Chapter Remy #6
Midge rested his hands on his hips. ‘Me too. I didn’t fancy going, not really. I mean, I want to support Sophie, always, but a fashion show? I didn’t really think it was my thing, but honestly, Ren. It was breathtaking.’
‘It was.’ She bit her lip, wondering how long the warm, fuzzy glow of joy that she felt inside might last.
‘You look nice.’ He studied her and she liked the way his eyes sparkled.
‘I washed my hair and ironed my knickers.’
‘Impressive.’
It wasn’t far from the truth. The days of her going full glam were behind her.
‘So, is Ashleigh picking your mum and dad up on the way? She’ll practically be driving past.’
‘No.’ She faced him, waiting for his commentary. ‘The plan is I’m taking Soph and picking them up in the car, which means you and the little ones are in the van.’
‘That makes no sense! None at all.’ He dumped the china into the sink, if not aggressively then certainly with a clatter. ‘Three cars, instead of . . .’
‘I know! Midge. I know! I tried!’ She sighed, without the energy or inclination to have this conversation again and feeling that warm, fuzzy glow of joy dim a little.
‘Bert, Harper, get your trainers on, loves. We’re heading off in a minute,’ he called to the kids, who sat side by side at the dining table, eyes glued to the wall-mounted TV.
‘Can we watch the end of our programme? It’s nearly finished,’ Bert asked, his tone urgent, as if his life depended on it.
‘Yep.’
Midge sighed and reached for the van keys. ‘There’s always these ridiculous shenanigans. Can’t believe we’re not just all jumping into one car, like a normal family on a day out. I don’t know why you let them tie us up in knots like this.’
‘Midge,’ she implored, wanting him not to dwell on it, ‘we are not a normal family.’
‘That much I do know.’ He smiled. There it was, the slight thawing, the love, the understanding.
‘It’s just how it is! They drive me mad too!’ She wanted him to know she got it, was on his side.
‘I just wish you’d put your foot down, just once.’ He spoke calmly.
‘I know it doesn’t make sense, love. Mum insisted, and you know what she and Dad are like when they get a plan into their heads.’
‘You could always say no.’
She laughed out loud before his expression told her he wasn’t joking.
And had it not sounded like pure sarcasm, she would have told him that, truthfully, she’d not thought of that.
Aware that she never challenged the ridiculous, overcomplicated plans, never; aware that at a subconscious level she was always trying to please her parents, to make amends for letting them down.
Every day, since she was ten years of age, trying to make them forgive her for not taking the exam and changing her life when she’d had the chance.
Even though she had of course taken the bloody exam but had changed Ashleigh’s life instead.
Not that she could tell him this. Not now, with so much time having passed. It was a horrible, spiky betrayal that sat between them that she didn’t know how to fix.
She called up the stairs to their daughter. ‘Ready when you are, Soph! Don’t forget Grandad’s present, your protest placard, that kind of thing!’
‘Very funny.’ Sophie slunk down the stairs, fully dressed and looking gorgeous in mustard knitted tights, a green faux-suede miniskirt and a striped hand-knitted jumper that fell off her shoulder. Her wide, blunt fringe framed her face, and her only make-up was a dark lipstick.
‘I can joke, but honestly, little dove, Dad and I were just saying how incredible you were. We’re so proud. And you look great, by the way!’
‘Thank you. All thrifted.’ She lifted the fluted edge of her skirt and curtseyed.
‘You’re so clever, Soph. You really are.’ She loved these moments when pure pride coursed through her veins at this wondrous woman she had grown. A young woman who ran her own race.
‘Take after my mumma.’
‘Or your Auntie Ashleigh, if you listen to your nan.’ She kissed her eldest child on the cheek.
‘Haven’t seen Evie for ages,’ Sophie pointed out.
‘Me either. I’m excited!’ She hunched her shoulders, knowing that her relationship with her niece was a casualty of Ashleigh living so far away and their less than regular communication.
She thought about the phone call yesterday; it had been nice, her sister reaching out to her in that way.
‘Right, gang, Sophie and I are leaving the building. We’ll see you there. ’
Midge walked over and kissed her on the face. ‘See you in a bit.’ It felt a lot like forgiveness.
‘Yep, see you in a bit, my love.’
Remy pulled the car up in front of her parents’ house and Sophie ran in to knock on the door. They were of course loitering in the hallway, ready to go.
‘Happy birthday, Dad!’ she called as he climbed into the back of her Corsa, Sophie next to him. Her mother, as befitting the matriarch, took the front seat.
‘Thank you, Remy.’ He crinkled his eyes shut in love for her.
