Harry sat framed by the glass in the back door, leaning back in his chair, stomach heaving over his jeans, undisguised by the crumpled pink shirt. He had been on the hunt for the iron the previous day, but I didn't seem to own one, so his efforts went unrewarded. Unaware he was being watched, he let me see him, the real Jonathan Dawson; I examined him as one would an exhibit in a museum, and listened to the audio guide narrated by my observant daughter.
“Are you okay?” were my first words. It was unusual for my children to pick up the phone at all these days. They preferred messaging, texting, anything but making direct contact.
“Yes I’m fine, sorry, I should have texted first, to check you were free and stuff.”
“Not at all.” I glanced back at the house where conversation appeared to be ongoing and animated. “Harry and Maddie are here but they’re fine.” I felt a wave of uncertainty pass over me, the way you do when things are off-kilter. I wanted them to be friendly, civil, but not too friendly. I wanted them to miss me, glance out of the window occasionally, not be so wrapped up in each other. I felt awkward going back in. Their lips murmured words I couldn’t make out over the rumble of traffic and the ambulance siren that came and went, changing its tone to longer and deeper as it passed. Something to do with Physics, the reason for that must be. I willed for silence to fall so I could catch their words.
“How’s Maddie?” Anna was reading my mind from hundreds of miles away.
“Fine, as far as I know, why do you ask?”
“She always worries me a bit. It just unnerves me I suppose.”
“I know what you mean, but there are plenty of reasons for the way people are the way they are. Maddie had a terrible childhood, abandonment, abuse, all of that, and she has never had what I’ve had, a marriage, a family. She has a son who has left home to live with his dad, who Maddie never lived with at all. Imagine how left out she must feel. And now in her late thirties, she’s panicking a bit maybe.”
“What about the stuff that happened with you two?”
“Oh Anna, that was nothing, honestly, and ages ago. All water under the bridge, forgotten, done and dusted.”
“But she told everyone stuff about you.”
“I know, and she had her reasons, at the time.”
“Did she though? I mean, was it true, what she said?”
It felt as if I stopped breathing then. I was at a crossroads, with cars hooting behind me. Decide. Decide. But I just pulled over onto the verge. “That doesn’t matter anymore, but it’s not like she’s holding a grudge. She’s been a good friend to me. I like her a lot.”
“What if she is holding a grudge, biding her time? I mean I feel bad now for saying it, but I just worry about you, that’s all. I don’t want you being friends with people who aren’t your real friends. It’s what you always say to me. Be true to yourself.”
I took a breath, ran my fingers through my hair and stared up at the stars. How wrong this was, this role reversal where my own daughter was playing the parent.
“Anna, you are a lovely, kind girl and I am so, so lucky to have such a caring wonderful daughter. I care about Maddie, I really do, and she deserves to have what she wants in life.”
“As long as it’s not your life that she wants.”
I took that in, then brushed it aside. “I’m sure it’s not that dramatic.”
“But I worry, Mum, about you. Not just because of Maddie. There’s something else.”
“Go on, Anna, what is it? Tell me.” I could tell there was something difficult, awkward to articulate. The pause was too long. I felt her pain, hated myself for causing it.
“The thing is, I mean this is a bit awkward to say, but…”
“It’s fine Anna. You can say anything. Absolutely anything at all.”
I felt my stomach turn over in dread, just as it had done after my misplaced message to Harry the other morning. I reminded myself that I was the parent here, that my responsibility in life, first and foremost was to her, Sadie and Josh.
So I listened. I listened without judgment, and with newly learnt humility, almost an eagerness to adjust, whatever the cost, to what she needed me to be.
Anna is an exceptional girl, woman I should say. Other parents have never ceased to marvel at how as a parent I dodged the torture that can be inflicted by teenagers during their adolescent years. Instead of rejecting me, retreating to a place of hedonistic self-obsession, feeling the world was against her and punishing everyone for it, she has always been there like an old soul, accustomed to this earth and the nature of its inhabitants. Anna would routinely get up and clear the table after meals, offer to walk the dog, smile at guests and ask how they were, and cut through any bad feeling in the house in the name of peace and harmony. But such a personality is not without its issues. She also suffered from anxiety, even before anxiety became the buzzword it is today. All that giving takes its toll. Adam and I have had to remind her to put herself first, to value her own well-being before tending to the needs of others. Just like the lifejackets and oxygen masks on a plane. Put yours on first or you're no use to anyone. It’s not that I practise what I preach, but I have read the books, seen the Facebook posts, and the mantras are there, ready to be relayed at the first sign of dysfunction in others. Do as I say, not as I do...
Sadie was more of a normal teenager, as they go, with little to no concept of self-denial and a relentlessly acquisitive streak. Her wardrobe bulged with clothes bought on a whim and paid for by me to ingratiate myself with her swinging moods, and very few of the items were on hangers. Most are just stuffed wherever they could fit, pants still inside trousers, tops living in jumpers, and amongst them, plenty of things which aren’t clothes at all, theatre programmes, make-up brushes and things she didn’t know what to do with, like A level Physics revision guides.
