Strictly Love (28 page)

Chapter Thirty-six

 

Mark wasn't sure how many days and nights had gone by since Gemma's accident. He thought it was about three, or maybe four, but they were blurring into one another. When they weren't at the hospital, he and Sam had taken turns to pop over to Katie's to see Beth, who, thanks to Katie's brilliant support, was coping well with the situation and fortunately hadn't picked up on quite how ill her sister was.

For Mark, time had become reduced to endless hours of sitting by Gemma's bedside, holding her hand, talking to her, as the doctors suggested, propping Sam up when she was close to collapse, and bolstering his own fragile emotions by clamping down as hard as he could on them. He had lost sight of everything but a hospital bed, where his daughter lay white and still – even the court case seemed like an unimportant blip on his horizon. His world had shrunk to moments of waiting, listening to the steady sound of her breathing and hoping that today would bring good news.

‘She has a good chance of recovery,’ Mr Edwards, the consultant, had promised them. ‘The MRI scan has shown there's no permanent damage. It's just a question of time now.’

Despite the consultant's upbeat prognosis, Mark had had several dark nights of the soul, wondering if his daughter would ever be the same again. The worst times were always around two or three in the morning, when the darkness seemed
all-enveloping, and the thought that morning would never come became curiously real. Mark had insisted Sam slept in the relatives’ room while he kept watch over their daughter. And it was then and only then that he gave way to moments of despair, holding her hand and pleading with her to wake up.

So far there had been no response. In his worst moments, Mark wondered if there ever would be again. He never voiced his thoughts, though. Keeping them hidden became like a talisman to him. If he put words to his fears they might actually happen. Shut them out and they never would.

He rubbed his eyes: 4 a.m. Another night was passing and turning towards a steely dawn.

‘you've led us a right old dance, Gem,’ he said. ‘I wish you'd just wake up so I could tell you everything is okay.’ He squeezed her hand and held it tight. If only she would respond. If only. But there was nothing. Nothing. What if there was never anything there again?

Suddenly he felt suffocated by this room, by the sound of his daughter's breathing, by the monotonous beeping of the machines monitoring her. Would this nightmare never end?

A howl emanated from somewhere, and he realised to his horror it had come from him. He got up and staggered to the window and looked out as a grey dawn heralded the start of a new day. Tears streamed down his cheeks. It was no good. He was going to lose her. His precious daughter.

‘Ugh. Ugh.’

A muffled sound made him turn round. Gemma was moving, and making some spluttering sounds. Mark raced to her bed and buzzed for the nurse.

‘Gemma, can you hear me? Please. Wake up.’ He held her hand, not daring to breathe. Gemma sat bolt upright and looked at him. ‘Dad,’ she said. ‘Why are you crying?’

* * *

 

Emily was practically skipping as she made her way down the corridors of Eastwick Hospital. Rob had rung her with the good news that Gemma was finally awake. She had photocopies of the transcripts of her conversations with both Graham Harker and Kerry. Maybe when she gave them to Mark he would forgive her. She didn't want to think too much about anything else. He'd had so much to deal with that now didn't seem to be the right moment to be considering their future.

She paused as she came to a fork in the corridors, uncertain where to go.

A man in a white coat walked past.

‘Are you lost?’ he asked.

‘I'm looking for Newbery Ward,’ she said.

‘It's that way,’ said the doctor, pointing to the right-hand corridor, and Emily walked towards the end of it.

She had to be buzzed in to the children's ward, which was bright and breezy with pictures on the wall. In a TV room mums sat with small children on their laps, and bored teenagers on crutches hobbled about the place. Upon asking at the nurses’ station where Gemma Davies was, Emily was directed to a single room off the main corridor.

Rob had said Mark would still be there. And Emily hadn't given thought to anyone else. It was only when she looked through the window into the room that she realised Mark wasn't alone. He was sitting with his back to her, beside Gemma's bed, with a small, pretty woman at his side. This must be the mysterious Sam. All three were laughing.

Oh God. This was a terrible mistake. She shouldn't have come.

Emily hovered outside the door for a moment, and then watched as Sam leaned against Mark and he put his arm around her.

She definitely shouldn't have come. She was intruding on a private family moment. Mark was clearly going back to Sam.
There was, after all, to be no future with him. She turned and left, tears blinding her eyes. She'd given everything up for nothing.

Rob arrived at Katie's house the Saturday before Christmas, clutching a bottle of red and some dance DVDs.

‘I thought you could do with some company as you mentioned that Charlie had the kids this weekend, and I know from Mark that Beth has gone home,’ he said. ‘And I also thought we could try to start working out a routine for the finals of the dance competition.’

