Tim Connor Hits Trouble Read online

  Chapter 24

  The Grand Tour Continues

  Gina’s arrival changed the dynamics of the group. So far they had revolved around Maria. Now they refocused on Gina and Tim. Gina’s striking physical appearance and natural extroversion meant that she was often a centre of attention among her friends. Tim used to take pleasure in her popularity whilst feeling relieved that it took the onus of conviviality away from him. His life out of Gina’s aura had enabled him to indulge his introspective temperament, yet he was surprised how much he missed his role as her supporting act. Reluctantly he admitted to himself that occasionally he felt something like loneliness, less the pillar of self-sufficiency he sometimes imagined himself.

  This was no secret to Charlie and Rose. Despite his recent career boost, Tim seemed unanchored and adrift, still trying to come to terms with his over-stretched life. And they were sceptical about Gina’s apparently swift adjustment to a new partner and domestic set-up. They feared this might be a hastily thrown on band-aid over a raw wound. For them Tim and Gina together were more than the sum of their separate selves, but they understood that any reconciliation had to be on their own account. They had not given up hope.

  Their feelings were not completely altruistic. The collapse of Tim and Gina’s relationship had left a gap in the lives of their friends as well as in their own. For Rose and Charlie, spending time with a lively and likeable couple was more enjoyable than with two separate and wounded individuals. For now they persisted in sending their invitations to visit to Gina and Tim rather than to Gina and Rupert or to Tim and who-ever he might be likely to turn up with. They were unenthused by the thought of welcoming a series of Tim’s girlfriends as they had done with good grace throughout most of his twenties. In Rose’s rather clinical analysis that would be retrograde: socially awkward and emotionally stressful. In Charlie’s more down-to-earth terms they were past that stage and they hoped Tim was too. They were determined to avoid a collective regression triggered by Tim’s seeming obsession with finding the perfect partner. He claimed to have done that with Gina. Though they did not yet accept Tim and Gina’s separation as a fait accompli they knew they could do little about it during the course of a short visit. After some discussion, they decided to create one decent opportunity for the four of them to talk seriously. Circumstances conspired to make this difficult.

  Delayed by a breakdown of her train into London, Gina missed her connection from Euston to Coventry. By the time they had picked her up at the station it was late Thursday evening and a heavy conversation was out of the question. She was due to leave for Whitetown with Tim and Maria early Saturday morning. It was not until after a late dinner on Friday, with Maria already in bed, that the discussion took place. Charlie kicked it off obliquely.

  ‘It’s great to have you two with us again. We’ve missed you.’

  ‘It really is,’ added Rose.

  Gina and Tim exchanged a wary glance.

  ‘It’s good to be here. Almost like old times,’ Tim ventured.

  ‘I suppose it’s difficult for you to get together as a…’ Charlie hesitated, already feeling he was in awkward territory, ‘I mean the two of you, the three of you…’ he came to a halt as his words failed his sentiments.

  ‘We’re past the stage where we’re constantly bickering. We’re generally quite civil to each other these days,’ said a tired sounding Gina. ‘Occasionally we both spend time together with Maria. She seems to want that, although she gets on quite well with Rupert.’

  Rose sensed that Gina was steering away from the discussion she and Charlie were trying to set up. She hesitated, wanting to respect her friend’s feelings but unwilling to give up on her agenda. It might be months before the four of them were together again, if at all. Gambling on Gina’s habit of giving a straight answer to a straight question, she came to the point. ‘Gina, Tim, why did you guys break up? Tell us to mind our own business if you want, but you’re our best friends. It all seemed to happen so quickly. We were almost as upset as if we’d broken up ourselves.’

  Charlie raised a quizzical eyebrow at Rose’s final remark but offered a vaguely sympathetic murmur of support.

  To Rose’s surprise, it was Tim who responded first.

