Unlike a Virgin (31 page)

‘Really?’ asks Claire.

‘Well, I’ve chosen him as my brother.’

‘I don’t blame you,’ Claire mouths to me while Bob walks over to Daisy, with Patrick trailing behind. We watch him as he sits down on the sofa with the two of them. ‘
Come Dine With Me!
A classic. Are you the new Delia?’

‘Would you like a tea or coffee, Bob?’

‘I would love a tea,’ he says. ‘If it’s not too much trouble.’

‘No, no trouble.’

It’s starting to feel like an electricity showroom in here. I feel I should pop outside.

‘Where’s the wee one?’ I ask Claire.

‘In the bedroom.’

‘Can I have a peep?’

‘’Course.’

I creep into Claire’s bedroom and over to the crib. Baby Ruby lies awake on her back, her little white babygroed body laying in a comfortable sprawl. Her eyes are wide and her lips open and close contentedly. I gaze at her, at the wonder of it all, and I touch my belly. Soon, I’ll have a baby lying like this in my room. I reach my finger through the wooden crib bars and feel Ruby’s tiny digits wrap themselves around it. I smile at her and a tune comes into my head. It’s vague at first, and I don’t know why it’s coming to me. I hear a few guitar chords and suddenly I’m singing. I’m singing to baby Ruby, but also to my baby, to little Camilla or Cam. It’s a Bob Dylan song and I can’t remember the last time I heard it, but it’s perfect and true. I remember now, it’s a blessing he wrote for a child. It’s called ‘Forever Young’. I turn away from Ruby and close my eyes as I try to remember the words. I probably end up making most of them up, but I don’t care. I’m singing to my baby. I’m going to give it music just like my dad gave me. See, it all comes good in the end.

‘What CD’s this?’ Claire says, bursting in.

‘Oh, sorry,’ I say, opening my eyes. ‘I got carried away.’

‘Was that you?’

‘Yes.’ I laugh.

‘I didn’t know you could sing.’

‘I haven’t for years.’

‘You should never stop.’

‘You’ve got another one,’ Bob whispers, tiptoeing over to the crib.

‘Guys, I’m pregnant. I’m having a baby. I wanted you to know.’

‘Oh, Grace,’ says Claire, looking overcome.

Bob just stares.

‘Are you, Gracie Flowers?’ he asks, as though he doesn’t believe it.

I nod.

‘Can I be Uncle Bob,’ he whispers.

I nod and he grabs me into a hug.

‘Right, Grace, promise me he or she will be QPR through and through. Don’t let those Arsenal swines get him. You’ve got to promise me on this.’

‘I shall leave the baby’s football education entirely down to you.’

He kisses my head.

‘Good on you, sis. And if you need anything, I’m your man.’

‘Thanks.’

‘Right, we’d best get back. Claire, it’s been a pleasure. And I’d like to put an offer in of five grand over the asking price.’

I stare at him.

‘But, but …’ Claire stammers. ‘You haven’t seen the bathroom.’

‘A bathroom’s a bathroom,’ he says casually.

As we’re walking back to the van, I whisper to him, ‘You were only supposed to act interested.’

‘What is the asking price by the way?’

‘Seven nine five.’

He whistles. I run in front of him and indicate that he should stop moving. We’re standing face to face but I can’t wait any longer.

‘Will you be the godfather?’ I blurt out.

‘For real?’

‘Yep.’

‘You’ll set me off!’

‘Is that a yes?’ I ask keenly.

‘Is it … ? Course!’

I gasp, thrilled. Cam or Camilla will have the coolest godparents. Leonard and Joan, Wendy and Bob. I don’t think babies usually have this many godparents, but my baby won’t have a christening in the Christian sense. He or she will have a naming ceremony, like I did, where close friends are invited to make wishes for the baby. A bit like in
Sleeping Beauty,
but without the bad witch turning up and cursing the child.

‘I can’t believe you offered on her flat,’ I say, stunned.

‘Neither can I.’

I gasp.

