by Tara Ford
“Dot, I’m glad you’ve come round. I want to apologise sincerely for yesterday. It was a complete accident.” Grant grovelled, eyeing Charlie who stood close behind her.
“You need to stop that drinking Grant. I can smell it on your breath again. It’s no good for you. It won’t help you to cope any better. Pull yourself together, for goodness’ sake.” Dot’s attempt to whisper spared the ‘poor young children’ from hearing her opinionated advice. There was no point in arguing with her. If Alex had been around then Grant would have stood a fighting chance of standing up for himself, but without her, Dot would make short work of him.
“Dot, please – there has been a total misunderstanding. Yes, I have had a couple of drinks over the last few days but that doesn’t mean I’m turning to drink again. I haven’t been sleeping well since Alex went in hospital and the drink has just helped me to relax and sleep. You know what’s been going on here and it’s all just been a little crazy. You really have nothing to worry about with me.”
Impressed with his sorrowful plea, Grant continued. “I’m genuinely sorry about your fall. I almost went in myself,” he lied.
Charlie sat down on the sofa and nodded his head in agreement at Grant’s every word.
“Hmm,” huffed Dot, before walking through to the kitchen with Josie.
Luckily, Grant’s in-laws were only stopping for a short visit, firstly, to find out if and when Alex was coming home and secondly, to catch up with Josie.
When the phone call came, Grant was relieved to hear that Alex could come home and more relieved that he could get rid of his mother-in-law even if it was just for a short while. At least when Alex returned and the in-laws came back to visit, he would, hopefully, not be the centre of Dot’s attention anymore.
“We’ll be back later on then, if you’re going to pick Alex up in an hour,” shouted Dot as they went out the front door and slammed it shut.
I want to tease you with my tongue and play—
God, this has to stop. How can I stop her? It’s got to stop NOW.
Clutching his recently, more-precious-than-life mobile, Grant paced constantly, smoked continuously and drank copious amounts of tea, provided by Josie.
She was like Mother Teresa in a crisis, knowing what, how and when to do just the right thing. Noticing that her brother was acting unusual and that his neurotic behaviour was increasing hour by hour, she agreed with Dot that it had been a good idea for her to come over, and she was more than happy to have travelled the four hours to get here. Grant appeared to be losing the plot.
I’m sorry Rachel, this has to stop now. My wife comes home today. I love her dearly and should have never spoken to you. I’m very sorry. Grant.
Pressing the ‘send’ button, Grant sensed the slight reluctance in his thumb. Reaffirming his love for Alex, the importance of his family and thoughts of a happy future once Alex had recovered, helped him to make the right and only decision to end this farce.
I do understand but your desire for me makes your rod stir and the thought of penetrating me deeply makes you hot. Rach xx
Her insatiable appetite tormented and worried Grant to the point of sickness. He had seen the ‘bunny-boiler’ film, Fatal Attraction, and didn’t fancy explaining rabbit stew being on the menu, to Alex or the kids.
But strangely too, he was drawn to the messages and an overwhelming urge to read each and every one, which just aided the failing of his normallycool composure.
Alex
“Morning,” hollered the habitual operator of the tea trolley as she pushed and pulled the cranky metal carrier, manoeuvring it around every obstacle with ease. She was an expert in her field.
Startled, I awoke, deliriously plagued by memories of Grant’s last evening visit. The recollection of my incredulous words, which had teetered on the very edge of another altercation, sent shivers through me. Attempting a smile, I nodded my head at the sweet-natured lady waiting dutifully for the ‘yes please’ gesture from yet another dopey, sleep-deprived patient.
The comings and goings on the ward, just outside the door of my room, were like watching a television programme with the volume turned down. I lay motionless and stared into the middle distance as the business of doctors’ morning rounds began. A cloud of hopelessness hung above my head as I turned thoughts over and over in my mind.
