Losing You (7 page)

As if her addiction wasn’t causing them enough already.

Just thank God the boys didn’t know about the men she’d started taking home at night; or the way she often didn’t make it to the bathroom. He knew it was common for drunks to become incontinent, but what he’d never imagined was it happening to the beautiful young girl he’d married. However, that girl was long gone now; in her place was a stranger, a victim drowning in her own dependence. He’d tried so many times and in so many ways to rescue her, but nothing he did or said ever seemed to make a difference. In the end, it was the cleaning up after her that had finally finished it for him; he never intended to go there again.

‘Hey Mrs B,’ Oliver said, as his friend’s mother opened the front door of the Brents’ large Edwardian semi in Redland. ‘Is Alfie back yet?’

‘In his room,’ Janet Brent answered. ‘Go on up.’

‘Thanks. Oh, is my car still OK on your drive? Do you need me to move it?’

‘My love, you’re welcome to leave it there all day if you can persuade my son to tidy up his room.’

With a grin, Oliver said, ‘Best I go and move it now then?’

Laughing, she closed the door and went back along the hall to the kitchen as Oliver took the wide staircase two at a time, to the second floor. ‘Hey,’ he said, crashing into Alfie’s bedroom and startling his friend so badly that Alfie almost fell off the bed.

‘Jesus, man,’ Alfie grumbled, picking up the girlie mag he’d leapt to shove out of sight. ‘I thought you were my old lady.’

‘Like she doesn’t know you read that stuff. What time did you get home?’

‘About half an hour ago. Where did you rush off to?’

‘Oh, I just had something to deal with. Can I use your computer?’

‘Sure, help yourself. Did you get laid last night?’

‘Did you?’

Alfie threw out his hands. ‘Look at me man, what do you think?’

Oliver laughed. Since Alfie was a dead ringer for the most recent
X Factor
winner whose name Oliver had already forgotten, mainly because he never watched the show, Alfie had been getting more than his fair share of action. Not that Oliver was ever short of girls himself, but he never allowed himself to get involved – he didn’t need the hassle, especially not while all this was going on with his mother.

‘You might want to take a look at Jerome’s Facebook page,’ Alfie told him, as he settled down at the computer. ‘Actually, he could be on his way over here.’

In spite of having been to separate universities these past three years – Leeds in Oliver’s case, Nottingham in Alfie’s and Manchester in Jerome’s – the friendship between the three had remained strong, and now they were all living at home again while they looked for jobs, they’d taken up almost as though they’d never been apart.

‘Hey, this is amazing,’ Oliver declared as he read Jerome’s wall. ‘He’s only been shortlisted for the job in Durban.’

Yawning, Alfie said, ‘Tell me something I don’t already know.’

‘Lucky bastard,’ Oliver muttered as he posted a message asking Jerome if he knew where Durban was. ‘Has he ever been to South Africa?’ he asked Alfie.

‘Not as far as I know. His first interview was in London. Got to widen my own search, ’cos I have to get out of this place. Not Bristol, or yeah, Bristol, but it’s more being back here, at home, that’s doing my head in.’

‘Tell me about it,’ Oliver muttered, clicking on to his own page. No big surprise to find that he’d been poked by a couple of girls he’d known at uni, they were regularly in touch, and Cara Jaymes, who was in the sixth form of his old school, Clifton College, had posted some photos of last night’s party. A mate, now back living in Reading with his parents, had sent him a link to a job he thought Oliver might be interested in as an analyst for a marketing company based in Blackheath. When Oliver clicked on to find more details he could only wonder what kind of degree his mate thought he’d taken, because for this position he needed either maths or computer science, or better still physics, neither of which, as a media studies grad, he’d come even close to.

Still, it was good of the guy to think of him, so he got back to him saying thanks and they should get together soon, and was just about to click on to his brother’s page when he noticed that Thea Cox, a girl he quite liked and who, so all her mates said, had a mega crush on him, had posted on his wall last night.

Didn’t realise you had a famous dad
.

Going off her in an instant, he reached for his mobile as it started to ring. Seeing who it was, he clicked on saying, ‘Hey, is that my famous dad?’

‘Very funny,’ Russ retorted. ‘Did you get my message?’

‘Yeah, and sorry, I should have texted last night.’

‘Don’t forget next time. Where are you now?’

‘At Alfie’s. Where are you?’

‘On my way home. I’ve just been to see your mother.’

‘I know, I was there, but I thought it was best to let the two of you get on with it.’

‘So you know what’s happened?’