  ‘It did happen very quickly. She was very angry with me. You’re right, it would have been better if we’d given ourselves a few months to work things out. But it all went downhill very quickly when we were both messing around with…’

  Gina cut in directing her response to Tim rather than Rose, ‘Tim you’ve avoided the main issue. We had several months when we might have worked things out but you chose to lie to me instead. It was obvious from your emails that you were sleeping with… whatever her name was. You dragged it on and on without being honest with me about what you were doing.’

  Tim was torn between wanting to assert some parity of blame and satisfying Gina’s insistence that he acknowledge responsibility for destabilising their relationship. His reply was a confused attempt to do both. ‘You know, we both had affairs. Maybe mine did come first but Gina’s got more involved. You can see that from what’s happened since.’

  ‘This is the first time that you’ve even got close to admitting that you were unfaithful. It’s taken you this long and you’re still fudging it,’ Gina interrupted. ‘By the way, my relationship with Rupert is not an affair.’

  Stung, Tim shifted to attack. ‘You keep on about my deception but how long had your relationship with Rupert been going on before I got to hear about it? Even if you weren’t sleeping with him, as you claim? It looks even more suspicious now than it did then. And what about the ethics of reading my personal emails? Anyway, I still think you could have waited longer before you bailed out. It was the first time we’d had any serious difficulty in over seven years together.’

  ‘So you say, but for all I know you’ve had other affairs. I can’t trust your word now. I did not sleep with Rupert until several weeks after I was certain that you were having an affair. And remember you promised me when we decided to live together that you wanted a one-to-one relationship. As for reading your emails, we used to read each other’s emails without worrying about it.’

  Charlie quickly realised that whatever he and Rose had hoped for from the discussion, this was not it. He wanted to rescue Tim from the trouncing he was getting. He searched for less acrimonious ground. ‘Listen, listen, I’m sorry… We didn’t mean to start off a blame game. You’ll have to resolve the infidelity issue some other time if you really want to look at it that way. It’s too big a question to deal with now. But it doesn’t have to be a zero sum exercise. I don’t think quantifying degrees of guilt will get you very far. You need to look to the future.’

  Rose picked up on Charlie’s point, feeling bad that she had started things off insensitively. ‘I agree. We’re not saying that you should ignore your anger and sense of loss. You have to face up to what’s happened and work through it. But Charlie’s right, you also need to confront what kind of future you want, together or otherwise. Together we hope.’

  Rose was uncomfortably aware that she was using the same routine psycho-speak she employed on a daily basis in her work. It seemed inappropriate for friends, even insulting. She attempted more direct and personal language. ‘What do you want from each other going ahead? You’re here together with us. You’re travelling with your child. You’re going together to help an old woman that you both care for. These things will not go away.’

  Gina had a ready answer. ‘I want the same as Tim said he wanted seven years ago, but which he didn’t live up to – maybe he never intended to. I want a committed and honest relationship. He needs to decide what he wants not me.’

  Tim looked at her in surprise. Was this a first hint of possible reconciliation? He was about to follow it up when she immediately backtracked.

  ‘Besides it’s too late for us now. There’s another person in all this, Rupert.’

  ‘How do you know you can trust him?’ asked Tim flatly, his
optimism quashed.

  ‘Maybe I don’t. Trust doesn’t come so easily now. I’m not as naïve as I used to be. I take my risks more carefully these days.’

  Tim listened glumly as Rose and Charlie attempted to resurrect his character in the eyes of his former partner. His friends meant well but their efforts seemed to be leaving him in a worse situation with Gina. It flashed through his mind that if he simply said he was sorry he might regain credibility with her. A clear apology might be the price he had to pay for any chance of reviving his relationship. But he still wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure that their break-up was entirely his fault, not entirely. Then there was Erica, he loved Gina but he wanted Erica. Could he have both? Not without becoming a complete liar. He had become distinctly disenchanted with lies. He had learnt the hard way that they do indeed grow to have a life of their own. Most people tell lies, but to live a lie, that would define him as the kind of human being he refused to be.