Is Grant really hitting the drink hard? Has he lost it again? Did he really try to push my mum into the lake? No, he wouldn’t do anything like that, he’s driven to distraction by Mum but he wouldn’t see any harm come to her... would he?
The doctors came, reviewed, decided and then left.
I was going home, but I wasn’t as excited at the thought as perhaps I should have been. I dreaded hobbling through the front door to find that mayhem had rampaged through my house. I wasn’t capable of restoring order and taking over at the moment, as I had to learn to walk properly again.
The doctor and physiotherapist had said it would take a few weeks for my muscles and nerves to heal and correct themselves. I was an enigma, and they were still pondering over ideas and reasons for the strange assortment of symptoms. The one thing they were sure of was that my immune system had tried to kill me off, but they didn’t really know why. I supposed that I should feel lucky that I hadn’t succeeded in killing myself, however bizarre it seemed.
So that was it, I was going home this afternoon.
Nurse Jenny came into the room carrying a set of clean sheets and pillowcases, wearing a big grin on her face. “Morning Alex, how are you feeling today?”
“I’m going home.” I smiled, as the sudden and unexpected rush of euphoria hit me like the shock of walking into a lamppost.
“Yes, we’ll get you all sorted out. You’ll be leaving after lunch. They want some more blood before you go, I’m afraid to say.”
“They can have as much as they like as long as I have enough left to get out of here,” I laughed, suddenly realising just how pleased I was to be leaving, to go home, to see the kids, to be with Grant, to be in my own bed, to get my life back. “Jenny, would you be able to call my husband and tell him to come and collect me?”
“Yes, of course I can do that.” Marching out of the room, her short legs moving rapidly, Jenny headed for the reception area as I watched through the door.
This was it. It was over. The life-changing experience of my illness had made me realise just how important my health was and how precious my family were to me. It had also made me realise that I had to change my ways a little – well, a lot. Re-evaluating my obsessive, controlling traits would be a good start to the new me, and probably a happier, more relaxed me, and possibly a calmer, more independent family.
There wasn’t exactly much to pack when Grant turned up looking, once again, haggard and somewhat preoccupied. I’d managed to dress myself in the clothing I wore upon arrival (excluding any underwear) and was astonished to find that I had lost quite a lot of weight. My work clothes hung from me like the skin of a Shar Pei dog. Great start to a new diet, I thought as I smiled at my unusually anxious husband.
“Are you okay, Grant?”
“Hmm,” he barely mumbled as he stood with his hands in his pockets, staring out of the window at the expansive, summer-like view.
“The porter is bringing a wheelchair to take me down. Do you want to wait here or go back down and I’ll meet you at the entrance?”
“I’ll wait.” A forced smile etched on his face, Grant turned to look at me with dark, secretive eyes. For a moment I wasn’t sure if I knew him at all.
Struggling into the passenger side of the car, I lifted my heavy legs inside and sniffed the comforting scents from home. Blinking back burning tears, I would not allow Grant to see my weakness as we pulled away from the hospital. The bright, warm sunshine filtered through the windscreen, gently heating my hands and face. It was so good to be alive, and to be out.
“What’s wrong, Grant? You’ve hardly said two words since you arrived.” I spoke quietly and calmly, feeli
ng upset by his lack of excitement about my return home. Staring thoughtfully at the busy traffic we were merging into, I waited for what seemed like an age for him to reply.
“Josie’s at home,” he snapped abruptly.
Instantly averting my gaze from the slow-moving queues, I looked directly at him, startled by his words.
“Why? When?”
“Your mother called her to come and look after the kids – and me!” he blurted without taking his eyes off the cars in front.
“Bloody hell, what on earth for?” Confusion, doubt and annoyance surged through my mind. The fact that Grant called my mum ‘your mother’ suggested he was furious about the situation, and although I loved Josie dearly and enjoyed her company, I didn’t want her to be there when I arrived home after being away for what seemed like a very long time.
