by Jemma Forte
‘You should wear trainers though Mum. Wear those wedges and you’ll turn your ankle,’ says Hayley.
‘Oh whatever,’ says Mum rolling her eyes, standing with her hands on her hips, having given up on Dad. ‘Anyways, I’m gonna take a cup of tea up with me while I do it, so I don’t get dehydrated. So, if you want a cuppa, speak now or for ever hold your peace.’
‘Great, thanks,’ Ray answers off-handedly and Mum leaves the room looking disappointed not to have had more attention.
As soon as she’s gone I start again, determined to talk away the strange atmosphere. ‘Anyway, don’t worry if you don’t want to come because I’ve played loads for you recently, but if you do, like I said before, Thursday might be a good day.’
‘I’ll be there,’ says Dad. ‘And what about you Hayley? What are you going to do with yourself now all that Sing for Britain business is over?’
‘Dunno,’ she replies sulkily, shrugging her shoulders and gazing at her fingernails.
‘And you, Marianne?’
‘What?’ I say.
‘What are you doing with yourself?’
‘What do you mean what am I doing?’ I say, sounding immediately defensive even to my own ear. ‘I’m working and I’m saving and I’m hanging out with you aren’t I? How many times are you going to ask me?’
Ray shakes his head and looks so sad and so serious, I start dreading what he might be about to say. I’ve never seen him like this before.
‘Shall I put the telly on?’ I say, hell-bent on lightening his mood. ‘Let’s find some mindless rubbish to goggle at.’
‘Did you see Britain’s Next Top Model the other day?’ says Hayley, staring at her feet, which have clearly been pedicured recently. Usually stunningly gorgeous people are at least dealt ugly feet as a reminder that they’re still human, but not our Hayley. Even her feet are pretty with perfectly even toes.
‘If I was younger I’d try and get on that show I reckon,’ she says flicking her blonde mane over her shoulder.
‘Christ,’ I say. ‘Can’t we at least get over your last attempt to get on telly first please?’
‘There’s no need to be a total bitch,’ spits Hayley.
‘Stop it,’ Dad interrupts and his voice is ragged.
I stop in my tracks, halfway towards the TV, remote in hand. ‘What?’
‘Don’t talk that way with each other. I can’t stand it. It’s so disrespectful,’ he says, and a flash of something crosses his face. ‘Look, I’ve come round today because I’ve realised that I need to tell you girls a few things.’
‘Well, go on then,’ says Hayley calmly. ‘Spit it out. There’s obviously been something you want to get off your chest ever since you got here so get on with it will ya?’
‘It’s just,’ Ray wavers for a second but then seems to make up his mind once and for all and ploughs on. ‘I notice things that are so bleedin’ obvious, only not to you and I think maybe they have to be said.’
My heart lurches with unhappiness. He looks in such turmoil.
‘Dad, are you OK?’ I ask tearfully. ‘Do you feel ill?’
‘Yes Marianne. Of course I feel ill. I’ve got cancer. So I feel very ill and very sick but then that was always going to be the way.’
I’m taken aback by his frankness. He’s never spoken so harshly to me before either. I’m terrified I might be about to cry. I clear my throat and dig my nails into my palms.
‘Here’s the tea then,’ says Mum, barrelling in with a tray of tea and biscuits. ‘It needs another minute or two to mash nicely but … oh, everything all right in here?’ she trails off, having taken in our stricken faces and the strange atmosphere.
‘Sit down Alison,’ orders Dad.
‘I can’t. I’m busy,’ says Mum. ‘I’ve got to do this workout before Martin gets back from the pub so I can reheat his tea.’
‘Please?’
‘Oh all right then I will,’ she says, giving us a ‘look’ and kicking off her wedges as she sinks into the settee. ‘But there’s no need to look so serious Raymondo. No one’s died.’
Hayley tuts. I despair.
‘What?’ says Mum obtusely. ‘Are you gonna pour Hayls? Or shall I be mum?’ she cackles at this but then finally shuts up.
‘What is it, Dad?’ I ask, trying to sound as calm as I am capable. ‘Tell us.’
