The Good Neighbour (27 page)

‘Davey,’ he whispered.

‘I’ll call you what the fuck I like. Adam. Davey. Spazzo.’

Davey pushed his chair away from the table and started racing out of the room. Cath was horrified at herself. ‘Christ, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.’ She ran in front of him, stopping him, and put her arms round him. ‘Forgive me?’

‘Yes.’

‘You’ll be so pleased with me when you find out where we’re going.’

‘I don’t want to move.’

‘I know. But you’ll love it.’

‘America?’

‘I’m not saying, lovie.’ She leaned in closer and stroked his hair. ‘It’s a big move, all right, and we’re going to have to leave a lot of things behind. But you, me and Lola will be together, and that’s the main thing. There’s some not-nice people out there, and we have to get away from them.’ She stepped back from him, so she could see his face, then wished she hadn’t. There was that sceptical expression she’d seen before. She’d seen it the afternoon of the quiz, when he wouldn’t change his shirt. She’d seen it when she prevented him from having to suffer through a blood test at the clinic. She’d seen it on his father’s face.

‘Let’s not talk any more now. Remember, don’t tell anyone more than they need to know.’

Cath went upstairs to get into her gear, and to chivvy Lola along, who was attempting a new world record in slow dressing. Cath worried about Davey, and what she’d said to him. She didn’t know the right way to handle him anymore. Sooner they got away, the better. It was sad to be leaving Gina, but it was the right thing to do. As when she had left Andy, Cath felt frightened and energetic in equal measures. It was scary to leave safety nets behind, but also very freeing. It was too easy to get constrained by safety nets, tangled up in them.

Cath had collected all her sponsor pledges, and Minette’s too, or at least, all the ones before they fell out. She was going to have to let the last ones go, but it wasn’t going to make much difference, what, fifty or sixty quid? Duchenne Together didn’t ask people to collect money before the event, but they were out of date. Most of Cath’s pledges had come in advance via her ‘Doing it for Davey’ donations page, so what difference did it make asking cash pledgers to pay up front also? It meant the charity got the money much quicker.

Things were starting to come together. The report from the clinic arrived yesterday. Cath wanted to kiss the envelope when she saw it. ‘Davey Brooke has been provisionally diagnosed with Duchenne muscular dystrophy.’ At last. The proof that she needed. No one ever believed her. Doctors, nurses, doubters like Minette. Libby and Darren had both been seriously ill, but no one would listen to her. No one believed her, till they died. She hadn’t wanted them to die, she had wanted someone to take her seriously when she said how ill they were. And some people didn’t believe her about Davey, but they would have to, now. All that work getting people to see that there was something wrong with him had finally paid off.

Lola still wasn’t down, so Cath went now to re-read the letter. But as she took it out of the ‘Davey hospital’ folder she felt completely and unexpectedly deflated. Her earlier energy quite slipped away; she slumped down on a chair and stared at the letter without seeing it. She felt the same as she’d felt the night when Andy had come home and caused that massive row, and she hadn’t been able to keep up a brave face any more. Like then, everything all at once seemed utterly pointless.

The front at Seaford was teeming with cars, but Cath drove along till she found the row of disabled spaces. She pushed Davey through a mass of people, who were all walking around in that aimless way spectators do before a race has begun. Gina was waiting for them near the registration desk, and Cath, not normally a hugger, held her tightly.

‘You OK, Rubes?’

‘Bit nervous.’

‘You’ll be fine. This is exciting.’

‘You said it was stupid.’

‘It is, but it’s exciting too. Your leg going to be OK, after coming off the bike?’

‘My back’s hurting more than my leg.’

‘You’re a right old crock. We’re going to have to push you round the course in Davey’s chair.’

‘Gee, you know I love you, don’t you?’

Gina stepped back and looked at Cath.

‘Oh my god, you soft old cow, you’re not planning to drown yourself, are you?’

‘Only if it looks like I’ll come in last. No, look, I just thought, well, I haven’t told you how much I appreciate everything you’ve done for me. For us.’

‘God, you
are
nervous, aren’t you? You’re shaking.’

‘Just cold. Right. Better sign in.’ Cath joined the queue of competitors, and was given her coloured swimming cap and race number, eighty-seven, which she wrote on her arm and cap with a waterproof pen. She put her wetsuit on over her tri-suit, and Gina zipped her up at the back.

