EPISODE ONE HUNDRED AND SIXTY-FIVE
Mike felt his face
reddening with the effort as he tried to slide the screwdriver under the metal
window frame.
‘I don’t think it’s going to work, Dad,’ said Andrew despondently.
Mike gritted his teeth angrily. ‘I’ll get us in somehow, if it kills me.’
He was balanced precariously on the green wheelie bin which he had tipped onto
its side, to give him more elevation.
‘Haven’t you got Mum’s mobile number?’
‘Yeah, and it’s always on voice mail. If I leave a message she never replies.
Total waste of time.’
‘So what happens if we can’t get in?’
‘I’ll have to smash the window.’
Andrew frowned as he looked up at his father. ‘Isn’t that – like – breaking and
entering?’
Mike chuckled humourlessly. ‘There’s no law says you can’t break into your own
home.’
‘I know, but if Mum’s changed the locks…’ Andrew began.
‘She had no right to do that,’ Mike cut in. ‘As I explained earlier on, Andy,
I’m still the owner of this house. My mortgage payment is still going through
on Direct Debit, even though I’m not living here.’
Suddenly angered by what he saw as injustice, Mike held his hand out towards
Andrew. ‘I’ve done frigging about. Give me the hammer.’
Excited by the thoughts of some positive action, Andrew grabbed a large claw
hammer from his father’s toolbox and handed it over. Mike gave him the
screwdriver, positioned the hammer over the window, instinctively narrowed his
eyes in case shards of glass shot outwards, and hit the window as hard as he
could.
The sound of the glass shattering was like a whip cracking, breaking the
suburban silence of the afternoon.
Andrew grinned up at his father admiringly. ‘There’ll be one hell of a mess on
the living room floor. What are you going to do about the broken window?’
As Mike tapped small jagged sheets of glass from the bottom of the window,
clearing a space for him to raise the shutter safely, the sound of the back
gate being flung open distracted him. He turned his head to see Claire,
tight-lipped and angry, moving slowly towards the patio. But her anger faded
when she saw her son, and for a moment she looked relieved.
‘Andrew,’ she said. ‘You’ve come home.’
*
Miranda was in a newly-purchased play-pen, surrounded by baby toys of every
description. She was now able to sit up, which Donald had become extremely
excited about, much to Ted’s bemusement, seeing Donald’s surrogate parenthood
as strangely confusing.
‘I’ve told you,’ Donald explained. ‘I come from a large family and I had a
happy childhood.’
As Donald watched Miranda examining and biting a large, red plastic ring, he
smiled paternally, and then transferred his gaze towards Ted.
‘You’re not bored, are you, Ted?’
‘Well, they don’t really do much at this age, do they?’
Donald pointed a finger accusingly at his friend. ‘Fine father you are. Poor little
mite. What did she do to deserve a father like you?’
Ted stared at his feet and cleared his throat before speaking. ‘Oh, I do love
her. You know I do.’
‘No, I don’t,’ Donald said, irritation creeping into his voice. ‘Unless you
show someone you love them, how will they ever know?’
Ted shrugged helplessly. ‘I do try my best.’
Distracted by Miranda’s contented gurgling sound, Donald smiled. ‘I know you
do, Ted. I suppose we can’t all be the same. You know: I’ve been seriously
thinking about Miranda and her mother from hell. I think she ought to have some
sort of access. See her daughter now and again.’
Ted sat bolt upright in the easy chair. ‘What are you suggesting?’
‘I’m suggesting, my friend, that you telephone her and see if she would like to
see Mianda – maybe once or twice a week for a few hours.’
Ted shook his head emphatically. ‘No way am I ringing her.’
‘Your daughter won’t thank you in years to come; keeping her from her mother.’
‘Oh but, Donald,’ Ted pleaded, ‘she doesn’t even call her Miranda. She’s given
her a stupid bloody name.’
Donald chuckled. ‘You’re quite a snob deep down.’
Ted looked affronted. ‘Me?’
‘Yes, you just won’t admit that you find the name Tracey quintessentially
common. Go on: admit it.’
‘Rubbish. I just prefer the name Miranda, that’s all. I mean, if there was a
Tracey in one of Shakespeare’s plays…’
Donald looked up at the ceiling ruminatively. ‘That’s quite something, isn’t
it? Imagine if King Lear’s daughters were Tracey, Sharon and Michelle instead
of…’
Donald pointed another accusatory finger at Ted. ‘You’ve got me off the
subject, you crafty devil. We were discussing Miranda visiting her mother now
and again. I think you ought to phone the Beast from the
Black Swamp, and see if she’d like to see her daughter now and
again.’
‘I’m not ringing her,’ Ted said, sinking back into his chair, and pouting like
a small boy in a fit of the sulks.
‘The longer you leave it, the worse it’ll become.’
‘That’s where you’re wrong. I think the longer I leave it, the better it’ll
be.’
Donald pursed his lips thoughtfully. ‘Hmm. You think time will be the healer,
and all that?’
Ted nodded reluctantly. ‘Maybe a year from now…’
‘Don’t be stupid, Ted. That’s much too long. Ring her next month. Tell her you
think she ought to see her daughter from time-to-time.’
Deeply puzzled, Ted frowned. ‘Why are you doing this? I mean, we’re happy as we
are.’
Donald tapped the side of his nose. ‘I’m thinking ahead – years ahead. And when
I think of both my sisters’ relationship with my mother, and how important it
was, I don’t want us to screw it up with Miranda. I don’t want her to grow up
resenting us, and blame us for keeping her from her mother. So will you do it,
Ted? Ring the bitch up?’
There was a long pause as Ted thought about it. Donald stared at him with a
look that was persuasively demanding.
Suddenly, Ted sighed deeply as he gave in to Donald’s demanding stare. ‘Okay.
I’ll ring her in a month’s time. But I tell you: I’m not looking forward to it.
In fact, I’m dreading it.’
Donald smiled sympathetically. ‘I know that, Ted. And I admire you for doing
it. But believe me, it’s the best way. It really is.’ He looked towards the
baby and beamed at her. ‘And I know our little Miranda bunny will thank us for
keeping her in touch with her mummykins!’
IN EPISODE 166
Craig and Mandy fear for their future at the wine bar.