Learning to Dance (23 page)

She said aloud, ‘He’s ill. He could go one way or the other. I’m not ill, but I could also go one way or the other.’ She heard her words, closed her eyes and saw them written in the sudden darkness. She thought, for just an instant, that she was offering herself a choice. Then she saw there was no choice.

She had no idea how long she stood there trying to accept that truth. At some point she realized it was colder, and turned with some vague notion of fetching a cardigan. Then Matt’s voice came from the patio.

‘Mum – are you coming in now? What shall I do about the oven? And can I hang my wetsuit in the utility room?’

She climbed the steps on to the lawn and stood looking at him. Already life had gone back to normal for him.

She said, ‘Yes, I’m just coming. Don’t know about the oven. And yes to the wetsuit, so long as it’s not still dripping.’

She trudged on to the patio and into the house. She had thought it might feel like shouldering a heavy load, but it didn’t. She locked the back door and went on into the kitchen. There was a wonderful smell coming from the oven and the warmth told her that it had been on for some time. Matt followed her.

‘It’s one of Dad’s curries, isn’t it? How long did it take him to make that?’

‘I don’t know. He wasn’t too good when I went into the garden.’

‘When was that?’

She looked at him wide-eyed. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Mum – you check up on him every five minutes!’ He paused and then blurted, ‘Did you have a row?’

‘Of course not! Well, there was a stumbling block.’

‘He told you to get off his back, and you did!’ Matt was grinning. ‘And it was the right thing to do, Mum! He made one of his curries and it smells good!’

She nodded wryly, surprised that it had taken her so long in the garden to realize that she had no real choice. She put on oven gloves, opened the oven door, blinked at the rush of heat and eased out the cast-iron casserole. She prodded the contents with a knife, then replaced the pot carefully and switched off the oven.

‘It can finish in its own heat,’ she said. ‘I’ll see to the rice in a minute.’

She fetched mugs – washed and put away – and made tea. ‘I didn’t expect you back so soon, actually.’

‘I did tell you. I didn’t think you were listening. You were worried about Dad. As usual.’

‘Yes. Yes, I was. Strangely enough, I don’t think I am now – not in the same way.’

Matt made a face. ‘One curry doth not a menu make!’ He burst out laughing. ‘Hey, listen to the son of the two artists! A quip, no less!’

She registered the ‘two artists’ and that Matt’s Australian good temper had escalated into an English excitement.

She sat opposite him, pushed his mug of tea across the table. ‘What’s happened today – something good?’

‘Artist mother very acute or astute?’

‘Both. Come on. You’re different. You’ve reverted to being eighteen.’

‘Two things. Shall I save them till Dad wakes up?’

‘Where is he?’

‘On the sofa in the living room. That’s how I know he’s asleep.’

‘He’ll be awake by now. Let’s go in.’ She poured more tea and they took it in with them. Jack was awake and had pushed himself up. He looked awful in one way, totally drained. But also peaceful.

‘I can smell it from here,’ he greeted them. ‘Did I set the temperature too high?’

‘It’s great, Dad. Like old times.’ Matt sat on the sofa and held Jack’s mug towards him. ‘Mum’s investigated. She’s going to do the rice in a minute.’

Judith watched Jack as he took his mug of tea and inhaled the steam just as she did. They had grown up together, the two of them. It was worth trying, surely? But it was her turn to say something, and that was going to be difficult.

But it came to her very naturally, and she said, ‘Matt’s got some news to tell us, Jack.’

Matt made a face. ‘Sounds suitably condescending, Mother dear.’ He grinned at her. ‘First things first. Martha has done her first year – NQT it’s called, which means newly qualified teacher. So we thought we might make it official.’

Jack stopped inhaling and said, ‘Not Martha Gifford? Little Martha Gifford who stole your marbles when you were ten years old?’

‘She wanted me to notice her, Dad. And she never – not once – got me mixed up with Toby. And she’s not little any more.’ He looked at his mother with some defiance. ‘She was six at the time, please remember.’

Judith discovered she wanted to laugh. ‘When you went off to Perth with Uncle Len she came to see me. She suggested that I use my maternal influence to put a stop to the whole thing. I’d forgotten all about it. She was fourteen. Hot pants and a drawstring top.’

Matt drew his top lip down. ‘She wears conventional clothes now, of course.’