‘I do. Is it going to be OK? Does Angie want to go to the police?’

‘Thankfully, no. I’ll pay for the repairs and we’ll just have to hope it doesn’t happen again.’

Oliver’s expression became strained as he swivelled the chair away from his friend. ‘We have to do something about her, Dad. We can’t let her just go on you know ...’

‘I wish I knew what to tell you, son, but we’ve been to the meetings together, so you know as well as I do that until she’s ready to help herself there’s not much we can do.’

‘So why don’t you let her come home for a while? At least then we’d know where she is and what she’s doing.’ Did his dad know about the blokes his mum was picking up in bars and taking back to her flat at night? If not, Oliver didn’t want to be the one to tell him.

With a sigh, Russ said, ‘It’s true, we would, but letting her come back to Clyde Court isn’t the answer. She needs professional help, at a clinic where people know how to handle her sort of problems. Much as I’d like to, I’m afraid I can’t force her to do that.’

‘But you can let her come back.’

Sighing again, Russ said, ‘Look, I realise this is your mother we’re talking about, but she’s also my wife. The way I deal with what’s happening between us has to be between me and her.’

‘So what you’re actually saying is that you don’t really care what happens to her?’

‘No, Oliver, that isn’t what I’m saying at all, and you know it. Now let’s drop this till you get home, shall we? Can I expect to see you today?’

‘I don’t know. What’s going on?’

‘I’ll probably be in the office until about four. Angie and Graham are already there finalising a pitch we’re making in London tomorrow.’

‘So you work Sundays now, too?’

‘That’s what happens when you work for yourself, I thought you’d at least learned that by now.’

Stung, Oliver said, ‘So really there’s not a lot of point me coming home, if no one’s going to be there.’

‘I shall be fifty yards away, in the stable block, and with any luck I’ll be through around four. If you can make it, I have some news for you.’

Oliver was immediately wary. ‘What sort of news?’

‘It looks as though we’re going to get the commission for another series of
Living Houses
. If we do, Paul Granger’s keen to have you on board again.’

Oliver’s scowl didn’t lift. ‘But he’ll pay me this time, right?’

‘Oliver, in your position you should be thankful to be getting some experience ...’

‘I’m twenty-one, I have a 2/1 in Media Studies, I need to earn a living and my father is telling me to work for free. Way to go, Dad.’

‘If you don’t want the job there are plenty out there who do ...’

‘Not for nothing, they don’t.’

‘I haven’t said you won’t be paid, I’m just saying that it hasn’t been discussed and you shouldn’t make it a condition. Now, this conversation has to be over. Try to be home by five.’

After ringing off Oliver turned to Alfie.

‘So?’ Alfie said.

‘So?’

‘What’s the deal?’

‘You mean with my dad? Don’t let’s even go there.’

Alfie grinned. ‘Seems Thea’s impressed with him, even if you aren’t. I went on your Facebook page.’

Groaning as he rolled his eyes, Oliver said, ‘What the hell’s she on about, famous? He gave up all the reporting and news-reading crap over ten years ago.’

‘I’ll lay money it’s her mother who’s getting the hots. You know what women are like about celebs, and even if he’s not one now, what counts is that he was once.’

Oliver laughed. ‘He’d go mental if he heard you call him a celeb. He hates all that stuff.’

Alfie shrugged. ‘If it’s going to work for you ... What the hell?’ he exclaimed as Jerome suddenly burst into the room. ‘Didn’t any of you guys ever hear about knocking?’

‘Knock, knock,’ Jerome cried breathlessly. ‘Oliver, man,
let me at the computer. We can’t miss this. What’s the time?’

Alfie glanced at the clock. ‘Eleven thirty-one, precise enough for you?’

‘Shit, it’s already started. Come on, Oliver, let me in.’

‘What’s happening?’ Oliver grumbled, vacating the chair.

‘Lisa Amos is filming someone having a Brazilian at half eleven and if anyone can guess who it is, we get to go with her at Lisa’s twenty-first the Saturday after next.’

Oliver and Alfie looked at one another. ‘What the hell’s he talking about?’ Alfie wanted to know.

‘God knows,’ Oliver answered.

‘Here it is!’ Jerome shouted, sitting back as a slightly blurry image came up on the screen.

Oliver and Alfie came to peer over his shoulder. ‘What’s a Brazilian?’ Alfie murmured.

‘It’s a girl thing, to do with waxing,’ Jerome explained.

‘Exactly what are we looking at?’ Oliver demanded.

Jerome didn’t seem entirely sure, until the webcam pulled back and the shot gained focus.

