Strings Attached (20 page)

Eighteen

He left just before 6.00am to meet his helicopter back to Manchester at the local recreation ground.  The pilot had been paid well over the going rate to ensure his privacy, so there was minimal danger of their liaison being discovered. How long that situation would last depended on the intelligence and perceptiveness of the paparazzi. During the course of the short flight he also had to concoct a reasonable explanation for his night’s absence. Something that would pass muster with Taylor and Roger.

He had kissed
George
goodbye in the kitchen and held onto her
for
so long she thought he might not manage to let her go at all. What concerned her most of all, was that she hadn’t wanted to let go either.

Now it was almost 9.00am, she had showered and dressed and was busy rewashing all the pots and pans they had knocked onto the kitchen floor in their desperation to relieve each other of their clothes.

‘Morning! Mother’s having a bad hair day. Curling tongs blew up,’ Marisa greeted as she and Helen entered through the back door.

‘Thank you Marisa. Can’t keep anything quiet around here can I? I mean as if George is interested in my hair anyway! Most of the time it’s covered in a catering cap,’ Helen reminded as she took off her coat.

‘Your hair looks fine,’ George insisted.

‘No it doesn’t. It’s like all frizzy and fly
away, more so than usual...
’ Marisa began, pointing out sections of her mother’s hair she disapproved of.

‘Marisa, why don’t you make some coffee,’ George suggested.

‘Can I put the radio on? Don’t want any more of that hard rock nonsense on today,’ Marisa spoke.

‘Put on whatever you want,’ George said.

She smiled at Helen and handed her an envelope.

‘Here you go. There’s that bonus for you and Marisa for all the work you did on
the Hexagon
after-show parties,’ George said.

‘Oh George, are you sure? You paid us overtime and we weren’t expecting
...
’

‘Take the money, treat yourselves, buy some more driving lessons. I’m going to look at vans tomorrow. It’s about time Finger Food had something a little less cramped,’ George said, remembering her night not sleeping in the back of the van.

‘Er, am I being like totally thick here? Where’s the bread?’ Marisa asked, looking around the kitchen.

‘Oh shit! Shit! The bread! Damn it!’ George exclaimed in horror.

‘What’s happened?’ Helen asked as George dashed to the telephone.

‘I was supposed to find a new supplier, but what with Taylor Ferraro ringing up, I completely forgot about it,’ George said, picking up a telephone directory.

‘A new supplier? What happened to Simon? He’s quite hot he is,’ Marisa spoke.

‘He doesn’t want the job any
more,’ George replied.

‘Why not?’ Marisa questioned.

‘Have you made that coffee yet Marisa?’ Helen asked, trying to distract her attention.

‘Just doing it. Think you need to get some dye on your hair too Mother, there’s a few grey ones at the back,’ Marisa informed.

‘D’you think they’ll notice?’ George asked as she scrutinised the members of the Twitchers Association who had sat down to eat.

It was the afternoon and because she had forgotten Simon’s resignation as bread supplier, she had been forced to buy supermarket bread to make the event’s sandwiches.

‘They’ve just sat through an hour and a half of slides on wetland species, I could eat mouldy bread right now. Supermarket’s finest would seem positively luxurious,’ Helen responded.

‘I hate this. I hate serving up stuff I’m not
a hundred percent
confident with,’ George replied, looking at a large man who had filled his plate with sandwiches, but was yet to eat any of them.

‘It can’t be helped. The important thing is we got all the bread and you got a reasonable deal with the other bakery to start supplying us from tomorrow,’ Helen reminded.

‘Yeah, I know. I feel bad about Simon though.’

‘What happened?’

‘He wouldn’t take no for an answer,’ George explained.

‘Oh,’ Helen responded.

‘It’s probably for the best,’ George said as the large man bit into his first sandwich.

Her phone beeped. She got it out of her pocket and looked at the text.

Had a great time playing poker last night Taylor thinks i have gambling addiction Q x

George smiled to herself. He was so bad.

‘Everything OK?’ Helen asked.

‘Yeah, fine,’ George said, hiding her phone back in her pocket.

‘You know George, if there is ever anything you need to talk about, you know you can talk to me don’t you? I mean about anything that might be bothering you, you know, no matter what it is,’ Helen told her.

‘Yeah, I know, thanks. But everything’s fine at the moment, apart from the dodgy bread,’ George replied.

‘Nice sandwiches love, particularly the prawn,’ the Twitchers Association president informed as he appeared behind George and Helen.

‘Oh, thank you,’ George replied.

‘Tea anyone?’ Marisa enquired as she appeared from the kitchen with cups and saucers.

‘Hey Adam,’ George greeted that evening when she had sat down in front of
Masterchef
with a bowl of nachos.

‘Hey, you OK?’

‘Fine, how are you? All recovered from the accident?’

‘Yeah, I was fine really, only in hospital as a precaution and I’ve got a nice new Volkswagen Golf now. Not brand new, you know, but new to me. Mum and Dad paid.’

‘That’s good.’

‘So how are things with you and Mum?’ he asked randomly.

She almost choked on the nacho that was in her mouth. Where had that come from?

‘What d’you mean? We’re fine. You know what she’s like. She loves to boss me about and you know, I think I’m getting too old for that now.’

‘Dad says you don’t phone them much any
more,’ Adam continued.