‘Yes, I suppose she would. What a shame.’

‘She’s allowed to wear trousers at work– more practical, of course – but one of the boys told her she had a nice bum, so she’s worn skirts ever since. It was quite innocent, too, he’s eight years old.’

Judith avoided Jack’s gaze.

‘I think that was jolly decent of her!’

Matt looked at her suspiciously. ‘Mum, please be serious. We’re engaged.’

She was suddenly very serious; she looked at him, loving him so hard she wondered he did not reel back into the sofa. ‘Matt! Darling Matt! How absolutely wonderful! She was such a character – she’ll be just great for you! Is it really going to happen? Is she going to chuck in her job and leave her family – for you?’

‘No.’ He was delighted with her reaction, taking Jack’s mug and putting it on the coffee table with great care before leaning over to take her hand and swing it crazily. ‘That’s the other bit of news. Last time we were over, Tobe and I had a look at a transport firm operating from Filton. Len was interested – he thinks it’s time he came home – wanted our opinion. It’s a small outfit, but plenty of opportunity for expansion. They stand in for the ambulance service and coastguard rescue; even the police use them. They need other machines and other pilots. Toby and Len are coming over and we’re going to get round the table.’ He released her hand and she massaged it. ‘What do you think? Martha and I went and had a look this morning. She was dead impressed.’

Judith really was stunned into silence. Jack said tentatively,
‘It’s a bit much to take in – why haven’t you mentioned it before, for Pete’s sake?’

Matt opened his eyes wide. ‘It did not seem quite … appropriate?’ he suggested. He added soberly, ‘Last time, there was Gran. This time there was you, Dad. We won’t go any further until you get strong again and can come and look round with us.’

Jack said, ‘I don’t know a thing about the transport business. But if Len OKs it that will be enough for us.’ He sat forward with some difficulty. ‘Are things looking up? Martha Gifford. This opportunity for all of you to come back home – is it what you really want, Matt?’

Matt said, ‘Well, of course. I mean I’ve always known about Martha. Haven’t seen much of her in these last few years, of course, but she’s been kind of built into my life. And she was so young – just as well Len took us off your hands, Dad. We needed space and physical work. Anyway, Len made it plain to us right from the start that he would be coming back one day.’

Jack said, ‘Jude?’

She swallowed. ‘It’s wonderful. Perhaps … it will be possible.’

Matt was surprised. ‘What’s not possible, Mum? Len will sell the Australian business, no problem. And part of the deal is that we come with the new helicopters. We’ve had our licences for years now – you know that.’

Judith nodded. ‘And Dad has a new project, too. It could be possible. It could actually work.’

‘Mum, you sound distinctly odd. I’ll go and see to the rice and shout when it’s ready. You’re probably faint from lack of food.’ He almost leapt up, then paused at the door; Judith could almost feel the energy fizzing from him. ‘You know, if
we’d been here Dad wouldn’t have been ill. And even if he had, we could have looked after him – we plan to live here, you know. It’s twenty minutes along the motorway to Filton. And Martha likes the local schools – actually she hates driving into Bristol every day. We’ve been looking at houses. There’s an old cottage on the Somerset Levels – we could do it up. Your turn to leave home next, Mum!’ He laughed. ‘If you feel the need to do a runner – you could walk that far.’

She picked up a cushion and flung it in his direction. She was very close to tears. All this time, when she had thought herself isolated, there had been plans being made for the future that involved her. And Jack.

Jack was actually smiling. And waiting for her to say something.

She leaned forward and whispered, ‘Martha Gifford!’

He nodded. ‘She went a bit wild? I remember her coming to tea, bringing flowers for Mum.’

‘Angling for news of Matt? She thought Australia was all sex and sea.’

‘She looked through the latest snaps – they were of the boys working.’

‘Was it after that she buckled down and began her training?’

‘Four years ago. Yes. Probably.’

‘We didn’t take her seriously.’

Jack drew down his mouth. ‘We should have done. After the theft of the marbles, we should have known she was very serious!’

And, incredibly, they both laughed.

For the rest of the evening she thought it was going to be all right. Even easy. Matt did most of the talking, but both she and Jack had no difficulty in chipping in now and then,
and when they did Matt became even more vocal and told them jokes from the outback that made them laugh again.

