CHAPTER 19
I came back from a crap shift one evening, straight into a warm bath which was improved no end by my wife sponging the tension out of my neck and back as something heated in the oven. She had been on an early shift, and we were happily both off the next day, so the evening was hurs with no need to worry about early alarm clocks and units of alcohol.

I had the evening in question planned out in detail: something nice on the video, dinner on our laps before she came onto mine. An early night.

She was itching to say something, though, as she squeezed the lovely warmth from the sponge over my shoulders.

“What’s up, cariad?”

She straightened beside the bath, sitting back on her heels so she could look me in the eyes.

“I got a call from Arris, Lainey”

“And? Oh. What’s up? Not one of the kids?”

Her mouth twitched, and she looked down for a second. “No, not the kids. Remember Tony’s missus, Annie?”

“Course…oh shit, Siân! How?”

This was my beloved in the role I dreaded and detested, breaking the news nobody ever wanted to hear. She gave a deep sigh, and an attempt at a wry smile that fell at the first.

“They were off to Disneyland, Disneyworld, whatever. Florida, you know? All wonderful, proper family stuff, they get back…”

She trailed off for a moment, then looked at me, brow furrowed. “She was so pretty, Lainey, so full of life. If it wasn’t for you, and Tony, and her being straight, you know? You understand? I saw Vicky in her, aye?”

The tears came then, and I sat up, wet, naked, to hold her.

“Lainey, I hardly knew her. Why am I so upset??”

“You said it, cariad. You saw Vicky in her, wasn’t it?”

She squeezed me back. “More than that, my love. Mother, isn’t it? You know what I feel, what I want, and I watched her and Arris, and, well, no secret I had the jealousy, was it? It was just that I could almost forget that bit with the children. Mother and child. I’ve got neither, but I could do it through Annie, through Arris, and, shit. Just shit, aye?”

She dug her fingers into my back and fell silent. I waited till her tension eased

“And Tony?”

“Ah, Lainey, Arris says he’s broken. Little Jim’s not talking to anyone, Tony’s off work, staying with his Mam”

I understood that one. How could he stay in the house where wife and mother had left them? Siân was sitting up again.

“What happened, cariad?”

“Brain aneurysm, haemorrhage sort of thing. Jim… Jim was tickling her when it happened. I suspect he thinks he did it. Look, Arris asked a favour, aye? Leave it a while for Reading visits, see how they get on. I think they want to give the boys some space. She’ll give us a shout as and when”

“Anything that we can actually do?”

“No, Lainey. Don’t think so. Just space and time, aye? Oh, and Arris says not to say anything to Sar. Wouldn’t be appropriate, nor helpful”

“Siân, one day she will need to know we still see him, aye?”

“Aye. She will. Just not right now, OK?”

We were round at Kev and Vicky’s the following night, Little Taz becoming more of a person with each visit, and as she tickled Vicky I watched my wife, seeing how deeply Annie’s death had cut her. She kept it in, kept the smile in place, dealt with her own assaults from a giggling little girl and still the pain sat in her eyes. I have always been astonished at how deep my wife’s feelings swim, how slowly they burn, and for an instant I saw her face superimposed on that of the poor bike copper, that Adam, and realised that with her job there was a real risk of meeting a similar situation. I made a quick decision.

“Just had a thought, people. Can we wangle the same time off this Summer? See if we can get a villa somewhere?”

Vicky laughed out loud at that, Tara adding a little girl scream just to make her own noise and not feel left out. Kev reached down by the side of the sofa he was sharing with his family.

“Funny you should say that, Lainey”

He had a number of glossy brochures in his hand. “Got some deals on villas in Greece, aye? Tara’s still young enough to be out of school, and we thought we’d get a cheaper holiday in while we could”

Siân laughed, more happily this time. “Tell me you haven’t got one for Lesbos, Kev!”

“Might have…”

What a genius. We were booked up as soon as we had the leave arranged and a passport sorted, and no, I won’t go into details about the holiday itself. Yes we went to Lesbos, yes the plumbing was odd, but the food was superb and the wine better and a little girl got to make sandcastles with her dad while three women supervised from sun-loungers. I almost forgot about reality until two of us were sitting in the relative cool of the evening writing postcards. Vicky looked over her cousin’s shoulder.