To their amazement, Katie and Rob kept getting through to the next round of the contest, the final of which was in a posh hotel on the Hill on New Year's Eve. ‘I've got waltzes, foxtrots, rumba and tango to choose from.’ He gave a wicked grin. ‘Personally I favour the tango. I understand the Argentinian one is particularly sexy.’

‘You would,’ said Katie, and shoved him. ‘But I'm glad to see you looking more cheerful.’

‘I feel more cheerful,’ said Rob. ‘There will be an inquiry, of course, but Mark's assured me that Gemma has admitted it was her fault, which is a relief. I'm just so pleased she's okay. I mean, she's got a broken leg, but apart from that she's as right as rain apparently. I'd never have forgiven myself if something had happened to her.’

He looked sombre again, and Katie touched him lightly on the arm.

‘But it didn't,’ she said. ‘Gemma's going to be fine. And no one blames you.’

Rob shivered.

‘You're right,’ he said. ‘I just keep going over in my head what might have happened.’

‘But it didn't,’ said Katie again, 'so you can relax. Go on, shove one of those DVDs on and I'll pour the wine. When we‘ve had enough I'll get a takeaway if you like.’

The sounds of a waltz was soon floating through the house, and Katie and Rob had a hilarious time dancing in Katie's conservatory in front of the Christmas tree, following the instructions of Hank, a laconic Texan, as to how to make the most of three/four timing.

The rumba was equally funny – this time their instructor was Rob's erstwhile online tutor, Carlo. He was about five foot, and despite wearing high black boots he didn't carry off the illusion of height very well. It didn't help that his glamorous supermodel-type partner was nearly six feet tall. Katie and Rob were on the floor every time he suggested they practise their 'ssssnake hips’.

‘Just as well the boys aren't here,’ said Katie as they collapsed on the sofa. ‘They'd never let me live this down.’

‘How are things?’ asked Rob. ‘Sorry, I've been so wrapped up in my troubles that I haven't asked you about yours.’

Katie sighed.

‘It's two steps forward and three back at the moment,’ said Katie. ‘Aidan doesn't know what's going on, but poor George. He asked me if his dad was gay, so I told him and now he's so confused. He's convinced all his friends are going to kill him when they find out. And they may well yet. I'm just hoping it will be a one-hit wonder and they'll all forget about it pretty quickly.’

‘Unless there's a particularly mean kid, my experience of these sorts of things is that they do blow over eventually,’ said Rob.

‘Oh, you've come across this one before then?’ Katie asked.

‘No, can't say I have,’ confessed Rob. ‘But I'm sure it will be okay in the end.’

‘I hope so,’ said Katie. ‘It seems a really tough break for a ten-year-old boy. I could kill Charlie for putting him through it.’

‘And how are you?’

Katie pulled a face.

‘Getting there,’ she said. ‘I have good days and bad days. I think the shock's wearing off, and – does this sound dreadful?
– a part of me feels hugely relieved. But … I don't know. It all seems such a waste. Such a terrible waste of time and energy and emotion. I feel like my whole life has been based on a lie. And that is incredibly hard to deal with.’

‘It's not a total waste,’ said Rob, ‘you've got the kids.’

‘That's what Emily said,’ Katie replied. She paused and had a sip of wine, and sat staring at the sparkling reflection of the Christmas lights in the conservatory windows. It felt cosy and warm and right being here with Rob. For a moment she looked at him and wondered what he was thinking. The last few weeks had brought them much closer together. Was she ready yet to make that commitment towards something more? She'd certainly seen a side to him that had been completely unexpected, but the way Charlie had left her had shocked her to the core. Did she trust Rob enough to start again?

Mark brought Sam a cup of tea, and they sat chatting to their daughter companionably. It took him back to the way things had once been, when the world was young and so were they. In the time since he and Sam had been apart, he had often been so angry with her, he'd forgotten just what he'd seen in her in the first place. And now he was remembering. She was funny and sweet. Despite her feelings of failure, she was and always had been a good mum.

Perhaps the not-unnatural desire to get back into the workplace after years stuck at home had gone to her head a little, but now the chips were down it was clear who was coming first. Sam had made it quite plain to her bosses at
Smile, Please!
that she wasn't going to be back at work anytime soon. Mark applauded the decision. He hadn't planned to be at work this week anyway, because of the GDC hearing – which had gone on in his absence. Funny how something that had felt so important could suddenly seem so immaterial.

‘Mum, Dad,’ Gemma said suddenly, ‘I'm really sorry.’

‘What for, sweetheart?’ Sam asked, reaching for her hand.

