We exchange a few more pleasantries and then she reaches for her flask. I say goodbye and head back to work, a little warm, fuzzy feeling inside me, and it’s as if the encounter has turned my day around. My meeting goes swimmingly, with everyone in agreement about everything for once, and when I call in at the hospital on my way home, Dad is awake and responsive and has even managed to eat a little soup and toast for dinner. He doesn’t ask many questions – he’s clearly finding it hard to form words, his speech significantly worse than it was before this second much bigger stroke – but he nods and smiles as I chat. I don’t mention Mum at all this time, and neither does he. It must have been such a shock for him to see her last night, and something tells me to wait until he’s feeling stronger before I bring her up again. There is, I hope, plenty of time for that. He definitely seems better today, and the relief is immense.
When I get home, Mum opens the front door with a flourish. She’s wearing oatmeal-coloured knitted lounge pants and a matching sweatshirt, and she looks relaxed and smiley.
‘Darling! How was your day? I’ve been horribly lazy, I’m afraid. Barely moved from the sofa.’
‘That’s OK! You’re on holiday, aren’t you?’ I say, and I follow her into the lounge where she’s obviously been watching something on the Comedy Channel. She presses the mute button and beams at me.
‘True.’
‘Well, my day got much better, thank you,’ I say. ‘Hey, I don’t suppose Robin found my keys when she was cleaning?’
‘Ahh, yes. Kitchen island,’ she says. ‘As in, that’s where they are now. I think she said she found them in the bathroom?’
I frown.
‘The main bathroom? Not my ensuite?’
Mum shrugs.
‘Think so, yes. Shall I open a bottle of wine? I noticed you had one in the fridge.’
‘Erm … yes, sure. That would be nice. Thanks.’
The bathroom? How on earth did they get there? I never use the main bathroom; it’s just for the kids or guests.
Then I sigh.
Maybe I did go up there last night to replace the loo roll or something, after we got in from the hospital? I was so stressed and anxious, and I do tend to go into autopilot …
I follow Mum into the kitchen and pick up the keys, slipping them into my handbag. I’ve got them back, that’s the main thing. Mum’s got the bottle of wine in her hand now, and she’s looking around the kitchen.
‘Corkscrew’s in the drawer next to the cutlery one,’ I say, and she smiles.
‘Thanks, love.’
She finds the corkscrew and sets the bottle down, then starts picking the foil off.
‘I’ll need a glass of this before I meet the kids. I’m a bit nervous … Isn’t that silly?’ she says.
I’m about to reply, to tell her it will be fine, that Jacob’s told me the kids are thrilled at the news of her arrival and are dying to meet her, but she’s still talking.
‘… and by the way, Robin … Do you really need her, love? Especially now I’m here, if I’m staying for a while? I can do the school runs and keep on top of the cleaning for you, if you like. It’s just that, well … I wasn’t too sure about her, if I’m honest.’
‘Oh!’ I’m not sure how to respond. ‘I mean, that’s wonderful, if you still want to stay. I’d be absolutely delighted’—I take a step closer to her, feeling a little glow of happiness—‘but honestly, I couldn’t ask you to take on all that. It’s too much. And Robin’s great. What … what did you mean about not being sure about her?’
She stops picking at the foil on the bottle and frowns slightly.
‘Well … oh, it’s nothing, love. Ignore me. If you’re happy with her …’
She turns her attention back to the wine and I hesitate for a moment.
‘No, go on, what is it?’
She shakes her head.
‘Honestly, it’s nothing. How long until the kids get here? I’m so excited. Do you want to go and change? I’ll get this open and pour us both a glass, and then shall I stick the oven on for that lasagne you’ve got in?’
She’s grinning widely now, and her sudden enthusiasm is infectious.
‘Aww, thanks Mum. That would be great. I’ll just be a minute.’
As I head upstairs though, my thoughts drift back to this morning, and the man Robin was talking to. Although by now I’ve pretty much convinced myself that it was a case of mistaken identity, that it wasn’t Mike at all, that I’m just being paranoid, a tiny seed of doubt remains and it’s just grown a bit bigger.
What if Robin was lying to me about him? I’ve seen her going through my stuff before. I trust her, but am I being an idiot? And what was Mum not telling me just now? Did she notice something today while they were alone here together?
