Chapter 7
MARY
As we set off back towards New Life Community Church, I mulled over the major revelations about Beckett.
He lived with his gramps, who was too unwell to be left alone.
Tanya and Sonali were carers, not girlfriends or partners.
His mum had died when he was young, so his grandfather had brought him up single-handed.
And while on the subject of single parents, his gramps had been like me, raising a tiny baby by himself. Now I understood why Beckett had felt so compelled to help me. He was doing it for his gramps. Or even for Margo, who hadn’t had the chance to take care of her son.
Gramps refused to tell me his name when I asked, but Beckett calmly explained that it was Marvin.
‘He had a stroke, amongst other things. It still affects him mentally and physically.’
‘Who did?’ Marvin gave his grandson a sharp look. ‘I don’t think you should be sharing information about your patients with strangers.’
‘It’s okay if I keep it anonymous, Gramps.’
‘Hmph.’ He closed his eyes, head slumping onto his bony chest a few seconds later as he began snoring.
‘When did it happen?’ I whispered.
‘Six years ago. Two weeks after I started working as a junior doctor.’
Woah. Beckett had told me he was thirty-two. Dealing with that when still in his twenties must have been awful. And Gramps was his only family.
‘Is that why you gave it up?’
He glanced over at the passenger seat, but Marvin was still wheezing softly. ‘It was why I stopped then. But to be honest, I’d had my doubts for a while. Some of the training was far tougher than I envisioned.’
‘Like what?’
‘The patients.’
I wasn’t expecting that. ‘You don’t strike me as the kind of person who doesn’t like helping people.’
He waited until turning out of the country lane onto the busy main road before answering.
‘It’s not that I don’t like people. I don’t love being forced to interact with them.
’ He frowned. ‘That’s not quite true. I didn’t mind the difficult conversations, breaking bad news, discussing treatment options.
What I found excruciating was the hours of having to reassure patients with small talk.
A surprising number of people find it uncomfortable or even frightening to have someone examining them in silence.
They’d prefer me to be prattling on about sport, or roadworks, rather than concentrating on what I’m supposed to be doing.
It felt more exhausting than an A & E night shift. ’
‘So you thought a job famously involving waffling about nothing was a better option?’
‘I find that most people prefer their taxi driver to remain quiet. The rest are happy to do the chatting while I nod occasionally. What was a better option, in order for me to be able to look after Gramps, was a job where I could pick and choose my hours, clock off early or cancel a shift as and when I needed to, with the bonus of driving between clients with nothing but my own thoughts for company.’
‘But if Marvin hadn’t got ill, you’d have carried on as a doctor?’
‘I was looking into specialising as a pathologist. Their patients aren’t so bothered by silence.’
‘Why did you keep going if it didn’t suit you?’
‘A five-year slog to get there, a hideously sized student loan, and the dream of being able to provide for Gramps. I took a year out to earn as much as I could before starting uni, but I could have kept working, or at least chosen a degree that allowed time for a part-time job, so Gramps didn’t have to be subbing my rent when I was twenty-four.
He was so proud, said it was all worth it.
If I dropped out, then his sacrifice was for nothing. ’
‘That must have been really tough.’
He was quiet for a moment.
‘Yeah. This is tougher.’
* * *
‘You don’t seem to have much problem talking to me,’ I observed a mile or so later.
Beckett kept his eyes on the road. ‘I don’t remember us having much time for idle chit-chat. I told you, I don’t have a problem talking about things that matter, or hold some interest.’
‘I hold some interest?’
He flashed a glance in the rear-view mirror this time. ‘If you think what happened last month was boring, I’m definitely interested in what the rest of your life is like.’
I shook my head. ‘The rest of my life is desperately trying to grab more than ninety minutes’ sleep, hours wrangling Bob’s feet into separate legs of his sleepsuit, only for one of them to wriggle out again the second I’ve done all the poppers, and crying.
So. Much. Crying. Probably more me than him.
