The Good Neighbour (21 page)

‘Sit tight, Davey,’ his mum said. She looked at a magazine on her lap. It was open at a page which said, ‘Get ready for bikini season!’ Her leg was jiggling up and down underneath it, and she rubbed her arm as though she was cold. The nurse came back and said, ‘Sorry about that. Typical communication breakdown! The sample is there, so we can tick that one off.’

‘Great,’ Davey’s mum said. ‘I’m a nurse, though not working at the moment, so I know how hectic the handover gets sometimes.’

‘So true. Where were you last nursing? Do you miss it?’

‘I miss it like anything. I love it so much. Love everything about it.’

‘Ha, you’ve forgotten some of the bad bits. I still don’t really like phlebotomy, I wouldn’t mind dropping that …’

They started talking, and Davey repeated ‘phlebotomy’ to himself. It had the word ‘bottom’ in it, and he wanted to remember it so he could make Lola laugh.

There were more doctors, and his mum had to fill in questionnaires, and he had another KitKat, and then they left. His mum sang along to the radio on the way home. In between songs she kept saying ‘Finally! We can get a diagnosis again, Davey, stop all the mucking about.’

They collected Lola from nursery. When they were getting out of the car at home, they saw Minette and Abe coming down the street with Tilly. Davey’s mum was all chatty to them but Davey could see that Minette wanted to go. She gave him a big smile. Davey thought about Abe playing rummy with him and Lola, about Minette reading him a story. He wondered what it would be like to be Tilly and live in that house with them.

Lola was excited to go on the computer. Davey sat with her while she played Super Mario. It had been a long time since he’d heard anyone say the name ‘Adam’ out loud. Lola used to slip up and call him by it all the time. Then for a while she called him ‘he’. But now she called him Davey without thinking. He whispered, ‘Lola, do you remember my name?’

Her eyes staring straight ahead at the screen, she said, ‘Davey.’

‘No, I mean the name I had before.’

‘I don’t know.’

It was all going to be down to him.

MINETTE FELL ASLEEP
almost immediately. There was so much going round in her head, she just shut down like an over-taxed computer. But now the early morning June sun poured into the room, waking her and flooding her with the worries of the previous day. They came at her one after the other: Davey walking out of the bathroom, that fraught encounter with Cath, four days’ silence from Liam. Minette rolled onto her back, stared at the blue blur of lampshade, and let out an involuntary groan.

Abe whispered, ‘What’s wrong, Dougie?’

‘Oh! I didn’t know you were awake.’

‘You’ve been restless all night.’

‘God, have I? Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you.’

‘I know that. Come here.’

Minette turned on her side to face him and he put his arms round her. He was warm, the feel of his body familiar and comforting.

‘You’ve been in a funny mood lately. Why don’t you talk to me? Maybe I can help.’

Minette felt a lump in her throat. She knew she’d let herself become distant from him. She had sort of fallen in love with someone else, and now it seemed that the someone else was backing away. Where did that leave her and Abe?

‘It’s a long story.’

‘I’m in no hurry.’

So she told him about seeing Davey walking, and the strange thing he said, and Cath’s defensiveness about it.

‘Jesus, Dougie, this is massive. Was it just a few steps that you saw?’

‘I don’t honestly know. Sort of. He made it from his bed to the bathroom and back. I supposed it depends on your definition of a few. He was unsteady, that’s certain.’

‘Anyone would be unsteady if they spent all day sitting down.’

‘I know. But also, I feel awful for Cath, because you were right, they’ve changed their names because the husband was violent.’

‘Those poor kids. Being in a violent relationship can make people do weird things. But why would she pretend Davey can’t walk? I’m struggling to come up with an explanation.’

‘And you’ve seen a lot of strange people.’

‘Well, look. We have to do something.’

Minette liked that ‘we’. She pressed herself closer to Abe, and found that he had a hard-on. She stroked him, gently, expecting him to push her hand away, as he had so often during the last year. But instead he pulled her closer towards him and kissed her, properly, on the mouth, and because it had been so long it felt unfamiliar and exciting, almost a stranger’s kiss. In a few minutes they were making love, and though she couldn’t say in truth that it was as good as with Liam, nowhere near, it was still good. And afterwards was better, because there was no guilt, no racing heart, no fear of discovery. For a few minutes, as they lay in each other’s arms, the world seemed the right way up again.

