The School Gates (9 page)

‘What’s the matter, love?’ Mrs Burrows then said kindly, in a much more natural voice.

Gordon burst into tears. Being held close to a saggy bosom had never felt so good, and for some reason it opened the floodgates of loss.

‘I miss Chris, my partner, I miss Jessica, my sister, but most of all I miss my mum!’

‘Oh, darling boy. They will all be looking down on you now.’

‘It’s only Jess who’s dead,’ wept Gordon. ‘Chris has gone to “find himself”,’ he inputted bitterly, ‘and my mum has Alzheimer’s. She was only fifty when she got it, and what with that and Jess’s premature demise, Dad couldn’t cope. He headed off to Bangkok of all places, took a Thai bride and now I get a Christmas card once a year if I’m lucky.’

‘Oh you poor love.’ Mrs Burrows held Gordon’s hand as he continued.

‘I see Mum once a month but she never recognises me and the guilt I feel at leaving her in that home causes me such pain, but I know I could never give her the care she needs.’ He stopped and took a deep breath. ‘And now I have those two precious angels to look after and I feel like I’m letting them down.’

‘Fiddlesticks are you letting them down! The photos you show me, the way you talk about them – they seem very happy and well-balanced little girls to me.’

Gordon managed a weak smile. ‘Thank you, Mrs Burrows.’ He blew his nose. ‘As you know, I work shifts as a flight attendant, and when Chris was around we managed the work/child balance – but now it’s impossible. I vowed I would never get extra help. I would hate for Jessica to think that I couldn’t cope.’

‘Gordon – like I said, there’s nothing wrong with asking for help. Get someone in to assist with the shopping and housework at least. Then, when you are at home with the girls you will have time for them solely. They will think no more or less of you for doing that. They’re only six. Too young to judge. All they know is their infinite love for you. Yes, Chris leaving is unsettling but kids adapt, Gordon. A lot of love and a bit of discipline go a long way, so don’t you worry.’

Gordon felt comforted as the wise old lady went on, ‘As for your mum, I am so sorry to hear that. Alzheimer’s is a terrible disease, but she’s still here in flesh and blood, so go and see her and give her a big cuddle soon. Whatever happens, you’re still her little boy.’

Gordon began to sob again. Mrs Burrows cradled him in her arms, offering the comfort he had needed so badly since Chris had left.

‘I’m always here too, as a voice coach or not. In fact, stop wasting your time trying to speak the blooming Queen’s English and get down to Tesco’s now!’

Chris sat up, wiped away his tears and blew his nose loudly.

‘Thanks, Mrs Burrows.’ He kissed her on the cheek.

‘Esme,’ she interrupted. ‘And think nothing of it. You’ve got my phone number. My arthritis holds me up on physical chores, but if you ever need a listening ear, come and see me anytime – and I’d love to meet those beautiful girls of yours.’

– Chapter Eight –

Alana was used to the whispering when she pulled up at the school gates. She could imagine the small-minded chatter about losing her au pair. But she would show them that she could be a good mother, as well as have a career.

Inga smiled at her ex-boss as she got out of her car. She was actually feeling quite smug that Preachy Knickers had asked her to do a couple of school runs for her; also, her evening babysitting had picked up and she was saving madly to try and get herself a deposit to rent a room somewhere.

Mr Chambers appeared at the classroom door, little human animals chattering behind him ready to be released into the wild. He saw Joan and gave her a big smile. Without making it obvious, he scratched his head and pointed to Skye. Joan raised her eyebrows and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’

Mo power-walked up the school path.

‘Well done you!’ Joan exclaimed. ‘Up for once round the park after tea?’

‘I better had,’ Mo smiled. ‘I had three Hobnobs this afternoon.’

‘Oh, Mo.’

‘Oh, nothing,’ Mo told her. ‘I’m all up for getting fit and healthy, but I don’t think I can bear all that pushing and prodding food around the plate like the joylessly thin do.’

Joan laughed out loud. ‘Well it’s nice to see you smiling anyway. Right – here they all come, clear a space.’ Skye, Kent and Clark came charging towards their mum.

