Morag Joss - Half Broken Things

It was my own fault, that day of the strawberry picking, letting a mention of next year slip out of my mouth, but it helped me. Because when that unbearable feeling stole over me again, as I stood there, after I had watched them walk away from me, that was the moment when I knew I would do anything, I mean absolutely anything, to keep us all together.

Steph was pressing the little studs on Charlie’s pale green shorts and tucking in his T-shirt, wondering which of his several hats he might wear today. It was going to be hot again, too hot for jam making, really, but the fruit had been picked yesterday and would not last out the day.

‘We’re going to make jam, Charlie,’ she told him. ‘Aren’t we? Are you going to help me make the jam? Are you going to have a taste of the jam?’ She popped an acorn shaped hat of green gingham on his head. Charlie looked back at her coolly. It was a morning on which Sally had, surprisingly, left calmly and in good time, so Charlie had already had a peaceful breakfast with Steph and apparently was scrutinising the day ahead with equanimity. They were both startled by the sudden loud pang-pang-pang of Sally’s doorbell.

A very tall, elderly man wearing smeared glasses and dressed in a light linen jacket and an open-necked shirt stood on the doorstep. He raised his panama hat and smiled experimentally. ‘How do you do. I hope Sally told you to expect me?’

He asked this in a way that suggested he assumed she would have, so Steph felt somehow in the wrong when she told him that Sally had not. The man wriggled his full lips. ‘Oh, dear. I did tell Sally. I told her expressly that I would visit today. I was supposed to pop in yesterday evening, which frankly would have been more convenient, but she rang and said Charlie was too tired. So I said I would come today instead, and she said I would have to be here early. Do I take it I’ve missed her?’ He looked at Charlie for the first time and chucked him under the chin. ‘Hello, young man! Helloooh!’

Steph wondered how she could ask him who he was without sounding rude or suspicious. Before she could say anything he turned from Charlie, who now had hold of one of his forefingers, and said, ‘And you must be Nanny, am I correct?’ The words were followed by a parting of the lips, offering Steph a view of greyish teeth that appeared to be huddling in his mouth for shelter.

‘I’m the childminder. Steph.’

‘Well, how do you do, Steph. I’m Charlie’s grandfather. Mr Brookes, or Reverend Brookes if you like, but in mufti today, not in fancy dress! Actually I’m on holiday.’ He grinned at her. The sun was falling directly on his face, and Steph, seeing nothing beyond the obscuring rainbow glint of grease across the lenses of his glasses, could not be certain if his eyes were friendly.

‘Oh. Oh, that’s nice. Nice weather for you.’

‘Yes, only wouldn’t you just know it- I gather it’s wet where I’m going! I’m off later, you see, for a week’s walking. Up north, probably in the rain! Anyway, I thought I’d pop over before I head off, and see my grandson. I did tell Sally I would, but evidently she’s forgotten to tell you. Eh, Charlie?’

‘Oh.’

So this was the, what was it Sally had called him? The uptight bugger, the miserable old sod, the one Sally preferred when he was depressed. Steph’s heart went out to him. He was just old and awkward, a big embarrassment of a man, too tall for his clothes and too helpless to clean his glasses, yet here he was on the doorstep making an effort. But what could she do?

‘Well, I’m sorry Sally’s not here; but we were just going. Charlie and me, we were-’

‘Going? Going where?’

‘Oh, we don’t stay here . We don’t spend the day here. Didn’t Sally tell you? We always-’ She stopped. It was clear from the falling of the man’s already long face that Sally had told him nothing at all. Steph could almost hear it, Sally barking down the phone at him that he’d better be early and she wouldn’t be hanging around, she would have to get to work, and he would have to sort it out with Steph. It was suddenly much less surprising that Sally had gone off so promptly today; she had deliberately left the two of them to deal with each other. Steph immediately felt rather sorry for herself, as well as for him. In fact Charlie’s grandfather was not at all as she had imagined him. He was quite kind-looking, really, just a bit unfamiliar with babies.

‘I take him up to my house. There’s lots of room and the garden and everything, and a pool.’ She added, ‘Sally knows. We keep lots of his stuff up there, there’s nothing here for him. And, er, well- well, I need to get off, they’re expecting us. Takes a little while, what with the pushchair.’

‘Oh. Oh, I see, yes, I’m sure, but you see, I’ve come nearly eighteen miles. Though of course you’ve got your routine, I wouldn’t want to…’

‘Well, come on in for a minute, anyway,’ Steph said, comfortably. He was nice, she was deciding. And he had come specially, and must be wearing that hat just as a sort a joke. It was typical of Sally to take against him. Sally did seem always to be furious with the wrong people. ‘Come on in and have a cup of coffee. What a shame, you coming all this way and Sally never saying.’

Charlie’s granddad seemed as mystified by the cluttered house as Steph was. He stood frowning, looking round the kitchen as if he were wondering if he could bear to stay in such a muddle even long enough to drink a cup of coffee.

‘Tell you what,’ he said. ‘Don’t bother with the coffee. I’ll give you a lift. And then perhaps I could spend-’

‘Oh, no! No, don’t, there’s no need, honest. Kettle’s on, won’t take a minute. And we like the walk. Don’t we, Charlie? It’s only a mile, it’s just along the road, really. We count the cars, don’t we, Charlie?’

‘Along the road? The top road? That settles it. They tear along there, there’s no proper pavement, is there, and they just tear along… it’s not safe. No, never mind the coffee, I’m giving you a lift. What can Sally be thinking of? I’ll have to speak to her. So dangerous!’ He had already found his car keys.

Steph tried to protest. ‘But we always walk! I’m careful! I wouldn’t let anything happen to him!’

‘I’m sure you wouldn’t, but I won’t have it. I’m taking you in the car.’

‘Oh, but you can’t! I’ve just remembered. You won’t have a car seat. And Charlie’s is in Sally’s car, and she’s gone to work, and she wouldn’t like it. He’s got to be in a proper car seat. He’s only safe if he’s in a proper car seat, she says. So we can’t come with you.’

The man gave a dismissive tut. ‘Oh really, as if that were the point. Anyway, there’s a car seat in the hall. I’m sure I saw one in the hall, on the way in.’

Steph had not noticed. There it was, partly hidden under a thrown-down jumper of Philip’s. She remembered now. Philip’s car was a BMW two-seater, so they had gone to France in Sally’s Volvo, folding the back seat down flat to make room for the cases of wine. The car seat had been taken out and, true to form, Sally had not yet put it back.

Mr Brookes’s car was almost as crammed with things as Sally’s usually was. While Steph tugged the rear seat belt round the car seat, Mr Brookes cleared stuff out from the front so that Steph could sit there. He first chucked over some books, folders and a number of cardboard tubes, and then he brought out several boxes with no lids, that contained bundles of brightly coloured paper strips held by elastic bands. They all carried the same words: SAVE YOUR LYCHGATE. Several identical strips were stuck all over the windows and rear windscreen of his car. He opened the boot and began rearranging things to make room for the boxes.