Never Say Goodbye (14 page)

‘At last,’ Jeff declared, as she let herself in the front door. ‘I’ve had a call-out so you’ll have to put my dinner in the oven. Potatoes are already on the boil, and sausages under the grill. There’s a letter on the shelf from your son. Should be back in about an hour,’ and brushing past her as she hung up her coat, he hurried out to the car.

Your son,
as though Ryan wasn’t his any more.

Going to the kitchen, Josie checked nothing was about to burn before opening the food cupboard and taking out a bottle of wine. It was only after staring at it for several minutes, with the words
your son
going round in her mind, that she put it back again. She’d heard on the news how alcohol could cause cancer, so it was a daft idea to open a bottle anyway. She’d finish making the tea, try to eat some herself, then put her feet up in front of
Corrie
with Ryan’s letter.

They didn’t have any proper results yet, so there was every chance Mr Beck had got it wrong. He was human, after all, and humans were always making mistakes, even people like him.

‘
IS THIS SEAT
taken? Would you mind . . .?’ Harry Beck laughed in surprise. ‘Bel! The second time in as many weeks. How lucky am I? Are you waiting for someone?’

‘No, no,’ Bel replied quickly, delighted to see him. ‘Please, sit down.’

Putting his coffee on the table, he shrugged off his coat and sank into the chair opposite hers. As usual, the garden centre’s café was full, though mainly with OAPs today, since Mondays and Wednesdays were special discount days for the over sixties. ‘Are you OK for a drink?’ he asked. ‘Can I get you another?’

‘Thanks,’ she smiled, ‘but I’ve only just started this one.’ She raised her cup. ‘Cheers. You’re certainly not someone I expected to run into here, but I guess even surgeons have gardens. And days off.’

‘We do,’ he confirmed, ‘though I confess I’m not on a mission for plants. They do great cards in the gift shop, and it’s my mother’s birthday next week, my aunt’s the week after, and my son’s the week after that.’

‘And how old will he be?’ she asked with a smile.

‘Eleven,’ he replied, sipping his coffee. ‘And you? Are you blessed with green fingers, or are you also on the hunt for cards?’

‘Advice,’ she informed him. ‘My niece and nephew want to create a vegetable garden, so I’m here seeking guidance.’

His eyes twinkled as he said, ‘I take it we’re talking about Natalia’s children?’

‘They’re the only niece and nephew I have.’

Sitting back, he said, ‘It must be lovely for them, having you so close by.’

‘It’s certainly lovely for me. It makes everything feel so much more alive when they’re around. When they leave . . .’ She pulled a face, not wanting to go any further with that.

Raising an eyebrow, he replied, ‘I know what you mean. You get so used to children filling up the house with toys and noise and God only knows what else. When they’re suddenly not there, the place seems so empty it could drive you nuts.’

If only you knew,
she was thinking, profoundly relieved that he had no idea what kind of thoughts went round in her head during those horribly silent hours. ‘How many children do you have?’ she enquired, sipping her coffee.

‘Two. Both boys. Josh, the soon-to-be eleven-year-old, and Neelmani, who was nine just before Christmas.’

‘Neelmani? An unusual name.’

‘It was my father’s. He died the year before Neel was born, so my wife agreed to make my mother happy by naming our son after his grandfather.’

‘You sound a close family.’

His eyes shone with irony. ‘Don’t get me wrong,’ he said, ‘I adore my mother, but it’s always a little bit of a relief when she goes off to the old country to stay with her sister, which is where she is now.’

‘Do you have a lot of family in India?’

Affecting an Indian accent, he said, ‘Very many cousins and uncles and aunties, but most of them I am not seeing for very many years.’ Reverting to his normal voice, he went on, ‘We used to go regularly when my sister and I were children, until my father developed a desire to see other parts of the world. So his country of birth was given the heave-ho, at least as far as we children were concerned. He and my mother continued to spend several weeks a year there, working at hospitals in deprived areas. In case you’re wondering, they were both surgeons. He was a neurologist, she was a paediatrician until she retired about ten years ago. My father passed on just before that.’

‘I’m sorry.’

He waved a dismissive hand. ‘It was a long time ago.’

‘Were you born in India?’

‘No, but my sister was. I didn’t come along until seven years later, by which time my parents were settled in London. Have you ever been to India?’

