Widows & Orphans (26 page)

He was particularly incensed that, while he was being kept at home, Craig was taking Sue. For his part, Duncan was astonished that Ellen had allowed her to go, not least after Frances's announcement that she would be giving her a bedroom with Craig since they were both sixteen and she refused to be kept awake by creaking floorboards. With a persistence that put Jamie to shame, Sue wheedled and pleaded, screamed and insulted and threatened to cut herself, until Ellen was browbeaten into submission.

Linda too would be spending Christmas away from her daughter. Duncan's surprise at her willingness to let him have Jamie had paled beside the news that she was going to Antigua without Rose. The red eyes and puffed cheeks with which she greeted him at the door attested to the wrench.

‘Come on in,' she said, leading him through the hall. ‘Forgive the mess,' she added, although the three suitcases, pile of gift-wrapped presents and crate of disability aids were neatness itself to one accustomed to the
Mercury
reporters' room.

‘What time are you flying tomorrow?' he asked.

‘Nine thirty. But Derek's determined to take advantage of the hotel meal deal, so he wants us there by six tonight.
Meanwhile I have to finish packing, deliver those presents to my parents, shut up the house and take Rose to respite.'

‘Can't Derek help?'

‘Yes, of course. But he's chosen this morning to have his hair cut. Don't ask.'

‘Well, at least I can take Jamie off your hands. Is he ready?'

‘As much as he'll ever be. I asked if he wanted me to do his packing. He said he never wanted me to do anything for him again.'

‘No change there then!'

‘Still, I've got more important things to worry about than Sir's moods. I've…'

She had no need to finish the sentence since Duncan knew that, other than a weekend in Newcastle two years ago when she had accompanied Derek to his cousin's wedding, it would be the first time that she had ever spent more than an afternoon apart from Rose. Despite all the hazards of travelling: from being hoisted on to the plane like cargo, through the tortuous sanitary arrangements, to the curiosity and even hostility of their fellow passengers (most blatant in the woman who held up a flight for an hour after claiming that Rose was ‘an ill omen'), Linda had insisted on including her in every trip. This time, however, Derek, who by his own avowal knew better than to oppose his wife where their daughter was concerned, was adamant that she needed a complete break. Not only was the relentless strain of caring for a paralysed four-year-old taking its toll on her, but she would require every ounce of strength for the forthcoming battle with the LEA.

The first salvo had been fired a fortnight earlier when the Chief Education Officer sent them a draft copy of the revised statement of Rose's educational needs, which, despite Ellen's report, concluded that she would be best served by the greater classroom and therapeutic support available at a specialist school. They were given fifteen days to make representations, after which the LEA would review the evidence and issue a
final statement. If, as seemed likely, that upheld the original verdict, they had the right of appeal. Knowing Linda, Duncan was certain that she would not rest until she had exhausted every avenue; knowing Ellen, he was equally certain that she would support her all the way, notwithstanding her private admission that there was little hope of the tribunal's ruling against the Local Authority.

‘Come and say hello to Rose,' Linda said, ‘and I do mean “say”. She's been waiting all morning to show you her new talker.'

He followed Linda into the living room where Rose was sitting in front of her bright-red VOCA. ‘How's my favourite girl?' he asked. ‘I hear you've become quite the chatterbox.'

Rose turned towards him, with her neck thrust back and face screwed up as though a wasp were circling beneath her chin, in what Linda had assured him was an expression of pleasure.

‘You're looking very pretty this morning, Rose. Are you excited about your stay in the country?' Duncan asked, careful to choose one of the yes/no questions in which she was practised.

‘Wait for it!' Linda said.

Rose pressed a key on the VOCA, which responded with the phrase: ‘My name is Rose.' Despite the science-fiction flatness of the voice, Duncan realised that, except for nebulous vowels and hacked consonants, these were the first sounds he had ever heard her produce.

‘Hello, Rose. My name's Duncan,' he replied, eager not to betray his emotion.

