Chapter Thirty-Two
The day had started like any other in the Armstrong household.
One of bad temper on Peter’s part. Joy keeping a low profile.
James struggling to keep the lid on his testosterone surges and resist squaring up to his father.
Me twittering nervously, trying to pretend it was perfectly normal to monitor a husband with a volcanic temper, and a teenage son itching to bop his father on the nose.
The twins had come home for the weekend to celebrate their aunt’s birthday. Their uncle had booked the local golf club for the celebration, which included a bit of a party and a DJ.
Sally had been delighted that Joy and James were available to hobnob with cousins, and not be bored by the likes of Alec doing his dad disco moves – as one of the kids had teased.
The twins had instigated an invitation to stay at Sally’s for an impromptu sleepover. Joy and James had told Peter and me that they’d see themselves back to university on the Sunday.
I’d not been so happy about that, preferring to have my chicks around me for as long as possible.
They lightened my life – even if being at home in a strained atmosphere didn’t do the same for them.
I was also a bit concerned about the twins heading back to halls independently when likely hungover.
Joy had told me to stop being such a Mother Hen.
I can still remember her disdain as she’d addressed me.
‘Chill, Mum. We’re not little kids anymore. And yes, we might ship a few drinks, but that’s allowed. We’re well over eighteen.’
I’d given my daughter a sheepish look. She knew me inside out.
The party had gone with a swing, although Peter had been bored rigid. He’d soon started yawning ostentatiously. No dad disco moves from him. He’d rather have died than make an endearing fool of himself.
Eventually, he’d taken me firmly by the elbow and steered me over to Sally and Alec. My sister and brother-in-law had been about to take to the floor for a smoochy number. Peter had tapped Sally on the shoulder.
‘Jen isn’t feeling well,’ he’d announced. ‘So, we’re heading home.’
Sally had instantly been concerned.
‘Not feeling well?’ she’d squawked. ‘Whatever’s wrong?’
I’d blushed with both embarrassment and annoyance. It was so typical of Peter to blame me for being the party pooper.
‘Just a bit of a headache,’ I’d lied. And then, defiantly, ‘I’m sure it’s nothing a couple of paracetamols won’t fix. In fact, I think there’s some in my handbag.’
‘You took them earlier, darling.’ Peter had painfully squeezed my forearm. ‘Remember?’
‘I might have something stronger,’ Sally had said.
My sister had made to go look but Peter had immediately stopped her. His body language had said it all. Stop right there. My sister had instantly complied.
‘It’s no trouble,’ she’d reasoned.
‘I know it isn’t.’ Peter had flashed Sally his most charming smile.
‘But I know my wife. She needs to lay down in a quiet dark room.’ He’d turned to me, adopting a playful tone.
‘It will be the attic room for you tonight, my darling. Nothing must disturb your pretty head until you’re tickety-boo again. ’
‘Well, if you’re sure,’ Sally had said doubtfully. ‘I didn’t know you suffered migraines, Jen. Have you been to the doctor?’
I’d opened my mouth to speak but Peter had answered on my behalf.
‘She has.’ He’d rolled his eyes. ‘Wretched menopause.’
I’d looked at my husband incredulously. If I’d called him out for telling a pack of lies, I’d have only paid for it later.
For the sake of peace, it had been better to simply resign myself to doing his bidding and avoid a row.
Peter had been extra pernickety of late, finding fault with everything, and especially me.
Alec had stepped forward to kiss me goodbye.
‘Never mind, Jen,’ he’d smiled sympathetically. ‘Go home to your attic room.’
‘We’ll talk soon,’ Sally had said, giving me a hug. ‘I know a good doctor who’ll sort you out.’
‘Thanks,’ I’d said, a grateful smile in place. Inwardly I’d been seething.
‘I’ll give you a tinkle in the morning,’ Sally had promised. ‘And I’ll make sure the twins speak to you before they set off to uni.’
I’d glanced around the half-lit venue with its rainbow of flashing lights, seeking out James and Joy.
‘I must say goodbye to them,’ I’d said, somewhat desperately.
But there had been no sign of them. My thoughts had immediately strayed to the pair of them disappearing outside for an illicit ciggie. Or worse.
‘They’re not five, Jen,’ Peter had said, his jaw set. ‘Now come along, before your headache gets worse and you start feeling nauseous. Thanks for everything, guys.’ Peter had flashed his charming smile again. ‘Lovely party.’
And then, at speed, I was guided across the room, through the swing doors, into the foyer, and out to the carpark.
‘Thank fuck for that,’ Peter had sighed, as we’d buckled up.
I’d not bothered to reply. Instead, I’d gazed through the passenger window looking at a small group of teenagers huddled together.
They’d been at one end of the carpark. I’d then caught a glimpse of the twins and their cousins.
They’d been hanging out with kids I’d not recognised.
Everyone had been drinking and laughing.
The air within the car had been poisonous, so I’d reached for the window button and buzzed it down a few inches. The cool night air had instantly filtered into the cabin – along with the smell of cannabis.