Read Bad Mothers United Online
Authors: Kate Long
They moved him off the HDU and onto a general surgical ward, which I suppose was progress. Everyone else in the annexe was having hip replacements, into theatre one day and
tottering about the next, home within the week. Meanwhile my ex-husband’s lying there looking like death. ‘How long before he walks?’ I’d asked the consultant when I finally
managed to collar him.
‘It depends,’ he said.
‘On what?’
‘On whether he gets an infection, how he responds to physio, how well the bone grafts take, how well the artificial joints bed in. Many factors.’
Hedging their bets at every opportunity. I couldn’t get a proper tale out of anyone. But I used to watch these old gimmers hobbling gamely up and down and I thought, How’s Steve ever
going to use crutches when he’s only got one good leg and his arm’s buggered?
This morning I’d popped into the hospital early because I’d all Will’s party food to organise and his presents to wrap and the house to make decent. Madam wouldn’t be
turning up till most of the work was done. Half the night I’d lain awake going through my lists, fretting. Truth be told, I hadn’t slept right since the accident. Nevertheless, this
hour was Steve’s. I’d sit and read the paper to him and cut his nails, trim his moustache, anything he wanted.
There was a trolley coming through as I walked into the ward. I flattened myself against the wall to let it pass. Then, would you believe it, another trolley appeared coming in the opposite
direction so we had a minute of negotiating which one was going to back up and how that might be achieved in the narrow space available. I stood pinned between the nurses’ desk and a mobile
drugs unit, and turned my gaze respectfully away from the prone old man in front of me. His shrunken frame under the waffle blanket reminded me too much of Nan. Instead I squinted across to
Steve’s bed to see if there were any medics in attendance or if the curtains were drawn.
What I saw made me catch my breath. A woman – forties, big-boned, blonde, leather-jacketed – was sitting in the visitor’s chair, holding Steve’s hand. Lusanna, it had to
be. We’d exchanged a few words on the phone but I’d never met her in the flesh.
Immediately I felt my heart speed up. She was talking away and she kept smiling, that weak, fake smile you see all round hospitals, people straining to hide their awkwardness. I’d used it
myself.
Steve’s eyes were open but he didn’t seem to be saying much back. I watched Lusanna bend to pick something out of her bag, saw the slight crepiness of the skin at her cleavage.
All at once the trolley rolled past leaving me exposed and panicked. Without stopping to check if I’d been noticed, I turned and hurried back to the waiting room by the entrance, closing
the glass door behind me.
Get a grip
, I told myself.
Just go over there and say hello. This is stupid, hiding. What reason have you got to hide, anyway?
And I had no answer to that. Except for, mentally and physically, I was at rock-bottom, stressed and tired with permanently ratty hair and no make-up and some infuriating break-out of spots
– spots! Like some bloody teenager! – on my chin. So I hadn’t the energy to be bright and polite to this strange woman, whatever she was to Steve. Heck, it was taking everything I
had simply to keep up with the ordinary day-to-day trauma.
It wasn’t that I was jealous, it wasn’t some competition. Of course his girlfriend could come and visit him now he was on a public ward. I was bound to run into her sooner or later.
She could take some of the strain off me because quite frankly I was meeting myself coming back. Passing Will from pillar to post, fielding phone calls. It was hellishly time-consuming, visiting
every day. Let Lusanna run some of his errands, buy him his lip-salve and prune juice and bike mags and wet wipes.
Then suddenly, dear God, what a shock, there was her big pale face peering through the glass panel of the waiting-room door. She spotted me and grimaced. I gripped my newspaper.
She was coming in, and I would have to deal with her.
Close up I thought she too looked tired, with puffy skin under her eyes and the tell-tale signs of yesterday’s mascara. She was slightly shorter than me and wore her fair hair loose and
girlish. It didn’t suit her.
‘You know who I am,’ were her opening words.
‘Yes, I do. Nice to meet you at last. I’m sorry you couldn’t come before. It was close family only on the HDU, that’s the rule. The nurses are dead strict.’
‘’S’OK.’
‘What I’m saying is, you know, it wasn’t anything against you. You can visit whenever you want now. Give me a break. Steve’ll like that. It’ll make a change for
him. I bet he’s fed up of staring at me day after day.’
I’d expected her to go, ‘No, no, I’m sure he isn’t,’ out of politeness, but she just shuffled her feet. We stood there, eyeballing each other. Her leather jacket
creaked in the quiet of the room.
She said, ‘I’m not great with hospitals.’
