Perfect Daughter (29 page)

Jacks felt the tears pool as she watched her kind man reading to her mum. Her wonderful man, who worked hard for his family and had been by her side in sickness and in health, for richer and for poorer. She knew she was lucky to have him.

Pete folded the sheet and placed it in the drawer of Ida’s bedside cabinet. ‘If you need me to read it to you again, then just shout.’

‘Dear, dear Toto.’ Ida smiled and closed her eyes.

Pete pulled the cover up to her chin and patted her arm. ‘That’s it, Ida, you have a bit of a nap.’ He crept backwards from the room and turned to find his wife crying in the hallway.

‘I had a great idea as I was driving in,’ he said. ‘It suddenly struck me, why make her wait for her letter, why not just make the letter arrive? And it did the trick. She seems settled.’

‘Thank you. Thank you, Pete.’

He pulled her to him and held her in his strong arms. They stood for a few minutes, feeling the solidity of each other beneath their palms.

‘Why are you crying? Don’t tell me you just saw the post-match analysis for City at the weekend? We’ve had a bloody shocker!’ He kissed her head as she leant into him.

‘I love you, Pete. I really love you.’

‘I know.’ He squeezed her tight.

Jacks stood back and looked up at her husband. ‘I am sorry. I’m sorry!’

Pete nodded, keeping his eyes fixed on hers. ‘Are we all right now? All sorted, girl?’

Jacks smiled and nodded. ‘Yep.’

‘Good.’ Pete sighed. ‘Then let that be the end of it. Cup of tea?’

‘Yes, please. Cup of tea would be lovely.’ She touched his arm. ‘I heard you reading to my mum. That was a lovely thing to do.’

‘Well, as I say, I figured if she actually got what she wanted, then she might stop fretting about it.’

‘You are very wise.’

‘Don’t know about that. Reckon if I was a bit wiser I’d have kept old Giddyup away from Martha.’

Jacks knew they had to broach the subject. ‘She’s gone to stay at his house, with his mum.’

Pete nodded. ‘I know. She sent me a text.’

‘She told me a few things this morning about how she’s been feeling and it’s made me think—’

‘Let’s chat downstairs.’ He reached out and held her hand as they made their way slowly down the bare, creaking stairs to the kitchen.

Jacks lowered herself into a chair. ‘I think you’re right. It’s not the worst thing that could happen, Pete, is it? Not really.’

Pete placed the mug in front of her as he spoke. ‘It’s not, love. There’s many a bloke that would have done a runner, but not him. He proper loves her and she loves him. And when you proper love someone, that’s what you do, you stick around no matter how hard the going gets.’

Jacks took his hand, thinking of her earlier encounter. ‘I know. It’s just not what I wanted for her. She’s so smart!’

‘Yes she is and that’s why we have to trust her to make her own life.’

‘I know, I know,’ Jacks conceded, staring into her tea as though that was where the answer might lie.

Pete’s voice was steady. ‘I was thinking about how your mum and dad reacted. After the initial upset, they were lovely, accepting, and it made everything easier, didn’t it? And then I came along and they were good about that too. Imagine if we’d had to deal with hostility from them as well. That would have been tough. As I see it, we’ve got two choices: we either support her, help her, love her, like we have done since the day she was born, or we lose her. And that would be the worst thing. It’s that simple.’

‘I don’t want to lose her! I really don’t,’ Jacks cried.

‘Then it’s an easy choice, love.’ Pete rubbed his palms together. ‘We know, don’t we, that you have to stick together, work things through.’

‘Yes we do.’

‘And you’re sure we’re okay?’ He looked at her, his words heavy with meaning.

Jacks held his gaze. ‘I saw him again, just to say goodbye.’ She sniffed.

‘Still have one of his mum’s old jumpers on, did he?’

Jacks laughed and shook her head. ‘I feel like I’ve put a few ghosts to bed.’

‘Good.’ He was firm. ‘All I want is to make you all happy. That’s all I ever wanted.’

Jacks stood and wrapped her arms around his neck. ‘And you do, my lover, you do.’ She kissed him hard on the cheek. ‘He offered us money, said he wanted to help. I told him we didn’t want it, we didn’t need anything.’

Pete nodded. ‘We don’t miss what we’ve never had, eh, girl?’

Jacks sighed and sat down next to him.

There was a banging noise overhead. ‘What in God’s name is that?’

‘Ah, yes, I gave your mum a stick, told her to bang on the floor if she needed anything.’

