by Jemma Forte
I sit watching as Martin busies himself about, making what will be my father’s final resting place as nice as possible. As I do I experience a huge pang of affection for my stepdad. It must be wonderful to be so mild mannered, to never get your knickers in a twist about anything that doesn’t really warrant it. It’s so unbelievably unselfish of him to go along with this too without making any objections.
‘Thank you, Martin,’ I say. ‘I really appreciate you letting this happen. People would have understood if you’d said no.’
‘Your mother would have had a lot to say about it though,’ he says ruefully.
‘Oh,’ I say, worried suddenly. ‘But I hope that’s not the only reason you’re going along with it, to keep Mum happy.’
‘Not at all, I’m doing it because, as Alison pointed out, it’s the right thing to do.’
‘Oh, good.’
‘Your mother’s a wonderful woman,’ he says, stretching out his back for a minute and gazing into the middle distance.
For once, I’m inclined to agree with him.
‘And you’re an amazing stepdad,’ I add slightly self-consciously, determined to let him know how grateful I am to him, for so many things.
‘Well, that job’s made far easier by having two such lovely stepdaughters. You’re both real crackers.’
‘Thanks,’ I say.
‘And the hospice has definitely got it all under control, have they?’ Martin enquires. ‘You know, with the bed and that? Because if not, there’s still time for me to pop down to …’
‘It’s fine,’ I interject. ‘The staff at the hospice have been amazing. The bed’s being delivered first thing tomorrow morning and we’re being offered loads of support. He’ll have a nurse visiting every day and when he’s really bad that will increase to twice or even three times a day. I’ve discussed the LCP with the head of palliative care, a woman called Jane, which was very depressing but necessary and …’
‘LC what?’
‘Oh sorry, that’s the Liverpool Care Pathway,’ I explain. ‘Basically it’s how to help him going forward with his medication and that, and I’ve signed all the forms of consent and stuff so we’re all in order. He’ll have all the drugs he’ll need and he should be as comfortable as is possible. I suppose from their point of view, him coming here frees up a space at the hospice.’
‘I suppose so,’ says Martin nodding seriously. ‘By the way, I’m going to put the telly from our bedroom in here for him. I’m going to mount it on those brackets I picked up from Homebase yesterday.’
‘Thanks,’ I say, once again humbled by everything that’s happening. How could I have been so ready to disown all of them all in the past? My family may be ‘characters’ but they’re good people, something they’re proving right now. I should be proud to be part of such a family frankly.
As Martin continues moving furniture around to make space for the bed, something else occurs to me
‘By the way Martin,’ I begin hesitantly. ‘I hope you don’t think this is none of my business, but I wondered if I could speak to you about Pete?’
‘Pete?’
‘Yeah, it’s just between me and you, I think sometimes he gets a bit jealous of Andy and the fact you’re always hanging out together. You know, because you have so much in common with him …’
Martin stops what he’s doing and places his hands on his hips to listen properly.
‘So, I was wondering whether there was something we could find, some common interest for you and him to do together?’
Martin looks absolutely thunderstruck. ‘You really think he gets jealous of me and Andy?’ he says.
‘A bit, yeah,’ I say. ‘You do spend a lot of time together.’
‘True,’ admits Martin ‘But then you know as well as I do what a laugh he is.’
Hmm …
‘Still,’ he continues thoughtfully, ‘If it’s bothering my son …’ he trails off looking pensive. ‘Actually, as a matter of fact Marianne, I wanted to have a word with you about that. You see your mother and I were thinking that, what with your dad coming here, it might be time for Andy to move on.’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Finally! Hallefrickinglujah!
Martin looks pained. ‘It’s not that we don’t love having him around, but there just isn’t the space and, between you and me, I’m getting a bit fed up with his stuff always being strewn all over my settee.’
I nod vehemently, before eventually finding the wherewithal to say something. ‘Oh I don’t blame you, and seeing him lying on it in the morning in only his underpants is a little off-putting first thing too isn’t it?’