‘Neither is he, if it comes to it. Mind you, the first few days he was so poorly he didn’t know where he was. They had him so drugged up he was convinced they were stripping down
motorbikes next to his bed. It’ll be better for him when he can sit up and watch TV, distract himself.’
‘I’d only been dating him a few weeks.’
‘Yes, I know that. He was very fond of you, though,’ I said, amazing myself at my own generosity.
‘Was he?’
‘Absolutely.’
‘Oh. He’s been telling me what you’ve been up to, Karen. How you never miss a visit and you always bring something to cheer him up. That you’ve washed his hair, put his
deodorant on for him. Personal stuff.’
‘Well, it had to be done. You can see that, can’t you?’
‘But you’re good at that kind of thing. I know you looked after your mum for years. He said how devoted you were.’ Her eyes kept sliding over my face, then away again.
‘Like, you know, some people are born to be carers.’
‘It’s not something you choose.’
Outside in the corridor someone was battling a coughing fit.
‘No. But the thing is, I don’t know if I – I think you have to be
a certain type of person
.’ These last five words she dragged out with a kind of angry
emphasis.
Ah, hang on, I thought. I get it now. I understand what you’re after. And no, I’m not going to help you spell it out. Let’s see if you can do that on your own, let’s see
if you have the guts to tell me that you’re out of here, that you plan to walk away from him just when he needs every friend he’s got.
‘Yes, Lusanna?’
‘Well, what it is – you know when he’s discharged? How bad’s he going to be?’
‘They’re not sure. He’ll be in a wheelchair, that’s definite; they won’t say how long for. He won’t be able to use his arm. What’s your house like? Is
it suitable for a disabled person?’
Her eyes widened in alarm. ‘It’s old. Narrow. A wheelchair wouldn’t fit through the doors.’
‘Don’t worry about that. You can get special lightweight ones.’ I deliberately made my tone bright, matter-of-fact. ‘Steve’s pretty slim, so there won’t be an
issue there. Social Services’ll provide one. Plus they’ll come and fit ramps and grab-rails for you, toilet frames. They’ll do an assessment. Or alternatively, you could move into
his place. Whatever suits you best. You work from home, don’t you, so it should be manageable.’
‘No. I can’t do it, Karen.’
‘Can’t do what?’
‘I can’t take him. I can’t be looking after him when he’s discharged. I’m sorry, I can’t.’
‘Oh, right. So where does that leave him?’
‘Could you take him on?’
‘Me, love? No. I’ve a young child to care for. It’s impossible.’
‘He could go in a home or something for a bit.’ She looked uncertain. ‘I just can’t do it.’
‘So you said.’
Something in her face hardened. ‘You’re the one. It’s you he thinks of as his wife. The whole way he goes on about you. You’re the only person he can really stand to have
around him right now. You’re the one he wants.’
I think I understood from the moment I saw him spreadeagled in the road that he’d be coming home to me. Still I fought her. I was so disgusted by her attitude. ‘Lusanna, we’re
divorced. I’ve a toddler to bring up, a job to go back to, a college course I want to apply for. Steve’s not my responsibility.’
‘Well, he’s certainly not mine!’
God, I could have smacked her for that. In fact, unconsciously I tensed my arm muscles ready, and a rush of adrenalin washed over me.
She was quicker, though. Now she’d said what she needed to, she whipped round and grabbed the door handle.
‘What are you doing? Running away?’ I said as she blundered out. I followed, furious, shouting down the corridor after her: ‘We could all run away, love.’
She jabbed at the lift button, then abandoned the idea and headed for the stairs.
‘And don’t think I’m going to tell him for you,’ I called. ‘Tell him you’ve chucked him because he’s disabled.’
She never looked back. The fire door slammed behind her, and even through its thickness I could hear her boots skittering down the steps. I imagined her hurrying through the main entrance,
across the car park, fumbling for her keys. Driving home to a silent house.
The lift pinged open; no one got out. I realised the newspaper I’d been holding was limp with sweat.
You can exit Bank Top station via a concrete slipway that leads onto the back streets of Harrop. Quicker, though, if you’re village-bound, to head in the opposite
direction and cut diagonally across the fields where Nan used to take me blackberrying. Unless it’s raining this is quite a nice walk: past the willow pond where Ginny Greenteeth the
water-witch hung out, past the golf course where we once saw a man get hit on the back by a flying ball, over the stile which one spectacular summer was covered in ladybirds, and out onto the
bypass. You can do it in ten minutes, though it used to take me and Nan about an hour by the time we’d filled our plastic tubs with fruit.