‘Oh my God,’ Alfie murmured, his eyes starting to bulge. ‘Is that what I think it is?’

Jerome was grinning and nodding. ‘Pussy,’ he declared, with great satisfaction. ‘Any idea who it belongs to?’

Alfie and Oliver were mute.

‘Come on you guys, you’ve got to fill me in if you know, because it’s the only way ... Shit, what are? Someone’s only covering it up.’

The three of them watched, mesmerised, as two delicate hands patted a long white strip over one half of the anonymous girl’s genitals.

‘Are you ready?’ a female voice asked off camera.

‘Ready,’ Jerome whispered.

‘She’s not talking to you, you idiot,’ Alfie told him. ‘Oh my God, what the?’ Instinctively they all three clasped their hands to their groins. ‘Tell me that didn’t just happen,’ Alfie muttered.

‘I think it did,’ Oliver responded. ‘Look, no hair on one side.’

‘Seriously mental,’ Jerome added. ‘Shit man, I have so
got to find out who she is. It’s my only chance of getting some action.’ He looked at Oliver. ‘Do you recognise her?’

Oliver was incredulous. ‘Yeah, like this is how I always identify women.’

‘I’m guessing it’s a friend of Lisa’s,’ Alfie said helpfully. ‘I mean, if she’s going to the party.’

‘She’s a babe,’ Jerome declared. ‘You can tell, can’t you, you don’t even have to see her face.’

Alfie and Oliver exploded with laughter. ‘Sure, she’s a babe,’ Oliver agreed, ‘and because we’re such great mates of yours, we’re going to put ourselves on a mission to find out exactly who she is, and when we do, Jerome, my friend, she’ll be all yours.’

Chapter Four

‘HEY, MUM, IT’S
me,’ Lauren cried into the phone. ‘Did you remember to pick up my car?’

Juggling her mobile as she unloaded her shopping trolley on to the conveyor belt, Emma said, ‘I’ve just been and the problem’s fixed, so it’ll be waiting when you get back from London. Is everything OK with you?’

‘Yeah, cool. Got a ton of revising to do. Where are you?’

‘At the supermarket, about to check out, so I ought to go.’

‘OK. Did you speak to Granny Berry today? She rang me trying to get hold of you.’

‘Yes, we had a long chat earlier. She wanted to know if I’m going to be in town at all before your performance exam, because she’s got some paintings going into an exhibition. I told her I wouldn’t miss it.’

‘Too right we won’t. Is Alfonso coming over from Italy?’

‘I believe so. Right, it’s me next so I have to go. I’ll call you later.’ As she rang off she heard the sounds of a commotion further along the store and looked up to find out what it was.

The young girl at the till in front of her was on her feet. ‘That is so amazing, isn’t it?’ she declared, beaming all over her face.

‘What is it?’ Emma said, trying to work out what was happening.

‘It’s one of them golden angels,’ the girl explained. ‘She’s just paid that old lady’s bill. Oh God, look at the old lady’s face. She’s so thrilled she’s crying.’

Recognising Mrs Dempster who lived on the same street as her, Emma found herself clapping and laughing
along with everyone else. ‘So where’s the angel?’ she wondered.

‘No idea,’ the checkout girl replied. ‘Been and gone, I expect. Apparently they never hang around. She’s such a dear old soul, Mrs D. She’s my friend’s gran. It couldn’t have happened to a nicer person.’

Though she’d only spoken to Mrs Dempster on one occasion, when they’d spent a few minutes standing in the freezing cold outside Emma’s house wondering when the new gates were going to be fitted, Emma had no problem believing that the old lady was well liked simply from the kindliness of her smile, and the gentleness of her rheumy grey eyes. ‘I wonder what made them choose her?’ she said.

The girl shrugged as she sat back down and continued to scan the groceries through. ‘No one has a clue. We don’t even know they’re coming until they’re here. They just turn up, pick someone at random, pay the bill, in cash, and go.’

‘So they’ve been to this store before?’

‘Only once, about a month ago. They chose some really grumpy old sod that time. He was at the checkout next to mine, and you should have heard him carrying on. He kept telling the woman, angel, whatever, to bugger off and mind her own business, he even tried to hit her with his stick. Then he finally got what was going on and you should have seen him. Honest to God, I nearly cried myself, it was so lovely seeing all the misery melting off his scabby old face. He turned out to have a bit of a lovely smile, and he even had teeth, which none of us expected. I reckon it was the first time anyone had done something nice for him in so long he’d forgotten it ever happened.’