Half-truths & White Lies (22 page)

'Shall we give him back now?' Andrea enquired after
Laura and Derek had been home for a couple of days.

'Andrea, why don't you give your brother a nice kiss
on his cheek?' Laura tried to encourage her. Andrea
reluctantly bent down over him, grabbed his body and
pecked him on the side of his head, pulling away as
quickly as she could. 'Gently now! He's only little.'

'Will Daddy be coming to see Derek soon?' Andrea
asked suddenly, this new thought lighting up her eyes.

Laura and I looked at each other. We hadn't even got
to grips with the issue of how to refer to my relationship
with Derek, let alone our new relationship.

'Darling, Daddy can't come home right now. He's
very busy.'

'Why?'

'He has to work very hard.'

'Don't you have to work very hard, Uncle Pete?'

'Sometimes I have to work very hard. You remember
when I was away from home for all those months, don't
you?'

Laura had only been home for two days when she
woke during the night with a fever. She shook me
awake. 'Something's wrong,' she kept on repeating.

I propped myself up on my elbows and turned the
bedside light on. She was feverish but shivering and I
could see that the colour had drained from her face. 'I'm
going hot and cold.'

'Shall I get you something? A drink, maybe,' I offered
feebly.

'Pete, I'm not thirsty. I think I need to go to hospital.'

There's nothing like the 'h' word to make you wake
up.

'I'll get dressed,' I said, pulling back the blankets. 'Do
you want to put some clothes on?' As I turned to cover
her again, I saw a large bloodstain on the sheets and
more wet blood on my own pyjama bottoms. 'You're
bleeding.'

'Call for an ambulance,' she said calmly and without
surprise. 'Get the children up. You can drop them off at
my mother's and then follow.'

'Should I . . . ?'

'Now, Pete,' she said firmly.

'Right.' I rushed to the phone and dialled 999. They
used the word haemorrhaging when I described the
bleeding and asked me if I knew her blood type in case
she needed a transfusion.

'I don't know,' I stumbled, the seriousness of the
situation dawning on me.

'Stay with her,' I was instructed. 'We'll be with you as
soon as we can.'

I woke Andrea who was groggy with sleep and got her
into her dressing gown and slippers, telling her that
there was no need to be scared but that Mummy was
not well and an ambulance would be coming to take
her to hospital. I asked her to go and look out of the
window and shout as soon as she saw it coming. I didn't
want to frighten her but I couldn't risk her rushing to
her mother's side and panicking at the sight of blood.
With Derek slung over one shoulder howling, I went to
see how Laura was faring, intending to help her into
some clean clothes. She was barely conscious and
murmuring. Not even Derek's cries roused her.

'Stay with me, Laura, they're on their way.' I tried to
keep on talking to her, keeping the panic at bay, just as
I had been instructed. 'Not long now. They'll have you
fixed in no time.' Five minutes passed. Six. I was torn
between watching for the ambulance myself and staying
with her. I paced the room, patting little Derek's back,
while keeping an eye on the figure in the bed who
seemed to be fading. 'Any minute now,' I told her, checking
my watch, each minute seeming like an eternity.

'They're here!' I heard Andrea shouting.

'That's a good girl.' I hurried down the stairs to open
the front door. 'You stay there in the warm, then we'll go
to Nana's in the car. Upstairs,' I told the ambulance crew
as they pushed past me. 'First door on the left.'

I followed them up to find the first, a man, giving
instructions for oxygen and a stretcher to be brought in.
I could read little from his expression.

'How long ago was the baby born?' he asked.

'Twelve days.'

'First child?'

'Second child.'

'Any complications after the first?'

'None that I know of.'

'Maybe if you grab some clean clothes and wash
things,' a lady suggested, although I got the distinct
impression that she was giving me a job to keep me
busy. 'Are you coming in the ambulance, Mr Albury?'
She had assumed that I was Laura's husband.

'I'll follow in the car after I've dropped off the
children at their grandmother's.'

'We'll move her now. Can you go downstairs and
make sure there's nothing blocking our way. It'll be St
Theresa's. We'll get her checked in right away, so she
may have gone down to surgery when you arrive. She's
lost a lot of blood.'

They were so quick and efficient that there was little
for me to do. As I walked out to look at her in the back
of the ambulance, they already had a drip in place. The
doors were slammed shut and the driver turned the
siren on.

'Right,' I said to myself, walking back to the front
door, my mind a blank. 'Andrea! Are you ready to go?'

'Is Mummy all right?' She looked so small and
frightened that my heart went out to her.

'Mummy's going to be fine, but she needs to go to
hospital for some rest,' I told her. 'It's very hard work
looking after a new baby. Have you got teddy with you?'
I tried to distract her. She shook her head, wide-eyed.
'Well, run upstairs and get him and then we'll be off.'