Bel nodded, and felt memories stirring their warmth into her heart. ‘Talia and I spent about four months there during our gap year,’ she replied, wishing she could relive every moment, even if only in the telling. ‘We absolutely loved it, and always said we’d go back.’ Though her smile remained in place, an inevitable sadness clouded her eyes.

‘Maybe you should,’ he suggested gently. ‘India’s known for its healing powers.’

Swallowing, she said, ‘I’ve promised to take the children when they’re older. They say they want to go to all the places I visited with their mummy, but even if Nick agrees, they’ll probably have different ideas of where they’d like to go by the time it comes around.’

‘Wouldn’t that be just like children?’ he commented wryly. ‘Am I allowed to ask how they’re getting along with their new stepmother?’

Hoping her ambivalence towards Kristina didn’t show, she said, ‘Pretty well. She’s definitely not of the wicked variety, though not a natural Mother Earth type either. Actually, I don’t suppose I’d have put Talia or me in that category. As for you, I’m guessing you love being a father.’

Breaking into a laugh, he took out his mobile as it rang. ‘More than anything else,’ he assured her. ‘Excuse me, I ought to take this,’ and clicking on he answered with his name.

Though he said almost nothing Bel couldn’t help noticing how his expression darkened, and by the time he rang off he wasn’t looking at all happy.

‘Is everything all right?’ she ventured, when he didn’t get up to go. ‘Not a patient who’s . . .’

‘No, no, no,’ he interrupted. ‘It’s nothing to do with that, thank goodness. It was someone from the hospital Trust who’s been . . . Well, we don’t need to go into that. All part of the job, I’m afraid.’ He put on a smile. ‘Where were we? Ah, someone else to hijack my attention. One second,’ and clicking on his mobile again he said, ‘Hey Ben, tell me some good news.’ His eyes brightened with laughter as he looked at Bel. ‘That’s terrific,’ he declared. ‘When did they confirm? Sure I can make it. It’s already in my diary. OK, email me the details . . . Course I know where it is. We’ve played there before. I’m just amazed they’re having us back . . .’ With a shout of laughter, he said, ‘I’ll hold you to that,’ and after ringing off he sat back in his chair with a very satisfied look on his face.

‘Am I allowed to ask?’ Bel prompted.

‘You most certainly are. What are you doing next Saturday night?’

Startled, she said, ‘I’m not sure. Why?’

‘How would you like to come and watch my band? We’re playing at the White Hart out on the Moorstart road. Do you know it?’

Yes, she knew it. ‘Your band?’ she echoed. ‘You mean, as in rock and roll?’

‘More swing jazz, or that’s what we like to call it. We’re on at nine, apparently. If you’re interested I’ll put some tickets aside for you. Not that I’m anticipating a sell-out, you understand, but we do have our followers.’

Enjoying his irony, she said, ‘Which instrument do you play, or are you the singer?’

‘Good God no. I’m on trumpet. Jim Sayer from Paediatrics does vocals and drums; Ray Ullman from Orthopaedics is our keyboard chap, and Ben Weaver, the pathologist who just rang, plays a mean guitar.’

‘And does your band have a name?’

‘Are you going to cringe if I tell you it’s The Medics?’

‘I’m trying not to,’ she promised.

Laughing, he said, ‘Do you care for swing jazz?’

‘What’s not to like about it?’

‘You haven’t heard us yet . . . How many tickets would you like?’

Not wanting to admit that she had no one to take, she said, ‘Can I call or text you about that? I . . . Well, to be honest, I haven’t been out much lately, so I’m not sure who to invite.’

‘Understood. Tell me your number, if I ring it now you’ll have mine and I’ll also have yours.’

After entering his details into her contacts, she asked, ‘Will your wife be there? It would be nice to meet her.’

He pulled a face. ‘I wouldn’t bank on it. She’s never been our biggest fan, but that might be because she has a musical ear.’

Smiling, Bel said, ‘What does she do?’

‘She runs a school for children with special needs. Her younger brother has Down’s, which is what got her into it. Just like my sister having breast cancer got me into what I do.’

Her eyes widened. ‘Your sister . . . I had no idea. Where is she? I mean . . .’

‘She didn’t make it,’ he said sadly. ‘She was seven years older than me, so I was still in my teens when she went. We were very close, in spite of the gap in our ages. It hit me hard, which is why I understand, to some degree, how it’s been for you, losing Natalia. My fear is,’ he went on gently, ‘that you’re in danger of losing yourself now, which can happen after the death of someone you love. Please don’t let it be the case for you. I promise, it’s not what she’d want.’

