The School Gates (5 page)

‘Of course I’m sure. They won’t change them this far on.’

‘Well, I shall give you some money for them.’

‘No, you won’t. The state of my place, if I hadn’t been having a clear-out they’d have been hidden there until the kids left home.’

‘Thank you so much, Joan, you don’t realise how much this means to me.’

The wise mum smiled, understanding exactly just how much it did.

Stephen McNair rolled over, lay back and looked up at the ceiling. His smooth chest bore just a few beads of sweat and his breathing was heavy. His auburn locks were all over the place.

‘Do you think that now we’ve done it twice in six years it counts as an affair?’ he said with worry in his voice.

Alana rose up on to one elbow on the crisp white Egyptian cotton sheets in the minimalistic London hotel room, and looked into his eyes. ‘It’s what you want it to be, Mr McNair,’ she slurred slightly, the effect of the two bottles of wine they had shared at lunchtime still with her.

He jumped up, went to the bathroom and gathered a robe. Coming back in, he sat on the edge of the bed and put his head in his hands.

‘I haven’t had sex for ages,’ he blurted out.

‘Glad I could serve a purpose,’ Alana replied coldly.

‘I can’t leave my wife,’ he reacted suddenly.

‘I don’t recall asking you to,’ she said, her voice sharp.

He stood up and looked at his watch. ‘Oh Christ, it’s six o’clock – I really must get home.’

‘Six!’ Alana exclaimed. ‘Inga wanted to leave at seven today – I’ll never make it.’ She shot up out of bed and began pulling her clothes on.

‘Well, don’t for one minute think you’re driving, Alana Murray.’

‘How else am I going to get home?’

In his calm and caring manner Stephen took charge. ‘I will call Sandra, and she can book you a car. Just ask the driver to collect you in the morning then come back in to Chiswick to collect yours.’

‘I feel fine to drive,’ she whined.

‘You’re not driving,’ Stephen reiterated. Catching Alana’s eye, he gathered her to him, murmuring, ‘What are we going to do? You know this isn’t me.’

Alana pulled away quickly.

‘Let’s talk when we’re sober, eh Stephen? At the moment it feels like an awful déjà-vu. Now, get me that bloody car, will you.’

Alana swore as she dropped her front door keys in her drive. The car that Stephen had ordered for her had been warm and comfortable and she had slept most of the way home. The stark reality of life hit her when Inga flew out of the front door, the whites of her pretty eyes showing.

‘That is it, I quit!’ The young au pair strode purposefully down the drive. ‘I meet a boy at seven-thirty and it is now eight. He will not wait for me as the film start already. This is the fourth time you don’t even let me know.’

‘But Inga…’ Alana tried to reason with her but Inga carried on down the drive, head held high. ‘Wait!’ she shouted after her. Inga turned around, her face still like thunder. ‘OK. I promise I will be more communicative in future and I will give you an extra twenty pounds this week if you don’t leave me.’

Inga thought hard.

‘No,’ she said defiantly. ‘I still quit.’

Alana was too weary to argue. She knew that it was too late in the day to get help for the morning and in a way she was relieved as she knew her delayed hangover would not be a good one. She would just have to cancel her meetings and work from home. Stephen could sort getting her car back sometime. She texted him quickly to tell him to cancel the car arranged for the morning. She chose not to end it with a kiss, just in case his wife was around. After all, it was just another one-off, wasn’t it?

‘MUM!’ Eliska threw herself at Alana as soon as the front door shut behind her. ‘Did you get my computer game?’

Alana closed her eyes, suddenly feeling an intense guilt that her daughter had not crossed her mind all day. She thought quickly.

‘Darling, I’ve ordered you one as the shop had sold out. I can pick it up tomorrow.’

‘But you promised it today,’ Eliska sulked.

‘Eliska, please. I’m very tired. It’s been a busy day. How about I make you a nice hot chocolate, you get your pyjamas on and we snuggle up in front of the telly for an hour?’

