Then Gramps made one of those comments that caught Beckett so off guard it rendered him speechless. ‘It got us through the grief, having each other to take care of. It was an honour, to raise my grandson on Margo’s behalf. Young Beckett is worth a dozen other babies I never got to have. I’ve messed up a lot of different jobs in my time. But not this one. This one made all the others worth it. Your mother would be proud.’
Beckett had to blink back tears as he undid the knot Gramps had tied with the car-seat straps and clicked them in properly. Not because his grandfather had said something nice. All those years it was only the two of them, he’d consistently conveyed how much his grandson meant. No, it was because of all the times he couldn’t say it any more, thanks to the damage in his brain.
Because, Beckett realised with a jolt, he missed who his grandfather had been with an ache that made it hard to breathe.
‘Sorry about Gramps,’ he said, waiting in the doorway when Mary nipped back into the house to fetch a carrier bag of nappy things because he’d not thought about buying her a changing bag, and it seemed as if she’d not got around to it, either. ‘I wouldn’t have brought him, only with Tanya quitting…’
‘Is that what people call it around here?’ Mary squinted at him. ‘Quitting? It makes it sound as if she worked for you.’
‘She did work for me,’ Beckett said, eyebrows furrowing as he automatically took the bag off her. ‘What would you call it?’
‘I think you’d better explain, because I’d call it moving out, or breaking up with you. Ending the relationship. A good old-fashioned dumping. But I’ve no frame of reference for someone who sees being your girlfriend, wife, whatever, as work. And what about Sonali? Is this a bigamist, weird-religious-sect thing?’
Beckett stopped dead halfway to the car.
‘Tanya was Gramps’ carer. She had enough of me coming back late. Sonali, our stand-in carer who’s been filling in, has a day off today. They’re both married.’ He grimaced. ‘And decades older than me.’
Mary looked at him, her mouth gaping, cheeks flushed. After a drawn-out few seconds, she hurried over to the car.
‘Okay, so I thought you seeing me writhing about honking like a dying goose was as bad as it could get, but now I’m genuinely mortified. My only excuse is being so tired my mouth has held a referendum and chosen independence from my brain.’
‘I don’t know whether it’s worse that you thought I was in a bigamist cult or paying women to be in a relationship with me.’
Beckett stopped then, and grinned.
‘What?’ Mary peered at him suspiciously.
‘You did sound like a goose.’
7
MARY
As we set off back towards New Life Community Church, I mulled over the major revelations about Beckett. He lived with his gramps, who was too unwell to be left alone. Tanya and Sonali were carers, not girlfriends or partners. His mum had died when he was young, so his grandfather had brought him up single-handed.
And while on the subject of single parents, his gramps had been like me, raising a tiny baby by himself. Now I understood why Beckett had felt so compelled to help me. He was doing it for his gramps. Or even for Margo, who hadn’t had the chance to take care of her son.
Gramps refused to tell me his name when I asked, but Beckett calmly explained that it was Marvin.
‘He had a stroke, amongst other things. It still affects him mentally and physically.’
‘Who did?’ Marvin gave his grandson a sharp look. ‘I don’t think you should be sharing information about your patients with strangers.’
‘It’s okay if I keep it anonymous, Gramps.’
‘Hmph.’ He closed his eyes, head slumping onto his bony chest a few seconds later as he began snoring.
‘When did it happen?’ I whispered.
‘Six years ago. Two weeks after I started working as a junior doctor.’
Woah. Beckett had told me he was thirty-two. Dealing with that when still in his twenties must have been awful. And Gramps was his only family.
‘Is that why you gave it up?’
He glanced over at the passenger seat, but Marvin was still wheezing softly. ‘It was why I stopped then. But to be honest, I’d had my doubts for a while. Some of the training was far tougher than I envisioned.’
‘Like what?’
