Crappily Ever After

by Louise Burness

  ‘Not good at first,’ admits Mary. ‘Seems OK now, if having a nineteen-year-old Polish girlfriend named Kasia is anything to go by. She bugs me so much, she’s actually teaching the kids Polish and now they won’t speak to each other in English. I don’t have a clue what they are saying, but I know they’re probably plotting against me.’

  ‘That’s not good. Why don’t you insist they speak English at home?’ I ask.

  ‘Nah. They would do it even more if they knew it annoyed me. Besides, I thought it’d be funnier if I beat them at their own game,’ Mary gives a mischievous laugh and revs up her engine at the pensioner in front of us, who has stalled at a green light.

  ‘Shift your arse, Grandpa! Anyway, I’ve enrolled in an evening class twice a week, learning Polish. They think it’s a pottery class. Can’t wait ‘til I learn enough to play them at their own game. Also means I get to find out what the little buggers are saying about me. I’m not too bad at it, actually.’

  We head up to Uncle Robert’s house, where the whole family is gathered. The racket coming from the house is immense, with everyone talking over each other and at least seven different conversations going on at one time. It makes my restaurant on Spanish karaoke night sound tame. I arrive to lots of hugs and several,

  ‘Ooh, you’re not as fat as you were’ comments. They can’t just be nice and say I’ve lost weight. It has to be the worst possible way of giving a compliment. We all do it to each other. It’s not mean. Rather, it’s character building. Made me who I am today.

  ‘So, I hear you excelled yourself with the latest boyfriend then?’ Auntie Betty takes the first shot of open season.

  ‘Yeh, what would you know! A violent, junkie thief,’ I reply.

  ‘With a dead wife?’ asks Uncle Jim.

  ‘No. No dead wife that he told me about.’

  ‘How long did he get?’ Craig, this time.

  ‘Seven years.’

  ‘Lucky bastard. Got off lightly compared to a lifetime with you.’

  ‘Stop. Bloody. Swearing.’ Slaps from Betty punctuate each word.

  ‘Oww! Yeh right, ma. No idea where I get it from! The apple didn’t fall too far from the tree, did it?’

  ‘So how’s the business?’ Auntie Sarah, the sensible, normal one. Probably because she married into our lot instead of being born in. Same with Uncle Jim – they are the only two semi-normal ones. Even then, years of corruption are apparent.

  ‘Great,’ I enthuse, ‘we are making an absolute fortune. It’s so much fun too. You must come over next summer.’

  ‘We all are,’ says Mum. ‘Booking up for two weeks in July. Make sure you get time off.’

  ‘Ma, I’m the boss, I can do what I like,’ I laugh. It still hasn’t sunk in yet with Mum that I have my own restaurant. An entire resort subjected to the Ramseys. God help us.

  It’s so good being at home. Being cooked for again is a novelty. My sister seems infinitely happier without Bill. So do the kids. She thinks that’s what they said anyway. It was in Polish. Her flat is gorgeous – airy and bright, with an amazing colour scheme and classic furniture. She always has had good taste, well, except for in men, and she’s gone back to work, but as a window dresser this time. She couldn’t be happier. A guy from my year at school, working in white goods, has been flirting with her non-stop. She is lapping up the attention after years of being starved of it.

  I give her an early Christmas present: three tickets to Tenerife for New Year. Thanks to Bill’s various addictions, they have never had a family holiday. She is over the moon and

  phones up to tell the kids. It could wait, but I’m guessing it has the added bonus of annoying Bill. I give Mum her Christmas present too: another ticket to Tenerife. She beams at me and tells me how proud she is of what I’m doing.

  On Sunday afternoon Mary arrives to pick me up to go to her place. Josh and Jess are arriving home this afternoon and I can’t wait to see them. Before the kids get back, and she’s not allowed to swear, she gives me a lot of abuse over the three stuffed donkeys.

  Halfway through the Eastenders omnibus, two coffees and half a packet of chocolate biscuits later, there is a loud, irate beep from a car in the street. Mary stands up to look out of the window. Immediately, there’s another louder and more insistent beep.

