The Mistake I Made (26 page)

‘Look,’ he said, ‘do you want to meet up? Because I’d like to tell you about him. Fuck,’ he said emphatically, ‘I’d
really
like to talk about him. About everything. I don’t get to do that any more. And I know it’s probably my own doing, but I feel like I need to sometimes … I can’t talk to Nadine. She cries too much.’

‘Sure,’ I said softly. ‘I’d like that, Henry.’

We got together two days later. I had no babysitter, Winston was in Newquay – his mother pretended not to know where he was, until I told her I didn’t want any money out of him. Then she admitted he’d taken off with the blonde girl with the dirty, matted hair (dreads) who’d been working at the campsite for the summer. ‘He’s back Friday,’ she assured me. Anyway, it wasn’t exactly a date that I’d scheduled with Henry, so he called at the house, and we walked together to the swings with George and his friend Ollie, who had stayed over for tea.

The boys kicked a football around and Henry and I sat on one of the picnic benches. I’d asked Henry if it was okay to bring George along, sensitive to the fact that he was here to talk about his own son, and he’d frowned, answering with, ‘Well, what else are you going to do with him?’

We watched the boys for a while. George was no natural and had little control of the ball. A woman in her forties kept sending him black looks each time it went anywhere near her toddler. I pretended not to be aware and turned my attention to Henry.

‘Now that I’m here I don’t know where to start,’ he said.

I told him not to talk at all if he didn’t feel like it. I was happy to have someone to sit with. I was happy to be here with him. Usually, I came alone.

‘He’s a good kid,’ Henry said, nodding towards George, who was about to take a corner.

‘Yeah … did Elliot play?’

‘I tried to get him into it, but he had no interest.’

‘Same as George,’ I said.

‘His granddad was devastated,’ Henry said, smiling at the memory.

‘And George’s,’ I said. ‘My dad’s a big Bolton Wanderers fan, and his father before him. He was kind of gutted George couldn’t care less. He’s over it now, I think.’

‘Yeah, my dad was the same, he—’

Somehow, when taking the corner, George had managed to kick the ball
behind
him.

‘Excuse me!’ came the shrill voice of the nearby mother. She set off, striding towards us, about to give us a piece of her mind. ‘I wonder if you would mind telling
those
boys that I’d appreciate it if they kept that ball under—’

‘Lads,’ I yelled over to George and Ollie, ‘play at the other end of the pitch.’ They obliged without complaint, and I ignored the woman, turning back to Henry. ‘You were saying?’

‘Nicely done.’

‘I’m well practised. There are a lot of parents who get outraged rather easily around here. They don’t seem to think that their offspring will eventually grow up into nine-year-olds as well.’

‘I remember the type,’ said Henry, ‘the full-on parents who behave as though the parks were built especially for them. They used to drive me nuts, going on all the equipment, talking nonstop to their kid, encouraging – Christ,
clapping
– the whole
Aren’t I a fantastic parent?
bullshit.’

I nodded in agreement. ‘They make you feel crap for reading a newspaper when you should be engaging with your kid.’

‘Should you be engaging with your kid at every moment, do you think?’ he asked.

‘No, do you?’

‘It’s definitely weird,’ he said. ‘Anyway, what were we talking about? Football?’

‘Your dad,’ I said.

‘Oh, yeah,’ he said, and his expression turned once more reflective.

‘How has he coped with the loss of a grandchild?’

‘Better than Helena’s parents,’ he said.

‘Helena is your wife?’

He nodded. ‘Was.’

‘Do you keep in touch with them? Helena’s parents?’

‘I call every couple of weeks, just to check in. Helena doesn’t know. She’s pretty heavily medicated, so they look after her. I tried to, but she didn’t want me around in the end.’

‘She blames you?’

‘She blames herself. She wasn’t at fault, but it made no difference. She blames herself and, ultimately, I’m not exactly sure what happened to us. I couldn’t seem to help her, and she didn’t want me near her, so her parents asked me to move away. Reluctantly, though – it was a last resort. I tell people I couldn’t bear to be around anyone that knew about the accident, but it wasn’t that. My wife couldn’t bear to have me around any longer. I tried to do what was best for her.’

I nodded.

