by June Hopkins
I don't know why I'm surprised; my life is one long shock after another lately.
Tom clears his throat and stands up straight. "Hi Annie, you look, umm, well." I note the confusion on his face and the bewilderment in his voice as he looks me up and down. This jolts me out of my shock. Bloody cheek, why shouldn't I be in my scruffs in my own home (well, parents’ but same thing). It's not as if I was expecting company. I lift my chin indignantly and move forward into the kitchen.
"Tom, this is a surprise. What are you doing here?" I ask him suspiciously.
Before he can answer, mother pipes up from the left of me. I swivel my head round to see her standing at the stove stirring the gravy.
"I invited him, Annie. Where on earth have you been? I've been struggling to keep all this warm for the last ten minutes."
My brain tries to compute. What the hell was she thinking? I glare back at her trying to think of something to say, but before any words can form dad marches purposefully into the kitchen from the dining room to the right and brushes past me.
"Annabelle, you are late," he tells me gruffly. He then takes two bottles of wine from the wine rack and heads back past me towards the dining room hissing, "You can blame your mother." I swivel my head towards him ready to ask what the hell is going on but he disappears back though the door and I hear his deep voice say, "Charles, I think you will appreciate this. Cheeky little number, 1987. I've been saving it for a special occasion. I assume meeting your grandson for the first time counts, eh?"
That's done it. I feel my jaw drop and my eyes nearly pop out of my head. My head is swiveling madly between Tom and mum now; I wouldn't be surprised if it did a full 360.
"Annie, close your mouth please, it is very unattractive," my mother has stopped stirring and is giving me her full attention. I glance at Tom who sheepishly looks away.
"Mum, what the hell is going on?" I demand angrily.
"I decided to take the lead young lady; someone had to, and I didn't tell you because I knew that you wouldn't come." She juts her chin out defiantly, daring me to argue.
"Too right I wouldn't have come and I'm leaving right now." I splutter at her. I am seething. Clearly Tom's parents are in the other room and having a fabulous time with Harry if his giggles and shouts are anything to go by. I can't believe that mum has set me up like this. Apart from the fact that I look like shit, what about Harry? You can't just dump a complete set of grandparents on him without notice. I conveniently ignore the fact that he had a father dumped on him two days ago and had coped admirably. I am sick and tired of everyone thinking that they can make my decisions for me. This is intolerable.
"Harry," I shout in a no-nonsense tone of voice, "Come here please."
Tom moves towards me and puts his hand out placatingly, "Annie please don't. Your mother was just trying to do the right thing."
I glare at him, purse my lips and raise one eyebrow in a 'yea whatever' look. His voice softens to that warm treacle tone, "Please, my parents have been dying to meet him since I rang them on Friday. Please Annie, stay, come and meet them." His dark blue eyes bore appealingly into mine; I feel myself weakening.
I turn to mum and glare at her, "You are completely out of order!" Mum takes in a startled breath and her eyes widen. She is not used to me speaking to her like this, but what the hell did she expect?
Harry runs into the room, "What's up mum? I'm playing tiddly-winks with Grandpa Charlie." I boggle at him. Grandpa Charlie. What the fuck?! Harry met the man precisely ten minutes ago and he's calling him Grandpa. This is mental. I am seriously beginning to wonder if I've been in some sort of accident. Perhaps I'm in a coma somewhere and living a parallel life here, my very own 'Life on Mars'. Maybe Gene Hunt will appear any minute, shoot up the kitchen and arrest all of these imposters. My head is aching. Taking a deep breath, I look at Tom's pleading face and then mum's hurt one. I sigh and with a forced smile tell Harry to go back and play . He doesn't need telling twice and sprints back to the dining room. I need some air and space. Snatching a large wine glass from the cupboard, I fill it with wine from the fridge and head outside to the garden without so much as glancing at Tom or mum again. I sit on one of mum’s stone benches and take two deep gulps of wine. I haven't consumed so much alcohol this regularly for years. I'll be in a shop doorway before I know it if I don't get a grip, or in a mental hospital, whichever comes first. Luckily I brought my fags with me as I had a feeling I'd be indulging before the afternoon was out. At this rate, when I meet his parents I'll be pissed, stinking of fags and looking like Vicky Pollard. Well that's just bloody well tough. They can like it or lump it. This is me and I refuse to let them put me down. I jut out my chin defiantly at this show of bravado. I scrabble for the fags and lighter. Dragging them from the bag I take one from the packet.