“What about your Mum and Dad, Siân?”

My wife snorted. “You are joking, girl, aren’t you?”

Vicky sat down beside her. “No, I am not. Look, we all know what happened, we know what she said, but you have to rise above it. Trite, I know, but she’s still your Mum, and you shouldn’t throw that away. Sod it, girl, I know what you are feeling. I see how you look at Taz and me. Jealousy isn’t pretty”

“Envy, not jealousy. I don’t want you, is it, not any more, but I want what you have, and I can’t do that. So it’s do the best I can. Permanent Aunty, that’s me. But why should I write to her after what she said?”

Vicky took her hand. “She’s still your mother, love. Still your Mum. You don’t have to try any persuasion, any convincing, yeah? Just let her know you’re still alive, still her daughter. She has to take her own wall down: don’t build your own one. I got some more postcards and stamps, you can have some. Just write one to her. Ball in her court”

We posted it the next day. Nothing world-shaking, just a couple of lines about how much ‘Vicky’s little girl’ was enjoying the holiday. Ball in her court.

That villa became our holiday place for a couple of years, right up until little Tara was ready to start school and the costs accordingly shot up. It was always the same, with Siân having to spend more money on sun block that we did on alcohol, or so it seems. Vicky had heard of some odd Yank or German fashion thing, where you stood in a booth and got spray-painted with fake tan skin paint, and suggested we hire one and fill the tank with Factor 300 or whatever, and my wife threw a bread roll at her. Children.

In between the holidays and the occasional inconvenient spell of paid employment, we picked up our social life again. I had a little shiver of worry when I heard Tony was moving to Dover, but the state he was in hardly suggested he would be out clubbing and running into lonely biker chicks. What struck me as the months passed by was the change in him.

When we first saw him in Reading, after, well, just after, he reminded me of Sar. There was a dead void behind his eyes, an empty space where his personality had once shone. Jim was worse. Every time Arris, Siân or myself spoke to him, there’d be a blank look and silence. He only really came alive with the other children; even with his father he was subdued. Tony’s mood improved over time, as he shifted focus from family to child, from the life they had had to the life he needed to build, but I still saw my sister’s blank emptiness in him.

The decision was easier when that similarity became clear, I ran my idea past the other girls before broaching it with Steve, and then with Tony himself.

“Could I have a word, butt? Got a suggestion, might not be a good one but I mean it, we mean it the right way, aye?”

“Try me, Lainey. I’ll be nice, promise”

I smiled. “You always are, Tone. Look what you did for my sister, aye?”

The gentlest of smiles. “She is a sweet woman”

“Aye, Tone. And she’s living in Dover”

“You are kidding!”

“Not at all, butt. One day, you’ll run into each other, sure as eggs, aye? Don’t know what she’d do. Look, it’s been over a year since, aye? Shit, Tone, this sounds like I want to set you up. Not like that, not at all. Sar’s…”

Siân interrupted. We always were a double act. “Tone, you ought to see her. I mean, IF you saw her, saw what we do. She’s drying up, stagnating. No life in her any more, just works and thrashes her bike”

His head lifted. “She still rides?”

I laughed as best as I could manage. “Rock chick she sees herself, biker girl, aye? Tone, mate, look. We all love you both. We are all sick of seeing both of you fading away. It might not work, but perhaps, just once, we might try and push things in a better direction?”

He looked over to Steve. “You involved in this?”

The big man sniffed. “Don’t do women’s work, me. Doesn’t mean women’s work is unnecessary, though, does it? Girls are right, bro. I want my brother back. Girls want you back. Jim needs you back. Perhaps Sarah… Give it a go, Tone. Game theory, isn’t it? You’ve both already lost, so all that’s left is the possibility of a win. Look, I’ll babysit here, the girls get her out somewhere you just happen to be, see what it turns up. Get your Mum down for Jim, clear the decks. Fuck it. Wench, pass me the laptop!”

Twenty minutes later Arris was on the phone and the dice were rolling.