Chapter 9
MARY
I spent the journey home in rapt silence.
I had set off in Beckett’s car that morning feeling pitiful.
I had only one maybe-friend in the whole world, nothing meaningful to do apart from try not to mess up being a mum as badly as I had the rest of my life, and no hope of feeling anything other than a complete wreck for the foreseeable future.
I returned home with a stomach full of good food, a head bursting with a festive project to get stuck into – with my definite-friend, who was turning out to be much more fun than I’d supposed, and an invitation to have coffee with Sofia – a real-life, interesting and lovely-seeming person.
I’d forgotten what it felt like, spending time with other human beings. Camaraderie and the buzz of conversation. Witnessing the joy of sharing stories, jokes and problems with people who cared.
It felt invigorating. Overwhelming. Thrilling. Hopeful.
As if a bucketload of raw, rampant grief had been tipped over my head.
I had known that kind of friendship. The lightness that came from not having to explain, or fill in the gaps, or worry about a reaction. Losing it had broken me.
Today, as I sat in Beckett’s car and watched buildings give way to field and forest, amongst the agony that had taken root in my soul nestled the tiny green shoots of a new beginning.
* * *
After a massive thank you to Beckett, who had been railroaded into doing far more than he’d originally agreed to, I hurried inside my cottage, left a sleeping baby in the car seat on the living-room floor, and, propelled by all the unleashed feelings, opened up my laptop and got browsing.
By the time Bob let me know he needed another feed, and a nappy change, and a long, fretful cuddle, I’d ordered a pram, changing bag, some proper nursing bras and various other bits I’d chucked in my online shopping basket that my midwife would no doubt consider fripperies, but which to me were the lifeline pulling me a wobbly step out of the bog I’d been wallowing in.
I also searched for local fabric suppliers. I wasn’t about to order any materials for the carol concert without being able to inspect them first.
I briefly wondered whether it was time to look at buying a car. Having my own transport would make everything so much easier. But until I had a reliable source of income – and how could that happen, with a baby? – I wasn’t comfortable blowing that amount of savings.
The plus side of having no transport was the excuse to spend more time with Beckett, until our friendship was secure enough to no longer need one.
I did feel an appropriate pang of guilt that this would take up both time and petrol, but I would find ways to repay him if he didn’t want money, and it was pretty obvious that Beckett needed more enjoyable things to do with his time.
The answer came to me during a 2a.m. feed.
Mary
I have the perfect way to pay you back for driving me about and everything else
To my surprise, he answered almost instantly.
Beckett
I told you. I don’t want paying back.
Mary
Why are you still up at this time? Have you and Gramps been out partying?
Beckett
Why do you find it so difficult to accept help?
Mary
I asked first
Beckett
Yes, we’ve been out partying. If ‘partying’ includes lighting a bonfire in the garden while wearing only long johns and slippers.
Mary
Sounds like my kind of party. I didn’t take you for the kind of guy to wear long johns
As soon as I’d sent that message I regretted being flippant about something so horrible. It was the middle of the night, and my head was full of fuzz, but that didn’t make it okay.
Before I could think about it, I called him.
‘Hi.’
‘That was really insensitive. I’m sorry. You said the middle-of-the-night stuff was the worst. I shouldn’t have made a joke.’
‘I told you, laughing about it keeps me sane.’
‘Are you okay to talk? Is Gramps back in bed?’
Beckett sighed. ‘Yeah. For now. I’m only grateful that him banging about looking for matches woke me up.’
‘Is there any way you can stop him getting into the garden, like hide the door key?’
‘I’ll sort something out.’
‘So, you normally work during the day and are up at night putting out fires?’
‘I usually worked the evening shift because it fitted with Tanya’s hours.’
‘How do you cope? When do you ever get time to relax or have fun?’
‘I find driving relaxing. Right now fun is not a priority. Or a possibility.’
‘Hello, Santa-day Night?’
‘Right now, fun is not a poss?—’
‘But it should be. It has to be. If you carry on like this, taking no time to look after yourself, you’ll end up ill, and what will happen to Gramps then?’
