by Hannah Tovey
‘I don’t know, but I heard a very hushed argument around seven this morning. She hasn’t apologised for waking me up yet. She knows I need at least nine hours to function sufficiently.’
‘You probably shouldn’t have stayed out till two then.’
‘You stayed out with me!’
‘I am nothing if not my mother’s daughter.’
I sat down on the sofa and cwtched up next to Dad.
‘Tony, we need to fetch the hire car,’ Mam said.
‘Not now, Mags. My tendonitis is playing up, mun.’
‘What does that have to do with it?’
‘Can’t I sit down for one minute?’
‘Funny how it was fine for golf this week.’
‘Where is the car?’ I asked.
‘It’s at the pub,’ Mam said.
Dad gave in, put his coat on and went out the door. I picked Eleanor up, and started singing ‘Last Christmas’ to her, which she seemed to love. I had an image of us dancing to George Michael together in a club. I took her into the kitchen to see Anna.
‘Just think, me and Eleanor hitting the Big Smoke, dancing on the town, getting legless.’
Anna looked like she was about to explode. ‘Don’t you dare think about taking my daughter out.’
I was about to tell her to stop being so sensitive, when I remembered what happened last Christmas. I left the kitchen, closing the door behind me.
‘Tony, what are you doing back so soon?’ Mam said, seeing Dad walk back into the living room.
‘The car’s outside.’
I saw the horror on Mam’s face.
‘You drove home last night?’ I said.
Mam looked at Dad, who was refusing to make eye contact.
He cleared his throat. ‘I … I have no recollection of that.’
‘Wow, talk about setting an example,’ I said.
‘We will never speak of this again,’ he said, sitting down next to Mam.
‘Do you remember doing the Irish jig with Mr Reid on stage?’ I said to him.
Their faces went blank.
We heard a crash from the kitchen.
‘Buggering shit fuck,’ Anna cried.
I rushed in to find a broken jug on the floor and cranberry sauce everywhere.
‘Look, I’ve had three hours’ sleep,’ she said. ‘They got in at two a.m., woke Eleanor, who didn’t go back to sleep till four. Then Mark had to get up because she was screaming again, having been woken by Dad, who walked into her room trying to find the bathroom.’
‘I did tell you to book them into a hotel.’
‘I was trying to be nice! I knew they’d want to wake up on Christmas morning with their grandchild.’
‘Maybe we should go out for a walk?’ I said. ‘Leave you to it.’
‘I asked you to take them out an hour ago,’ Anna said.
‘Do you want me to help you clean up first?’
‘No, just go.’
I rallied Mam and Dad and we got our coats and left.
37
The park was full of exhausted parents, over-excited children and grandparents trying to keep the peace. We walked through the playground and Mam couldn’t take her eyes off a little girl. She had a long French braid and metallic Converse trainers and was being pushed on the swing by her doting grandfather.
‘I had quite the row with Gramps earlier,’ she said. ‘I feel all out of sorts.’
‘Mam, you do know he’s not with us, right?’
‘Well, of course, that’s what was most surprising.’
We carried on walking. I didn’t know whether Mam was having a psychotic episode or was just very hung-over. I told her about the last row I had with him. He’d called me on the way to work one morning, shortly before he died. It wasn’t a big deal that he rang me, because he did every day, and it wasn’t a big deal that we rowed, because we rowed every other week.
‘Can I ring you back?’ I said to him. ‘I’m just getting to work.’
‘Listen, babes. No need to worry, but I’ve fallen down the stairs.’
‘Oh my God, are you OK? Have you called an ambulance?’
‘I don’t need an ambulance. I need your mother, but I can’t get hold of her, mun.’
‘Let me call you an ambulance!’
‘No! I just need some help getting up, that’s all. Ring your mother and have her come over.’
‘Where are you?’
‘I’m at the bottom of the stairs. I’m OK though, don’t fret, bach. Just ring your mother for me, will you?’