It’s agonisingly mundane. I had cream cheese on my toast for breakfast, and that felt like a wild decision. ’
I cleared my throat, and again the filter on my mouth seemed to have taken a leave of absence, because I never would normally admit something like this to anyone apart from Shay or Kieran.
‘The only people I’ve spoken to this week are you and Gramps, Bob and a woman in the farm shop who stopped to admire his hat. Except she was talking to him, not me, so that doesn’t count.’
‘That’s three more people than I speak to on the average weekend.’
‘So, compared to you, my life is fascinating?’
‘My one friend is my grandpa. Maybe I’m curious about how someone else ended up as alone as me.’
I might have told him, something at least, but then Marvin woke up, opened the car door and tried throwing himself out. Thankfully, he couldn’t undo the seat belt, so Beckett was able to pull over before any harm was done.
It was well past midday by the time we arrived at the church.
The car park was full, so Beckett found a space on a nearby street.
I tucked Bob into his papoose, picked up the flowers I’d bought that morning at the farm shop down the road, and Beckett carried the car seat.
A group of people were leaving as we walked up, and a couple of vehicles were now pulling out, so I felt hopeful that we were in time to see at least someone who’d been there when Bob was born.
‘What is this place?’ Marvin asked, leaning heavily on his grandson. ‘It smells.’
‘It really doesn’t,’ Beckett said firmly, but there was a definite waft of spices coming from somewhere.
‘I don’t want to be here. Take me home.’
‘We won’t stay long. Mary just needs to give these flowers to someone.’
‘Who the hell is Mary?’
Before Beckett could reply, a woman bounced up to us from the church doorway.
‘Hey, hello!’ she said with enough energy to make my exhausted bones wince. ‘I didn’t spot you guys in the service.’
She wore a baggy blue boilersuit covered in daisies, and had a giant crocheted daisy at the end of each of her long brown plaits. A little girl was clinging to her middle like a baby koala, chewing solemnly on the end of one plait as she stared up at Beckett’s giant frame.
‘We just got here,’ I said with an awkward smile.
‘Oh, okay! Well, the service finished about half an hour ago, but you’re welcome to a drink and a chat. I’m Sofia, by the way. I help run New Life with my husband, Moses.’
Beckett visibly cringed at the offer of a chat, but when Sofia mentioned Moses, his shoulders dropped slightly.
‘Is Moses here?’
Sofia took a few seconds to answer him, having been distracted by noticing the baby on my chest. ‘Um… yes, he’s inside somewhere.
Oh, my days, this one is teensy ! How are you here?
You’re wearing make-up! Why aren’t you at home, lying on the sofa while someone—’ she gave Beckett a sharp look ‘—tends to your every need and want?’
‘We met Moses last month,’ Beckett pressed on, while I tried to process Sofia’s questions. ‘When Bob was born.’
‘Really?’ Sofia glanced at him, then back at me, the realisation dawning on her face. ‘You’re Mary! This is the baby born in our flat! I can’t believe you came back. This is amazing. Wait, let me get Moses. Oh, and Yara. Who else was asking about you? Patty! Has anyone seen Patty?’
‘She talks too fast,’ Marvin pronounced. ‘And says too much.’
‘I’m normally quite chilled,’ Sofia said, scanning the car park. ‘But it’s not every day that someone gives birth in our building. It’s no day , apart from that Sunday. I’m very excited right now. Luke, have you seen Patty or Yara?’
The whole time she was talking and twisting her head about, she had a hand on Bob’s foot. The girl she was carrying, who I guessed was three, dropped the plait.
‘You’re very old,’ she said, dark eyebrows beetling at Marvin.
‘You’re rude,’ he shot back.
‘You’re ruderer!’ the girl shouted, and who knew how things would have escalated if Moses hadn’t appeared at that point?
‘Mimi, it’s actually rude to call someone rude.’
‘Well, then, you’re rude, Dad, because you called Mimi rude,’ a boy holding Moses’ hand said. ‘And now I’m rude, because I called you rude.’
