Читать книгу Coronation Day - Kay Brellend - Страница 12

‘It’s not your fault.’

‘Yeah … it is …’ Christopher immediately spurned Grace’s comfort. ‘We’d argued again just this morning about me wanting to find me mum.’ The tip of his cigarette glowed and, in the ensuing silence, smoke drifted through his nostrils to mingle with night air. He turned away from the van’s open window to gaze at her. ‘Made a change for us to speak actually, even if it were just a blazing row. He’s been giving me the silent treatment for weeks. Hell it is trying to work with somebody all day long when they won’t say a word to you.’

‘It’s not your fault he went up that ladder, Chris,’ Grace gently persisted. ‘Your dad decided to use it, and he should’ve known better.’ One of her hands covered his fingers, resting idle on his thigh. ‘You’d all told him it was dangerous. What more could any of you have done?’

‘Could’ve kept quiet about me mum, that’s what I could’ve done. Wish I’d never bloody mentioned anything about going looking for her. Me dad was right. He’s always been around for me. What’s she done except made herself scarce for over twenty years?’ The bitter outburst tailed away only to be resumed a moment later. ‘I knew it’d upset him badly if I started going on about her, but still I did it.’

‘You’ve got a right to know about your mother,’ Grace quietly reasoned. ‘Anyhow, rowing over your mum doesn’t excuse him doing something stupid.’ She huffed. ‘For Heaven’s sake, at his age, he should’ve known better than risk his life like that!’

Irritably, Christopher whipped his fingers out from under Grace’s warm palm. He knew there was sense in what she was saying but anxiety and guilt continued gnawing at him. ‘Neither of us has been able to concentrate properly since this blew up. He probably forgot the ladder were knackered because of everything else going round in his head.’ Chris flicked the dog end out of the van window and immediately drew out another cigarette from the pack. ‘And where was I, eh, when it happened?’ His tone was viciously self-mocking. ‘Buying fags down the shop, weren’t I, ’cos I couldn’t stand the bad atmosphere and needed a break. If I’d been where I should’ve been, and seen him hoisting it, I’d’ve put a fourteen-pound hammer through the poxy thing right there and then.’

Grace slid closer to him on the seat and leaned her cheek against the tightly bunched muscle in his shoulder. ‘Come on … relax, don’t blame yourself,’ she softly urged, massaging his forearm with her small fingers. ‘The doctor said he’s been very lucky. Tomorrow when you get to the hospital you might find him sitting up having breakfast in bed.’

‘Please God you’re right about that …’ Chris mumbled. ‘He didn’t say a word to me. Don’t know if he could hear me talking to him. Looked still as death and whiter’n the sheet tucked under his chin.’

At the hospital Christopher had stayed only briefly with his father yet he’d found the time ample. The sharp, sterile scent of the small side ward, and oppressive silence, had made him glad to spot the doctor beckoning him away after five minutes. Although Stephen’s eyelids had flickered up once or twice he either couldn’t, or wouldn’t, speak to his son. Nevertheless Christopher intended to visit the hospital first thing tomorrow before carrying on to see his uncle Rob and sort out what was to be done about the work situation.

‘He’ll be fine after his breakages mend and he’s had a good rest!’ Grace whispered fiercely against his stubble. She rubbed a finger back and forth on his grimy jaw, realising it wasn’t just his overalls that smelled mucky, but his skin too. ‘You could do with a wash and shave.’

Christopher put an arm around her and eased his face against her sweetly scented skin. ‘Don’t know what I’d do without you to talk to,’ he murmured.

‘Thought you said your Aunt Tilly was a diamond at listening and giving advice,’ she teased.

‘She is …’ Christopher paused, realising that a couple of months ago he’d have headed straight to Whadcoat Street to sift through the day’s troubles with his aunt. But instinctively he’d come away from the hospital and headed towards Tottenham, without even returning home first to wash and change out of his work clothes. ‘It’s you I need to talk to now when bad things happen.’ His wry smile turned sultry and his lips prowled after hers to claim a hungry kiss. ‘Don’t go in yet …’ He murmured against her cheek as their lips unsealed.

‘Got to …’ she sighed. ‘You know what me mum’s like about getting me indoors before eleven during the week …’ She glanced sideways at the house and noticed the front-room curtain twitch. ‘Oh, God, she’s watching us alright; probably heard the van pull up. Got to go, Chris, ’cos it’s work in the morning.’

As soon as Grace had got in the van and seen Chris in his overalls, her pique at his late arrival had withered away. She’d realised at once something was wrong. After hearing the bare bones of Stephen’s accident she’d no longer fancied going to the pictures even though he’d sweetly offered to speed home and smarten up so they wouldn’t miss the main feature. Instead they’d gone for a drive and she’d allowed him his long silences while he inwardly battled to make sense of what had occurred. Then they’d parked up outside her house and, unprompted, he’d given her a detailed account of the calamity that afternoon. Grace’s quietly adamant opinion that he wasn’t to blame had started to calm his inner demons, if not completely tame them.

‘Shall we go to the pictures on Saturday instead?’

‘You asking me out, Grace Coleman?’ Chris demanded, feigning surprise. ‘’Cos if you are you’d better not start getting fresh with me, y’know.’

She blushed but saucily squeezed his knee. ‘It’ll be a change for me to be the one taking liberties, Christopher Wild.’ She playfully fended him off as he lunged for her with a growl. ‘My treat this weekend as it’s the end of the month and I get paid,’ she squeaked while being crushed against his chest.

Christopher relaxed his predatory grip on her arms and smoothed one of her warm cheeks with the backs of his fingers. Something had occurred to him, and he regretted bringing it to her attention and putting a dampener on their plans. ‘I doubt if me dad’ll be out of hospital so soon, but if he is, I’m not sure I’ll be going anywhere if he’s hobbling about and needs looking after.’

‘Oh, yes, ’course … I should’ve realised …’ Grace grimaced in apology.

Pushing aside all thoughts of his father Chris concentrated on the warm woman resting against him. He curved an arm about her, drawing her close so his hands could caress her back, stroke at her nape until she was pliant and curling her body against his. ‘I know it’s daft to talk about this so soon, when we’ve only been going out a couple of months, but …’

Grace shifted position and caught his face between her palms, curtailing his diffident declaration of love. ‘Shhh … time enough for that another day.’ She smiled wryly. ‘I’d sooner hear it – if you still want to say it – when you’re over the shock of your dad’s accident.’ Despite her husky rebuff she snuggled up to him encouragingly, tilting up her face to ask, ‘Will you try and find this woman in Clapham so you can ask her some questions?’ His puzzled expression prompted her to explain. ‘You told me your aunt Tilly gave you a tip about a woman who knew your mum years ago. I think you said her name was Vicky. Will you try and find her?’