  ‘For Christ’s sake, I’m going as fast as I can,’ Mary snaps. ’Oh, I might have known. Kasia! Why that idiot wouldn’t want to spend every moment he can with his children is beyond me.’ She makes a face at me, steps into her trainers and heads down the stairs to street level. Determined not to miss out on getting a glimpse of Bill’s new girlfriend, I shove on Mary’s slippers and follow her downstairs. Kasia is unloading the kids’ bags from the boot of her car. She straightens up and I take in her tall, slim form. With her huge chest, she looks like she could topple over at any moment.

  ‘Those can’t be real,’ I stare at Mary in shock.

  ‘Probably not, I guess it’s the reason he’s taken on a second job as a taxi driver. To pay for that rack,’ Mary coughs back a laugh. Kasia is talking quickly in Polish as she helps Jess from the back seat. I’m awestruck to hear my small niece babble away in her new found language. If it wasn’t disloyal to Mary, I’d be seriously impressed. Kasia loads up the kids with their bags and crosses her arm across her chest – with difficulty, I must say

  – and aims an attitude-laden glare at my sister. I snort with laughter. The nerve of the woman! Sorry, adolescent. Mary shoots me a look of amusement.

  ‘Tam jest twoja Mama, idz do niej,’ Kasia says to Josh and Jess. ‘Idz do niej.’ She ushers them towards Mary. I watch as my sister frantically tries to translate her words.

  ‘There is your Mother, go to her,’ Mary covers her mouth and says just loud enough for me to hear.

  ‘Pamietaj mow, po Polsku w domu,’ continues Kasia. I see Mary’s hackles rise.

  ‘Mamus sie to nie podoba!’ shouts my sister. I can’t decide who is most shocked. Jess looks at Josh open-mouthed, Josh drops his bag and Kasia’s chin drops to the ground, well almost, her boobs were in the way.

  ‘Mow po Angielsku do moich dzieci, krowo!’ Mary coolly informs her. Of what, I’m not sure at this stage. Josh laughs and Jess, seeing this is an obviously acceptable thing to do if Josh does, joins in.

  ‘Come on, where are my hugs?’ calls Mary. The children run towards her.

  ‘No you don’t,’ I stop Jessica mid-run and scoop her up, ‘I’m long overdue for a hug, Mummy can wait.’

  Mary and I walk back towards the flat with Josh and Jess. Mary suddenly remembers something and turns back towards the car:

  ‘Oh, Kasia, can you hold on just one moment please? I’ve got some toys for the kids to take to their Dad’s house. I know they don’t have many there.’ Kasia rolls her eyes and looks at her watch with a dramatic sigh. Mary runs upstairs and arrives back moments later with a large stuffed donkey under each arm. We walk back to the flat holding on to

  each other through our mirth. The slam of a car door and a screech of tyres indicates Kasia’s pissed off departure.

  ‘So, what did you say to her?’ I ask Mary, when the children are settled with juice and crisps in front of Ballamory.

  ‘I just politely asked her to speak English to my kids,’ is her reply.

  ‘So what’s a krowo then?’

  ‘A cow,’ replies Josh. Oops, I didn’t think he was listening.

  Chapter Twenty

  All too soon, the time comes to head off to Manchester airport for the Australian leg of the trip. With my fear of flying this is, undoubtedly, the ultimate test for me. Actually, I don’t have a fear of flying. I have a fear of crashing! Why do people say that it is flying they fear? That’s the easy bit. I work myself into a complete state of anxiety; I feel physically sick. Mike and Becky try their best to reassure me. I hate feeling like this. It’s so unfair to the others, but completely out of my control. Armed with my panic attack brown paper, I’m sitting in the aisle seat. That way I am free
to bolt to the loo to throw up if need be – and it also lessens the fear of claustrophobia. The only thing worse than having to take a flight, is being penned in at the window seat. Urgh! I attempt some deep breathing exercises, resisting the urge to hyperventilate. I’ve never flown on a Jumbo before. It looks clumsy and lumbering – and incapable of taking off. Mike assures me that the bigger the plane, the less turbulence – and lets me squeeze his hand on take off. He doesn’t complain once, even though I notice that his fingers have turned purple. Becky is quiet and subdued. Like something is on her mind.

  ‘Is she OK? I nudge Mike, when Becky falls asleep.

