Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
CONVERSATIONS AT HOME
Fiona
‘I can’t believe you came home early.’
Wendy turns to see her daughter, still in pyjamas, standing in the doorway to the kitchen.
‘Hello, you!’ she says, standing and crossing the room to hug her. Her daughter smells of sleep. She smells the same way she has smelt for eighteen years. It’s wonderful.
‘Stop! Stop it!’ Fiona says, laughingly pushing her mother away. ‘I can’t stand it when you snuffle me like that.’
‘Apologies, I’m sure,’ Wendy replies, smiling wryly as she returns to her seat at the table.
She resumes reading the news while her daughter pours a bowl of cereal.
She knows better than to initiate conversation in those first few minutes.
And yet once Fiona has made tea and sat down she finds herself saying, ‘You know that’s not a proper breakfast, right? ’ Mothering. It’s impossible to resist.
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You do realise that chocolate’s not a reasonable breakfast staple.’
Fiona leans back in her chair, almost falling over in the process, and swipes the cereal box from the counter. ‘Choco Crispies – breakfast cereal,’ she mumbles, running her finger across the words on front of the box.
‘Fine, whatever,’ Wendy says. She’ll have this battle another day.
‘Anyway, I didn’t buy it, Dad did,’ Fiona says. ‘So have it out with him.’
‘I will.’
‘I know you will. And then we can all eat gruel every day and be thrilled that you came home to save us.’
‘Gruel would probably be healthier,’ Wendy says, trying to turn the almost-spat into banter.
‘Anyway, why did you come home early? I mean, look at it,’ Fiona says through a mouthful of Choco Crispies. She nods at the kitchen window, beyond which sheet rain is plummeting from a slate-grey sky onto their extremely muddy lawn.
‘Well, not for the weather, that’s for sure.’
‘But seriously. I thought you were staying there till April.’
‘Maybe I missed you too much,’ Wendy says, then, ‘Actually I did. I missed all of you.’
‘I can almost believe that,’ Fiona says. ‘Almost. Are you and Dad tight now, too, then?’
Wendy frowns at her daughter as she thinks about this.
‘Are you two getting on?’ Fiona rephrases.
‘I do know what tight means,’ Wendy says. ‘I’m not that much of a fuddy-duddy.’
‘Enough of one to say “fuddy-duddy”, though,’ Fiona says, grinning. ‘And please don’t say it’s complicated. I hate that.’
‘No, even if it is… But I suppose I’d say we’re working on it. How’s that?’
‘OK. That’s good news, I guess. Did you two talk last night?’
‘No, I got in too late. I was shattered. We both were.’
‘Right. Well, in that case I’ll stop being nosy.’
‘You know, I don’t mind you being nosy at all. I’m kind of hoping we can open things up a bit around here. Talk a bit more openly. As a family, I mean.’
Fiona laughs. ‘Todd’s going to love that.’
‘Todd? Why Todd?’
‘Well, he never talks about sh— about anything… does he?’
‘No, I suppose he doesn’t much.’
‘And what about…? I thought Dad said he wanted to come to France.’
‘Yes, he did suggest it. But it just didn’t work out, really. It would have meant I had to stay on till mid-February. And once I’d decided to come home… well, you know how it is.’
‘Given the choice between the C?te d’Azur and Maidstone, I’m not sure I do.’
‘Oh, you do. It’s like, you know, when you’ve got a long journey and you end up leaving early, because you want to get on with it. Or, when you’re on holiday, and you suddenly feel like you’ve had enough and you want to get back to normal life.’
‘Never happened to me, Mum. Never. But OK. I get the point. And what about lovely Mittens? What did you do with him? I hope you haven’t left him to starve.’
‘Of course not. No, Manon’s going to try to catch him and take him to the vet, and then see if she can tame him. And in the meantime she has promised to feed him. She drives past the place three times a day, so… I left some money for food.’
‘She’s sweet,’ Fiona says. ‘But I still think you should have brought him home.’
‘Well, I would have had to catch him, for one. I never even managed to pick him up.’
‘And the cabin? Is it just sitting empty now?’
‘I don’t know. I assume that she’ll re-list it but I don’t know.
She refunded me in any case – for all the unused weeks.
So that was nice of her. I had a new car booked from tomorrow, the fourth – is that tomorrow?
So, yes, from tomorrow. Cancelling that before it got started saved me a fortune.
So those, you know, financial reasons kind of forced my hand to do things more quickly than I otherwise might have. But I’m good with that.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘But I may go back there sometime with your dad. I’d like him to see the place. Because otherwise it will always be one thing we never shared. I’m not sure if that makes much sense, but…’
‘Sure,’ Fiona says. ‘That makes perfect sense. Though it does make it sound like you’re maybe intending to stay together.’
‘Yes. Well, I hope so. We’ll see.’
‘Thank God!’ Fiona says. ‘My friend Glen’s parents are separating and it’s a bloodbath.’
