Chapter 20
20
When she arrived at the front door, Lesley was chewing a marigold and swishing her tail suspiciously. She hated the damn cat. She had always hated it. It moulted, it permanently had fleas and there was the farting, that a specialised diet and liquid indigestion sachets couldn’t cure. It looked up at George as she rang the bell and burped. Now it reminded her of Belch.
The ‘William Tell Overture’ chimed and it was a minute before her dad answered the door.
‘Hello Georgina, come along in. Your mother’s in the kitchen. I’ve just got to cast a quick eye over the golf. Justin Rose is progressing famously,’ Brian said, disappearing back into the lounge and passing George the lavender room spray.
Right on cue, Lesley lifted her tail and the hallway filled up with putrid smog that threatened to engulf anything in its path. She sprayed the air freshener and made her way into the kitchen.
Heather was stood at the cooker, apron tied around a floral creation from Country Casuals and hair perfectly in place. Somehow though, she looked different. She appeared smaller, thinner, slightly weaker, less of the ogre she had been.
‘Hello, Mum,’ George greeted, bracing herself for the usual lacklustre response .
Heather turned around and faced her daughter. At the sight of her expression, George almost crumbled.
Her mother’s eyes were full of tears and she was wringing her hands together, like she didn’t know what to do with them. This was completely out of character. Her mother was always so composed, so in charge and organised. She didn’t do public displays of anything, apart from flower arranging.
‘George, I’m so sorry,’ she blurted out, bursting into tears.
George couldn’t move. She knew she should. She knew she should put her arms around her mother, now in her hour of need. But the emotion wouldn’t come. She was stuck fast to the spot, like someone had super-glued her boots to the floor.
‘Do you need any help with dinner?’ George asked.
She knew it was the most inappropriate thing to say but she didn’t know what else would cut it. What was appropriate at a time like this? Perhaps, There, there, that’s OK, I forgive you for making my life a misery should have been the words spilling forth, but that was surely hypocritical. She didn’t forgive her, not now when she was sick, not ever.
‘I’ve been too hard on you; I know that now. I should have protected you more. I should have listened to you more. I should have helped you, not abandoned you,’ Heather spoke through her sobs.
She was looking her age now. Was that the cancer? Sucking the cells of youth out of her and replacing them with older, weaker, disease-ridden ones? She didn’t resemble a tyrant now, but that’s what she was and always had been. Nothing she could say now could change that.
‘I’m here because Adam asked me to come,’ George said, picking up a sachet of bread sauce from the table .
‘Did he tell you? About the lump?’ Heather wanted to know as she dabbed at her eyes with a piece of kitchen roll.
‘Yes he did. The operation’s soon, isn’t it?’
‘Tuesday.’
‘I’m sure everything will be fine. I mean, they deal with this sort of thing all the time now, don’t they?’ George said, repeating the mantra she had said to Adam over and over since she discovered the diagnosis.
‘Oh yes, they do. Mavis at the Choral Society had a breast removed last year and she kept her hair and everything,’ Heather remarked.
‘I don’t know what you want me to say,’ George said awkwardly.
‘I don’t want you to say anything George; I want you to sit down. I’ll drag your father away from that television and the three of us are going to enjoy a lovely roast dinner, just like we used to,’ Heather told her.
‘With bread sauce?’ George queried, looking at the packet in her hands.
‘I know it’s your favourite,’ Heather said.
‘Then let’s make it from scratch, not use this packet stuff Dad always burns,’ George suggested stiffly.
‘Oh that would be lovely,’ Heather agreed.
‘That was superb love; I love a bit of turkey. I mean, most people say it should just be for Christmas, but I’m in the all-year-round club,’ Brian spoke after the three of them had eaten dinner.
‘It was chicken, Brian,’ Heather stated, sucking in her irritation as best she could.
‘It wasn’t, was it? Well, I’ve always loved chicken. Used to buy one of those ready-cooked ones for my lunch sometimes. It stunk the office out, though; Miriam didn’t like it,’ Brian remarked .
‘Miriam didn’t like much if I remember rightly. Dogs – cats – pork pies – buskers – lifts – stepping on paving slabs…’ Heather began.
‘She had lots of insecurities,’ Brian admitted.
‘I’ll make a start on the washing up,’ George offered, standing up.
‘No, don’t do that. I’ll do it later,’ Heather said abruptly.
‘Right then – I’d better catch up with the tournament. Let this chicken feast go down before pudding,’ Brian said, getting up from the table and scurrying towards the door to the lounge.
‘Sit down George, please,’ Heather told her.
Now she really wanted to go home. Her mother seemed to be in the mood for some sort of reconciliation and she didn’t want to have to react to that.
‘Mum, I’m going to Spain in a few weeks. Perhaps it might be a good idea if you asked Aunty Linda to come and stay with you for a bit,’ George suggested.
