Half-truths & White Lies (25 page)

Tom was the only constant at Laura's bedside. Mrs
Albury and Faye were shocked by his altered appearance.
I have no idea what passed between them as they
sat and waited for words of hope, but they remarked on
it when we saw each other briefly between visits. I found
myself the recipient of Mrs Albury's steely gaze on
several occasions. She said very little, but little needed to
be said. I wasn't sure exactly what Laura had told her
mother about what led to Tom's disappearance, but it
didn't take a genius to put two and two together. The
main concern that Mrs Albury voiced was whether
Andrea would recognize her father, but Tom had yet to
ask to see Andrea. His focus was on Laura alone.

The hospital staff took a shine to this strange figure
and decided that he qualified for a bed. It was while he
was there that he started the treatment that would set
him on the road to recovery, barely realizing that he too
was a patient.

Laura was kept heavily sedated for eight days. Each
time the poisoned blood circulated around her body
there was danger of damage to her major organs. She
received a number of blood transfusions until the
antibiotics performed their magic, her fever subsided
and she was declared clean.

When she opened her eyes and looked at Tom, she
asked simply, 'What happened to your mane?' It was as
if he had nipped out for a quick haircut rather than
been missing for several months.

Despite the fact that I was in the room, her gaze was
entirely on him. She was clearly groggy and I had no
idea what she remembered, if she knew where she was
or why she was there. She didn't ask for Derek.

'I'm sorry,' she mouthed at Tom after a while, her eyes
filling.

With his back to me, I could not see if he made a
response, but his head dropped forwards.

'Welcome back.' The nurse bustled past to check
Laura's pulse. 'You gave us quite a scare. Out of the way,
boys. I need to run some checks.' She ushered us out of
the room, pulling the curtains around the bed. We sat
on chairs in the corridor. I recognized both disbelief
and relief in Tom's expression. He rubbed the tufts of
hair on his head as if surprised not to find curls.

'She made it,' I said to him. 'You brought her round.
She's going to be all right.'

He stood up and wandered off in the direction of the
exit.

'Where are you going?' I asked him.

'Home.' He shrugged, as if I had asked a very obvious
question.

'Don't you want to wait and talk to Laura?'

'I've been talking to her non-stop for the past week.'

'What shall I tell her?'

'That's your business. You know where to find me
when you're finished.'

Satisfied that he was not leaving altogether, I let him
go. He must have been exhausted. I waited my turn,
dreading what I should say. In the end, I didn't need to
use words.

'Pete?' Laura asked, a mix of hope and regret.

I sat by her side and took both of her hands in mine.
Before I could speak, I was overwhelmed by tears and I
shook my head, unable to look her in the eyes.

It was as if I had only confirmed her own thoughts. 'I
knew, I knew. When did it happen?'

'Five days ago.'

She bit her lip. 'It was as if I could have woken up, but
I didn't want to open my eyes. I almost didn't want
to come back. He was so small. He was just too
small.'

We cried for a long time for the loss of Derek, not
knowing where to go with the conversation next.
Periodically, Laura would say, 'I didn't get to say goodbye,'
or, 'Were you all on your own?' or, 'Does Andrea
know yet?'

Eventually, she sighed, 'They said I can go home the
day after tomorrow.'

I tried to smile. 'That's good news.'

'Do you know what I said to the nurse? I said, "I have
no idea where home is any more." ' She looked away,
her face crumpling again. We both knew that, as well as
the loss of Derek – which was terrible in itself – this
was the end of the road for us.

I tried to say the words I had practised in my head
with as little emotion as possible: 'Tom needs you.'

'You're letting me off the hook.' She looked at me
with a large degree of affection diluted with a small
amount of pity.

'I'm afraid they think he's had a complete nervous
breakdown,' I explained to her. 'It will be a slow road to
recovery. Your mother wants you all to move in with
her. She thinks that Andrea is settled there now and
shouldn't be asked to move again. You're going to need
her help.'

'Oh God, she's right again, isn't she? And what about
you?'

'I'll think I'll go back to my own place tonight. It's
going to be quite crowded now that Faye's back as well.'

'Faye came home?' Her eyes filled again.

'She's been so worried about you.'

'Pete . . .' she began, but I stopped her.

'Don't say anything else. You just concentrate on
getting well. Everything else will fall into place.' I got up
and did my best to say cheerfully, 'I should go and tell
the good news to your folks. There's a little girl who will
be wanting to see her mummy.'

'I don't deserve you. I never have.'

