Lost Christmas (15 page)

After hanging up his phone, Goose increased his pace so as to catch up with Anthony and Frank. Soon all three were walking together once again.

‘Can I have a look at the book, Frank?' asked Goose.

‘What?' Frank had been caught up in his own thoughts for the last several minutes, playing everything over in his head.

‘Just quickly,' said Goose, trying to sound as casual as he could. ‘I didn't really look at it before. I'll be really careful with it.' Frank opened his mouth to deny him, but Goose didn't give him the opportunity. ‘After all, we did help you get it back.'

Frank's instinct was to say no and point out that Anthony was the one who helped him get it back. Goose hadn't really done a whole heap of anything, but that was unfair, he decided.

‘Just a very quick look though, okay? I don't want to expose it to the elements too much.'

Goose nodded and watched as Frank reached into the
inner pocket of his leather coat and drew out the small, slim volume. He held it out to Goose, who took it very carefully, holding it just by the edges.

‘Wow!' said Goose. ‘Sure doesn't feel like it's worth so much.'

‘Yeah, well, it is,' said Frank, eager to get it back in his pocket.

‘Sorry, Frank,' said Goose.

‘What d'you mean?' Frank had a puzzled look on his face. ‘Sorry for what?'

‘For this,' said Goose, and with that he spun on his heel and started running back the way they had come as fast as he could go.

‘GOOSE!' Frank bellowed. ‘NO! Come back with that!' He took off at speed, in pursuit.

Anthony was left alone. ‘That was unexpected,' he said to himself aloud before hurrying after both of them.

Goose knew exactly where he was going. He took every short cut available, squeezing through gaps in fences where Frank couldn't follow so he would have to go the long way around. Goose made sure Frank was always able to keep him in sight but never got close enough for Frank to nab him. It didn't help Frank's pursuit that the forty cigarettes he smoked on average per day were making his lungs feel like shrivelled prunes that were wholly incapable of
drawing anything resembling oxygen into them. After the first few blocks, Frank was wheezing too much to even shout after Goose.

Goose turned corner after corner, sprinting across busy roads and all the time keeping Frank a reasonable distance behind.

Frank couldn't believe what Goose was doing. Did he think this was a game? Why was Goose robbing him?

Goose turned into a road of well-kept terraced houses. He could see a red Peugeot 106 pulling up to the kerb at the far end of the street and he increased his speed.

Alice parked and looked over at Jemma, lolling listlessly in the seat next to her. Alice reached over and brushed the hair from Jemma's forehead. ‘Come on, we're home, poppet.'

‘What?' asked Jemma weakly, looking up. She spotted Goose running towards them and she knew their timing had to be just right. ‘Just give me a moment, Mum.' And she lowered her head. Alice looked on with great concern.

Goose reached Alice's car and stopped. Frank was almost on top of him. Goose's sudden stop took him by surprise and he had to twist to avoid a collision.

‘What the bloody hell are you playing at, Goose?' Frank barked.

Goose shrugged. ‘Sorry, Frank. Don't know what came
over me.' And with that he handed him the book. It was at that precise moment that Frank's brain realized where they were. He turned to look at Alice's car at the exact same moment that Alice looked up. Their eyes met and she looked thunderous.

‘What have you done?' said Frank softly to Goose.

With that, Alice was out of the car. ‘What're you doing here, Frank? You know you're supposed to call before you come over. You agreed.'

Frank put up his hands in an attempt to mollify the oncoming storm that was his estranged wife.

‘Now, Alice, I …' His mind was racing. What should he say? How should he play this? Bloody Anthony and his talk of cows, and pigs called Napoleon, and Goose snatching the book. Now Frank's head was a mess, while he had been so certain of himself just a dozen minutes ago.

‘This isn't fair, Frank,' Alice was saying. ‘Not to me, not to Jemma. You can't do this. It's intimidation.'

