The Waiting Game (11 page)

After breakfast, they went for a walk through Deptford market. It was a clear, sunny day that made everything vivid. Or maybe that was just her. She had to stop herself skipping as they crossed the road outside the hotel.

Jim reached out, took her hand in his. It felt good there.

‘Remember this bloke Jerome I was telling you about?’ he asked.

Ellen nodded. The young apprentice who’d been working with Jim for the last four months.

‘He’s really good,’ Jim said. ‘As soon as he’s trained up, I’m planning to cut down my hours. Means we’d be able to spend a bit more time together.’

‘What? You mean during the day and stuff?’

Jim grinned. ‘Your enthusiasm never fails to bowl me over. Yes, during the day and stuff. I like you. I like being with you. Hey, we could take up a hobby together.’

‘A hobby.’

‘Yeah, you know, like bridge or tennis or golf. What do you say?’

‘I say you’d better be joking.’

‘What?’ He feigned disappointment. ‘You don’t
want
us to have a hobby together?’

‘Most definitely not.’

‘And the bit about seeing a bit more of each other?’ he asked. ‘Would you rather I was joking about that too?’

She thought about it. Not for long.

‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m glad you’re not joking about that.’

Ahead of them, Ellen could see the market, crowding out the bottom of Deptford High Street onto the New Cross Road. Her father used to bring her here when she was a kid. They’d come on Saturday mornings and buy a whole salmon from the Cod Father fish shop. These days, when she wanted fresh fish, she bought it from the fish counter in Drings on Royal Hill.

‘There’s a brilliant fish stall down there,’ Jim said. ‘The Cod Father. You can get a whole salmon there for under a tenner.’

It was unnerving. She would be thinking about something and, right at the same moment, he’d start talking about it. Unnerving but kind of cute, too. If you were the sort of person who did cute. Which she certainly was not.

Two miles along the river from Greenwich, Deptford High Street was a different world. Down-at-heel, edgy, diverse, bursting with life. Pushing their way through the Saturday morning crowds, taking in the variety of things you could buy – everything from bathroom appliances to fresh lobster – was invigorating. Ellen felt like a child with a pocketful of money. She couldn’t decide what to buy first. She wanted all of it. At a stall selling fake designer jeans, she had to stop herself grabbing a selection there and then. Before she could indulge her desire for useless tat, Jim grabbed her hand and steered her off the high street, down a quiet street leading off to the east.

‘Where are we going?’ she asked.

‘Here.’ He pointed in front of them.

Ellen stopped, delighted. Right in front of her, at the end of the street, stood a white stone church. At the front of the building there was a circular tower with a steeple rising from the centre. Four giant columns enclosed the tower, making Ellen think the church would sit better in a rural Italian village rather than here, in the heart of urban Deptford.

‘It’s beautiful,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen the spire, of course, whenever I’ve driven past. But I’ve never taken the time to come and see it.’

‘St Paul’s, Deptford,’ Jim said. ‘Baroque. Designed by Thomas Archer and built in the early eighteenth century.’

‘Can we go inside?’ Ellen asked.

‘Not now,’ Jim said. ‘But we can come back another time.
Bring the kids. You have to phone ahead to make an appointment. Better still, the church has its own chamber orchestra. We should come some evening and see a concert.’

‘I’d like that,’ Ellen said.

Inside the churchyard, they sat on the church steps looking back towards the market. Ellen wondered if Sean had ever been here. It was the sort of place he’d love. She’d never heard him mention it, but that didn’t mean anything. These days, they lived such separate lives.

‘Are you and Ray close?’ she asked. She’d often wondered what it was like for other siblings. Whether they felt that fierce, protective love she had for her twin brother.

‘Not like you and Sean,’ Jim said, doing that thing again. Cute, she decided.

‘And not as much as we used to be. I idolised him when I was a kid. He was my big brother. We never had that competitive thing that some brothers do. He looked after me, I guess. Our dad wasn’t an easy man so Ray was sort of my role model. I didn’t want to be better than him, I just wanted to
be
him. Does that make any sense?’

‘Perfect sense,’ Ellen said.

