Chapter Twenty-Four
Sadie
I pull into my grandparent’s driveway at ten pm on Christmas Eve after a drive that took seven hours when it should’ve taken four. Nobody in their right mind would drive up the M1 on the day before Christmas. But nobody in their right mind would spend more time than they absolutely have to with my mother either.
“Darling, you must’ve had a hellish trip,” says Nana as I tumble out of the car. She folds me up in a hug that smells like cinnamon and baby powder, kissing my cheek and holding me tight, her little black and tan dachshund, Mitzi jumping around our feet, yapping for attention. Mum stands in the doorway, holding her glass of red wine tight. The slight tilt suggests this isn’t her first. Or even her second.
“It was awful. I’m sorry I missed dinner.”
Pop kisses me on the top of my head and drags my overnight bag from the back seat.
“If you’d left first thing this morning like I told you to, you wouldn’t have got caught in the traffic,” Mum slurs slightly.
“Leave the girl alone, Rebecca,” Pop says as he passes her in the doorway.
Nan has put aside a plate of salad and some sausages Pop burnt on the barbeque for me, and I wolf it down with a glass of icy beer.
“Where’s Liam?” I ask. As if I didn’t know. My brother has taken himself off to the local pub. He’ll likely roll in just in time for breakfast, then sleep most of the day, meaning we don’t get to open presents or eat lunch until late afternoon.
Pop shakes his head in disgust, and Nan rolls her eyes.
“You can’t expect him to hang around here all night waiting for you to show up,” Mum says as though Liam going to the pub was somehow connected to me being late. She tops off her glass and settles onto the outdoor sofa on the verandah, legs crossed, one foot flicking back and forth, whether in agitation or boredom, I don’t know.
It’s a mercy she falls into a wine-induced sleep in no time, leaving Nan, Pop and me to catch up.
I hear Liam bumble in around four am, so I’m not expecting we’ll see him till mid-afternoon, and Mum polished off two bottles of red by herself, so I don’t think we’ll be seeing her much earlier. Which suits me fine because it means I can enjoy a breakfast of pancakes, berries and bacon with Nan and Pop in peace before, going down for a walk on the beach with Mitzi.
The sun is bright, the surf is rolling in against the sand and the seagulls are calling. It’s a wonderful way to spend the morning.
Our lovely day takes a turn for the worse when Mum finally drags herself out of bed.
Dropping a pod into the coffee maker, she turns to my grandmother, who is prepping prawns for our late lunch.
“Did you know Sadie is going to Egypt?” Accusation is clear in her tone.
“I did, yes. She told me this morning. It’s all very exciting.” Nan turns to me. “Don’t forget to post lots of pictures on Facebook, darling, so I can see what you’re up to.”
“Be prepared to see pictures of Derek, then.” Mum snorts.
There’s not a lot of love lost between Nan and my father, but she’s also not as vitriolic in her opinions as my mother.
“Mum, I told you I wouldn’t be seeing him.” My good mood starts to fray around the edges. Just once, I wish she’d let it go.
“He wouldn’t win any Father of the Year awards, that’s for sure, but he is still her father, Rebecca,” Pop pipes up from his position at the stove, where he’s just immersed a lobster in a pot of boiling water.
“Oh, that’d be right. You men always stick together. That man ruined my life, and my only daughter would rather spend time with him than be loyal to the one parent who stayed behind and took care of her.”
“Don’t be blaming your father. He did nothing wrong,” Nan says to Mum.
“Oh, so what you’re saying is that I did something wrong? It all was my fault?” Mum is starting to screech now.
I can feel myself shrinking. My breathing getting shallow. I try not to move a muscle.
“It takes two to ruin a marriage, Rebecca.” Oh, I do wish Pop would let this go, but he hates it when Mum blames everyone else for her problems.
Nan puts her hand on his arm. “It’s Christmas, love,” she whispers.
But Mum hears.
“And what difference does that make? Let’s not ruin Christmas, for God’s sake. Never mind that my life was ruined. You’ve always blamed me for everything that’s gone wrong in my life.” Mum’s face, which had been a little on the grey side when she got up, is now red and sweaty.
“We all have to take responsibility for our choices. You married a cheater. What did you expect? He’d suddenly become a faithful husband?” Pop asks mildly.
“You never liked Derek,” Mum accuses, which is rich considering how much she hates Dad.
“No, I did not.” Pop pulls the lobster out of the pot and dunks it in a bowl of icy water.
“Maybe if you’d been more welcoming, he wouldn’t have cheated.”
That gets a loud bark of what could be laughter out of Pop.
“And maybe if you had listened to me and stayed well clear of him, none of this would’ve happened. But then we’d not have Sadie, so I can’t regret it. I only regret you can’t be more reasonable now.”
“Me, be reasonable? He’s the one who buggered off. And she”—Mum turns and points a shaking finger at me—“chases after him at every opportunity.”
Words of denial are locked in my throat. Years of learning to stay still and quiet and not draw attention to myself hold them back.
“That’s enough.” Nan doesn’t often put her foot down. She’s always the peacemaker. But she has her limit.
“Enough? Enough? It’s me who’s had enough. Of ungrateful daughters and disloyal parents. I’m leaving.”
Mum storms upstairs, and Nan, Pop and I sit silently as we hear banging and shouting and groaning—from Liam—before Mum thunders back downstairs, suitcase and a bedraggled-looking Liam in tow.
Minutes later, there’s a screech of tyres and they’re gone.
“Oh, dear,” sighs Nan.
“More prawns for us,” says Pop, rubbing his hands together.
I don’t realise I’m crying until Nan wipes my cheeks.
“Oh, darling girl. Don’t cry. None of this is your fault.”
“No, it effing isn’t,” grouses Pop. I don’t think I’ve ever heard him drop the f-bomb, but that was close.
“I’m not going to see my father,” I whisper.
“Even if you were, sweetheart, that would be okay. You’re entitled to want a relationship with him if you choose.” Nan pours a big glass of white wine and pushes it across the counter at me, then pours one for herself.
“Your mother is angry at herself. Not you,” Pop adds. “She was warned about him—not just by us—and she didn’t listen. She had such goals. A career all planned out. She allowed him to derail that. Now she’s bitter and disappointed with her life. She’s jealous of what you’re achieving. And it’s easier to blame others than to admit responsibility.” He sits on the stool next to me and wraps his arm across my shoulders. “None of that is your fault. All we can do in life is make our choices and live with the consequences, and if it turns out badly, well, that’s on us.”
I drop my head on his shoulder, and the three of us sit in silence for a moment. I wish things were different with my mother, and not just because it would make my life easier. Bearing witness to so much regret and bitterness is hard. For all of us.
“Now, how about we get this lobster on the grill and enjoy our Christmas lunch, hey?” Pop stands up and drops a kiss on my head. “Then I want to hear all about how your PhD is going.”
As I gorge on lobster with garlic butter, prawns, salad, and Nan’s signature pavlova with passionfruit, I think about what a cautionary tale my mother is. I have to remember to keep my goals, my career, my needs, front and centre. Because it’s the best way to make sure I don’t end up as bitter and angry as Mum.