Phyllis woke on Friday morning to find that Stan had his arms wrapped around her, and contented, she let her mind drift as she savoured the warmth of their close contact. She hoped that Tommy wasn’t any worse that morning. With him being ill and a baby to look after, Amy had a lot on her plate, and at that thought, Phyllis decided to ring Rose to ask for the day off. She knew that her cousin wouldn’t mind, and still thanked her lucky stars for the day that Rose had offered her the job. There had been a time when money was so tight that she’d half starved herself to make the food go round, but nowadays she hardly ever had to watch the pennies. In fact, Phyllis thought, she’d never been so well off – or so happy.
There was a snort and a grunt as Stan woke up, his arms tightening around her. Stan was ready for a bit of loving that morning and Phyllis was happy to oblige, so it was another half an hour before she got up to wash and dress before going downstairs to prepare his breakfast.
When he too came downstairs, Phyllis was ready to place a plate of eggs, bacon and fried bread in front of him. He licked his lips, grinned and said, ‘Now that looks good enough to eat, but so do you. How about we go back to bed?’
‘Don’t be daft. You’ll be late for work.’
‘It’d be worth it,’ he said, winking cheekily.
‘Just eat your breakfast,’ Phyllis admonished as she poured their drinks and sat down too, happy to munch on a piece of toast. When Stan left for work she’d pop round to Amy’s and use her telephone to ring Rose. If Tommy was really rough, she’d volunteer to look after Bobby for the day, and the weekend if necessary.
Not that it was any hardship, she thought, smiling softly.
Amy awoke to the sound of someone knocking on the door. She looked quickly at Tommy, then Robert in his cot, saw that they were both still asleep, so quickly put on her dressing gown and hurried downstairs.
‘Now there’s a sight,’ Jeremy commented when she opened it. ‘I must have got you out of bed.’
‘What do you want?’ Amy asked bluntly.
‘I’m on my way to the unit, but I thought I’d pop in to see how Tommy is.’
‘He had a restless night and he’s still asleep,’ she said, but then heard Robert crying.
Jeremy must have heard him too because he pushed the door wider to step inside and Amy was fuming when he followed her upstairs. She picked Robert up to soothe him and saw that Tommy was waking up too.
‘Hello, mate, how are you?’ Jeremy asked him.
Tommy blinked and looked a bit confused to see his brother in the room, but then he began to cough again and it was Jeremy who moved forward to prop him up. ‘That’s it, Tom. Get it up.’
‘Thanks,’ Tommy gasped.
‘I called in to see how you are, and you’re certainly not fit for work today.’
‘No, sorry, I’m not, but hopefully I’ll be back on my feet soon.’
‘Don’t worry, Tom, until you are we can manage fine without you,’ Jeremy said.
Robert was wailing again and Amy knew that he was hungry as well as needing a nappy change, but Tommy said, ‘I need a drink of water.’
‘It’s all right, Amy. I’ll see to Tom while you sort the nipper out,’ Jeremy said.
Amy nodded, took Robert downstairs where she changed his nappy and then sat down to feed him. A few minutes later she heard footsteps on the stairs and quickly covered herself, flushing when Jeremy came near to look down on them. She hated his close proximity and hissed, ‘I think you should leave now.’
‘Tom wants a cup of tea and as you’re a bit busy, I’ll make it,’ he said, his voice then lowering as he added, ‘I also thought I’d take a look at my son.’
‘He isn’t yours! He’s Tommy’s,’ Amy said, quietly yet forcefully.
‘You know that isn’t true,’ Jeremy said, crouching down in front of her. ‘I’m playing the role of his uncle, but I’m much more than that.’
‘You are his uncle,’ Amy insisted, though she couldn’t meet Jeremy’s eyes.
‘You can deny it all you like, but it won’t stop me loving my son. Or you.’
Fearful that Tommy would hear, Amy struggled to keep her voice from rising. ‘You can’t say that. You mustn’t say that. I’m Tommy’s wife and I love him, so please, please, just go away and leave us alone,’ Amy appealed.
Thankfully Jeremy rose to his feet. He gently touched the top of Robert’s head, then hers. ‘I wish I could, but I can’t stay away from you. I’ll make that tea now,’ he said, at last moving away.
Amy was left trembling as she continued to feed Robert. Instead of leaving them alone, Jeremy was becoming almost predatory. She feared that one day he would snap and tell Tommy the truth.
Jeremy made a pot of tea, his mind twisting and turning. When he saw the intimate scene of Amy feeding the baby, he wanted so much to take on the true role of Robert’s father. It could never be, and knowing that, his guts churned.
Dark thoughts filled Jeremy’s mind, memories of the time when Tom had been so ill that he’d nearly died. Could it happen again? Would this bout of bronchitis turn to pneumonia, and if it did, maybe Tom wouldn’t survive this time. Amy would be free then, and surely she would turn to him? With a groan, Jeremy ran both hands over his face. What sort of man was he? He was wishing his brother dead, yet the thought of going on like this, of having to sit on the periphery of his son’s life and eventually hear Robert calling his brother daddy, was more than he could take.
With the tea made, Jeremy poured two cups, giving one to Amy and seeing her tight, tense expression as she continued to feed Robert. She murmured her thanks, but didn’t meet his eyes before he went upstairs. Tom was dozing, his face wan, and for a moment Jeremy just stood, looking down on him, wishing that Tom’s eyes would never open again.
Black thoughts filled Jeremy’s mind again; jealousy, resentment and hate. He put the cup of tea on the bedside cabinet and then his hands, as though acting under their own volition, reached out to pull one of the pillows from under Tom’s head. As his brother’s eyes opened, filled with confusion, Jeremy pushed the pillow over his face, pressing down and smothering Tom’s cries while hissing, ‘Robert’s mine! My son! Not yours!’
What he hadn’t expected was that Tom would have the strength to fight, but he did, clawing at the pillow as his legs flailed. It didn’t stop Jeremy. He felt distant, removed from the act as he continued to push down, impervious to the muted bellows he could hear, and though Tom’s arm was wildly flapping, knocking the cup and saucer onto the floor, he was barely aware of it.
‘What are you doing! No! No! Stop it! Stop it!’
Jeremy’s head snapped round and in seconds Amy was on him, pulling, scratching, yelling, tearing at his hands. It was only then that he came to his senses, and as he flung himself away Amy dragged the pillow from Tom’s face.
Amy cried out, while Jeremy, unable to look at what he had done, fled. He almost fell down the stairs, but moments later yanked the street door open, nearly colliding with Amy’s mother before he dived into his car.
Jeremy’s head was pounding, felt like it was going to explode as he drove off, accelerating dangerously. He had killed his own brother! He’d hang for murder!
Foot still down, Jeremy drove straight out onto the main road and into the path of an oncoming lorry. The crash of impact, the sickening crunch of metal on metal, searing, agonising pain and his own screams, were the last sounds that Jeremy heard.