As I got down off the train I wasn’t paying much attention to anything. My mind was occupied mainly with Will and the trike I’d bought him, and how this year, at three, he’d
be unwrapping his presents with purpose and understanding. I thought of his little beaming face and how cute it would be to watch him learn to pedal. Perhaps Mum could borrow the school video
camera again and film the attempts I’d miss. She could even take it into hospital and show Dad. I must remember to ask her about it.
I was about to shimmy through the kissing gate when I became aware of someone from the slipway end of the platform shouting my name. I turned round and, unbelievably, it was Daniel, striding
towards me on his long stork legs. A shock went through me. I had to blink a couple of times.
‘What are you doing here?’ I asked when he came close enough.
‘Sorry, I know you said – I thought I’d just swing by on the off-chance.’ He grinned nervously and adjusted his glasses. Then there was this awkward hovering moment
where in the old days we’d have hugged but now we very much didn’t.
‘Is everything all right? Shit, you haven’t been sent to break some bad news, have you?’ The way my life was at the moment it wouldn’t have surprised me.
Daniel frowned. ‘I’m here to drop off a gift for Will. And – if I’m invited – to say a quick hello to the birthday boy. Is that OK?’
‘How did you know which train I’d be on?’
‘Guessed. There aren’t that many.’
‘Oh. Sorry. Yeah, of course.’
‘Look, I appreciate I’ve sprung myself on you. Say if you’d rather I disappeared.’
Daniel at Will’s party. ‘I’m not sure.’
‘Is it better if I leave?’
‘No.’
‘What, then?’
I had no reply, so he took my rucksack for me and we began to walk along the platform in the direction of the slipway.
‘I suppose I could do with a lift,’ I said.
I picked Will up from Maud’s – dread to think what she’d been letting him do because his hands were covered in sticky fluff – and brought him home to
get ready. I’d pretty much kept it simple, filled two carrier bags at Aldi with sausage rolls, crisps, mini-muffins and a ready-iced birthday cake. But I wanted to lay it out nicely. I was
using Nan’s flowery cloth and the polka-dot crockery.
At twelve Eric came round with Kenzie and helped me plate up some of the food, while I went upstairs and retrieved the trike from the bottom of Charlotte’s wardrobe. I don’t know if
you’ve ever attempted to wrap a trike in sparkly paper. I’ll be honest, I’ve tackled easier jobs. Before I went back down I took five minutes to spruce myself up, couldn’t
recall the last time I’d bothered with lipstick or eye-shadow. Then it was a run round the carpets with the vac because a couple of the mums from nursery were coming and no one judges the
state of your house the way a strange woman does.
While I hoovered, I tried to imagine where on earth I might put Steve’s bed and associated paraphernalia, where a grab-rail might work best, whether a wheelchair would fit between the
armchair and the china cabinet. I knew from Nan’s visits home how much clutter comes with disability. Would I be able to leave him on his own? Could I work
and
look after him? How
would he call for help during the night? The thought of everything I’d need to sort out nearly made my brain collapse. And how long had I got to make up my mind? Surely we were talking
months. But maybe not. They kicked people out of hospital way earlier than they ever used to.
I paused to switch off the vac, and through the kitchen doorway I could see Eric reach up to switch on the extractor fan, crouch to pull out a serving bowl, and step easily over the cat. He
looked so healthy and whole. It bloody wasn’t fair, my life. Not on any front.
Even though I was longing to see Will, I asked Daniel to drive up to the reservoir and park the car for twenty minutes. I was shaking, I don’t know why.
We sat looking out over the grey water.
He said, ‘How are things?’
I laughed flatly. ‘Pretty damn awful.’
‘Yes, they would be. What’s the latest on your dad?’
‘Waiting for his next op.’
‘My father says to tell you that the shoulder joint your dad’s having fitted is the best on the market, state of the art. How’s your mum coping?’
‘More or less holding it together.’
Daniel hooked his index fingers over the bottom rim of the steering wheel. ‘And you, Charlotte. How are you doing?’
Without you, I thought, drowning. I miss you. Seeing you now’s sent my heart into freefall. I want you to take me in your arms and tell me it’s going to be all right. Then it will
be.
I said, ’I find it hard when I go in and see him. I’ve only been allowed on the ward twice in case I upset him. Because I can’t seem to be as calm as Mum, and they say
that’s not helpful if I’m crying all over his blankets. But he’s my dad, he’s supposed to be fit and strong and look after me. I’ve never seen him weak and helpless.
