Bad Mothers United (31 page)

I should have said no, but Dex insisted.

‘Jesus, girl. You was asking for a lift earlier,’ said Jen. ‘And it’ll be ages before we can get you a taxi. They’re all tied up with school runs this time of
day. So if we don’t take you now, you’ll miss your train. Be stuck here. With us. Imagine that.’

‘We’ll go straight to the station?’

‘Course we will.’

I knew they weren’t being honest only I didn’t feel I had a choice. It’s hard when you’re in a strange city and everyone you love is two hundred miles away.

We all climbed into his stinky Saxo and set off down the back streets. I was holding my bag so tightly my finger-ends had gone numb. Sure enough, five minutes in and Dex began saying we should
call round at his son’s because we were pretty much going past and he needed to drop something off. I said that would make us late. Jen sat in the front and stared out of the window.
‘I’ll ring my mum,’ I threatened at one point, and I saw her shift in her seat, half-turn towards me. Her eyes held a kind of spiteful triumph.

‘Like fuck you will. Like you’re going to tell her you were
ever here
.’

And I knew that what she said was absolutely true. Mum must never know I’d been here and met this evil-minded cow.

Without warning the car swerved up onto the kerb and Dex pulled on the handbrake.

‘Why are we stopping?’ I said. ‘My train!’

He pointed to the row of shops opposite, and the bank. ‘See that cashpoint? Yeah? Just nip across and draw us out fifty, will you?’

I gaped at him stupidly.

‘Go on. Then we’ll take you straight to Euston and you’ll never hear from us again.’

‘And if I don’t?’

Dex sighed. Jen had shut herself off from the whole proceedings, fixing her gaze ahead and saying nothing.

My hand groped for the door handle.

‘Or seventy,’ said Dex.

I leaned hard on the door and it flew open. I stumbled out and, legs wobbling, made it across the busy road. From there I walked past the bank, and into the newsagent next door where I stood
in full view of the window, facing the car. Then, slowly and clearly, I retrieved my phone and switched it on, holding it up to my ear so Dex could see.

After a minute the car drove away.

I closed my eyes in relief and, at the same moment, the mobile began to ring.

It was ludicrously early, not even light outside. I’d crept downstairs after an upsetting dream I couldn’t remember, and stuck the TV on low so as not to disturb
Walshy or Gemma. For the first half-hour I’d watched a programme about a dance school and a bunch of nervy anorexic teens who studied there, which was mildly interesting. But that programme
had finished and now it was snooker and I was too weary even to bother switching channels. The screen showed a close-up of coloured shiny balls jammed inside a triangle, then the frame was lifted
away. Seconds later the formation was smashed apart. The balls sprang in different directions to ricochet off the table-edge or each other, scattering themselves across the green cloth. And I
thought, That’s how my life is right now, blasted.

Back in another county, Dad was laid out on a hospital bed with actual metal screws driven into his skin, and a tangle of tubes going in and out all over. One tube was morphine, I knew because
the nurse kept having to come and change the cartridge. The one at the foot of the bed was for holding wee. I tried not to look at that. Mum had said before I went in the first time that it was
really important I didn’t freak out in case I upset him. She kept stressing that. God, though, it was difficult. I’ve never seen anyone so bashed up. With respect to my mum, I reckon
I could have said pretty much anything to him, waltzed round the HDU in a ballgown, and he wouldn’t have turned a hair. He was too drugged up. Yet Mum was adamant, in the face of all the
evidence, that he was going to end up OK. I wasn’t convinced her definition of OK was the same as mine. I’m pretty sure she just meant Not Dead. After that initial visit, I’d
texted Dan – more to head him off than anything, I didn’t have enough strength left to deal with him turning up in person – and he’d been shocked and kind and let me speak
to his father, which helped a bit. You have so many questions and there’s never anyone around on the wards who seems able to answer them.

Obviously the next thing I’d done was put York on hold. Final year or not, there was no way I was leaving Dad in that state, and also I was needed to look after Will while Mum hung round
the hospital. But, three weeks down the line, she’d persuaded me to go back because we were winding each other up and because it was crucial I didn’t blow my degree on top of
everything else. By then we’d had so many offers of babysitting she was able to draw up a rota stretching for months. Colleagues from school, parents of kids she taught, the massed ranks of
the over-seventies, everyone wanted to help. ‘It is amazing how people step up in a crisis,’ she said. ‘I didn’t know so many people were bothered about me.’

