Sixty - Seven

When Mike, Daryl and Hannah arrived home, they found Maggie sitting on a stool at the breakfast bar watching Pointless on the portable television. Daryl rushed forward and said:

‘You almost killed us when you gave us a lift from school.’

Hannah glared at her brother. She was worried that if he exaggerated their story about her drunken driving, then she wouldn’t believe them.

Mike went over and laid a hand on her shoulder, and looked at her with concern. ‘We need to have a serious talk, Maggs. All of us.’

Hannah screwed her face into a frown as she caught her mother’s defensive expression, frightened as a cornered animal.

‘Mum,’ she began. ‘Mummy...’

Daryl threw his sister a look that was both scathing and pitying. Hannah took a deep breath and continued.

‘Can’t you remember what happened? You were swerving and nearly hit one of those things in the middle of the road.’

‘Bollard,’ said Daryl. ‘We were so frightened you were going to kill us, we jumped out at the lights. You must have been going along St. John’s Road at...’

He paused as he caught the anxious look in Mike’s eyes. ‘You were doing over fifty miles an hour.’

Mike stared at the boy and gave him an almost imperceptible nod of approval. It was hard to believe anyone could do that speed during the school run, but at least it was an improvement on the boy’s previous embellishment when they discussed it at his grandparents’ house.

‘You really don’t remember, do you?’ Mike said gently. ‘Have you discovered what you did with the car yet?’

Maggie nodded slowly, her eyes watery and distant. ‘I vaguely remembered going up to The Compasses for a drink. This must have been after...’

She stopped and stared at the children, and Mike was worried that she might realise she hadn’t picked them up from school. She shook her head and frowned deeply, troubled by random thoughts of her movements that day.

‘So where was the car?’ Mike prompted.

‘Just off Mount Sion.’

‘That’s nearly all double yellow lines round there. I expect you got a ticket.’

‘I didn’t. I know it’s hard to believe, having left it on yellow lines for so long, but I just got lucky I guess.’

Mike gave a short sharp sigh. ‘You were also lucky you didn’t have a major accident in the car. And you’re lucky Daryl and Hannah are still in one piece.’

Hannah, knowing it was time to pull out all the stops and deliver an Oscar-winning performance, stared at her mother with wide Bambi eyes, saying, ‘Mum, please don’t do it any more. Please. If something happened to you...’

She left the sentence unfinished, instinctively allowing it to do its work.

Maggie’s eyes, Mike noticed, suddenly hardened with the irrational resolve of an alcoholic.

‘I’ll be careful,’ she said, ‘not to drink too much next time I drive. I really won’t drink and drive. I promise.’

Mike felt anger rising inside him. ‘It’s not just the drinking and driving. It’s taken you over. You’re not the same any more. And you’re a danger to your children. Next time it might be something you do in the home. For Christ’s sake, Maggie, one morning you might wake up and you might have done something terrible - maybe not intentionally - but you won’t remember what you did. How could you live the rest of your life with the knowledge that you might have harmed your children.’

Maggie suddenly slumped forward on the breakfast bar, her head in her hands, choking and sobbing. ‘I’m sorry. I’ll try and get help. I really will. But I need...’ She turned her tear-stained face up towards Mike. ‘I can’t do this on my own. I need you to help me, Mike. I’m frightened.’

Mike threw an arm across her shoulder and squeezed. ‘It’s OK. I’ll organise something. We can start with your doctor’s surgery. They’ll be able to help.’

Maggie shook her head forcefully. ‘But not one of those group therapies. I couldn’t stand that. Alcoholics Anonymous.’ She shivered hugely. ‘Maybe some counselling. Just you and me.’

Mike let his breath out slowly, relieved that at least she had acknowledged she had a problem. It was a start.

‘OK,’ he said. ‘We could both do with some help from a professional. We’ll be fine, Maggie. We’ll be fine.’

When Mike caught Daryl’s eye, he noticed the boy was looking at him without his usual sullen expression. He could have been mistaken, but Mike almost thought he could interpret it as admiration.