‘For this,’ said Gemma, indicating the hospital bed and her broken leg.

‘We're just pleased you're okay,’ said Sam, ‘aren't we?’

‘Of course,’ said Mark. ‘Do you remember much of what happened?’

Gemma looked down at her hands, embarrassed.

‘I was being a jerk,’ she said, fiddling with the bedclothes. ‘It was Shelly. She was going on and on about what a coward I am. I just snapped.’

‘You're not a coward,’ said Mark. ‘Why on earth did Shelly think that?’

‘Because, well – you know I was bunking off and that.’ Gemma was studiously not looking at them. ‘Shelly wanted me to shoplift with her. And I said no.’

‘Right,’ said Mark. ‘Well, we think you did the right thing, don't we, Mum?’

‘Yes,’ Sam agreed. ‘Oh, sweetheart. You should have said.’

Gemma looked up at them, her eyes filling with tears.

‘I wanted to,’ she said. ‘I really did. But you're both … Well, Mum, you're always working. And, Dad, you were worried about the court case. And –’ suddenly it came out in a rush, ‘I hate it that you've split up. You're always arguing and you're so mean to each other. I just want things to be like they were.’

‘Oh Gemma!’ Mark could see his own dismay mirrored in Sam's face. God, how they'd managed to cock this up. ‘So you thought by behaving badly we might take more notice of you and get back together?’

‘Yes,’ sniffed Gemma. ‘Shelly read a book where that happened, and she said I should try it. Only then she got all mean and I don't think I like her any more.’

As Shelly had been nowhere near the hospital since Gemma's accident, nor once asked after her (though the rest of the year had sent presents and cards), Mark was inclined to agree.

‘We're so, so sorry,’ said Sam. ‘Sometimes grown-ups can be a bit stupid. Can you forgive us?’

Gemma was crying really hard now, and Mark and Sam both sat on her bed with their arms around her.

‘It's all right,’ they said, as they used to when she was little and having a nightmare. ‘Everything's going to be all right now.’

‘So are you two going to get back together then?’ Gemma asked, her sobs easing slightly.

Mark looked at Sam. She looked away.

‘Gem,’ he said carefully, ‘I don't think that's going to happen. I'm really sorry, but sometimes it's better to say things are over and move on. But I promise – we promise – that we'll try to listen to you more and not fight so much. How does that sound?’

‘Mum?’

Sam swallowed, as if taking a slightly bitter pill. Then she squeezed her daughter tight. ‘Dad's right,’ she said. ‘However much we all want it to, it wouldn't work any more. But there's no reason we can't all be friends. And Dad and I will make an effort to change things.’

She looked at Mark again – it was a look that said goodbye, but also one that promised hope of a new beginning. For the first time since they'd split up, Mark realised, they were acting as a team again. And that was the best he could hope for. One good thing to come out of Gemma's accident was that he'd been forced to spend time with Sam again, and remember the things he'd liked about her. But it had also made him realise he really was over her.

Chapter Thirty-seven

 

Emily stood hovering outside the meeting room where Mark's hearing was being held, holding a file full of all the information she had pulled together. She was waiting for Mark and his rep to arrive and then she was going to hand it to them, but she must have missed them, because the session seemed to have started already.

The Sunday papers had been full of Gemma's accident, and Mark's extraordinary statement about not wanting to sue. She could only imagine the discussions that were going on at work about his naïvety, but to Emily it made him seem like a hero. He must have thought his daughter was dying when he made that statement, and unlike so many people he hadn't been prepared to make any capital out of it. Gemma had been the only thing on his mind.

And Sam.

All weekend, Emily had gone over and over the scene she had witnessed. It was inevitable, she supposed, that what had happened had brought them back together. Nearly losing your daughter must be a life-changing moment, she imagined. And Mark and Sam had years and two children together. What must she appear like to him? A flaky woman he'd met and dallied with, who had put her career above her feelings for him. No wonder he'd gone back to his wife. Who wouldn't?

She would just have to accept that, unpalatable as it was, Mark
wasn't going to be a part of her life after all. But at least she could hold her head high, knowing she'd done the right thing.

A secretary exited the room. She disappeared for about five minutes before coming back.

‘Excuse me,’ said Emily. ‘Could you possibly give this to Mr Davies’ union rep? It's very, very important.’

‘Certainly, madam,’ said the secretary. ‘Who shall I say it's from?’

‘Just a well-wisher,’ said Emily, and she disappeared down the corridor.

Rob was attending an emergency session with his counsellor, who'd kindly fitted him in as a last-minute favour even though it was a few days before Christmas. Although he was thoroughly relieved that Gemma was recovering, the events of the previous week had left him reeling. He needed to make sense of all his reactions.