‘We've transferred all the symbols from her communication book to her talker. And Derek's made her a new page specially for Christmas: tree, present, card, turkey, cracker – not that she'll ever be able to pull one. We tried it out last Sunday at my parents'. At first Mum was thrilled, but then she suggested we add another couple of symbols for “please” and “thank you”!'

‘Same old Brenda!'

‘Ask her who she went to see last week,' Linda whispered.

‘Who did you go to see last week, Rose?' Duncan asked.

With an effort that made him ashamed of his idle chatter, she pressed another key, sending the symbols gliding slowly across the screen. Even so, they moved too fast for her to control and, as she stopped at the turkey instead of Father Christmas, her back arched and her head twisted, her arms and legs stiffened, and her jaw clenched in frustration.

‘Don't worry. We all make mistakes,' Duncan said. ‘My newspaper does it the whole time.' He tried to think of an example, but the only one that sprang to mind was Rowena's report of the Council's new ‘meretricious' rather than ‘meritorious' community composting scheme, which he half suspected had been deliberate and which in any case would mean nothing to a four-year-old. ‘I remember,' he improvised. ‘Last week, we put “a doggy day” instead of “a foggy day”.'

Rose's head jerked, her eyelids fluttered and her tongue rolled in her mouth. ‘Yes, darling, it is funny,' Linda said.

Duncan was framing another question when Jamie marched in. ‘OK then, are we off?' he asked.

‘Good morning, Jamie. It's good to see you too.'

‘Yeah, whatever.'

‘Are you sure you've got everything you need?' Linda asked.

‘Like you care!'

‘I dare say he'll scrape by,' Duncan said.

‘Well then, you'd better say goodbye to your sister,' Linda said.

‘'Bye Rose,' Jamie said. ‘Have a nice time in kennels.'

‘Jamie!' Duncan said, grateful for once for the ambiguity of Rose's reactions.

‘That's a cruel thing to say.' Linda's eyes welled with tears.

‘You're the one who's cruel,' Jamie said. ‘Leaving us here while you swan off to the sun.'

‘I'm a wreck, Jamie.' Linda's voice was as raw as her eyes.
‘Don't worry; it's nothing serious. I just need to recharge my batteries.'

‘You should apologise to your mother,' Duncan said.

‘Don't worry about me,' Linda said. ‘How about saying sorry to your sister?'

Jamie's façade of indifference crumbled as he approached Rose, dropped to his knees and put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Bye-bye, Rose. Have a great Christmas. I'm sure you'll make loads of new friends.' He kissed her on the lips before walking to the door.

‘What about me?' Linda asked. ‘Don't I get one?'

‘No.'

With a commiserative shrug, Duncan moved to Linda, knowing that the light kiss he planted on her cheek was no compensation for her son's rebuff. ‘Have a wonderful holiday. And you too, Rose. Don't forget I'm bringing Jamie to see you on Boxing Day.'

He followed his son out to the car. As they drove off in an unusually tractable Rocinante, Jamie switched on the radio, destroying any chance of conversation. Arriving at the flat, he shut himself in his bedroom, not emerging until lunch: Sainsbury's sweet-and-sour chicken, the first of the ready meals that would be the staple of his stay.

‘So what would you like to do this afternoon?' Duncan asked. ‘I've looked in a certain local paper and there's not much on at the cinema. But do check in case there's something I've missed. Otherwise, at 4.30 the Local History Society is joining forces with the East Sussex Paranormal Association for a ghost walk in the castle ruins. It's billed as suitable for children of ten and over.'

‘Ten!'

‘And over. That just means it's too frightening for little kids.'

‘Sorry, Dad, but I might be scarred for life. Anyway, I've arranged to meet up with some friends.'

‘You never said.'

‘You never asked.'

‘Do I know them?'

‘Are you a paedo?'

‘What?'

‘Then why would you know them?' Jamie's tone mellowed. ‘They're just guys from school.'

‘I know this wasn't the holiday you planned,' Duncan said, trying a new approach. ‘But we're going to have fun. I want us to use this opportunity to grow closer.'

‘There you go again,' Jamie said. ‘Why must you spell it out? It makes everything harder.'

‘I feel we're drifting apart. There are great swathes of your life I know nothing about.'

