Authors: Nick Gifford
Flesh and Blood (5 page)
6 Everything Changes
Matt spent most of the next morning in Mrs Eldridge’s conservatory, reading another second rate thriller. They went to Aunt Carol’s for lunch, as usual.
Gramps had been in bed all morning. “It’s okay,” said Carol sympathetically, when Matt had clearly looked concerned. “He’s just a bit low. A bit tired... You know how it is.”
He nodded. He remembered Gramps’ rantings from the previous evening. Gramps had wanted to tell him something. “Can I go up and see him?” he asked now.
Carol shook her head emphatically. “Like I said: he’s tired. Let him rest today. See how he is in the morning. All right, darling?”
He shrugged. It wasn’t all that important, he supposed.
~
That afternoon, his mother was called away to the telephone.
Matt was sitting outside, reading. The first he knew about it was when Tina found him.
She was smiling. He looked up at her, resenting her intrusion on his peace. He never liked it when the girl smiled, it nearly always meant something bad.
“What is it?” he grunted, when she refused to vanish in a puff of smoke as he had been hoping.
“Aunty Jill had a telephone call,” she said.
“So?”
“I think it was probably bad news. She put the phone down so hard I was sure she was going to break it. She really should know better.”
She stood there, still smiling, still refusing to vanish. Matt returned his gaze to the pages of his book, but he couldn’t concentrate while his ghoulish cousin stood over him like that.
“She was crying,” Tina said eventually. “Then she rushed out of the room. I didn’t know Aunty Jill was so unstable.”
“Why are you telling me all this?” asked Matt, although he had a pretty good idea.
Her smile grew even broader. “Because Mum brought me up to be helpful and considerate,” she said. “And because I hate you.”
He went into the house.
Carol was in the kitchen, rolling pastry. The pastry formed a near-perfect circle, as if it didn’t dare go against his aunt’s wishes.
“Where’s Mum?”
She looked up, then looked away again quickly. That wasn’t like her, at all.
“She had to go back to Bagshaw Terrace,” she said. “She’ll be back soon – perhaps you should wait.” She added this as Matt turned instantly and headed along the hall to the front door. He ignored her and went outside.
~
He found his mother in her room struggling to stuff their belongings into the bags they had brought on the train from Norwich. For a moment, his heart leapt as he thought Tina was going to get her wish and they were finally going home. Then he saw the look on his mother’s face and immediately he knew it was far worse than that.
“I’m sorry, Matt,” she said, as he stopped in the doorway. She forced the zipper closed on her bag and rubbed vigorously at her eyes. “We can’t live here with Mrs Eldridge any more. We’re going to have to stay with Aunt Carol for a few days, until we sort something else out.”
For an insane moment, Matt wondered what Tina had done now to get them kicked out of their lodgings. Then he dismissed the thought.
“What is it?” he demanded. “What’s going on?”
“It’s your father,” she said hesitantly, refusing to meet his demanding stare. “He hasn’t been paying. Mrs Eldridge won’t put us up without any money.”
“Call him, then. Ask him for the money.” He didn’t see the problem. He
refused
to see the problem.
She just looked at him. Then she reached up and swept the hair back out of her eyes. “No, Matt. It’s no good. He says he won’t pay anything until he’s made to.”
It started to sink in, at last: the meaning of her words. Confirming his darkest fears.
His parents had split up.
~
The only thing that broke through his initial sense of shock was the look of dismay on Tina’s face when Matt and his mother turned up at Aunt Carol’s house with their bags. Her mouth fell open, her eyes bulged as if they would pop out of their sockets at any moment, and she stared – how she stared!
“Come on,” said Carol, taking the bag from his mother and turning towards the stairs. “We’ll put your things in your room. It’s all ready for you. Okay?”
Matt followed the two of them up the stairs. He remembered that this had been a guest-house at one time, so there were plenty of rooms. They went up to the second floor, just as if they were still at Mrs Eldridge’s. “You can have this one,” said Carol brightly to her sister, stepping through a doorway. She looked back at Matt, and added, “The door behind you, Matthew. It’s small, I’m afraid, but I’m sure it will do for now.”
He turned and pushed at the white, panelled door before him. It opened onto a square box room, clearly used for storage: it was full of packing cases, cardboard boxes, old suitcases and bags, all stuffed full of things. Piled onto the boxes and bags were several years’ worth of assorted junk: ornamental lamps, a full length mirror, an old kettle, shoes, books, string-bound bundles of magazines, stacked dining chairs, bundled sleeping bags, a guitar without strings, what looked like a deflated paddling pool, a box marked xmas decs.