There wasn’t really anything I could say. The worst thing in the world had happened. His marriage had fallen apart as a result. There were no words of consolation.

‘Thank you for asking about Elliot,’ he said softly.

‘We all need to talk about our kids.’

‘Most people, even friends, assume I’d hate to talk. That it’s the last thing I’d want.’

I hesitated, not exactly sure how to answer. ‘I’m no expert,’ I said, ‘but the people I know who’ve lost a child do want to talk. Rather than causing pain, it seems to bring some comfort.’

He clasped his hands together and nodded.

I said, ‘You should see your face, by the way, when you talk about him. You become a different person. Your whole face shines.’

‘It does?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘It does.’

The boys were edging closer to this side of the pitch. I glanced at the woman with the toddler, who was standing, hands on hips, waiting for me to reprimand them, so I didn’t.

‘I had the feeling I said the wrong thing the other evening,’ said Henry. ‘I thought I’d annoyed you and, though I really wanted to call, I didn’t think you’d want to hear from me again.’

‘You didn’t annoy me.’

‘No?’ He looked dubious.

‘The last few weeks haven’t exactly been plain sailing. And I suppose it was just the fall-out from that.’

‘Anything I can help with?’ he asked.

‘Thanks, but it’s over.’

He went to say something further and then changed his mind, sensing, perhaps, that whatever had been troubling me I wasn’t willing to share.

‘I think that’s why I was drawn to you,’ he said, after a moment, reaching across and taking my hand. ‘You know, when we first met?’

‘During the insurance assessment?’ I asked, surprised.

He went rueful. ‘I like to play my cards close,’ he said. ‘But I knew almost straight away that you wouldn’t try to fix me. You had your own shit going on, so you weren’t going to try and make everything better. Or ask stupid fucking questions about how
I feel
… I was attracted to that.’

I smiled at him. ‘How do you feel, Henry?’

‘Not so bad, actually.’

We dropped Ollie back at his mother’s and walked home, George carrying the football rather than attempting to dribble it along the pavement. Vince had left a bottle of the Portuguese white in the fridge on Saturday, so I opened it, pouring out two glasses, whilst Henry kicked the ball around in the back garden with George.

I watched from the open window.

Henry had an easy way with him. He wasn’t out to impress, nor did he try to get George to like him. He was casual. After a minute or so Henry picked up the ball and said to George, ‘You want to do something else?’ and George nodded. Henry told him he didn’t really like football either and I saw George smile coyly in response.

Then the two of them sat on the edge of the patio, shoulder to shoulder, and for a second I got a glimpse of what life could be like.

A glimpse of a future.

30

THE TEXT READ
: ‘Are you free?’

I replied: ‘For?’

Scott wrote: ‘The usual???’

Me: ‘I’ve still not been paid for last time …’

And of course, then, he called.

It was now Thursday morning and I’d been avoiding Scott partly because of Henry partly because of my unease at his presence at the swimming pool, but mostly because I knew I needed to end the arrangement and I was too nervous to face him.

I’d sent Scott a couple of innocuous texts, given him a gentle nudge to chase up the remaining money, and he’d replied, telling me he was on to it; and again later, saying they’d had problems with the computing system at work. It was all sorted out now, money on its way, and so on and so forth.

But it hadn’t arrived.

‘Roz, huge apologies,’ Scott said breathlessly when I picked up, ‘I had no idea you were still waiting. I’ll draw out the cash. I’m terribly embarrassed. I hate owing money.’

‘That’s okay,’ I said evenly. ‘Money’s not as tight as it once was.’

‘No,’ he laughed. ‘You’ll have no further use for me soon. I’ll have to come up with some other way to lure you back.’

I laughed along with him, though when I looked at my reflection I wasn’t smiling.

‘So, how is everything?’ he asked. ‘You’re still busy at work, I presume?’

‘Always. You know how it is. I’ve had an offer, actually, to go back on my own.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes, from a patient. A guy I’ve known for years has offered me premises. Affordable premises. And he doesn’t really want any money up front, so there’s no great risk involved.’

Scott was silent.

‘Scott?’

‘Sorry, sorry, I got distracted there for a moment. That’s simply wonderful news, Roz. I’m delighted for you.’ His words sounded hollow. ‘When will you get going on this new venture?’