I picked up the phone to Mrs Albury, judging that she
might prefer to be warned of our imminent arrival. I
didn't want to be outside in the middle of the night
hammering on her front door with two children in tow.
It rang for some time before she answered, 'Four-seven-three-
six.'

'It's Peter Churcher,' I stumbled. 'Laura's had to go to
hospital. I wondered if I could bring the children over.'

'Now?' she asked, half asleep.

'Now.'

'Is it serious?'

'She's haemorrhaging and has a fever,' I told her. 'They
think she might need a blood transfusion. I don't know
any more than that at the moment.'

'My poor Laura!' she exclaimed. 'You'd better come
right over.'

'We're on our way.'

It was only once I had dropped the children off at
their grandmother's, depositing Derek in Mrs Albury's
arms, that I allowed myself a moment to cry. There was
shock and a feeling of utter helplessness. The joy of the
last few days had disintegrated. I didn't want to let my
mind wander, but already my prayers were following
the lines that I would be prepared to give up my son if
only Laura could be all right. Although I had been overwhelmed
by my feelings for Derek, I would have done
anything in my power to help Laura. At that point in
time it was only a prayer. The mere idea filled me with
dread, but praying gave me strength and purpose. I felt
that I had an element of control over the situation, no
matter how small. It was enough to enable me to switch
the engine on and drive.

There was another restless night of waiting before I
was able to see Laura again and then she was only half
conscious and delirious, hooked up to tubes and
machinery.

'Are you her husband?' the nurse asked while checking
the chart at the foot of her bed. 'She's been asking
for Tom. "Find Tom," she keeps on saying. "Find Tom." '

I sat by her side. 'I'm here now, Laura. You're in good
hands.' To the nurse, I explained, 'I'm Peter Churcher.
How long will it be before she comes round?'

'That's a good question,' she said in the sort of kindly
tone reserved for bad news. 'It's early days yet. She has
an infection that is causing the fever. We'll know in the
next twenty-four hours if the antibiotics are doing their
job. But she's very weak from the loss of blood. I'll be
keeping an extremely close eye on her.'

'Should I be worried?' I asked. 'What news should I
tell her mother?'

'It's serious, my dear. Tell her to come and see her
daughter.' She patted my arm gently. 'And I'd go and
find this Tom if I were you.'

I knocked at Mrs Fellows's front door, determined but
already on the defensive. I could hear her heavy footsteps
as she came down the stairs.

'Oh, for God's sake,' she muttered with distaste as she
opened the door a crack and then closed it. Through the
frosted-glass panel, I could still see her shadowy outline,
so I knew that she had not retreated far.

'Mrs Fellows, I really need to find Tom,' I called
through the letter box. 'Laura is seriously ill in hospital
and she's asking for him.'

'It's a bit late for that now,' she replied.

'I know how you must feel but please don't turn me
away,' I begged her. 'I don't know if Laura's going to
make it or not.' It was as if the situation became more
real when I said those words out loud. I was still bent
over and leaning against the door when it opened
inwards.

'I don't know if Tom's going to make it or not,' she
said softly. 'You'd better come in.'

Over a cup of tea, she told me that Tom had suffered
what she could only describe as a complete nervous
breakdown. It didn't make comfortable listening. Even
if she had insisted, 'Peter, you're not to blame,' I
wouldn't have believed her. She did no such thing.
There was anger in her voice as she told me that some
weeks earlier, Tom had been delivered home by a man
who called himself Surly. Surly was a publican who had
heard Tom busking on a couple of occasions, recognized
his talent and hired him. When he found out that
Tom was sleeping rough, he gave him a room over the
pub as part of his salary. In a matter of weeks, Tom
reversed the flagging fortunes of the business. It was a
large Victorian building near Clapham Common, too
large for the few locals who enjoyed a quick pint on
their way home from work. Tom pulled in a young
crowd who had money to spend and stayed all night. As
they thought they got to know him, they started to ask
for requests. They wanted cover versions rather than
Tom's music. 'We Are the Champions' by Queen, 'Hotel
California' by the Eagles, 'Wonderful Tonight' by Eric
Clapton, 'Dancing in the Moonlight' by Thin Lizzy. He
gave them what they wanted but his heart wasn't in it.
The landlord noticed the change in him. Apparently
Tom got abusive when he thought that the requests
turned into mickey taking. Surly had to step in once
when some clown asked for 'Angelo' by the
Brotherhood of Man and things turned nasty. Instead of
putting the crowds off, Tom's reputation grew.
Everybody wanted to see this unpredictable talent – and
unfortunately everyone wanted to bait him to see what
would push him over the edge. Surly became concerned
by his mood swings. Even though he hadn't known
Tom for long, he thought that he had the measure of
him and knew it was out of character. Then, for days,
Tom wouldn't get out of bed at all. Surly tried unsuccessfully
to persuade him to eat. He offered to call
him a doctor. He was a reasonable man but he was no
saint. He knew that he had a liability on his hands. Tom
could have had a serious drug problem for all he knew
and that was something he couldn't have going on
under his roof. He had his licence to think of. To him,
it seemed obvious why his discovery had been busking
down the Underground and sleeping under bridges.
Even after he had paid him, Tom never seemed to have
any money. Of course, I knew that he had been sending
whatever he earned home to Laura and Andrea, but I
could understand how it must have appeared. To top it
all, a man in a suit started to turn up week after week
looking for him and wouldn't take no for an answer.
When Tom asked Surly to lie for him, he thought that
Tom was in serious trouble. He did the only thing he
knew how to do; he moved the problem to someone
else's doorstep. He drove Tom all the way home to his
mother, who was now living in fear of every knock on
the door.