‘So do you still blame yourself?’ As usual Nina had let Rob chat away without saying a word. He had found this disconcerting at first, but now he was used to it he quite enjoyed it. It felt very self-indulgent, but it was also a great relief to be able to witter on about things, knowing that even if Nina was bored she was being paid to sit there and so it didn't actually matter.

‘I do,’ said Rob. ‘I keep thinking there must have been something I could have done. Like before, with the kid in Wales. That's twice now. I only did this sodding adventure-holiday thing to face up to my past, and now the same thing's happened again.’

‘Is that really how it is?’ Nina asked. ‘Perhaps you're looking at this the wrong way.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Don't you think that instead you could use it as a means of putting the past behind you?’

‘How can I do that?’ Rob asked.

‘For a start, Gemma didn't die,’ said Nina. ‘So that's a positive outcome.’

‘That's true,’ said Rob.

‘And does anyone blame you?’

‘No,’ said Rob. ‘I've been to see Gemma and she was adamant it was her fault, and Mark and Sam were brilliant about it from the beginning.’

‘So the people you love don't blame you,’ said Nina. ‘What about your work colleagues?’

‘They all said I was stupidly brave for trying to get her down. In fact,’ Rob had only just thought about the stupidity of this, ‘the topsy-turvy world we live in dictates that I'm in more trouble for having climbed the wall without a safety harness on myself, than the fact that Gemma actually hurt herself.’

‘So no one blames you?’

‘No,’ said Rob.

‘So why keep blaming yourself?’

Rob sat and thought about this for a minute. This was the point in the sessions that he always found the most uncomfortable, where Nina took him to a place where he was stripped bare – where jack-the-lad Rob had no escape, but had to face up to the person he was.

‘Because I always have,’ he said. ‘Ever since Wales. If I hadn't let Suzie distract me. If I hadn't been so in love with her that I could barely keep my eyes off her, couldn't stop thinking about her physically –’ He paused and blinked. Suddenly he remembered all too acutely the almost physical pain he'd felt at loving Suzie. He had been in a dazed happiness all that summer; nothing had really entered into that ball of happiness, nothing had broken through their tight, selfish little world, until the accident.

‘What do you see when you think about that day?’ Rob didn't say anything for a while, and then he said slowly, ‘I see a long summer's day draw to a sudden close and a

darkness descend. And the darkness has been there ever since, though I've fought very hard to deny its existence.’

‘And what happened last week?’

Rob gulped. His hands were sweating and he felt slightly sick.

‘The darkness overwhelmed me,’ he whispered. ‘That's why I blame myself.’

‘And how do you feel now?’

‘I don't know,’ said Rob slowly. ‘Better. Maybe – a bit. I mean, the darkness is still there. I don't think I'll ever get over what happened in Wales, but maybe I can learn to live with it.’

‘Excellent,’ beamed Nina. ‘I think you've done brilliantly today. Hold on to those thoughts and come back to me next week, and see how much better you feel then.’

Rob left the room and set off home. Despite it being December, the sun shone clear and bright. Katie had invited him, Mark and Sam for Christmas lunch, and he felt a lightening of his heart. It was true, he did feel better, as if a great burden had been eased slightly from his shoulders. Perhaps it was time to stop blaming himself.

Katie and Charlie sat down in the headmaster's office. Katie wondered whether Charlie felt as stupidly nervous as she did. She felt exactly as she had done at school the one and only time she'd smoked behind the bike shed, had got caught and had to go to see the head teacher.

‘You wished to see me?’ Mr Paterson smiled at them both, clearly trying to put them at their ease.

‘Yes, it's about, well, it's a rather delicate matter actually,’ said Katie. She glanced at Charlie. They had run through this together, but he was looking paralysed with fear. It amazed her now that she had ever imagined she could have been in love with him, but she realised now that the period after her dad's death had been so stressful that she had married Charlie entirely on the rebound. The things that had attracted her to him – his
kindness, his apparent honesty, his charm – were the things she'd loved in her dad. Given how much her dad had managed to fool her, was it any wonder she'd been beguiled by Charlie? It was even more of a wonder they'd lasted so long.

‘Unfortunately, we are splitting up,’ said Katie.

‘I see, I'm sorry to hear that,’ said Mr Paterson. ‘And how are the boys taking it?’

‘Not too badly, considering,’ said Katie.

‘Considering what?’

Charlie looked as though he wished there were a convenient trapdoor in the floor. He was not going to be any help.

