Pieces of My Heart (9 page)

‘To be honest, I think that’s a great idea. I could do with it myself. I always seem to put on weight in the autumn,’ I said, pinching the layer of flesh overhanging my jeans. ‘I’ll stock up on fruit this week.’

‘OK, great.’

I was pleased that Ali was taking an interest in something. And she was right: we did always have biscuits, chocolate and crisps in the house. Both Paul and I had a weakness for sweet things and we had been indulging it more than normal lately because the weather had turned so cold and a cup of tea is miserable without a chocolate biscuit to go with it. But I didn’t worry about it. I always put on weight in the winter and lost it in the spring. And the girls ate well: I cooked dinner, if I wasn’t working late, and it was always relatively healthy – and they were both slim, so I never worried about the odd bit of junk food.

‘Hold on a minute,’ Sarah said. ‘There are two children in this family and I don’t want to cut out all junk. I need something nice to eat when I’m watching TV. I need my mini-Crunchies, so don’t even think of not buying them.’

‘Fair enough. I’ll get you those, but I’ll cut out the crisps – you don’t need both.’

‘OK. Bobby’s actually really health-conscious, so I don’t mind eating more fruit. He said we should eat blueberries in the morning because they’re a super-fruit.’

‘I’ll put them on the list.’

‘I also want to cycle to school,’ Ali said.

‘Are you insane?’ Sarah stared at her sister. ‘It’s four miles uphill.’

‘I know, but it’ll help keep me fit.’

‘But you get plenty of exercise in school, don’t you?’ I asked.

‘I just think it would help wake me up in the mornings. It’s no big deal.’

‘Don’t even think about asking me to cycle,’ Sarah said. ‘My hair would be a mess by the time I got in.’

‘Sorry, Ali, but there’s no point me driving Sarah to school while you cycle. Besides, the weather’s really bad at the moment – you’d catch your death of cold on a bike. If you want to go cycling at the weekend, that’s fine.’

‘I don’t want to go at the weekends. I want to cycle to school.’

‘Why the sudden interest?’ I asked.

‘Oh, forget it,’ Ali said, and stormed up the stairs.

I turned to Sarah, surprised at Ali’s outburst. It was unlike her to snap. ‘What’s wrong with your sister?’

‘Dunno. I suppose she’s just pissed off about David and his new super-model girlfriend being all over each other,’ said Sarah.

‘Don’t say “pissed off”.’

‘OK, fed up, then. I don’t hear you correcting Charlie when he curses like a drunken sailor.’

‘That’s because he’s sixty-eight and it’s too late to change him.’

I went upstairs to Ali’s bedroom. She was sitting at her desk, which was covered with textbooks. I sat down on her bed. ‘Ali, sweetheart, I know it must be really hard for you seeing David with someone else. Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?’

‘No, Mum, I really don’t.’

‘Are you sure? I’m happy to sit and listen if you want to rant and cry and get it off your chest.’

‘I’m fine. I really need to work now.’ She picked up her pen and began to write.

I patted her shoulder. ‘OK. Well, just make sure you don’t overdo it.’

I came back downstairs and went into the lounge, where Paul was reading the Sunday papers. He looked up. ‘Is everything all right? I heard doors slamming.’

‘Ali’s just upset about David.’

‘Arsehole.’

‘I agree. It must be awful having to see him all over the new girlfriend.’

‘Well, the best way to get over a guy is to get under a new one.’

‘Paul!’

‘I’m not suggesting she goes out and shags the whole football team, but a new boyfriend might cheer her up.’

‘True, but you can’t go out with someone you don’t like.’

‘He might grow on her.’

‘It’s a bit soon. Let her wallow for a bit, it’s what girls do – part of the healing process. First you’re devastated, then you’re furious and then you move on.’

‘I’m not looking forward to the furious phase.’ He smiled.

I picked up the travel section and flicked through it. There were lots of city-break autumn offers. One to Paris caught my eye. On our third wedding anniversary, Paul had taken me to Paris for a romantic weekend. We didn’t have much money, but we stayed in the Hôtel de Verger, a small hotel in a converted abbey near the Luxembourg Gardens. Our room had a tiny balcony where we had breakfast every morning, looking over the rooftops. It was one of my favourite memories and it was where Ali had been conceived.

