Chapter 25
25
In equal measure, I was looking forward to and dreading Tuesday lunchtime with my parents. I still felt ashamed for storming round there and having a go at them on Friday. Even if Mum hadn’t had a health scare to contend with that week, it had been the wrong approach to take. I wished I’d paused to think that through, but being impulsive in my personal life was one of my faults that hadn’t improved with time, no matter how self-aware I was about it.
I drove into Willowdale first thing for some freshly baked bread from the bakery, picked up the rest of our lunch treats from a deli in Keswick, then returned to the hall for a couple of hours of work.
Georgia messaged me shortly before I left for Derwent Rise to wish me luck. I hoped I wouldn’t need it.
It was a little awkward at first. Dad welcomed me at the door but he looked frazzled. I dropped the bags off in the kitchen before going through to the lounge to say hello to Mum. I looked from Mum to Dad and back again. There was tension in the air, as though I’d arrived in the middle of an argument, and I hoped our time together would ease rather than exacerbate it.
‘How are you feeling?’ I asked Mum. She was sitting in her usual spot on the sofa with her feet raised on the recliner.
‘Tired. I think a combination of a week away and last week’s shenanigans have well and truly taken it out of me.’
‘If you need to rest, we can take a raincheck,’ I said.
‘Have you two been in cahoots?’ She looked from me to Dad, eyebrows raised. Evidently that’s what the argument had been about.
‘No, but you do need to rest,’ Dad said.
‘And I’ve been doing that all morning and will continue to do so all afternoon just like I did all weekend so please let it go and make me the cup of tea you promised me fifteen minutes ago.’
‘I thought I…’ Dad shook his head. ‘No, I put the kettle on but then the post arrived and I forgot. Cup of tea coming right up. Do you want one, Mel?’
‘I’d love a coffee.’
‘He’s driving me mad,’ Mum said as soon as Dad left the room. ‘I know it’s only because he cares but I can’t even scratch my nose without him telling me to relax.’
‘Are you in pain?’
‘I am today. I’m on the strongest painkillers I’m allowed but they don’t always hit the spot. What gets me the most is how erratic it is. Sometimes I can feel fine and, at other times, I can barely move. I thought I’d be in agony when we were away, especially after a long journey in the car, but I had the best week I’ve had in ages. I was okay most of last week too, then I woke up on Saturday feeling like I’d done several rounds in a boxing ring and that hasn’t improved since.’
‘Is there anything they can do for it?’
‘Possibly an injection in my spine, which sounds grim, but there’s no guarantee it’ll work. I’m on the waiting list but I’m undecided about going ahead with it.’
Dad returned to the lounge with drinks and the pair of them told me more about Mum’s back and how significantly it had deteriorated across the past twelve months or so. Dad was officially Mum’s carer and they’d had various alterations made to the house including having their en suite turned into a wet room so there was more space for Dad to assist Mum.
‘When my hair needs washing, it’s like a surreal visit to the hairdresser’s,’ Mum said. ‘Your dad’s there in his swimming trunks and my pink flowery shower cap while I sit in the middle of the room on a plastic chair getting shampooed. You should see him.’ She laughed lightly. ‘Maybe you shouldn’t. There are certain things you can’t un-see.’
The atmosphere had definitely lightened and it was good to see Mum laughing about her predicament.
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ I asked.
Mum shook her head. ‘We’re fine. Your dad’s doing a great job.’
I made a mental note to check with Dad privately that he was managing okay as, if he was finding caring for Mum a challenge, I couldn’t imagine him giving her any indication of that.
‘The mobility scooter on holiday was a game-changer,’ Dad said. ‘Your mum was worried she was going to miss out on valuable time with Astrid and it was the only solution that made sense.’
‘I should have accepted I needed one sooner,’ Mum admitted. ‘After all those years of trekking miles up fells and across the countryside, it’s been difficult to admit that I need help walking. On holiday, it struck me that I either hopped on a scooter or I spent most of the holiday on my own. After I got used to the controls, I found it liberating so we decided to get one. Finding the lump delayed that a bit but we’re going scooter shopping tomorrow.’ She rolled her eyes at Dad and added, ‘If I’m not in too much pain and ordered to relax.’
Dad and I went into the kitchen to prepare lunch and he told me they’d decided to change the car too, trading theirs in for a vehicle with more space for the scooter and in which the seats were higher, making it easier for Mum to get in and out.
After we ate, it was time to address the main reason for me coming – the move to Newcastle and my subsequent absenteeism.
‘I can’t fully explain why I went,’ I told them. ‘I just woke up on my birthday with this overwhelming need to get away and try to start afresh and, once that idea took hold, I couldn’t shake it. As for why I stayed away for so long, I’m still trying to work that one out myself.’