‘Mimi might have said something rude, but that doesn’t make her a rude person, Micah,’ Sofia said, thankfully letting go of Bob and bending down to talk to the boy. ‘Remember we had a conversation about this? Who you are isn’t defined by your worst actions.’
‘Tell that to someone on death row,’ Marvin snorted.
‘Okay, so what’s really rude is ignoring visitors at church,’ Moses said with a desperate grin, before suddenly realising who we were.
‘Mary! Beckett, my friend. And the star of the show!’ He leant closer to look at Bob, but could only make out the top of his head thanks to him currently headbutting my chest, baby talk for ‘feed me!’.
‘I’m calling him Bob, for now,’ I said with a nervous smile. ‘Although, to be honest, I’m so knackered I’ll probably be too tired to think of anything else, so he’ll end up Bob by default.’
‘As good a way to choose a name as any.’ Moses laughed. ‘We spent days agonising over what to call our youngest – she was the only one we had as a baby – but in the end our eldest daughter, Adina, chose Mimi because it’s the name of her Auntie Emma’s cat.’
‘How are you doing?’ Sofia asked. ‘Is Bob all right after his dramatic arrival? Did you make it home through the snow okay? Have you recovered from the trauma of your baby being delivered by an equine dentist?’ She stopped then, hitching Mimi up higher on her hip.
‘Sorry, I’m bombarding you again. Look, we’re having a lunch here, to kick off plans for the Christmas carol service.
Why don’t you join us, and we can talk properly? ’
‘No, we really couldn’t…’ I said, although part of me wondered why, precisely, I couldn’t stay for lunch, given we’d been invited by very friendly seeming people, and I’d been living off mainly crackers and toast. I glanced at Beckett, who shifted uncomfortably.
‘Thank you, but I really need to get my grandpa back. It’s a big deal for him to be out of the house these days.’
‘All the more reason?’ Sofia said, looking bemused while still beaming.
‘Come on, you’re here to give us an update, you might as well enjoy a bowlful of tagine and a comfy chair while you fill us in,’ Moses said.
Beckett bit his lip, resolve cracking.
‘We only came to give Yara these and say thank you. Oh, and to return the car seat. I’m sorry, I can’t remember the name of the man who leant it to us.’
‘Gave it!’ A brogue I instantly recognised boomed back. ‘It’s Bill, and I told you I’d be offended if you tried to give it back.’
He wagged a faux-angry finger as he slipped through the gathering crowd of interested onlookers to join us. ‘I’ve made my speciality carrot cake for pudding. I’d be genuinely insulted if you rejected that as well as the car seat.’
‘I like carrot cake,’ Marvin announced. ‘I’m staying for lunch.’
‘What?’ Beckett turned to his gramps, looking the most stressed I’d seen him, and that was saying something considering how we’d met. ‘No, we’re going to give Bill the car seat back, and then go.’
‘Then where will the baby sit on the way home?’ Marvin retorted. ‘Are you giving this Bill the baby, too? I wouldn’t,’ he said to me. ‘He looks shifty.’
I turned to Beckett. ‘Whoops.’
Beckett took a moment to catch up. ‘You didn’t bring another car seat to take Bob home.’
‘I don’t have another one, yet. I completely forgot.’
Beckett looked at me. I thought I spotted a twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth, but his overriding expression was one of discomfort. He leant close enough for no one else to hear. ‘What do you want to do?’
I shrugged. After my hermithood of the past few months, it was overwhelming enough being in this busy car park, with random curious people clustering around, and now we’d turned up with a car seat that we had to take back again.
But. I had a baby now. I had to break out of my self-imposed incubation and start living again.
For Bob’s sake, if not mine. Bob shouldn’t have to miss out on one bright, beautiful day this world had to offer because of his mother’s broken heart.
I might as well give it a go when I had Beckett here to provide moral support.
Although, Beckett looked as though this was as big a step beyond his comfort zone for him as for me.
All the more reason to try. It wasn’t as though we were going to see any of these people again.