  ‘Call from Bob,’ he whispers. ‘It’s unsettled her, been quiet all week. I don’t know if he’s hoping to get back together with her. I can’t see why else he’d call.’

  ‘She won’t seriously be thinking of getting back with him, Mike. No way, she loves you too much. You’re going to get married, and he was a total shit to her,’ I whisper back.

  ‘I know,’ he sighs, ‘she reckons he’s heard from her Mum how well she’s doing in Tenerife. He want’s her to be pining for him. Her life must seem so exciting to him now. That’s all,’ he says with finality. Subject closed.

  I glance over at Becky and her eyelids flicker. I reckon she’s awake and has been listening.

  No, Becky, I try to tell her telepathically. Don’t even be considering it. I ponder on this thought; what if she and Bob did get back together? Becky would have to leave. I would miss her so much. I don’t know if I’d want to continue with it, she makes it so much fun. It would be down to just Mike and me to keep the business going. I just can’t imagine it without Becky. And if they did break up, I would lose faith completely in love. I shake my head in an attempt to physically remove the thoughts. It won’t happen, so why worry?

  After what seems like an eternity, I wake to hear the announcement that we will be shortly be arriving at Sydney airport. I shift in my seat, no longer able to feel my bottom. I’m numb all over and desperate to stretch out horizontally.

  ‘I’d like to take this opportunity to welcome all our passengers to Australia. The temperature in Sydney today is thirty-six degrees and sunny. Please fasten your seatbelts as we begin our descent,’ the Australian pilot says chirpily. Easy for him, he does this every day.

  ‘Nooo,’ I mumble. This is the worst bit. Actually, just before take-off I say that was the worst bit; on coming into land, I declare that’s the bit I hate most. Mike smiles reassuringly and offers his hand. I grip on tight, gratefully. The liar Mike is! Less turbulence in a Jumbo, my arse! He also forgot to mention there would be a four-hour stop off in Abu Dhabi to refuel. Said it was better I didn’t know there were two take-offs and two landings to worry about. He was right. It meant they got a bit of respite from my stressing. It’s actually impossible to stress constantly on such a long flight. It’s far too exhausting. I had actually calmed down around two hours into the journey. About the same time the fourth vodka kicked in, come to think of it.

  With shaking legs, I make my way to the baggage claim. All of us still smarting indignantly at having been sprayed with some kind of disinfectant on the plane. How rude! We collect our bags and head off to find a cab to take us to our hotel. Mike is exhausted with jetlag and heads off for a sleep. Becky seems a bit cheerier, so I suggest heading out into Sydney for lunch. We walk through Hyde Park to Oxford Street and find a café bar with an outside seating area. Great! I now have a chance to grill Becky about Bob. We sit down under the shade of a tree and eat our lunch of Thai noodles and two glasses of Australian white wine. The sun is glorious after the chill of Scotland. Australian summertime: how strange and un-Christmassy. On the way to the bar Becky and I had laughed at the Christmas cards with snow and robins, that we saw in shop windows. Why would Australians choose to send those to each other? We decided to ask a passing Aussie. He had no idea, but said they always had done.

  I wait until after we have finished lunch and then tentatively approach the subject of Bob.

  ‘So, Mike says you had a random caller the other day.’

  Becky screws her face up.

  ‘Yes, Bob called. Wanted to see how I was.’

  ‘And how did Mike take it?’

  ‘Oh, fine, I guess. He was a bit weird though. He wants to come out to Tenerife to visit us soon, maybe in January.’

  ‘And do you think that’s a good idea?’ I enquire.

  ‘God, I don’t know,’ Becky shakes her head sadly, putting down her chopsticks, ‘I mean, I thought I was totally over him, but I’m not so sure any more.’

  ‘You’re not thinking of taking him back, are you?’

  The very thought leaves me aghast, and not just because it will end in tears and two months of soup-making duties – again. I feel really bad for poor Mike. Dumped by Sam, and now possibly by Becky too. He deserves better.

  ‘I really don’t know, Lucy,’ Becky looks pained. ‘I honestly can’t say I don’t want to. That would be a lie.’ She looks down at her hands in her lap. ‘It would kill me to leave Mike, but I don’t know if I want to be with him anymore.’

  Good God no! It’s the worst-case scenario.

