The School Gates (15 page)

‘No way!’ Gordon said firmly and cuddled his girls tightly. ‘Now.’ He helped them to their feet and stood up. ‘Daddy Gordy has got to go to work. Inga will take you to school and then when she picks you up, she can take you to the pet shop to choose another hamster.’

The girls looked at each other and both turned their noses up.

‘Can we have a kitten instead?’ they said in unison.

These days there wasn’t even the uncertainty of a faint blue line. No need to hold the white plastic wand of fate up to the light, no need to wait just a minute more to see if the line got darker the longer you left it. No, these days the word – PREGNANT – screamed out from the test.

Amazing if that was the desired state. Horrifying, if it wasn’t.

Alana sat on the side of the bath. She felt numb. She felt sick. She felt desperate. One could almost be allowed to make the stupid mistake of becoming pregnant once – but twice? Now that really was pathetic.

‘You stupid cow,’ she said aloud. ‘You stupid, stupid cow.’

‘Chicken madras for me, and a chicken korma, sag aloo, plain rice and a keema nan for the lady, please,’ Colin addressed the smartly dressed waiter in their local Indian.

‘How did you know that’s what I wanted?’ Joan asked.

‘Because it’s what we’ve ordered for the past ten years, my darling wife.’

‘Well, maybe I’m bored of having korma.’

‘Or maybe you’re just bored of me,’ Colin said nervously.

Joan said nothing and took a slurp of her beer. It had seemed like such a treat when Mo agreed to babysit, allowing her and Colin to have a long-awaited night out. However, she could now feel a rising guilt inside of her and wished they were home watching the Friday-night soaps instead.

‘Is everything all right, Joanie? I know that the diabetes thing knocked you for six, but you just don’t seem yourself at the moment.’

‘I’m fine, pet. Just a bit tired, that’s all.’

Joan looked at her husband’s soft kind features, encased in his big round face. The crinkles around his eyes told the story of a life full of love and laughter, and she felt as if she was going to cry.

‘We don’t even have our Friday nights any more,’ Colin went on. ‘In fact, I can’t even remember the last time we did have a shag. Is it because I’ve put on weight?’

‘Don’t be such a silly old fool. It’s nothing, honestly.’

The waiter placed the hot plates on the table.

‘Actually, it isn’t nothing, Col,’ she suddenly blurted out. ‘Look – just tell me straight: are you having an affair?’

If somebody had hit Colin in the face with an iron bar it would have hurt less.

‘An affair?’ He could barely get the words out. ‘Joan, have you gone completely mad?’

‘Well,’ she spluttered. ‘You are always working late, and sometimes you don’t pick up your phone. In fact, I thought it was you who didn’t want to have sex with me any more. What’s happening to us, Colin? We barely talk these days.’

Colin then started to laugh. In fact, he tipped his head back and guffawed so loudly that his big belly danced around and banged the table so hard it made the glasses clink. Other people in the restaurant were staring.

‘Stand up, Joanie,’ he commanded.

‘No, I shan’t.’ She looked around her and felt embarrassed that he was causing a scene.

‘Come on, you silly old mare.’ He helped her up. Joan Brown made a quizzical face as her husband of ten years came to her side and led her from the table. She adjusted her bosom in the new red dress she had got from the charity shop that afternoon.

The maitre d opened a door at the rear of the restaurant and Colin ushered his wife through to the back room of the curry house.

‘SURPRISE!’ shouted thirty grown-up and children’s voices.

Clark, Kent and Skye covered her in party-popper ribbon, while Cissy slept face-down in her high chair in the corner. The DJ played ‘Happy Birthday’ by Altered Images.

‘Happy fortieth, my beautiful wife.’ Colin grabbed her and gave her a big kiss.

Joan was dumbstruck.

‘But it’s not until next week,’ she gasped.

‘It was the only day I could get everyone together.’

Joan laughed and kissed him back. Then, she ran around joyfully greeting relatives and friends she hadn’t seen for ages.

‘Mo, I cannot believe you kept this quiet!’ Joan squealed to her friend.

