‘Yes, according to my son, we created a daughter together. Let me get you a drink.’ Christopher Webb stood up. His white hair was covered by a smart hat, his long black coat still on, despite the roaring fire in the cosy pub in Polhampton. ‘It’s the least I can do with you getting the bus out here.’
‘Well, you’ve come all the way from North Devon.’
‘It takes less time than the old Cockleberry Bay bus, I should imagine. Anyway, what’s your poison?’
‘Just a ginger ale with lots of ice, please.’
Christopher returned to their table with a pint of bitter and Mary’s sparkling drink. He sucked away on an empty pipe.
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked.
Mary really didn’t know what to say. She was grateful for Christopher when he started speaking again.
‘How Rosa found me was because my name was on the birth certificate, so you were obviously certain the father was me.’ He could see the pained look on Mary’s face and put his hand on top of hers. ‘I’m not here to be angry or cross or any of those things. I bury people every day. I know that life is short and that the here and now is where we should be living, not the past. I guess I’m wishing you had told me, as I could have helped you. Could have been a part of Rosa’s life. She seems like the bonniest girl.’
‘You’ve met her already?’
‘Just in passing.’ Christopher sighed. ‘She didn’t know who I was then. Have you spoken to her about me yet?’
‘No, I’ve been avoiding her. You see, she left me a message, told me what she knew. I wanted to talk to you first and, shameful as this sounds, I don’t remember much about that night I was with you,’ Mary managed to say. ‘In fact, I don’t know anything about you really – and, well, she deserves the full truth now. So, when did you get this letter from her? I was going to say I can’t believe that Rosa went through my private things, but now she’s pregnant…’ Mary remembered her asking about her dad ‘…well, I expect she wants to be able to tell her child who she is, who they are.’
‘In short, I didn’t get the letter.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘The letter was sent to my London address, the place I inherited from my parents. I was living in Devon then, but Nate – my son – he stayed there. He’s always been a troubled one, which, sadly, has a lot to do with his mother leaving us both. He didn’t want to move down to somewhere “where everybody is already half-dead” – his words, not mine.’
‘He and his half-sister have more in common than they think.’ Mary sounded woeful.
Christopher nodded. ‘Yes, they do. Anyway, he opened the letter to me in which your Rosa wrote that she hoped she had found me, but also in it she mentioned about the shop that she had inherited. I think in his deluded mind, my boy thought maybe he would be in for some of the bounty, as they could be related. Then when he came down here to work for Sea and Save and get closer to her, he heard that Rosa was giving the shop away. He must have been delighted. Nate then took it upon himself to do some proper digging, to see how best he could benefit – whether just to bid for it or reveal himself to her. All the while I was completely oblivious to this.’ Christopher sighed. ‘There was I, feeling rather proud that he was working for a charity, finally acting like a responsible adult. But then I got a phone call of the kind I am very used to getting – and it was only because he said that he had been beaten up and had no money that I came down to find him. I’ve got him out of many a scrape before, as you can imagine.’
Mary nodded. ‘What a tangled web he was weaving.’ She then laughed out loud. ‘Ha! Excuse the pun, Mr Webb.’
‘That laugh. It’s exquisite.’
Mary felt herself redden slightly. ‘So, he confessed all this to you, then?’
‘Yes, and I believe, to Rosa, yesterday. Hence her recent message to you, no doubt.’ Christopher took a drink from his pint glass. ‘The twist in the tale is rather a lovely one though. Because when Nate realised just how great a girl Rosa is, he couldn’t dupe her. In fact, he feels a compulsion now to protect her. “Peas in a pod”, was his description of them both.’
‘I’m guessing Rosa is not angry with him, then?’
‘No. Your girl has a big heart and somehow she understood. You see, he always knows he can come to me if he has money troubles. But he tries not to, and that’s when he thinks gambling is the answer. He thought getting the shop was another easy way of sorting himself out.’
‘She will understand more than anyone, because of her past. In fact, if anyone can help and guide him, it may well be her.’
‘I can only bloody hope so.’ Christopher drained his glass. ‘Relationships, eh? Whatever form they come in, they certainly need work. Did you ever marry, Mary?’
‘No.’ Mary felt suddenly sad. ‘Spinster of the Cockleberry Parish, me. Quite happy with my cat.’
‘Really? You just haven’t been swept off your feet by the right man yet.’
Mary felt herself redden again; was he flirting with her? It had been so long; she wasn’t even sure what that was any more.
‘And you?’ she asked daringly.
‘My long-term partner and I split a couple of years ago, but I’m a hopeless romantic. I still believe there is a lid for every pot out there.’ He paused. ‘Mary, I wanted to talk to you about that night.’
Mary went to her glass for comfort, but it was empty. She reached for her inhaler and took a big drag. Christopher Webb mirrored her by sucking on his empty pipe. She was scared at what she might hear.
Christopher took his time before beginning to speak. ‘After we spent the night together, I woke up the next day worried that you would think badly of me. The night before, I’d met you for the first time at the pub where you were working. The next day was your day off, so we went bowling and then drinking – and of course when you said I could stay over, being a twenty-something lad, I wasn’t going to say no, was I? The thing is…the person you had slept with before me had been rough with you, you told me. I said then of course there was no way I wanted to make love to you in case it hurt you, so we’d sleep apart. You insisted. I was weak. I was especially gentle with you, but then somehow the condom came off and, well, I said maybe you should be worried. You didn’t care, Mary. I even came in the pub the next night to see if you were OK, but you swore at me and I guess, in your drunken state, convinced yourself that I was the baddie.’
‘The demon drink, eh? Life could have been so different.’ Mary cringed at the thought of her previous drunken antics. But it wasn’t really the demon drink that was to blame, it was her own demon within: the pain of losing her mother in childbirth and, subsequently, her father. The only way she could subdue this pain was by drowning it in drink.
‘No, it couldn’t and wouldn’t have been different, dear Mary. It wasn’t the right time. Knowing what I know now about life, you needed professional help. We are where we are. Me with two beautiful kids now and you with your Rosa.’ He laughed, breaking the tension. ‘If life was perfect, it would be pretty boring.’