Martin raises his shoulders at first and wrinkles up his face as if he’s not really sure but eventually nods his head in agreement. ‘Yeah I suppose so, and the other thing Marianne, and more importantly, is that your dad is going to want as much privacy, peace and quiet as is possible in the coming weeks, and we can’t help think that he might prefer to keep it to just family members being around.’
‘I agree totally,’ I say, nodding so violently I almost get a head rush.
‘Right, well it’s a tough job but someone’s got to do it, so I’ll have a word with him tonight,’ says Martin thoughtfully. ‘If you’re sure you’re all right with that?’
For a second I find myself battling with re-emerging feelings of irritation.
‘Besides, if Pete’s feeling a bit unloved, well that’s the last thing I want,’ he says, still clutching his tape measure, hands on hips. ‘It’s just it’s hard sometimes, he never seems to want to come to Homebase or anywhere fun when I suggest it. The other day for example, I was going on a little trip to Comet, with Andy, to buy an HDMI cable and when I asked Pete if he wanted to join us he looked at me like I was mad.’
‘It’s hard to believe he could turn down such an offer,’ I reply wryly. ‘But perhaps that kind of thing isn’t his cup of tea? Maybe you could go bowling, or get concert tickets, or go to a football match, or something like that? Something that isn’t retail based.’
‘Right,’ says Martin, frowning hard as his mind whirrs, trying frantically no doubt to comprehend how anyone’s idea of fun could possibly be different to his.
I’ve tried.
Later on that evening, the house is relatively quiet because Hayley has gone round to Jason’s parents’ for dinner – yes it has reached that stage already and yes that does mean she’s having dinner with my boss – and Pete is out at Josh’s. And so it is that, finally, Mum and Martin gather Andy at the table and serve him notice.
I loiter upstairs, torn between not wanting to be involved and being desperate to hear what’s said. In the end I compromise by hanging out on the landing, head wedged between the banisters. From what I can hear, Andy doesn’t sound quite as devastated as I thought he might be by his eviction. I guess he must have got a bit fed up with sleeping on a fake leather sofa every night which, let’s face it, must be quite a sweaty business.
‘It’s no worries at all,’ I can hear him saying. ‘You guys have been so wonderful to me and I only hope that one day I can repay the favour. I’d love you to come to Oz so I can show you how a barbecue’s really done.’
There’s the sound of much back-slapping after this statement then Martin says, ‘Oh mate, that would be something wouldn’t it? And what do you think you’ll do anyway? I mean, we don’t want to see you on the streets or anything so do stay till you’ve got sorted out, won’t you?’
At this point I have to bite my hand to stop myself from screaming ‘Don’t give him an inch. He’ll be here for ever!’
To my surprise though, I hear Andy saying, ‘Well, there’s a girl at work who’s quite keen on me. In fact, we’ve been seeing a bit of each other recently, so I might see whether I can crash at hers for a while. Besides, my visa runs out soon anyway, so it’s nearly time for me to think about booking my ticket back to the homeland.’
I can’t hear what Mum and Martin are saying any more, their voices are too
muffled, I hope not because they’re choking on their own tears. I quickly retreat back to my room. Minutes later however I hear heavy footsteps coming up the stairs and when I look up, a solemn-looking Andy is at my door.
‘Hi,’ he says.
‘Hi,’ I say, lowering my violin.
‘So, I’ve been chatting with Alli and Mar and telling them I think it’s time I moved on.’
‘Right,’ I say, wondering whether I can be bothered to pull him up on the blatant lie he’s just told.
‘And I wanted to say that, although we’ve had our differences, I know how much you care about me, and you mustn’t worry. I’m going to be absolutely fine. In fact, the truth is, I’m in love with someone else.’
‘Good,’ I say, astounded as ever by his audacity. ‘And what’s the lucky girl’s name?’
‘Helen.’
‘Right, well I wish you and Helen all the very best,’ I say as he lumbers off, presumably to phone Helen and hopefully to pack his bag. I am filled with relief that finally I might be seeing the back of the big lummox.