‘As I said, it's a bit delicate,’ said Katie. ‘Charlie, do you want to tell him, or shall I?’

Charlie looked at her pleadingly.

‘Okay, the thing is, Mr Paterson,’ said Katie, ‘it transpires that my husband is gay.’

‘I see,’ said Mr Paterson. ‘Right. And the boys know this?’

‘George does, Aidan doesn't,’ said Katie. ‘We think he's a bit young yet.’

‘And how is George?’

‘Confused.’ Charlie spoke for the first time. ‘I've tried to talk to him and explain, but I'm not sure I've helped very much.’

‘In my experience,’ said Mr Paterson, ‘children do tend to bounce back. And they do get over things. I think the key is to be as honest as you have been. And also to have two loving parents, which you clearly are.’

Katie cleared her throat.

‘The thing we're worried about most –’ she said.

‘Is whether or not he's going to get bullied, obviously,’ said Mr Paterson. ‘I shall make sure that the Year Three and Six teachers understand the situation and, rest assured, any difficulty in that area will be dealt with swiftly. You've got to expect some low-level teasing at least. Year Six boys in particular are notoriously silly. But I'll make sure that it doesn't come to
anything serious. And if there are problems, I shall of course inform you at once.’

‘Thanks, Mr Paterson,’ said Katie, shaking his hand, ‘you've been most helpful.’

‘Yes, thank you,’ said Charlie. ‘I have to confess to feeling amazed at how understanding you've been.’

‘Oh, didn't you know?’ asked Mr Paterson as he showed them the door, ‘my ex-wife's a lesbian.’

Mark was sitting in the GDC hearing feeling ridiculously light-headed. There was nothing like your child having a near brush with death to put things in perspective. And, suddenly, he felt things were completely in perspective. Gemma was going to get better. Progress, the doctors told them, might be slow, but eventually she would be back to perfect health. And so now the hearing seemed meaningless. So what if he lost his job? Something else would turn up. He knew the truth, even if no one else did. And if the court case went against him too, he'd just have to cross that bridge when he came to it.

Mark looked around the room. He wondered if everyone here was as certain of his guilt as the papers were. Jasmine had given evidence this morning and had given such a convincing account of the pain and distress caused by his apparent actions that he felt sure she would be receiving an offer to star in
EastEnders
as soon as this was all over. One of the panel had managed to get her to admit that her career hadn't exactly been hindered by the revelations that her teeth weren't quite as perfect as the world might have supposed, but Jasmine had been well-primed and hadn't given anything else away.

Mark had half-hoped that he would see Emily again, but there appeared to be no sign of her. Perhaps it was just as well.

The door of the committee room opened, and a secretary came up to James, whispered something in his ear and handed him a file.

James had a quick look at the contents, then whispered to one of his colleagues, before putting up his hand. ‘I've just been given some new material which seems to change things significantly,’ he said. ‘I think the panel should see it immediately.’

The chairperson glanced at the rest of the panel, then said, ‘Well, this is a bit unprecedented, but tell us what it is.’

James punched Mark's arm lightly and said, ‘You're off the hook, mate.’ Then he stood up, held the file aloft, and said, ‘This hearing is a travesty, and my client should never have had to come here. I have proof that not only was he not responsible for the leak that led to the story about Jasmine Symonds's teeth coming into the public domain, but his uncharacteristic behaviour at the stag night was just that. Uncharacteristic. Someone spiked his drink.’

‘Let me see,’ said the chairperson. James passed the file over, and the man quickly scanned its contents before passing it to his colleagues. After a whispered discussion he said, ‘Following these revelations, I have no option but to dismiss these proceedings instantly. I find that Mark Davies has no case to answer here, and he can return to his work with no stain on his character.’

The room exploded in uproar. Mark could scarcely take it in. After all the months of worrying, it was finally over.

‘How – what – where did this new evidence come from?’ Mark turned to James in disbelief.

‘I have no idea,’ said James, ‘the secretary just said a well-wisher gave it to her. Kerry Matthews has signed a new statement to say it was her who rang the papers, and gave details of all the conversations and text messages that went between her and Tony Cavendish on the subject. Oh, and one thing I do have to apologise about – I was a bit dubious about the drink thing, but it turns out you were right. Someone did spike your drink. I'd put money on it being Graham Harker, but our mystery friend couldn't get him to confess, apparently. He did say that you were perfectly sober when you met, and that he thinks he saw someone drop something in your drink.’

Mark sat back and took a deep breath. It was such a relief that the whole thing was over. He had no costs to pay, his reputation was restored, and his daughter was going to be okay. For the first time in months he could sleep easily at night. He only wished Emily were here to share his joy.