Silence ensued as Eliska headed upstairs to her bedroom. Grateful she had managed to placate her daughter without too much trouble, Alana took off her smart jacket and put the kettle on. When silence still ensued, Alana began to worry. She slowly walked up the stairs to find her daughter lying on the top of her covers, curled in the foetal position with her thumb in her mouth. She was sound asleep.

Feelings of love rushed through Alana, and she carefully pulled the duvet up over the sleeping child. As she quietly walked to the bedroom door and turned the light off, she felt a piece of paper underfoot. On it were just four words written boldly in one of Alana’s bright red lipsticks: I HATE MY MUM.

Alana gulped and blinked back tears. Surely she wasn’t that bad a mother. Just as she was considering employing a child psychologist, there was a loud knock at the door. Thank goodness, Alana thought. Inga had come to her senses.

She ran down the stairs two at a time and threw the door open. A tall, smartly dressed woman with grey hair in a neat chignon pushed her way past Alana.

‘Now, don’t dither, Lani,’ the woman slurred. ‘I’ve a fierce thirst on me and I want you to go and fix me a large Scotch.’

– Chapter Four –

‘Beans on toast tonight, kids, as you all had school dinners today,’ Joan Brown told her brood.

‘Can we have chips too?’ Clark pleaded, scratching his head.

‘No, but you can have chocolate ice cream for afters,’ Joan said wearily, going over to do a quick search of his crown for any further nits.

‘And chocolate sprinkles?’ Kent added as Cissy bashed her plastic spoon up and down on her high-chair tray.

‘Don’t push it, Sonny Jim.’ Joan pretended to clip his ear.

She suddenly felt very thirsty again and poured herself a pint of water. She looked at her mobile that was on the kitchen table. Strange that Colin hadn’t texted to say he was going to be late. He was usually as reliable as clockwork. Just as she had that thought – beep – a text message appeared.

Going late night shopping for invitations. See you later sweetness x

‘Silly old sod,’ she said under her breath. She was sure the precinct at Durton, where Colin’s office was, didn’t do a late night on a Tuesday. She called him to let him know and it went straight through to voicemail. She smiled as she heard his cheerful voice and began preparing the kids’ tea.

They had been talking about having a joint fortieth birthday party for years and she couldn’t believe that soon it would be a reality.

‘Right, you lovely lot, television off whilst we eat.’

‘Oh Mum.’

‘You know the rules,’ Joan said sternly, suddenly feeling very unwell. Her vision became blurry again and she massaged her forehead.

‘Mummy, what’s wrong?’

‘I need to ring your father.’ Reaching for her mobile, Joan fell forward, crashing a plate off of the table as she did so.

‘Mummy?’ Skye said again, then screamed loudly. Joan lay face down on the table, lifeless.

Kent leaped up from his seat, acting far older than his nine young years. ‘It’s OK. Quick – give me Mummy’s phone.’

As Clark ran to hug his mother, Cissy screamed in her

high chair. Squidge the dog ran round and around the kitchen table barking furiously.

Kent remembered what his daddy had shown him to do in

case of an emergency and swiftly dialled 999.

‘Hello. It’s my mum, I think she’s dead and I don’t know where our daddy is.’

Mo Collins was rounding the corner to post a letter to Charlie, when she saw the ambulance. Grabbing Rosie’s hand, she sped towards her friend’s house. As she got nearer she could hear the children crying outside. On realising it was Joan she shouted out to the ambulance-men: ‘I’m a friend. What’s happened?’

‘Not sure yet, love. Looks like she just fainted, but she’s still not right so we’re taking her to Denbury General for a check over.’

Mo ran to Joan’s side.

‘The children,’ Joan said weakly.

‘Can’t seem to get hold of her old man on his mobile,’ the other ambulance-man offered.

‘Can you look after them?’ Joan managed.

Mo put her hand on her friend’s forehead to soothe her.

‘Of course. And as soon as Colin gets here I’ll send him to you.

I can stay all night if I have to.’

‘Mother?’ Alana’s mouth dropped to the floor as the tall woman barged past her into the kitchen.

