Don had ordered Josie out of the fireworks party and they headed back next door to Number Two. He slammed the door loudly.

 

‘Careful, Don, Max and Sam were wondering what was going on!’

 

‘Right now I don’t care, Josie! Now, will you tell me what this is all about please?!’ Josie felt scared, she could see that he was furious and upset.

 

‘Well, you remember Jimmy don’t you?’

 

Don sat down after pouring himself a whisky.

 

‘How could I forget good old Jimmy, eh?’

 

‘Well, there was something that I never told you at the time, Don…’

 

‘That the affair went on for longer? When you had told me that it was all over?’

 

Josie’s lip was trembling ‘Well, yes.’

 

‘I knew that already. You weren’t that good at covering your tracks, y’know! I was suspicious, so I followed you one night, when you said that you were going on a girls’ night out in Deadham...Well, I soon realised that you were heading for Jimmy’s place in Hamborough, didn’t I?’

 

‘You’ve known about that for all these years?’ Josie couldn’t believe it.

 

‘Well, yes. Eventually, I knew that you really had finished it, so I waited for you to get him out of your system,’ Don poured another drink.

 

 

I still can’t believe that you kept that to yourself…’

 

‘Anyway, Josie, enough of all that, I’m far more interested in the fact that this bloke might be Sam’s father...why didn’t you mention that?!’

 

‘Well, and I’m telling you the truth here, it didn’t occur to me that he could be until recently,’ Josie knew that that didn’t exactly sound convincing.

 

‘Huh!’

 

‘Honestly, when Ros and I were talking about the baby, I started to think back to when I was pregnant with Sam, about dates and all that….he might not be Jimmy’s son…..but…’

 

‘But he might not be mine either, yeah I get the picture! So, what do you suggest we do next?’ Don had got up and was looking at a photo of Sam.

 

‘Well, do you want to find out if Sam is really yours?’ Josie had got a bit weepy by now, and was wiping her eyes.

 

‘Of course I do! Does Jimmy still live in Hamborough?’

 

‘How would I know?...Sorry, I don’t know, better find out I suppose.’

 

‘And what do we tell Sam, how do we tell him?’

 

Neither of them had heard the front door open or close.

 

 

Tell me what? I wondered why you’d left in a hurry? What’s up?’ Sam was looking wide eyed and happy, having fun after a few beers at the fireworks party.

 

‘Well, he’s got to know sooner or later, Josie. Sit down, I think you’ll need to son,’ Don just naturally called him that, the thought that they weren’t father and son just didn’t seem possible right now.

 

***

 

Minutes later, they had explained things to Sam, in the simplest way they could think of…

 

‘This is too much to take in, it can’t be true.’

 

‘That’s the thing, son, we still don’t know for certain, that’s why we need you to agree to help with sorting things out, to take the tests,’ Don put an arm around him, but he flinched slightly.

 

‘And I have to meet this bloke, do I?’

 

Josie held his hand, but he pulled away.

 

‘Well, it would make things much easier, sweetheart.’

 

Sam’s mind was racing, not just because Don may not be his father, but because he had suddenly realised that his parents’ marriage wasn’t so perfect. In some ways, he still viewed them as a child, thinking that they had always enjoyed true love and never experienced any marital problems.

 

‘Mum? Why?’ He looked at her with tears in his eyes, feeling totally let down.

 

 

 

I’m so sorry,’ she tried to hug him, but he couldn’t let himself go totally at the moment.

 

Suddenly, Ros appeared in the lounge.

 

‘Sam? Oh, I’m sorry, the front door was slightly open….is everything OK?’ She was shocked to see everyone looking upset.

 

‘Yes, love, I’ll take you back to the party if you like?’ Don got out of his chair, but Sam leapt up quickly.

 

‘No, that’s fine, I need to get back there. We’ll talk about this later, I need some time to think things through,’ he led a confused Ros back out of the house, the sound of the fireworks almost moving the pictures on the walls.

 

Don sat back down again with yet another whisky, and handed Josie one.

 

‘Do you remember the night that we first kissed?’ Don asked out of the blue. Josie was taken aback, but began to smile.

 

‘Yes I do, how could I forget?’

 

‘You were the most beautiful checkout girl in that supermarket, every man in Nottingham was in awe of you,’ Don smiled.

 

‘Oh, now you’re just being silly!’

 

 

Your family didn’t think that I was good enough for you...and my family thought you were too good for me!’

 

‘They thought I was a snob!’ Josie sipped more whisky, hers with soda in it.

 

‘And you were, until I brought you down to Earth a bit…’

 

‘Your sisters never thought much of me at first did they?’ Josie asked.

 

‘No...but after the crash, they were there for you. More than David and Sylvia ever were.’

 

‘The crash’ was the 1975 car crash that killed Josie’s parents. And David and Sylvia Parker her brother and sister.

 

‘That’s true...Sylvia in particular is a nightmare to this day, always the troublemaker...wonder what she’s up to? She certainly tried to come between us when I had trouble conceiving Sam…’ He words tailed off as they both realised what she was saying.

 

In fact, after the stress of Fred and June Parker’s deaths, they were lucky to have had any children at all, but Sam was a baby they desperately wanted, and had assumed that he was the result of a long wait…

 

‘Anyway, about Jimmy, I think we should strike while the iron’s hot,’ said Don.

 

 

What do you mean?’ Josie asked.

 

Don had already started looking up numbers in the local phone directory.

 

‘Wasn’t his surname Hargreaves?’ Josie nodded.

 

‘Aha! Hargreaves, J.M., 36 Collins Way, Hamborough.’ Josie nodded again, realising that he still lived in the same house.

 

After a bit of persuasion, Josie dialled the number, and a familiar voice—though weathered by age and cigarettes—answered the phone.

 

‘Jimmy? It’s Josie….Josie Reynolds.’

© 2010 Danny Alborough / DJA Publications
All characters, names and situations are fictitious.
Any similarities to places or people, living or dead, are purely coincidental.