Given Time Page 10

  ‘Yeah, but this is different, and Kee’s already here,’ Drew began. He turned to me. ‘By the way, can you make it for two weeks’ time?’

  ‘I should be able to,’ I said, trying to hide my lack of enthusiasm, ‘but if you’re going to have a party tonight, I wouldn’t tell anybody why just yet.’ I told them what Gail had said about unreasonable demands and finding out who your true friends are, suggesting again that it might be better to wait. I realised I was starting to sound like a prophet of doom, and apologised, but I explained it was only because I’d had the time to think, and that they were bound to get a different perspective if they did the same.

  Drew looked disappointed, but as Amy talked sense to him I could see she was going to be a very good influence on my brother. I exchanged smiles with her as I thought, not for the first time, that he was a very lucky man, and that in turn I was fortunate to have her as part of the family.

  ‘Have you decided what you’re going to do?’ she asked me.

  ‘Not really. Or at least not long term.’ I told them it still felt odd not having to work for a living, but for now I was going to take time to enjoy myself. I told them about San Francisco and that I wanted to go back at some stage, but that I’d decided to fly south for the winter to Australia.

  ‘Oh, you should go to New Zealand,’ Amy said. ‘You’ll love it.’

  ‘Yeah, I plan to. It’s pretty much the same place, isn’t it?’

  ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I can’t remember the exact distance, but it’s about the same as from here to Turkey. Culturally, they’re very different.’

  Amy had been there before she’d met Drew, and for several minutes she told us, with growing enthusiasm, about her adventures, making it sound so idyllic that by the time she had finished I’d added it as a priority to my provisional itinerary.

  We had planned to go out for lunch, and to walk the short distance to their favourite pub, but since I’d arrived it had started raining and showed no sign of letting up so we climbed into Amy’s car. Her Fiat had seen better days, and I reflected that a new car for her was a much bigger priority than Drew’s F-Type, but I kept the thought to myself.

  Having ordered food, we sat at a window table, clinking glasses, while the downpour spattered the other side of the panes.

  Amy gazed out over the sodden car park. ‘Right now, a nice warm holiday looks like a very good idea. How about the Caribbean?’

  ‘Sounds good to me,’ said Drew. ‘When do you want to go?’

  She glanced back at the streaming windows. ‘Now!’

  A silence fell between us as we ate our lunch, and I guessed from their wistful expressions that they were dreaming of tropical beaches. I took the opportunity to broach the subject that had been playing on my mind. ‘Look, I hate to drag you back to reality, Drew, but I need to talk to you about Dad.’

  He pulled exactly the face I had expected, and I knew this conversation was going to be difficult. Our father had left home when I was eight and Drew was four, for a woman twenty-five years his junior and just under ten years my senior. The split from our mother had been acrimonious, leaving her bitter and without a good word to say for him. She never missed an opportunity to run him down in front of us, and she fought for all her worth to prevent him from seeing us. For his part, Dad was so wrapped up in his trophy wife that he didn’t insist on regular visits with his children, so we only got to see him two or three times a year.

  That turned out to be two or three times a year too many for everyone involved. Mum hated that we had to see Dad at all; Dad loathed having to suffer the tirade of abuse he endured every time he came to collect us; our new stepmother, Beth, resented having to deal with her husband’s baggage; and Drew and I dutifully detested her. Not that she made it difficult: we were an unwelcome intrusion into her home, and she always made sure we knew it. Somewhere along the way, Drew had accidentally mispronounced her name in a way we both found hilarious, and out of earshot we had forever after referred to her and our father as Dad and Death.

  Amy picked up on Drew’s expression and gave me a sympathetic shrug but said nothing. She was well aware of his antipathy to his father and stepmother. Drew had stopped visiting them as soon as he had turned sixteen, when he had been allowed to make that decision for himself. I didn’t blame him for that. After all, he had only the vaguest memories of the time Dad had been at home, whereas I would always remember being part of a happy family before the arguments started. I’d continued to visit sporadically, but even as an adult it hadn’t got any easier.

