The new son, p.5
The New Son, page 5
Liam moves closer and puts his arm around my shoulders, saying in a quiet voice that he understands. I rest my head on his shoulder once more, and as I do, I feel that Chloe is watching. I turn around, but she has already gone into the amusements. I relax a little, for now, but I have the sense that this – Liam and me being together – is going to escalate oh so fast into dangerous territory.
It does, later this evening, as we sit around the table having chili con carne for our tea. Gary is tired and irritable after a long day’s window cleaning. Chloe sits there, upright and smiling, waiting for her moment. I am tense and nervous, feeling trapped, dropping knives and forks more than once, and annoying Gary although he does not say anything. I am a mouse in the corner, waiting for the cat to strike.
I had a lovely afternoon with Liam. We walked all the way along the promenade, by the theatre, down to a place called The Dip, where we sat and ate ice cream and watched the boats go in and out of Felixstowe Docks. We chatted about 101 things. We really do have so much in common. Music. Books. Fashion, even. We then walked back and parted company at the pier with a long hug and promises to see each other again, same time tomorrow. Liam went to his bed and breakfast further along the promenade. I returned home to start doing the tea. I sat down for a while first, tired out, and worrying about Chloe.
Gary and Chloe came in together just before six. I wondered if Chloe had waited outside for Gary so she could tell him about Liam before they entered the house. But I think the timing was just coincidence. He was hot and edgy. She just kept smirking. I could see she was bursting to say something, to drop me in it with Gary, who would never let the matter lie until he knew everything. And so, as I sipped at a glass of fizzy water, I braced myself for Chloe’s opening words.
She looks at me and smiles brightly. I gaze back, blank-faced. Gary has his face in his plate, shovelling away, one forkful of chili con carne after the other. Like it’s his last-ever meal.
“How’s Liam?” she asks, her face full of innocence. “Is he not coming for tea, then?”
I ignore her and start eating, as though I have not really heard the questions.
“Who’s Liam?” Gary says, looking at Chloe and then at me. The moment of truth. I could lie and hope it never comes out. God help me if it does. Gary will be furious.
Or I could tell the truth. I cannot do that here and now. If ever. It would change everything between Gary and me in a flash. I want to stay in control of my relationship with Liam.
“I’ll tell you later,” I reply, answering him, giving myself time to think more, to decide what to say, when Chloe is not sitting here, taking it all in. Gary pulls a ‘whatever’ face.
Chloe won’t let it go, though. I know what she is going to say next even before she speaks. And it is going to turn everything nasty regardless of what I say.
“Liam …” she says, her voice raised and breathless excitement on her face, “was here in the house yesterday, and Nina was with him on the beach this afternoon.”
I hope that is that. It’s bad enough. But there is more, a sharp twist of the knife. “Nina had her head on his shoulder. He had his arms around her.”
There is such a silence. Gary has a forkful of food halfway between his plate and mouth. It stays there, his hand trembling ever so slightly.
Chloe tosses her hair back, taking an elastic band from her pocket and tying her hair in a ponytail. She does not look at me, but her face is shiny and smug. I hate her for this.
I know I should shout out, He’s my son, Liam. My long-lost son. And I love him with all of my heart! But it will make matters so much worse. And so I wait.
Gary puts his fork back on the plate, sits for a moment and then speaks with his head bowed. “Who is he?” His voice sounds calm, but underneath I can tell he is bristling with tension.
I understand why. Gary has had a hard life. He had a difficult childhood as an only child with a violent father and a drunken mother. He is estranged from his family. His wife cheated on him with different men before she left. He has a job he hates and little money. He does not feel good about himself. He takes it out on those around him with his anger and aggression. I can say Liam is my son, but Gary will rant and rave, saying I have lied to him all this time (which I have) and that it is horrible to find out like this (true) and I think more of this Liam than I do of him (which is correct). And then what?