‘It's not intimidation, it's—'

‘What? What is it then?' asked Alice.

‘I just …'
What?
His mind was blank.

The passenger door of Alice's car opened and Jemma stepped out. Frank smiled awkwardly and his voice softened. ‘Hello, Jem, darling. You all right?'

‘No, she's not actually,' snapped Alice. ‘She's not feeling very well. I need to get her inside.'

Before Frank could express his concern or Alice could make a move, Jemma said, ‘Actually I feel fine now.'

‘What!?' asked her mother. ‘You were dying ten minutes ago.'

‘It passed,' said Jemma with a shrug.

Alice wheeled on Frank. ‘Have you put her up to this?'

‘No! I—'

‘It was me.' Everyone turned to look at Goose, who had been trying to edge subtly towards Anthony, who was loitering a short distance away. ‘I called Jem,' Goose said.

‘This isn't anything to do with you, Goose. You shouldn't have done that,' said Alice, clearly still furious but holding back because she was talking to Goose and not Frank.

‘Yes, I should,' said Goose defiantly. ‘Someone had to. Frank's got something to say to you.'

All eyes turned to Frank. He glared at Goose, his jaw rigid.

‘What is it, Frank?' asked Alice. Her tone had softened just a little, maybe in deference to Goose.

Frank considered the question. He heard Goose's words in his head and he looked down at the book in his hand. He looked up at Alice glaring at him, waiting for an answer, then back at the book. Then at Jemma, biting her lip. Then, finally, back at the book. ‘'Ere,' he said, holding it out to Alice.

Alice frowned as she looked at the proffered book but made no move to take it. ‘Wow, thanks.' The sarcasm in her voice came across loud and clear.

‘You don't understand,' said Frank. ‘It's worth … a lot of money.' He nodded as if that would prove he was telling the truth. ‘I saw it on the telly … forty grand … it's worth forty grand. Maybe more. One on the telly was a bit knackered.'

‘You what?' Alice couldn't compute what he had said. Her natural instinct was to look for the angle Frank was playing. Was it some sort of sick joke? But she knew her husband well enough to know he wasn't lying right now.

‘And it's for you,' Frank said again, moving the book closer to Alice. She took it this time, holding it as if it was made of snowflakes and in danger of vanishing from her grasp if she was too rough. ‘For Australia.' Alice looked up sharply, staring into his eyes. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Neither could anyone else. For Frank's part, he couldn't believe he'd just said what he had, but he already knew he didn't regret it. He wanted to do this. ‘To help you and Jem make a new life for yourselves … or … whatever you want.'

Alice looked at Frank, then back down to the book, then back up at Frank. Her heart was beating a little too fast and she wasn't sure if it was excitement or something else.

‘Are you okay?' she asked Frank. ‘You're not really ill or anything, are you?'

‘Nah, nothing like that,' said Frank, and then he smiled as he realized: ‘Actually I feel great.'

Alice thought some more. ‘Forty thousand? Are you sure? This isn't one of your – you know?' She meant flights of fancy. Like the time Frank decided he was going to breed chinchillas because some bloke at work had bought a couple as pets for his kids and paid fifty quid each. Turned out chinchillas make terrible pets. The bloke at work got rid of his after a month because they had spent most of the time living up the chimney; only venturing out at night to chew through the curtains, electrical cables and the sofa. By then it had been too late for Frank and he had bought ten of the little buggers.

‘No,' said Frank. ‘It's rare. Really rare.'

Jemma stepped forward and looked over her mother's shoulder. ‘You used to read that to me. I remember.'

‘Yeah,' said Frank, a happy smile spreading over his lips at the memory and the fact that Jemma still remembered. ‘Mad, innit? It was worth all that money when we were struggling for every penny.'

‘And you're just giving it to us?' asked Alice, who still couldn't believe it. ‘To go to Australia?'

‘Yeah,' said Frank with a nod. ‘Happy Christmas.'

