by Tara Ford
We all breathed a sigh of relief as the reality set in.
Dad only wanted to replicate the sinking of the Titanic visually for the benefit of the museum, and probably for mine too.
“But you’ll have to dry it out again now Charlie,” moaned Mum as she stood well away from the edge.
“Hmm,” he replied nonchalantly, as he continued to move the ship ever closer to its demise.
The park remained still and quiet as we all stood and waited in anticipation for the moment of impact.
It came.
It was non-eventful – and Dad missed it on the camera.
Reversing his propelled creation, Dad attempted to film the ship passing by the glittering white papier-mâché iceberg again.
This time Grant was in control of the camera and managed to capture some epic shots with the zoom lens stretched to full capacity.
“Can we go home now?” asked Mum, shivering on the edge of the jetty as Dad steered the liner back to shore.
“All done.” He smiled. “We can go home.”
“What about the iceberg?” I asked as Dad and Grant lifted the boat from the water and placed it firmly back onto its base.
“It can stay there.” Dad winked. “That’ll be one for the newspaper reporters.”
Smiling warmly, I nodded in agreement and put my arms around his waist.
“You are crazy Dad, but I love you.”
Parting company, Grant and I went to sit on a park bench, by the water’s edge and paused for a moment as we watched Mum follow Dad around like a shadow as he finished fastening the web straps to the inside of the car and gathered his belongings. Dad had become immune to her incessant moaning and ignored her ramblings.
“Get in the car, Dot. It’s all over now.”
“Well, don’t you scare me like that again, Charlie Stern,” she said angrily, knowing full well that he hadn’t taken any notice of what she’d been saying.
Then they left.
I felt content in the knowledge that my dad had lived his dream through to the end.
The lake had a different feel about it now. Somehow it looked colder just because there was an iceberg floating around in the middle. A few dog walkers stopped and stared at the unusual sight, and their dogs stood at the water’s edge, barking at it.
When the boat rental kiosk man arrived for duty, he was gobsmacked to find a large white object in the water. Not the usual man, this chap only worked at the weekends and had no idea how such a large, unusually shaped object could have got into the lake. More worryingly, how was he going to get it out before the pedal and row boats were hired out?
“Think it’s got sumin to do wiv that Titanic ship, mate,” said an elderly man, walking his poodle.
“Oh I see,” said the part-time kiosk attendant as he stood staring out across the water, cupping his chin in his hand and thinking of ways to pull the object out.
We remained silent and sat by the water’s edge for a long time, reminiscing.
One week later, Grant and I drove to the outskirts of the park and strolled down to the lake for three reasons. The first and most obvious was to see what had happened to the iceberg, which was now a large, crumpled heap of soggy paper and paint sat on its ply base next to the kiosk.
Secondly, my legs were getting stronger and I wanted to start exercising them properly, so a good walk through the park was ideal.
Thirdly, Grant and I had only just straightened things out between us for the second time and a Sunday afternoon stroll through a beautiful, sunny park was just what we needed to refresh our relationship.
It was far more serious the second time around and I did throw my wedding ring back in his face at one point. I slapped him, pushed him, threw a Twix bar at him (which caught him right in the eye and gave him a small black eye for a couple of days) and I tossed all his clothes into the boot of his car and told him to go and live with Rachel.
Luckily, Evelyn never found out about Grant’s new wardrobe facility in his car boot and between the two of us, we discreetly carted Grant’s clothes back in through the side gate after dark, once we’d sorted out the latest problem in our recently over-stretched relationship.
Rachel had text me back a couple of days after she received my ‘Bitch’ message. It said, You wanna give your hubby some phone sex – he loves it! Of course, Grant couldn’t deny it and told me everything there was to know, including his sad little secret about the image he used in his mind for the sordid phonecall, and I truly believed him. He was such a ‘saddo’.
Life slowly returned to normal in the Frey household. I took a few weeks off work but continued to run the business from home (when I felt like it), checking through the paperwork that Zoe dropped off and making and returning numerous phone calls.
The results from the doctors were inconclusive and thankfully the ‘big one’, the HIV test, was negative too, so I began to live my life under the notion that I had been given a second chance.
Jack came back from Spain, tanned and happy, and spent his last two weeks at home with me before returning to Germany and the population of mangy cats.
Emma returned to school, somewhat disappointed that she could no longer use her thumb injury to gain sympathy, or as an excuse to skip writing lessons, or indeed any lessons at all.
Aaron went back to college and continued to carry his worry-demon around with him wherever he went, although he had already planned his next big rail adventure to Wales for the summer.
Joe managed to get an extra paper round at the local newsagent and he borrowed a friend’s old spare bike to do them. He religiously saved nearly every penny he earned towards the purchase of his next bike and a failsafe booby-trap (just in case).
As for Grant, he was a changed man after everything that had happened in just a week or so. Somehow he was stronger, more decisive and far less lazy. The brief ‘Rachel affair’ had only strengthened our already strong relationship and it became almost perfect. After a short course of antibiotics, his infected toes healed, leaving a few barely visible scars. The only scars that would linger for longer were the mental ones, but we had the healing cream well in place for that.
Mum and Dad remained the same. Just Mum and Dad.
The Titanic did indeed finally meet its resting place in the museum, much to the relief of the curator and his team.
And Evelyn shed her skin, ready for new beginnings.
Calling the Services
The firemen who put out our fires
and rescue us from terror
will also save the silly cat
that climbs the tree in error.
The ambulance whose siren sounds
to let us know it’s coming
will dash along the busy road
and send the motorists running.
The policemen who drive around
catching thieves and robbers
will help you too, across the road
to join the busy shoppers.
The coastguards who watch our seas
to save unwary seamen
will rescue them from sinking ships
and take them to safe haven.
Joan Stevens