‘Firstly, I know I’ve probably got no right to sit here and say anything to any of you. I haven’t earned the right. I get that and I also can’t tell you how much I appreciate you all letting me into your lives. But the thing is, as you all know time ain’t on my side so I can’t take ages building bridges.’
‘Just say what you’ve got to say, Ray,’ orders Mum.
‘Right,’ he says. ‘OK, well the thing is that I look at you all and I worry. And if things were different I’m sure I’d keep shtum but … I need to know that you’re all gonna be OK.’
‘Course we are Dad,’ I insist, nodding my head manically. ‘Aren’t we Hayls?’ I say, wanting back-up.
‘Yeah,’ she nods emphatically.
‘Well, I’m not so sure about that,’ Dad says. ‘You see, I look at you Marianne and I wonder what it is that’s stopping you from trying anything. You don’t have any direction, any confidence. No self-belief and I don’t know why, ‘cos you’re a diamond. A top, top girl, but the only person that don’t seem able to see that, is you. Then Hayley, I look at you and I can tell you’re not happy. You can’t be. Not judging by the way you go around treating people. You’re ‘orrible to your sister. You don’t show her no respect and it don’t show you in a very good light. I think you take your unhappiness out on other people but it don’t do you any good whatsoever. I know you want to be a mum and you’ll be a great one, but before a kid comes along you need to do a bit of work on yourself. You can’t expect a baby to be the answer to everything.’
Shocked, I look at Hayley, wondering how she’s going to react to this. I don’t know how Dad dares say this. She’ll kill him. However, Hayley looks more stunned than anything else. Her mouth forming a perfect O.
‘And Alison,’ Dad continues, clearly now on a roll, ‘You’re a great mum. I’m not saying you ain’t and I am so grateful to you for taking care of them for all these years when I’ve been out the picture and totally useless. It’s obvious you love the girls.’
‘But?’ she says, one eyebrow arched.
Dad sighs. ‘But you need to wake up and smell the coffee. Hayley ain’t ever gonna be a star. She can’t sing. Seriously,’ he continues, ignoring the fact that Mum’s jaw has just hit the deck. ‘Them judges were right. Her audition was one of the worst sounds I’ve ever heard. In my life.’
Mum looks livid and opens her mouth to protest. ‘I’ll have you know Raymond …’
‘No,’ he says sternly. ‘I don’t wanna hear it. She can’t sing and yet you’re in her ear’ole every day telling her she can because you’re living some kind of dream through her. But it’s wrong Al, completely and utterly wrong and bleedin’ unfair. Isn’t it time Hayley got to tell you what she wants to do with her life? Give her some space to find out what that is because I don’t think she’s ever been asked. Then you’ve got Marianne here who is unbelievably talented, who has a gift as far as I can make out, and yet you’ve failed to even recognise that fact. And if someone doesn’t, soon it will be too late. She’s thirty-one and what’s she doing?’
‘What do you mean she’s got a gift?’ she asks indignantly.
‘There you go,’ blusters Dad and I gesture at him to calm down. I don’t want a repeat of the last time he got himself all wound up. ‘What do you mean what gift?’ he says steadily, having taken a deep breath. ‘She’s musical Alison. Really musical and she should not be fannying around the world doing f’ all when she could be here studying and making something of herself. Otherwise she’ll end up doing naff all with her life like we have. Did you even know that her teacher reckons she should be applying to the Royal College of Music? As a mature stu
dent? Bloody mature student if you ask me but there you go. It could be done and that’s the Royal College of Music Alison. Do you know what a big deal that would be?’
Mum looks utterly flummoxed.
‘I’ll take that as a no then,’ Dad says, running one hand through his hair.
I stare at the floor, battling with all kinds of conflicting emotions. On the one hand I’m not so sure he’s right. How would he know how talented I am or not? On the other I’m so, so touched by his faith in me.
‘Well, that’s charming that is,’ says Hayley. ‘Why don’t you come out and say what you really mean eh Dad? I’m shit and Marianne isn’t.’
Dad looks despairingly towards his ex-wife as if silently beseeching her to help him out. She doesn’t though. Her arms are folded and she looks downright huffy. She also looks ridiculous sitting there in her leotard. She’s got major VPL going on too.