Josh was the perfect little brother to those girls, dealing with their differences, treading on whichever eggshells they chose to place in his path, and above all, asking for nothing more than a few thousand calories a day and some bigger shoes, longer school trousers, on an alarmingly regular basis. One day he may reap the benefit of having sisters, having learnt to be bossed about and then still carve his own path regardless. I was definitely guilty of trying to protect him from the world, and this probably delayed his development in some key areas. He would regularly oversleep on school days, lose his phone and forget his Oyster card, and I would step in and rescue him, because if he needed me, he wouldn’t be able to leave.
Anna’s struggle to get her words out was painful to both of us. She was between a rock and a hard place. Speak out and she would hurt me, but stay silent and there were other consequences. I said what I could to reassure her that whatever it was, I could take it, and however difficult it was to say, I would listen and do the right thing. Then, finally, she came out with it. She told me in an apologetic, half laughing, disjointed way that “It had all been a bit soon”, that “It’s nothing personal about you or Harry, nothing like that” but that Sadie and Josh wanted their space back. They wanted their house back.
I unstuck myself from the table, walked in circles on the pebbles that bordered the terrace, and digested her words, holding the phone tightly to my ear as buses roared past on the road behind. Instead of drowning her out, the traffic reinforced the message, amplifying the disquiet that was being so eloquently articulated. Sadie and Josh didn’t feel comfortable about the amount Harry was staying over. They wanted me to do something about what had for them become a new and unwelcome status quo. I gave Anna my assurance I would act on it.
“Thank you,” I said. “Thanks so much for telling me all this. It must have taken a lot of courage to say, so thank you thank you thank you.” I didn’t add “for telling me what I already knew”.
I stepped back indoors, shutting out the traffic, and Maddie and Harry barely looked up from their conversation. I stood a second until Maddie’s enquiring glance prompted me to speak.
“There’s a problem.” I said.<
br />
Harry frowned and put down his glass. It was empty, so he reached for the bottle and unscrewed the lid, slowly, his eyes fixed on me. There was a glug glug glug as he spoke.
“It’s the kids isn’t it?”
“Yes.” I said
Maddie’s eyes opened wide. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
When I remember that moment, it dawns on me that I may not have been able to confront him without the support of my friend. In our previous conversations about children, he had always been the perfect gentleman, assuring me that they would always come first, and now, as I explained that I needed to go upstairs and talk to them, he reiterated that he would do whatever was necessary, go now or whenever was needed. But I don’t think he expected an immediate eviction.
“It’s nothing, well it is something,” I stuttered.
“It’s me,” said Harry, pouring his wine, lifting the glass to his lips, eyes still fixed on mine. I turned to the door.
“I’ve got to go and talk to them.” I said.
Josh was rational, slightly embarrassed, but in agreement that the situation wasn’t really ideal. I offered him the option of Harry leaving tonight or tomorrow morning, and he didn’t choose the latter option, so I inferred that the other was the answer. With Sadie, it was a question of walking in and apologising for overlooking her needs, for ignoring what I think I must have known at some level, which was that whatever benefit, whatever fairy dust love, cooking and dishwasher stacking Harry was giving me, this wasn’t a benefit felt by her, and I acknowledged that his presence in the house had been too much, assured her that he was going to leave now, and that things would be different.
She was tearful then, and cried more as we sat around the kitchen table with hot chocolate I didn’t want but which seemed like a symbol of our reunion. My heart was doubly broken, first by Harry's swift and cold departure and then all over again by the realisation of what I had done to my daughter.
Chapter 18
Tuna
Before we reached the hot chocolate stage, there was some drama.
Getting Harry out of the house was no mean feat.
“Can I just finish my wine?”
“No. You need to leave now.” With the added strength provided by a silently supportive, still wide-eyed, disbelieving Maddie, I looked him in the eyes, a lioness protecting her cubs, suddenly completely without fear, without guilt. I went and collected his things from upstairs, I hugged him, thanked him for understanding. He stiffened and withdrew.
“Where am I going to go?”
I thought it was obvious. He had assured me Paul was fine with him using the flat until the new house was free. It was my turn to frown, but Maddie spoke up right on cue.
“I can take you to Putney if you like, no problem.”
He hesitated, patted his pockets, looked around the room.
“I can’t find my wallet.” His eyes challenged me, accusing me of things he couldn’t articulate.
I took the chance to escape, darted around the house looking for something I had never actually set eyes on, and returned empty handed.
“I must have left it at the golf club last night. Why don’t you go via there then, on the way? I’m sure it’s still open but I can check.”
“Have you got any cash?”
The words grated on me, but I produced twenty, then another twenty, and a ten from my purse, waiting for the approval light to go on. He put the notes in his pocket, his eyes no longer in touch with mine.
“I’m sorry about this,” I said.
“Don’t worry babe,” he said, turning away. “You gotta do what you gotta do.”