  So, until Becky makes her decision, I am left stuck between a rock and a hard place. I care about both of them. I don’t want to worry Mike in case this is just a blip and things settle down when we get back to Tenerife. I do my best to constantly remind Becky what a shit Bob was to her, and how he didn’t care about her feelings when he broke it off. His work fling didn’t last. He wanted a bit of excitement as he had felt he and Becky were stagnating. He quickly realised he had nothing in common with this other girl, out- with the sheets, and woke up to the terrible mistake he’d made.

  ‘He would do it again,’ I reiterated over and over. Hoping some of it may stick in her brain. I try my best to have a good time. Becky cheers up and Mike is seemingly oblivious to the dilemma in her head. We visit Circular Quay, Coogee, Bondi, Manly and Palm beaches. We climb the Sydney Harbour Bridge and explore the markets around the Rocks area of the city.

  ‘We have definitely got to come here again,’ Mike says to both of us. Becky and I exchange a look. Will there be a next time? I know it’s what we are both thinking. I decide to head off to Adelaide for the last week and let them have some space. Maybe without me around, Becky will rediscover what she loves about Mike and we can all live happily ever after.

  I have the most amazing time in Adelaide. I love Australia, the climate, the laid back people, the food, everything. I will definitely be back. The space Becky and Mike had last week seems to have helped their cause a bit. I notice this when I meet up with them for the flight back to Tenerife. This was just what I needed – proper time off without worrying about anyone else. I’m sure that once we get back Becky will be fine. She’ll be too busy even to think of Bob. I had stayed with Emily’s sister in Adelaide for the week I left the other two. It was hard to imagine someone louder and more over the top than Em, but Kate surpassed her by far. We had a great week of going to bars, eating out and, for the last night, a traditional Aussie Barbie. I even managed to get some interest from a cute surfer called Jude.

  ‘Jude the dude,’ I laughed, when he introduced himself.

  ‘Hey! I never thought of that, man,’ he snorts with laughter. Hmm, perhaps he’s been caught in a few too many rip tides. Jude is heading off to backpack around the world in three months and is looking for a bit of bar work over next summer. So, it wasn’t my dazzling good looks he was interested in after all. Not that I’m interested. I’m off men. I give him my email address and hope he doesn’t contact me.

  One Manuel-type per restaurant is quite enough, thank you. Poor Gino, bless him. Still hasn’t quite got used to the combination of Scottish and Irish accents, and no longer has Nick to translate. He spends most of his time looking blankly at us when we ask him to do something.

  We arrive back at Sydney airport, running late due to traffic. I head towards the bar. I have never once flown without
at least two drinks in me. Becky grabs my arm and drags me towards check-in. We make it. In fact, there were actually a spare two minutes. It was a horrible journey, just horrible. The most horrendous turbulence I have ever encountered. I used the panic bag twice

  and asked four times,

  ‘What’s that noise?’ and ‘should that wing be wobbling like that?’ or similar. But I didn’t throw up at all. By the time we land on mainland Spain for our connecting flight, I was a nervous wreck.

  After what feels like forever, we are making our way back to our restaurant. Bliss! Tomorrow we have a day off. Pablo and his wife have been in to clean and have placed the food and drinks orders. Wonderful people they are. I may have to give Pablo a hefty Christmas bonus. We get ready to go out for dinner. Mike heads off for a shower. I wander past Becky and Mike’s bedroom on my way to the kitchen to make myself a coffee. I pause outside, about to knock and ask Becky if she would like one. I can hear her muffled voice through the door, arguing with someone on the phone. I would never normally listen, but when I hear,

  ‘No, Bob, please listen,’ I feel I have no choice. I’m sure she’s not telling me everything. ‘Look Bob, I can’t come home before Christmas, It’s going to be so busy. I owe it to Mike and Lucy to help out. Yes, of course I’m sleeping in the spare room now. I told you I’d ended things with Mike. You just need to wait ‘til January and I’ll be home. I’ve already booked the flight. You know that, you were with me.’

  A few short sentences, but already I’ve heard enough to know exactly what‘s going on. When? She was in Aberdeen with Mike before Australia – she didn’t even go home to Ireland. How could he have been with her when she booked the flight home? I turn to walk away.