‘Think I preferred the bloody bell!’ Jacks stood. ‘Coming, Mum!’ she shouted as she trotted up the stairs.

Later that night, Jacks sat in the car with the engine off and stared up at the windows of the Parks’ house in Alfred Street. Not that there was anything to see. It was an inky blue night and the lights inside were on and the curtains drawn. She imagined Martha indoors with Allison and Gideon, eating her tea, watching TV, lying around in her pyjamas, living in this house to which she had no connection. Picturing the scenes of domesticity was like sticking a knife into her gut. Half an hour passed and then her mobile buzzed on the dashboard, making her jump.

‘Where are you, love?’ Pete’s voice was soft.

‘I’m in Alfred Street,’ she admitted, ‘just sitting outside their house.’

‘What are you doing that for?’

Jacks shrugged. ‘I just want to see her.’

‘Do you want me to come and sit with you?’ he offered.

‘No. But thank you. It’s best you’re there in case Mum wakes up. And Jonty’s asleep.’

‘Have you seen anything yet?’ Pete hated the thought of his daughter being away as much as Jacks did. Jacks had spied him earlier on, laying a palm against Martha’s pillow and arranging her soft toys on the end of her bed, like he used to when she was little.

‘No.’

‘Are you going to knock on the door?’

‘No.’

‘Oh, Jacks, is this what you’re reduced to? Sitting in the street trying to catch a glimpse of her? It’s not going to help, you know.’

She felt the familiar hot trickle of tears. ‘I miss her. I miss my daughter and I feel like everything is falling apart, Pete. I keep thinking about when I was little and my dad built me a Wendy house on the grass round the back. I loved it. I used to sit in it and make out I was cooking the tea and expecting visitors. But we left it outside, uncovered, all winter and the glue got wet and the plywood rotted. It collapsed and lay on the lawn in bits. It wasn’t my house any more, just these flat, useless panels, no longer fit for purpose. And that’s like my life. Everything has gone flat, fallen apart and I don’t know how to put it all back together again. I don’t know where to start.’

‘You can start by coming home. Sitting in the street by yourself will do you no good at all.’

‘She said she’d come back when it felt like home. But it won’t ever feel like home, not while she’s not in it and not talking to me.’

‘She’ll come back, Jacks, I promise.’

Jacks started the engine. ‘God, I hope you’re right.’

‘Come home, Jacks, and have an early night. You’re tired.’

She took one last look up at the windows before reluctantly pulling out of Alfred Street.

28

Eighteen Years Earlier

It was early evening at Weston-super-Mare General Hospital when Ida drew her eyes away from the little telly that was mounted high on the wall in the corner of the waiting room. The local news was on, but with the sound muted she could only guess at the stories from the pictures and the smiles or frowns of the presenters. She watched as Don came back through the swing doors and into the room, shrugging his shoulders and wringing his hands as if the outside cold still clung to him.

‘Where have you been?’ she snapped, her voice full of mistrust. Twenty minutes was plenty enough time for him to have been up to something.

He turned to look at her, removed his coat and placed it on the empty chair alongside. ‘To make a phone call.’ His tone was level. He hitched his trousers, sat down and rested his ankle on his opposite knee.

Ida shook her head.

‘Oh, the head shaking now? Even here, today?’ Don swirled his hand in the air, as if she might be unaware of where they were.

‘Do you think I want to be that person?’ she whispered, rearranging her handbag on her lap, grateful for the prop.

He folded his arms across his chest. ‘I don’t think you know how to be anything else any more.’

‘And whose fault is that?’ She stared at him.

‘Mine.’ He closed his eyes and bowed his head. ‘Everything is always my fault. I think we established that a long time ago.’

‘Do you know, you are right.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know how to be any other person and that’s the worst part of it for me.’ Her lower lip trembled. ‘I never wanted to be like this, to live like this!’

Don snapped the newspaper, opening it wide and lifting it to cover his upper body and face. There was a brief pause in their bickering, then Ida broke the silence again.

‘It doesn’t feel like eighteen years ago that
I
was giving birth. I remember every second of that day like it was yesterday. Every single second.’ She smiled at the memory.

‘Ah yes.’ His voice floated from behind the red-top. ‘You had a go at me then as well, I recall.’

‘And do you remember why?’

He laughed loudly and let one side of his newspaper fall, freeing a hand so that he could rub his tired eyes. ‘As if I could for one second forget.’