"Can I join you?"
I jump and spin round to find Lissa standing over me. Oh this just gets better and better.
She smiles at me uncertainly, I stare at her balefully. As usual she is perfectly made up. She is wearing three quarter length tight fitting jeans, a pretty floral top and gorgeous silver Roman sandals with straps that weave around her ankles. Her long blonde hair is held in a pony tail, her makeup is disguised to look natural and she looks young, summery and very pretty, bitch!
"Annie, please, this is horrible. I didn't mean to upset you the other day, I was just worried about you. Please can we make friends?" Her baby blue eyes plead with me; she looks suitably sorry and Mia's words come back to haunt me. Maybe Mia was right and I have been feeling bad. The last time Lissa and I fell out was over Ben ten odd years ago. I keep staring at her but my face softens and I see the hope flare on her face. She gives me a pouty puppy dog look and I laugh, can't help it. I think I'm relieved and besides, I'm so going to need a friend this afternoon.
"Go on then," I tell her as I shuffle over on the bench to make room. Lissa smiles widely at me and sits down quickly, snuggling up close and linking her arm with mine. She puts her head on my shoulder.
"Can I have one of those please?" she asks, as she eyes up my cigarette.
"Go on then. But only if you explain to me exactly who is in that dining room and what the hell is going on because I don't mind telling you I'm shell-shocked."
"You and me both mate," Lissa tells me as she takes a cigarette and waits as I light mine and pass her the lighter. We both take deep drags and sit quietly for a moment.
I speak first, "What the hell are his parents doing here?"
"Don't worry, mate, your mum didn't go that far," Lissa states with a knowing look at me.
I raise an eyebrow, "Oh really? Then why are they sitting in the dining room with Harry?"
"They turned up unexpectedly, about half an hour ago. They were looking for Tom at mine and my mother was there with Holly. She gave them directions and sent them here. Honestly your mum had no idea, which goes for the rest of us. Tom is not happy. They wanted to meet Harry so have booked into the hotel in the hope that if they stay for a few days you would allow them to meet him. Of course they got their wish a little sooner than expected. Your mum didn't really have a choice Annie. What was she supposed to do? She had to invite them in; you know your mum, she's the hostess-with-the-mostest. Next thing you know they are agreeing to stay for lunch."
I shake my head slowly, "Ok fair enough, but she obviously went behind my back and invited the rest of you."
"So it appears. I gathered that when I came through to see you in the kitchen, just in time to hear you tell your mum that she was out of order. I didn't think for one minute that you were in the dark or I promise I would have warned you. I won't make that mistake again," she tells me meekly. I raise my eyebrow at her and she smiles weakly at me.
"Look, your mum phoned yesterday evening just after Tom got back. They chatted for ages on the phone. Eventually when they'd finished he told us that we were all invited here for lunch today; she wanted to clear the air between, us all for Harry's sake. You know what she's like Annie, she
always sees the best in any situation. I think she just felt that if she forced the situation then none of us would be able to avoid making friends," she squeezes my arm. "Give her a break, hey? She only had the best of intentions at heart, you know that. Mind you, her face was a picture when Charles and Penelope turned up; talk about horrified." Lissa laughs, "Her plan took a slightly wrong turn and she couldn't stop it, so she just went with it, so please Annie don't be too angry with her. I can see her point, after all you can't avoid any of it forever, can you? And let's face it, what's the worst that can happen? Might as well get it over with in one go; face all the demons together?" She squeezes my arm again, "I'll help Annie, and none of them are your enemies are they?"
I snort loudly at this, "Great, well that makes me feel better. Jesus Liss, look at the state of me. How can I meet Harry's grandparents looking like this?"
Lissa giggles, "Yea, I have to say I've seen you looking better. What's with the face paint?"