He took it all in. This was it, he realised. Everything had changed.
The junk had been cleared away from one side of the room so that a camp bed could be fitted in – the room was barely long enough to allow the bed to be fully opened out. Matt dumped his bag on the floor and leaned over to prod suspiciously at the bed. He went across to the small window. The room was at the back of the house and he found he was looking out over the garden and across to the next row of terraced houses.
He remembered sitting out there on the stone bench only the previous evening, listening to Gramps getting steadily more worked up until he had his fit, or whatever it was.
Carol’s voice drifted across the landing, like the incessant twittering of a caged bird. He walked across – four paces – and shut the door softly. He sat on the bed, and unzipped his bag. He found his books and his signed photograph of Michael Owen and arranged them along the mantelpiece of a boarded up fireplace, and then he lay back on his bed, folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling.
So this is it
.
It made his moods of the last few days seem so petty: sulking because the first couple of weeks of his summer holidays had been messed up. Everything was different now, all the certainty had been removed from his life. All the things he had taken for granted – home, friends, school, the relentless course of the next few years as he approached adulthood – had been cast into doubt.
And it
hurt
. There was a tight knot of pain buried deep in his chest, in his gut. He thought he might be sick, but he fought the feeling. He wasn’t going to let them do that to him. No tears, either.
Just the pain.
Had they actually
moved
to Bathside, he wondered? Was this to be his home, his future? Was he to have no say in it?
He tried to stop thinking, tried to ignore how much it hurt.
~
She came in to see him some time later. He didn’t know how long he had been lying there alone, staring at the ceiling, running the same thoughts round and round in his head as if somehow that would change anything.
She tapped at the door first. Then, when he said nothing, she pushed it open tentatively. “Hi,” she said, an uneasy smile breaking briefly across her face. “Comfortable?”
Sure, he was comfortable. Never better. He said nothing.
She looked around. Matt guessed she wanted to sit down so that she wasn’t looming over him like that, but there were no usable chairs and the bed was too flimsy for the two of them. She leaned on the wall, then straightened, then finally settled for squatting on her haunches with a shoulder against the wall. Getting down to the same level – as if she was talking to a toddler, or a dog, Matt thought.
“You won’t have to put up with all this for long, love,” she told him. “I’ll sort something out.”
“
What
will you sort out?” demanded Matt. “Are we going back to Norwich? What about Dad?”
She brushed at her hair with a clawed hand. “I don’t know,” she said. Then she shook her head, decisively. “No,” she corrected herself. “I do know. I’m not going back. I told Carol I’m going to find work down here, then find somewhere to live.”
“And me?” It sounded so selfish, as soon as he heard his own words. He wasn’t the only one whose life had been ripped apart. “What about me?”
“We thought it best you stay here, for the time being. Your father is travelling a lot over the next couple of weeks.” She swept her hair back again, in a sudden, jerky movement that made Matt jump. Then she went on, “You’re old enough to decide what’s best for you. You need to do what you think is right. But, Matt, I love you... I want you to stay with me.”
“You knew all along, didn’t you?” said Matt. “When we came down here – you knew you were leaving Dad. You knew you were breaking up.”
His words hurt her, he could see, and he felt a small thrill of satisfaction.
She shook her head. “I didn’t know that that was it,” she said, in an unsteady voice. “But it had been on the cards for a long time, Matt – you must have been aware. Suddenly, coming here... it made me think... And then it just happened.” She gathered herself, then continued, “I spoke to your father on the phone this afternoon and it was only then that I actually realised we’d split up. It just happened, Matt. It wasn’t planned, it wasn’t deliberate. It just happened.”
He rolled over onto his side, so that his back was to his mother. He had stared at the ceiling for long enough. Now he would stare at the wall.
~
That night, everything changed again.
Matt had never endured a more strained evening. He refused to acknowledge his mother’s presence, even though she was continually on the verge of tears. Uncle Mike glowered at everyone, making it quite clear that this arrangement wasn’t going to last for long if
he
had anything to do with it.
Matt couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t get his mind straight. He pushed his chair away from the table, aware of all the eyes turning towards him.
Away from the dining room, he felt some of the pressure lifting. He decided to go up for his book, although he knew he wouldn’t be able to concentrate.