There was another moment or two of silence.

‘Do you think…’ She hesitated. ‘Do you think, if things had been different for us, if we’d been different parents, given a better example maybe, we’d still be sitting here now?’

Before Don had a chance to answer, the nurse popped her head round the door. ‘Just to let you know, your daughter’s doing great. No news yet, but shouldn’t be too much longer!’ She smiled and retreated, eager to get back to wherever she was needed.

‘Come on, push!’ Pete shouted, gripping Jacks’ hand inside his.

Jacks screwed her eyes shut and tried, really tried. Her face was contorted and scarlet, her head bent down to her chest. Then she gasped and lay back against the pillow, suddenly limp and breathless. ‘I’m too tired. I can’t… I can’t do this any more.’

It had been seven hours of hard work. Her muscles were tired, her will was waning and she desperately wanted to sleep. The gas and air were now proving ineffective and they were too far into proceedings for an epidural to be of any real use.

Pete leant forward and placed his hand on her back, talking directly into her face. ‘Yes, you can, Jacks! You can do anything. Anything. And you are nearly done. Nearly there, love. Isn’t that right, Cath?’ He looked across at the midwife, who was sitting on a stool with his wife’s feet by her ears, her head bobbing between the stirrups.

‘Yep, he’s right. One or two big pushes and we are going to have ourselves a little bibber babber!’

Jacks threw her head back and smiled in spite of her exhaustion, picturing her baby, who very soon she would be meeting. Her long fringe was stuck to her face with sweat; she was thirsty but wary of drinking as she didn’t want to complicate matters by needing to pee.

‘Just think, years ago, you’d have simply dropped your little one behind a bush and carried on working in the fields!’ Pete grinned.

‘Not sure that’s helpful.’ Cath smiled curtly at the nervous dad-in-waiting, who so far had been doing a grand job of supporting his young wife.

‘I’m just saying it’s the most natural thing in the world, isn’t it?’ He repositioned his gown, which had slipped down his arms.

‘Doesn’t feel natural right now.’ His wife sighed. ‘It feels like hard bloody work! Don’t reckon I could go back to work in the fields!’ She puffed.

‘You don’t have to worry about that, girl. You’ve got me.’ He beamed. ‘I’ll go to work and bring you whatever you need. That’s my job, to look after you, and I always will, always.’ He squeezed her hand. ‘I’m a footballer.’ Pete beamed with pride at the midwife. The novelty of talking about his new role as the star striker for Weston-super-Mare AFC still hadn’t worn off.

‘Oh God, here we go, I can feel it coming again!’ Jacks pushed her bottom down into the mattress and leant forward. With her teeth gritted and her eyes once again tightly closed, her face got redder and redder with the exertion. ‘Oh! Oh shit!’ she managed, breathless now.

‘That’s it! Breathe, my love! You are doing great, Jacks! Breathe!’ Pete puffed with bloated cheeks and lips pursed. All inhibitions now gone, he was lost in the moment. As he gripped her hand and squeezed her shoulder in support, he wasn’t thinking about his footballing career; he was her husband, about to become a dad. The two of them weren’t simply recent school-leavers now; they were grown-ups, new parents.

‘Don’t leave me!’ she shrieked.

‘I won’t! I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here. We’re a team, you and me.’

‘Not just now, we’re not.’ She sighed. ‘Don’t leave me! Not ever!’

He looked her in the eye. ‘I won’t. Ever. I love you.’

She stared at her husband. ‘And I love you, Pete, I really, really do! I love you!’ She sobbed.

‘You do?’ he asked, beaming with joy.

She nodded. ‘I do! Oh God! Oh God!’ She panted the words. ‘It’s really happening. I can feel it!’

‘This is it!’ Cath said. ‘The head is crowning. Nearly there! Come on, one big push for me, Jackie! Nearly there!’

And then, in a matter of seconds, after a guttural shout that seemed to come from deep inside, they heard the sound of crying. It was a stuttering call from new lungs. Cath lifted the baby girl and placed her on her mum’s chest, still attached by the umbilical cord that had been her lifeline for the last thirty-nine weeks.

Jacks lay back against the pillow with her small, wet child on her chest, kissing her damp head as her little fingers flexed in the air and her tiny mouth sought her mother’s skin.

‘She’s… she’s so beautiful!’ Pete managed through his tears. ‘Hello! Hello, my little girl,’ he whispered as he kissed her head with its soft covering of down.