There’s a knot forming in my stomach, and I take a deep breath. Of course Robin is trustworthy. That was just a fellow runner this morning, she told me so. I have to stop being so paranoid, I tell myself firmly as I head back downstairs. If I carry on like this, I’m going to ruin everything. I take another breath and go and join my mother in the kitchen.
Chapter 13
‘Eloise! Finley! Fifteen minutes, OK?’
I wait until I hear two voices shouting back at me from upstairs, then go into the kitchen where my mother is flicking through a magazine. At her insistence, we’re taking the kids out for pizza – a rare treat for a Wednesday evening. She’s been amazing with them since they met on Monday night, interested and interesting, helping Eloise with homework and reading Finley bedtime stories. They’ve been full of questions, of course, in the uninhibited way children are; I cringed inwardly when I heard Finley, just an hour after meeting his grandmother, ask her, ‘Why did you leave Mummy and Grandad when Mummy was a little girl, Grandma? And why did you stay away for so long?’
She didn’t miss a beat though.
‘I was very sad back in those days, Finley. I had some grown-up problems, and I needed to go away and sort them out, because I didn’t think it was fair to make your mummy and grandad sad too. And sometimes, when you go away, it’s quite hard to come back, because you don’t know if people will be happy to see you, or if they’ll just be really cross with you. Do you understand?’
Finley thought for a moment, then nodded solemnly.
‘Like when I broke my friend Luke’s Nerf and I was scared to go back to his house for ages in case he was really cross?’ he asked.
Mum looked bemused.
‘Well, I don’t know what a Nerf is, but yes, it sounds like a very similar situation,’ she said.
‘OK,’ said Finley happily, and Eloise, who’d been listening intently from across the room, looked satisfied too.
‘A Nerf is a stupid gun thing, Grandma,’ she said helpfully.
And that was that. From everything they’ve said to me, the children seem to be smitten.
‘Grandma is dope,’ Finley told me when I went to kiss him goodnight last night.
‘Yeah, she’s pretty sick,’ said Eloise, who was passing Finley’s bedroom door on her way to the bathroom.
As far I know, dope and sick are pretty big compliments, and Mum cried with laughter when I passed them on to her.
‘Oh, the youth of today,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Whatever happened to cool and awesome, proper words?’
I could tell she was chuffed though, and now she turns to me and smiles.
‘I’m really looking forward to this. I haven’t been out for a pizza in ages,’ she says. ‘Oh, and you don’t have to drive, love. I’ve booked a taxi. I didn’t know which firm you normally use so I just googled local cabs.’
‘Oh! That’s kind. I don’t mind driving, but I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine, actually. Thanks, Mum. You look lovely, by the way.’
She does. She’s wearing a floaty floral top with some indigo jeans and a snazzy pair of red suede ankle boots; she looks stylish and youthful. I look down at my own outfit, a pair of denim jeggings which are just a bit too tight, white tra
iners, and a blue and white stripy shirt. I’ve tied my hair back and put some long silver earrings on, but suddenly I feel under-dressed. Mum’s looking me up and down too, and she clears her throat.
‘Thanks. Thought I’d make an effort – first time out for dinner with you and my grandchildren. Are you … are you ready to go?’
‘Well, I was, but …’ I look down at myself again. No, this won’t do.
‘I think I’ll lose the trainers and put some heels on,’ I say. ‘And maybe a blazer. What do you think?’
She nods.
‘You look great as you are, but whatever you think, love.’
I’m already heading for the hallway.
‘No, I’ll change. Two minutes!’
As I force my feet into the uncomfortable stilettos, I suddenly decide I need to start making more of an effort with my appearance. Mum’s so chic, and I’m … well, I’m just not. I saw her looking me up and down just now, and although of course she’s far too nice to say anything, I know I’m not stylish like her; I dress for comfort and practicality, not for fashion. And now my mother’s back, I want her to be proud to be out with me, proud to tell people I’m her daughter.
I used to dress nicely when Jacob was around, didn’t I? I’ve let things slip, I think.