‘We understood you leaving after everything you’ve been through,’ Mum said. ‘We even understood you staying away but it hurt that you rarely came back and a phone call from you was once in a blue moon.’
‘And it’s not as though we didn’t call you,’ Dad added. ‘I dread to think how many conversations we had with your voicemail.’
I let them get it all out in the open – how they stopped leaving messages because they were worried they were exacerbating my problems by staying in touch when I so clearly wanted space. They’d understood me holidaying over Christmas and New Year for the first few years and still understood why I’d want to escape for the anniversary of Noah’s death over New Year, but that they found it hurtful that I still avoided the family every Christmas. Everything they said was fair and I appreciated that they delivered it in a non-accusatory way; simply a sharing of how they’d felt in the past and right now.
‘We’ve missed you, Mel,’ Mum said, ‘and I’m sure you don’t need us to tell you there’s a Noah-shaped hole in our lives. We often speculate on what he might be doing now.’
I nodded. ‘I do too. Sometimes it’s heartwarming, but most of the time it’s heartbreaking.’
We sat in silence for a couple of minutes. I’d already admitted that I was working things through but it felt too vague. If I was going to build bridges and move things forward with my parents, I needed to be as honest with them as they’d been with me.
‘I wasn’t doing so great in Newcastle.’
I told them that I hated my flat, admitted that I hadn’t made any friends in Newcastle and, cringing, shared Graeme’s proposal disaster.
‘The only thing that has kept me going is work so I flung myself into that more than ever before. I think I was scared that, if I stopped working, I’d be forced to reflect on everything that had gone wrong and it might just break me for good.’
‘Are you doing any better now that you’re back in Willowdale?’ Dad asked.
‘I’m taking it a day at a time.’ I told them about visiting The Bothy with Georgia, our conversation with Jessie and my unexpected encounters with Flynn.
‘I will talk to him at some point. I’m just not quite ready yet. I’ve discovered that Mark still sees him regularly, which isn’t really surprising considering how close they were. But it struck me that you were really close to him too. Have you stayed in touch?’
‘He sends us Christmas and birthday cards,’ Mum said. ‘We send them to him too. We see him around from time to time so we always stop and say hello.’
‘He brought a gift round for your mum’s eightieth,’ Dad added. ‘June would have liked to invite him to her party but…’
‘But you didn’t because of me,’ I said when he didn’t finish the sentence. How bad did I feel? While I hadn’t told anyone they couldn’t see Flynn, my insistence that I didn’t want to hear anything about him didn’t convey a message of support for any of my family to keep him as part of their lives.
‘We’ve missed Flynn.’ Mum’s eyes sparkled with tears. ‘It was incredibly hard losing all three of you like that.’
The lump in my throat was back and I nodded. ‘I’m sorry. I needed to get away and I wasn’t thinking about the impact on everyone else. If I could go back, I’d do it all differently.’
‘Does that mean you’d be okay now if we were to see more of Flynn?’ she asked.
‘I never said you couldn’t. I just don’t want to hear about it. Sorry if that sounds harsh.’
‘You must have missed him too,’ Mum said.
I had, but I wasn’t going to admit that. I knew how Mum’s mind worked. She’d have us walking up the aisle again if I did and that was never going to happen. The most Flynn and I could ever hope for was a lack of discomfort if we found ourselves in the same place at the same time. So I ignored the statement and suggested another round of drinks.
I could have shared a lot more – things I hadn’t even told Georgia yet – but it would have been too much for them. I didn’t want them worrying about me. All they needed to know was that things were still tough but that I was coping.
Overall, it felt like a successful visit. I suspected they’d held back on their hurt, but I’d held back on mine too. We agreed we’d all work harder at staying in touch and that a great starting point would be a regular Tuesday lunch – a chance to spend some time with them on my own when we could properly talk.
I said goodbye around mid-afternoon and got into the car. I’d intended to go back to the hall to work but, as I reached the bottom of the drive, it suddenly popped into my head that I should have bought a ream of printer paper when I’d been to town this morning but had been so distracted by the wonderful choices at the deli that I’d completely forgotten. I might as well go back into town and get the paper now.
As I drove into Keswick, I felt a lot lighter. There’d been some uncomfortable moments with Mum and Dad but they’d been necessary to find a way forward, which hopefully we had done. I was fortunate to have such understanding parents.
I picked up a ream of paper and was returning to the car when a jumper in a boutique window caught my eye. It was just a plain crew-neck but the material looked so soft and the colour – duck-egg blue – was gorgeous. I looked down at my chocolate-brown wool jumper under which I was wearing a plain black T-shirt before returning my gaze to the mannequin. In my short time in Willowdale so far, I felt as though some colour was returning to my world. Perhaps it was time for it to return to my wardrobe. I nipped into the boutique and made the purchase. Newcastle hadn’t been my fresh start after all, but it felt like Willowdale was.