‘Look,’ he tries again. ‘Hayley, the last thing you are is shit. I ain’t saying you’re not a beautiful, lovely girl but as far as I can see you ain’t a very happy one. Like a lot of people who have been treated differently all their lives ‘cos of the way they look, you need to do some major work on your personality. You’re horrible to people at times and don’t seem interested in what anyone else is thinking or feeling. I know that’s partly because you’re hurting about certain things but that still don’t make it all right love. Although it don’t help when you’ve got people putting pressure on you to be something you ain’t. I feel sorry for you. I do. And like I said, you need time to work out who you are. But you’ve got to realise that no one’s gonna do it for you. And as for you, Marianne.’
I jump out of my skin.
‘It’s all very well you floating along and I know you ain’t had much encouragement, but so what? You need to wake up. Your head’s buried in the sand and I don’t get it. When I die I need to know that you’ve all woken up and figured out what is going to make you happy. All three of you. You have to, because without sounding clichéd, this isn’t a dress rehearsal. And I should know.’
As the three of us sit in stunned silence, desperately trying to digest everything Ray’s just said, the door suddenly swings open and Andy puts his fat, nosey face around it.
‘Hey guys, so sorry to interrupt …’ he says, sounding anything but sorry. ‘… I was just wondering if those mini pizzas were for now or later, Alli?’
‘Oh …’ says Mum quietly. ‘Um, they’re for later, but go ahead and have them now if you’re hungry lovey.’
‘Cheers Alli,’ he says, giving us all a thumbs-up before disappearing again.
Once the door’s firmly shut again Dad quietly adds, for good measure, ‘And seeing as I’m speaking frankly, I might as well also ask, what the hell is Chubby bleeding Checker still doing living here?’
CHAPTER TWENTY
Everything Ray said that afternoon stays with me for ages. I simply can’t get his words out of my head. Being honest I suppose I can see why he feels so frustrated with me. I don’t know what holds me back sometimes either, but am starting to wonder whether it’s got anything to do with the fact that Mum and Hayley have never really understood me or acknowledged my passion for music. They haven’t meant to but years of comments have whittled away at my confidence. Whereas Dad on the other hand seems hell-bent on telling me I can do anything I want, achieve anything if I put my mind to it and it’s refreshing. It makes me feel vaguely capable. Makes me feel that perhaps I should at least go and have a look at the College? What harm would it do? Precisely what have I got to lose?
The next day, on Wednesday, out of the blue, Matthew calls. I presume to talk about Ray.
‘I hope you don’t mind me ringing. Your dad gave me your number because I just wanted to check you were OK.’
‘No, I don’t mind,’ I reply honestly. Truthfully I feel a bit relieved as if subconsciously I’ve been waiting for him to ring all along. I also feel jittery and awkward. I obviously fancy him.
‘So you’re OK?’
‘Yeah, thanks.’
‘Good, it’s just I know you’ve got a lot to deal with at the moment.’
‘Mm, are you referring to Dad? Or to the fact Hayley embarrassed our entire family and Mum disgraced herself?’ I continue, trying to sound light and humorous as opposed to neurotic and unhinged. ‘Or, maybe you’re more worried about the fact that come September at least fifteen million people will be witnessing the downfall of my relatives?’
‘All of the above, I guess,’ he says, but I can tell he’s smiling. ‘Anyway, I’m glad to hear you can see the funny side.’
‘How come you’re ringing though?’ I say, suddenly anxious. ‘Is Dad OK?’
‘Um, yeah,’ says Matthew, sounding doubtful. ‘Have you seen him recently?’
‘Yes.’
‘OK, well, like I said, I just wanted to see whether you were OK, but maybe I shouldn’t have?’
‘No it’s fine,’ I reply, blushing madly. I’m still pretty embarrassed about the vulnerable state he saw me in that day. A part of me wonders whether he’s ringing because he likes me, but a bigger part thinks he might feel sorry for me because I acted like such a freak.
‘So … er what are you up to later?’ Matthew says eventually, once it’s become obvious he’s not going to get anything more out of me.
‘Going to see Hayley,’ I reply. ‘I’m going round to make sure she’s OK. After all, she’s the one who’s going to take all the flack for this when the show comes out and she’s had a hard time lately.’