'There won't be a knock at the door,' I said. 'The man
in the suit was me.'

'You?' she asked disbelievingly.

'I spent weeks trying to find him. I thought I might be
able to persuade him to come home.'

'Wasn't it a bit late for that?'

'I owed him that much.' I shook my head. 'Has he said
anything?'

'Nothing I can make any sense of. He won't even let
me call a doctor. Says he'll disappear again if I try. But I
don't know how long I can watch him go on like
this.'

We sat in silence for a short while, both staring at our
mugs of tea.

Eventually Mrs Fellows said, 'He told me once that he
stole Laura away from you and that he didn't deserve
you as a friend. Well, the tables have well and truly
turned now. You've got a lot of making up to do.'

I nodded. 'Is he here?'

'Not in the house.' She shook her head. 'He didn't
want to risk being seen. He's been living in the shed
these last few weeks.'

'Can I see him?'

'Don't expect too much,' she sighed. 'He's a changed
man. If you're lucky, he might not even recognize you.'

We walked in silence down the long garden, Mrs
Fellows leading with a torch. As we approached, I could
see a glow through the window and hear guitar chords.
Not the expert playing that I had been used to, but
random chords. It sounded as if the instrument was
under attack.

'Tom!' Mrs Fellows called out in an overly cheerful
voice. 'You've got a visitor. Pete's here to see you.'

The playing stopped and there was a scuffling movement
inside.

'Be my guest,' she said to me, gesturing inside. 'You're
on your own from here.'

The band's van was still parked at the side of the
garage, just as it had always been. There were signs of
life. Plates and cups littered the workbenches. An ashtray.
The sofa was draped with clothes. It was not an
uncomfortable living space and an obvious hideaway. I
was surprised that I hadn't thought to look here before.
Where else would Tom have gone? I sat on the sofa and
waited, looking towards the doors at the back of the
van. Whenever it was not in use, the van had always had
a double mattress in the back. It had seen an extraordinary
amount of use when we had been in our early
twenties. It was now Tom's bedroom. I heard the
occasional small movement, enough to make me think
that he was listening. It was easier to explain why I had
come to see him without having to look him in the eye.

'I know you don't want to see me, Tom,' I started,
without knowing if he could actually understand me.
'But I had to find you. Laura's in hospital. She's very
unwell and she's asking for you. I know this is a bad
time for you, but I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if
I didn't try.'

There was silence.

'I don't know if she's going to make it, Tom. Will you
come with me to see her?'

Still no reply. I tried a different approach.

'Andrea's fine, Tom. She's with Laura's mum. She's
missing you so much. Keeps asking when you'll be
home. She needs you too.'

I heard some more movement and then the opening
chords of 'Andrea's Song', unmistakable but played
clumsily, as if he was having difficulty remembering the
tune.

'Laura had a baby boy twelve days ago. He was
premature. We called him Derek.' Silence again. I didn't
know if he was listening or covering his ears to block
out the words. 'They had only been home for two days
when she was taken ill. There was a lot of blood. She
was barely conscious. I had to call an ambulance. I
watched them take her away. I couldn't leave the
children. They rushed her straight into surgery.'

There was no reaction.

'Are you getting all this?' I was suddenly angry. 'I tried
to find you, Tom. I tried to find you for weeks. We didn't
want it to be like this . . .' I ran out of steam.

'What makes you think I wanted to see you?' a small
voice said.

I stood up, almost laughing with joy. He was looking
out of one of the two square windows in the doors at
the back of the van. I couldn't see him very clearly in the
dark, but I could see the outline of his head and whites
of his eyes. The most obvious difference was that his
silhouette was altered. He had shaved his head.