‘That was nice to come back to, after a bit of a gap,’ Abe said, and Minette knew that was the most she would get out of him about the drought.

‘I guess we felt awkward with those horrible people next door listening to our every move,’ she offered, and he eagerly agreed.

They lay cuddled together until Tilly began her morning yodelling. Minette usually had a lie-in on Saturdays, but this morning she wanted to get moving. She made tea for herself and Abe, put on her dressing gown and took her cup outside, to the bench. She looked up at Cath’s house, wondering what the hell was going on in there, and a movement caught her eye. There was someone at the round window, the one that overlooked them. Minette shaded her eyes because the sun was making her squint, and also to show the person at the window that she was watching them. Was it Cath? She couldn’t tell. Then the dark figure put their hand flat on the glass, as if saying hello, and she saw it was Davey.

All this time, it had been Davey, watching her from that window. And all this time, he had been trying to tell her something. She knew how high the window was; she’d looked out of it herself when she’d been in Cath’s house. It was too high for him to see out of, if he was sitting down.

Minette, look. I can stand.

Minette waved, and the hand against the glass moved, a tiny bit. You could just about call it a wave. Then he disappeared. She watched for a while longer but he didn’t return.

Abe came out and set Tilly gently down on the little patch of grass. He sat close to Minette, and they watched Tilly examine and dissect a series of daisies as though they held the secrets of the universe.

‘Here’s what I think we should do,’ Abe said. ‘Phone Cath’s ex again.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. We’re not going to get an unbiased account from anyone. Cath’s too embedded in whatever this thing is, the children are too little. We might as well find out the husband’s story.’

‘What would I say to him?’

‘Be honest. Tell him straight, say you’ve heard that he hit Cath, and you want to get his take on it.’

‘What if he is a wife-beater, though?’

‘Well, what can he do to you over the phone?’

Minette hadn’t told Abe about Gina and Cath’s paranoia about being traced. She decided to keep that to herself, for fear of worrying him.

‘Plus, even wife-beaters are also people. Bad people, maybe, but they are sometimes worth listening to.’

‘Get you, Mr Citizens Advice.’

‘Should have gone into social work, shouldn’t I?’

‘You’d have been brilliant.’

He slid an arm round her and pulled her in for a kiss. She closed her eyes, the sunlight flickering under her eyelashes. Having sex had made her feel tender towards him, for the first time in forever. Maybe he felt the same.

They broke apart when Tilly called out, ‘Dud-ud,’ her new word, which Abe was thrilled by every time. He admired the dismembered daisy in Tilly’s palm. ‘Well done, darling,’ he said. ‘Can you do the bindweed now?’

Minette said, ‘I saw Davey at that window a few minutes ago.’

Abe turned to look. ‘Interesting … you sure it was him? OK, so, playing devil’s advocate, Cath could have carried him upstairs, and he could have been leaning against something. Maybe his condition’s not so bad yet, perhaps he can stand if there’s something to support him?’

‘Oh god, it’s all so complicated.’

‘Go phone the wife-beater. Don’t stay on too long.’

‘Why?’

‘I know it sounds a bit
In the Line of Fire
, but I think the longer you’re on the phone, the easier it might be for him to trace you.’

‘Jesus, Abe.’

‘Not that he’ll be trying to, of course. Don’t worry. We need to hear from him.’ He stretched his legs out in front of him. ‘Good idea of mine, to put the bench here.’ It was his way of finally apologising about the stupid row they’d had over it.

Minette sat on her bed and turned off ‘show caller ID’ on her phone, which she now knew how to do, though it was pointless as Andy already had her number.

He picked up on the first ring, with, did she imagine it, a slightly desperate ‘Hello?’

Minette’s mouth was dry. ‘Um, hi Andy, it’s Minette, we spoke the other day.’

‘Thank you, thank you so much for phoning back. I’m so sorry about my idiotic answerphone messages.’

‘That’s OK. I’ve been thinking a lot since we spoke, and there are some things I want to ask you, is that all right?’

‘Yes, absolutely.’

Minette relaxed a little. If he was a wife-beater, he was a very polite one.

‘So, uh.’ She couldn’t leap straight in. Thank god for small talk. ‘Are you still in Dubrovnik?’

‘I’m about 2,000 kilometres further east. You heard of Vileyka?’

It sounded nice and far away. ‘No, but I’m terrible at geography.’

