Waiting for Grace (8 page)

I laughed. “How could I forget? You were fuming.” I smiled.

“And you were awestruck at the city.” I looked to my hands. “That was a great summer.” He sighed.

“Definitely,” I agreed.

“So we’re going to Bethnal Green?” he asked.

“Yep.” I smiled, glancing out the window again.

“Are you nervous or something?” he asked.

“Something,” I sighed. “I just want everything to go well. Devon is so excited about having a daddy.”

“She is?” he asked, grinning.

“Yes, and I just want it to be everything for her and I hope …”

“You hope I don’t fuck it up,” he sighed. I didn’t respond. “I won’t,” he said, placing his hand on mine. “I won’t freak out, I just want to meet her, be her dad, okay?”

“But we’re so different now.” I let my eyes roam around his black, leather interior with its swish gadgets. “I can’t remember how we ever went together.”

“I can.” He squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry, after tonight it’ll be like the three of us have never been apart.”

“You think so?” I asked.

“I know so.” My heart sped up as his hand remained on mine. Then his mobile phone rang on his hands free stand on the dashboard. I looked away so as to not invade his privacy. He moved his hand from mine and pressed it off, but didn’t touch me again.

“Robert,” I said.

“Yep.” He turned to me and his eyes met mine.

“Thanks for letting the anger go and forgiving me.”

“Grace …” he shook his head. “There is so much … I just … I was pissed off, but I get it, okay? I’m not blameless. I’m just glad Owen came in the café this week.”

“Me too.” I sighed and then I turned to look out of the window again.

***

We found a parking space on the old Victorian residential street that housed our flat. Once a street lined with palatial homes for the rich Victorian gentry, it was now littered with hundreds of flats like ours. Robert pulled in and then turned to me. “Ready.” He smiled; I smiled back.

“She’ll love you.” I squeezed his hand. I had texted ahead to let Maria know we were on our way and to prepare Devon. Despite me being Devon’s mum and Maria Max’s, the lines had been blurred over the years. Devon and Maria had a lot in common. They were both girly girls who loved make up, fashion, shopping and dressing up. I had never been like that. So often Max and I kicked back on the sofa watching his favourite football team, Chelsea, whilst they went shopping. Devon loved Maria like a second mother and I didn’t once worry that Maria wasn’t preparing her for this monumental moment, perhaps better than I ever could.

We made our way through the porch. I checked the post box out of habit and we made our way upstairs. When we reached the door I smiled encouragingly at Robert and we stepped inside, into our light, airy hallway that was tidy for once. He took it all in, from the wooden sideboard that held photos and neatly piled post, to our shoe rack that must have held every type and size of shoe known to man. There was no getting away from the fact that this was a home, with a family living here who were busy, messy, and judging by the noise coming from the lounge, noisy. I motioned for him to follow me, and we stepped into the open lounge to see three faces turn our way.

“Devon,” I said lightly, motioning her to run over. My heart melted when I saw that she put her favourite party dress on, a white dress with big pink spots, and a silk pink ribbon around the waist. Robert watched her walk towards us, and his eyes misted over, as I knew he saw what I saw. She was just like him. Her blonde hair fell down her back waywardly, and her blue eyes shone as she trotted towards us from the nest of sofas. Maria and Max were silent and sat down, turning to the television. She stood in front of me, between us, and looked up to Robert. I bent down and spoke to her, “This is Robert Banford, this is your dad.” I smiled. She looked at him and he smiled at her, bending down as well.

He held his hand out. “Hello, Devon, pleased to meet you.” She took it and then jumped forward hugging him. He held her and looked at me, his eyes shining with emotion, his mouth held in a tight smile. Devon pulled back and looked at him again.

“We have the same hair,” she said, pointing towards his hair.

“Yes,” He nodded. “We do.”

“I’ve always wanted a dad,” she said, and again my heart stung with pain for her. She had never said that before.

“Well here you go,” Robert said, standing up, “You got one now, I’m not going anywhere.”

“Great,” she said matter-of-factly. “Max has been the only boy for years.” She turned to Max and he popped his head over the top of the sofa.

“Hi, Max.” Robert waved, and he took it as an invitation and ran over.

“What football team do you support?” Max asked Robert tentatively.

“Man United,” he said and smiled.

“Wrong answer.” Max rolled his eyes. “We’re Chelsea here.”

“Oh,” Robert said, scratching his head, “Well no one’s perfect.”

Max eyed him suspiciously. “Hmm … okay, what car do you drive?”

Robert was about to answer when Devon interrupted, “Max stop talking boy rubbish to Dad. Now Dad let me show you my dancing trophies over here.” Devon took him to the sofas where Maria sat and she sprung up.

“Tea anyone?” she asked. “I’m Maria.” She stuck her hand out. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Robert, you too.” He shook her hand, “Tea would be great, unless … are you hungry Devon, Grace? Are we going out?”

“Oh yes, Devon, come on, lets’ get your coat and your dad is going to take us out for tea.”

“Max, too?” she looked to Robert and then to Max.

“Um …” I smiled. “Not tonight, baby. It’s your first tea with daddy, so maybe another time?”