‘Right,’ he says and then pauses as if debating whether to say something else or not.
‘Was there anything else?’ I enquire, hating myself for hoping there is. What’s wrong with me? It’s so inappropriate to start lusting after my dad’s nurse, even if he is fit. It’s hardly the time to be thinking about romance at the moment either, not when I have no idea how long Ray’s got left.
‘Er, no, good luck with your sister,’ he says. ‘And I guess I’ll see you around.’
‘Sure, see you around,’ I say, wondering what on the earth the point of that was.
Driving to Hayley’s I feel irrationally bothered by Matthew’s phone call. It’s just confused me because I had wondered whether he was going to ask me out but ultimately it all felt a bit pointless in the end. It’s a shame. The man is gorgeous and under any normal circumstances I’d be allowing myself to fancy him rotten, even if he is out of my league. However, the circumstances are completely abnormal so it’s ridiculous that I should even remotely care. He’s my dad’s nurse, so even thinking about him is one big enormous waste of time and deeply wrong. Maybe it’s even illegal to like him? I’m not sure. I’ll Google that one later.
Turning into my sister’s cul-de-sac I take a deep breath. Right, I need to go in there feeling Zen-like. She sounded almost suspicious when I rang yesterday to tell her I was coming round but all I want is to try and have a chat, and to regain some of the closeness we shared when she was pregnant. To make my dad happy by improving our disastrous relationship. I’m doing this for him.
I ring on the bell.
Gary opens the door. Bloody hell.
‘To what do I owe this pleasure?’ he says smarmily.
I recoil as his eyes pan up and down my body.
‘Is Hayley in?’
‘No. You seem to be making a habit of this. Turning up when I’m in and she ain’t. Anyone would think you were trying to get me on my own or something.’
‘Hardly,’ I snort. ‘It’s just you’re never at work.’
‘Being your own boss has its benefits,’ he says lightly.
‘So, where is my sister anyway? She said she’d be here. We made an arrangement,’ I say, unable to hide my frustration at Hayley’s rudeness. The last thing I was expecting was to have to deal with my muscle-bound brother-in-law on my own, yet again.
‘We had a row as it goes,’ says Gary.
‘Oh.’
Damn. This is none of my business an
d I know better than to get involved with Hayley’s stuff. Still, it must have been a pretty bad one for her not to have even bothered calling me.
As if on cue my phone beeps, telling me I have a text. I quickly have a look.
NOT AT HOME. LAST MINUTE CASTING CAME UP FOR MODELLING JOB. SORRY.
‘Oh,’ I repeat dumbly, feeling really crestfallen. Why does she always feel the need to lie to me? I’m her sister. She shouldn’t feel it necessary to make stuff up. Why couldn’t she just say they’d had a row.
‘OK,’ I say to Gary. ‘Well, tell her I came to see her. She’s obviously busy so we can do it another time.’
‘No,’ says Gary. ‘She’ll feel bad she missed you and she’ll be back soon I’m sure. She ain’t busy. She’s just sulking somewhere. Why don’t you come in and wait? Truth be known, I could do with a chat.’
My heart plummets. The last thing I feel like is counselling Gary, but what can I say?
And so it is that with a huge sense of déjà vu I find myself bending down to take my shoes off, while my brother-in-law stares down at me.
Minutes later we’re sat next to each other on the white sofa. I’m not sure who feels more awkward. Actually, yes I do. Definitely me.
‘So, what is it Gary?’ I prompt, having realised he’s not going to make life easy by starting off proceedings.
‘Well, it’s Hayley and all this business about wanting a baby.’
‘Y-es,’ I say doubtfully, not sure I’d refer to her maternal yearnings as ‘all this business,’ but there you go.
‘She’s talking about adoption.’
I can’t conceal my surprise.
‘I know. That’s what I thought. I mean, what do we want to go and get some mong kid we know nothing about when we can have our own? Loads of people have … you know … them … miscarriages,’ he says, wrinkling his nose. ‘So I don’t know why she’s panicking so much. It ain’t like I haven’t got lead in my pencil and I certainly do not want some foreign kid, ta very much. Not in my house.’