‘It’s, well I suppose it’s a town, I haven’t seen much of it. It’s in Belarus.’

‘God, that sounds pretty remote.’

‘It is. Terrific mobile signal though. Talking of which, isn’t this call going to cost you a fortune?’

‘I’ve got this bolt-on deal thing for international calls. My mother lives in France.’ Too much information, Minette! ‘How much longer are you away?’

‘Another week or so. I take longer jobs now there’s no one to come home to.’ He coughed. ‘Zig-zagging about as far as Georgia, eight drop-off points on the way back.’

‘So, you really are a lorry driver, then?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Well.’ Minette took a breath. ‘Things seem to be rather unclear here, and I’m trying to work out what’s true and what’s not. I’m going to jump right in, so forgive me if this seems a bit personal. Understatement, sorry. Ruby said,’ Minette congratulated herself for remembering to say the right name, ‘that you had, er, hit her and that’s why she left.’

There was a silence. She could hear him breathing. Oh god, suppose it wasn’t true. Jesus! ‘Hello? Andy?’

‘I’m still here. That’s very hard for me to answer.’

‘Well, I don’t want to sound like a lawyer, but either you did, or you didn’t.’

He let out a long breath. ‘Yes. I did hit her. Once.’

‘Once is enough, I guess.’ So it was true. Minette felt terrible she’d doubted Cath.

‘The right question here, I think, is why did I hit her?’

‘Excuse me, but that’s not the right question.’ Minette was clear on this point. He’d hit his wife, he was not to be trusted, there was nothing to be gained from continuing the conversation. She was about to start wrapping up the call when he said, ‘I think there is, maybe, one excuse.’

Minette had always prided herself on being a feminist. So, she might be a stay-at-home mother now, cooking pastry from scratch and freezing homemade purees. But that was her choice. And as a feminist, there were unwritten rules she held to be self-evident. No means no; women can wear whatever they like; a woman doing the same job as a man should get the same pay; and there’s never a justification for hitting a woman.

‘There’s never, ever, any excuse.’

She was already starting to take the phone away from her ear when he said, ‘Not even to protect my child?’

‘I’m sorry?’ Minette sat up straight.

‘I admit it, I lost my temper, there were a dozen other ways I could have handled it, but I just got that red mist. My tiny girl, my Ezzie.’

Abe put his head round the door. Minette gestured him in, and discreetly slid the phone onto speaker.

‘What happened to Esmie?’ Minette said.

‘She has a lot of allergies,’ Andy said. ‘For instance, she can’t drink milk.’

‘I know.’

‘What a palaver that was, when she was tiny, god bless her. Soya milk, rice milk, all disgusting, poor little kid. Anyway, a few months ago I’m in some crummy hotel near Leipzig, and I Skype with Ruby after her night shift, and she’s in that weird a mood I feel worried. She says something’s happened at work, something to do with a kid she was fond of, Darren. He had leukaemia, I think. She keeps saying, I told them it was serious, no one believed me. She’s not herself, she’s all worked up, can’t sit still, keeps walking away, forgetting that we’re on Skype. The kids were with my parents, thank god. I’d only seen her like this once before, years ago back in Birmingham, when a kid called Libby died and she was in a total state.’

Minette said, ‘I thought you were telling me about Esmie.’

‘Yes, sorry. I’m a rambler, Ruby always says I come at a story from three miles away. I’m trying to explain. So Ruby’s not expecting me back for a couple of days but I feel that worried about her I drive fourteen hours straight, I just want to get home. So it’s late, ten, I think, I’m knackered, and when I come in there’s Esmie, sitting in the kitchen with a hot drink. All pleased to see me. “I couldn’t sleep, she says, so Mummy made me hot chocolate. Try it, it’s yummy.” “It’s all right sweetheart,” I say, “I don’t like soya milk, you know that.” “Oh, she says, there wasn’t any soya so Mummy made it with proper milk.” So I try it, and it does taste like proper milk, and I go to the fridge, show her the milk carton, she says, “Yes, that’s the one.” So I’m trying not to panic, don’t want to upset her, I calmly get the epi-pen. Then Ruby comes in wearing a towel, she’s been having a bath, shocked to see me home, says, “What do you need the epi-pen for?” I say, “Has that hot chocolate got proper milk in?” She starts denying it, but there’s no soya milk in the house and no empty carton in the bin, so she can’t explain what happened.’