In My Sister's Shoes (30 page)

‘Unbecoming?’ ventured Dad.

‘Fucked up,’ said Derek.

‘Eloquently put,’ said Dad.

‘It was neither fucked up nor unbecoming. It was heartbreak. OK? I am heart broken, in case anyone gives a shit, and I drowned my sorrows in wine. Big fucking deal.’ I stormed out of the house, slamming doors as I went.

Thankfully I wasn’t stopped by the police and breath alysed on the way to Fiona’s because I have no doubt I was still drunk. When I got there I drank several more cups of strong coffee and ate some toast. I told Fiona the date had gone well and I was a bit hung-over. I didn’t want her worrying about my fiasco before she went in for radiation.

She went off to the hospital, and after I’d splashed my face with cold water, I put the boys into the car and we headed off to the zoo.

The forty minutes it took us to get there were torture. The boys were hyper at the prospect of seeing the animals in their ‘natural’ habitat. The truth is that the animals in Dublin zoo are a bit like human beings in a Wendy house. There’s no room and they look squas hed and miserable. Chimpanzees shuffle around on small patches of grass with a token tree in the middle for them to climb – it’s not exactly re-creating the jungle. The polar bears roll in and out of a paddling pool that barely covers their arses, never mind affords them a few laps. Kenya need not worry that people would be travelling to Dublin to go on safari anytime soon.

‘How many hours does a lion sleep a day?’ Jack asked.

‘Uhm, ten?’ I answered, narrowly avoiding crashing into the car in front of me. My spatial awareness when hung-over was not good.

‘No, they sleep for twenty hours and go hunting at night,’ said Jack.

‘Penguins are birds but they can’t fly,’ said Bobby, not to be outdone on the information front. ‘Guess how many types of penguin there are?’ he asked me.

I was finding it difficult enough to drive in a straight line. Being distracted by questions about animals was turning the boys into an endangered species. I wanted to get to the zoo alive so I fobbed him off.

‘I don’t know. Ask Jack.’

‘No, I want you to say.’

‘I don’t know, Bobby.’

‘Seventeen,’ shouted Jack.

‘How do you know?’ asked Bobby.

‘Dad told me.’

‘Well, he told me that giraffes are the tallest animals in the whole world.’

‘I know. He told me too,’ said Jack.

‘Did he tell you where the kangaroo keeps her baby?’

‘No,’ said Jack, sounding annoyed.

‘Ha! He told
me
.’

‘Where?’

‘In a purse in the front of her tummy.’

‘You made that up,’ said Jack.

‘Did not.’

‘Did.’

‘Did not,’ said Bobby, and hit his brother.

Jack kicked him and a fight ensued. I thought my head was going to explode. ‘Stop fighting,’ I said, as I swung the car into the car park.

They continued to bicker, as I took them out of the car and all the way into the zoo, until I blew up. ‘
Enough!
’I shouted. ‘If you don’t stop fighting we’re going home. Kate has a sore head and she can’t listen to anymore of this. Do you want to go home?’

They shook their heads.

‘OK, be good, then.’

‘Can we have ice-cream now?’ Bobby asked.

‘No. I’ll get you some later if you behave.’

‘Can we go and see the snakes first?’ asked Jack.

‘I want to see the penguins,’ whined Bobby.

I could see it was going to be a long day. Why, oh, why did I have to drink so much?

*

We went from animal to animal and they bombarded me with questions, which I tried to answer by reading the information sheets, but it was endless. Their thirst for knowledge was boundless and exhausting. I reached breaking point on the nineteenth question, about why zebr as had stripes and horses didn’t, and why people rode horses but didn’t ride zebras, and decided we’d go for an early lunch. At least while they were eating they couldn’t ask any questions.

As it was warm we sat outside. They gobbled their chicken nuggets and chips – thrilled to be allowed forbidden food. And for ten whole minutes I wasn’t having to be David Attenborough. After lunch we went to get ice-cream.

‘What would you like?’

‘A cone with the flake in it,’ said Bobby.

‘I want a Loop the Loop,’ said Jack.

‘No Loop the Loops,’ the ice-cream man said.

‘OK, two cones, then,’ I said.

‘No, I want a Loop the Loop,’ whinged Jack.

‘They don’t have any. Have a nice cone.’

‘I don’t want a smelly cone. I hate cones.’

‘What else have you got?’ I asked the ice-cream man.

‘Soleros, Magnums and Cornettos.’