‘It was bloody hard work. I nearly had to tell you. I mean, as if Colin would EVER have an affair.’

‘I know. It all makes sense now,’ the birthday girl grinned.

‘Of course it makes bloody sense,’ Colin interrupted. ‘Not only have I been working overtime to afford this extravaganza – I’ve had to be out of range of your flappy ears to allow me to talk to everyone.’

He picked her up and swung her around, his moon face growing redder as he did so.

‘I love you, Mrs Brown.’

‘And I love you, Mr Brown,’ Joan squealed, nearly falling as Colin placed her down clumsily.

‘Whoa there, birthday girl.’ Charlie steadied her. ‘You don’t want to be doing gymnastics at your age, you know.’

Joan went as red as her husband.

Ffion giggled. ‘Don’t be so rude, you.’

‘I actually used to be good on the floor at primary school,’ Joan blurted out.

‘I bet you did,’ Charlie winked. ‘Now come on, Ffi, let’s get a drink.’

‘It’ll take more than a Pinot Grigio to get me in that caravan with you,’ the Welsh girl trilled, as Mo’s eldest led her to the bar with a swagger.

‘Somehow I doubt that,’ Joan said under her breath.

‘Your hair looks nice today,’ Ron commented from his armchair as Mo buttoned up Rosie’s coat ready for school.

Ffion had cut and coloured her hair for free as part of her beauty course and Mo had to admit to herself that it did take years off her. She also felt better in herself as she had still managed to keep the stone off she had lost before Christmas. However, it had been just too cold and dark to go walking in January and she was becoming concerned that she would be back at square one if she didn’t get focused again soon.

‘Thanks,’ Mo said dismissively, although feeling slightly warmed by this first show of affection from her husband since he’d stopped drinking.

‘I was thinking that I might walk down to the Job Centre today, you know. Just see what’s about.’

‘Good idea, love. Although you’d better get going quickly, by the look of this weather.’

‘Snow!’ Rosie shrieked. ‘I’m so excited. Mummy, can I go outside and play?’

‘No, I’ve got to get you to school, then get on to work. Come on, it’s already settling on the pavements. You’d best wear your wellies.’

‘They don’t fit any more.’

Mo grimaced and made a mental note to delve into the Escape Fund at work and go shopping in her lunch-break.

‘See you later then, love.’ Ron kissed his wife on the cheek and headed out into the white flakes that were now coming down hard and fast.

Biting her lip, Mo reached to touch her face. She felt awful thinking it, but she actually wished that Ron wasn’t on his road to recovery. Yes, Charlie was right to bring things to a head, as she had been too weak to take control. But, she had got everything in place to leave the abusive alcoholic and now as each day passed and the drink left his system, Ron started to become his old reliable self. Which, in her eyes, left no justifiable reason to walk out of the door.

Yes, he had done and said some terrible things to her but Rosie seemed so much happier – and who gave her the right to take a daughter away from the father she so dearly loved?

‘Mummeee!’ Rosie was now chomping at the bit to get out in the snow. ‘Come on. Shall I just wear my school shoes?’

‘I tell you what, put your old trainers on for now and I’ll see if I can get you some wellies later.’

‘The forecast says we are to expect six inches today and they

can’t see it thawing before the weekend,’ Ffion announced loudly as she strolled into the surgery half an hour late. ‘Had to dig me bloody car out of the drive this morning, I did.’ Then she whispered to Mo, ‘Is the grim one in?’

‘No, it’s just me, you and Doctor D. She lives up the top of a hill evidently and felt it too risky to come in, in case she couldn’t get back up it.’

‘Whoopee, it’s party-time then. In fact, we should be quiet all morning, as I bet loads of people will cancel,’ the young Welsh girl trilled.

‘Well, unless they get brought in with snow-related injuries,’ Mo replied.

Noah Anderson walked out of his room into the office area.

‘They should go straight to A&E, in that case,’ he commented.

‘Yeah maybe,’ Ffion replied, getting up to go to the kitchen and put the kettle on.

