EPISODE ONE-HUNDRED AND THIRTY-ONE
When Donald arrived
at the Kent and Sussex A & E, Ted was sitting in the waiting
area, staring zombie-like, his face covered in bruises and traces of the
beating he’d suffered. Donald slid into
the seat next to him.
‘I’d have brought flowers,’ he said.
‘But people might talk.’
In spite of the shock he’d suffered, Ted responded with a watery smile. ‘I couldn’t care less. That’s the least of my worries.’
Donald patted his knee and summoned up a hearty brightness. ‘You don’t have any
worries any more. You’ve now got every
reason to get shot of the old cow.’
Ted shook his head in a mystified manner.
‘I don’t understand. The police
came to the hospital, asking me questions about what happened. How on earth did they know?’
‘Because I told them.’
Ted’s head swivelled around to face Donald, causing him to wince slightly from
the pain he was still feeling. Marjorie
had done a thorough job in her husband battering.
‘Why did you call the police, Donald?
What was the point of that?’
Donald grinned and tapped the side of his nose.
‘Because, my dear boy, it puts you in a strong position with regards to
our little Miranda.’
Ted frowned uncomprehendingly.
‘Don’t you see, if a custody battle ensues, this will give you grounds. A few stories about her neglect of your
daughter, and perhaps some little embellishments about other times she
physically abused you – which they’ll have to believe now they’ve got police
evidence of tonight’s events – and I
reckon you’ll be home and dry in any custody battle.’
Ted sighed deeply. ‘Yes, but what
happens for now?’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘Where am I going to go?’
Donald laughed pleasantly. ‘Home, of
course.’
Ted’s eyes wavered uncertainly. ‘Home?’
‘Yes. Your place and mine. You live with me now. Remember?
That decision was already made.’
From the row of seats in front of them, a drunken man with a bloody face and
hair matted with blood seeping from a deep gash on his head, turned round and said, ‘If you ask me: wanker
had it coming to him.’ He glared
aggressively at Donald. ‘You agree,
pal?’
Donald nodded effusively. ‘Oh,
absolutely. I’m sure the bastard
deserved it.’
He grabbed Ted’s arm and pulled him to his feet. ‘Come on, Ted. We are off home.’
‘Home!’ Ted said, in a dreamlike voice, as if he couldn’t quite believe what
was happening to him. Recent events had
swamped his otherwise safe emotional barrier, and he was feeling a wondrous
shift in the discovery of a new life available to him, like a young child
experiencing snow for the first time.
As he shuffled out of A & E, supported by Donald, he grinned hugely, and in
an intoxicated-sounding voice said, ‘We’re going home!’
*
After Daryl and Hannah had sat at the kitchen table and finished a packet of
crisps and a can of Coke each, Maggie’s father, Gordon, asked them if they
wouldn’t mind having a serious talk about ‘Mummy’ in the living room. Both children frowned, looking concerned, and
he reassured them.
‘We just want to help her. And I know we
can do it. So why don’t we go and talk
it over with Nanny in the lounge?’
Both children nodded silently, got down from the table and went dutifully into
the living room. They discovered their
grandmother was sitting on the three-seater sofa, and patted either side,
indicating that they should sit one either side of her. Once they were seated, Gordon pulled up a light easy chair and sat opposite
them. He cleared his throat before
speaking, like someone about to launch into a long speech.
‘It’s your mother...’ he began, exchanging an awkward look with his wife.
Impatiently, Daryl broke in. ‘If you
mean her drinking, yes we know.’
Gloria patted his knee. ‘Daryl, we’ve
come up with a plan to help her. Tell
them, Gordon.’
Hannah and Daryl watched their grandfather struggling with what he was about to
say. He stared at the floor, shifted uncomfortably,
and spoke in a tremulous voice when he looked at them.
‘I know it’s wrong to tell lies. But
sometimes we have to if it means helping
someone. It was Mike’s idea. Your mother went out yesterday in her
car. She was too drunk to drive and she
can’t remember where she parked it. Mike
told her she came to pick you up at school, started to drive you home and
almost crashed. You both got out of the
car and ran off.’
Hannah frowned thoughtfully. ‘Wouldn’t
she remember if she’d done that?’
Gordon shook his head gravely. ‘Unfortunately,
your mother was so drunk, everything’s hazy.
You could tell her anything and she’d have to believe it. She needs treatment. It’s not going to be easy. But she needs to feel responsible for
something terrible that might have happened.’
‘Before it does happen,’ said
Gloria. ‘We need to prevent her from
getting any worse. It’s a sickness, you
see. And we need to help her.’ She sat forward on the sofa and turned to
each of them. ‘I hope you don’t think
it’s wrong to tell lies like this. But
we’re desperate. And the only way we can
get her to seek help is if she thinks she nearly hurt her children. And I know she loves you both so much, she
wouldn’t want that to happen?’
Gloria fell silent, waiting for the enormity of what was expected of her
grandchildren to sink in. Hannah seemed
to shrink back into the upholstery, her face a mask. After a pause, Gordon cleared his throat
lightly, and said, ‘Will you do it, both of you? It might be the only way.’
Daryl stared into the distance as if he was weighing everything up. Suddenly he smacked a palm into his hand, as
if this was an adventurous challenge, something to be enjoyed rather than
endured.
‘Yeah, I will. We’ll tell her she drove
at ninety miles an hour down St. John’s Road.’
Frowning worriedly, Gordon leant forward in his chair. ‘No, Daryl, we must all stick to the same
story. It has to be believable.’
Hannah recovering from her numb feeling of shock, glared at her brother across
the sofa. ‘Yeah, you couldn’t go that
fast down St.
John’s Road, you wally!’
Daryl sneered. ‘You can go whatever
speed you like, if the car’s capable of it.’
‘I think what Hannah means, Daryl,’ said Gordon, ‘is that there’d be too much
traffic going along there during the school run. Perhaps if we say she was going too fast and
went over a red light, that might be enough.’
‘Whatever,’ said Daryl sulkily.
‘That’s settled then,’ said Gordon.
‘I know,’ said Gloria, brightly. ‘Why
don’t we go out and get some fish and chips, come back and talk about exactly
what we’re going to say?’
‘Cool,’ said Daryl. But why can’t we say
seventy miles an hour? I mean, she’s not
going to know, is she?’
IN EPISODE 132
Dave and Mary, about to sell the house, get a nasty shock.