  He would not lie. Instead he prevaricated. ‘Gina, you and I need to talk more about all this: just the two of us. I’m confused even if you’re not. Rose is right, we have a future of some kind together. It’s not as though we have the option of ignoring each other. Maybe we can find an opportunity to talk about ourselves and of course Maria at my mother’s?’

  ‘I’m sorry you’re confused, Tim. I wonder why that is?’ Gina smiled, unhappy at her own sarcasm.

  ‘At least I admit to making mistakes. I can’t aspire to your icy perfection.’ Tim reverted to combative defence.

  They continued to argue for a few more minutes. Almost the opposite of what Rose and Charlie had hoped for was happening. The knots of miscommunication and misunderstanding were tightening instead of loosening. They had re-awakened the gremlins of blame, dishonesty and pain. Reconciliation and healing would have to await another opportunity. Truth waited half forgotten in the wings.

  Gina and Tim were about to embark on another circular tour of their problems when Charlie broke in. ‘Tim, why don’t you come into the kitchen with me and we’ll do the washing up? That’s what men do these days. It’s replaced retiring for brandy and cigars. Although I suppose we could all wind down later with a brandy nightcap?’ His humour fell flat but the atmosphere began to ease slightly. They’d all had enough.

  Tim was glad to take the exit option. Once in the kitchen, he and Charlie spun out their escape into domesticity, chatting inconsequentially about their mutual interests of football and the problems of the world. Tim, tight and upset after his moral mauling, began to ease up. In the background they could hear the murmur of the women’s conversation, now warm and intimate, unexpectedly interspersed with outbursts of laughter. Not for the first time it occurred to him that there was some wisdom in the occasional ritual social separation of the sexes.

  Perhaps it was the effect of the brandy nightcaps but both Gina and Tim slept well, albeit separately. No favour was sought nor would it have been given. They faced the new day refreshed. Having done justice to a substantial early breakfast Maria was also bright and ready to go. After a more than usually demonstrative farewell, they headed north, a direction that, as Gina (not a northerner) observed is signposted as ‘North,’ seemingly however far north one goes.

  From Birmingham the road to the north begins to open up, psychologically if not physically. The nominal change is from the M1 to the M6 and the sign-posted towns and cities are still those of middle England, such as Stafford and Stoke, but the names of the conurbations of the North West, Liverpool and Manchester and, on the other side of the Pennines, Sheffield and Leeds, begin increasingly to appear on the road signs. Eventually Whitetown begins to be featured and by then, ‘home’ for Tim is barely fifty miles away.

  On this occasion Tim decided not to take the route of the grey concrete highway. He knew or thought he knew a more scenic journey along the leafy back-roads of Staffordshire. He was right about the scenery. West Staffordshire lacks the impact of the rugged landscapes to the east and north but its hedgerows and flatlands are neatly picturesque. For a couple of hours the three of them chugged along, the two adults enjoying the views and satisfied at avoiding the noisy motorway and Maria snuggled close to her mother finding plenty to comment on in the passing landscape.

  It was only when they stopped for a snack in the village of Keele close to the eponymous university that they realised they were scarcely halfway to Whitetown. A call to Teresa, warning her that they would be at least an hour late – in fact, it was likely to be closer to two – elicited an anxious, barely coherent response. In recent years Teresa had begun to worry compulsively when Tim was on the road to visit her, and any disruption to the journey tipped her close to panic. He briefly considered trying to raise her spirits by reminding her that she was about to see her granddaughter for the first time, but dismissed the idea as likely to backfire. These days she found cause for worry in almost anything.

  Now tense, Tim pocketed his mobile and turned to Gina.

  ‘We’ll have to get onto the motorway. It’s much quicker. God knows what state she’ll be in if we take another two hours.’

  ‘Where’s the nearest access point?’

  ‘There’s a service station about a mile from here. From memory it’s possible to get onto the motorway from there, although technically it’s not allowed.’

  ‘You mean it’s illegal?’

  ‘Not exactly, it’s just not flagged up as a numbered access point.’

  ‘It’s up to you, as long as you know what you’re doing. But if we can’t get onto the motorway we’ll have wasted a few more minutes.’