I got off the phone and rang Mam. I called the landline several times. I called her mobile too, then Dad’s. Then I called Gramps’ best friend Owen, who also didn’t pick up. I called Gramps back.
‘I can’t get hold of anybody,’ I said, panicking. ‘What if you’ve broken something? I’m calling you an ambulance.’
He started to laugh.
‘Why are you laughing? This isn’t funny.’
‘I was only joking, mun. Sitting on the sofa, I am.’
‘You’re sitting on the fucking sofa?’
‘Don’t use that language with me!’
‘For fuck’s sake.’
‘Don’t fucking swear at me, Ivy Edwards.’
‘Don’t ever do that to me again.’
‘Come on, babes. I thought it would be funny.’
‘How is this funny? You’ve not long come out of hospital! You can barely walk as it is.’
‘OK, OK. Calm down. I’m sorry.’
‘Christ, I almost had a heart attack.’
He started to laugh. I laughed.
‘Why are you so annoying?’ I asked.
‘Everyone you love the most annoys you – me … your mother.’
‘I’m going to go now, I’m late for work because of you.’
‘You’re always late for work, you lazy git.’
‘Gramps!’
‘How about you ring me tonight?’ he said. ‘We can watch Sleepless in Seattle together? Maybe after tea? Joio?’
‘Yes, joio.’
‘You know I love you, babes.’
‘I love you too.’
Mam laughed when I told her.
‘Sometimes I miss him so much I don’t know what to do with myself,’ I said.
‘It won’t be as hard as last year, and next year won’t be as hard as this year. And you know, he’s here, he’s always here.’
Dad put his arms around her, and we carried on walking through the park.
‘I’m sorry I was so reluctant to come to London,’ she said.
‘You don’t have to apologise, I get it.’
‘I knew you would.’
Back at Anna’s, the lights were off, and their bedroom door was closed. We creeped into the living room, closed the door behind us, and turned the television on low. After a few minutes, Mam paused the show.
‘What’s that noise?’ she asked.
‘What noise?’ I said.
It took a couple of minutes, but then I heard it – it was Anna and Mark, and they were having sex.
We thrust into action as we tried to find the baby monitor. We tossed everything onto the floor, we looked behind the sofa, outside in the garden, in Eleanor’s play box. Dad was stretched out on the carpet trying to look further under the sofa as Mam paced the room. Throughout all the commotion, all we could hear in the background was the unmistakeable sound of two people having sex.
Dad finally found the monitor in the corner of the room, under a pile of nappies.
‘Help me switch the damn thing off!’ he said.
I ran over and turned it off. Nobody spoke as I put it back on the bookshelf.
‘For the love of God can someone get me a wine,’ Mam said.
I rushed to the kitchen and came back with a bottle.
We sat in silence as we drank. After a few minutes, Anna came in.
‘Oh, you’re here,’ she said, opening the door to the living room.
She pointed to the bottle of
wine on the floor. ‘I was saving that for a special occasion.’
I struggled to think of something to say.
‘You could’ve at least waited for me,’ she said.
Nobody said anything.
‘Why are you all being so quiet?’
‘We’re not,’ I said.
‘You’re being weird. What’s happened?’
‘Nothing.’
She sat down on the armchair. ‘Can someone press play on the TV, please?’ she said.
The TV played and, after a few minutes, Anna looked over to the bookshelf, where the baby monitor was flashing. I saw her face register what had just happened. She went pale as she got out of her seat.
‘Food, anyone?’ she asked.
‘I’ll come help,’ I said.
I followed her into the kitchen. She stood by the sink with her head low.
‘You heard us, didn’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘You, Mam and Dad?’
‘Yes.’
‘How much?’
‘Enough.’
She didn’t say anything.
‘Guess you guys have made up then?’ I said.
She got a spoon and lobbed it at my head.
As is custom in our family, Anna and I spent Christmas Day in matching onesies, Mark kept himself busy in the kitchen, and Mam and Dad rowed. This year, it was because Mam had bought Eleanor seven potential outfits to wear for the day, one of which was £49.99. Sometimes I think she leaves the tags on just to annoy him.