‘I know all about it. Adam told me. You’re catering the wedding of his favourite musician. It’s apparently going to be the event of the decade,’ Heather said.
‘Well, I wouldn’t go quite that far but…’
‘It’s a fantastic opportunity for your business. You should be very proud. I am,’ Heather admitted, her eyes meeting with George’s.
‘You’re proud?’ George said, checking she had heard right.
‘Of course I am George. You’re my daughter.’
‘But I let you down; I disobeyed you and I got pregnant.’
‘I know.’
‘I got drunk and I started fights and I brought the police to your door,’ George continued .
‘I know and Mrs Jessop from number eighteen always finds some way to bring all that back up when we get chatting over her carnations.’
‘You hated me,’ George said.
‘No I didn’t. I hated myself for making you like that.’
‘What?’
‘Because that’s exactly what I was like when I was your age, Georgina. It was history repeating itself and I didn’t want that to happen,’ Heather blurted out.
Her confession made George retake her seat with a bump.
‘We’re not so dissimilar, you and I. Of course, it was Elvis in my day, not Billy Idol, but I was young once and keen to experiment with boys,’ Heather began.
‘Mum, I don’t know why you’re telling me this now,’ George said, toying with her fork.
‘I’m telling you now because I don’t want to see out my days and leave you thinking I don’t care. I do care, but I’m stubborn and proud, just like you. And as the years went by and we drifted further and further apart, it was harder to get any sort of relationship back whilst still saving face. I’m not so concerned with my face these days. Getting diagnosed with cancer makes you put things into perspective,’ Heather continued.
‘I don’t understand,’ George said.
‘I had a boyfriend my parents didn’t like. He was called Teddy. He had a quiff like Bobby Darin and he rode a moped. We used to go to all the dances, stay out past midnight, drink too much and because he was older than me, my parents put their foot down, forbid me from seeing him, just like I did with what’s his name…’
‘Paul,’ George filled in.
‘Yes, Paul. Well, to cut a long story short, I ended up in the family way.’
George’s hand went to her mouth at this revelation. All the grief her mother had given her when she had been in the same situation came back to her now. She’d called her a ‘harlot’ back then, ‘cheap’ and ‘easy’. Her expression had been hard as rocks, her voice venomous, a tirade of poisonous words coming thick and fast.
And then George’s eyes widened further still. What exactly was she telling her?
‘Not me?! You’re not telling me this baby was me! That Dad isn’t—’ George exclaimed her heart palpitating.
‘No. No, it wasn’t you. You know you have your father’s eyes. Those soft, brown, caramel-coloured eyes, with eyelashes to die for. Don’t tell him I said that,’ Heather said, smiling at her.
‘Then if you knew what I was going through, why did you react the way you did? Why have you been pushing me away all this time?’
‘Because I wanted the best for you and I knew you would never do what I did. I aborted my baby; I wasn’t given a choice and I didn’t have the relationship with Teddy that you had with Paul. When I told Teddy about the pregnancy, he shrugged his shoulders. Shrugged his shoulders, George! Well, I fell out of love with him pretty quickly after that, but it wasn’t like that with you, was it? You really loved Paul, didn’t you?’
George nodded her head, memories of him seeping into her mind.
‘But despite what you felt for him, he’d left and I couldn’t let a teenage pregnancy ruin your future like it almost ruined mine. I wanted more for you than that, so much more, and look at you now,’ Heather spoke proudly.
‘You should have tried to understand; when Paul left, I had no one,’ George told her.
‘I did understand. In my own controlling and overbearing way. That’s why I did what I did with the baby,’ Heather said .
‘I don’t want to talk about the baby,’ George said immediately, her hand reaching for the chain around her neck and the ring that hung there.
‘I know I didn’t handle things as well as I should have, but I still think we did the right thing,’ Heather continued.
‘I’ve got to go; I’ve got some prep to do for tomorrow’s events,’ George said hurriedly standing up and pushing back her chair.
‘George, sometimes we have to talk about difficult things, no matter how uncomfortable they are. Like the fact that I might die from this disease,’ Heather said bluntly.
‘Mother, you won’t die. You’re never ill. Our medicine cupboard only ever comprised of Andrews Liver Salts and Vicks VapoRub,’ George reminded her.
‘I want to put things right just in case – with the baby,’ Heather told her seriously.
‘No,’ George said.
‘I think we need to.’
‘I said no. I can’t do this now. I’ve got to go. I’ll phone you, at the hospital. It will all be fine, you’ll see,’ George said, hurriedly picking up her bag and heading for the door.
‘George…’ Heather called after her.
‘Bye, Dad,’ George offered into the lounge as she hurried past.
‘Oh bye love. Woods was just under par on that last hole.’
‘I read about it. It was all over the papers. See you.’