‘But I thought you didn't want us to go,' said Alice.

‘I don't,' said Frank. ‘I'm going to miss you both like crazy, but if it's what you want then … that's what I want too. I just want you both to be happy.'

Jemma dashed forward and threw her arms around her father, hugging him tightly. Frank hugged her back and tears were starting to run down his face. Alice was trying hard not to start crying too. She reached out to touch her husband but pulled back at the last moment. The events of the last year made her cautious.

‘Can Dad come in, Mum?' Jemma turned to her mother.

Alice hesitated just for a moment. Then she nodded. ‘You want to come in?' she said to Frank. ‘I'll put the kettle on, yeah?'

‘Yeah, that'd be good,' said Frank. ‘I'll be in in a minute.'

Alice nodded and she and Jemma headed inside, examining the book.

Frank turned to Goose and Anthony. ‘I'm gonna nip in for a cuppa, like,' said Frank.

‘Yeah, we heard,' said Goose. ‘Can't believe you did that. What happened to having the upper hand and America and all that?'

‘Don't know,' said Frank, grinning. ‘It just seemed like the right thing to do. You want to come in as well?'

‘I need to get the bangle, Frank,' said Goose.

Frank nodded. Then he reached into his pocket and
pulled out a roll of cash, which he stuffed into Goose's hand.

‘'Bout a hundred and fifty there. It's all I've got on me. I sold the bangle to Noel.'

‘Noel?' Goose grimaced.

‘I know. I know,' said Frank contritely. ‘Don't let him do you. He only gave me forty.'

‘Forty?' said Goose. ‘But you gave me a hundred.'

Frank shrugged. ‘Yeah, well, you know,' he said as casually as he could manage.

The bud of a thought flowered in Goose's head.
Yeah, well, you know?
No, he didn't know. Frank had paid him more than twice the bangle's value. Why would he do that? Goose knew the rest of the stuff wasn't worth a lot. Goose thought back to all the other things he had taken to Frank over the last year. That stamp collection that seemed pretty basic but Frank had assured him that there were some real rarities in there. He'd given him fifty pounds for that. Just at the right time too. It was near Nan's birthday and he was able to buy her that silk scarf she wanted. Then there was that vase he'd nicked from the semi-detached on Highdown Road. He was sure it was a piece of tat but Frank had given him eighty quid, which was lucky because Mutt had to go to the vet for his booster shots. And, in that moment, Goose put all the pieces together: Frank had been looking out for him all this time, giving him above and beyond. Goose
had never seen it. Now he wondered how he could have missed it. Goose stared open-mouthed at Frank. All this time he had thought he was so alone, and now it turned out he never was. Goose threw himself at Frank, wrapped his arms around his waist and hugged him tightly. Frank put an avuncular hand on Goose's shoulder and smiled.

‘Well, someone's gotta look after ya.'

Goose pulled away. If he hugged Frank any longer, he'd start crying. Everything Goose could think of to say at that moment seemed wildly inadequate so he didn't say anything at all. Frank understood perfectly. He looked at Anthony and smiled.

‘And thanks. For everything. Thank you.'

‘You're welcome,' said Anthony.

‘Right, brew's waiting,' Frank said, and he turned and headed into his old home. He paused at the front door and looked back once. He smiled. Then he went inside. Anthony and Goose started to walk away.

‘So who's this Noel then?' asked Anthony.

Helen pulled down a copy of Enid Blyton's
Five on a Treasure Island
from a shelf by the window of the small, cluttered bookshop.

‘What about the Famous Five?' she said. ‘I used love these when I was a girl.'

Milly poked her head out from behind a nearby display and shrugged. ‘I don't know. What's it about?'

‘It's about these children, Julian, Dick, Ann and George (George is a girl), and a dog called Timmy, who go on adventures. Usually to do with smugglers, far as I remember.'

‘Maybe,' said Milly, and she disappeared from view again.