For just one second I wanted to tell her what I had
done. What had I done? Instead, I turned and left. 'Get
some rest,' is all I could trust myself to say. I never was
any good at saying goodbye to Laura.

Understandably, I wasn't there for the full family
reunion. Faye reported that Andrea accepted Tom's
reappearance without question, but said to him what
no one else had dared say, 'You're too thin, Daddy.
You're no good for sitting on any more and I don't like
your hair.' This made Faye howl as she told the story
standing in my hallway. At the time, she said, jaws had
dropped and everyone had been speechless.

'That's my girl,' I said with some pride, noting Faye's
frown and wondering what I had done to cause offence.
I changed tack: 'Does Laura talk about Derek?'

'Not once. How could she? I don't think she ever will.
She's treating Tom like the child she's lost, if you ask me.
It's going to be very slow progress with him. We don't
know if he'll ever recover fully, let alone work again. I
don't envy her one bit.'

'Have you been sent to spy on me?' I asked as she
loitered, looking around. It was her first visit to the
house.

'Of course I have.' Her caustic tone returned instantly.
'You're a very poor host and I'm certainly not here for
the company. You haven't even invited me in.'

'You make me nervous,' I admitted.

'Have you got anything to drink?' She removed her
coat from her shoulders slowly and let it drop to the
floor, watching my look of horror. Then she pulled at
her polo neck jumper lightly and said mockingly,
'Unlucky this time.'

I apologized and showed her into the living room
where we sat awkwardly at opposite ends of the sofa,
pretending to relax, a whisky glass in front of each of us
and the open bottle on the table. I was drinking far too
much at the time, seeking solace in my work and at the
bottom of a bottle. I felt that I had suffered four losses
and the fact that those people were still alive didn't
make them any easier to bear. I finally had to admit to
myself that I had lost Laura, the love of my life, I had
lost my only son and I had lost Andrea, whom I had
known for all of her life and had been looking forward
to bringing up as my own daughter. And, finally, I had
lost Tom, who was without a doubt the best friend I
have ever had.

'Did we do the right thing?' I asked the question that
would always be on the tip of my tongue.

'We did what we did and there was nothing else we
could have done. You put a family back together. Mind
you, you owed them that. You're not going to find my
name on the petition nominating you for sainthood, if
that's what you're asking.'

'That's not what I was asking.'

'And don't forget that I've got to live with myself as
well. You dragged me into this.'

'I haven't forgotten.'

'And I hate the fact that you're the only person I can
talk to about it because I don't want to be so reliant on
you. But I do need to talk to someone. I'm not sure I can
keep it all bottled up. Do you understand what I'm
saying?'

I nodded.

'Of course you do.' I thought she was being dismissive
of me, but it seemed that she was correcting herself,
because she continued, 'For what it's worth, I think it's
a damned shame. It pains me to admit it but from what
I've seen of you and children, I have strong suspicions
that you would have made an excellent father.' Through
the long history of our acquaintance, Faye has never
ceased to shock and surprise me, but that was quite
possibly the most surprising thing she has ever said to
me. She seemed to struggle with the words as she
cleared her throat: 'I don't suppose you considered just
taking Derek and disappearing?'

'I thought about it. If only that would have worked.
But how could I have left before I knew if Laura would
pull through? And what mother would have let that
happen? She would have spent her days trying to find
us. It would always have come between Laura and Tom.
Even if Tom eventually accepted Derek, he would have
been a constant reminder.'

'What about you?'

'Me?' I shrugged, pouring myself another large
whisky. 'I will celebrate being a bachelor by buying
myself a very expensive and impractical sports car.'

She tapped her empty glass, a reminder that I was not
being a good host. When I had rectified the situation,
she clinked my glass. 'That's the first really sensible
thing you've said so far. I'll drink to that.'

'And you?'

'What about me?' She seemed defensive.

'Will you slope off back to London?'

'Have you seen the price of train fares lately? I
couldn't afford a return. No, now that I've made it back,
I'm thinking of staying and keeping an eye on things. I
thought that I'd outgrown this place and I hate the idea
of everyone knowing everyone else's business, but it still
has this magnetic pull. It's like a bad habit that you can't
give up. And there's something else. I didn't agree with
what you said when you came to see me, but after you
left I looked around the flat and realized it had always
felt temporary. I hadn't really settled there. It wasn't
home. Have you ever thought of moving away for
good?'

'Every day. Do you think it's any easier elsewhere?'

'No. It still sucks. Plus the rent's higher.'

'Then I may as well be miserable here in the comfort
of my own home.'