‘No, no, no!’ said Jack, stamping his foot. ‘I hate them. I want a Loop the Loop.’

‘They don’t have any bloody Loop the Loops, so just get something else. I’ve no patience for whingeing today.’

‘You’re mean and grumpy.’

‘Well, you’re a pain in the neck. Now, decide what you want or else I’m getting you nothing.’

‘
Nothing!
’ he shrieked.

I sighed and turned back to the vendor. ‘One cone, please.’

I paid the man and turned to hand Bobby his cone. ‘Where’s Jack?’

‘He ran away,’ said Bobby.

‘Where did he go?’ I asked, looking around, expecting to see Jack sulking some where.

Bobby pointed. ‘Over there.’

We went to look for him and then I heard a loud scream. My heart stopped.

35

‘
Jack!
’ I yelled, as I sprinted in the direction of the noise. I could hear him sobbing.

A small crowd had gathered round him. I pushed my way through it and saw his little body lying on the ground, blood streaming down the side of his head. A lady was trying to soothe him, but when he saw me he pushed her away and reached up to me.

‘
Kaaaaaate
, uh, uh, uh,
Kaaaaaaate
!’ he sobbed, as I picked him up and wrapped my arms around him.

‘Oh, Jack, I’m sorry, honey. I’m so sorry,’ I said.

‘He came charging around the corner, tripped and banged his head off the bench, poor mite,’ said the lady, who had tried to calm him down.

‘Looks bad,’ said a man with a beard, standing to my left. ‘Needs stitches.’

‘All head wounds have to go to hospital,’ said the security guard, coming up behind me. ‘I’ve called an ambulance.’

‘Can’t take your eye off them for a second,’ said another lady, patting my back as I began to sob almost as much as Jack.

How could I have been so cruel? Shouting at a five-year-old because I was hung-over and had been dumped the night before. I was a wretched human being.

‘I’m sorry, Jack, please forgive me,’ I said, hugging him tighter. He snuggled into my shoulder and whimpered with pain.

I felt a tug on my leg. It was Bobby. He was crying too. ‘Why is Jack sad?’ he asked.

‘He’s OK. He just bumped his head and it’s sore,’ I said, trying to lean down and comfort him, but with Jack in my arms I had to make do with patting his head.

‘He’s bleeding pretty heavily,’ said the beardy man.

I could have done without the voice of doom. I was tempted to tell him to sod off and mind his own business, but decided I’d done enough shouting for one day. ‘Does it hurt?’ I asked Jack.

He nodded, face streaked with blood and tears. I felt physicallyill. This was all my fault. Would he have a bad scar? I tried to make out how deep the cut was, but it was hard to tell: when I tried to push Jack’s hair back to look, he squealed.

‘Sorry, pet,’ I said, kissing his cheek. ‘We’re going to take you to the doctor to make you better.’

Within minutes the ambulance arrived and Bobby and I climbed into the back while the two cheery ambulance men – George and Simon – helped Jack in after a preliminary examination.

‘It doesn’t look serious, but you can’t be too careful with head injuries, especially with kids,’ said George.

‘Needs a couple of stitches, all right,’ said Simon, as I choked back a sob.

We were all securely strapped in before Simon drove off. Bobby was in seventh heaven. A ride in a real ambulance. He asked them to put on the ‘nee-naw’ noise, which they did briefly to entertain him.

Jack, meanwhile, held my hand tightly and nuzzled into me. His face was deathly pale and he looked so small and vulnerable in his Shrek T-shirt and shorts. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to fall apart and throw myself at his feet to beg his forgiveness.

When we got to the hospital and it was established that I wasn’t his mother, they suggested I call a parent. I didn’t want to ring Fiona because it was her first day of radiation so I phoned Mark. I was crying so much that it took him a while to figure out what I was saying. Eventually he got the message and said he was on the way.

Jack was examined straight away and when it was established that the injury was not serious, we were asked to wait in A and E until a doctor became available to put in some stitches.

Jack sat on my knee never letting go of my hand, while Bobby, high as a kite from his real-life ambulance ride, ran around in circles singing songs from
Shrek
to the other poor sods waiting to be seen.

‘Are you OK, Jack?’ I asked him, for the hundredth time. ‘Would you like a drink?’

He shook his head. ‘No, thank you,’ he whispered. Then, resting his head on my shoulder, he said, ‘Auntie Kate?’

‘Yes, honey?’

