Chapter 5
FIVE
LIANE
It was hard to sleep with Haven’s words ringing in my ears. Okay, so I shouldn’t have been eavesdropping on a private conversation but, then again, it was a conversation that was occurring in my house. Maybe I had a right to hear it, and I think I did, considering I was the person being discussed.
Haven said that she thinks I don’t like her and, given the vibe I have been getting from her, she might be right about that so far. But then she also said that she didn’t like me, and while that could just be a natural reaction to her sensing my unease towards her, it still felt shocking to hear.
Have I been awful to her in any way? As far as I can tell, I have been nothing but welcoming.
I have opened up my home to her and allowed her to stay here.
Sure, I’ve only done that because she comes with my son, but still, I could have said no and told her to stay with her own family, whoever they are, because she hasn’t opened up about them to us yet.
But no, I have allowed her into my home.
I also allowed her to attend my mother’s funeral, to be alongside Joel on what was a difficult day and, really, just a day for close family and friends.
So how can she say she doesn’t like me? It could just be me being overly emotional after recent stresses and strains, or there could truly be some substance there.
I wish I had been able to hear what Joel had said in response to Haven’s statement, but I couldn’t.
He must have been whispering and I failed to hear anything after that.
Maybe they both just drifted off to sleep.
Perhaps Haven was not thinking clearly, consumed by jetlag and the stress of the funeral and meeting so many strangers.
Who knows?
Not me.
All I know is I slept badly and now I am leaving my bedroom to go and make myself some breakfast. Food should cheer me up. Or at least I think it might until I enter the kitchen.
The first thing I notice is the mess.
This room was tidy before I went to bed, but as I walk in and see the surfaces, I can hardly believe my eyes.
What has happened in here? There are dirty plates on the counters, half-filled cups of orange juice, and crumbs all over a chopping board.
Add to that an empty packet of ham, two pieces of bread going stale on the side and two empty crisp packets and it looks like somebody had quite the feast in here.
At first, I think about my husband. He left for work about half an hour ago and usually makes his breakfast before he goes to his office.
But he doesn’t tend to consume ham, bread and crisps at this time of the day and, even if he did, he wouldn’t leave such a mess in his wake.
He is very good at tidying up after himself, so I doubt this was him.
The next suspect then would be Joel, and my son has been known to go rummaging for food in the early hours of the morning while the rest of the family sleeps.
But that was when he was a ravenous teenager, and even then, like his father, he always made an effort to tidy up after himself.
But if it’s not him then it means it must be her.
Could Haven have made all this mess? It’s possible.
If so, I don’t object to her helping herself to some food if she was hungry, because she is a guest here and I want her to feel comfortable.
But I do object to her leaving my kitchen in such a state, especially after I worked hard to get it clean and tidy again after hosting my mother’s wake yesterday.
Disinfecting surfaces and sweeping the floor had been the last thing I had wanted to do after laying my mother to rest, but I had forced myself to do it, with my husband’s help, because I knew it was important to keep a clean environment.
It’s second nature for me to reach for a dustpan and brush anyway, given my day job, but it’s always been important that I make the effort as much with my home as I do with my clients’.
My fragile mental state won’t be helped by living in a messy home, so I made sure there was no mess.
But despite that, I am now surrounded by one.
I hear footsteps coming down the stairs and realise Joel and Haven are surfacing from their slumber, and suddenly I feel like an intruder in my own home.
I should be totally relaxed here, but I feel awkward as I hear them approaching.
I feel how Haven should have felt when she arrived here, only she didn’t feel awkward at all.
Why am I now the one suffering from that feeling instead of her?
‘Morning, Mum,’ I hear Joel say behind me and I turn around to see my sleepy son entering the kitchen, his bleary eyes still displaying the effects of the jetlag he will be battling after such a long flight from Australia.
‘Good morning,’ I say before I see Haven enter the room behind him. She looks sleepy too, not that fatigue seems to have had too much of a negative effect on her appearance. She still looks good, even with bedhead, jetlag and no make-up.
‘Morning, Liane,’ Haven says cheerfully, the lilt of her voice catching me off guard. Maybe she didn’t make this mess after all. If she did, she would surely be a little sheepish about it. Wouldn’t she?
‘Anyone for a cup of tea?’ Joel asks as he approaches the kettle, and Haven answers in the affirmative before taking a seat at the breakfast bar that is still littered with various food and drink items. But I don’t answer because I’m still trying to figure out who made this mess.
‘Did either of you get up in the night?’ I ask Joel as he fills the kettle with water before putting it on to boil. I’m twirling my hair again because I’m nervous about having a conversation about the mess.