‘You won’t be able to get Davey’s chair onto the pebbles,’ Cath said, ‘so you might as well watch from the esplanade. It’s higher up anyway.’

‘Are the kids OK? They’re very quiet,’ Gina said, looking over at them. Lola was perched on the arm of Davey’s chair, her arm round his shoulders, and they were gazing out to sea.

‘You weren’t in the car on the way here. Lola never shut up for one second. She’s all talked out.’

‘Speaking of which, there’s that neighbour of yours, the one with the blabby mouth.’

Cath turned to see Minette and Abe walking towards them, Minette in a wetsuit. So she was going through with it, after all. Cath’s stomach felt heavy, but she forced on a smile, and said hello to Tilly, who was in Abe’s arms. She didn’t look at Minette. ‘Are you here to cheer us along, Tilly? That’s so nice.’

‘We thought you might like Abe to watch the children while we’re racing,’ Minette said.

‘Oh, there’s no need, Gina’s here.’ Minette’s tone infuriated Cath.
Actually
, she imagined Minette saying in that smug little voice of hers, we thought we’d better as you’re the sort of mother who thinks it’s fine to leave your kids on their own.

‘I haven’t seen you since, ooh, last weekend, wasn’t it?’ She needed to remind Minette of their last encounter.

‘That’s right. But everything’s OK,’ Minette said pointedly. ‘I’m just here to do my bit for the charity.’

Dozens of racers were gathering on the pebbles, and hundreds of onlookers standing around, chatting and laughing. It was a beautiful day, clear blue skies and warm sunshine. The swimmers started to make their way to the water’s edge.

Cath pulled on her cap. ‘Looks like we’re getting ready to go in.’

‘Good luck,’ Abe said. He kissed Minette.

Gina gave Cath a hug. ‘You’re mad, you know.’

Cath laughed. She bent down to kiss Davey and Lola. She could see, as she could increasingly now, his father on Davey’s face. With a last look at him, she followed the other swimmers across the stones, keeping her distance from Minette. The crowd were in party mood. Several people she didn’t know slapped her on the back, and called out, ‘Good luck, eighty-seven.’ Snatches of conversation followed her as she passed:

‘… all look the same in the wetsuits …’

‘… which one’s dad? …’

‘… didn’t remember the sun cream …’

‘… lovely day they’ve got for it …’

‘… we can get sausage and chips …’

‘… going to run away again.’

The last one was a child’s voice and she stopped, whirled round, but she couldn’t see who’d said it. She was too far from the esplanade for it to have been Davey, anyway. Come on, Cathykins, focus. At the edge of the sea she joined the mass of seal-like people in black wetsuits, the odd crazy person wearing just a swimsuit or trunks. Now she really had lost Minette. They were herded into a penned-in area to acclimatise to the water, while the race organisers told them a load of health and safety stuff that no one listened to. The gun cracked for them to start and Cath was in the water, churning it up, in the first wave of swimmers. Reach, arm plunge in, face in the water, breathe, other arm comes over, face, breathe, keep moving, breathe, try to avoid getting hit by the arms and legs flailing around her. After a few minutes the course began to thin out, and she sensed that she was roughly in the middle, which was fine. She wasn’t aiming for any particular time. Her stroke settled into a decent rhythm and she was able to turn her mind to Minette. Cath had not expected her to turn up today; she had assumed that Minette would keep well away. She’d gambled that Minette wouldn’t want to jeopardise her relationship with Abe, nor risk ruining Liam’s marriage, but that’s all it was – a gamble. A calculated risk, based on what she knew about Minette.

If only Cath hadn’t come off her bike. Because of that, Minette had stayed over, seen Davey, jumped to conclusions, and Cath’s carefully planned moves had all been forced too early. And in a short while she was going to have to get back on that damn bike. She mistimed a stroke, choked on a mouthful of sea and trod water while she coughed. One of the rescue boats immediately made its way over to her, and a bearded man in the boat called out to ask if she needed help. He looked outdoorsy, at ease with the water, his skin tanned and weather-beaten. As he came closer, Cath could see the creases at the edge of his eyes, the silver flecks in his hair. She managed to gasp that she was fine, and he waved and rowed away. Oddly, she felt disappointed, and had to fight an urge to call him back. There was something about his face that made her want to open up, talk it all out, tell him all her fears.