Dad moves in the next day. It hardly takes any time for myself, Hayley and Jason to clear out his flat. It would have been an even quicker process had I taken Matthew up on his offer to help, but I politely declined. Seeing him the other day has really thrown me and although he’s sent quite a few texts since, I just don’t feel like I know what to say back. My only focus right now is Dad.
The hospital bed has arrived, and Mum has put a lovely vase of tulips in his room, bright yellow ones, which look very cheerful. Dad was really touched to see how much effort everyone has gone to. Martin’s even let him have the comfy armchair in his room, though went to great pains to say that obviously Dad was still very welcome to hang out in the main living room and that we could just move it to and fro.
‘This is very decent of you,’ says Dad, looking mildly uncomfortable for a second.
‘Don’t think anything of it Ray,’ replies Martin. ‘Mi Casa es Tu Casa.’
And that’s all that is said on the subject.
That night Mum makes a stir-fry for dinner. Dad hardly touches it, though I don’t know why that should come as a surprise. He’s been telling me for ages now his sense of taste has altered and he hardly touches his food these days. Despite knowing that a loss of appetite is normal for cancer patients it still worries me how skinny he’s getting, and that he’s not putting enough fuel into his body. Though to be honest, with regard to Mum’s rather flaccid stir-fry, Dad’s lack of appetite might almost be a bonus. Still, food aside, it’s a great dinner. To all be sat round the table, with Dad a part of the family, is a brilliant feeling and despite the obvious sadness there’s almost a celebratory feel to the evening, which is only enhanced by Hayley’s announcement that she’s been to see a lawyer and has filed for divorce.
‘Bravo,’ Dad says softly. ‘You’ve done the right thing. I mean, apart from being a nasty piece of work, Gary was a thick idiot wasn’t he?’
Jason looks like he wants to cheer, but Hayley’s jaw almost drops onto her plate and despite the fact she hates Gary herself, I know she hasn’t taken kindly to Dad pointing out that not only was her ex-husband horrible but also stupid. Suddenly though, I realise that Hayley isn’t about to lambast him, but is in fact starting to laugh. Or at least I think she is. It’s hard to tell. Her face has sort of creased up and for a worrying second I doubt myself again and revert back to thinking an explosion of outrage is about to occur. Everyone is staring at her warily, waiting for her to speak.
‘You’re right,’ she manages to say eventually, noodles hanging rather unattractively out of her mouth. ‘He was such a thick idiot.’
I breathe a huge sigh of relief and as I catch Mum’s eye she gives me a little wink.
‘And a vain one too,’ Hayley splutters. ‘Do you know he used to get manicures and pedicures?’
‘No,’ say Dad, Martin and Pete in unison.
‘Yes,’ roars Hayley, who by now is beginning to lose it so badly she’s started thumping the table and has gone quite red in the face. By this point her laughter has become very contagious and pretty soon we’re all chuckling. The mere sight of Hayley, who is usually so composed, so out of control with hysteria is hilarious in itself.
‘And …’ she gasps, mouth open, giving us all an eyeful of her half-masticated food, ‘He …’
‘What?’ we all demand to know, desperate for her to compose herself enough to tell us, and all starting to lose it ourselves. Those of us unlucky enough to have food in our mouths try not to choke.
‘He … oh my god he …’ It’s no good, Hayley’s laughing so hard she simply can’t get the words out and the anticipation of what this dark secret of Gary’s might be is so funny, it’ll probably end up being funnier than anything it actually is.
‘He … he used to pad his swimming trunks when we went on holiday … you know, to make his package look bigger, but one day …’ she splutters, ‘The padding came out and it floated across the surface of the pool, only he didn’t realise ‘cos he was too busy showing off trying to do bloody butterfly across the pool and this little kid went up to him and said, “S’cuse me mate, I think this might be yours”.’
‘What a woofter,’ roars Mum, hysterical tears falling down her cheeks.
By now Martin can’t even speak and is bent over double, clutching his sides. Pete is so close to choking he’s picked up a napkin and is gobbing half-chewed stir-fry into it, or maybe that’s just a clever bit of acting.