‘I did,’ Haven replies, not even trying to deny it, which again makes me wonder why she would be so bold if she did make this mess. Surely she can see the state this kitchen is in?
‘Oh, okay,’ I say. ‘Did you make yourself a sandwich or something?’
‘Yeah, I made a snack for me and Joel,’ Haven replies nonchalantly. ‘We were both wide awake at 3 a.m. with jetlag, so I came down here and got us something to eat. Is that okay?’
‘I told her it would be fine, Mum,’ Joel replies as the kettle boils.
‘Oh, yes, of course it’s fine,’ I say. ‘It’s just that, well…’
I’m not sure how to say what I want to say without coming across as a boring stickler for tidiness. But I also don’t want what has happened here to go unrecognised because I don’t want it to become the norm. Surely common decency and manners whilst staying in somebody else’s home are a given?
‘Is it about the mess?’ Haven asks then, thankfully raising the subject for me.
‘Yes,’ I say, a little relieved that I am not the only one who has noticed all the evidence of food preparation around here.
‘Sorry about that. I’ll tidy it up now,’ Haven says as she slides off her seat and picks up the empty crisp packets.
‘No, I’ll do it,’ Joel says. ‘I should have done it last night, but I was so sleepy.’
‘Me too. It had been a long day and, with jetlag, I just wasn’t thinking clearly,’ Haven adds, and suddenly I feel bad for being so annoyed about this mess.
An untidy kitchen is hardly the end of the world, especially given what happened yesterday, when we all attended the event that did mark the end of the world for my mother.
So I should just shrug and forget about this rather than make a bigger deal out of it.
‘Don’t worry, I’ll tidy up,’ I say, trying to sound as casual as I can. ‘I was just checking if it was you or my husband who had made some food in the night.’
‘I see,’ Haven replies with a laugh. ‘Well, he’s not guilty this time.’
There’s that chirpy, utterly unawkward demeanour again, and as I watch Haven put some of the rubbish into the bin, I wish I possessed one ounce of the calm confidence she carries.
Is it weird for a fifty-year-old woman with a husband and two healthy kids to envy someone half their age who has little else in life other than a backpack with a few belongings in it?
Maybe, or maybe it’s more common than I think.
I might appear to have more than Haven does on the surface of things, but she clearly has something I don’t.
She has freedom from overthinking every tiny little thing.
As Joel makes the tea, I help Haven tidy up, and by the time we are done, the kitchen is looking back to its best.
‘So, what are your plans today?’ I ask the loved-up pair who can’t seem to keep their hands off one another as they sit on the opposite side of the breakfast bar to me.
‘We might just rest. We’re still both really tired from the flight,’ Joel says, and that’s understandable, so I won’t try and push them to do anything productive.
Like job hunt so they can earn some money to move out, for example.
The truth is, it’s early days, but I love having Joel back home.
As for Haven, hopefully, in time, I’ll be glad she is around too.
I’m just about to suggest breakfast when my phone rings and when I see who is calling me, I feel a sinking feeling in my stomach. But I have to answer it, so I do just that, although not before leaving the breakfast bar and turning away from Joel and Haven.
‘Hello?’ I say before I hear the voice of the solicitor in charge of settling my mother’s final wishes regarding her Last Will and Testament.
Her name is Jane, and my mother told me she would be the one to deal with when she was gone regarding her estate and the distribution of it to her remaining family.
‘Hello, Liane. I hope you’re well and the funeral service was not too difficult for you?’
‘Thank you, it went as well as could be hoped for,’ I say before glancing back at the breakfast bar to see that Joel is totally uninterested in my conversation and is looking at his phone instead. But Haven is watching me, so I step a little further away.
‘I’m just calling to see if you are free to come for a meeting to discuss your mother’s will,’ Jane says. ‘I appreciate if it is too early and you need a little more time, but your mother was very organised, so I am just letting you know that we can progress things whenever you are ready.’
I knew my mother was organised in regard to her finances and what might happen to them when she died because she told me so. The only thing she didn’t plan for was dying before her time, but then nobody plans for that, I suppose.
‘I’m ready,’ I say, figuring it’s a task that needs to be done, so rather sooner than later.
Jane gives me the details of when I am to meet her at her office before I thank her and end the call. When I do, I turn back and see that Joel is still engrossed in his phone. I also see that Haven has been watching me this entire time.
Does she know what that phone call was about? I have no idea. But one thing I do know is that she will not be joining me, Frederik, Scott and Joel when we go to hear how my mother has chosen to distribute the wealth she left behind.
It’s strictly a matter for family and Haven is not that.
Not yet.
Maybe not ever.