Songbird

Robin did not answer. Instead, he cast his gaze to the ground and quickened his step.

‘I’m here if you want to talk about it,’ Betsy went on.

He shook his head. ‘Some things are best left unsaid.’

Affectionately squeezing his arm, Betsy apologised. ‘Sorry. I didn’t mean to pry.’

‘I know that,’ he replied. ‘Thanks for caring anyway.’

They continued walking down the street until they reached a low wall by an area of wasteland.

‘Let’s sit down for a moment,’ Robin said. A few moments later, much to Betsy’s surprise, he began to confide in her.

‘I was just a kid of six, when my mother was involved in a car accident.’ He paused and took a breath. Even now it was hard to talk about it. ‘It took them three hours to cut her out of the wreckage.’

He could recall every moment, of every tortuous day and night. ‘She was in a coma for weeks. In all that time, Dad and I never gave up hope, even though deep down, I think we knew she would never recover. One summer’s morning, she just slipped away …’ He cleared his throat. ‘They said she didn’t suffer, that she wouldn’t have known anything.’

He took a moment to collect his thoughts. ‘Afterwards, my dad changed beyond all recognition. He used to be always smiling and joking, the life and soul of the party. He adored my mother, and when she was gone, it was as if a big part of him went with her. He couldn’t seem to function any more … couldn’t work, didn’t sleep. For days he just wandered round the house in a trance.’

He grimaced. ‘Dad was well qualified. From an early age, he always loved animals; his one burning ambition was to have his own veterinary clinic. When he left college he became a junior assistant at the local vet’s … worked his way up, and now he has four reputable clinics across Bedfordshire.’

Betsy was impressed. ‘That’s quite an achievement,’ she said. ‘And were you never interested in joining him?’

Robin shook his head. ‘Before I started school, I’d go with him on his calls sometimes.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘It was all a bit scary and bloody.’

‘But it didn’t put you off wanting to be a doctor?’

‘No, just the opposite. It made me want to help ease pain and suffering … but in people, not animals. So, in one way, I suppose my ambitions were much the same as my dad’s. Although he can’t seem to grasp it that way.’

Looking down on Betsy, he went on in quieter tones, ‘At first – after the accident, I mean – the way it was, I began to think I’d lost both my parents.’

The girl was tempted to comment, to reassure him, but then she realised he needed to open the door which he had kept locked for too long, so she remained silent and let him speak.

‘I was just six years old. He was my dad but he didn’t even seem to know I was there.’ The boy’s memory of it was still vivid.

‘We never sat down to a meal any more. It was either curry or Chinese from the local take-aways, or beans on toast and Lyons individual fruit pies. He left me to my own devices for days on end. You see, he forgot that I, too, was desperately missing my mother.’

He still recalled the sense of helplessness and loss. The awful loneliness.

‘After a while, Dad went back to work. It was as if he went from one extreme to another. This time, he drove himself like a mad thing – with extra clinics, longer hours, home visits … anything so’s not to be in the house. I was only a kid, but I learned to fend for myself. I would get up, wash, dress and go off to school in the village, never knowing if he’d be there when I got back. Not knowing if he would ever come home!’

Robin gave a wry little smile. ‘I never told anyone how things were at home, so nobody bothered. I went to school and all I could think of was my dad, and … everything. One afternoon, my teacher came round and told Dad how I was falling badly behind in class; it made him realise how much he’d neglected me. After that, things were better. He talked to me, about my mother, and how much he missed her. He would hug me and cry, and tell me how sorry he was that he hadn’t been looking after me. But he never once asked me how I felt. Inside, I was crying too, but he couldn’t see that. He couldn’t see past his own grief.’

Betsy gently urged him on. ‘What was she like, your mother?’

He smiled, a soft, loving smile. ‘Best mother ever. She was caring and understanding. And small, much like you. She always knew what to say and when to say it. Oh, and she could be so funny. She made us all laugh with her silly jokes and made-up stories.’ His voice caught with emotion. ‘She was more than my mother. She was a special friend. I never felt lonely when she was around.’

