The School Gates (28 page)

‘Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll sort a babysitter. See you later.’

Dana sat on the side of the bath and felt the terrible irony of it all. After all these years of wanting another baby, now she wasn’t sure if that was what she wanted at all.

Mo put her handbag on the kitchen table and flicked the kettle on. She couldn’t have coped without Dr Anderson’s help and support. He had not only guided her through the whole funeral process, she would be eternally grateful that he had also lent her two thousand pounds for the funeral costs. Which, he said, she could pay back at just fifty pounds a month, interest free.

In fact, she had been overwhelmed by everyone’s love and generosity. Even Charlie had taken the week off from his new job and was helping around the house.

She went upstairs to see if she had anything smart and black lurking in the wardrobe. She had a black hat if nothing else. Her hat box was on the top shelf. She jumped up to push it to the edge so she could reach it, and in doing so knocked it flying down on the floor. The hat flew onto her dressing-table, along with a white envelope addressed: To my beautiful wife.

Sitting on the bed, she hungrily ripped open the envelope.

My dear darling Mo,

Unless you’ve decided to wear your black hat for some other occasion, which I very much doubt, you are reading this because I am no longer with you and haven’t had the chance to say this to you face to face.

Quite simply, I love you – and even through our darkest days I always have. Our life wasn’t a bad life to start with and I hope I made you happy back then. The regret I have for how I behaved when I did lose my job is immense, and do you know what – I deserved to die young for the way I treated you. And knowing that I have left you no money to carry on with now makes me feel physically sick.

You are quite simply a beautiful woman, Mo. You always have been. Size 8 to18. Some of the things I remember I said to you in my alcoholic state were just so cruel, so unthinkably cruel. All I can say is, I am truly, deeply sorry.

And now to our kids. The beautiful little Rosie and the handsome rogue, Charlie. I know that Rosie wasn’t made in a love – filled haze by any means, but the joy that little girl has given me has made my short life worth every second. I don’t have to say ‘look after her’ because I know that you are the best mother any child could ever wish for; one of the many other reasons I loved you so much.

Now, to Charlie. This is the hard part but I didn’t want to go to my grave with you not knowing, and I hope it makes you think more of me than you probably do.

I have always known he wasn’t mine. Even when he was a little bump in your tummy. It would have been an immaculate conception – even I as a mere bloke worked that one out. But I loved you, Mo, loved you so much that I wanted to take you and your baby on. I couldn’t bear not to have you in my life and after all you had been through growing up, I knew you deserved and needed security and love.

Tears poured down Mo’s cheeks as she read on.

And when that beautiful little dark-haired boy appeared, it didn’t matter that he wasn’t mine. All I knew was that he needed a dad and that was going to be me, to the best of my ability. You may/may not know who the father is, but my blessing is with you Mo. If you want to tell Charlie that I wasn’t his dad and encourage him to find his real father, then that is fine by me. He gets the best of both worlds then, eh? And who knows, you might just find love again too.

Find happiness, Mo, and love and a person who will look after you properly.

I failed you but I always loved you, loved you with all my heart.

Yours forever, Ron x

Mo wiped her eyes roughly with her hand, folded the letter and tucked it into her knicker drawer.

That was it. She would get herself through the stress of the funeral and then tell Charlie the truth. There were to be no more secrets in this house, and if he did take off, she would just have to trust the strength of a son’s love for him not to stay angry with her forever.

It was a really warm April night and the beer garden at the Featherstone Arms was heaving.

Gordon waited nervously for Robbie to appear with their drinks.

‘So, if I get you right, you are asking me to be a sort of housekeeper for the girls? I ain’t no au-pair, love – my dressing – up days are long gone,’ Robbie told him.

‘Not a housekeeper, but if I could put in your diary when I am flying and you could be available to do school runs, feed the kids and babysit when I’m not around, that would be such a help. It would, of course, be a stopgap until I can get another au pair as I know you have a busy life. I won’t go through Bebops and can pay you cash. And I wouldn’t expect you to move in.’

‘Hmm, and what might my extra benefits be – and you know I’m not talking holiday pay.’

‘You’re a bad man, Robbie.’ Gordon had a sudden thought. ‘Do you know what? I don’t even know your surname, and that’s outrageous. I know the intimate parts of your body but not who you really are.’

‘Who’s the slut now? It’s Williams, anyway.’

‘Shut the fuck up!’ Gordon exclaimed. ‘You are joking.’

‘No, my mum had a thing for him and that was it – she married a Williams and called her firstborn Robbie. Just a shame I don’t have his money.’

‘So, what do you reckon?’

‘Let’s give it a go. As long as I know in advance, which you say I will, I can organise any other work and fit stuff around the Youth Centre.’

‘Brilliant. The girls are with their grandparents tonight, so I have a free house too.’

‘Ooh – payment in kind in advance! I like that idea. Sod eating, let’s get these down us and go back to yours.’

Mo woke to the rain bashing against her bedroom window and the awful realisation that today she was cremating her husband. Somehow it always seemed worse sending someone off in the rain and she hoped it would brighten up by eleven.

She had given Rosie the choice of whether she wanted to come or not but Rosie was insistent that she wanted to be part of the day. She realised it would be sad but she wanted to be there for her mum, and she said that she could hold her big brother’s hand in case he was sad too.

The Collins family looked a very sad, but smart trio as they left the house and got into the funeral car that was waiting for them to follow Ron in the hearse to the crematorium.

The service was short but very nice, even though there weren’t that many good things that the vicar could spout on about Ron’s recent life. Charlie was a complete angel throughout, looking after his mum and guiding Rosie through the service and wiping her tears away with the tissues he had brought.