I have seen him lose control once. It was when he discovered his ex-wife was planning to remarry, to the man she’s currently living with. He came back from dropping Chloe there, and was in such a filthy mood, barely able to get the words out. He then went to mow the lawn, but the lawnmower did not work properly, so he trashed it, smashing it repeatedly against the back wall of the garage. It was funny in a way, but frightening, too; he could easily have come at me. The lawnmower was completely wrecked, and that seemed to satisfy him. I have that image in my mind as I answer him.
“He’s, ah, what is it, my cousin’s son. Liam … second cousin? I met him for the first time in years yesterday. Out of the blue. When he came to the house. Then, when I was walking on the prom, I saw him again.” I glance at them. He believes it. She doesn’t. Not a word. “We got talking. He’s, ah, troubled. He’s, ah, bipolar, poor boy. Nervy. And so I talked to him.”
“Bipolar?” Gary asks, and I kind of sense that he’s thinking that doesn’t sound good, that maybe I – we – should be careful, not really understanding what it means. So I pull back a little, saying that he’s a sweet boy, very gentle and just anxious. ‘Wouldn’t hurt a fly!’
Gary nods agreeably enough. My white lie has made him feel he is better than Liam and can look down on him, so that is helpful, at least for now. Chloe looks at me with disbelief, as though she is going to slow hand-clap. Before she can, Gary says, in a positive voice, that Liam must come to tea tomorrow. And so, we carry on eating, and that, for now, is that. I don’t doubt there is more to come from Chloe soon, most likely when I least expect it.
The evening passes as it normally does. We finish our tea and go our separate ways for a while. I do the dishwasher and the washing machine. Gary writes down his takings and spendings for the day. He showers. I have a bath. We sit and watch television for the rest of the evening. Chloe goes to a friend’s house over on the Trimley St Mary estate. She’s due back at ten o’clock.
We’re watching a crime drama on BBC iPlayer. Gary likes to complete a series over two or three nights. I’m happy to relax and go with it. I sometimes ask who a character is or what is happening, if I know he is in an agreeable mood. Tonight he is, and he explains everything to me, all quite cheerfully, albeit as though I am a complete idiot. He is so patronising. He rests his hand on my arm and, later, makes us hot milky coffees and brings them through on a tray with a bar of chocolate to share. White chocolate, which I hate. He says he’ll turn the series off after this second episode in case I fall asleep. I do sometimes.
He does not seem angry about Liam – my so-called second cousin – at all. Instead, now and then, he asks questions about him. Where he lives. Blah, blah. What his parents do. Blah, blah. Whether they are rich. He says it so casually, but he does not fool me. Gary always has ideas for get-rich-quick schemes every couple of months. They go wrong. People are angry. I bail him out with my savings. He promises not to do it again. But he is always seeking someone who has a lot of money, who will back his next scheme. I say I think Liam’s family are rich. I can almost hear Gary purring with pleasure.
Then, suddenly, so unexpected and loud that we both jump, startled, there is knocking at the door. It is urgent and insistent. And it’s that, the aggression of it, that makes me panic, fearing something terrible is happening.
It cannot be Chloe. She has a key. Even if she forgot it, she’d not hammer at the door like that. Someone to whom Gary owes money, then. We’ve had that twice before, debt collectors, Gary borrowing my debit card and hurrying to the nearest ATM in Felixstowe for cash whilst they waited impatiently outside by his van, ready to take his possessions. It was embarrassing and so shaming.
Gary, suddenly furious, swears loudly and goes by me, striding to the front door. I get up to follow him, ready to placate whoever is there. Gary, too. He is always aggressive, all five feet six and a half inches of him. He wrenches open the door, head jutting forward, on the front foot as ever.
It is Liam standing there, in his tee shirt, jeans and trainers. There is mud on his face, his tee shirt is torn, his jeans are muddy and so too are his white trainers; these are really filthy. He looks as though he has been in a fight. He stumbles forward onto his knees at Gary’s feet. I notice he does not have his rucksack with him, and it strikes me suddenly that he has been beaten up and had his belongings stolen by a local gang of youths. Liam is a slight young man; he has a gentle, almost feminine look about him and would be an easy target.