‘That’s me, creator of you, my one and only child – but goodness knows why, for the torment it’s brought me. The word offspring makes sense now,’ the woman declared, her Scots accent almost incomprehensible with drink.

‘You can’t just walk in here after six whole years and start on me. Please go, Mum. I’ve got nothing to say to you.’ Alana went to open the front door.

‘I’ve left your stepfather!’ Isobel Murray’s voice grew more strident.

‘Why, this time?’ Alana was used to her mother’s transient affairs of the heart.

‘He was having an affair with his secretary – been going on for years evidently. Makes a mockery of not only me but the whole bloody Bible if you ask me.’ She plonked herself down at the kitchen table. ‘And I’m drunk, Alana. Drunk as a fucking skunk.’

Alana screwed her face up, finding everything almost impossible to take in. Her hangover was kicking in from lunchtime and this was the last thing she needed. Since her father had died when she was just eleven, there had never been any love lost between herself and any of her mother’s unsuitable suitors. Eric, whom she had only known for a year before her mother turned her back on her, was no exception.

Isobel Murray suddenly put her head down sideways on the kitchen table and began to sob uncontrollably. Alana handed her a tissue and filled the kettle. She had never once seen her mother cry and it unnerved her rather than upset her.

‘It’s OK, Mother, there’ll be plenty more idiots lining up to whisk you off your pretty feet, I can assure you.’

‘Oh, the humiliation!’ Isobel lifted her head dramatically. ‘Where did I go wrong?’

Alana thought she could fill a book the size of the New Testament in answering that one but she kept her mouth shut and put three heaped teaspoons of coffee into a mug.

‘Here, drink this, you’ll feel better in the morning.’

Isobel Murray sat up and blew her nose loudly. ‘Thank you, Lani.’ She looked at her daughter intently for a minute and then at a photo of Eliska in a wooden frame on a shelf.

‘That’s my granddaughter, I take it?’ Pausing, she clumsily got up to stroke the glass. ‘She’s beautiful.’ All of a sudden she turned to Alana and grabbed her wrist.

‘I’m so very fucking sorry for being such a bloody useless excuse of a mother.’ Isobel exhaled deeply as if her whole soul had flowed out with the words. ‘There, I’ve said it. Shit – I missed out the word “shallow”.’

She let go of Alana and raised both her palms outwards, like a preacher. ‘I am so very fucking sorry for being such a bloody useless shallow excuse of a mother.’

‘It will take more than a blue apology to wipe away six years of you ignoring us,’ Alana replied calmly.

‘But you were having a child out of wedlock. You vowed never to tell me who the father was. I mean, what would they have thought at church? Tell me, Alana, what was I supposed to do?’

Alana felt herself welling up now. ‘You were supposed to just love me, Mum.’ She tried to stop herself crying, but a real emotion can never be hidden and suddenly a strangled sob tore from her heart.

‘I cannot believe you haven’t even asked me her name,’ she wept. She eventually got herself under control and then was engulfed by a wave of anger. ‘Now, just piss off and leave us alone! We don’t need you here, either of us.’

‘Where shall I go?’ Isobel said, selfish as ever and seemingly unperturbed by her only daughter’s outburst.

‘You can go to hell as far as I’m concerned.’ Alana pushed her mother out, slammed the front door and put her back against it, then went and sat down and cried her eyes out.

When Alana had not one tear left inside of her, she poured herself a large glass of wine and downed it in one. The even larger whisky that followed caused her to crawl up the stairs. On reaching the landing, she kicked off her shoes, sneaked into her daughter’s single bed and snuggled against her soft, warm neck.

The little girl, oblivious to the anguish of two generations before her, snored gently.

– Chapter Five –

‘Diabetes apparently,’ Mo said once, twice, three times over as various mums questioned why the ever-present Joan was not dropping her kids off. She overheard Emily Pritchard meanly comment that it was probably due to Joan over-eating the wrong type of foods, and Mo glared at her.

Alana held Eliska’s hand and pushed her way through the gabbling throng of morning mothers. Despite her hangover, she still looked immaculate with her full make-up, designer jeans and heels.