I looked at Paul, who was engrossed in the sports section. Maybe if we both got away from work, the girls, Charlie and all of our responsibilities here, we could rekindle our romance and get our spark back. Paris would be perfect. ‘Paul, look at –’

His phone rang. ‘Hiya, Gary. Oh … I see … Right … Is he there with you now? OK … Thanks for that … I’ll be right down … I owe you,’ he said, and hung up.

‘What’s happened?’ I asked.

‘Charlie’s been arrested.’

My hand flew up to my mouth. ‘Why?’

‘Drunk and disorderly. He was arrested at the Sunshine Home.’

‘Oh, my God, he was drunk in the nursing home?’ I was genuinely shocked. ‘But how? He didn’t have any drink with him.’

‘I don’t have the details. Gary’s one of the policemen who drinks in the pub. He just did me a favour by calling. He said if we can pick Charlie up now they won’t press charges.’

Cursing my father under my breath, I grabbed my coat and we headed out.

When we arrived at the police station, Gary was waiting for us.

‘Thanks for this,’ said Paul, shaking his hand. ‘Drinks are on me the next time you’re in the pub.’

‘For nothing,’ said Gary, grinning. ‘He’s kept us all amused for the past hour with his stories. He’s a gas, man.’

‘Where is he?’ I asked. ‘Can I see him?’

‘Sure, Niall will take you down. I just need Paul to fill out a few forms.’

‘Thank you, Gary. I’m sorry my father’s caused so much trouble,’ I said, attempting a smile.

The junior policeman, Niall, showed me to the room where they had put Charlie. He was sitting on the table swinging his legs like a little boy and holding a handkerchief to his bloody lip.

‘Charlie!’

‘Now, I know what you’re going to say, but hear me out first.’

‘This’d better be good. Paul had to call in favours to get you out of this mess.’

Charlie began to explain. He had gone to visit his sister, my aunt Daisy, in her nursing home. She had Alzheimer’s, so he found visiting her difficult … ‘When I walked into her room, poor Daisy was all scrunched up in her bed, looking miserable. She’s got much worse. She hadn’t a clue who I was. She kept introducing herself – “Hello, my name’s Daisy” – over and over again. Then she’d ask me who I was. I’d say, “It’s Charlie here, your brother. D’you remember me?” and she’d lean over, stick out her hand and say, “Hello, my name’s Daisy.” It was ridiculous. I’d introduced myself to my own sister twenty times. I was going mad. I looked around for something to distract her and saw a bottle of sherry on her shelf so I poured us both a drink, for medicinal purposes. Anyway, she seemed to perk up a bit, so I poured us another … and so on.

‘I decided she needed a change of scenery, so I threw her in the wheelchair and took her down the lounge with all the other nutters and started talking about old times, thinking maybe she’d remember our childhood. “Daisy, do you remember when we used to go dancing on a Friday night after work? You were going with my best friend, Frankie. We’d go to the dance halls and jive to Elvis, Little Richard and Bill Haley. And remember how you loved Doris Day. Remember you used to sing ‘
Que Sera, Sera
’?”

‘Suddenly this ancient dinosaur of a woman comes charging over – well, she’s going pretty fast for a two-hundred-year-old on a zimmer frame – and she starts howling, “
Que sera, sera
, whatever will be will be … ” And Daisy joins in. The next thing I know, half the room is singing and it’s great. At least the poor eejits remember something.

‘So I’m singing along and encouraging them, but then the dinosaur starts bawling. She’s howling, “Oh, boo-hoo, my boyfriend used to sing that to me.”

‘ “When – in the eighteenth century?” I asked.

‘Then I hear a voice behind me. “Are you taking the piss out of my granny?”

‘I turn around to see a big tall fella giving me the evil eye. “No, I’m just trying to cheer her up. It’s like a fecking morgue in here.”

‘The big lad leans in closer. “Have you been drinking?”

‘ “Yes, myself and Daisy here have just had a few sherries,” I said.

‘ “You’re a disgrace,” he says.

‘ “Who are you calling a disgrace?” I replied. “Before I came in your granny was sitting in the corner like a dead person. Now at least she’s singing and crying. Better to feel something than nothing.”

‘He pokes me in the chest. “I don’t need you upsetting my granny. Now, go back to your wife and stop causing havoc.”

‘ “She’s not my wife, she’s my sister.”

‘ “No wonder she’s mad,” he says.

‘There was no way I was letting that go. I know Daisy’s off her rocker, but no one else is allowed insult her. So I punched him, but I was a bit unsteady on my feet, what with the bottle of sherry inside me and all, so I missed and he boxed me in the face.’

‘How old was he?’

