Breach of Faith (29 page)

It didn’t really matter who the house belonged to, the mourners would be descending very soon and there were still a few things to get ready. Having the wake at the house had been Frank’s idea, when he was still alive of course.

“There won’t be too many people to feed,” he’d said, a wry grin on his face, “most of the people I know don’t live around here. I don’t reckon they’d know I was dead until it was too late. If you cater for around ten, fifteen people, that should be plenty.”

I shook my head with my own wry smile, ten or fifteen thousand, more like. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration but I’d heard from at least fifty well-wishers over the last couple of days, displaying sorrow and shock over the news and I reckoned at least sixty people were soon going to try to cram themselves into Frank’s modest three bedroom home.

“Thank God for Martha,” I muttered as I watched my friend stride down the front path, frowning at the broken gate as she went past. I could also add Paula and Stuart to that list. Without their support I would more than likely have fallen utterly to pieces.

As people started to arrive and the house began to fill up, I found myself the centre of attention. Everyone wanted to commiserate, offer support and friendship, and express sincere pleasure at the news that Frank’s genes would live on. Everyone wanted to touch my belly.

It had been a long day and both Kensie and Tom had fallen asleep in the back bedroom. Checking on them, I wondered if anyone would notice if I disappeared for a while as well so, sidling furtively towards the back door, I escaped into the garden. The heavy, humid atmosphere had dissuaded all but the most avid outdoor dwellers from venturing out. A few drops of rain had also helped to keep the mourners inside and for this, I would be eternally grateful.

Despite the humid oppressiveness I suddenly felt freer than I had in days, as if invisible shackles had finally been removed. I ran my fingers through my tangled hair, suddenly feeling exhausted. A mental and physical fatigue that drained every ounce of energy. I staggered over to the garden seat in the relative shelter of the gazebo, sat down and closed my eyes, sighing deeply as my tired limbs attempted to recuperate.

“I do not want to move ever again,” I declared, “not ever. And if anyone wants me … well, they can just go to hell.”

“Does that include me?” the quiet enquiry came from right beside me and I opened my eyes to find myself staring deep into two very familiar hazel orbs.

With a smile of genuine pleasure I looked at the man beside me. “I thought you’d gone,” I whispered. “I thought you’d gone for good. Thank
you for coming back.”

26 February

Turning to face him, I slapped him on the arm. “Where the bloody hell have you been?”

Angus grinned, “Kate, do I really have to remind you that I’m dead?”

I punched him this time. “Bloody smart arse. Where have you been? I thought you’d gone for good.”

The smile faded, replaced with a confused look and he rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So did I. When I left you in
England I assumed I’d … well, I’d ascend, I suppose.”

“Ascend?”

He glared at me as I tried not to laugh. “Well, what would you call it?”

“Sorry,” I forced an apologetic look to my face. “So what happened? Why didn’t you … ascend?”

Appeased slightly, Angus’s good humour returned. “Wouldn’t have a bloody clue, to tell you the truth. I got stuck in that Limbo I told you about, where everything feels weird and time has no meaning. Remember?”

“So there was no tunnel of light? No mysterious voice telling you to come forth, young man, and meet your maker?”

Angus poked me. “Now who’s being a smart arse?”

“So what did happen?”

Angus leaned towards me. “I woke up next to you, my sweet.”

“What? When?”

“Just now. Here” He gestured towards the bench. “I woke to find you talking to yourself as usual.” He took my hand gently, “Kate, I’m sorry about your friend, I know how much you wanted him to be here for the birth.”

I took a deep breath, “thank you.” I peered around interestedly like a worm poking its head out of the dirt. “Is he here? With us?”

Angus shook his head, “no, Kate, Frank’s not here.”

“Will I see him again, like I see you?”

Angus shrugged, “no idea. I’m a bit of a virgin at all this, I’m afraid. Most of the time I don’t even know why I’m here.”

I snorted, “nothing much has changed over the years then.”

Angus frowned, “oh that’s nice. Really nice, woman. What is this, ‘pick on the dead guy day’?”

Abashed, I bowed my head. “I apologise,” I said formally, only a small smile giving my humour away. “So why are you here,” I asked at last, “lost another kid?”

“Very funny. I did want to thank you, though, for everything you did with Charlotte.”

“You came all this way just to thank me?”

Angus smiled, “no, actually I came all this way to tell you a story.”

*

“Once upon a time,” he was hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how to begin. So I thought I’d help him out.

“Once upon a time,” I repeated, “there was a daddy bear, a mummy bear and a baby bear, and they all lived –”

“Kate!”

“Sorry.”

“Once upon a time …” he tried again, scowling at me, daring me to interrupt. I sat demurely, my hands in my lap, peering intently into his eyes. When he was sure I was being serious he continued, “… there was a young man. Let’s call him … er … Angus.”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, coincidence, isn’t it. Anyway, Angus was a strong, handsome chap –”

“Of course.”

“—who had lots and lots of friends –”

“Are you drunk?”

Angus nudged me in the ribs with his elbow making me grunt. “listen and be patient, Kate Hunter, for once in your life. Now, Angus’s friends were not particularly savoury characters. They got into trouble with the police, took drugs, drank too much … well, you know the sort of thing.”

“You’ve already told me about your past.”

“Angus’s past,” he corrected with a twinkle in his eye.”

“Okay,
Angus’s
past.” I sighed, “I appreciate that you want to share
his
story with me but –”

“Patience, Kate. One day, I …
Angus
woke up and realised he was a loser. He decided to change and faced a long, hard road ahead. The drugs were the easy bit, Kate, for some reason I found it painless to drop the habit and kick the crap.”