‘And what about Gary on Sing for Britain,’ I chime in, and my sides are actually aching from how hard I’m laughing, made even worse as now I recall how odd my ex brother-in-law was on that fateful day. ‘The way he was staring down the lens, looking so dense, and what a weirdo he was with Sy.’
‘I’m her husband,’ imitates Martin, which reduces us all to jibbering wrecks again and has Hayley slipping off her chair and onto the floor leaving her free to thump the carpet with abandon.
A while later, once the hysteria has started to tail off and we’re finally all starting to recover, Dad suddenly says, ‘All that laughing’s worn me out a bit, I might just go and have a little rest, if that’s OK?’
‘Of course it is,’ we all exclaim at once, our moods instantly subdued by concern. I jump to my feet in order to pull his chair out and see him to his room.
‘I’m all right, babe,’ he says, firmly but gently.
Later that night I lie in bed, panicking about the fact that there are only fourteen days to go until my audition for the Royal College of Music. Fourteen days to practise. For many reasons I have never wanted time to stand still so badly and yet in another I can recognise that I am a strung out, tired, drained, emotionally spent mess and that my lifestyle as it is at the moment isn’t sustainable. The stress of worrying about Dad is taking its toll. I’ve become an insomniac, my skin is grey and sallow and my heart feels permanently as if it’s racing with anxiety, and yet I don’t want there to be a resolve. For there can only be one resolve and it won’t be a good one. It’s all so surreal.
Lying there I suddenly yearn to speak to Matthew and find myself remembering what he once said about being a friend, when I needed him to be. I think that time has come and, although I know I have Teresa, Mum and Hayley to talk to, right now he’s the only person who will do. I look at the clock. It’s only eleven o’clock so I figure why the hell not and ring him.
‘Hi, it’s me,’ I say.
‘Hello you, how are you?’
‘I’m OK. Tired.’
‘It’s a tiring business,’ he replies, knowing exactly what I mean.
‘I’m so sorry,’ I say dolefully.
‘What for?’
I sigh. ‘Oh you know … I know you didn’t mean to muck me around and I was pretty harsh on you …’
‘You had every right to be,’ he says.
He sounds sleepy. I wonder whether I woke him up.
‘I’m pleased you’ve called,’ he says. ‘I’ve
been so cross with myself for blowing it. I keep thinking I should have followed my … you know, my heart instead of my head.’
‘No,’ I reply. ‘You did the right thing and it’s all just been so ridiculously complicated …’ I trail off, staring into the darkness of my room. ‘Some days I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I guess with all the things I’m going through with dad it’s been hard to think with any sense of perspective, but I would love it, I mean I would really love it, if we could be friends right now. I could really do with that.’ I blink hard, almost in irritation. How can there even be any tears left in me?
‘I’m here,’ says Matthew immediately. ‘One friend at your service. When can I come round?’
‘Tomorrow?’ I suggest hopefully.
‘Done.’
The next day, I’m just coming in from doing a supermarket shop when I stop outside what has become Dad’s bedroom door because I can hear a strange sound. It sounds like chanting.
Abandoning my plastic bags for a second, I open the door a touch and peek in. Dad’s lying in bed and there’s no sign of any Hare Krishnas, but what I do see is Mum sort of wafting round the room, waving her arms about the place. The curtains are shut and she’s plugged in an air freshener, which has made the room smell of pine. It’s a strange vignette if I’m honest.
‘What are you doing?’ I whisper.
Mum almost jumps out of her skin. ‘Ooh you gave me a shock. Now ssh, ‘cos I’m doing a bit of Reiki lovey, and it’s very healing. Can you feel that energy Ray?’ she says, turning her attentions back to Dad, waving her hands around over his body. ‘It’s exceptionally strong.’
‘Yeah,’ Dad says. ‘Yeah I definitely think I can feel something, Al.’
‘See,’ says Mum, nodding satisfied in my direction. ‘Right, well that’s probably enough of a treatment for now but I’ll give you another one tomorrow lovey, all right?’