‘Is it?’ Wendy says, glancing at the kitchen clock. She’s about to ask Fiona if she has school today but before she can do so her daughter speaks, pre-empting her.
‘I thought I might skive off today,’ she says. ‘Would that be OK?’
‘On your first day back?’
Fiona nods. ‘That’s why. I won’t miss much. And I could pretend I mucked up the dates. That way I can spend the day with you.’
‘Oh,’ Wendy says, feeling touched. ‘Oh, OK, then. Yes. Of course.’
‘You don’t mind?’
‘No. I’d like that a lot. And you know, I am sorry. I know I’ve been a nightmare.’
Fiona smiles and wrinkles her nose. ‘You haven’t been a nightmare, Mum. Well, maybe a bit of a nightmare. But it’s fine. Dad explained a bit.’
‘Oh? What did he explain?’
‘You know, about Gran and stuff. I know it was a lot. I hadn’t really thought about it much. I’d probably go a bit loopy if you popped your clogs, so…’
‘Well, thank you for being so understanding.’
‘I probably wasn’t at my best back then, either. I was, what, fourteen?’
‘It was 2019 so you would have been thirteen. And don’t worry, you were fine.’
‘Fine for a nightmare teenager, you mean?’
‘Yes, fine for a nightmare teenager.’
‘So what are we doing today?’ Fiona asks.
Wendy looks out at the rain again. ‘I thought we might go to the beach. Or maybe have a picnic in the park.’
‘Great ideas,’ Fiona says.
‘Alternatively we could rent a film and eat crisps on the sofa in front of the fire.’
Harry
‘Hey there.’
‘Hey! Ooh, kisses in the neck. That’s been a while.’
‘Well, that’s probably because it has been a while. What-ya-cookin?’
‘Lasagne. My world-famous veggie lasagne.’
‘Yum. But you know, you don’t have to do that. The freezer’s stuffed.’
‘I know. But I wanted to.’
‘OK. Well, I’m not complaining.’
‘Cooking makes the kitchen feel more like home. Well, I’m hoping it will, anyway. It’s a bit strange being back.’
Strange is something of an understatement, but how else can she describe this feeling?
Everything about being home feels alien, as if the house is perhaps a film set and Wendy an actress pretending to live there.
It’s awful and anxiety-inducing feeling like an imposter, and the only real habit calling to her is the one where she breaks out the booze in order to relax.
She’s hoping she can power through until everything feels normal.
‘Strange-good, or strange-bad?’ Harry asks.
‘Just strange. I can’t really explain. I’m trying to just do a normal day and see what happens.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’
‘Not sure,’ Wendy says. ‘I’ll let you know.’
‘OK. So what did you get up to in your normal day?’
‘Not much. It’s been a lazy one. I’m still shattered.’
‘I take it you saw Fifi before she left, though?’
‘She actually skived off. With my blessing, that is. She’s upstairs.’
‘Oh?’
‘I know you don’t approve. I don’t either really. But these are kind of exceptional circumstances. She wanted us to spend a day together, so…’
‘So you yielded to emotional blackmail.’
‘I did.’
‘Well, good for you. And was it nice, your mother-and-daughter day?’
‘Yes, it was good. We rented a film and ate crisps.’
‘Wow. I think I’m jealous.’
‘The film was a Julia Roberts rom-com.’
‘OK. Maybe not.’
Harry moves his dripping jacket from the chair-back to a hook above the radiator. ‘Can’t believe this weather,’ he says. ‘It’s like walking through a car wash.’
‘Yes. It’s horrid.’
‘Must be a bit of a shock for you, too?’
‘D’you know, I’ve hardly noticed it? I’m just glad to be home.’
‘Is everything… you know… OK?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘You seem a bit… I don’t know.’
‘… I seem a bit…?’
‘I don’t know. Have you got the hump with me? Is it because I had to leave early this morning?’
‘No, Harry. No everything’s fine. I don’t even know why you think that.’
‘You’re, you know, doing the no-eye-contact thing. Like right now. You’re staring very intently at your sauce.’
‘Well, if you don’t pay attention to béchamel it goes lumpy.’
‘Oh, OK. And that’s all it is?’
‘Yes. OK, actually, no. Like I said, it feels very strange being back. And if I’m being honest I feel a bit… shy around you, too. Is that weird?’
‘No. I feel kind of clunky around you. I think it’s probably normal. Tea?’
Wendy glances across at her husband, his hand frozen in mid-air before the mug rack, and for the first time since she got home something feels right. How nice it is to have someone come home and make you tea, she thinks. How nice that he’ll know exactly how I like it.
‘What?’ Harry asks, breaking into an embarrassed grin.
‘Nothing,’ Wendy says. ‘I was thinking how good looking you are. I don’t think I’ve noticed that for a while.’
Harry snorts. ‘And you’re sure you haven’t been drinking?’
Wendy rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll let that one pass.’
‘So? Tea?’
‘Yes. Tea!’ she says.