Joan and Ffion looked on at how caring he was being and a little piece of each of their hearts melted.

When Charlie got outside, he suddenly cracked up. He knew that Joan was travelling back with his mum and Rosie, so he gave her a kiss and said he would see her at the pub where the wake was being held, once he had pulled himself together.

However, once out of their sight, he walked out of the church gates and straight into a pub immediately opposite the church to get a badly needed drink.

‘A large JD and Coke, please, mate.’

‘And I’ll have the same,’ a young Welsh accent trilled behind him, whilst handing a twenty-pound note over the bar.

‘Ffion! What are you doing here?’

‘I was at the back of the church showing support to your mum. I’m so sorry, darling.’

Charlie downed his drink in one. ‘Shove another one in there, please, mate.’ He wiped his eyes and moved over to sit at a table in the corner.

Ffion joined him. ‘You were so brave. I can’t imagine losing either of my parents.’

‘I know my dad was a bastard at the end but we made our peace.’ He bit his lip to stop further tears. ‘And we had such a happy house when we were little. Oh, Ffi. This is so shit and poor Mum, she’s got no bloody money. I’m going to help her now and stop being such a bastard myself. And I did love him, deep down. I really did.’

‘That is just so lovely, considering he wasn’t even your real dad.’

Charlie felt as if he had just been shot in the heart.

‘What did you just say?’

‘Yeah, your mum told me that she was pregnant when she met your dad.’

Charlie wished he had been shot in the heart.

‘I guess I was lucky we all made it work then, eh? Right, let’s get to that wake. I mean, what would my dad think, me not drinking to his health?’

‘Mother! Mother! Where are you?’ Alana threw her keys on the side. The TV was on and the kettle had just boiled.

She could hear loud screeching in the garden. She went to the conservatory and there was her sixty-seven-year-old mother and her six-year-old daughter running though the sprinkler which was in full flow. She laughed out loud, keeping in the shadows so she could watch with joy for longer.

That was another thing: how could she take Eliska away from her granny now that they had just met and were getting on so well? Her daughter had never been happier – and was it her right to pull her away from all that she found familiar to start up a new life with Stephen?

She walked outside and the naughty twosome stopped still as if to prove they had been doing nothing, although the fact they were soaked to their pants somewhat gave the game away.

‘I don’t know what you’re stopping for,’ Alana said, turning up the hose on the side of the house so that she could join in the fun.

She hadn’t had such a laugh in years. In fact, she had forgotten what real happiness felt like, until lately.

‘Thank you,’ Alana said to her mother as they sat in dressing-gowns having a cup of tea at the kitchen table later. Eliska was up having a bath.

‘For what, dear?’

‘For coming back and loving us.’

‘Not exactly difficult to do, Lani,’ Isobel Murray replied in her usual no-nonsense manner. ‘Now I really must get bathed if the bairn has finished. I mean, look at the state of my hair!’

‘Have you got a sec before you go up, Mother?’

‘Sure, my darling. What’s the matter?’

‘It’s a dilemma, but shouldn’t be a dilemma.’

‘Go on, spit it out, girl.’

‘Stephen has asked if I will move to Cyprus with him – I mean me and Rosie, of course.’

‘And will you have to work?’

‘No. He’s semi-retiring and says I can help with his business over there, or if I want to find something for myself, of course.’

‘Good God, girl, book the tickets now. What the deuces are you waiting for?’

‘I’m worried about Eliska, uprooting her and also leaving you now that we are all getting on so well.’

‘Look, let’s break it down. The schools will have a lot of ex-pat kids. It is a holiday resort so there will be lots of English speakers to make friends with. And I’ve always thought that living in new countries rounds you as a person.’

‘Stephen said all of that and his wife’s sister lives there with her kids, so she can help me with schools, I guess.’

‘See? And I can manage the house here, if you like. Or even better, darling, you know that wherever I lay my hat is my home. I could even get a little villa in the sun near you to help babysit.’

‘Stephen’s business actually is villa rental.’

‘Well, there you go! What’s not to be excited about, I say.’

‘And what about my job?’

‘You were saying yourself how much you liked not working, the month you had off. Go, Lani – have some fun with a decent man who loves you. You’ve worked hard. You deserve it. And you mark my words, that little one will love it and love you for it when she’s older, I promise you.’

‘Oh, I don’t know.’

‘What’s really your concern, Lani?’

‘I think I’m a bit scared.’

‘Of what in particular?’

‘Of not being in control, of being cared for. Of Stephen never loving me as much as his wife. It all just seems a bit too much. I don’t think I can do it.’

‘Oh, love. You mustn’t throw away this chance of happiness because of your stubborn, single-minded nature. You can always come back if it’s not for you, but do you know what?

You don’t find many Stephen McNairs in this life, and if I were you, I would grab him with both hands and not let him go.’

– Chapter Twenty Five –

Ron Collins’ wake was over in an hour. Mo didn’t want it to be a boozy affair, considering that was what in effect had destroyed her marriage and killed her husband.

Charlie had told Ffion to her dismay that he didn’t want her to go with him and that in his eyes they were over for good. Well, sod him; he was a nasty piece of work anyway so why would she want him in her life? She let him go and went back to the bar to have one for the road.

‘Penny for ‘em?’

‘What?’ Ffion said to the rotund dark-haired man at the bar.

‘I said “a penny for ’em” – your thoughts, that is.’

‘Oh, sorry – I was miles away. I’ve just been to a funeral and my sort of ex has just been an arse. Didn’t I see you in the back of the church?’