When the emotion threatened to overwhelm him, he took a moment to compose himself before going on. ‘After my teacher came round to see him, Dad worried they might send social services to check up on us. So, eventually he found a married couple to come and stay. Joan and Tom were lovely – they were a great help to Dad on the farm, and Joan used to make me all my favourite puddings. I was so upset when they went to live at the seaside. Dad was, too.’

An enormous grin suddenly spread over his face. ‘After that, we had Sheelagh. I’ll never forget her, Betsy. She made our house really happy again … But I’ll tell you all about her some other time. Still miss her, all these years later, you know. She was like a second mother, for the short time she was with us. As for Dad, looking back, I think he fell in love with her, only to be left alone again.’

Restless, Robin got up. ‘For a while when Sheelagh left us, he seemed hellbent on destroying himself again. He turned his back on his business … leaving things to his accountant. It was another really bad period for us – one minute up, the next down. The turning-point came when two of Dad’s best vets left the practice and he had to close down one of his clinics. Then he discovered that his accountant had been stealing huge amounts of money from him. He finally came to his senses, got himself together and picked up the reins. He built on what he had, and now he has those four clinics within a twenty-mile radius. Somehow I got through school without making too much of a mess at it, thanks to Dave, whose mum was a friend of our family.’

Like the others, apart from Dave, Betsy had known nothing of Robin’s background. Now she asked: ‘Do you think you’ll ever meet up with Sheelagh again one day?’

Robin shook his head. ‘Dad did try to find her, but nothing came of it. He stopped looking … said she deserved to have her own life back, if that was why she had gone missing.

‘And has your Dad come to terms with losing your mother and … everything?’

‘He still lives on his own and works far too hard. I’m his only child, and that’s why he was so disappointed when I wouldn’t join him in the family business.’

‘He sounds like a determined bloke.’

‘He is. But so am I, and he won’t change my mind.’ Robin grinned down at her.

‘Do you look like your dad?’ she asked.

‘Hmm … not much. I’ve been told I take after my grandad on my mother’s side.’

‘So, what did he look like?’

Smiling broadly, Rob gave Betsy a little playful shove. ‘Oh, you know – handsome, well-built, and with this animal magnetism that women couldn’t resist …’ They were still chuckling 0a, arm-in-arm, they arrived at the phone box.

Robin asked if she wanted to come inside with him, out of the cold.

Betsy graciously refused. ‘I don’t want to eavesdrop on your conversation,’ she said, stepping back. ‘I’ll wait out here.’

As it was, she couldn’t help but pick up some of the conversation, because the evening was unusually clear, and Robin’s voice could be easily heard.

‘Yes, Dad, everything’s fine. Yes, I would tell you if it wasn’t. No, I don’t need any money – I already told you, I’m getting my accommodation and meals free at the hospital.’

There followed a short pause during which Robin turned and rolled his eyes at Betsy through the glass. ‘No, I haven’t reconsidered,’ she heard him say patiently ‘… and I wish you’d stop asking me, because it only causes friction.’

Another pause. ‘I’m in the booth at the bottom of North Park Street. No, I’m not on my own. My friend Betsy’s waiting outside.’ Another slight pause before he chuckled and said, ‘I don’t think she’d appreciate you saying that.’

The conversation was ended with Robin assuring his father, ‘You know I will. I’ve said before many times, I don’t mind helping out with the animals when I’m home. I just don’t want to do it for a living.’ He nodded. ‘Okay, Dad. Take care of yourself. Talk again soon.’

When he emerged from the booth, Betsy asked him, ‘What did you mean when you said I wouldn’t appreciate that?’

The boy grinned. ‘Oh, nothing.’

‘Tell me!’

‘Well, for some reason, he thinks you’re my girlfriend.’

‘I see. And that worries you, does it?’

Concerned that she might have been offended, Robin changed the subject. ‘He should not assume things. He has a way of doing that – like thinking I would naturally follow him into veterinary medicine, without ever actually talking to me about it.’