On the first floor, he hesitated.
Gramps had been up here all day. His door was open now and Matt could see him, sitting in an armchair in his pyjamas and dressing gown, poring over one of his old photograph albums.
Matt was surprised to see his grandfather looking so calm. So normal. He approached the door and then, when Gramps looked up, he went in and sat on the edge of the bed. The room smelt of scotch – a near-empty bottle stood on top of a chest of drawers nearby.
No wonder Gramps seemed so placid, Matt thought. He’d been up here all day drinking himself senseless.
“You wanted to tell me something,” said Matt. “Yesterday, when we were in the garden. There was something you wanted to say.”
Gramps looked puzzled for a moment, his pale blue eyes glazing over. “Oh,” he said. Then he seemed to understand. “Oh yes,” he said. He waved a hand dismissively. “Later,” he continued. “You’ll understand it all later.” He smiled. He didn’t seem able to talk in more than a short sentence at a time this evening.
“I’ve written it all down.” He waved at a pile of letters on a chair at the foot of the bed. “Can’t seem to concentrate. It’s better written down. Says everything.” He gestured at the letters again. “One of them’s for you, boy. Go on: take it. You can read it later.”
Matt leaned across and picked up the stack of letters. Each was in its own envelope, with a name scrawled in shaky handwriting.
Carol
,
Jill
,
Kirsty
,
Tina
. And there, at the bottom of the pile,
Matthew
.
He took the letter and replaced the others on the chair. Gramps must have been working all day at these letters. Whatever he had to say, it must be important.
“Ever wanted to do something you’re almost too scared to do?” asked Gramps, a strange intensity in his eyes. “But it’s your only real choice?”
Matt didn’t understand. He watched his grandfather cautiously, saw that his eyes were glazed again. Too much drink, he thought.
And then he
did
start to understand: Gramps’ strange calmness, his inability to string together more than a few words at a time. The letters – there was something horribly final about those letters.
Matt looked across at the chest of drawers... the nearly empty scotch bottle. There was something else lying there, something he had seen earlier, although he had not fully appreciated its significance.
It was a small bottle, with a printed label. The kind prescriptions come in.
It was lying on its side with its cap off, and it was empty. His grandfather’s words suddenly made sense:
Ever wanted to do something you’re almost too scared to do? But it’s your only real choice?
Gramps had taken an overdose.
Matt’s eyes moved from the empty pill bottle to Gramps, then back again.
Then he leapt to his feet and dashed across the room to the landing. He had to get help, if it wasn’t already too late.
“Mum!” he called, the first time he had tried to speak to her since this afternoon. “Mum! It’s Gramps! He needs help!”
7 Waiting
Aunt Carol appeared at the foot of the stairs, her face pale – clearly alerted by the tone of Matt’s voice.
“What...?” She only had to look at him to be galvanised into action. She rushed up the stairs, footsteps thudding in rapid, staccato succession, like a boxer striking a punchbag.
“He’s taken some pills,” Matt said, as she hurried past him across the landing. “He’s taken some pills.”
Downstairs, his mother had appeared, followed by Uncle Mike. Matt looked at them, then at Carol’s retreating back. He felt helpless. He felt
responsible
.
He hurried back into Gramps’ room, as more steps sounded on the stairs.
Carol was by her father’s side. “Dad? Dad? What have you done?
Dad
?”
Gramps was staring blankly across the room, a half-smile on his face. Slowly, he turned his eyes on his daughter. “Carol?” he said, in little more than a whisper. “Don’t worry, Carol. I’ll look for your mother, I will.”
She looked up at Matt. “What’s he taken?” she asked.
Matt pointed at the chest of drawers, the evidence of Gramps’ actions.
“I came up a few minutes ago,” he said. He knew it was important to get the facts straight. He struggled to think. “He seemed okay – very calm. He’s been drinking and he must have taken those pills.”
His mother appeared in the doorway followed by Mike, Vince and the girls.
“The bottle’s empty,” Matt added. “He’s been writing letters, too.”
Carol took the pills from the chest and studied the label, then she glanced down at the letters on the chair at the foot of the bed. “Call an ambulance,” she said. She looked up, and saw everyone in the doorway. “Jill, call an ambulance,” she said. “And everyone else can just get downstairs! Mike – what are you doing, bringing the girls up here?”
Mike looked around, as if surprised that he had been followed. He put his arms around his daughters and shepherded them away. Matt’s mother was already downstairs, tapping out 999 on the telephone.