‘I’ve got an idea. There’s this lovely family, and they saw the flat when it was in a right state. If we could give the place a good old clean, I could get them round to see it again, and I just have a feeling they’ll take it.’

‘Gracie Flowers, you’re dynamite. I’ll pay for some industrial cleaners to go in there, that should do the trick.’

‘Brilliant!’ I whoop.

‘Maybe I could take Claire and the kids to the zoo while they’re cleaning,’ he adds dreamily.

My baby is so loved already. Not just by me, but by everyone I tell. Today is the biggie, though. Lube. He might not be so thrilled.

‘Oh, Grace, love, I’ll gag if I have to go in there,’ he says, stepping away from the toilet door. ‘Spray the air freshener, will you, and open a window?’ he asks.

‘Oh, yeah,’ I say, walking into the office loo. ‘I see your point.’

I do what he asks. ‘OK,’ I sniff. ‘It’s relatively safe now.’

He nods, enters and sits on the toilet with the seat down.

‘You have to keep this brief, Grace, I’ve got a plane to catch, darling. Now, what is it you wanted to talk about?’

‘Maternity packages,’ I say, but I’m not very good at talking about anything baby-related without breaking into a smile.

Lube doesn’t smile.

‘Ken?’ I say, peering down into his face.

‘Did you say maternity packages?’

‘Yes.’

‘Are you planning …?’

‘No, I am.’

‘You are! Well, well, well, blow me down. Little Gracie Flowers with a babby. Oh, I feel as though I’m about to become a granddad. Oh, Grace, I might cry.’

‘Do you want a tissue?’

‘No. No, love, it was just a moment. So how are you feeling?’

‘Happy, Ken. I feel so happy.’

‘You look it. I’m dead proud, me. Best thing I’ve ever done having me kids.’

I smile. Then I stop smiling.

‘But how will it work? I mean, can I work? I want to work, obviously, and I’ll get childcare and Mum wants to help, but I’ll need time off to have it and it won’t be so easy for me to work all the frigging time, like I do now.’

‘As far as I’m concerned, Grace, you’re the best in the biz. What you want, you get. I’ll do my best to make it work for you. We’ll draw something up, don’t you worry.’

‘Seriously?’

‘Too right. I knew we’d have this conversation one day. There was never a question. You have to have kids. We need more Gracie Flowers in this world.’

‘Oh, now I think you’ll make me cry!’

‘Come here,’ he says, giving me a hug. I love Lube hugs. He’s short for a man, so I come up to his chest. It can get a bit uncomfortable when I hug really tall men and find myself pressed against their belt area.

‘GRACE!’ It’s Wendy shouting from outside. ‘GRACE!
Come here now! GRACE! It’s your mum!’

‘Sorry, Mum on the phone. I’d best go.’ I walk out of the toilet to find Wendy standing at her desk.

‘GRACE! GRACE! YOUR MUM’S HERE!’

‘Wendy, I’m here. What line’s she on?’

‘No, Grace, she’s here. Like there.’ And she points to the road outside. I turn my head.

‘Oh. My. God.’

My mum is being carried across the Chamberlayne Road by evil SJS Construction man.

‘What the …?’

And it looks like they’re coming in here. I run to meet them at the door, and it’s then that I see the state of my mum. She’s clinging to him. I can see her fists as they grip onto the fabric of his shirt. Her face is turned into his chest and her shoulders are shaking. Her whole body’s quivering.

‘Grace? It’s Grace, isn’t it?’ the man pants as he swoops my mother into the office and lays her on the sofa. She doesn’t let him go. She’s sobbing in loud, irregular shudders. I can’t go to her yet. I haven’t seen her like this since she broke down at the hospital when I was having my freak-out, and I couldn’t go to her then.

‘I found her on the side of the road,’ the man says as I stare at him.

‘She said she was on her way to the bank. She was in a terrible state.’

This doesn’t make sense. My mum doesn’t go to the bank. She does everything online. She doesn’t need cash because she doesn’t leave the house.

Her sobs get quieter.

‘Mum, mum,’ I say, finally walking towards her.