"Mia" I tell her.
"Ah, that explains it."
I take another long gulp of wine. Looking down at my feet I notice a hole in the sock on my left foot. My toe is poking through and, unlike Lissa's beautifully pedicured painted toes, mine have the remnants of the nail varnish applied for my date with James last week. I feel like a right pleb. “I can't believe I'm going to be introduced to Charles and Penelope looking like this." My bravado abruptly ups and leaves; I suddenly feel horribly embarrassed at my appearance. Maybe I should go home and change? Yes that's it, that's exactly what I'll do. If I have to be in this position, at the very least I would like to be presentable. Stuff the lunch, they can eat without me. I'll leave the car here, go home and find something a little more suitable to wear and redo the makeup and straighten my hair before I meet them. My mind made up I feel slightly more in control, "Lissa, I'm going home to change, I refuse to meet them looking like this. You will all have to eat without me." I jump up and Lissa follows suit.
"Fair enough, you do look pretty rough," she laughs and nudges me.
We head indoors. Mum is on her own filling up her eighties hostess trolley with serving dishes. She glances up at me and defiantly raises a finely tweaked eyebrow. She is clearly not at all fazed by my anger. I inform her of my plans in no uncertain terms, ignoring her when she argues for me to stay. If I have to do this then some of it will be on my terms and if she is embarrassed because I don't have lunch with them, well frankly that is tough. I march through the hall to put my trainers back on. I struggle with them. I haven't got time to undo the laces, so end up balancing on one foot, one hand holding the wall with my big bag hanging uncomfortably off my shoulder, the other hand trying to pull up the lip of the heel on my right shoe which I have managed to fold over into the trainer in my haste.
"Ah how lovely, you must be Annie. I'm Penelope, Tom's mother."
I very nearly fall over at the shock of hearing her voice and quickly right myself as I turn to her. The trainer now sits partially on my foot. I notice her look down and raise an eyebrow at the spectacle; I also glance downwards to see my toe stuck right out of the holey sock on the other foot. Oh for crying out loud! I'm beginning to think I'm receiving payback for some terrible crime in another life. "I'm sorry, I scared you," she says quietly.
I glance quickly at her and see that she is smiling at me. Giving myself a mental shake, I collect myself and find my voice, "Um, yes, Penelope, so nice to meet you. I am so sorry, I wasn't expecting anyone to be here, I was just off home to make myself presentable. I didn't want to meet you both in my scruffs." I'm waffling, I know, and I haven't even looked at her properly. God, where are my manners? What must she think?
"Please Annie, this is our fault. We have turned up unannounced, so please don't feel uncomfortable. We are so excited to meet Harry. Quite honestly you could be wearing a bin liner and we wouldn't notice. He is fabulous and so like his father when he was that age. I am overwhelmed, I don't mind telling you." She puts out a hand and strokes the top of my arm; she has a nice voice, calm, sort of kind.
I look up at her properly. She is about my height, a slim woman, her silver grey hair is cut into a stylish bob. She has a pretty face, slightly wrinkled but clearly her skin has been well cared for; her eyes are the same as Tom's, a beautiful piercing dark blue. She has a small amount of makeup on and is wearing a pair of delicate gold earrings. I quickly take in the rest of her. She is wearing a cream fitted dress, with a sweetheart neckline and capped sleeves, nude tights and pretty sandals. I can smell the money and am in no doubt that her outfit cost a fortune. Whilst I have been eyeing her up I am more than aware that she has had her own quick perusal of me, and can only have found me wanting.
"Well Penelope, you must excuse me, I won't be long. I'll, um, get off and, um, sort myself out. You go on and have lunch, I'll be back in a bit."
"Annie, please, I won't hear of it. You can't miss lunch because of us. Please won't you come in and meet Charles? You really needn't apologise for wearing casuals in your own home, I certainly wouldn't, please." She looks at me with those familiar eyes and I feel myself relaxing. Of course she is right. Why should I apologise? And I am starving. I don't really want to miss lunch. Sod it I'll stay; I can go up and use mum's straighteners and redo the makeup. I smile at Penelope and ease my foot out of the trainer which I shove quietly up against the wall.
