Chapter 19
19
WICKED WITCH OF THE (NORTH) WEST
Niamh
Niamh is sitting on the bathroom floor, her back to the door, and her head in her hands. Unsurprisingly, given the amount of both vodka and sugary drink she necked on the way down, sitting in this position does not stop her head from spinning.
But it’s not just that she is coming to realise just how much her tolerance for alcohol has changed since her young, free and single days – or even since her thirties – she is vibrating with anger.
Somewhere, deep inside, she can hear the quiet whisper of a rational voice telling her ‘it’s only a phone’ and ‘you don’t have to have it attached to you all the time’, but that voice is being drowned out by a louder, definitely rage-fuelled and irrational voice.
Bloody typical of Becca to leave out this important little detail. She knew we’d not come if we knew it! Release our inner goddesses, my arse! I’m going to release my inner wicked witch of the west! Maybe that will stop Laura harping on about it being a privilege to become a crone! If I hear one more story about some far-flung culture and how they deify their grannies, I will explode. All I bloody wanted was a weekend away. To relax. To do what I wanted for once. To be me. I didn’t think we’d be checking into bloody Colditz.
A knock at the door makes her jump – even though it’s relatively gentle. She feels like a coiled spring. She dares not answer because she doesn’t trust herself not to say something they will all come to regret. It’s almost as if she can feel every little knotty muscle in her body contract. There’s this fizzing of nervous, angry energy just waiting to burst forth from her and she’s afraid it will destroy everything in its wake.
Work is breaking her. She doesn’t understand why she struggles with it so much now. She seems to have forgotten how to manage a classroom and engage pupils.
And then there’s home. Her family, who she would die for. Her family, who she loves and is proud of more than anything else in this world. Suddenly they just seem to irritate her with their constant demands for her time, attention and endless, thankless tasks. Gone are the days when they would all sit around the table, chatting animatedly about their days. The days when her children were all young enough to hero worship just a little, but also to blow her away each and every day with their unique views on the world, their funny mannerisms and their innocence.
Everything is changing. Everything she thought was solid under her feet is shifting and she just can’t cope.
‘Niamh.’ Laura’s voice comes through the door. ‘Are you okay? Will you come out and talk to us?’
She doesn’t answer. She just thinks of Jodie – how her life is going to change. How Niamh’s own life is going to change. She knows how this goes. Grandparents everywhere taking on the responsibility of mopping up the childcare tasks that the parents can’t. She can’t see Jodie moving out. Not soon. Which means a baby will be moving in. It will be a huge struggle for Jodie to continue her studies with a newborn. And those things are expensive.
Guilt swamps Niamh as she thinks of the extra laundry she’ll have to do. The middle-of-the-night help she’ll have to provide. How Paul will react to it. How the boys will cope with being told to knock the volume of their chanting down a level or ten so they don’t wake the baby.
As the first tear falls, she thinks again that she just wanted to get away from it all and have a break. She thought it would be a laugh, but it’s clear Becca is playing things straight. Maybe even judging her for drinking. Oh, God, she wonders, did she behave really badly? Has she humiliated Becca in front of Peggy?
A second knock makes her jump again.
‘Niamh, love, let us know you’re okay? I’ll talk to Peggy. Tell her your circumstances. Maybe it will be okay for you to keep your phone?’
Becca sounds like she is trying to mollify an overtired toddler and Niamh is most definitely not in the mood for it.
‘I’m fine,’ she says, through gritted teeth. ‘I’ll be out when I’m ready.’
She knows she sounds vaguely unhinged. She knows she’s behaving badly. Slamming doors, hiding in a bathroom, drinking all the way here, but isn’t she allowed to get overwhelmed sometimes? Does she always have to be happy, positive, laughs-at-everything Niamh? Why can’t she be angry?
One thing she knows for absolute certain is that Becca and Peggy can take their Fire Starter ceremony and stuff it up their arses. She won’t be going. She might even use her phone, which she is absolutely keeping by her side, to call a taxi to take her home. That it will cost a small fortune doesn’t matter. She’s sure Becca and Laura will manage perfectly well without her. If anything, they’ll probably enjoy themselves more.