  Taking this as an endorsement Tim headed them off towards the service station. It was the wrong move. Where years ago there had been an open access point, there was now an electronically operated gate. About twenty yards on the other side was what appeared to be a control cabin. Tim shouted to attract the attention of whoever might be inside. There was no response. The gate remained shut. His stress level several notches higher, he turned the car round and headed back towards the scenic route, but with a much-reduced sense of enthusiasm.

  ‘I won’t say I told you so,’ commented Gina.

  ‘So I hear.’

  ‘Well I did say,’ she cut herself short.

  Realising she was being unhelpful, on impulse she reached out and began to rub his neck and shoulders. ‘Tim, you’re absolutely rigid. I’ll try to loosen you up.’

  He leaned back into the movement of her hands increasing the intensity of her touch. ‘That feels good. I’d forgotten you have healing hands.’

  ‘Had you now?’

  ‘No, not really, I just try to forget. It’s not easy.’

  She tugged his long hair – quite hard. He wondered if this was a rebuke for his original fall from grace or for his inability finally to let go of her. They lapsed into silence. She kept the massage going for several minutes, attentive and comforting enough for him to muse that perhaps, after all, the hair tug was a display of frustrated affection.

  Gina’s touch had taken the edge off Tim’s tension, but he was still feeling troubled. He wished he had been more receptive to her the previous night. How many more opportunities would he get? He knew his mixed messages reflected his emotional confusion. His mood worsened again as they got closer to home, his thoughts shifting to his mother’s depressing plight.

  Maria had picked up on her parents’ frustrations and pitched in for some attention herself. They were barely a few miles north of Keele and not yet even on the motorway when she insisted that she needed a pee. They pulled over at the sight of a glass verge. The outcome was a windblown performance of spectacular inelegance. Once on the motorway her urgent requirement was for a cold drink and later another pee. In between she was querulous and bored. Refusing suggestions that she take a nap she demanded instead to be told stories. Her parents were in no mood to do battle with her and resigned themselves to a holding strategy. As it happened by the middle of the second story their daughter was sound asleep.

 
Tim’s ring of the doorbell was answered not by his mother but by an anonymous looking though anxiously friendly man who turned out to be Tony Smith, a social worker and his main recent point of contact.

  ‘Mr Connor can I have a few quick words with you before you greet your mother?’

  ‘Go ahead.’ He paused for a moment turning to Gina. ‘Gina would you mind waiting with Maria for a minute, it will be better for Teresa if we all go in together.’

  As he said this, the thin, strained voice of his mother came from the living room. ‘Timothy, is that you? I’m not very well you know. I’m glad you’re here.’

  Tim changed tack.

  ‘Gina on second thoughts, do you mind going in and taking Maria? Why don’t you introduce her to her grandmother? I’m sure you’ll handle that better than me.’

  ‘Ok but be as quick as you can,’ replied Gina.

  Tim turned to Tony Smith, who looked nervy but determined to say his piece. ‘I’m afraid your mother’s had a bit of a turn. It’s the worse she’s had so far.’

  ‘For a moment Tim was nonplussed. The phrase ‘a bit of a turn’ sounded like something that might happen in Strictly Come Dancing rather than in his mother’s increasingly sedentary life. Smith’s next remark clarified matters.

  ‘Yes, quite a bad turn. She fell over in her bedroom and was unable to operate the emergency communication system. It was a couple of hours before we caught up with her – when one of the carers visited. Your mother was quite confused and distressed. Fortunately though, she wasn’t physically hurt. We had her checked by her doctor.’

  ‘You’re sure there’s no physical damage?’

  ‘That’s what he said.’

  ‘Did he say anything about her mental state?’

  ‘He said she was disoriented. And as you know in the long term she’s got irreversible dementia.’

  ‘I know but I believe its progression can be slowed with activity and stimulation. I intend to help her choose a care home that provides that. I’ll try to fix that up during this visit. It’s unlikely that we’ll be able to move her into a home immediately but we’ll do so as soon as possible.’