‘Fifty?’

‘You’re certifiable. Why would you pick a fight with someone thirty years your junior? No, scratch that, why would you pick a fight with anyone in an old folks’ home?’

‘You haven’t been listening. I didn’t pick any fight. He started it.’

‘You were drunk, Charlie! Aren’t you a bit old for public brawls?’

‘No, I just need to get fit and then I’ll go back and knock him to the ground.’

‘You will do no such thing. From now on you’re going to behave like a normal almost-seventy-year-old man and not a fifteen-year-old boy. How did the police get involved?’

‘When I fell down, all the nutters started shouting and roaring and a nurse came in, saw me on the ground with blood spurting out of my mouth and called the police. I presumed they were going to arrest your man for punching me. While we were waiting for the police to arrive, another nurse came in and helped wipe the blood off my face and gave me some ice. She happened to be very attractive.’

I shook my head. ‘Please tell me you didn’t.’

‘She had the best backside I’ve seen in twenty years so I just gave it a little pinch and she started hollering.’

‘What a surprise.’

‘In the old days women would have been flattered by the attention. It’s all so bloody serious now. If you look at someone sideways, you get arrested.’

‘It’s called sexual harassment. I wouldn’t take kindly to a dirty old man pinching my bum in work.’

‘Ah, it was only a bit of fun,’ he grumbled.

‘Fun that almost landed you in jail! If it wasn’t for Paul you could have been charged. Why can’t you get a pipe and slippers, do crosswords and bird-watch?’ I was utterly exasperated.

‘Ava, I’m never going to be the type of father who bird-watches or train-watches. Maybe I was born with a screw loose, but I’m not going to change now. Conforming is like dying. You lose your individuality. I learnt that in the orphanage. Even at the age of five I could see how most of the lads in there were institutionalized. There was no way in hell I was going to turn out like some robot. I fought very hard not to let the orphanage break my spirit and I’m sure as hell not going to let old age do it. I saw all those poor sods in that old folks’ home, and I want to enjoy what time I have left with my mind intact. I’d rather die dancing than of boredom.’

I looked at him. My father. Charlie. The sixty-eight-year-old prize fighter. An eccentric. An original. His parents had died within six months of each other and his maiden aunt had taken in Daisy, but he’d been sent to the orphanage when he was just five years old. He’d run away at sixteen and joined a circus. But after a few years on the road he decided to get a more stable job and had started working as a runner in a factory that assembled televisions while going to bookkeeping classes at night. Within five years he was the floor manager and ten years later was promoted to general manager of the factory, a job he had held for thirty years until his retirement at sixty-five.

How was I going to get him to calm down? Could I? Should I? Would it be better to let him be the free spirit he was? Surely not if it meant ending up in prison.

‘Charlie, I understand that you want to enjoy yourself, but while you’re living under my roof you’ll have to toe the line. I have two young daughters to worry about. No more sexual harassment and fighting and no more one-night stands either. When you’re in your own apartment you can do what you like.’

He sighed. ‘You’re a tyrant.’

‘Tyrants don’t love their subjects.’

‘I might as well be in jail.’

‘I don’t think the beds are as comfortable.’

Paul popped his head round the door. ‘All clear. We can go now.’

‘Thanks for that,’ I said.

‘Yes, thanks for bailing me out,’ Charlie said.

‘Pleasure. How’s the lip?’ Paul asked.

‘I’ll survive.’

‘How does the other guy look?’

‘Unfortunately I missed him.’

‘I can show you a few moves,’ said Paul.

‘Thanks, but Mike Tyson here is retiring. For good,’ I said, leading my father out to the car.

When we got home, Sarah and Bobby were kissing on the couch.

‘SARAH!’ Paul roared, as the two kids jumped up. ‘What the hell is going on?’

‘Nothing, I swear,’ said a red-faced Bobby.

‘We were just snogging. It’s no big deal,’ Sarah said.

‘I’ll be the one who decides what is and is not appropriate behaviour,’ Paul snapped.

‘Hey, Mr Hayes, what happened to your lip?’ Bobby asked, clearly keen to distract us, having been found with his tongue halfway down our daughter’s throat.

‘Don’t call me “Mr Hayes”. It’s Charlie. I was in a fight.’

‘In the old folks’ home?’ Sarah asked.

Charlie nodded.

‘Charlie, you’re mad. How did it start?’

‘It’s a long story,’ I jumped in. ‘Now, Bobby, it’s time you were heading home.’