‘Well, thanks for that. Just the pick-me-up I needed to hear right now.’ Beckett’s voice had noticeably sharpened. I pressed on before he grew really annoyed.
‘I want to help. Please. Not instead of you paying for a professional carer. On top of that, as a friend. If you’re going to be working on the carol concert with me, it’s the least I can do.’
There was a brief pause.
‘You have Bob to take care of.’
‘Gramps loves Bob. Having a baby to coo over will stop him getting into mischief.’
‘Gramps can be really unpleasant. Today was a good day because he had his own way.’
‘Yesterday Bob peed in my eye. I can handle offensive comments.’ I didn’t mention all the times I’d listened to people pouring their frustration out to my mum, far too distressed to tone it down because there was a teenager sitting in the corner.
‘It’s a bit more than that.’
‘Beckett, a few minutes ago you asked why I find it so hard to accept help. Can you answer the same question? I’m offering to sit with your grandpa for a few hours, I don’t know, a couple of times a week.
In exchange for you doing me a massive favour that will take loads of your time.
You can go for a walk, or enjoy a coffee in a bougie café, sit and read.
Join a club. Go on a date! Find something that makes you laugh, or simply forget for a while. ’
He was silent in response to this, so I kept going.
‘I have virtually nothing to do.’
‘Apart from Bob.’
I dismissed that with an irritated tut. ‘Other mums look after babies while caring for older kids, running their own business, or at the very least having a basic social life. Sofia and Moses have five kids!’
‘Sofia and Moses have each other.’
‘Look, just stop, okay? I’m going to do this. I need to do this. Otherwise I… I can’t be friends with you.’
‘You’re giving me an ultimatum?’
‘No.’ I sighed. That wasn’t it at all. When was my brain going to start functioning again?
‘It’s a fact. Despite current circumstances, I know how to be a good friend, and that includes not wasting your days watching Grey’s Anatomy ignoring a friend who’s struggling.
I literally can’t do it. I hate myself enough already at the moment. ’
Woah, Mary. That was way too much information.
I spent a few moments mentally beating myself over the head while waiting for Beckett to reply. When he did speak, it was hesitant, as if he was far more competent than me at thinking before blurting out humiliating opinions about himself.
‘If you’re going to be coming around to my house, then I’d consider it more relaxing and… fun…’ he stumbled over the word as if it were in a foreign language ‘…if I stayed, rather than went to some coffee shop. I spend enough time in my taxi trying to ignore the strangers sitting behind me.’
‘Then how does that give you a break?’ I tried to hide how high my spirits leapt at being invited to hang out more with Beckett.
‘Maybe having someone to offer moral support will help more than trying to find something productive to do by myself, while stressing about what’s happening at home.’
‘Okay. I take your point. So, let’s do both. Build it up slowly while I get to know Gramps and you remember what it is you like doing. Go to the gym, do a food shop, whatever. I don’t believe you can’t think of something. Then when you’re back, we can work on costumes together.’
‘Okay.’
‘Okay?’
‘I mean, I think Bob would miss me if you insisted we stopped being friends.’
‘And you can’t do that to Bob.’
I hovered for a moment, enjoying the easy warmth that accompanied an amicable conclusion. Still bewildered about how a random taxi driver had suddenly become one of the most important people in my new life.
‘Tuesday morning?’
‘Perfect. I won’t have had the costume list from Cheris and Carolyn yet, but I could help you look for a new home carer?’
‘Perfect. We’ll pick you up about nine. Gramps wakes up with the sun, and I’m guessing Bob isn’t one for lie-ins. Now, get some sleep while it’s all quiet.’
‘You, too.’
Perfect.
* * *
Up until becoming friends with Kieran and Shay, I’d thought about clothes far less than the average thirteen-year-old.
My parents considered focusing on outward appearance to be a shallow, selfish waste of money.
I grew up wearing whatever they could grab in the local charity shop, with no one to help me appreciate that the way we presented ourselves to the world could matter – both to how we felt about ourselves, and how people saw us.
My parents’ couldn’t-care-less dowdiness sent as strong a message as the person with a five-figure handbag.