. Toddlers do.'

‘Well, middle-aged people don't. Anyway, you don't want to spoil your new hairdo.'

I put my hand up to my fringe self-consciously.

‘It's very nice,' he said. ‘Here's an idea: couldn't you spread a picnic blanket out on the floor in here? Children don't really care what you do as long as you're doing it with them.'

‘Doesn't it get wearing, being so brilliant all the time?'

David rewarded me with a thin smile. ‘Actually, it's a trick I remember Jeanette pulling once when Ian was little. Do you want a hand putting your sausage rolls out?'

We left Matty and Ian now making a snake or a wall or a lying-down tower, and went into the kitchen to plate up.

Which is how Phil came to find us half an hour later: kneeling round one of my mother's tray cloths, sipping from plastic beakers, while Matty crumbled breadsticks down his front.

I read the look on Ian's face as the bell rang, and rang again. ‘She's in Manchester all day,' I said, as I scrambled to my feet. ‘She'd an appointment at the university.'

The men exchanged glances. I hurried out into the hall.

‘Carol?' said Phil when I opened the door, as though there was some doubt in his mind as to my identity. Water was dripping from the porch down the back of his coat; beyond him the street was a haze of rain.

‘What do you want?' I asked, hanging onto the doorframe and blocking the entrance.

‘I was passing. You seemed upset.'

‘When?'

‘On the phone.'

‘No.'

‘You were. About the pond, and Matty.'

‘I'm fine.'

‘Oh. Well. Good. I've a present for him, anyway.' Phil jiggled a plastic carrier at me.

Perhaps Matty had heard his name, because a few seconds later he appeared at my side. ‘Gappa,' he said.

‘Hello, mate,' said Phil, and squatted down so he was at Matty's level. ‘Fancy seeing you. Now, what do you think I've got in this bag, eh? Shall I come in and show you?'

I stepped back to allow him a foot of space.

‘Yeah?' he said, straightening up again. ‘Hey, Matt, what's in the bag?'

Zero response.

‘What do you reckon? An elephant? A bus?'

‘Oh, for goodness' sake.'

Matty had already lost interest and was wandering over towards the stair gate, so I took the bag off Phil and investigated for myself.

It was a cardboard box with the Lego symbol on the tab. Little pieces shifted inside as I turned it over. The front showed a red robot shooting death rays out of its fingers.

‘Bionicle,' said Phil. ‘Let him see.'

‘No.'

‘What?'

‘It's not suitable. It's too old.'

Phil gritted his teeth in exasperation. ‘You can build it
for him
, Carol. I know he can't manage the construction on his own, but every lad likes a robot.'

‘Yes, but it's got small parts. See?
Not suitable for children under 36 months. Choking hazard
.'

‘They only say that to cover themselves. Look at what Jaz had to play with when she was little. Your button tin, for one. Beads, plastic figures, pebbles. She never came to any harm, did she?'

‘That was when she was older. I'll put it away for him, Phil.'

Now Matty came toddling back over, reaching up to grasp Phil's trouser leg. ‘Gappa,' he said again.

‘I might have known there'd be something wrong with it,' said Phil. ‘My present. I'd have put money on that.'

‘You know, you're the one—' I began, but the box slipped out of my hand and fell with a thunk and a rattle onto the carpet. Phil waited till I bent to retrieve it, then took the opportunity to slip past with Matty. ‘Oh, hang on, it's not really convenient,' I called after him, but too late because he was standing in the entrance to the living room with his mouth open.

‘Carol?'

‘It's all right,' I said, even though it wasn't, not by a long chalk.

David stood up as if he was meeting a client, and stretched out his hand. ‘Phil.'

‘Is Jaz here?'

‘No, she's working today,' I said, feeling my face grow hot.

‘. . . dropped by,' mumbled Ian in the background.

‘We're having a picnic,' went on David.

‘Ta,' said Matty, passing up a cherry tomato. Phil took it from him and stared at it.

David gave up on the handshake and sat down again. ‘Help yourself,' he said. ‘I can recommend the Dairylea.'

I watched Phil dither on the spot, the back of his coat still stained by the rain, and I could tell exactly what was going through his head.

‘How's business?' said David. ‘This banking thing affecting you at all?'

‘Not really,' said Phil. ‘Jaz is working, you say, Carol?'

I nodded.

He turned back to David. ‘So . . .'

‘I came to see my grandson,' said David. ‘Incidentally, I think we may have solved the pond problem. Do you want to tell him, Carol?'

Although Phil, as the only man standing, should have had the advantage, he was the one out of place and awkward. He cleared his throat, turned his gaze to Ian. One adulterer to another, I was thinking. David's the only decent one among you. For a few seconds I let myself run a little fantasy: Phil and David locked in physical combat, brawling across the remains of the picnic so that beakers spilled over, fairy cakes were squashed, my mother's ornaments trembled in the display cabinet.

Then Matty, picking his way across the tray cloth, trod on a plate, lost his balance and fell over. He struck his head on the arm of the sofa and began to cry. I started forwards, but Ian was already pulling him onto his lap, shushing and stroking.

Phil's hand was on my arm.

‘Come into the kitchen, you,' he said. ‘I need a word.'

The light coming in through the window was that golden, pre-sunset type that should make you feel relaxed. Perhaps Dad was relaxed. How was I to know? They'd shifted his chair forward so he could see out of the window, but as the sun dipped lower he'd become dazzled, so I'd turned him side-on. One cheek and ear was gilded, like an angel's.

‘Mrs Wynne's granddaughter's not so good,' I said.

In the corridor outside I could hear shouting, and then a nurse's voice, calm and upbeat.

‘You remember when her little girl had that fit? Well, Libby's all right, but they don't know if the baby's growing properly. Mrs Wynne says she's got to go in for some tests.' I stretched my fingers out into the shaft of light. ‘Which is obviously worrying. When I think about it now, Jaz had an easy pregnancy, didn't she?'

It wasn't my day to be there, but I'd been sitting at home and suddenly I needed to see my dad. Now I was here, I still felt restless and undone.

The glass on the sunburst clock bulged, as if there was too much time inside it, and the earth rolled us towards night. Someone's walking frame tap-tapped along the corridor.

‘I just wish I knew,' I said, forgetting the fiction that he could hear, that he could understand, that I'd get any response; forgetting it all and talking to myself. ‘Am I doing the right thing? Letting them into my house, going behind her back? She's my daughter.'

You're playing a fucking dangerous game
, I heard Phil say again.

‘Who should I be supporting here? Who counts the most, Matty, or Jaz?'

Under Dad's eye a nerve flickered, a momentary spasm. That was all. Nothing more.

CHAPTER 16

Photograph: unnumbered, loose inside an old Bunny-Bons toffee tin, the shed, Sunnybank
.

Location: outside Jaz's university hall of residence, Leeds

Taken by: Tomasz Ramzinski

Subject: Jaz and her father stand with their backs against the wall, as if they're about to be shot. Phil has his arms folded and Jaz is biting her nails. To Jaz's left, some boy inside the building squashes his face against the window in a grotesque leer
.

This has been a disaster of a day
.

Phil's intention was to drive his girlfriend, Penny, over to Leeds so she could meet Jaz properly. But on the way there, he apparently said something wrong – he's not sure what – and before he knew it, Pen was accusing him of all sorts. Not taking the relationship seriously, not committing, being ashamed of her, not earning enough money, taking no interest in soft furnishings. After a while he stopped listening. The upshot was, she sat in the car while he went to see his daughter on his own
.