'I thought that you were planning to sell up.'

'I moved all the way to Newcastle and it wasn't far
enough,' I said. 'No, this is more of a mental removal
rather than a physical one.'

'If we're going to be living in the same town, I think
it's important that you know that I haven't forgiven you
yet and I probably never will.'

'I wouldn't expect you to.'

'I like to bear a grudge for a very long time. It's one of
my few pleasures in life.'

'You are perfectly entitled.'

'So would you prefer to pretend to be friends for the
sake of appearances or shall we be arch enemies?'

'My arch enemies rarely drop round and drink
copious quantities of my best whisky.'

'It is very good whisky.' She rolled it around in her
glass, as if giving the matter careful consideration. 'We'll
have to pretend to be friends then.'

I made a toast. 'To appearances.'

'For the sake of the family!'

A slow period of recovery followed with Mrs Albury at
the helm and Andrea at the heart of it. Laura's physical
recovery was swift, but she suffered the grief of losing
Derek silently and without complaint. The burden of
seeing Tom's mental and physical condition weighed
heavily on her and was a visual reminder of our affair.
She over-compensated for both of those things by
mothering him.

Although Laura did not lose her looks at the age of
thirty as she had predicted, she made great efforts not to
draw so much attention to them. You could never have
called her 'matronly', but the platinum-blonde hair that
I had assumed was natural (it had been white-blonde
when we first met) was replaced by a softer honey
colour, and the clothes that she made herself were
altogether less fitted.

It was clear that Tom would not be able to work for
some time and Laura became the breadwinner, returning
to work as a secretary in an office. Although Tom
gradually gained weight, his looks were permanently
changed. His hair never grew back entirely and it
became clear that it had been shaved in the first place
because it had started to fall out in clumps. At a time
when a shaven head was a sure sign of trouble, Tom
stood out like a sore thumb. He took to wearing a baseball
cap, which in some ways made him look younger
than his years. Most of the skills he had lost, he
relearned with Andrea. He spent his days with her,
seeing the world through her eyes and taking a great
deal of joy in her discoveries. One of my greatest
sadnesses was to learn from Faye that he had given up
his music. His guitar, which was so much a part of him,
was consigned to the loft. He very rarely sang, not even
to Andrea, but Faye reported that he had taken to
whistling. It was driving everyone mad. Like a demented
parrot, he would get stuck on one line of a tune,
forgetting what came next.

When Andrea started school, he was at a complete
loss. It was Mrs Albury who, after a brainwave, bought
an ancient 'rust bucket' for him to work on. Far from
coming between Laura and Tom, she had become a
lifeline.

'Mark my words, it'll give him the focus he needs,' she
assured Laura, who was convinced that he might be a
danger to himself.

Although it took him many months of tinkering
away, he surprised even her by how complete a restoration
job he eventually made. He sold the car for a
substantial amount of money to a passing collector who
knocked at the door and made a cash offer on the spot.
This enabled him to repay Mrs Albury and buy the next
desirable wreck from a salvage yard. Andrea assisted
him with these, the most important decisions that he
was faced with.

'I'd like to introduce you to my business consultant,
Andrea Fellows,' he told the man in charge of the yard,
who shook her hand seriously. 'She will be making the
final choice today.'

'And what are we looking for?' The man addressed his
question to Andrea.

'We need a blue one, please,' she said.

'Blue?' He nodded approval. 'I think you'll be
impressed with the selection of blue cars we have to
show you.'

Tom always considered his work tinkering with cars
as a hobby, but it became quite a lucrative one and
helped him to regain his confidence as it took him back
into the outside world. Eventually, he recognized that it
was important for him to get a full-time job, his first, as
part of the recovery process. Not wanting to overstretch
himself, he took an administrative role in an office.
Sadly, it used none of his many talents, which he
seemed content to let go to waste in return for a little
normality. He later told me that being able to provide
for his family brought him a level of contentment that
he had not previously experienced. It was not the life
that he had originally wanted, but it was a good life and
he was grateful for his lot.

While all this happened, I kept my distance. Faye was
the one who kept me updated with the family news.
Despite her return, she seemed to remain a permanent
outsider. She didn't say that she blamed me in so many
words, but I always felt that she could never be as close
to Laura after I had involved her in the deception about
Derek. She settled into a pattern of working that
allowed her to travel for months at a time. It was as
if she needed time away on a regular basis, even though
she couldn't settle anywhere else.

It was Andrea who orchestrated my return to favour.
It was one Saturday morning while I was alone reading
the papers that Tom knocked at the door with a seven-year-
old Andrea. I couldn't take my eyes off her.