He’s another one who seems smitten with Mum. I smile as I wiggle into my blazer – also a little too tight these days. When he dropped the kids off on Monday night, he popped in briefly to be introduced, and ended up sitting and chatting with her for a good fifteen minutes. Shortly after he left, I got a text:
Wow! So nice to meet your mum after all these years! She’s great. Very happy for you xx
It had been a while since I’d had kisses on the end of a text from my ex-husband, but I wasn’t complaining. I wasn’t reading anything into it – that ship has long since sailed – but it was still nice. Mum’s reappearance, her sudden presence in our lives, just seems to be making everyone happy, and I’m damned if I’m going to do anything to spoil that. Desperate though I am to find out every detail of her life over the past thirty years, I’m trying to take it slowly, sensing a certain reticence on her part when I ask too many questions, and yet I think I know her well enough by now to realise that her reluctance to talk endlessly about the past is partly to protect me.
‘I have had a good life, but that makes me feel so guilty,’ she said at one point. ‘I don’t want you to think that my life was better because you weren’t in it. It wasn’t like that …’
I shushed her, telling her I understood – and I think I do. And even though the feeling that she’s less than impressed with the way I dress is just that, a feeling, it’s something I can do something about. So, I muse, pulling at the sleeves of the blazer, if that means going out for dinner feeling all trussed up and uncomfortable then so be it. I take a deep breath and look in the full-length mirror that hangs on the bedroom wall. I look … well, fine, I think. Better than before, anyway.
I stick my head around Eloise and Finley’s doors as I head back downstairs, checking they’re almost ready. I’m determined to enjoy this evening; it’s going to be such a treat to be out for dinner with my mother and my children, and although I’m still worried about Dad, his condition continues to improve slowly.
Stop worrying, Beth. Stop worrying and enjoy tonight, OK?
‘Taxi should be here in about three minutes. Everyone ready? And you look very nice, love!’
Mum has appeared in the hall where I’m transferring my purse and keys from my big work handbag to the small black patent-leather clutch I use for evenings.
‘Thanks,’ I say, just as there’s the beep of a car horn from outside.
‘Oh! He’s early,’ Mum says. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll nip out and keep him talking while you get those two scamps sorted.’
‘Great, thanks. We’ll just be a minute,’ I say, and she gives me a thumbs-up sign and heads for the front door, just as Finley and Eloise come thundering down the stairs.
‘Erm … shoes, Finley?’ I say, pointing at his feet, on which he’s wearing his favourite dinosaur socks and nothing else.
‘Can’t find them,’ he says.
I roll my eyes.
‘Finley, they’re sitting on the floor next to your wardrobe. Eloise, can you go up with him, quickly, and get them on him please? The taxi’s outside … I’ll go and tell the driver you’re on your way. Make sure the front door is closed behind you when you come out, OK?’
Eloise sighs dramatically and grabs Finley’s hand.
‘Such a noob,’ she says.
Like Mum with the Nerf, I have no idea what a ‘noob’ is, but trusting that my daughter is mature enough not to call her seven-year-old brother something really obscene, I decide to let it go. As they run back upstairs, I grab my bag and head out into the driveway. Mum’s at the gate, standing at the open window of the cab that’s parked there and chatting animatedly to the driver.
She turns as I approach.
‘They’re just coming, sorry. Missing shoes issue. Shall we get in?’
‘Sure,’ she says. I let her climb in first, and as I wait I notice that Brenda and Barbara are standing in Brenda’s driveway next door, chatting to a man. I’m about to call out a hello when I pause.
Oh, bloody hell.
I move a few steps away from the taxi, eyes fixed on the tall figure. He’s wearing a blue hoodie, denim jeans, trainers. It’s the sort of casual gear you see on hundreds of men every day, and he has his back to me, but there’s something about him …
This is getting ridiculous. That’s Mike, isn’t it? What’s going on? Why am I seeing him everywhere?
I’m standing there, staring, when suddenly Brenda notices me. She nudges Barbara and the two of them wave, smiling. The man doesn’t turn round and I hesitate for a moment, then wave back.
‘Just going out for pizza,’ I shout.
‘Lovely! Oh, can you just hang on one second?’ Barbara shouts back, and then she turns to Brenda, says something, and scuttles off down the driveway, turning left at the gate and jogging along the pavement towards me.
‘Hi,’ she gasps.
‘Hi. Erm, Barbara, who’s that guy? The one you’re chatting to? It’s just … well, he looks familiar?’
She turns and looks back to where I’m pointing.
‘Him? He’s just a gardener. Brenda’s thinking of having some raised beds out back,’ she says, then turns back to look at me, pushing a strand of her long red hair off her forehead. ‘Look, Beth, I can’t find my spare glasses anywhere and I’m just wondering if I left them at yours on Friday? Have you seen them?’