***

Mary had spent most of the day tidying the house in preparation for the first visit from a potential buyer. Two days it had been on the market and already the estate agent had telephoned to make an appointment, telling them it was a single man and a cash buyer.

While they waited in the kitchen, staring across the table at each other, wondering what to say to kill the time, Dave and Mary recognised that neither of them wanted to move. It was fear that was driving them away.

As if she was hyperventilating nervously, Mary blew out a deep breath.

‘What’s wrong?’ asked Dave.

‘You know what’s wrong. We’re both running away. Neither of us want to live in Blackpool.’

‘But I thought...’Dave began, frowning uncomprehendingly.

‘Yes, yes!’ said Mary, impatiently. ‘They sentenced Ronnie to a year, and he could be out in nine months. Then what? It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

Dave opened his mouth to speak, but there was a ring on the door.

‘That’ll be him,’ said Mary. She glanced at her watch. ‘Talk about punctual.’

When Dave opened the front door, he immediately realised he’d had preconceived ideas about what the prospective buyer would look like. He’d been expecting someone more professional looking. This man looked like the sort of bloke who always dresses in sports clothes but never exercises. He wore Addidas track suit bottoms, the elastic waistband being stretched to an optimistic level of support by an enormous beer belly, and a purple polo shirt. His arms displayed a plethora of tattoos, and a shaved head dominated an otherwise insipid red face.

‘Mr. Whitby?’ he said.

Dave nodded, trying not to look too taken aback. ‘You must be - er - Mr Caven?’

‘Please. Call me Terry.’

Dave smiled and stepped aside for the man to enter. ‘I’m Dave. Come in.’

As he entered the man put out his hand. ‘Good to meet you, Dave.’

Dave tried not to let the agony of the bone-crushing handshake show. Recovering, he shut the front door. Mary emerged from the kitchen.

‘This is Terry,’ said Dave. ‘This is my other half - Mary.’

The man grinned and looked Mary up and down. ‘Good to meet you, sweetheart.’

Dave gestured towards the living room. ‘Shall we start with the lounge?’

As the three of them stood in the living room, and Dave and Mary took it in turns to explain what everything was, the man seemed remote and disinterested. Dave was explaining about why the electricity meter was housed in a cupboard next to the fireplace when the man interrupted him.

‘So why are you selling the place?’

Dave looked towards Mary before replying. ‘We’ve - er - decided we’re going to settle up north.’

The man smiled and looked Dave in the eye. ‘Don’t I know you from somewhere?’

Dave blushed slightly. ‘Well, years ago I used to be on the telly. I’m a stand-up comedian. But I’m sure you’re too young to remember.’

The man’s grin got wider. ‘That’s the great thing about DVDs and all these other channels now. You can catch up on the oldies.’

Dave laughed uncomfortably, and was about to commence with his explanation about the meter, when the man leapt in again, almost as though the house was incidental to his interest.

‘So you’re going back up home, are you?’

Dave frowned. ‘Sorry?’

‘Well, you’re from up north. I detect the accent.’

Dave tittered foolishly. ‘Well, I’m from Yorkshire, but actually we’re going to settle in Lancashire.’

‘Oh? Whereabouts?’

‘We’re looking to settle in Blackpool. Or somewhere near there.’

The man nodded thoughtfully. Dave gestured towards the door.

‘Shall we take a look at the rest of the house?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘I only came round to give you a message from Ronnie. See, him and me’s great mates, and he guessed you might move out the district. So he sent me round to find out where. Job done. He says one way or the other he can find out where you bugger off to. So it’s no good trying to avoid him. And he told me to tell you, nine 0r ten months’ll go by just like that.’

The man clicked his fingers and walked to the door. He turned back and stared at Mary, whose face was drawn.

‘Ronnie said you was a looker. He was right. No wonder he don’t want to let you go. Some things are meant to be, eh?’

The man walked into the hall and let himself out as Mary clutched Dave’s arm and tears sprang into her eyes.

‘Oh my God, Dave! I’m scared. I’ve never been so scared. Even from prison he’s got a hold on me.’