He said, ‘Len’s got quite a talent for fitting in – everyone gets on with him. That doesn’t always apply to Poms setting up a business over there. He’s very straight – tells it how it is. Tobe and I got roaring drunk our first night out in Perth. He made us work twice as hard the next day, stripping down one of the engines in a hangar. We were in a bad way. He said hard work was the best detox there was.’ He grinned. ‘We didn’t make it a regular thing – I can see that’s what you want to know!’

‘I never thought it was going to be a proper apprenticeship.’ Judith heard her own words, and realized it was the first time she had voiced the bewilderment she had felt at the time. ‘And then it went on and on. Ten years, Matt. You and Toby were eighteen when you went out there.’

‘Didn’t Dad tell you?’

‘Tell me what?’ She looked at Jack.

He said, ‘Thank God there was no need. Len always believed in hard work. He got me my first job on our local paper when I was messing around after art college. He stood in when Mum and Dad were killed.’

She turned to Matt. ‘What didn’t Dad tell me? And why?’

He said, ‘Loyalty? I don’t know. But Toby and I went through a wild time, told Dad we’d had enough of studying and had no intention of going in for higher education. We tried some cocaine and thought it was OK. The dealer took an interest in us – nobody could tell us apart then. He told us we could make money from our twinship – that’s what he called it at first, afterwards we were not allowed to use the word.’ He turned down his mouth. ‘We provided an alibi for him. One of us had to be by his side when he was doing
a drug deal – on show, definitely on show. And the other had to be just as obvious, but somewhere else. Witnesses were confused and unreliable, and it would wreck any case the police might be building against him.’ He shrugged. ‘It was a joke to us. We were so stupid it was unbelievable. We weren’t allowed to use the word “twins”. We were policies. Insurance policies.’

‘Nigel Thorpe said something to me one night – warned me, I suppose. He still lives down the road – d’you remember, Jude? He was the local bobby for ages. I think he’s retired and works for a security firm now.’ Jack sighed. ‘And Len happened to be over here for a couple of weeks. He offered to take the boys back with him, and they jumped at it.’

‘We’d got in over our heads, Mum.’ Matt was making coffee after the meal. He brought it to the table and stood there, remembering. ‘We thought we could make a bit of money and set up … something. We thought we were using him. When he let us know that he was using us, and that with that first job we were up to our necks and couldn’t back out, we were really scared.’

She was stunned. Again. Matt said, ‘It was a long time ago, Mum. Don’t look like that.’

Jack tried to take her hand. ‘It happened so quickly, Jude, and when I got back from settling them in, Mum was—’

‘I know.’ She withdrew her hand and poured the coffee. ‘Take no notice. It’s as if – looking back – I have gone through life wearing a blindfold.’ She glanced up. ‘Is there anything else? Has Toby got someone like Martha Gifford? Is Len proposing to take on other protégés whose parents are unable to cope?’

‘You coped so well, Mum!’ Matt frowned. ‘And of course Toby has got a girlfriend. You’ve seen pictures of her.’

She sighed and shook her head helplessly. If she had known why the boys were leaving home, she would not have been able to cope with Eunice, probably.

She drank her coffee, and Matt said he’d go to bed because he wanted to swim in the tide early the next morning.

And then it was time to lock up and follow Jack upstairs. And it was then she thought of Naomi and suddenly discovered that she could no longer sleep with Jack. It was quite simple. She had got into bed with him back in Taunton, and ever since then had slept by his side so that she was there ‘in case’. Now he did indeed seem better. And he had told her about Naomi.

She said she would have to sleep in her mother’s room; no explanations, but of course he knew why, and almost winced. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said lamely, picking her pillows up from the bed. ‘I can’t do it. I don’t think I’m going to sleep very well, and I need to be able to get up and move around the house.’

He nodded. ‘I … understand. It’s just … it’s been so good tonight. I thought we might talk about that … being a family again. And anyway, I’ll miss you.’

She went into her mother’s room, made up the bed, and began to undress. It was then that she found the flimsy envelope that had arrived that morning, still in the pocket of her jeans.

She sat up in bed and ripped it open and fished out a single sheet of notepaper. It was from Sybil, her address in Kingston upon Thames at the top, her signature at the bottom, and in between, starkly, ‘Guess what? He says it’s too soon, and we must wait until Moss is out of my system. As if!’