She looked ahead to the furthest swimmers, who seemed a long way off. The ones at the front had already turned and were making their way back towards the beach. Cath started swimming again, slowly, aware that she felt exhausted, worn out with the effort of keeping everything going. Keeping the show on the road. She remembered Minette saying sea swimming was very different from swimming in the pool, and Cath had put it down to Little Miss Cautious doing everything by the rulebook, but right now it didn’t seem so stupid. Her stroke, so reliable in the pool, didn’t seem to be moving her forward in the way she would expect. Two or three older swimmers passed her easily, and she went even slower, her arms leaden, her legs thrashing out of sync. It was the same give-it-up-can’t-go-on tiredness she’d felt earlier today, the same as when Andy came home unexpectedly and asked why Esmie was drinking hot chocolate.

Darren had died the night before the row with Andy, died like little Libby, sweet stubborn Libby with her Pippi Longstocking plaits. Cath was immediately suspended because of Darren, would almost certainly be struck off if she had stayed around for the disciplinary. There might even be criminal proceedings. Negligent at best, the consultant had said. He didn’t say what it would be at its worst. She hadn’t told Andy, though he’d know by now of course, if he didn’t before, with letters arriving at the house. Being a nurse was such a big part of what Andy liked about her.

That night, he’d asked her over and over what the hell, why, why why, and she had no answer for him. She had no answer for any of it, really. Not Esmie, not Adam, not Libby, not Darren. She went to bed after their fight thinking she would just talk to Andy calmly in the morning, explain everything, ask him to accept and forgive her, and start again. She could try and explain to him about the wiry feeling, the way it sometimes seemed that she would explode from the inside, her blood vessels shattering like ice, if she didn’t get rid of that feeling somehow. The weight she had carried round for so long, since her early days of nursing, since Libby’s death, seemed to partially lift. That night she didn’t wake up once, and her dreams were pleasantly unmemorable. She woke feeling refreshed, her energy back. She woke knowing that she couldn’t talk to Andy, wouldn’t be able to explain, couldn’t bear to stay after being suspended from work, that Andy was all tied up with the mess and that, in fact, life with the children would be considerably easier on her own.

If only she could just call back that bearded man on the boat, look into his kind face, and say, I’ve had enough, I want to stop now. Can I come aboard?

Cath reached the buoy marking the halfway point and, with a tremendous effort of will, set her sights on getting back to the beach. She was near the back, but her stroke was smoother now, a little faster. A swimmer was a short distance ahead of her and she determined that she would overtake them. Come on, Cathykins, you can do it.

It was Gina she felt bad about. It would be amazing if Gee would come with them. Maybe she would, in the future, when things went tits-up with Ryan, as they would eventually. But Gina hadn’t moved around like Cath. She’d always lived in the same town, got her life there, her family, her drippy toyboy, her friends, her beauty business. Till a few years ago she’d had her lovely mum too.

Cath knew Gina could manage without her. But Cath didn’t know if she could manage without Gina. Still, she was going to have to, at least until Gina decided she was ready to be a bit more adventurous. Cath didn’t know if the salt water on her lips was tears or the sea.

There were only a few metres to go now, and Cath pulled ahead of the swimmer in front just as they reached the marker for the finish. The people noting down times called out congratulations to them both. The swimmer pulled off her cap, and Cath saw that she was a grey-haired woman in her sixties. Ah well. You take your victories where you find them. The woman said, ‘Well done, you made a big last effort there,’ and Cath smiled, too tired to speak. She stepped stiffly onto the beach, retrieved her beach shoes, and made her way up to where Gina and the children were waiting.

‘You did brilliantly,’ Gina cried. ‘Was it hard?’ She handed over a bottle of water, and Cath drank half of it down in one go.

‘Well done, Mummy!’ said Lola, clinging onto Cath’s leg.

Cath started to struggle out of her wetsuit. Davey said, ‘Lots of people came out before you.’

‘Minette already come by, has she?’ Cath asked Gina.

‘Yeah, a while ago. She said to say good luck when we saw you. Her boyfriend’s taken the baby for a walk or something.’

‘Did she talk to you?’

‘No, she was only here a minute. She chatted to Davey.’

‘I was thinking about your mum while I was swimming, Gee.’