It was around eight the next morning that I woke up to the ping of a WhatsApp message. It was Maddie saying that he had come back to hers in the end because he had lost his keys to Paul’s as well as his wallet. They had stayed up till 4 drinking and talking. My stomach somersaulted. Why talking? What about? I pushed hard for answers but she was half asleep and didn’t know if he was awake. My imagination raced. Was he in bed with her? Fury and jealousy surged through my body, reaching every extremity in a millisecond. I had been betrayed.
It took several rings for his blurry hungover voice to answer my call. He said he’d been for a drink in Putney having realised he had no keys, didn’t want to bother me, asked Maddie instead. No mention of the fact they had been for the drink together, that she had offered her house when he had said he’d just sleep on the street. He was sweetening it for me, which I found simultaneously endearing and sickening. I calmed myself, knowing any jealousy would arouse anger I could do without, but it was simmering there anyway.
“I was angry, to be honest babe. I was angry.”
“About what?” My heart began to pound. I sat down on the edge of my bed, fear mounting inside me, my legs beginning to shake.
“The way you sent me away. It was rude. I had no time to sort my stuff out. You were handing me my clothes. I couldn’t even finish my drink.”
“But I thought you understood. You said it was okay, that you’d do whatever was needed.”
“Yes but that was no time, baby. I had no time. I had no wallet, no keys.”
“Where are they? I thought you were going back to the venue to look for them? I rang them. They were still open, waiting for you. Didn’t you go and check?”
“I don’t know babe. The thing is about me, I stash things. It’s from when I was a drug addict. I hid my valuables and it’s a habit I still have. I put things in places I think I’ll remember and then I don’t. You must have noticed that about me. I lose things.” He used the word “me” a lot.
“Where do you think they are?” I asked. “I’ve looked everywhere, but I’ll look again.”
“In your house somewhere. I don’t know. In a shoe, in something, not on something. Try your bathroom. Top shelf.”
I looked while he was still on the line. Nothing there. It didn’t make sense.
“But I don’t understand. Why didn’t you go back to the party venue?”
“What’s going on baby?”
He had deflected my question again, but this time, without thinking, I went back with a swift reply I regretted.
“I don’t know. You tell me.”
“I love you, you know that don’t you?”
“Harry…”
“Are we good? Are you and I good?” It was chorus time again, but I wasn’t ready for the chorus. I wanted clarity, and here we were again, like interviewer and politician on the Today programme. I couldn’t let it go.
“Just answer me. Why didn’t you go and look at the club, in case you left it there?”
I knew it was futile, but I owed it to myself, to my imaginary radio audience, to try just once more. He caught the ball and threw it right back at me, in my face this time.
“You know, it sounds like there’s something else going on here to me. I can tell by your voice, there’s something you’re not telling me.”
I paused, reflecting on the irony of that, but knew better than to pull him up on it.
“There is nothing going on. Nothing with me anyway,” I said, and hung up.
When Josh came in, I was texting Maddie a reply to her four messages that had arrived during the call. It was going to be a difficult balance to strike. I needed her support here and wasn’t going to reveal her as the source of my information about him in case he stopped talking to her, which would block my channel of information. I needed to know that she was on my side. Like me, Maddie had an instinct to rescue waifs and strays. I needed reassurance that our friendship took priority over that, that I was the one in need here, not him.
“Is everything okay?” Josh looked sheepish, standing in the doorway. “Have you had an argument?”
“You could say that.” I turned and smiled, reaching out for a hug, which he gave me gladly.
“What about the work experience thing he promised?”
“I guess we’ll have to see what happens. Can you ask the friend at school with the uncl
e?”
“But Mr Marshall….”
“He’s going to have to wait, Josh. Let me see what I can sort out.”
Maddie came to my house later that day unannounced, on the pretext of visiting her son at his father’s house. She breezed into the kitchen and heaped a pile of textbooks on the table, and a random can of lager, and I shut the door to give us privacy. Her eyes darted around the room, her hands were restless, moving over the objects in front of her, then onto her lap and back onto the table. Her mouth twitched, as if trying to smile, but not quite managing. I looked at her, not knowing what to think, how to be, or who she was anymore. Anna’s words echoed in my head and I batted them away, but they couldn’t be unheard now. Maddie tried to explain, in stops and starts, what was going on, why she was there.
“I told Harry I was taking Seb his books. I had a whole fake phone conversation where I pretended he was asking for a beer as well. I even said to Harry should I take him a beer and he said yes why not.”
I sank into a chair and picked up a psychology revision guide, making a mental note to read one of these one day for my own benefit.
“It’s elaborate – but kind of sad that it’s come to this. You can’t leave your own house without the permission of a homeless fantasist alcoholic?” I said "homeless" without thinking, and the word hung in the air for a second, waiting to be shot down.
Maddie would always resist blanket condemnations of people, and has an answer for every pigeon-holing platitude. She would have made a good criminal barrister, bringing up positive character evidence to counteract assumptions of guilt.
“It’s so difficult. He has spent the whole day sorting out my garden, moving plants and furniture, making it all look fabulous.”
My ego made a mental note of that. What he does for me, he does for everyone, and my insides hardened in response as another layer of trust crumbled.
The Delusionist Page 12