  ‘Yeah, yeah, I know,’ I said, responding to his pained expression. ‘I know you hate him, but he is the only other family you and I have got, and I really think I should give him a small share of my winnings.’

  His argument was just as I’d expected. ‘I don’t see why. He never gave us anything – other than pain. At any rate, you know exactly where it will go. You might as well give it straight to Death and cut out the middleman.’

  He had a point. Beth had been extremely high maintenance right from the start, sucking Dad dry and nearly costing him his business before she realised it would be the end of her meal ticket. Even so, she had only moderated her demands enough to keep him going.

  ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about,’ I said. ‘I was wondering if we could think of some way I could give him the money secretly, so she couldn’t get her hands on it.’

  ‘Unlikely. That scheming witch probably checks his bank accounts for every last penny. At any rate, he’d probably just give it to her, you know, to keep her quiet for a bit.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ I told him. ‘The last couple of times I was there, Dad seemed really unhappy. He might be looking for a way out, and the money could help him.’

  ‘He always seemed miserable to me.’

  I wanted to argue that there had been happy times, but there was no point if Drew could only recollect the misery. ‘Yeah, but not like this. He always complains about her, and I get the feeling they don’t sleep together anymore.’

  Drew laughed. ‘I don’t think they ever did. At least, not after they were married. I remember on one of our first visits, I was running about upstairs exploring, you know, like little kids do. I’d been in one room and seen all Dad’s things in there, but then I found her in another room making her bed, before she shooed me away. I’ve only just put it together, but that room was full of her stuff. That’s probably why she never let us go upstairs again after that.’

  I suddenly felt truly sorry for my father. ‘Do you think I could buy her off?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe. But I wouldn’t tell her you’ve got twenty million, she’d probably demand half of it.’

  I couldn’t help laughing. ‘Do you think she might go if I gave her a million?’

  ‘She might, but if she knew you were giving Dad some too, she’d probably try to get her claws into that as well.’

  ‘Yeah, I’m sure you’re right. I just don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Can I say something?’ Amy asked, her voice echoing the uncertainty in her expression.

  ‘Of course you can,’ I told her, while Drew nodded.

  She began tentatively. ‘Well, you know I love you guys, and I don’t want to speak out of turn.’

  ‘Don’t worry, we won’t shoot you,’ Drew assured her.

  I agreed. ‘Yeah, you know you can say anything to us.’

  ‘It’s just that I think you’re being very one-sided about this. I know it’s natural because you hate the woman, but you don’t know for sure your dad is unhappy. Perhaps he is, but he’s stayed with her for a long time. I’m sure he could have left her if he really wanted to, so he might not want you to buy her off.’

  ‘It’s possible he feels trapped,’ I suggested. ‘Maybe he’s worried he would lose everything if he left her.’

  Amy chose her words carefully. ‘I don’t really see that. After all, he risked losing everything when he left your mum, but he still did it.’
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br />   Drew bristled. ‘That’s because he was thinking with his dick. He didn’t give a shit about Mum or us.’

  Amy grimaced, and I could see she was having difficulty in deciding whether she should say any more.

  ‘It’s alright,’ I told her, ‘you’re not hurting anyone’s feelings.’

  She smiled, but she was still reticent. ‘Look, I know you guys loved your mum, and I’m not saying anything against her, but you’ve only ever heard her side of the story. I might be wrong, but it usually takes two people to break up a marriage.’

  ‘Yeah, Dad and Death,’ Drew said sullenly.

  ‘Sure, right,’ Amy agreed, ‘but if your mum and dad had been truly happy, he wouldn’t have looked at Death, er… Beth, would he?’