'I'm pretty sure you don't want to see me, but Laura
wants to see you. Even when she's unconscious and
doesn't know what she's saying, it's you that she's asking
for. She was never in love with me.' Suddenly, it
struck me that I was telling the truth. Laura loved me
but she was never in love with me. It hurt to say it
out loud. 'It was always supposed to be you and her.'

'I was never enough for her. She always wanted something
more.'

'No, Tom! Laura's just in love with life. She gets one
thing and she's on to the next. It's hard to keep up at
times, I'll admit. Come and see her, Tom. She'll put up
a fight once she knows you're there.'

'I can't cope with the baby.'

'You won't have to.'

'I can't do that.' His voice was small and child-like,
but he was adamant. 'I don't want him near me.'

'I give you my word.' I still have no idea what I was
thinking of when I said that. At the time, I just wanted
Tom to agree to come with me to see Laura. What would
happen after that was too much to think about.

I heard the rattle of the door and he appeared, legs
first. If he had looked gaunt when he was studying late
into the night, he now looked almost skeletal, his shirt
and jeans hanging off him. With his head shaven and
hunched over his shoulders, he also looked shorter. As
he came closer, I noticed the dark circles under his
hollow eyes against the paleness of his skin. His head
had been shaved unevenly at the sides and back, as if
he had done it himself. He shivered visibly, although it
was not particularly cold.

'When's the last time you've been outside?' I asked,
looking round for something warmer for him to wear. I
found his leather jacket on the sofa, the Spearheads'
slogan on the back. 'Here. Put this on.' I held it out to
him, but I had to help him into it. It seemed to weigh
him down and swamp him, making him look smaller
still. One thing was for sure. If Laura saw him and
wanted him to stay, it wouldn't be for his looks.

'Are you ready?' I asked him and turned in the
direction of the house.

'Not that way,' he said, grabbing my arm with remarkable
strength. 'Not through the house. You remember
the way.'

We walked along the alley that led around the back of
the houses in the darkness.

'Like the old days,' he said, his hands buried deep in
his jacket pockets.

'Just like the old days,' I repeated, feeling older by the
minute.

We drove to the hospital in silence. I was aware of
Tom flinching at car headlights, squinting to avoid the
glare. I felt his animal presence, his unpredictability. He
was like Tom, but also far removed from the Tom that I
had known. I wondered if Laura would recognize him if
she woke up or if she would be frightened at the sight
of this stranger.

I parked and put the handbrake on.

'We're here,' I said.

'It's just us?' he asked, looking full of doubt. 'No one
else is going to be there?'

'Just us.'

It was still very early and the hospital was silent. As
we walked along the maze of antiseptic corridors, my
footsteps echoing, Tom's brushing as he dragged his
feet, I had a growing sense of unreality. All of the elation
of the last couple of weeks, the shock of the previous
night and the mixed emotions at finding Tom warred
against each other.

Here was the woman that I loved, lying unconscious
in a hospital bed, linked up to numerous machines that
flashed and bleeped, administering the medicines
that might save her, pumping the clean blood around
her body. A clear tube protruded from her nose. A
needle was inserted in her hand, held in place by tape.
A cold flannel was placed over her forehead, her blonde
hair dulled by the dampness.

Here was the man that she loved – that we both loved
– moved to tears by the sight of her, leaning over her,
stroking her hair, talking to her softly, changed and yet
the same.

'What have you done to yourself?' he asked.

There were so many questions I wanted to know the
answer to. What had Laura done to herself? What had
we all done to ourselves? What on earth had we done to
each other? What had I put Tom through?

A nurse asked, 'Are you the husband?'

Tom looked confused and turned to me for an
answer.

'Are you Tom Fellows?' she tried again.

Tom nodded, not letting go of Laura's hand.

'No wonder,' the nurse whispered to me, putting her
hand on my shoulder, thinking that she understood
everything, before she left the room.

'Is she any better?' I asked.

'She's stable. Early days yet. Don't expect too much.'

I understood nothing, other than the desire to make
everything all right. To take us back to a time when
everything was simple and there was everything to look
forward to. It seemed very clear that this was up to me.
Although I had no faith to speak of, I repeated my
prayer that, if only Laura would live, I would do whatever
was necessary to make things right. Then I went to
telephone the only person in the world who I knew
would understand how I was feeling: my old adversary,
Faye.

'What time of the morning do you call this?' she
snapped down the phone, even before she knew it was
me.

'Faye!' I said with relief at the sound of her familiar
voice.

'I might have known it would be you, Peter Churcher.
Just because you're up all night with the new baby
doesn't mean the rest of us don't like our sleep.'

I tried to sound calm. 'Faye, you need to come home.'

'I've told you already. You may find Derek fascinating,
but I'll wait until he can do something a bit more
interesting than eat, sleep and scream before I come to
see him.'