have a little Gerry running around the playground while she shouted at him to be careful and did other mummy things, like spit on a tissue and wipe his pudgy little dirty face.
Holly and Gerry had only started talking about having children a few months before he was diagnosed. They had been so excited about it and used to lie in bed for hours trying to decide names, creating scenarios in their heads of what it would be like to be parents. Holly smiled at the thought of Gerry being a father; he would have been terrific. She could imagine him being so patient while he sat helping the kids with their homework at the kitchen table. She could imagine him being so overprotective if his daughter ever brought a boy home. Imagine if, imagine if, imagine if …
But Holly needed to stop living her life in her head, remembering old memories and dreaming of impossible dreams. It would never get her anywhere.
Well, talk of the devil, Holly thought to herself, seeing Richard leaving the playground with Emily and Timmy. He looked so relaxed, she thought, watching him in surprise as he chased the children around the park. They looked as though they were having fun, not a very familiar sight. She sat up on the bench and zipped up her extra layer of thick skin in preparation for their conversation.
‘Hello, Holly!’ Richard said happily, spotting her and walking across the grass to her.
‘Hello!’ Holly said, greeting the kids as they ran over to her and gave her a big hug. That made a nice change. ‘You’re far from home,’ she said to Richard. ‘What brings you all the way over here?’
‘I brought the children to see Grandma and Granddad, didn’t I?’ he said, ruffling Timmy’s head.
‘And we had McDonald’s,’ Timmy said excitedly, and Emily cheered.
‘Oh, yummy!’ Holly said, licking her lips. ‘You lucky things. Isn’t your daddy the best?’
Richard looked pleased.
‘Junk food?’ Holly questioned her brother.
‘Ah,’ he waved his hand dismissively and sat down beside her, ‘everything in moderation, isn’t that right, Emily?’
Five-year-old Emily nodded her head as though she had completely understood her father. Her big green eyes were wide and innocent and her nodding head was sending her red ringlets bouncing. She was eerily like her mother and Holly had to look away. Then she felt guilty and looked back and smiled … then had to look away again. There was something about those eyes and that hair that scared her.
‘Well, one McDonald’s meal isn’t going to kill them,’ Holly agreed with her brother.
Timmy grabbed at his throat and pretended to choke. His face went red as he made gagging noises and he collapsed on the grass and lay very still. Richard and Holly laughed. Emily looked as if she was going to cry.
‘Oh dear,’ Richard joked, ‘looks like we were wrong, Holly. The McDonald’s did kill Timmy.’
Holly looked at her brother in shock for calling his son Timmy, but she decided not to mention it. It was obviously just a slip of the tongue.
Richard got up and threw Timmy over his shoulder. ‘Well, we better go bury him now and have a funeral.’ Timmy giggled as he dangled upside down on his father’s shoulder.
‘Oh, he’s alive!’ Richard laughed.
‘No, I’m not,’ giggled Timmy.
Holly watched in amusement at the family scene before her. It had been a while since she had witnessed anything like this. None of her friends had children and Holly was very rarely around any. There was obviously something seriously wrong with her if she was doting on Richard’s children. And it wasn’t the wisest decision to become broody when there was no man in your life.
‘OK, we best be off,’ laughed Richard. ‘Bye, Holly.’
‘Bye, Holly,’ the children cheered, and Holly watched Richard walk off with Timmy slung over his right shoulder, as little Emily hopped, skipped and danced along beside him while gripping his hand.
Holly stared in amusement at the stranger walking off with two children. Who was this man who claimed to be her brother? Holly certainly had never met that man before.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Barbara finished serving her customers and as soon as they left the building she ran into the staffroom and lit up a cigarette. The travel agent’s had been so busy all day and she had to work all through her lunch break. Melissa, her colleague, had called in sick that morning although Barbara knew very well she had partied too hard the night before and any sickness she might have was self-inflicted. So she was stuck in this boring job all by herself today. And, of course, it was the busiest day they’d had in ages. As soon as November came, with those horrible depressing dark nights and dark mornings and piercing wind and sheets of rain … everyone came running in the door, booking holidays to beautiful hot sunny countries. Barbara shuddered as she heard the wind rattle the windows and made a note to herself to check for any special holiday deals.
Her boss had finally gone out to run some errands and she had flown into the staffroom as quickly as she could to light up a cigarette. The bell over the door sounded and Barbara cursed the customer entering the shop for disturbing her precious break. She puffed on the cigarette furiously, almost making herself dizzy, reapplied her glossy red lipstick, made sure her name badge was still pinned on and sprayed her perfume all around the room, so her boss wouldn’t notice the smoke. She left the staff room expecting to see a customer sitting behind the counter but instead the old man was still slowly making his way over. Barbara tried not to stare and began pressing random buttons on her keypad.
‘Excuse me?’ the man’s weak voice called to her.
‘Hello, sir, how can I help you?’ she said for the hundredth time that day. She didn’t mean to be rude by staring at him but she was surprised at how young the man actually was. From far away his slumped figure looked like that of a pensioner. His body was hunched and the walking stick in his hand seemed to be the only thing preventing him from collapsing to the floor in front of her. His skin was very white and pasty, as though he hadn’t seen the sun for years, but he had big brown puppy eyes that seemed to smile at her from under his long lashes. She couldn’t help but smile back at him.
‘I was hoping to book a holiday,’ he said quietly, ‘but I was wondering if you could help me choose a place.’
Usually Barbara would have silently screamed at the customer for making her do this unbelievably impossible task. Most of her customers were so fussy that she could be sitting there for hours with them flicking through brochures and trying to persuade them where to go when the truth is she really couldn’t give a toss where they went. But this man seemed pleasant so she was glad to help. She surprised herself.
‘No problem, sir. Why don’t you take a seat there and we’ll search through the brochures.’ She pointed to the chair in front of her and looked away again so she didn’t have to watch his struggle to sit down.
‘Now,’ she said, full of smiles, ‘is there any country in particular that you would like to go to?’
‘Em … Spain … Lanzarote, I think.’
Barbara was glad; this was going to be a lot easier than she’d