I bit my lip and forced myself to stay quiet. Angus hadn’t even noticed that he had started to refer to himself in the first person and I wasn’t willing to interrupt and point it out. I was too intrigued to find out where this was going.

After a short pause, Angus continued.

“It was the alcohol that hit me harder. Damn that bloody stuff, it fucked me right up. I thought I could handle it by myself, you know, cold turkey, but I kept falling off the wagon. Then I’d jump back on, determined this time to succeed, just to tumble straight back off again. Finally, I admitted the truth and got the help I needed. My doctor strongly suggested a trip to AA.”

“Strongly suggested?”

Angus looked me directly in the eye and shrugged. “The doc reckoned I was on the slippery slope to my own death.” He chuckled suddenly, “I’ll bet he’s eating his words now … didn’t expect me to die in a car crash, did he.”

“Angus!” I was shocked.

“Sorry, couldn’t resist.”

I raised my eyebrows at him, “did you go to AA?”

He nodded, “best decision I’d ever made. The doc was right, I wouldn’t have got through it alone. They knew exactly what I was going through and how best to help me. I was appointed a helper, a kind of mentor, and he was there for me day and night to guide me through the rough patches.”

“But you got through in the end.”

“After a couple of false starts and a lot of time with my mentor, Julian, I managed to kick the habit and stay right away from the booze. Julian was a long term addict who’d been clean for many years and he showed me all the tricks of staying sober.”

“He sounds like a life saver.”

“He was,” Angus smiled sadly, “he gave me every telephone number he owned, told me to call any time, day or night. He was my best friend at the time, in fact, if I was still alive he would probably still be my best friend.”

I frowned, “Angus, why are you telling me this now? Do you want me to find him?”

Angus grinned, “no, my impatient little possum, I want you to listen.” He shifted on the hard bench, turning towards me. “Unfortunately, my family frowned upon our friendship.”

I was bemused, “why? When all he was doing was saving your life?”

“Well, they didn’t know that. It was too painful to talk about so they didn’t even know about AA. Where they were concerned, my relationship with Julian was … let’s just say, it was a little too close.”

“Too close?” I bit my lip and tried not to laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s not funny really but do you mean they thought you were gay?”

Angus nodded, “It was a tough time. My mum and dad hated Julian, thought he was a bad influence, a gay man who’d stolen their son. Quite ironic, really. One day they sent my sister to follow me.”

“Oh no. What happened?”

“She saw us going into a meeting, an AA meeting. It was being held at the house of one of the members because our usual meeting place was having work done to it.”

“So they worked out what was going on? They must have been so embarrassed they’d jumped to conclusions.”

“Actually, they put two and two together and came up with a grand total of five. They assumed it was Julian’s house and that I was there for … well, their wild imaginations filled in a lot of non-existent blanks.”

“A steamy night of sex and passion?” I suggested slyly.

Angus gave me a funny look, “yeah, something like that.”

“So then what?”

“Well, they confronted me the following day. Urged me to take precautions because Julian might have some horrible disease and suggested a holiday might be a wonderful idea. Alone. Without my
boyfriend
.”

“Ouch,” I grimaced.

“Ouch indeed. It took a bit of explaining to get them to understand that my relationship with Julian did not involve penises, fondling or snogging. Funnily enough, they seemed relieved when I told them I was an alcoholic.”

“Better to drink too much than have sex with another man? Parents can be very strange creatures sometimes, can’t they?”

Angus gave me a sideways look and smiled. “So can wives, Kate, very strange creatures. They jump to conclusions, abuse and accuse, then finally ask the questions they should have asked in the beginning. All a bit backward if you ask me.”

“Wife? I didn’t know you had one?”

Angus looked me full in the face, then leaned forward and kissed me lightly on the cheek. “I don’t,” he whispered, his mouth close to my ear. “I wasn’t talking about me, Kate, I was talking about you.”

18 May

I grabbed Martha’s arm, tugging her out of the way before an errant cyclist knocked her off her feet. Scowling, I turned towards the retreating bike rider. “Arsehole, watch where you’re going you little prick.”

Martha glanced at me. “So, apart from swearing at eleven year old kids on bikes who really should be at school, everything has been going really well?”

I let go of Martha’s arm, grinned self-consciously and waved to the cyclist, who had halted twenty metres away. “Sorry,” I called. He responded by flipping me the bird.

“Bloody brat. Kids have no respect, these days.”

We laughed and continued our slow walk along the edge of the duck pond, me waddling like one of the ducks we had just finished feeding, my massive belly leading the way.

Martha looked at me curiously. “I noticed you visiting Will again yesterday. Are you two getting back together?”

I shrugged, “we’re just taking it slowly. The kids need their dad and it’s been nice spending time with him. A bit like dating again.”

“You were telling me something about the funeral before I almost got run down by a kamikaze cyclist.”

I snorted in amusement. “Angus was at the wake, told me a very interesting story.”

“What about?”

“Something that had happened to himself many years ago. Oh, Martha, I’ve been such an idiot. All that time I thought I was in control but I didn’t have a bloody clue.” I stepped gingerly around a large patch of duck poo. “Can you believe that a dead man I haven’t seen in twenty years knows more about what’s happening in my life than I do?”

Martha laughed, “I’m sorry to say this, Kate, but yes, I can.”

I nudged Martha in the ribs, “great friend you turned out to be.”

“What did he tell you?” Martha gestured towards a shady park bench and we sat down, sighing in relief.

“About the time he was an alcoholic and the problems he had trying to fix himself up. A good friend helped him and they were so close that his family accused him of having a gay affair with this man. By the way, stop me if this is all starting to sound familiar, won’t you.”