EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-TWO
Having left to drop
the children at school, Maggie decided she would do some Christmas shopping
afterwards, before going on to open the wine bar. Mike clutched a steaming mug
of instant coffee and winced at the bitterness as he took a sip. He brushed
some crumbs from the breakfast table onto the floor and sighed deeply.
He was aware how dissatisfied with life he’d been lately. There was something
churning away inside him, and he kept asking himself what life was about. Where
was it all heading and what was the point of it all? He was also self-aware
enough to inwardly scorn himself for this navel-gazing, and tried to shrug it
off, telling himself not to be a self-indulgent fool. But still the deep
frustration with life confronted him, like an unpaid bill which dropped onto
his doormat regularly.
The doorbell rang. He knew no one was expected at this time of the morning, so
he guessed it must be a parcel delivery or a cold sales call. He slid off the
stool and went out into the hall. As he walked towards the front door, he saw
the outline of the familiar figure through the mottled glass and dryness came
to his throat. He had been so wrapped up with his own problems he had neglected
to spare Andrew much time in his thoughts.
He opened the front door, and there was his son, pale and thin-faced, his
jaw-line riddled with acne and dark grey stubble where he was unable to shave
because of the spots, with unhealthy-looking bags under his eyes, which seemed
moist and paler than their usually bright blue.
‘Andrew!’ Mike threw his arms open wide and embraced him. Andrew responded
half-heartedly, possibly embarrassed by the embrace, a gesture he could never
recall having happened before.
Mike released his son and stepped back, smiling. ‘So how’ve you been?’
Andrew shrugged. ‘Oh…I’ve been…you know…like it’s all been happening. But now
I’m home.’
Mike cleared his throat. ‘Things are a bit different now, Andrew. Your mother
and I…’
‘Yes, I know. She told me all about it.’
Mike glanced at his watch. ‘I’ve got half an hour before I have to drive over
to do some haircutting at Uckfield.’
‘You’ve got your license back then?’
‘You’d better come in, Andrew, and you can have some coffee before I go.’
Andrew tilted his head, peering down the hall, and dropped his voice to a
whisper. ‘Is she at home?’
‘If you mean Maggie, no she’s not. She’s gone Christmas shopping.’
Andrew stepped inside hesitantly. ‘Oh. OK then. Shame you’ve got to dash off.
We need to talk.
As Mike led his son down the hall towards the kitchen, he felt a sinking in his
stomach, knowing he wasn’t about to like what Andrew had to say.
*
As Donald strapped Miranda into the buggy, Ted asked, ‘Why did you have to get
one with such big wheels?
Donald frowned at Ted, realised the expression might upset his little treasure,
and switched on a smile, and gazed at the toddler as he answered Ted.
‘It’s her first trip out in a buggy instead of a pram. She wants the best.
Something nice and stable does my little ba-ba.’
‘And I thought we agreed no baby talk.’
‘I know. But I can’t help it.’
You’re an old softie, Donald.’
‘Not so much of the old.’
Ted sighed as he realised he was being diverted. ‘I just think these buggies
with enormous wheels are ridiculous. Oh, we’re not proper parents unless we’ve
got the latest big wheels buggy. Ridiculous.’
‘Oh shut up, Ted. You’ve obviously got out on the wrong side this morning.’
‘I know. I’m sorry. Forget it.’
Donald straightened up from gazing at Miranda and threw Ted a concerned
expression. ‘Something’s bothering you. I can tell. You kept me awake half the
night with your shifting about. What’s wrong?’
‘I’m worried about the magistrate’s court next week.’
Donald sighed and shook his head. ‘It’s all so straightforward. She’s giving
you custody of Miranda – you won’t have any rights to the house – but it has to
be legally agreed by you both. What could be simpler than that?’
Ted frowned deeply. ‘I don’t know. I just don’t trust Marjorie. I bet she’s got
something up her sleeve. Nothing’s that simple where she’s concerned.’
Donald moved quickly behind the buggy and gripped the handle tightly. ‘Oh, come
on, Ted. This is Miranda’s first sitting-up journey. Don’t let’s spoil it for
her. Let’s show her the Christmas lights.’
*
Andrew sat opposite his father at the breakfast bar, clutching his coffee mug,
and avoiding eye contact.
After a brief silence, Mike asked, ‘What did you get up to in Dublin?’
Andrew shrugged and pouted. ‘Oh, we tried to get a band together.’
‘But you don’t play any musical instruments.’
Andrew laughed foolishly. ‘Which is why it didn’t work out.’
‘So what are your plans?’
Andrew shrugged again. ‘I thought you might be able to help me out.’
‘How d’you mean?’
‘I’m pretty skint.’
‘But you inherited thousands of pounds from your grandparents just before you
left. What’s happened to that?’
‘Sorry, Dad. I blew it. It’s all gone.’
IN EPISODE 163
There is something strange about one of Mike’s customers