“Because your mother thinks I’m a drunkard, I expect. She thinks I can’t cope with anything and I’ve turned to drink again like I did in the past.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, Grant took out his cigarettes and lit one while steering with his knees. “She also thinks I’m a child-beater, a cruel sadistic arsonist and a potential murderer.”
The traffic moved along slowly as he opened the window, inhaled a deep breath of smoke and aimed the exhaled blue remains of his fix outside. He was clearly very annoyed. He never smoked in his precious car. I wondered for a moment if he really was losing the plot again. How much had he been drinking while I was in hospital?
“We’ll sort it out, don’t get all stressed out about it. You know what my stupid mother is like. She always goes over the top. It’ll be nice to see Josie again though,” I lied. I’d been so happy and excited to be going home to see the kids, get the house back into some sort of order, survey the damage to the kitchen and deal with it and generally get back to a normal way of living. Normality for me was like standing in the kitchen buttering slices of bread and slapping salmon paste all over them and I couldn’t wait to do it again.
The low, humming vibration of Grant’s mobile phone told me he had it on silent mode. “Your phone is ringing.”
“It’s just a message.”
“Do you want me to see who it is?” Usually Grant asked me to read his messages when his phone went off in the car.
“No, it’s probably Jeff asking how you are,” said Grant, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. “I’ll look when we get home.”
The road was clearing slightly as we pulled onto the dual carriageway out of the city and he put his foot down on the accelerator, pulling out into the faster lane.
Pinewood Avenue was just as I had left it on the previous Friday night, an idyllic part of the suburbs, picturesque and peaceful in the afternoon sun. Jumping out of the car, Grant briskly walked around to my side and helped me out. I knew that he feared getting caught up by Evelyn across the road. Her hawk eyes didn’t miss anything in the street and she would be here faster than a swooping bird of prey, which was a surprising feat on her spindly legs.
Staggering awkwardly to the front porch under Grant’s strong arm of support, I managed to hold myself up against the wall as he opened the door. The smell of home came pouring out, along with a shower of familiar noises, music and voices. Everyone was home. Any moment soon, I knew I would be cuddled and crushed to within an inch of my life, but this was what I’d been waiting for.
Buzzing with euphoria, I relaxed back in the soft, black leather recliner and sipped the sweet, milky coffee. It was wonderful to be home with my family, and actually it was fabulous to see Josie too. Her constant buffoonery shook the whole house and lifted everyone’s somewhat dampened spirits. Even Grant’s from time to time.
Jack moped around the house, wishing he’d taken the offer of a last minute one-week holiday with his old friends to Spain, which he had turned down because I was in hospital. His black eye had spread further around his cheek and down the side of his nose, but he did now see the funny side to the accident at the hospital with the wheelchair.
So did Josie. In fact Josie set the scene in a way that we had not seen before and turned the whole affair into a hysterical farce. This was her forte, turning bad situations into humorous ones, and even the kitchen fire had been a victim of her ridicule, but it was just what the doctor ordered.
I’d seen the devastation in the kitchen but felt more concerned and aggrieved by the lack of washing up and cleanliness, and worse still, the lack of edible food in the house. The fridge contained a number of festering items which had turned into miniature evergreen gardens, with touches of blue to add colour. Unable to move around easily or hold myself upright for long periods, I left the kitchen worries and decided to deal with them tomorrow.
Apparently everyone had been living on takeaway food or a snack from the local corner shop, and Josie wasn’t the best of people to clean or sort out other people’s mess, and why should she? Her job as the family comedian kept her more than busy.
Knowing that I should delegate the cleaning and sorting out to everyone else, I cringed at my old habits resurfacing. I had to do it all myself, in my own time.
Aaron and Joe’s apathy was more than apparent as they sat in the living room with me, aloof and haughty, with the only brief respite being when Josie came out with a quirky, comical comment. Their silent protest was an act to gain my attention, to get their ‘old mum’ back. Both boys had grievances they wanted to discuss but they were biding their time, knowing that I was relishing the notion of being home.