‘By the time I went away, we’d already grown apart,’ Jim said. ‘My fault. I’d realised there was something different about him. My parents tried to ignore it. Well, my mother did. I don’t think my father even noticed, if I’m honest. My mother acted as if all the messed-up things Ray did were just minor setbacks. She
didn’t get it. She couldn’t see that Ray’s just… he’s not… normal’s the wrong word but he’s not equipped to deal with day-to-day life the way most people are. His head’s not wired that way. He can’t cope. And because he can’t cope, he cracked up. Couldn’t take the strain.

‘The first time he lost it, I was sixteen. Ray was twenty. Still living at home. Poor Mum thought he was working, but he’d been fired from whatever job he had. Again. He still got up every morning, let my mother make him breakfast before he headed off. Except instead of going to work, he’d go and sit on his own for the day. Then this one day, he went to the pub. And stayed there. Didn’t come home for three days. Police eventually found him near London Bridge, drunk and confused.

‘At the time, I was angry with him. Hated him for putting my poor mother through it. She had enough on her plate with my father, believe me. I thought, stupidly, that he had some choice about the way he behaved.’

‘You don’t think that now?’ Ellen asked.

Jim shook his head. ‘He can’t help who he is. I didn’t understand that back then. It’s because of him I left home and went travelling. I wanted to get away. From all of them. From Ray and his problems and my parents and their inability to see him for what he really was.’

Except he came back. And now here he was, sitting beside her, brown hair hanging down over a greeny-blue eye. Brown hair speckled with sparkles of golden sunlight. Eyes the colour of
the sea on a summer’s day. Their arms were touching. She could feel the outline of hard muscle through the fabric of his shirt. She remembered what his body looked like naked. The memory made her shiver.

‘What made you think about me and Ray?’ Jim asked.

‘Sean, I guess,’ Ellen said. ‘I miss him sometimes. We’re not as close as we used to be. Which is normal, of course. Except I’ve done something and haven’t told him about it and I feel guilty.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I should have spoken to him first.’

The folded sheet of white paper on the table by her bed. Folded over to cover up the writing she knew by heart. Each word branded onto her brain.

Noreen McGrath, Hope House, Middle Road, Shilbottle, Alnwick, Northumberland, NE66 2TH.

‘I’ve found our mother,’ Ellen said. ‘Noreen. I’ve got an address and a telephone number. I’m going to contact her.’

‘And Sean won’t like that?’ Jim asked.

‘He wants to forget all about her,’ Ellen said. ‘I can’t do that. I thought I could. I tried, really tried, but it’s no good. I need to know why she did it.’

Jim’s silence irritated her.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘You think I should leave it?’

‘Sorry,’ Jim said. ‘I was just thinking… it must have been so terrible for her. Bad enough losing one child, but then to lose the other two as well. Being locked up all that time, knowing you
and Sean were out there somewhere, without her. She must have felt so helpless.’

Ellen had to swallow the lump in her throat before she was able to speak.

‘So you think it’s the right thing?’ she asked.

He squeezed her arm. ‘Of course I do.’

‘Only I can’t help thinking,’ Ellen said. ‘If she’d wanted to find me, she’d have done something about it herself.’

His phone started ringing. He jumped up, pulled it from his pocket, checked the caller’s number and diverted the call.

‘Take it if you need to,’ Ellen said.

He shook his head.

‘Your mother was convicted of murdering your sister,’ he said. ‘She spent time in prison. Even if Eilish’s death was an accident – and you don’t know that it wasn’t – the guilt she must have felt, can you imagine what that would do to a person? Just being on trial… And for the death of your own daughter.’ He shook his head. ‘She might not want to talk about it. Will you be okay with that?’

Standing there like that in front of the church, hands held out, he reminded Ellen of Christ on the cross. Except hotter than that. A lot hotter. He wore a white linen shirt. The top buttons were open, revealing a patch of tanned skin and the silver chain he wore around his neck. The sun reflected off the small medallion hanging off the chain so that it seemed to glow with its own light. The chain had belonged to his father and he once told her
that he never took it off. Ellen pictured herself walking over to him, running her hand up inside the shirt, along his flat stomach.

‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said. ‘Not anymore. Do you mind?’

‘Fine by me,’ he said. ‘Come on. Let’s go back to the market and spend some money. There must be something we can pick up for Pat and Eilish.’

They walked away from the church and into the throng of Deptford Market. The noise and bustle was just what she needed right now. It helped block out the dark thoughts she didn’t want.

‘We’re going out again tonight.’

‘Who?’

‘Me and Carl, of course.’ Chloe frowned. ‘The guy from work. I’ve just been telling you about him. Haven’t you been listening?’

‘I’m confused,’ Anne said. ‘I thought you worked with Nathan.’

Anne sounded groggy, like she’d just woken up. But it was nearly midday.

‘I work with both of them,’ Chloe said. ‘But you’ve met Nathan. Surely you don’t think… I mean, I know he’s lovely and everything, but not in
that
way.’

‘Sorry,’ Anne said. ‘Of course. Right then. Where are you going and what are you going to wear?’

‘He’s taking me for dinner. Some new restaurant in Blackheath
he says is lovely,’ Chloe said. ‘And that’s the problem, I don’t know what to wear. What do you think?’

Anne laughed. ‘Chloe, darling, I have no idea what your wardrobe looks like.’

Of course. Stupid, stupid. What was she thinking?

‘Sorry,’ Chloe said. ‘I’d better go. I’m still at work and Nathan will be back soon. I don’t want him to know about me and Carl. He wouldn’t approve.’

‘Whoa,’ Anne said. ‘You can’t leave it there. I’ll tell you what, Chloe, I’ll come over later. Help you get ready. I’ll bring a bottle of something fizzy. Get you in the mood. How does that sound?’

‘Are you sure?’ Chloe asked.

‘Absolutely,’ Anne said. ‘Isn’t that what friends are for?’

It was only when she hung up that Chloe noticed Nathan had come back in at some point. He was standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at her. She wanted to ask how long he’d been there, but something about the look on his face stopped her. It was a look she’d never seen before: disappointment mixed with anger. Or maybe she was just imagining it.

She smiled brightly and turned to her computer, pretending to get on with her work. Even though she was so excited about later, work was the very last thing on her mind right now.

When she looked back again, Nathan was still standing in the same spot.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked.

His face cleared and he smiled, transforming him from an ogre
to the friend she knew and trusted.

‘I’m fine,’ he said. ‘You?’

She nodded, tension draining from her body, glad it had only been her imagination.

‘I’m fine, too,’ she said. ‘Thanks.’

It was early afternoon by the time Ellen collected the children from their sleepover. They’d spent the night with their friends, Rufus and Izzy. Their mother, Kirstie, insisted on dragging Ellen in for a coffee and a ‘date debrief’.

‘You’ve got that glow,’ Kirstie said. ‘The one you only see on women who’ve been having too much good sex.’

‘Can you have too much good sex?’ Ellen asked.

Kirstie looked glum. ‘How would I know? The last time I had a good shag was in my late twenties. In that rare time when things were actually good between Phil and me. Before I found out I wasn’t the only person he was having great sex with. So come on, gory details please. I’ve no love life of my own so I have to share yours. What was it like?’

‘We had a great time,’ Ellen said. ‘I like him. A lot, I think. At the risk of tempting fate, I’d say things are going pretty well right now.’

Better than that. After checking out of the hotel, he’d driven her home and they’d gone straight to bed. Again. She’d thought it might feel strange, having sex in the bed she’d once shared with Vinny. But it wasn’t. Everything about being with Jim felt right.

‘Are you seeing him later?’ Kirstie asked.

‘Tomorrow,’ Ellen said. ‘I wanted to spend some time with the kids this evening. Not that they seem bothered one way or the other.’

In fact, when she’d come to collect them, both children had been disappointed to see her, begging her to let them spend another night at their friends’ house.

‘They’re welcome to stay,’ Kirstie said.

Ellen shook her head. No matter how brilliant Jim was, being with her children was more important. She’d promised them a movie and pizza night and that’s what she was going to give them. Whether they liked it or not.