  Drew started to snap back at her, and I told him to shut up. I could see the truth in what Amy was saying. Mum had poisoned our minds about Dad from the day he left, but when I thought back to some of the arguments I’d witnessed, I had recollections of Dad being defensive while she tore into him. The rows had started without warning, several weeks before my sixth birthday. I remembered it well, because I’d asked for a bicycle for my present, but when the grief had started, like all kids in that situation, I’d thought it was because I’d upset them. I’d been overjoyed when the bike arrived, but heartbroken when the arguments didn’t stop. Mostly, I hadn’t understood what they had been fighting about, but some arguments had been over trivial things, and now I thought about it I wondered just how difficult Mum had been to live with.

  ‘You’re absolutely right,’ I told Amy, and explained to them about the rows I’d witnessed. ‘I’m sorry you had to play devil’s advocate, but it’s done us good to get a different perspective.’

  Drew nodded, and pulled her towards him to kiss her forehead. ‘That’s why I love you. You’re so level-headed.’

  ‘You have your plus points, too,’ she said, caressing his neck.

  Some time passed while we tucked into our food before I said to Amy, ‘So, sis, what do you think I should do about Dad?’

  She gave a delighted smile at the familial reference, and became thoughtful. ‘Well, I think you shouldn’t try to be underhand. You should give it to them jointly, then if your dad wants to leave her it would be his choice. If she had half of it anyway, I don’t see how she could claim any more. But you never know, it might be just what they need to make them happy again.’

  Drew and I exchanged doubtful glances, but I could see the sense in what Amy was saying.

  ‘Can I ask you how much you were thinking of giving them?’ Her voice was tentative again.

  ‘A couple of million,’ I said. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Well, I think it’s only right that Drew gives them some too,’ she said, and I could see my brother bristling for another argument. ‘How about if you each gave them a million. That would be fair, wouldn’t it?’

  Drew opened his mouth to say something, but quickly closed it again. Something in his face changed, and he took me by surprise. ‘Why don’t we both give them a million and a half? If you want, you could tell them you only won ten million, and then it would look like you were splitting it fairly. Obviously we’re not going to tell them any different. Is that a good plan?’

  He directed the last question more to Amy than me, but I answered anyway. ‘Are you sure you want to do that? I mean, I’d be happy with it, but I don’t expect you to give that much. It’s very generous.’

  As I said it, a wave of guilt swept over me and I decided I’d probably misjudged Drew. I felt remorse for having not been more liberal with his share, and I resolved to find a way to make it up to him.

  ‘No, I’m cool with that,’ he said. ‘If it’s okay with you, Doll?’ he asked Amy.

  ‘I think that’s perfect,’ she said, and kissed his cheek.

  We each retreated into our thoughts, until Amy laughed into her hand. ‘Do you realise?’ she asked, and quickly lowered her voice as she glanced at her surroundings. ‘We’re sitting here talking about millions of pounds, and we’re discussing it like it was pocket money.’

  ‘I know,’ I said. ‘It takes a bit of getting used to, doesn’t it?’

  Eleven

  The following morning, I set off early for Stowmarket. There hadn’t been a direct train service until much later in the day, so I’d taken a taxi. In spite of that, and because there had been several stretches of roadworks, I hadn’t arrived in my home town until early afternoon.

  The long ride had given me a chance to reflect on the day before, and I was still feeling overjoyed for Drew that he was engaged to such a wonderful girl. To my relief, they had forgotten about having a party, and the rest of the day had been spent making plans for how they were going to spend their new fortune.

  Neither of them were concerned about keeping their jobs, but while Drew was happy to tell his bosses at the transport company he wouldn’t be back again, it had taken him a lot longer to persuade Amy that she didn’t need to give notice at the estate agency. Having settled that, they’d looked through a number of travel websites before deciding on Saint Lucia for their holiday. I’d shown them an air-taxi website, but they had both voiced concerns when they saw the prices, so I’d done some quick maths and shown them that even if they flew four or five times a year for the rest of their lives, it would make little impact on their new bank balance.

  ‘You have to remember you’re multi-millionaires now,’ I’d told them. ‘You’ve got enough money to last several lifetimes.’

