The girls made a fuss of him, pleased he was on his best behaviour, and he was all smiles and big eyes as he charmed them.
Freddie watched him closely as he interacted with his family, aware that his son was sensible enough to know that he was going to need all the friends he could get.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Maggie had hardly spoken to anyone since she had woken up in the hospital with her head heavy from the drugs used to calm her and her whole being numb with shock. She had left with her husband the next morning with a prescription for the tablets that had kept her from feeling anything too acute. And since then she had just gone through the motions.
She was pale and she looked delicate. Other than that she was her usual pretty self, but all the happiness had gone from her face. She looked tired out, sad-eyed, and she was acting almost normally except she barely uttered a word.
Her hair was perfect, and her clothes were, as always, immaculate, and she even cooked a meal for Jimmy as she had always done.
Jimmy watched his wife now as she made coffee for him, and observed her as she laid out a tray, with a plate of biscuits, a napkin and a small coffee pot. The caterers were working around her. She had not even acknowledged their presence, but he knew she was aware of them. He had been relieved when he had seen her dressed in black. He had been dreading having to force her to go to the child's funeral.
She filled the little white china pot with coffee, and she wiped the sides delicately before placing it on the tray once more. It was like a work of art, and he had no stomach for it.
She had a knack for making things look smart, stylish, she always had done. Their homes, even the little rabbit hutch they had first owned, had looked like something from a magazine. Now this house, which had finally become like the home he had always dreamed of, the house that had finally rung with the sound of childish laughter, was suddenly like a mausoleum.
He couldn't bring himself to go in the boy's bedroom. He knew that Maggie did, he had listened to her sob there in the night, the only time he had observed a proper reaction from her. When he had gone in there, though, she had pushed him away. She wanted to be alone with her grief and her hurt.
But he couldn't bear it. He knew he was not ready to see all the paraphernalia that constituted a child's life, the toys, the little slippers, the trains that had been painted on the walls so carefully.
He had gone to get a plate from the kitchen the day before and he had picked up his Jimmy's Thomas the Tank Engine bowl and he had stood there, in the huge room with its Aga and its American-style fridge and cried his eyes out.
When did the pain stop?
Maybe today, once the funeral was over, he would finally be able to make some sense of it.
Jimmy could hear the tables being erected in his front room, knew they would be covered in white damask and that the food would be exemplary. It was the least he could do for his boy's send-off.
The place would be packed out, and he just wanted the whole thing over with so he could grieve in peace.
Freddie was already dressed in his funeral garb and having a drink with Paul in the pub. Even Paul had noticed that Jimmy was blanking him, and any sympathy Freddie had felt was all but gone now. He knew that Jimmy was treating him as if he was a nothing, a no one, a fucking ice cream.
Jimmy had not returned any of his calls, he had not tried to contact him about work, he was getting what amounted to orders from Paul here, who was now a fucking go-between, and he knew Paul felt this himself. Was obviously wondering what the score was.
Freddie was fuming now, absolutely fuming. He was back to his old self. He had tried being the nice guy, and what had it got him? A fucking humungous mugging off, that's what, and he was not standing for it. Jimmy Junior's death was terrible, but his boy wasn't going to take the fucking fall for it. He had slung Little Freddie back on his pills, and he was making sure the fucker took them this time, but at the end of the day, whatever had happened in that room, Freddie felt that Jimmy should respect him and all he had stood for over the years no matter what.
The old animosity was back, and Freddie was annoyed with himself over his weakness and the fact that Jimmy had used it to take advantage of him. Well, he had learned a lesson here. He had nearly turned his back on his son, and for what? For whom? A man he had raised from the fucking gutter and who had slipped in like a snake and taken all that, by rights, should have been his.
He had seen the change in his boy. He was adamant he had not taken part in what had happened, and Joe had admitted to Freddie that he had not actually seen Little Freddie go into the kid's room that night. So he had nothing really to go on, they had just assumed it was his Freddie. He had, in effect, allowed Jimmy to cloud his judgement.
Jimmy Junior could have tied the bag himself, he was a bright little spark and Jimmy was trying to blame his boy for his own failings. They should never have left him with Lena and Joe. They were old, they weren't able enough for a lively kid like him.
He had taken his Little Freddie under his wing, and he was now of the opinion that the boy had been grievously maligned. He was only a kid, and he was now back on the happy pills and like a different person.
Jimmy, even allowing for his grief, was not making all this any easier with his fucking attitude. He was acting like he was something special, someone better than him. He was giving Freddie fucking orders as if he was a novice to the game.
It was an insult of momentous proportions. And Freddie Jackson, with his knack of rewriting history to his advantage and convincing himself that his was the true and accurate account of what happened, was once more after revenge.
Jackie was wearing a black skirt and jumper provided by Roxanna, who had also been over that morning to blow-dry her mother's hair. As Jackie applied her make-up, she wondered at the day that was overcast and chilly, and on which they would be burying a small child. It was unbelievable that such a tragic occurrence could hit their families. It must be doubly hard for Maggie, who had not expressed an interest in her child for three years. The guilt must be eating at her like a cancer.
Freddie was adamant that Little Fred must not go to the funeral, in fact, the child had been almost tied to the house. She was aware that his little cousin's death had hit him hard, and since it had happened he was a changed boy. Polite, friendly and almost annoying in his quest to be helpful and useful. It was as if he had been given a personality transplant.
Freddie had felt the change in his boy and they were now like that. She mentally crossed her fingers in her mind.
After the terrible events, Freddie had seemed pleased to see his son not only alive and well, but also trying to make up for his past behaviour. He was a model son now, and even the social workers had been amazed at his changed persona. Freddie made sure he took his pills every day as specified. She had never been able to get that child to take them, yet for Freddie he was as good as gold about it.
Freddie, though, had hardly been near poor Jimmy and Maggie, and that had confused her. Even though Maggie didn't want anyone round the house, and Jimmy said she was best left alone, Jackie had at least expected Freddie to be there for Jimmy. Yet from what she could make out he had basically left him to it.
When she had tried to discuss it with him, he had bitten her head off and the only thing she could deduce from his behaviour was that he was also grieving for the little boy. Freddie had always made such a song and dance about that child, and it had annoyed her because he had rarely done that with his own kids. She knew it had upset Maggie too, and she had seen her almost wince when Freddie had picked the child up and thrown him into the air. Jimmy Junior had screamed with laughter, and been thrilled at all the attention. Her own son had sat there watching the little display with his usual stoic demeanour, and she had felt Little Freddie was probably wishing his father had bothered to shower him with so much love and attention.