As Matt backed out of the room, he saw Carol sweep up the letters and then return to crouch before her father, hanging desperately onto his hand, as if that would make any difference.
Matt joined Vince on the landing.
Vince shook his head. “The old goat certainly knows how to liven things up, doesn’t he?” his cousin said, in a conversational tone. He turned to head down the stairs. “Fancy a drink?” he asked Matt. “There’s some cans in the fridge.”
~
They retreated to the living room where Kirsty was crying into her sister’s shoulder. Over Kirsty’s head, Tina glowered accusingly at Matt, as if it was all his fault.
Matt’s mother appeared a few seconds later. “They’re on their way,” she said. She went over to Kirsty and Tina and gave them a little hug. “He’ll be okay,” she said.
Tina glared at her, stiffening at her touch.
Just then, Vince came into the room, carrying a six pack of Heineken. He broke one away from its plastic binding and tossed it to Matt.
Matt’s mother looked at the beer, but said nothing. Vince held the remaining cans towards her, but she shook her head. Instead, he broke another one away and handed it to Mike, then sat on the sofa with what was left.
Matt opened his can, and took a long, cool drink, as his mother left the room and hurried back upstairs.
His hand started to shake and he put the can down on the coffee table.
He couldn’t get his grandfather’s glazed, contented look out of his head. Why had he taken so long to realise what had happened? He had seen the bottle and the empty pill jar as soon as he had entered the room, yet it had taken him several long minutes to understand what they meant.
He had another drink, and forced his hands to stop shaking. Delayed reaction, he supposed. Shock. It’s not every day you talk to somebody who’s in the process of killing himself.
~
The ambulance came, and the paramedics carried Gramps downstairs, strapped onto a stretcher. Carol and her sister went with him to the hospital, leaving Matt and the others to wait at home.
A short time after the ambulance had gone, Mike tried to persuade Tina and Kirsty that they should go to bed. They refused to go. “We’re hardly going to be able to sleep, are we?” said Tina, quite sensibly. “And it’s not even Kirsty’s bedtime yet.” They settled down in a corner of the living room to look at a large, colourful book about coral reefs, Tina explaining everything to her sister in great detail.
She was showing off, Matt realised: this was a chance for her to show how grown up she could be, reassuring and distracting her young sister.
Matt sat on the sofa, working his way steadily down the can of lager and leafing through a mail order catalogue. After about half an hour, he had chosen the best video, hi-fi, TV and computer, and he had just moved on to the tents, when the telephone rang.
Mike grabbed the receiver, snapped, “Yes,” and then listened for several seconds. Everyone watched him as he took the call, looking for any sign that would tell them what was happening.
As soon as he put the phone down, Kirsty said, “What’s happened, Dad? Where have they taken Gramps?”
Mike gathered his youngest daughter onto his lap. “They’ve taken him to the General Hospital,” he said. “The doctors are trying to make him better now.” He looked over Kirsty’s head at the others and added, “She’ll call again when she knows any more.”
So they sat and waited as before, playing video games, reading, watching TV. Occasionally, one of them tried to make conversation – the weather, the new road they wanted to build to the south-west of Bathside, Vince’s prospects for finding something better than the casual labouring work he had at the moment. “What are you going to do now?” Vince asked Matt, changing the subject swiftly away from the last of these topics.
“I don’t know,” said Matt. “Mum’s going to find work, and somewhere to live. I might stay with her or I might go back to Norwich to stay with Dad. I don’t know.”
Turning to her sister, Tina said, “Matthew was saying only the other day how much he liked living in Norwich. Wouldn’t it be nice if he could live with Uncle Nigel?” Kirsty looked from her sister to Matt and back and smiled uncertainly.
Then, more quietly, Tina added, “Uncle Nigel and Aunty Jill are going to get a
divorce
. They don’t like each other any more.”
“Washing up,” interrupted Mike, realising too late what his daughter was saying. “Come on, girls. I’ll wash and you two can dry. Okay?”
At that moment the telephone rang again. Matt looked at his watch with a start: it was well past eleven o’clock. They had been waiting for over two hours since Carol had first called from the hospital.
Mike answered and listened to what his wife had to say. “Okay,” he said. “See you soon.” And, “Yes, they’ll be in bed.”
He put the receiver down and Matt saw that his uncle was looking relieved. “He’s okay,” he said. “They got to him in time. He’s going to survive.”