‘I’m sorry for being bold and shouting cos the man didn’t have any Loop the Loops.’

‘Oh, Jack, you have nothing to be sorry for. You’re my little angel. I promise you that when we get out of here I’ll buy you ten of them. I was mean to give out to you. I’m so sorry. Your dad’s on the way here to see you.’

Jack’s face lit up. ‘Is Mummy coming too?’

‘No, she has to have her new medicine today, so we’ll see her when we get home. I know you wish she was with you now, but you can tell her all about it later and she can kiss you better.’

‘Will you kiss it better?’ he asked.

I bent down and kissed his face.

‘I love you, Auntie Kate,’ he said, and fell asleep.

*

Twenty minutes later, Mark rushed through the doors. I waved to him and he charged over to see Jack, who woke up. When he saw his dad, he reached out to him. Mark lifted him carefully from my arms and examined his head. ‘I think you’ll survive,’ he said, smiling at his son. Jack leant into his father and closed his eyes.

‘Dad!’ said Bobby, who had just finished singing ‘Livin’ La Vida Loca’ from
Shrek 2
for a drunk with a bandaged head, who had dutifully clapped and slurred along.

‘Ssssh, Jack’s resting,’ said Mark, sitting Bobby up beside him. ‘We have to be very quiet now.’

‘I’m bored,’ said Bobby.

‘Let’s go and find a coffee-machine and get Dad a drink,’ I said, taking his hand, glad to do something useful.

We wandered around, looking for coffee.

‘Is Jack going to be OK?’ Bobby asked.

‘Yes, he is, although he may have a little scar,’ I said, voice quavering.

‘Then why are you crying?’

I bent down and hugged him. ‘Because I love you both very much and it makes me sad when you’re sick or have a sore head.’

Bobby stared at me. ‘Girls are weird,’ he said.

We came back with coffee, and Mark told us that Jack was next in line to be seen. Bobby wandered off to entertain the other patients and I told Mark what had happened. I didn’t lie about being a narky cow and shouting at Jack – I told him everything. ‘… and so, you see, it’s all my fault. I’m not fit to look after your kids,’ I said, dissolving again. ‘I’m such a loser and I feel so guilty because it was my stupid hangover making me impatient and horrible. How could I have shouted at him like that? Poor Jack.’

‘You’re not a loser.’

‘Yes, I am. You were right. I’m selfish and useless. What if he’d fallen badly and broken his neck? He could have died in my care, and it’s because I was feeling sorry for myself about my stupid non-relationship with Sam. I’d die if anything happened to the twins – I’d never forgive myself,’ I said, overcome at the thought.

I knew then just how much I loved them. They were so sweet and innocent, and although they’d drive a saint to drink at times, they’d got under my skin and into my bones. I loved every part of them and would have laid down my life for them. I stroked Jack’s cheek. ‘I really love them, you know.’

‘I can see that,’ said Mark. ‘Look, Kate, children fall over all the time. Jack’ll be fine tomorrow. These things happen, don’t blame yourself. And, for the record, I don’t think you’re selfish any more. You’ve been a great help to Fiona and the boys. You’ve changed a lot. You’ve grown up.’

‘Really?’ I was shocked. All Mark had done since I moved back was bark at me. It felt strange to be having a conversation with him where we weren’t shouting abuse at each other.

‘You’ve so much energy with them. Taking them out to the park and the zoo, playing football with them. It’s been nice for the boys to have you around, with Fiona being so ill. I’m better at education and learning, but the boys need exercise too.’

‘I’ve enjoyed it,’ I admitted. ‘I’ve loved spending time with them and not just being a vague aunt they see twice a year. They’re fantastic kids and, let’s face it, they’re probably the closest I’ll ever get to having kids of my own. You’re lucky to have them.’ I stopped dead and went puce. Shit! What was I saying?

Mark looked at me and shook his head. He checked to make sure Jack was asleep, then said, ‘It’s all right. I know Fiona told you about the affair.’

I didn’t know what to say. What’s the protocol when your brother-in-law admits his children aren’t his because your sister slept with someone else? I opted for a sympathetic nod. After all, I wasn’t going to start slagging off Fiona for being unfaithful and, to be honest, if I’d been married to Mark I’d have been shagging everything that moved.

‘It was a really difficult time, but I decided to be the bigger man and I’m glad I did. The boys are my pride and joy.’

‘It’s a wonderful thing to have done and you’re their dad, as far as they or anyone else is concerned.’