She’s still clinging to the man. I rub her back and shoulders slowly and rhythmically until eventually she relaxes. Her breathing returns to normal, but she doesn’t show her face. She must be embarrassed.

‘It’s all right, Mum. You’re all right. You’re safe,’ I whisper.

‘I’m going to take her back to my house,’ the man says. ‘I thought I should let you know first.’

Who does he think he is?

‘No! I’ll look after her now,’ I tell him coolly. ‘I’ll take her home.’

He looks down, as though he’s disappointed by my answer or hurt by my tone. What was he expecting? I’m hardly going to allow this man, who wants to build on my dad’s grave, to look after my mum.

‘Hello, Mildred, m’dear. How are you? Have you missed us?’ I whisper as we cross the threshold into the house.

Mum’s still weak and distant, like the old mum from the dark years, not the mum I’ve been spending time with recently. It’s heartbreaking. She walks silently into the hall and I follow her.

‘Why don’t you go upstairs and have a bath?’ I suggest.

She looks at me. It’s a pitiful look and I don’t know what her big searching eyes are asking me.

‘You’ll be fine,’ I chipper. ‘Next time you want to go out somewhere, we’ll go together, then if it gets tough you can hold on to me. But it was good you tried, no? And good that the evil graveyard destroyer found you.’

She nods.

‘Even if he is an ogre.’

Suddenly she flinches. I put my hand on her shoulder and find she’s trembling.

‘Mum, what’s the matter?’

‘I heard something.’

‘Just something outside. Footsteps on gravel. It’s bound to be someone kindly dropping off an advert for a kebab shop.’

‘Come upstairs,’ she whispers urgently and darts up the stairs two at time.

‘Mum, no, what’s the—’

I hear a loud, strong knock on the door. My mum crouches on the stairs.

‘Don’t get it, Grace!’

‘Mum?’

I haven’t seen my mum this bad for years. She’s literally bricking it about a knock on the door.

‘Grace, come up,’ she whispers, beckoning me to follow her up the stairs. It’s the door again, louder than before.

‘Jesus,’ I mutter. ‘That’s a Victorian knocker. Have some respect!’ I’m walking towards the door, on my way to open it, when suddenly there’s an explosion. Well, it’s not an actual explosion, but it sounds like one. I shield my face as glass flies towards me, and I hear a thud. Something’s been thrown through the window into the house. It’s a brick. There’s a brick lying on the floor in the hallway. It’s broken the coloured glass in the hallway window. It could have hit me. This isn’t the worst of it, though. The worst part, the scariest part, is that a man is shouting. I can’t see him through the hole in the window, but I can hear him.

‘Rosemary, you can’t keep ignoring us. Let us in or we’ll break all the windows. If you haven’t got what we need, you know the deal, we’ll take what we want.’

Mum looks as though she’s having a panic attack on the
stairs. Loud irregular breaths are making her body quiver. I stride to the door.

‘Hello? What’s the matter?’ I shout as I slowly open the front door.

A huge man is standing in the middle of the drive, holding a brick as though he’s about to hurl it at another window.

‘What’s …?’ My heart is hammering so much I can hear it. ‘What’s going on? I’m Rosemary’s daughter,’ I say, desperately trying to sound more confident than I feel.

The man relaxes the hand holding the brick and drops it to his side. He stares at me menacingly as another man appears around the side of the house. They’re both huge. Heavies, you’d call them. They look like they’ve served time for ABH and do a bit of work as bouncers or debt collectors. Debt collectors! Of course. This is something to do with Mum’s debt. Oh God, she hasn’t got a dodgy loan from some crooks, has she?

‘Does she owe something?’

The man with the brick laughs.

‘Yes, she owes us four thousand pounds cash. We should have had it Tuesday. We’ve given her two days and now we’ve stopped playing nice.’

‘Four grand?’

‘Very good, darling. Very good.’

‘OK. I’ll get it for you.’

‘Now we’re talking. We’ll be back in an hour. You’ve got one hour. He looks at his watch. I’ll be back at nine. That’s an hour and five minutes. Don’t say I haven’t got a heart.’