I shake my head. I’m still taking in what she’s just said about the man being a gardener.
OK. Stop it now, Beth. Mike is not still hanging around telling people stuff about you. It’s ridiculous to think that. You’re ridiculous …
‘No, sorry,’ I say. ‘Haven’t seen them.’
She sighs, then bends down to peer into the taxi. Her eyes widen and for a moment she just stares into the car’s interior. Then she straightens up and turns to me.
‘Oh gosh, is that your mum? Hello!’
She waggles her fingers, and Mum leans across and waves back.
‘Hello. I’m Alice,’ she says. ‘Pleased to meet you.’
‘Barbara, from next door,’ says Barbara. ‘Nice to meet you too.’
I smile at the pair of them – how lovely it is to see my friends meeting my mum! – then turn to frown at the front door, from which no children have yet emerged.
How long does it take to put on a pair of shoes?
‘Beth, is it OK if I nip in and have a quick look around? For the glasses? Honestly, I haven’t seen them since Friday and I’ve searched my place from top to bottom. I’m just wondering if they slipped down the side of your sofa. Do you mind?’
I turn back to Barbara.
‘No, of course not, go on. And can you shout upstairs and tell my kids we’re leaving in twenty seconds, with or withou
t them?’
‘Of course. Thanks, Beth.’
‘Oh and Barbara – you and Brenda must come round for drinks to meet Mum properly. How does Friday sound?’
She hesitates for a moment, then nods.
‘I think I’m free, yes. I’ll check with Bren but she didn’t mention any plans for the weekend. Thanks, Beth. That would be lovely.’
‘Brilliant. OK, see you then. Hope you find your specs.’
‘Thanks. I’m such a twit sometimes. Right, I’ll send the children out. Have a great night!’ she says, and I thank her and clamber into the taxi.
‘Sorry,’ I say to the driver. ‘The kids are on their way.’
‘No worries, love,’ he says, smiling at me in the rear-view mirror.
‘Your friend seems nice,’ Mum says. ‘When are they coming round? Friday?’
‘Yes. Is that OK? You’re definitely staying then?’ I say.
‘I’d love to. If that’s OK with you, of course?’
‘It’s very OK,’ I reply. ‘You can stay as long as you like. Move in, if you want.’
I say the words lightly, as if in jest, but her eyes widen and she smiles broadly.
‘Do you mean that? I mean, I’ll have to go back to my job eventually, come the autumn. But for the next few months, yes. Yes, I’d love to move in. Are you sure?’
My heart leaps.
‘Absolutely sure. That would be … that would be wonderful, Mum! More than wonderful.’
I grab her hand and squeeze it, and she squeezes back.
‘That’s settled then,’ she said. ‘And right on cue, here are those gorgeous grandchildren of mine. Let’s go and celebrate!’
Eloise and Finley finally wrench the taxi door open, bickering as they climb in next to us, and for a moment I think I’m going to cry with joy as all of my stupid anxieties evaporate.
She’s moving in. She’s moving in, and Dad’s recovering, and everything’s AMAZING. How did I get this lucky?
The evening’s pretty amazing too. The food is delicious, and Mum and the kids are chatting away like old friends. I try not to eat too much; this new sense of wanting to dress more stylishly is also, for some reason, making me think about my weight. I know I’m bigger than I used to be, but until now I’ve been OK with that. As long as I’m healthy, what does the size label in my clothes matter? But now … Mum’s just so slim, so elegant, and I feel big and awkward next to her. At the same time, I’m feeling so happy, and it’s such a treat to be out … and the pizza is so hot and fresh and tasty and, well, I leave a little on my plate – the crust mainly. I blame the wine, which always makes me peckish; knowing we’re calling another cab to take us home, I break my usual weeknight rules and have a little too much of the perfectly chilled Sauvignon Blanc, and by the time we get back to Prestbury I’m definitely a little tipsy. Leaving Mum to watch the ten o’clock news in the living room, I shoo the children off to bed and go into my room to change into my PJs. I’ll make some hot chocolate, I think, to finish the night off. But as I open the drawer to find a fresh pair of pyjamas I pause. Something doesn’t look right. The little arrangement of cosmetics and perfume bottles that sit in regimented rows on top of my chest of drawers is somehow askew.
The Happy Family Page 8