She’d also spent a small fortune on personalised ‘Eleanor’s first Christmas’ gifts; a bath towel, pyjamas, reindeer onesie and matching crockery set. When Dad pointed out that buying single-use products wasn’t in line with Mam’s eco-living ethos, she told him he was ruining Christmas. After a stroll in the park and a pint in the pub, things calmed down, and they spent the rest of the day cwtching on the sofa.
Eleanor was trying to crawl; she would move an inch and we’d clap and cheer like it was the most entertaining thing we’d ever seen. Anna and Mark bought everyone Eleanor-themed presents – there were photo frames, calendars, mugs, and – the pièce de résistance – a key ring. She was on solid foods now and there was mush everywhere. The banana was the most offensive; it got into every crevice. I took a photo and sent it to Scott, asking him if the mess made him anxious. He seemed genuinely excited that his mother had got him a whole new set of cleaning products, and said he’d be right over with the Marigolds. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was Christmas Day, I think he would have.
He came over on Boxing Day to exchange presents. I bought him a book on minimalism, which promised him a stress-free decluttering journey, as well as a table book of rare photos of artists and authors of post-war America. He bought me a print by a Californian artist I’d never heard of. He told me he’d chosen it because her work explores loss and grief, and the importance of strong sisterly bonds. I cried when he gave it to me, I felt like he was seeing into my soul. But then again, I was hung-over and emotional.
That afternoon, as we walked through Hampstead Heath together, Dad and Scott got talking about Scott’s parents, and how Scott feels the burden of their break-up. Sick of hearing Mam rant about the bus timetable, I edged towards Scott and took hold of his hand. I gave him a smile to say, I’m here, and I’m going to share the burden.
As contented as I was in that moment, walking through the park alongside my favourite people in the world, I couldn’t help but think of Jamie. The last time Jamie and Dad had spoken, they’d had a heated discussion about the elitist nature of private schools. Dad argued that people from private schools had a disproportionate influence on society, and that an Etonian PM could never appreciate the challenges of the average working-class British family. Jamie said he couldn’t help the situation he was born into, and that he shouldn’t be made to feel guilty about his parent’s wealth. This went on for some time until Dad eventually gave up and changed the subject. Dad was much more at ease with Scott, and I could tell Scott loved having someone Dad’s age to talk to.
I don’t know what it was about the day, but I thought about Jamie a lot. I thought about him sharing Christmas with Amit’s mother, knowing he’d hate to spend another holiday at his parents’ home in Hambleton. I thought about him exchanging presents with Amit, probably in matching knitwear, as he and Amit’s mother shared a bottle of expensive wine from an exclusive vineyard. He almost broke me, and the thought of him sitting contentedly with another woman didn’t quite sit right, but I did want him to be happy – because I was happy. Or maybe I just told myself that to make me feel better?Later that night, we met Noah and Mia in Kentish Town. Mia walked in, her mink coat undone revealing an all-in-one glitter jumpsuit and gold sequin boots. She waved her arms in the air and screamed, ‘I’M ENGAGED!’
Everyone in the pub turned to look at her as she ran towards me, almost knocking me over. She threw her coat onto the floor and held her hand out.
‘Isn’t it humongous!’ she said.
Mam grabbed her hand as Scott and Dad congratulated Noah.
‘Mia, this is stunning,’ Mam said, putting Mia’s hand right up to her face. ‘Noah’s got such good taste, such class. It’s all down to parenting – I would know.’
Mia nodded enthusiastically but I could tell she wasn’t listening; she was too busy gaping at her rock.
‘Let me get a round of drinks in,’ Dad said. ‘Prosecco?’
‘Tony, don’t be so ridiculous,’ Mam said. ‘We’re having champagne.’
‘Isn’t it the same thing?’
Mam looked at him, appalled and went back to Mia.