It’s just wrong. You know, his knee’s so mashed they can’t even fit an artificial joint, there’s nothing to attach it to. They’ve had to put in a mesh cage and
inject ground-up donor bone. It’s just awful.’
Up till then Dan and I had avoided eye-contact, but now I turned to him, appealing.
Hold me, comfort me.
And then, miraculously, his arms were round me, and he was squeezing me and patting my back and making soothing noises. Relief just flooded through me. I wriggled across the seat so I was
closer, laid my head on his chest.
‘It will get better, Charlotte.’ His voice vibrated through his breastbone. ‘I promise.’
‘He’ll never be the same, though. I heard Mum on the phone say the surgeon couldn’t promise more than a forty-five-degree bend in his leg. He won’t get full movement
back in his arm, either. He’s wrecked two limbs out of four, basically.’
Daniel went on patting. ‘Consultants always try and cover themselves, they always err on the pessimistic. Often recovery’s much better than they dare predict. And my father says
bones continue healing for years after a major trauma, so your dad could be improving for ages after he comes home.’
‘Do you think – could I have another talk with your dad sometime? It’s just, Mum holds stuff back and there are questions I don’t like to ask her.’
‘Of course. He’d be happy to.’
We stayed as we were for another minute or so. I could hear seagulls crying faintly, and the hum of traffic passing. Sticking out from the car mat, I noticed, was a tatty leaflet left over
from the
Twenty-First Century Rocks
event. I wondered how the concert had gone in the end, whether Amelia had been satisfied. How they’d celebrated afterwards. But I wouldn’t
let my thoughts go down that route; it was pointless.
I said, ‘Look, while I’m here, there’s something else, too. I really need to tell you something.’
He tensed very slightly in my arms.
‘What it is, Dan, I’ve done a terrible thing – God, I can’t keep it in any longer. I might have started something really bad and I don’t know how to stop
it.’
Still he said nothing, but the silence sounded sympathetic.
‘Can you keep a secret?’
‘You know I can, Charlotte. And for what it’s worth, I’m sure it’s not so terrible, whatever it is you think you’ve done. You’re very fragile
now.’
‘No, it is bad. I’ve got to offload. I’ve had no one to confide in. Please.’
‘Tell me, then, if you think it’ll help.’
I pulled myself away and faced the windscreen, focusing on the rippled surface of the reservoir because I didn’t dare watch his face while I was speaking. Then I began to tell him about
Jessie.
By the time I’d finished, the car windows were steamed up, as if we were a courting couple. When I was at school we used to go a bit stupid if we saw a car parked like
that. We’d bang on the windows and bonnet, then run off. What a laugh. If anyone tried that now I’d jump out of the car and nut them.
‘Wow,’ said Daniel in the pause that followed my story.
‘Should I have given her money, do you think?’
‘Absolutely not.’
‘She was really poor.’
‘Sorry to be harsh, but that’s not your problem.’
‘I might have been able to save her.’
‘From what?’ He shook his head. ‘You don’t know the real situation. You only had her version of events and for all you know she could have been exaggerating. Perhaps
this Dex can take charge. Or she can go to someone else. There must be other people, closer people, she can appeal to. The authorities, as a last resort; Citizens Advice. In any case, it’s
her responsibility if she mixes with dodgy characters.’
‘Cash might have guaranteed she’d stay away,’ I said gloomily.
‘I think if you’d tried to buy her silence, it could well have started an unhealthy pattern of contact. Could you see her settling for a one-off payment, honestly?’
No, I couldn’t. And that was one relief, at least. In my mind I’d many times played out just handing over my purse, Jessie’s possible reactions, whether a single grand
concession like that might have straightened everything between us. It was good to hear Daniel squash that particular dream.
‘If this woman still comes after us, though, that’s my family blown apart, just when we’re least able to cope. I’ve been so fucking stupid.’
When I dared look across he was tapping the wheel, considering. ‘You may never hear from her again.’
‘But if I
do
? She is a whack job, so it’s quite likely.’
‘OK. You’ve met her, I haven’t, remember. We need to think through a strategy then.’
‘There is no strategy, unless I can rewind time. I’ve ruined everything.’
‘Don’t say that. Look, let’s think up a worst-case scenario plan. Even if you don’t use it, it’ll make you feel more in control.’
‘What kind of a plan? What can I possibly do here to make things better?’