“Max has had some tea anyway,” Maria said, walking to put the kettle on.

“Max is more than welcome,” Robert said. “He needs to make sure I’ve got some good qualities after I failed on the footy score.”

“Oh no,” Maria said. “You three go and enjoy yourselves.”

“Really?” Robert asked. “It’s no problem.”

I looked at Robert questioningly and he shrugged. “You want to come Maxie?” I asked.

“Yes!” he said excitedly. “Please …” he corrected himself.

“Okay then,” Robert said. “Coats on and let’s get this show on the road.” I smiled at him as he stood in our lounge and rubbed his hands together. In that moment he was just Robert. He wasn’t a grown up, a lawyer, a stranger; he was the excitable teenager who took charge when I couldn’t make a decision. He was the boy who made me feel special, the boy who made me realise that I deserved more, and the boy I had missed for seven years.

Nine

Eight Years Earlier

Mum had been admitted to hospital after her fall. We stayed at A&E for three hours the night Robert and I had found her. Robert didn’t leave my side, and Barbara and Bob stayed close, drinking coffee, and checking in with the nurses. Eventually she regained consciousness, but she was quite battered. They had no idea how far she had fallen and wanted to rule out a fractured skull. So she was admitted and we were told to go home.

“You’ll stay with us,” Barbara said in the car on the way home. It was 3.30_am and the streets were deserted. The summer night had a chill, and I leaned my head against the window staring into the clear night sky, dusted with stars.

“I’m fine,” I sighed as I fought off emotion. As much as I hated my mum, her zombie-like state and her horrendously embarrassing issues, she was also all I had, and losing her would be unbearable. I knew nothing else but her indifference, and if she left me, then I would just have nothing.

“No young girl is going back to that big house all alone at three in the morning. We have a guest room and you’ll get comfortable in there.”

“Thank you,” I whispered. When we parked, we all trudged inside and were overwhelmed with tiredness.

“She’ll be fine.” Barbara squeezed me as we all made our way upstairs. “Robert, can you get Grace a t-shirt to sleep in?” Robert made his way to his room and Barbara showed me to their guest room that had a lovely plush, double bed in a Laura Ashley themed, flowered paradise room with its own en-suite. I sat on the edge of the bed and kicked my shoes off. Robert came in with my t-shirt, putting his arms around me tightly, and I tried not to cry.

“Come on.” He turned the main light out and the bed side lamp on. “Put the t-shirt on and get in.” The lights down the corridor went out as his parents retired to bed. He closed the door, kicked his shoes off, took his jeans off and laid on top of the bed. I slipped my jeans and my vest top off, putting the t-shirt on over my underwear and climbed up the bed. He tucked me in, turned the lamp off, and held me. I breathed in his scent and clung to him as the tears began to fall.

“Shh,” he soothed. “I’m here.” He rubbed my back and I closed my eyes, letting him heal me, letting him take some of my pain away.

“Grace, I’m here.” He kissed my forehead. “You can tell me anything, you know. I want to make things easier for you.” I sniffed and held him tighter; he had no idea. He had no idea what a family like mine meant, or the lack of a family, and what that does to people. How could he understand loss, pain and numbness? He had everything, Barbara and Bob were truly amazing and they loved him and each other. Robert could never truly understand fucked up families the way that I did and I had no intention of showing him.

Robert stayed with me all night, and I’ve no doubt that in the morning Barbara was furious, but she never showed it in front of me. I insisted on walking home the next day and going to work. I rang the hospital and was told mum would be in for a few more days. I would have to visit and I would have to take her some clothes, but it would be another series of awkward exchanges. She might be interested in me since she won’t have had a drink for a few hours, but more realistically she would be lost in her own world, as usual.

I finished work early to catch the bus to the hospital. Robert had texted to see how I was, but I hadn’t responded. I just couldn’t face him. I was so ashamed and didn’t want him or his family involved in this aspect of my life. I didn’t want them to meet my mother or ask me questions. I just wanted to deal with this blip and then get back to co-habiting. I didn’t want things to change or people to pry.

I had packed a bag for mum, taken it to work with me, and then sat with it on my knee on the bus to the hospital. I found her ward easily and was there at 6 pm for visiting hours. When I arrived she was sitting up in her bed talking to another woman in the bed across the ward.

“Ah … my daughter.” She smiled cheerfully as I entered. I smiled nervously as the other patient eyed me. “Grace.” She put her arms out for me and I approached her for a forced hug and kiss. She patted me as I pulled away to sit down. Her face was hugely swollen, one side purple and one eye was swollen shut. Her lip was cut on the top right and she kept licking it nervously, her eyes darting around the room. She was obviously feeling some withdrawal symptoms.

“Hi, mum,” I choked. “I’ve brought you some clothes, did they say when you’d be out?”

“No.” She shook her head. “Still a few tests, so a couple of days.”

“Well,” I sighed. “I’ve brought you some magazines because I won’t be able to come tomorrow. I’ve got work.”