‘You’d better check Rosie’s hair,’ she added in a whisper. ‘Skye’s got nits again!’ She wanted to warn her friend.

‘OK, no worries; if she’s caught them I’ll make sure she cuddles up to her father’s remaining strands before I shampoo her.’

‘Mo, that’s not very kind.’

‘The words “taste, own, of, medicine” and “his” spring to mind,’ Mo retorted. ‘Right, here’s little Miss Collins. Let’s go.’

Gordon screeched up to the school gates in his Mini. He hated being late but at least he had managed to get three loads of washing done and had a boot full of groceries. He ran up the path and straight into Inga and Joshua P.

‘Love, love, love,’ he greeted his friend in a camp fashion. ‘Inga, just the girl. I really need to talk to you.’

‘Oh, Gordon, I’m in such a rush. I’ve got to get Joshua to his guitar lesson and as Emily doesn’t trust me with the car we have to do the walking very fast.’

‘Let me just get the girls. It’ll be a squeeze but I’ll give you a lift.’

Once Joshua P was safely ensconced at his guitar lesson, Gordon and Inga stood side by side pushing the twins on the park swings. The girls squealed with delight, the higher they went.

‘So, what is it you want to talk to me about?’ Inga asked innocently.

‘How do you fancy living in a three-bedroom penthouse with one very handsome man?’

Inga laughed. ‘And let me guess – two very pretty little girls?’

‘You’re a genius,’ Gordon mocked.

‘Can’t believe it’s taken you so long,’ Inga quipped, then slowed down her pushing, much to Lily’s displeasure. ‘I could see you needed help,’ she added. ‘But I felt I had to wait for you to come to me first.’

The girls leaped off the swings and ran towards the climbing frame.

‘So, what do you think?’ Gordon asked her. ‘The girls are happy in their bunk beds so you could make the spare room your own. I don’t see you as a conventional au pair, so how about you treat it as renting a room from me, we liaise on my shifts, and as long as you are around for those, I’m flexible with what you do with any other spare time. Well, aside from helping out with a bit of shopping, cleaning and ironing and cooking the girls’ meals when I am at work.’

‘Gordon Summers, I think you were sent from heaven, that’s what I think. It’s perfect. It gives me time to have my own life too. To be honest I wanted a change, but if you can give me the freedom to do some different things then it’s perfect. Thank you.’

‘I haven’t discussed it with the girls yet but I know they adore you. I’ll talk to them over dinner. I just need to get a key cut and then if you want to, you can move in tomorrow?’

‘Sounds like a deal to me.’ Inga put her arm loosely round him as they made their way to the climbing frame.

For the first time in weeks, sleep came easy for both the young Polish girl and Gordon Summers.

Eliska pushed her nose against the train window, noticing the scenery change from fields to skyscrapers. It was Saturday lunchtime and the train was packed with Christmas shoppers and revellers.

‘Mummy, look at that big wheel!’ the little girl shrieked, catching sight of the London Eye as they approached Waterloo station. ‘Can we go on it?’

Alana with her fear of heights couldn’t think of anything worse. ‘We’ll see, darling,’ she prevaricated, and Eliska pouted. ‘I thought we should go on an open-top bus first, see all the twinkly lights and then do some present shopping.’

‘Awesome!’ Eliska was easily appeased.

They bagged seats on the top deck right at the front. It was a sunny winter’s day but they were glad of their warm scarves and woolly tights as there was a cold nip in the air.

Eliska was kept amused spotting all the landmarks they had studied in a recent project at school.

The bus brakes squeaked as they pulled up outside the Tower of London. A young couple got on with their daughter. The bus set off again.

‘Mummy?’ Eliska looked up to Alana.

‘Yes, darling?’

‘When are you going to find me a new daddy?’

Alana cringed inwardly. ‘When I’m not so busy.’

‘But you’re always busy, Mummy. I hate it that you have to work so much.’

‘Oh, Lissy darling, it won’t always be like that.’ Diversion tactics were required. ‘Quick, look at that big boat on the river.’

The day flew by in a whirlwind of bus stops, food treats and clothes shops and in no time at all they were back at Waterloo station, laden with bags.