Joe wanted a good old moan about his bike being stolen but knew it would raise other issues, like why he never locked his bikes up (although to be fair to him, he had locked this one up) and why he and Grant had gone out searching for the culprits in the early hours of the morning.
Aaron was annoyed about his smashed phone, and whether he used it much or not, it was his phone and now it was in pieces. He also still wore a cloak of guilt for several reasons: it was his fault that Jack had a black eye, it was his fault that I had a bruised and scabby face, it was his fault that his dad had to pay Jack 70 pounds for his ticket home from Wales... in fact everything was probably his fault.
As for Emma, she sulked with a passion. She was an expert at it. She huffed and puffed about the letter and the jobs she had to do to pay for the school locker. She bemoaned her sore thumb and the embarrassment she had gone through – not her fault of course! And she scowled generally, just because she could.
Grant was something else. He was on edge. I could sense the unsettled, jittery tones in his voice and his manner. Something else was going on that he hadn’t told me about – yet. I would get it out of him eventually, after all I was an expert interrogation officer.
“Grandma and Grandad are coming round in a minute,” shouted Aaron from the living room. I’d managed to get up the stairs unaided, although somewhat undignified, by bumping up the stairs one by one, backwards, on my bottom. The physiotherapist had advised me to avoid stairs if I could or go up them sitting down, as the control of my legs was still erratic. The last thing I wanted was to fall and end up back in the hospital.
“I’ll be down in a minute.” A hot bath had been just what the doctor ordered and I felt more normal than I had in the last few days. Some clean underwear and my old pyjamas was another prescription I had required, and I didn’t care who might turn up to see me wearing them.
Bumping back down the stairs, feeling rather foolish but stubborn as ever and refusing any help from anyone, I arrived eventually, in the sorry kitchen.
Josie and Grant were filling the dishwasher with disgusting, four-day-old plates and clearing away the rubbish of countless takeaway containers and chip wrappers. The swing bin was overflowing with rubbish and the smell of rotting food lingered, along with the new sooty fragrance. Pallor covered Grant’s face, he was obviously anxious about the arrival of his in-laws.
“Oh my goodness Alex, look at you.” My mum squeezed me tightly while I peered over her shoulder at Dad. “Where have you disappeared to? You’ve lost a lot of
weight in such a short time. You look gaunt, Alex. Are you feeling any better?”
“Yes I am Mum. It’ll just take time to get back to normal completely.” Pulling away, I looked towards Grant, who appeared to be cowering in the corner.
Mum glared at him as she sat on the sofa next to me.
“I’ve tried to ring your mobile a couple of times Grant, have you switched it off? I wanted to know if you were still at the hospital, and whether it was definite that Alex would be home.” Her eyes bore into his menacingly.
“Yeah, sorry Dot, I haven’t had it turned on.”
“Well it was on in the car because Jeff text you, didn’t he?” I asked suspiciously. “Or was it Mum’s text?”
“Yeah, I’d just turned it on then and it was Jeff” said Grant as he rolled his eyes in annoyance at the constant interrogations.
“You didn’t mention that Mum had texted.”
“No I forgot,” replied Grant looking decidedly uncomfortable.
Catching up with Mum and Dad was a tetchy affair for both Grant and my mother. There were a few sarcastic remarks from Mum, which Grant didn’t bite back at, surprisingly. In fact he was unusually quiet and acquiescent.
Dad sat quietly, gazing at the television, nodding in agreement or shaking his head in disagreement (which was very rarely) at appropriate moments during Mum’s verbal onslaught.
Wisely, Josie had decided to keep out of the way while I chatted with my parents and retired to the spare room for an early night – she was going home in the morning.
The boys had left, after their embarrassing kisses, cuddles and ‘cheeky-chops’ pinches, to see a film at the cinema.
Emma sat in her room, sulking. Peeved that she hadn’t been able to go to the cinema with the boys, she chose to stay out of the way of Grandma’s cheek-pinching for a second time today.