Meanwhile, in an entirely separate nightmare, I spent every spare second sweating over the Jessie/Jen woman: the possibility of her trailing after me, pursuing me for cash, threatening to
reveal to Mum how I’d sneaked behind her back. Ringing our front doorbell, barging her horrible way in. What kind of bitch had I unleashed there? How far might she push? I still
wasn’t sure if she was mad, desperate or plain criminal. Should I have given her money? Or might that have opened the floodgates? Even though I’d told her no, she could come. And then
Mum, already so near the edge, would tip right over.
My God, Charlotte, who is this woman? What the hell have you been up to?
Again and again I went over the information I’d let
slip whilst I was in Jessie’s flat – our daily routines, the places we visited, so many different ways she could smash her way into our lives. Random details – the smell of air
freshener, a pile of dirty bedding – brought back the visit with sickening clarity. That godawful train journey home, replaying Mum’s message on my phone, having to lie to her that I
was coming back from York. Not knowing whether Dad would be alive when I got to him. The overwhelming sense that Fate was punishing me for my deceit.

What the hell had I been thinking when I took myself to London? Some tangle of selfish logic about how Mum being miserable was mainly a drag on me, and how superior I was to her when it came
to rolling up my sleeves and sorting out problems. Trust Charlotte to take charge. Charlotte’ll make it better. Hah. It hadn’t been my business, it wasn’t my mystery to piece
together.

What would Daniel have said? I tried to conjure him up, but this time he wouldn’t come. My fault for telling him to keep away, I supposed. All I could visualise was his bedroom wall, the
poster of Einstein I’d bought him, the case of scarab beetles below it. I must have lain in his bed for hours, staring at his ranked insects while he explained to me the biological function
of iridescence, the properties of chitin, the differences between katydids and cicadas. An ache of longing pierced me. What was he up to now? Who was he with?

A sound on the stairs made me whip round. Here came Walshy, pale and ruffled in his ridiculous Chinese robe.

‘Fuck’s sake, Walshman,’ I said. ‘You nearly gave me a heart attack.’

‘I am incredibly threatening.’ He slouched against the doorframe. The robe fell open.

‘Make yourself decent, at least.’

‘Some might say you shouldn’t have been looking. What you doing up at this time?’

‘Trying to unravel the knots in my head. What about you? You don’t normally grace us with your presence till gone eleven.’

‘Gotta be off to Stranraer in a couple of hours. Dad’s girlriend’s mum’s funeral. If I’m late for that, Dad’ll come after me with a shotgun.’

‘God, I’m sorry. I didn’t know. Are you OK?’

He rubbed his eyes. ‘I never met the woman. I’m only going as a show of family support, show Dad I’m behind him, blah blah. Though obviously it’s a shame the old
biddy’s dead.’

‘I hope they’re not relying on you to give the eulogy. Oh, you might need to shave before you set off, too.’

‘Yeah, I know I look like shit. I’ve been up all night, which doesn’t help.’

‘How come?’

‘Talking the night away with Gemma.’ He swung across and flopped down next to me.

Gemma and Walshy? That took me by surprise. Had I missed something while I was away?

He laughed at my expression. ‘Yeah, that’s right. She decided to become un-gay over the summer and we’re back together.’

‘You’re not!’

‘Nah, we’re not. She’s just having a freaky time right now and wanted someone to moan at. I came down for an aspirin around midnight, she was in the kitchen. We got chatting,
drank a shed-load of coffee and the next thing you know it’s nearly morning. She’s gone off to bed but I’ve this funeral to get to, so I thought I’d make some toast, crank
up my energy levels for the day. You want some? I can even scrape the fur off the jam.’

‘Go on, then.’

I followed him into the kitchen and he flicked on the light. I said, ‘Aren’t you tired at all?’

‘Nope. I run on adrenalin. I’m like a panther.’

‘There’s not enough meat on you to make a panther. Weasel, maybe. So what was up with Gemma? Can you say?’

Walshy set the toaster off, then settled at the table opposite me. ‘She had a bad summer. I mean, a
bad
one.’

‘Did she? How come? She texted she was fed up one time but she didn’t go into details. I thought she was just bored.’

‘I think the situation wasn’t reducible to text-speak.’

‘So what’s happened?’

‘Basically, her mum’s giving her a load of grief about coming out, and her dad’s just following the same line because that’s what he always does. They’ve been
fairly shitty about it. Wouldn’t let her tell their friends. Monitored her calls, tried to find out who’d “turned” her so they could “take action”. Wanted her
to go and see a psychiatrist in case she could be “straightened out”.’

‘No way!’

‘Apparently yes.’

‘Jesus. I’m amazed. I thought they were cool. Gemma told me at the end of term she was pretty sure her parents would just accept it.’

Walshy rubbed his eyes. ‘If I told my dad I was a woofter, he’d go into meltdown. Chuck me out, disinherit me, the works. Mind you, I say that: perhaps he’d be OK after it
had sunk in. Who knows? I guess it’s one of those calls you can’t judge till it happens. You tend to lose perspective here because the uni’s so liberal, but out in the real
world there are nutters setting off bombs outside gay bars. Society’s phobic, by and large.’

‘Depressing-Thought for the Day.’

The toast popped up.

I said, ‘I wish she’d confided in me.’