  I had the taxi driver drop me in the town centre. After four hours of sitting I needed to stretch my legs, and to grab a bite to eat. The weather had improved considerably over the day before, so after lunch I opted to walk the couple of miles to my father’s house.

  As I approached I saw Beth doing some pruning in the front garden. From a distance, she looked attractive; close up, she looked better from a distance. She’d had more plastic surgery since I saw her last. Her nose was pencil thin, her lips were huge against her tiny chin, her forehead was as smooth as glass, and her eyes looked as though they had sunk back into her skull in submission. Her once brunette hair was now peroxide blonde and hung lifeless against her neck, while her breasts had been enlarged to a size that was bordering on unnatural. The first time I’d seen her, as a child of eight and before she’d revealed her attitude towards us, I’d thought she was very pretty, but now she just looked weird.

  She greeted me with undisguised hostility. ‘Oh, it’s you.’ Her voice was clipped, and had she been able to move her face, she would probably have sneered too.

  ‘Hello, Beth,’ I said, and added without inflection, ‘You’re looking good.’

  It amused me that she couldn’t work out if I was being sarcastic and didn’t know how to respond, but it was far too easy to bait her and the enjoyment quickly passed.

  ‘Is Dad inside?’ I asked.

  ‘He’s probably hiding in the conservatory with his newspaper. He’s far too lazy to help me,’ she complained.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, ‘I’ll go and find him.’

  ‘Well, I might have known you wouldn’t offer to help either. Like father, like son…’

  I ducked through the open front door before she had a chance to finish, and shook my head in the knowledge that it would never occur to her to treat me as a guest.

  Making my way towards the back of the house, I passed the foot of the stairs and had an idea that brought me to an abrupt stop. I took a step back and checked I could still see Beth in the garden, then I raced up the stairs two at a time. I’d recalled what Drew had told me about their living arrangements and I wanted to see for myself.

  I found the master bedroom, and it was like a scene from a showroom catalogue; a king-size bed was covered in a floral duvet with scatter cushions propped against the headboard, descending in size as they extended to almost halfway down the bed. At the foot of the bed, three teddy bears were arranged in a circle, their feet touching, facing each other as though the
y were in conference. I didn’t look in the cupboards, but the paraphernalia on the bedside cabinets and dressing table said this was clearly Beth’s room. A quick peek into the en-suite bathroom confirmed it. Every surface was covered with bottles and jars of beauty products. I had no idea what half of the stuff was or why she needed it, but I guessed there must have been several hundred items in there.

  If I was perturbed by that, there was more to come. The second bedroom resembled a storage warehouse for a fashion store. Built-in cupboards along one wall were obviously so crammed full of her things that some of the doors wouldn’t close properly, while the rest of the room had forgone any kind of bedding in favour of rack after rack of clothing – all of it female, and much of it brand new with labels still attached. The other end of the room had wall-to-wall shelving up to head height, filled to overflowing with her shoes.

  The third room was a repeat of the second, so much so that it would have been easy to believe I’d made a mistake and gone back into the room I’d just left. Only subtle differences in the clothes confirmed that this was, indeed, another storage area for her stuff, although this time half of the shelves were filled with a huge assortment of handbags.

  I found Dad’s room and it was tiny, un-cared for and uncaring about its appearance. There was barely enough room for his single bed and bedside table, while a small wardrobe at the far end looked so ill-fitting that I doubted the doors would open fully without hitting the end of the bed. It was clearly supposed to be a box room; the kind that developers made just big enough to accommodate a small bed so they could describe properties as four-bedroom houses instead of three. His duvet was covered in an unembellished light blue material and lay rumpled over the length of his bed, as though it had been thrown over carelessly. His bedside table contained a clock, a comb, a can of deodorant and a set of nail clippers.

  Feeling more depressed than I could have imagined, I made my way back downstairs, but before I reached the bottom Beth came through the front door.

  She saw me descending and yelled her outrage. ‘What do you think you’re doing? You know you’re not allowed upstairs.’