"Thank you for being so understanding. I'll just pop upstairs and freshen up quickly. I'll be back in a jiff.," “Back in a jiff?” Christ I'll be saying “jolly hockey sticks” next! I scoot past her and fly up the stairs without giving her time to comment.
Taking up residence at mum's dressing table, I switch on her straighteners and help myself to her makeup wipes. It takes two to remove Mia's caked on handy work. I then set about repairing the damage and find a pair of mum’s socks, replacing them with my holey ones which I put in the waste paper basket. I tie my hair up into a pony tail leaving hair to frame my face on the sides. I undo the zip of the track suit to show my green vest top which is a little on the low side but infinitely better than before. I stand up and look at myself in mum's full length mirror. I look ok, more of a casual “out for a jog” kind of look, clearly without the jogging bit but at least it's an improvement on the whole Vicky Pollard get up. God my hands are actually sweating. This is ridiculous, butterflies are starting in my stomach. I don't think I've felt this nervous since taking my driving test. I sit back down and stare at myself in the mirror, but I'm cut short by my mobile playing my latest favorite song from the depths of my bag. Rummaging around, I grab it. It's James, and without thinking I answer breathlessly, so pleased am I to see his name.
"Oh God James! How are you? Are you having a great time?"
"I'm fine babe. How are you? You been running or something?"
Oh the irony.
"Yea course. You know me, always exercising," I tell him with a smirk.
He laughs with that familiar deep throaty laugh of his and I would give anything for him to be here right now to hold me close and assure me that I'm not going mad. I suddenly feel the tears well and clog in my throat and I take a ragged breath.
"Hey, Annie, what's up? You sound strange."
"Oh God, James, everything is such a mess," I blurt out and then proceed to tell him everything that has happened in the last few days. Well everything that is, apart from the nearly shagging Tom part. I don't stop blathering on until my tale of woe has unfolded through my snot and tears. Poor James can't get a word in through my wailing and he just listens patiently until I'm done.
"Hey, hey, come on Annie, calm down," he tells me gently, as soon as he manages to get a word in. "Why didn't you tell me that he was back the other day?" he asks me with a slight edge to his voice.
"I tried but you had to rush off, remember? Something about not wanting to get naked," I sniff at him, whilst feeling a twinge of guilt for the fib, given that I hadn't exactly tried to tell him at all.
"Oh yes of course, sorry about that. I was slightly the
worse for wear and I know I told you that we were out in the desert yesterday, so my fault, sorry babe."
"It's not your fault James; if I'm honest I'm not sure that I would have told you anyway on Friday. I was still getting my head round it all."
"Ok fair enough. So the paternal grandparents are downstairs, then. That sounds like fun," he laughs lightly.
"Don't," I groan at him, "What am I going to do? I'm sooo nervous; I'm hiding up here like a naughty schoolgirl."
"Look Annie, you'll be fine. What's not to like about you? They'll love you; just be yourself."
"But what if they're angry with me for not telling anyone about Harry; for keeping him from them for all these years?"
"Now you listen to me. Yes you didn't tell Tom that he was a father, but you had the best of intentions. It seems to me that if they are angry with anyone then that should be directed at that son of theirs. After all, it appears that he has been the one keeping it from them. I can't believe he's known all this time and not said anything. Sounds like a right tosser, if you ask me. And I'm not too happy with Ben either. What was he thinking?" James's anger is apparent in his voice as he jumps to my defence.
"Oh God I don't know. I don't know anything anymore. I wish you were here James, I really do," I say with feeling because at that moment I really do wish that more than anything.
"How do you feel about him then, now that you've seen him again?" he asks suddenly catching me off guard.
I take an intake of breath while my brain tries to formulate a suitable reply to this question.
"Ahhh," his voice comes again, breaking into my clearly too long a pause with a sort of sad knowing tone to it.
My brain wakes up quickly, "James, please don't say it like that. I'm not planning to elope with him or anything. The man is engaged to a beautiful, successful woman. I don't think he has any thoughts about making a move on me." I laugh falsely as I try to lighten the mood.