'Andrea Fellows has requested the company of her
godfather to take her to the park,' Tom announced formally,
touching his hand to the peak of his cap.

'Yes! Yes!' Andrea giggled.

They were both dressed in jeans, trainers and T-shirts.
I still had my dressing gown on.

'I don't think I'm quite dressed for the occasion.
You'd better come in.'

Apparently they had been walking past and Andrea
had recognized my house.

'Can I see my old room?' she asked, running straight
up the stairs.

'I'm afraid it's an office now,' I called after her.

Tom and I were left in the hallway. There was a
moment's awkwardness.

'You look well,' I said.

He removed his baseball cap to reveal what was left of
his hair and raised his eyebrows.

'I never thought I'd end up with more hair than you,'
I remarked.

'Congratulations,' he replied, not unpleasantly. It was
a start.

'I can't believe how much Andrea's grown. She's so
tall.'

'Laura's fine.' He looked me in the eye.

'I didn't ask . . .'

'I thought you'd like to know,' he said. 'She'd never
say so to me, but she misses you. Were you ever going to
come round and see us again?'

'I thought it best . . .'

'You're supposed to be her best friend. You told her
everything would fall into place.'

'It did,' I said. 'You're a family again. And you're both
well.'

'You said everything. She thought that included you.'

'No. It could never be the same again.' I shook my
head apologetically. 'Tell her I'm sorry . . .'

'You should tell her yourself.'

Andrea bounded down the stairs, looking a little
disappointed.

'Did you ever find Mr Rabbit, Uncle Pete?' she asked.
'I think I left him here.'

'Was he yours?' I asked, knowing full well that it was
part of a box of toys that I had taken to a charity shop.
'I'm afraid he found a new home.'

'That's OK.' She took her daddy's hand and looked at
him. 'Are we going to the park now?'

'Uncle Pete has just remembered that he's busy this
morning,' Tom said, 'but he's going to come over to tea
tomorrow evening and you can play with him then.' He
looked at me. 'We'll be having Andrea's favourite. I hope
you like fish fingers.'

'Oh, I do,' I stumbled.

Andrea clapped her hands. 'With baked beans.'

Tom opened the door and turned back: 'Six o'clock
on the dot. Don't be late.'

I don't know who was more surprised to see me, Laura
or Mrs Albury. Andrea and Tom had decided to keep my
visit a secret, but had both pretended they were very
hungry and persuaded Laura to cook twice the usual
amount of food. Tom clearly found the whole thing
highly entertaining. Laura barely spoke while I babbled
away hysterically, wishing the whole thing was over. After
Andrea had gone to bed, Tom announced that we were
going for a drink. By Laura's reaction, it was clearly something
that he hadn't done for a long time.

'I said I was going for
a
drink,' he said. 'It won't kill me.'

'But . . .'

'You're very welcome to join us,' he offered. 'I'm sure
that your mother will be quite happy to stay with
Andrea.'

'No, you go,' she said reluctantly.

He kissed her cheek. 'Back in an hour.'

Once we were outside, his attitude was that of a
naughty schoolboy who had pulled a prank and got
away with it.

'Got to let her know who's boss again. "Be assertive,"
they told me. How am I doing?'

'I think you're doing very well. You certainly told me.'

'I was practising on you,' he said. 'I've spent days
building up to that. You have no idea how long it's been
since I set foot in a pub.' He inhaled the smoke and the
smell of hops as if the blend was a luxurious perfume.
'Buy me a beer,' he added. 'I forgot to ask for any pocket
money.'

It became a weekly event, repeated at first only
because I was humbled by Tom's capacity for forgiveness.
I can only think that facing me was part of his
recovery process and that it was something he needed to
do. I thought about all of those things that drew me
to Tom in the early days of our friendship – his lifestyle,
his talent, his self-belief and his ability to turn his hand
to anything. What I had forgotten was that he was
simply great company. Even without those things, he
was still Tom. I grew to admire him more than I would
have done if he had appeared on
Top of the Pops
.

Gradually, contact with Laura became easier, but she
remained deliberately distant. It was a long time before
we were comfortable in each other's company again.
Part of this, I'm sure, was for Tom's benefit. Part of it was
for her mother's benefit. And part of it was because
neither of us could allow ourselves to talk about the
thing that we most wanted to. To observers, I was Tom
Fellows's friend, but in the silences and between the
gaps in everyday conversation, Laura and I exchanged
glances and we both knew that, although everything
was different, some things remained the same.