It was whilst they were queuing for a promised doughnut for Eliska to eat on the way home that Alana saw him, in fact saw them.

She could feel herself burning from her toes to her scalp, but it was too late to hide, as Stephen was waving. She was certain that if it wasn’t for the fact that he wanted to get a proper look at Eliska, he too would have scurried in the opposite direction.

‘Hi, Alana, and this must be little Eliska?’

Alana was mute. Stephen talked for both of them.

‘This is my wife, Susan.’ Susan smiled politely as her husband introduced them. ‘This is Alana Murray and her daughter. Alana heads up PR at Langston and Smithdrake, a major client of mine.’

Alana pulled herself together, looked down at Susan in her wheelchair, smiled and shook her hand gently.

‘What beautiful red hair.’ Susan was now looking intently at Eliska.

Alana thought she was going to be sick and began to gabble.

‘Right, good to meet you, Susan. See you at the Christmas party, Stephen. Must run, our train’s about to leave.’

‘But Mum, my doughnut,’ Eliska wailed as Alana dragged her as fast as she could across the concourse.

‘I think Colin is having an affair.’ Joan let out a plume of white breath into the freezing December air as she and Mo power – walked around the park, wearing matching bobble hats with miner-type headlamps attached.

Mo screwed her face up. ‘There is more likelihood of me fitting into a size 10 dress by Christmas than Colin ever having an affair. He so obviously adores you. ’

‘Really?’ Joan questioned.

‘Really, really, really,’ Mo emphasised. ‘And anyway, why on earth do you think that?’

‘Well, he always seems to be working late and even sometimes on a Friday, and he’s never worked late on a Friday in his life. He always used to look at it as a family night.’

‘Have you spoken to him about it?’

‘He just brushes it off, saying he’s busy catching up with work.’

‘Are you still shagging?’ Mo added.

‘Not much, but that’s because he says he’s too tired. Now I’m doing this exercise I’ve got so much extra energy. I want it all the time, so it’s very frustrating.’

‘Oh Joan, if he was dipping his wick elsewhere he wouldn’t be bothered to do it with you at all, now would he?’

‘I suppose not. Or maybe he would so I don’t suspect?’

‘You’ve said it yourself; he’s not exactly Colin Farrell, is he?’

‘More like Colin Barrell!’ Joan chortled.

‘Glad you said that and not me. I’d be a fine one to talk anyway,’ Mo added as they upped the pace to warm their cold bones.

‘I reckon you’re looking better already, though Mo.’

‘Yeah, only three dress sizes to go. It doesn’t quite sound so hard as saying three stone.’

‘Well, I’m very proud of you.’ Joan patted her friend’s arm chummily and said, ‘How’s Ron behaving, by the way?’

‘I’ve found that if I buy him six per cent lager, he’s asleep after three of them so I just throw a blanket over him and leave him to sleep downstairs. I have moments of feeling sorry for him but they soon pass.’

‘Oh Mo, that’s no way to live.’

‘I know, I know – but my escape fund is not large enough to make the break yet.’

Joan sensed her friend’s anguish and changed the subject swiftly. ‘Any word from Charlie?’

Mo smiled at the thought of her son.

‘He called me last night actually. He’s hoping he may come and see us at Christmas-time. The only thing is, if he sees how Ron behaves towards me, I’m not sure what will happen and I don’t want to worry him – he’s working so hard at the moment.’

‘Bless you, Mo. Play it by ear. Ron might have stopped drinking by then.’

‘And pigs may be pulling Santa’s sleigh.’ Mo smirked. ‘Now come on, it’s too bloody cold out here, let’s go back to

yours for a cuppa and a mince pie – minus the pastry of course.’

‘How’s my bellissima blue-eyed waitress today then?’ Tony greeted Dana at the door of Rosco’s.

‘Tired actually. Tommy is having night terrors at the moment – wakes me up at least twice a night.’

‘Oh, cara mia, I shall make sure I fill you with plenty of espressos today then.’

‘I’d fill her with more than espressos if I had my way,’ Bruno commented in a low voice as Dana went to take her coat off in the back kitchen.