‘You don’t want to sit in the front? A birthday treat?’ she teased, nodding at her mother, who was busy adjusting her skirt.
‘No, it’s easier for her to co-pilot from there.
’ He winked at Remy in the rear-view mirror.
‘I see number twenty-two have left their wheelie bin out again!’ He shook his head as they drove past. ‘How hard can it be to pop it inside the gate? It clearly states on the council leaflet that bins are not to be left out on the pavement after collection day. It’s these small details that can wreck a neighbourhood! ’
Remy stared at her daughter in the mirror, and they exchanged a knowing look. Sophie, no doubt, like her, thinking that if the worst thing a neighbourhood had to contend with was a misplaced wheelie bin, then it was hardly wrecked.
‘Will there be something you can eat at the pub, Sophie?’ Her mum spoke through the gap between the seats. ‘I know you don’t eat meat or chicken or anything like that.’
Remy decided not to point out that chicken was meat. Potato potarto . . .
‘There will be, Nan. Last time I went they had a chickpea curry and a couple of starters to choose from. I’ll be fine.’
‘Don’t you ever want to try a nice steak or a bit of crispy bacon?’
‘I don’t, Grandad, no.’
‘Well I never.’ Her dad shook his head as if he just didn’t get it. ‘Do you think they’d be offended if I reminded them at number twenty-two of the rules about bin stowage? Don’t want to fall out with anyone, but it is a bit much.’
And just like that they were back to the bins.
‘Slow down, Remy. We want to arrive in one piece.’ Her mum tutted and gripped her seat belt as if this might, in the event of an accident, make all the difference.
Remy felt it churlish to point out that A) instead of tutting, her mother might acknowledge that she’d come out of her way to collect them and that it had caused ripples of unease between her and Midge, and B) she was doing thirty-three miles per hour on a stretch of road where the speed limit was forty.
It wasn’t lost on her that whether fourteen or forty, she still didn’t feel able to answer back.
‘Although we don’t want Ashleigh to be kept waiting,’ her dad pointed out.
And for a split second, Remy genuinely didn’t know whether to pump the brakes or hit the accelerator.
This was what they did, confused her, turned her into her seven-year-old self without confidence in her own decision-making or her ability to get a task done. It was bloody infuriating!
‘Shame Archie had a work thing.’ Her mum changed the topic. ‘He’s a very busy man, has a very important job.’
‘Apparently so.’
Remy stared straight ahead. It bothered her, how busy they thought Archie was, whereas Midge, who ran himself ragged trying to keep all the plates spinning and everyone happy, doing everything and anything for his family and anyone else who cared to ask, well, to hear her mother talk, you’d think Midge spent his days sitting on his arse.
‘How’s the outside tap working out, Dad?’ She slowed and indicated at the junction.
‘Oh, it’s grand! Everything’s so much easier. I can water all the tubs, clean the car.’
The car you never use . . .
‘Good,’ she breathed. ‘I’ll let Midge know.’ She subtly made the point.
The car park at The Plough was rammed.
‘Goodness only knows where Ashleigh’s going to park. She’s got that big old car!’ Again, her mother came in with that tut.
‘Or Midge in that big old van!’ Remy clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth.
‘You might have to drop us off and go and find somewhere to park, love,’ her dad suggested.
‘Yes. Why don’t I do that?’ She bit her tongue. Literally and figuratively.
With her parents decanted, shepherded by Sophie, she reversed out of the awkward, narrow car park and drove back out to the main road, abandoning her car a little way along, with two wheels up on the grass, where a couple of others had done the same thing.
She took a minute, gathering herself, calming her pulse and reminding herself that it was her dad’s special day, and everyone was very excited.
Emotions were bound to run a little high, and it would be over soon enough.
Midge pulled up behind her and jumped out.
‘I’ve just dropped the kids with your mum and dad. Didn’t want them tackling the verge.’
‘Good idea. Sorry about all this.’
‘It’s fine, love. Sorry I moaned. We’ll have a lovely time. Not often we all go out together, and it is Den’s birthday!’
‘I bloody love you.’ She stared at the man who was good, kind, and had the power to make everything feel just a little bit better. He always had.
You’re in shock. But don’t worry, these guys will get to you in a mo . . .
‘I know.’ He winked at her and gripped her hand. ‘Posh not here yet?’
‘Obviously not, or you’d have heard the fanfare and seen the red carpet.’
‘Good point.’ He squeezed her fingers.
They walked back to the pub hand in hand and found her parents and the children cluttering up the foyer. A woman with a clipboard stood at the entrance door like a gatekeeper.