‘What do you expect? I don't live with you. When I talk to Mum, it's natural. She asks about school, what I've done today, stuff like that. With you, it's like “So tell me what you've been doing since I saw you last week?” and I have to think of something special. We have to discuss things like we're in a book.'

‘Everything you do is special to me.'

‘No, it's not. That's dumb! You mean like every time I take a shit?'

‘You're deliberately misunderstanding me.'

‘No, I'm not, Dad. Honest! It'd be easier if I was.'

‘Well, you're here for the next two weeks. Let's hope we can have the kind of casual conversations you have with your mum.'

‘Will you pass me the soy sauce please?' Jamie asked, enunciating every word.

After an uneasy lunch, far from feeling hurt by Jamie's departure, Duncan was glad of a few hours to himself before what threatened to be an even more strained evening. He was in the middle of washing up, adding his light tenor to the darker tones of Leporello's Catalogue Aria on the radio, when Jamie poked his head round the kitchen door. ‘I'm off then.'

‘Be sure to be back by 6.30. We have guests.'

‘Who?'

‘It's a surprise,' Duncan said, choosing to defer the risk of an outburst.

Typical! You say you want to spend time with me, then you fill the house with strangers.'

‘Wait and see. Surely you're not going out like that?' He looked askance at Jamie's bomber jacket and jeans.

‘What should I wear? A suit and tie?'

‘A coat. There's a force 10 gale blowing outside.'

‘I haven't got a coat.'

‘What?'

‘I mean I haven't brought one.'

‘Wear mine,' Duncan said, chiding himself for not having checked earlier. ‘It'll swamp you but…'

‘You're joking, right? I'd rather get frostbite. I'd rather my fingers fell off and my toes fell off and my nose fell off and –'

‘I get the picture. Then at least wear a scarf. If you haven't brought one, take mine from the hall cupboard.' Jamie grimaced. ‘I mean it.'

Jamie went out and a moment later Duncan heard the reassuring squeak of the cupboard door.

‘Fucking hell!'

‘What's wrong?' Dropping his cloth, Duncan dashed into the hall to find Jamie holding a Francis Preston cap. ‘I thought you'd done yourself an injury.'

‘What's this? No, whose is it?'

‘It belongs to Neil.'

‘Neil Nugent?'

‘He left it here last week. I've told you he's doing his local history project on the
Mercury
. I'd far rather have done it with you, of course.'

‘But he's the next best thing?'

‘You know perfectly well it's not like that.'

‘How do you know what I know. Are you a fortune teller?'

‘Don't you mean a mind reader?'

‘Do you pick him up on every word too?'

‘Why compare yourself with him? I'm just trying to give him a helping hand. I've become close – very close – to his mother. You've met her: Rose's speech therapist.'

‘Is she teaching you new swallowing techniques too?'

‘That's disgusting, Jamie. You're not a child.'

‘That depends, doesn't it? On what you want from me at the time.'

‘I want you to understand what I feel for Ellen,' Duncan said, wounded by the charge. ‘I love her.' For all the awkwardness, it felt fitting that the first person in whom he confided should be his son.

‘So? You loved Mum, didn't you?'

‘Most definitely.'

‘And that fucked up.'

‘In the end, yes. But we had thirteen – well, ten – happy years. In any case I'm older now. We both are. Maybe not wiser.' He laughed uneasily. ‘But more experienced. So's Ellen. She's been through a lot.'

‘Big whoop!'

‘It's early days, but when you know something's right, as right as this is, then the usual rules don't apply. I want to marry her.'

‘You can't!'

‘It may look like I'm rushing things, but I promise you to me it feels more like holding back.'

‘I'm not listening.' Jamie clamped his hands to his ears like a four-year-old protesting against bedtime. Duncan wondered whether to prise them away, extending the movement into a hug, but he was afraid of feeling his son's body tense up against him. Besides, Jamie could still hear every word.

‘That's why I want you to make a special effort to get along with Neil.'

‘He'll never be my brother.'

‘No, but I hope he'll be your stepbrother.'

‘What about Craig?'