‘I’m busy aren’t I? I barely have a minute to breathe most days and you know, she’s busy too and Dad - he’s - well, he’s busy watching his golf and I don’t know - growing tomato plants,’ George spoke.

‘You know about Mum and the hospital though yeah?’

His question jolted her and she had to put the bowl of nachos on the coffee table. Her mother was notorious for never being ill. She couldn’t even remember her ever having more than a cold and even then it was done and dusted in no more than a few days.

‘George? Are you still there?’

‘Yeah I’m still here. No, I don’t know about that. What is it? Arthritis of the jaw or something?’ George asked, using humour to quell her concern.

‘George, she’s got cancer. She’s having her breast removed next week.’

She couldn’t hide the sharp intake of breath that filled her lungs now and she knew it would make Adam realise she had no idea about any of it.

‘I can’t believe she hasn’t told you! What’s happening to this family? Does no one even talk to each other these days? Man!’ Adam exclaimed.

George couldn’t speak, there was a huge boulder sat in her throat that was threatening to force tears into her eyes and she couldn’t let it. She wouldn’t let it.

‘I knew she hadn’t told you, because I figured you would’ve called me to talk, or you would have said something when I came down. But I just thought we were doing the whole Fraser ‘putting on a brave face’ thing we all do,’ Adam continued.

‘How long has she known?’ George asked, forcing herself to speak.

‘She told me a week or so ago. They were looking at options, she had a biopsy and decided to have a mastectomy,’ Adam continued.

‘So it’s serious,’ George said stupidly.

She couldn’t think straight. She couldn’t take all this in, in five minutes. Adam had been given time to digest things and now she had two seconds to react properly.

‘It
’
s cancer, it’s always serious,’ Adam said.

‘Yeah, of course it is. Well, listen, I don’t want you to worry, I mean she’s as tough as undercooked braising steak isn’t she? She’s never ill. She’ll have the op and she’ll be back to normal as soon as she’s recovered. Chairing the Bingo Society, or whatever it is she does these days,’ George spoke, trying to be positive.

That’s what people did didn’t they? Bucked each other up, told each other it was a minor blip on life’s path and everything would be back to normal as soon as. They said all this regardless of whether they really believed it.

‘I don’t think it’s that clear cut but
..
.’

‘Of course it is! They deal with these sorts of things all the time nowadays don’t they? I’ve seen it on the TV, it’s straightforward, nothing out of the ordinary,’ George carried on.

‘Will you go round there and see her?’ Adam asked.

The tone of his request tugged at her. This was someone asking from the bottom of their heart. Despite her and her mother’s differences, Adam loved her and she had to remember that.

‘Of course I will,’ George replied.

‘I mean properly go round there. For more than five minutes. Stay for Sunday dinner or something,’ Adam carried on.

‘Well...
’

‘Please George, for me. I hate it when you two are fighting,’ Adam spoke.

‘I know, but
..
.’

‘Please George.’

How could she refuse?

Nineteen

‘We’re low on tomatoes and olives and that funny Italian ham stuff and feta cheese and
...
’ Marisa began as she looked through the fridge.

It was a few days after the Twitchers Association sandwiches and the new bread supplier was proving reliable and reasonably priced. The guy who delivered the bread was called Robert and he was at least sixty. George was confident he wouldn’t try to hit on her.

‘Basically everything then. I’ll check the bookings, see what we need for those and get down the cash and carry,’ George told Marisa.

George’s phone beeped and Marisa raised her eyebrows.

‘Your phone’s never gone off this much ever. It’s like going off every ten minutes,’ Marisa exclaimed.

George picked it up and looked at it.

Need 2 c u recreation ground ten minutes Q x

George deleted the message and looked up at the clock.

‘Why did you look at the clock?’ Marisa enquired.

‘To see what time it is,’ George replied, putting her coat on.

‘Are you going to the cash and carry now?’ Marisa asked as George put her phone in her coat pocket.

‘No, I er, think we’re out of milk for coffee. I’ll just pop out and get some,’ George said, going to the door and letting herself out.

‘Milk? Well there was like loads of milk this morning - George, there’s almost six pints here,’ Marisa called, taking a large carton out of the fridge.

Helen was out on a driving lesson in the brand new van, as her car was in the garage. George had no choice but to walk. It was almost ten minutes to the recreation ground and it was raining again.

Quinn had text her intermittently since his late night visit from Manchester, but her mind had been occupied with concern for her mother. Adam had text her too, most days, inquiring when she was going home for a roast dinner. She hadn’t even picked up the phone to her parents. She didn’t know how to. What did you say to someone who had disliked you intensely for so many years? And what did you say to that person now you kn
ew they had a life-
threatening condition? What did you say if that person was also your mother? She had made a promise to Adam, but she didn’t really know if she was going to be able to keep it.

She pulled the hood of her coat up over her head and hurried down the street, periodically looking at her watch.

She got to the recreation ground and stood next to the pavilion. There were a gang of teenagers on mountain bikes, trying to bunny hop over the small metal fence, there were toddlers and their mothers on the swings and there was a group of children playing football on the pitch despite the drizzle. Ordinary people going about their ordinary lives, while she waited for goodness knows what to happen in hers.

She heard the helicopter before she saw it. It appeared out of the clouds and began to slowly descend onto the football pitch. All the children were looking up in amazement at the machine coming down onto the grass. In the end, they fled further down the field to avoid getting blown over by the wind it was creating.