Gary looks at him, then back at me, as if asking, Is this him, is this Liam? I nod, to answer ‘yes, yes, it is’. And Gary is bending over, appearing concerned and sympathetic, and helping him to his feet. Liam seems confused, uncertain where he is and what he is doing. He is about to speak, and I have the sudden fear he will say Mum. He does not. Instead, he goes down onto one knee as though he has been punched in his stomach. Then, in a voice full of pain, he says he’s sorry, really sorry, to come here.
“I was moving from my bed and breakfast to …” He stops, grimacing and breathing carefully. “To another place … a bit nicer … but I was set upon and dragged into the bushes.” He fights back tears, embarrassed, I think, and ashamed he could not fight them off. “I’ve had everything taken, my phone, money, all of it. I’m sorry … I had nowhere else to turn.”
Gary and I help him onto the sofa. He sits there, his face twisting in pain. Gary says we should call an ambulance. Liam says it’s okay and there are no broken bones; he just needs a few minutes to recover, that’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks. The police, then? Liam shakes his head.
Despite what’s happening, the seriousness of it, I still make polite introductions, being sure to say clearly, ‘And this is Liam, my second cousin I told you about, from Chelmsford way.’ I hope Liam hears and takes in what I am saying.
He seems to, trying to get to his feet, to be polite, to shake Gary’s hand. But Gary puts his arms around Liam and settles him back on the sofa. “We’ll run you a bath, wash your clothes, put you in the spare room, talk about the police in the morning.”
And that’s what we do. Gary helps Liam up the stairs, along the landing to the bedroom at the back of the house. There is a single bed, and – although the room is full of all sorts of junk, as spare rooms often are – it will do for now. I hurry to the airing cupboard for fresh bedding. We stand over Liam as he sits on the edge of the bed, insisting he will be fine and he can sort himself out.
I ask if he’s eaten, and he says he has. I fetch him a glass of water and come back to put it on the bedside cabinet. Gary is out of the room, and at that moment, Liam looks at me and smiles. It’s almost a smirk. I don’t know why, but it looks odd, and it makes me feel uneasy. Before either of us can say anything, Gary is back with tee shirts and jogging bottoms and socks and puts them at the end of the bed. Liam says thank you.
Then, as we all stand there, Liam getting to his feet as though to undress, we hear the front door swinging open and Chloe’s heavy footsteps running up the stairs. There is a moment’s silence as we wait to see if she goes to the bathroom or her room. As the light is on in here, she pushes open the door and stands there looking at us. She bursts out laughing at the sight of the three of us together. It is a nasty sound. Gary says, “What’s” – but she is already turning and leaving before he can say – “so funny?” He shakes his head.
I don’t know what to think. I have a sense of growing unease deep down inside that all of us here in the house is a combustible mix ready to explode .
4
WEDNESDAY, 5 JULY, EARLY MORNING
Liam lies in bed late this morning. I check on him several times to make sure he is well. He breathes peacefully. I stand and watch him awhile, each time transfixed. I brush his hair away from his eyes. He has long eyelashes, so long that they curl back over.
Gary and Chloe both left later than usual, each of them finding things that just had to be done first. Stuff and nonsense. They both wanted to see Liam when he came downstairs. Eventually, they both had to go. Gary said, “Keep me posted.”
Just gone ten o’clock, and I am sitting at the table at the far end of the kitchen, checking news on my phone, sipping tea, eating toast and jam, and staring out at the conifers that line the back of the garden, shielding it from the fields beyond. They need cutting, but that’s a thought for another day. Liam comes in, wearing Gary’s spare clothes, smiling at me. We hug, and he kisses me on the cheek and then sits opposite me at the table, taking my last piece of toast. I laugh. A happy moment.
“How are you?” I say. “Sleep well?” As he nods to confirm, I add, “Would you like a fry-up? Bacon, eggs, sausages?”
He nods again. More enthusiastically.
“I washed your clothes and dried them.” I busy around the kitchen, getting a frying pan out, switching on the kettle. “Are you still in pain? Do you want me to call the police … report it?”
“No.” He pulls up the tee shirt to show his chest and stomach. “No lasting damage. I just don’t have any money or my things.” I tell him not to worry about that. Not to worry about anything. I want to add, “ever again,” but stop myself. Too much, too soon.
