The School Gates (26 page)

He would also never give her the worry of knowing that one of the condoms they had so carefully used had split.

– Chapter Twenty Two –

Mo was glad that this end of term was not culminating with a boring assembly but a picnic for all the kids on the playing field. Thankfully, April had given them a beautiful sunny day for this.

Robbie was there helping Mr Chambers set out the picnic tables and he waved to Inga as she approached. She waved back but thought she must text ahead to Gordon to warn him he was here.

To be honest, she was glad that Gordon wasn’t seeing him any more. There was something about him that she just didn’t like – the way he spoke to her for one. As if she was just some sort of home help when she knew that within the Summers family she was so much more than that. In fact, she had never felt happier and had even started seeing a lovely guy her own age whom she had met at the local pub a couple of weeks ago.

Isobel Murray, wearing a huge floppy sun hat and even larger designer glasses, walked alongside Alana up the school drive. They were chatting away amicably. Mr Chambers had noticed the difference in Eliska since Alana had been off work and it pleased him greatly. He’d also noticed the change in Alana and realised she wasn’t a bad person at all. She was just a stressed working mum, and not everyone was lucky enough not to have to work fulltime and bring up children, especially in this current austere climate.

‘Who does that old bag bloody think she is – Sophia Loren?’ Robbie commented to Will Chambers.

‘Maybe I should have arranged a Glamorous Granny competition, instead of just Guess the Weight of the Cake,’ the teacher retorted, smiling.

‘I’m just popping round the back for a fag,’ Robbie stated and he walked towards Inga, saying, ‘How’s little Miss Au Pair today, then?’

‘I eez very well, thank you, Robbie.’

‘Gordon not coming up today then?’

‘Yes, he is. His flight should be landing around now, so he’s coming straight here.’

‘How is he?’

‘Yeah, he’s fine. Seems really happy at the moment. The

single life suits him, I think.’ She paused. ‘Leave him alone, Robbie. Two schoolkids is enough in that flat.’ And with that, she walked over to Dana who had just arrived, leaving a seething Robbie to walk off and have his cigarette.

Dana smiled as Inga greeted her.

‘You look tired, honey – are you OK?’

‘Fine, fine. Just lots going on at home at the moment.’ Dana thought she was going to be sick.

Inga noticed what looked like a slight bruise on her cheek but it was covered with so much make-up she chose not to say anything.

Dana walked over to one of the picnic tables and put her face to the sun. Tired? She had never been so tired or upset in her whole life. Mark had gone mad at her. He had told her that he had parked outside the café one day and seen the way Tony looked at her – and that had from then on sparked off his jealousy. When she didn’t come home and he saw her car parked outside the café last night, he had thought there was something going on.

Thank heaven for Bruno intervening or things could have been a lot worse. He had virtually dragged her to his car, shouting, and even when they got outside the house he carried on. The more she denied anything, the more he kept on saying he didn’t believe her. It was when she said the fateful words, ‘Well, if you are going to keep on accusing me of doing it, I should have bloody done it anyway,’ that Mark had lifted his hand to strike her. She didn’t know if he would have or not because she had ducked, slipped and ended up hitting her cheek on the corner of a kitchen unit. God, it had hurt.

But what hurt more was the fact that he had even raised his hand. In all their years together, Mark had never ever been violent.

She had, however, been unfaithful and was now in complete and utter turmoil. She didn’t blame the way Mark acted; she probably would have been a lot worse if it was him, but today she hated him and she wasn’t sure if they could get back to how it was. Especially with her knowing what she had done.

The sex and closeness to Tony had been amazing and the thought of waking up next to that beautiful man every day was making her now consider whether her marriage with all its material benefits was enough.

‘Mummy!’ Tommy came bounding towards her. ‘Me and Eliska slept in a tent in her conservatory last night, we ate so many sweets and Mrs Murray had to tell us off for being noisy. But it was such fun.’

She hugged him so tightly he started squirming like an irritated kitten.

‘Mummy, get off me, will you.’ He ran off onto the playing fields as she tried to stop the tears from flowing.

Alana came over and saw her face.

‘Shit, you look rough.’

‘Thanks for that. I’m OK. Flying to Majorca tonight. Two weeks of sunshine with my beautiful family.’ Dana smiled weakly.

‘So?’ Alana enquired.

‘It’s not the time or place here, Alana, but it’s not good.’

‘You can always phone or text me when you are away, OK?’

Dana nodded as the whirlwind that was Isobel Murray joined them.

‘So when do we get our food then?’ she asked loudly in her strong Scottish accent.

‘Mother, we bring our own. What do you think this cool bag is for?’

‘Oh, I thought that was just the wine, darling.’

‘Any news from Stephen?’ Dana enquired.

‘No, I haven’t seen him to talk to for weeks now. First he was working away a lot and now he’s spending Easter with Cheri, his wife’s sister. They jointly owned a property over there and he’s helping her with the legalities. I’m hoping he’ll be home during the second week of the holidays as I could really do with some sun and some fun too. And also, to bloody see where we are going, if anywhere.’

‘He sounds like such a good man, Alana – he will be straight with you, I know he will. The only thing with being with her sister is it will drag it all up again, so be ready for that.’

‘Yeah, I know. It’s not going to be an easy fix. But what is? Thank heaven for romance novels, eh? At least we get to read a happy ending now and then.’

Dana laughed. ‘Have you really got wine in there?’

‘Beautifully disguised as apple juice, yes.’