‘A few weeks, I think. There are some renovations that need to be completed, but it shouldn’t take too long.’

‘Excellent. And what about Henry? How are things working out on that front?’

‘Okay,’ I said, non-committal.

‘Do you see it going anywhere?’

Strange how people think they have a right to know. I wouldn’t dream of asking how a person’s marriage was going, or their relationship with their mother.

Though I did suspect Scott’s inquiry had less to do with concern for my long-term happiness and more to do with finding out if I’d slept with his brother-in-law.

‘You didn’t think to mention he’d lost his son?’ I said carefully.

Scott cleared his throat. ‘Must have slipped my mind.’

I was about to reply when he said, ‘Why, is he playing the sympathy card again?’

Gut-punched, I nearly dropped the phone.

‘I thought he’d stopped with all that.’ He said. ‘I
thought
that the whole point of him moving back here was to put it all behind him. Anyway, it wasn’t like it happened yesterday. And he doesn’t like people to talk about it, so …’

I wasn’t quite sure how to respond.

Eventually, I recovered enough to say, ‘So, the money, Scott?’

‘Indeed,’ he said. ‘The money.’

‘What do you suggest?’

And he said, ‘How about I drop by the clinic with it in an hour?’

I turned on the windscreen wipers. The weather had changed abruptly. A fast moving storm was sweeping across the area and had everyone scurrying for their homes.

The wiper on the driver’s side of the Jeep was damaged. With each stroke it made a soft groan, then juddered, leaving behind a small patch of uncleared glass, obscuring my line of sight. I had to sit tall and slightly forwards in the seat to make out the road ahead.

I was on my way to the Coniston holiday home that Scott had rented for our convenience. I had declined his offer of stopping by the clinic, thinking it prudent to meet where we couldn’t be observed. And it occurred to me as we discussed the meet-up that we hadn’t fully made use of the place – perhaps as he had first hoped. I wondered if Scott was annoyed by this. If he was, he didn’t give the impression of being so. In fact, he brushed away my remark with a comment about how life had the habit of getting in the way of the best-laid plans.

Did I detect a certain brittleness to his tone? I couldn’t be sure.

I drove through the hamlet of Hawkshead Hill, past the Baptist chapel – a tiny church slotted right in amongst a row of neat, pretty, white cottages. The road climbed steadily until reaching the crossroads at the summit. Turn right for Tarn Hows, the spot at which I’d watched the sun go down, drinking beer with Henry. Head straight on for Coniston.

I descended slowly, the car buffeted by the crosswinds, and practised the beginnings of my speech.

I planned to tell Scott that we both knew our arrangement must come to a close. That we could not continue, things being as they were. It was too risky. Fate had planted obstacles in our way, in the shape of Henry, amongst other things, and this would be the end of what, for me, had been an enjoyable, not to mention lucrative, few weeks. But it was now over.

That should be all right, I thought. Say that, take the money, and run.

And Scott
had
alluded to the same line of thinking on the phone an hour ago. Just as he bid me goodbye he had laughed, saying that ours had probably been the most successful relationship of his life. He wished they could all be that simple, he said. We both got exactly what we needed out of it.

Ten minutes later, and I turned off the road. A branch had been pulled from a nearby oak and lay strewn across the track. I was upon it before realizing and decided to chance driving over it, rather than get out and hurl the thing over the hedgerow.

There was a hard clunk beneath the chassis, followed by a feeling of dragging a body beneath the car. A few yards further on and it must have released, as I was driving freely again. I didn’t get out to check. Always best not to know what damage has been done, I found.

At the end of the track the cottage appeared. Less picturesque than last time, it looked more like what it actually was: secluded, stark and a little shoddy.

There were no lights on inside. I stayed in the car and waited for Scott. The windscreen soon became misted so I got the engine running again, directed some of the heat upwards. Instantly, it was stuffy.

Lowering the window an inch, I heard a bell. It was ringing, faintly, and must have been positioned either on a yacht’s mast, or else on a buoy, out on the lake some way from the shore. The way it cried out at irregular intervals was eerie, evoking the image of the lone swimmer taken under the water in the opening scenes of
Jaws
.