He sits at the kitchen table, eating the breakfast I’ve made for him, whilst I fetch his tee shirt and jeans. He says Gary and Chloe both seem nice and friendly. It sounds more like a question. I reply that they are, and leave it at that. I don’t really want to talk about them. He asks how I am, and I say I am fine, thank you.
Liam then looks out across the garden, and I can see he is working out what to say next. I jump in, anticipating his question and repeating, “Listen, don’t worry about losing your money, your phone, your cards. Clothes. Whatever. I can let you have money … as much as you need.” I hesitate and go on, handing him my phone and reminding him of the passcode. “You’d better call … your folks, let them know you’re okay. And your bank, to get your cards blocked. Do that first, it’s really important. In case someone’s running around, spending on it.”
He takes my phone and says he’ll do it straight after his shower. He continues eating. I stand there, not sure what else to say. He says, in his matter-of-fact way, “You’ve told Gary and Chloe I’m your, what was it, second cousin?” He laughs, but it’s not a nice, warm sound. I can tell it bothers him. Like I have disowned him.
I sit down. “I … Gary would be so … I … I …” I stop, my voice stuttering, tears in my eyes. I want to say Gary would be so angry and upset, but don’t want to admit that. I hope Liam will reach out his hand, but he does not.
“I’ve never told anyone about you in my whole life … which …” I take a deep breath, steadying myself. “… is crazy, really … because you have been my … whole … life.” I choke on my words.
He leans forward, pushes the chair between us to one side and hugs me long and hard. “Stay a while?” I ask. He nods yes, and at that my emotions get the better of me. I break down and sob in his arms.
Later, after he has showered and made his calls and given me back my phone, we sit in the living room and chat some more, mostly about things to do together. I make a pot of tea and bring it through on a tray with mugs and spoons and milk and sugar and a half-left packet of shortbread fingers. He demolishes the biscuits as I talk. I ask him how long he can stay, and he says, “The summer … if you like …?”
I am overjoyed and say we can go into Ipswich today and get him some new clothes and a phone. He says his cards are being sent to his home address. I reply not to worry, and that I’ll pay for everything. I’d be happy to.
Then, he says he’s going to pop to his bed and breakfast place, as he thinks he might have left a book behind. We agree he will return at midday, and we will head off and have lunch in Ipswich before shopping there. I put two keys in his hand, one for the front door and one for the back – the kitchen – and kiss him on the cheek as he goes out that kitchen door. He then stops before he gets to the garden gate, coming back and hugging me properly. “Thank you for the keys.” I think he sees it as a symbolic gesture, and I suppose, in a way, it is.
When he’s gone, I text Gary. I tell him Liam wants to stay for a while … ‘if that’s okay?’
Gary replies: ‘Yes. If he pays for himself.’
I say he will. I have a secret bank account that Gary knows nothing about, and will let Liam have some money from that. I don’t mention I am paying for new clothes and a phone today. Gary wouldn’t like that.
I lie on the sofa and daydream about how my life will now be. Somehow, my thoughts are full of Liam and me, being together and doing things and feeling happy. Sitting in the sunny garden. Days out. Holidays in lovely places. I even think of Ryan and imagine he is part of my new family. Gary and Chloe are not part of any of it. And I wonder what will happen when my daydreams and realities collide, as they are sure to do one day soon.
I look idly at my phone, at the photo I snatched of Liam as he left. I can’t stop staring at it. I must ask him if I can take a selfie of the two of us. I’d like a framed photo on a cabinet or a wall. But Gary would be jealous and, anyway, that would look odd for a ‘second cousin’. I’d keep it on my phone, hidden away, for me to look at now and then.
That reminds me. Curious, I click on the phone icon on my phone’s home screen, interested to see if Liam phoned home. It comes up ‘No recent calls’, which puzzles me. I wonder if he deleted the call details. Before I can think about it, Liam is bang-bang-banging cheerfully on a window and coming back in through the kitchen, ready to go to Ipswich.