He steepled his fingers in exactly the same way Martin sometimes does during tutorials. If I hadn’t felt so rubbish it would have made me smile. ‘Well, first, if she contacts you
directly, threaten her with the police.’
‘Would they be bothered? She said they wouldn’t.’
‘What have you got on her? Attempted blackmail, potentially; harassment; theft. I should think so.’
That last bit was certainly true. When I’d got home, amid all the chaos of Dad’s accident, I discovered Jessie had helped herself to fifty quid from the back of my purse. No idea
when that went.
‘God, she’d be livid, though.’
‘So what, if it stops her in her tracks? Actually, you could write down an account of what she did and have it ready to hand over as a statement. Do it soon, while it’s fresh and
you’re still fairly calm because it’s hard to recall detail under pressure, that’s been proven. Also – and you won’t like this but you need to try it –
rehearse what you’re going to say to your mother if she does find out you went to London.’
I covered my face with my hands. ‘No way. I can’t.’
‘You can, Charlotte. Sketch it out now. Come on! One: you were trying to help. Two: you’re sorry how it turned out. Three: you’re prepared to do whatever you can to minimise
the damage. That’s basically what you need to tell her. And then what’s the very worst your mum can do? Be cross. Well, she’s been cross with you before. She’ll get over
it. But the upside of her knowing is that, if this Jessie does decide to make waves, you’ll be able to tackle her together.’
I could see he was right. The idea was hideous to contemplate, though. I mean, yeah, we’d had our battles, Mum and me. Years’ worth, stretching as far back as I could remember.
Worst by a mile had been how she was over my pregnancy, but I’d stood my ground and in the end she’d been fine, more than fine. So I wasn’t afraid of her anger. I could cope
with another bout. That wasn’t the issue. What I couldn’t cope with was how much it would hurt her that I’d blindly interfered, hooked us up to a really nasty piece of work.
Daniel said, ‘The approach to take here is, you may not be able to change the past but you can shape how the future pans out. Yes?’
His eyebrows were raised encouragingly, his glasses glinting, his curly hair sticking out in random directions. And I thought again how much I’d missed him. Whatever had happened between
Dan and me, we had this bond. That hadn’t changed. We would patch things up between us, he would have me back. Maybe not today, but soon, when he’d had the chance to mull it over. I
just had to convince him.
‘Yes, you’re right. I can see it. I need to let the ideas percolate.’
‘It’s not going to be easy, but if the worst happens, you’ll manage. You will, you know.’
A rush of love overwhelmed me.
‘God, Daniel. You’re so calm, you think stuff through so clearly. I owe you
so
much.’
He fiddled with his glasses, then started to speak but he didn’t get the words out because next thing, I’d leaned across and fastened my lips on his. His skin was soft and warm.
Oh, Dan
. I was home, I was safe.
‘Charlotte—’ he said when I broke away.
I shushed him. Let the moment stand.
Twenty metres in front of us, waves lapped angrily at the shore. The sky was darkening, the wind was getting up.
As if on autopilot Daniel reached for the car keys, slotted them in. A couple of times he glanced across in a baffled way. Finally he swallowed and spoke.
‘Charlotte, I have to say this. I can’t take you back. I’m sorry.’
‘What? What do you mean?’
‘I mean I don’t want us to get back together.’
‘You
do
. I can tell. The way you kissed me.’
‘No.’
‘You do love me! You came specially to see me, you put your arms round me. You let me tell you personal secrets.’
‘You wanted to talk.’ His shoulders drooped. ‘Please, Charlotte. Please don’t stir everything up again. There isn’t time, anyway. We have to get to Will’s
party.’
I stared at him but his mouth was set firm.
‘So why did you come today? What was the point?’
‘To check you were OK. I’ve been worried about you. And to see Will.’
‘See Will? You must be joking.’ Anger fought with disappointment, humiliation. ‘Why should I let you see Will? How’s that going to help anyone?’
‘Because I care about—’
‘Stop it, stop it there. Don’t say you care about him, or about me, not in the same bloody breath as telling me we’re finished. You can’t have it both ways. Caring
isn’t jerking people around, making them think one thing and then doing another. If you didn’t want to raise my hopes, you should have kept away. Why didn’t you stay away? And
Will needs to get used to you not being there. It’s cruel to keep appearing and disappearing. You have to let us be. That’s part of the package. That’s what ending a
relationship means. Start the car and take me home, Daniel. I need to be with my son.’
He held himself very still while I finished, then he fired up the engine, revving it hard.
I thought the car would implode with misery before we reached the end of the road.