‘Perfect. Hair of the dog is required, I think.’

Emily Pritchard – Scorned wife, Head of PTA, Netball Coach and Mother of Joshua P, seven, chief swot and playground kisser – was suddenly amongst them. She was wearing the shortest summer dress, with a v neck that revealed her ample bosom to the world.

‘Hello, ladies. What a joy to be able to show a bit of flesh.’

Mo overheard and looked at Joan. ‘A bit of flesh? She might just as well have worn a bloody bikini. Look – there’s an empty table. Let’s go and set up camp.’

They spread out their food and looked to their youngsters who were all running around in the top playing-field.

‘So any word from Charlie senior then?’ Mo asked.

‘I was just going to tell you that I had one missed call from him yesterday – and that was it. I won’t call him back as agreed. But if he doesn’t happen to catch me unawares it will be the same answer: Charlie is Ron’s. How is he today, by the way?’

‘Oh Joanie, it’s terrible. It is so hard for him to eat even with the sleeve thing they have put in him. He has lost so much weight. It’s ironic really that here we are trying to get thin, and all he wants to do is get some food in him and put on weight.’

‘And how’s Rosie?’

‘You know what kids are like, she knows he’s ill but of course I haven’t told her yet just how serious it is. She sits on the bed and chats to him if he can’t get up and he reads to her every night. I tried to get hold of young Charlie last night, haven’t got a working number for him, so emailed his Hotmail account and just hope he picks it up. He has a right to know, despite how little he thinks of his father. Oh Joanie, what a mess!’

Joan rubbed her friend’s shoulder. ‘Come on, Mo, you can do this. When I used to go to church a few years ago, the vicar always used to say, “Everything will be all right, you know. It always is.” And do you know what, Mo? It will be. At the moment, I bet everything seems dark and you are on this constant treadmill, fighting life and what it’s throwing at you, but you will find peace – I know it. You bloody deserve it, girl. You are a diamond of a person.’

‘Aw, that’s the nicest thing to say. Thanks, mate.’

Gordon came scooting up the drive, waving frantically to Inga. On noticing Robbie talking to an animated Emily, he lowered his hand and slipped quietly down on a seat on the table next to Inga.

‘What’s he doing here?’

‘Helping Mr Chambers out.’

‘I could really do without talking to him, to be honest.’

‘Just sit here with me, darling. There is no love lost between us so I doubt if he’ll come over for a while anyway.’

Mr Chambers rang a bell and called all the children inside. Each class then emerged wearing Easter bonnets they had made in class that morning and sang a song to the waiting picnickers. He then lifted his megaphone, told everyone about the Guess the Weight of the Cake completion, cranked up some pop music and said, ‘Enjoy!’

‘God, he’s not in the mood today,’ Gordon quipped. ‘Mind you, after a whole term of a hundred plus kids, nor would I be.’

Inga laughed, not noticing Emily Pritchard – Scorned wife – approaching.

‘Maybe this will take the smile off your face, you marriage-breaking slut.’ And, in true slapstick style she slammed a paper plate full of trifle right into Inga’s pretty little face.

– Summer Term –

‘(24/7) – once you sign on to be a mother, that’s the only shift they offer.’

Jodi Picoult

– Chapter Twenty Three –

Joan was puffing as she changed her third bed of the day. She was just getting clean sheets out of the airing cupboard for the fourth when her mobile rang.

‘Joan?’

‘Yes?’

‘Charlie Lake here. I have a cheque here for five hundred pounds with your name on it if you’re ready to tell me if I am the father or not.’

‘Charlie, even if you had a cheque for five thousand pounds I still have nothing to say to you, and I would be grateful if you don’t even consider contacting Mo at the moment, if that is on your agenda. Ron is dying, you see, and she has enough stress without you upsetting her further.’

‘That’s awful.’

‘Yes, it is. He has cancer – it’s a terrible business.’

‘Well, I’m sorry to have bothered you. Take care, Joan. Good morning to you.’

Joan looked at her now dead handset and screwed up her face. Charlie Lake really had sounded sincere then. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad man, after all.

Mo had decided she didn’t want Ron to go to a hospice to end his days. His Marie Curie nurses had been exceptional and she took on all of his care when they were not around. Dr Anderson had been superb and had given her all the time off she needed.

She had just dropped off Rosie at school and was putting some bedsheets in the washing machine when there was a knock on the door.

‘Charlie, my darling. I can’t tell you how pleased I am to to see you.’ She burst into tears and her son hugged her tightly. His floppy fringe had now been cut into a much smarter, shorter style and he was dressed in his trademark skinny jeans and trendy T-shirt.

‘How’s he doing?’ he asked when Mo had calmed down.

She just shook her head. ‘Not good, darling, not good.’

‘I got him these.’ It was a batch of old West Ham football programmes from the seventies.

‘Oh Charlie, he’ll love those! Remember the times he used to swear at the telly when his mighty Hammers were losing?’

‘He’s not gone yet, Mum. Can I go up?’

Ron was propped up in bed watching Heir Hunters. Charlie took a deep breath and walked over to sit by the bed. He could hardly recognise his dad. The cancer had stolen his drink – induced pot belly. He was instead a small, frail, skeletal-like figure. His breathing was very laboured and his skin like parchment.

‘Hey, Dad.’ His voice wobbled slightly.

‘I thought you were never bloody coming.’ Ron attempted a smile and put his hand out to find Charlie’s. He squeezed it as hard as he was able. ‘I’m so sorry, son.’