Besides, Jim hadn’t asked to see her tonight. Which was fine with Ellen. Things were great right now and she hoped they’d continue that way, but she wasn’t going to rush things. And she certainly wasn’t going to let him take priority over being with her children. They would always come first.

They ordered pizzas from Geronimo’s Pizza House on Trafalgar Road (‘the crack cocaine of pizzas’ was how Vinny used to describe them) and watched
The Princess Bride
, Ellen’s all-time favourite children’s movie.

When the film ended, she took Eilish to bed then stayed up chatting with Pat, the two of them snuggled on the sofa together. His latest obsession was Minecraft and he spoke compulsively about his kingdom, his favourite Minecraft videos on YouTube and the pros and cons of Minecraft PC versus Minecraft for tablets. Midway through a lengthy explanation about the Minecraft game, Pat suddenly asked about Jim.

‘If he’s a plumber,’ Pat said, ‘does that mean he has to stick his hand inside people’s toilets when they’re broken?’

‘Sometimes, I suppose,’ Ellen said. ‘Why don’t you ask him when we see him tomorrow?’

‘What’s happening tomorrow?’ Pat asked.

‘Jim’s coming with us to Sean and Terry’s for lunch,’ Ellen said. ‘Is that okay?’

Pat shrugged. ‘Suppose so. I don’t care, really. He’s okay, Jim. He’s funny. But I don’t want to live in his house, Mum. I like living here. He lives miles away and it’s really far from my school and where my friends live.’

‘We’re not moving into Jim’s house,’ Ellen said, making her voice sound as firm as she possibly could. ‘This is your home, Pat, and I have no intention of moving out. Not now, not anytime in the future either.’

‘Yeah but what if you and Jim get married?’

‘I’ve only been seeing him a few weeks,’ Ellen said.

‘Eight weeks and four days,’ Pat interrupted.

‘Okay. Eight weeks and four days. Way too early to think about anything long-term.’

‘So you might stop seeing him and get a different boyfriend instead?’

‘No!’ Ellen nudged him with her elbow. ‘Pat, I don’t know what’s going to happen with Jim. I like him and I think he likes me. Who knows what will happen in the future? For now, all I can do is take things one day at a time.’

Pat yawned and Ellen took that as her cue to suggest it was bedtime. For once, he didn’t protest. A few minutes later, he was tucked up in bed, eyes already closing as sleep swept down and claimed him. Ellen kissed him on the forehead, lingering for a moment as she always did, before she switched off his light and went to go. She was just closing the door when he said something.

‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘What was that? I didn’t catch it.’

‘I said I hope you don’t get a new boyfriend,’ Pat said. ‘I like Jim. He’s nice and you smile more when you’re with him.’

‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ Ellen said. ‘Goodnight.’

‘Night, Mum. Love you.’

‘Love you too, darling.’

Downstairs, Ellen went into the kitchen and poured herself a healthy measure of Merlot. She wanted Jim. Had barely stopped thinking about him all day. Worse than a besotted teenager. She
stood in the kitchen, leaning against the island, drinking wine and going back over every detail of last night, wishing he was here now and they could do it all over again.

She finished her wine, poured another glass, went into the sitting room, put on a CD and sat down. The CD was from Jim. Elbow. A band she knew only because they’d played at the closing ceremony of the London 2012 Games. She loved every song on the CD, even the over-played
One Day Like This
. When it came on, she cranked up the volume, letting the soaring orchestral extravaganza fill the room.

Her phone was on the table. She picked it up and sent Jim a text:
Home alone with Guy Garvey. What you up to?

He’d told her what he was doing but she couldn’t remember. Meeting his brother? Maybe. She wondered how late he’d stay out and if he’d think about dropping this way later. If he replied to her text, she would send him another text, suggesting just that.

But he didn’t reply. She drank more wine and listened to more music. At some point, unable to keep her eyes open, she drifted into an uneasy sleep, dreaming of a stranger in the house, creeping around upstairs, trying to steal the children from their beds.

She woke with a start, convinced at first it was more than a dream, that there really was someone there. It was only gradually, as she became more awake, that she realised she was okay.

A bad dream, nothing more than that. The children were safe and so was she.