Bel lowered her eyes. How could he possibly know what Talia wanted, when she couldn’t even be sure of it herself?

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I’m speaking out of turn . . .’

‘No, no, it’s fine,’ she assured him. ‘You’re probably right, I am dwelling on it too much, or not doing enough to get over it.’ She looked up and smiled. ‘But I will come to your gig next Saturday night, provided I don’t have the children.’

‘Great,’ he beamed. ‘I’ll look forward to it. Now, I guess I should be on my way, or I’ll be late for this afternoon’s clinic.’

As he wound a path through the tables Bel watched him go and couldn’t help feeling slightly relieved to be alone again, given how out of practice she was at being witty or erudite. She had far too little in the way of adult conversation these days, which wasn’t good; she just hoped he’d enjoyed their little chat as much as she had. On the other hand he was, and would always be, one of the most painful reminders of Talia, and because of that she couldn’t be sure now if going to see his band next Saturday night would be such a great idea after all.

Karaoke nights were nearly always a laugh, and tonight’s had turned into one of the best for ages. Though Josie and Jeff wouldn’t normally have gone out boozing on a weeknight, seeing it was a mate’s birthday they’d made an exception and Josie was sure Jeff had enjoyed it even more than she had. He’d sung his daft old heart out up there on the stage, getting everyone up dancing and singing along to all the old faves. Even his father, who could be a miserable sod at times, had been spotted tapping his foot and mumbling the words to ‘Waterloo’, before he’d managed to drop off in spite of the noise.

Jeff had driven him home now, dispensing Eileen on the way, while Josie, feeling lovely and tipsy thanks to four rum and Cokes, was weaving her way along the high street on Carly’s arm.

‘I don’t know about you,’ Carly declared, wobbling on her high heels as she brought them to an abrupt halt, ‘but I’m bloody starving.’ She was a large woman with short silvery hair (when it wasn’t plugged with extensions and backbrushed beyond gravity), pale blue eyes and what Jeff called a happy gappy grin on account of the space between her front teeth. ‘Let’s go over the road and get some fish and chips.’

Finding she was hungry too, Josie tripped along after her, still singing ‘I Should Be So Lucky’, while managing a little dance. She and Jeff really ought to come out more often in the week, it broke things up a bit, even if the weather was bloody freezing and it meant him missing out on a couple of fares. Life was too short to be working all the time; they needed to have more fun.

‘Just a couple of bags of chips for me,’ she told Chen the Chippie when it was her turn to order, ‘and some curry sauce. Jeff’s very partial to curry sauce.’

‘Spring rolls?’ Chen suggested, making ready to tong some into a wrapper.

‘No, no, I don’t want to get fat,’ she laughed.

‘Listen to her,’ Carly chided. ‘You never got enough meat on those bones, my girl. You want to be a bit more like me, all T and A and plenty in between.’

‘Whatever that’s supposed to mean,’ Josie giggled.
Please don’t let her start flirting with Chen.
It was beyond embarrassing when Carly teased the poor bloke, even though he barely knew enough English to understand the words. Or maybe he did and pretended not to.

‘A cod lot with double chips for me,’ Carly told him, ‘and you can throw in a nice big sausage if you’ve got one.’ As she nudged Josie, Josie cringed behind her smile as the little chap’s glasses caught a cloud of steam from the fryer.

‘Wonder what sort of action he gets from his stick of a Mrs,’ Carly commented, as they carried their greasy parcels out into the night.

‘What do you care?’ Josie replied, pulling her collar up higher to keep out the wind. ‘It’s not like you fancy him, or is it?’

‘Give me a break,’ Carly laughed. ‘I’d squash the poor bugger to death if I as much as sat on him. No, six foot six, beefy and bagloads of cash is how I Iike ’em, so if you know of anyone, be sure to send him round my place, won’t you?’

‘It’s a promise,’ Josie assured her. ‘What happened to the bloke you met at Bar 4 One last week? The one who said he’d ring when he was back in Kesterly. Have you heard anything yet?’

‘Have I heck. He was only after one thing, same as the rest, but at least he was polite and gave us a kiss before he left in the morning.’ Hooking Josie’s arm, she drew her in closer as she said, ‘I swore I wouldn’t tell anyone this, so keep it to yourself, right?’

‘Of course,’ Josie promised, already knowing she was probably the only one who would keep the secret.