Once alone, the doctor put his hand on Mo’s shoulder.

‘How’s it all going at home?’

‘Fine,’ Mo said in a non-committal fashion.

Since that dreadful night, once the initial mortification had worn off, she felt so much closer to him.

‘Ron still going to the meetings?’

‘Oh, yes. In fact, he was heading off to the Job Centre this morning.’

‘Wow. That’s great, Mo, isn’t it?’

Mo faltered. ‘There’s so much water under the bridge, it’s going to take time. I’m not quite ready to trust him.’

The doctor felt he couldn’t pry any more.

‘Well, if you need any advice or just a plain and simple chat, then I’m always here for you.’

‘Thank you. I really do appreciate all you’ve done for us.’

‘Your hair looks stunning, by the way,’ he offered as he went back to his treatment room.

‘He fancies you,’ Ffion murmured, placing a tray of hot drinks on her desk.

‘Don’t be so bloody daft,’ Mo scoffed. ‘Next, you’ll be telling me there’s a knight on a white charger knocking down the door to whisk us both away.’

Ffion and Mo dealt with the many cancellations that came flooding in. The snow was coming down thicker than ever – a mesmerising white-out of slow motion flakes that settled neatly on everything that would let it.

‘More tea, matey.’ Ffion plonked a mug on Mo’s desk, then scrabbled around in her drawer to reveal a packet of digestives. ‘Biscuit?’

‘No, ta. I’m on a mission to lose more weight before the summer comes,’ Mo replied, without looking up from her game of Solitaire.

‘Talking of losing, I feel SO lost now Charlie has gone.’ Ffion stuck out her bottom lip.

‘Me too,’ Mo concurred. ‘But with the job market as it is, he couldn’t refuse it when his boss realised he’d made a mistake. And anyway, in this weather he would have frozen to death in the Browns’ caravan.’

‘Yeah, I realise all of that.’ Ffion sighed and sat down.

‘Anyway, he’s only in London. You’ll still see him, won’t you? And he’s promised to come and see us a lot more regularly.’

‘Yes, but probably only some weekends,’ Ffion replied quietly.

‘And Bruno?’

‘Bruno who?’ The youngster smirked.

‘Well, that’s good. As although I know my son is far from perfect where the ladies are concerned, I couldn’t openly condone you two-timing him!’

A middle-aged man came to the hatch, wearing bright red wellies. Mo ushered him through to the doctor.

‘That reminds me – I need to get some money out of my Escape Fund.’ Mo started rooting around in her in-tray for the key to the cash-tin that was hidden in her bottom drawer. ‘Have you seen it, Ffi, the little gold key that opens my cash tin?’

Ffion went a deep shape of pink.

Mo opened her bottom drawer to see if she had maybe left the key in the lock.

Ffion put her hand to her head.

‘Mo, I’m so sorry – I think I may have made an unforgivable mistake.’

‘Charlie?’ Mo closed her eyes momentarily.

Ffion nodded. ‘During all the commotion, he told me that you had asked him to come and collect the money.’

‘All of it?’

Ffion nodded again.

‘There was nine hundred pounds in there.’

‘Oh Mo, I’m so sorry. Shall I call him? He may not pick up for you, if he thinks you’ve found out.’

The number you are calling is no longer registered greeted Ffion’s naïve young ears.

‘I could try his workplace. Do you have the number, Mo?’

Mo stood up and put her arms around Ffi. ‘I think the Denbury Dish total has just dropped a peg, love.’

Her son had just duped her again and she wasn’t even angry. Nature – nurture? Nurture – nature? You can take the boy from his dad, she thought – but you can’t always take the dad out of his boy.

– Chapter Thirteen –

Robbie clocked Gordon before he clocked him. He walked up behind him at the classroom door and whispered, ‘Don’t scream or you’re outed,’ whilst slyly pinching his bum.

Gordon felt a shiver run through him, and then composing himself, he said coolly, ‘Hi, Robbie, how you doing ? Happy New Year and all that.’