“Oh.” She crossed her arms. “I see.” She stared ahead indignantly. “Your father would have been here day and night if he were here. He loved me more than life itself,” she said, her eyes glossy and her stare fixed in another time.

“Well,” I coughed, standing up. “He’s not around, is he? He hasn’t been for eleven years,” I whispered. “I’ll phone the nurse and make sure I know what’s going on. See you in a few days.”

“What? That’s it?” she spat. “You’re off? Have you seen my face? I’m a mess and my own daughter can’t stand to visit me?” I shook my head. I felt a scene coming on and I wouldn’t allow it.

I leaned into her and smiled, kissing her cheek again. “You know what mum, you’re right, I’m off. I wouldn’t want you to have to spend a moment more with me today than you do any other day, so read your magazines, enjoy the hospital food, and I’ll be here when they let you out.” She sighed and grabbed for the bag I had brought.

“Teenagers,” I heard her say as I walked away, “too busy these days.” The other woman laughed.

***

It was still light when I got home, but it was almost 8 when I turned onto our street. As I neared our house I saw Robert sat on the front step. He stood when he saw me. “Grace,” he said stepping to meet me. “I’ve texted you.”

I smiled thinly at him, walking to the front door. “Hi,” I said. He pulled me to him and kissed me on the lips.

I opened the house up and he followed me into the hallway that was still covered in blood and vomit. I hadn’t had time to clean it earlier, but luckily the floor was tiled and I would be able to clean it easily enough.

“Wow,” he said. “I’d forgotten about that.”

“I better get cleaning,” I sighed.

“I’ll help,” he said brightly.

“No, Robert, no, please just go home, you’ve seen enough.”

“Enough what?” he asked stepping towards me.

“Enough.” I motioned my eyes around the house. “Crazy, enough of this, please just go.”

“No, Grace, stop it, don’t push me away.”

“Look, I’m not, I just can’t have you here right now. I just need to be alone.”

“No.” He grabbed me to him this time. “No you don’t okay? You might be used to being alone in this fucking house, but I can’t bear to think of you here, and I can’t bear to think of what would have happened yesterday if I hadn’t been here.”

“What? The same thing,” I sighed pushing him from me. “Ambulance, hospital, the lot.”

“I mean you dealing with that and then sitting in that waiting room alone and then coming here to this house, alone. Who looks after you?”

“I don’t need looking after,” I spat.

“Everyone needs looking after Grace,” he said, pulling me to him again.

“Not me.”

“Especially you,” he whispered, and he kissed my head, and I gave in, letting him hold me, relaxing into his warmth again and breathing him in.

We scrubbed and mopped the hallway until it smelt of bleach and nothing else. Then afterwards, I took him to the back of the house behind the antique kitchen where there was an old fashioned orangery. It was a bit like a conservatory, but made out of rotting wood and glass. It spanned the back of the house. I had some cigarettes that I had hidden in there, and so we sat on the back step, smoking a cheeky fag as the sun began to set.

“So where is your dad?” Robert asked with his arm around me, my head on his shoulder.

“Dead,” I whispered. “It’s just me and her.”

“When?” he asked.

“When I was five, he and my brother Jamie died in a car crash. Mum just couldn’t cope; she never recovered. She hit the booze and that’s her family now.” I sniffed away tears that were threatening to fall. “We’re just house mates, she’s not interested in me at all, and that suits me just fine.”

“What?” Robert turned me to him. “It suits you? You deserve better than that Grace.” I put my head on his chest.

“I have no idea what that looks like.” I laughed, “I see your family and I see how it should work, but that’s weird to me.”

“I bet.” He kissed my head.

“I’ve got a sister, though,” I said wistfully. “Her name’s Diane.”

“Yeah?” he asked.

“She left when I was born. She was sixteen and just up and left, didn’t get on with dad, typical story. Well one day I’m gonna find her, I’m gonna find out where she is, knock on her door, and I’m sure she’ll understand. She’ll know what it’s been like and finally I’ll have a family.”

He pulled me to him and we turned back to look at the sunset. “Grace,” he sighed. “Don’t try and push me away because of this okay? I can deal with it. I really like you and I can’t imagine being without you, so even if you think you’d be better off alone, I can’t let that happen.”

“Robert …”

“Now come on, pack a bag, mum said no more sharing a bed, but you’re not staying here alone until your mum gets out. She said if you won’t come to us then the whole rabble is coming to this old relic to live.” He shoulder bumped me. “I added the relic bit.” I rolled my eyes, but secretly I was relieved. I didn’t want to be alone in this lofty old museum tonight and Robert made me feel better just by being there.

He came up to my room while I packed my bag and had a good look around. “I bet this house was amazing in its day.”

“Certainly was,” I sighed.

He took my bag. “Now come on, let’s get back for Big Brother and one of my dad’s famous suppers.”

“Supper?” I said as we locked the front door.

“You know,” he prompted, “Bed time snack … He makes us toast and syrup. It’s the dog’s bollocks.”

“Oh.” I laughed as he slung his arm around me and we walked home.

“You’re gonna get fat staying in a house full of boys.” He laughed. “Eight meals a day whether you like it or not!”