‘She would have done, sooner or later. I think she was concerned about your dad and stuff, didn’t want to lay on any extra hassle. Anyway, I’ve told her she can move her
girlfriend in if that’ll help. I presume you’re OK with that?’

‘Girlfriend?’ I hadn’t seen that coming.

‘I thought you’d be fine. This is Gemma we’re talking about. Your mate.’

‘Yeah, yeah. Sorry, course I am. Of course. Anyway, it’s your house, blimey, you invite who you want. It’s just, we’ve never even met her, and Roz might not be that
comfortable with it. Which I know is Roz’s problem, but then again she was here first and we all have to live alongside each other . . .’

As I was speaking, Walshy got up and began to assemble crockery, knives, spreads. ‘Roz isn’t here any more.’

‘What?’

‘She’s gone.’

It took a moment for me to process the information. ‘You mean, isn’t part of the house? Eh? How have I missed this?’ It was true I’d not seen her since I’d been
back, but that was less than a week and I’d assumed she’d just been round at Gareth’s. The door of her room had been closed so I had no idea if she’d moved her stuff.

‘We haven’t wanted to bother you, what with things being so crap at home.’

‘Well, you should have! She’s not chucked in the course, has she, gone back to her parents? Shit, is the baby OK?’ I’d blurted it out before I’d realised.

‘It’s all right, she told us. We know.’

‘And what? What’s happened?’

‘There is no baby, Chaz.’

The news fell with a thud across my chest.

‘How?’

Walshy came back to the table. He set the plates down carefully.

‘She couldn’t go through with it. She went home, had a chat with her mum – didn’t tell her dad, he still doesn’t know – and talked it over again with
Gareth. In the end she decided on an abortion.’

‘When?’

‘Middle of the summer. She came back here to have it, away from the village, from people she knew.’ He paused to bite into his toast.

‘But we were
texting
then.’ I tried to remember what messages we’d exchanged. Some of mine had gone unanswered, I was vaguely aware. I’d assumed she was busy,
hadn’t thought too much of it. Then there’d been a gap, then Dad’s accident, and now it dawned on me, nothing for weeks. ‘Jesus. I can’t believe she didn’t say
anything.’

‘She’s been too frightened to tell you. Well . . .’ He saw my expression. ‘Not frightened. Worried. About how you’d react.’

‘Me?’

‘Because of Will. You having done the whole birth thing, she thought you’d be angry with her.’

I swallowed. ‘
No.
Angry? No! Where is she now?’

‘Gareth wanted her to move in with him. Which is something she’s been angling for, so that’s kind of worked out. I saw her last week, at the union. She’s coping OK and
she says to tell you hi. And sorry.’

Sorry. I stared at the toast and felt sick. Frightened of me! How could she ever have thought I’d condemn her over something so difficult? Oh, Roz.

I grasped Walshy’s sleeve, the silk slippery and cool under my fingertips. ‘Did you
say
I wouldn’t judge her? Did you say “Charlotte’s a friend, she
wouldn’t think that way”?’

He nodded, his mouth full of toast.

‘Because this is awful. I have to talk to her, let her know she got me wrong. I wish she’d rung me. I’d have come over. God, what a thing to have to go through on your
own.’

‘She wasn’t on her own.’

‘Did Gareth—?’

‘It was me, actually. I took her to the clinic.’

‘You?’

He shrugged. ‘It wasn’t planned. I was around anyway. Dad’s girlfriend was being spectacularly annoying, so I’d come back to York to get out of the way. Then Roz turned
up in tears. Gareth was supposed to be taking her but they’d had a big fight. She didn’t want to go alone. I offered. That’s it.’

‘That can’t have been it. How did she cope? What was the clinic like?’

‘Like, you know, a clinic. All
I
had to do was sit and wait. Then I drove her home and supplied room service for the rest of the day. Afterwards Gareth came round and they made
up and he took her back to his. No big deal.’

It bloody is a big deal, I thought, because never in a million years would I have put you down for a mission like that. Sensible, supportive Walshy? I’ve had you so wrong. Beneath all
the backchat and posing, you’re actually pretty solid and it’s creeping me out. Go back to being flip, you bastard. Then we all know where we stand.

‘And is Roz really OK? Was she very upset? Has she let her tutors know? I can’t believe nobody told me what was going on. Walshy, I’ve got to see her.’

He shoved the plate of toast in my direction. ‘Go round there today.’

‘I can’t. It’s Will’s birthday. I’ve to be in Bank Top by dinnertime.’

‘That’s you scuppered, then.’

‘I could ring. I could call her from the train. Or text and say I’ll be round tomorrow and wait for her to reply. Check out how she sounds. She will want to see me, won’t
she? What do you think?’

Walshy stretched and yawned extravagantly. ‘God, you girls do get yourselves in a tizz. Course she’ll want to see you. Just save her a party bag and a balloon. Bit of cake and
coloured icing. That should fix it.’

And I thought, Yep, that’s the Walsh we’re used to. Normal crassness has been resumed.