‘Have you started planning the wedding?’ she asked. ‘Where will it be? Do you think Dorset or Hampshire?’
‘So much to think about, Mags. I’ve already started on my binder.’
‘Binder?’ said Noah.
‘I’ve spent a few hours on Pinterest, and I think I’ve got a theme,’ she said to Mam.
‘We’ve got a theme?’ Noah said.
‘Darling, don’t worry. It’s not like a “theme” theme, just a little theme.’
Dad came back with the champagne, muttering about the ridiculous price, and we toasted the happy couple.
Later that evening, Mia announced she was taking me outside for a cigarette. Mam gave me a disapproving look.
‘Sorry,’ I said. ‘I don’t do it half as much as I used to.’
‘Yeah, only on special occasions,’ Mia said.
Once outside, I told her how proud I was of her.
‘Look at the year you’ve had,’ I said. ‘A leading role in the Royal Court and now this.’
She held up her hand to inspect the ring again.
‘It really is exceptional, isn’t it?’ she said.
‘It really is.’
I put my arm around her and we smoked in silence.
‘Does it make you think about Jamie?’ she asked. ‘Is that weird? Sorry, it is weird, isn’t it?’
‘It’s not weird … but yes.’
‘You were thinking about him just then, weren’t you? I’ve seen that face a thousand times.’
‘I’m over the moon for you, you know that, don’t you? This is your year, Mia.’
‘I have aced this year.’
I laughed.
‘But look at you,’ she said, ‘first term of school under your belt, and now Scott. We’re killing it.’
We hugged again before she grabbed my face and kissed me forcefully on the lips.
‘You know you’re my maid of honour, right?’
I started to well up.
‘Oh, for fuck’s sake, don’t, you’re going to set me off again,’ she said.
‘It would be my honour and privilege,’ I said. ‘You are my queen and I will do everything in my power to serve and protect you.’
‘I am basically the queen.’
‘You fucking act like one.’
‘Shall we get another bottle of champers?’
> ‘Yeah, but you’re paying for it this time. Dad’s about to have a nervous breakdown.’
‘I love you, you beautiful, Welsh goddess.’
‘No, you’re the goddess.’
‘You’re right, I am the goddess.’
38
Just like that, it was New Year’s Eve, and, using this as an excuse to celebrate her engagement, Mia was throwing the party of the decade. Her vision: ‘decadence on crack’. Hoping to channel Kate Moss circa 1993, she had borrowed a barely there vintage satin slip from her model friend and had embarked on a three-day juice detox to fit into it. As a result of her lack of energy and flailing blood-sugar levels, she’d been an absolute tyrant to be around and my patience with her was wearing thin.
I was sifting through her jewellery trying to find the right piece to match my outfit. I had bought a black velvet jumpsuit for the occasion, which I was going to wear with a black bralette. As Mam pointed out, a good bralette can hide a multitude of sins, and she’d bought me no less than four for Christmas.
Mia came up behind me and started putting all the pieces back in their boxes.
‘What are you doing?’ I said. ‘You said it was OK for me to borrow something.’
‘Let me choose for you; you’ll take ages and it’ll be all wrong for you anyway.’
‘Mia, you need to eat something.’
‘I had a rice cake with a quarter of an avocado.’
‘Is that it?’
‘Why are you being so unsupportive? Tonight must be perfect.’
‘You know tonight’s not your wedding, right?’
She gave me the finger.
‘Does a Bloody Mary count?’
‘Mia! Eat a proper meal – this is a marathon, not a sprint.’
‘You’re so full of wisdom. I’ll go make some toast.’
She was leaving the room when I took my outfit out from my bag. She stopped and looked at it, making all the right noises.
‘Go eat,’ I told her.
She came back in with a marmite sandwich.
‘What time is Scott getting here?’ she asked.
‘Not till later. His boss wants to take him out for drinks after work.’
‘Must be nice to get some space from each other.’
‘Not really.’
‘Look at you, I can’t mention his name without you acting like a loved-up teenager.’