“I’ve told you I wouldn’t want her here for any length of time, anyway. But it’s got nothing to do with you Rob.” I try to move past him, but he steps towards me, blocking my path.
“Nothing to do with me! It’s bad enough what she’s doing to your dad,” he begins. “But if you think I’m going to stand back and watch as she emotionally blackmails you, I’m not. She’s had far too much control for too long.”
I keep my tone low and even, hoping Rob will follow suit. I hate rows. “I know you mean well. But they’re my parents. I’ll deal with it.”
“Whether or not you like it, I’m involved too. Jack’s my son. I’m telling you now Fiona. If Maggie doesn’t stop issuing threats and ultimatums, and doesn’t leave you out of it, I will tell your dad what is going on myself, when I answer the phone to him.”
“You wouldn’t. You saw what happened before.” We face each other as opponents, rather than as husband and wife.
“Fair enough. I’ll drive over then. Tell him to his face. Stay with him afterwards. I mean it Fiona. We are not lying to protect her.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything.”
“You’re asking me to lie if I answer the phone. Whilst she gallivants around at the other end of the country.”
“Well, let the answerphone pick up then.” Dad’s always had the belief that it’s cheaper to ring the landline. Then I realise that if I were to simply unplug it, he’d have to ring my mobile, reducing the chances of Rob intercepting his call.
“Fiona. For God’s sake.” He places his hand on my arm, but it’s a grip rather than a placating touch. “I can’t believe the hold that woman has on you. Let her go. She does absolutely nothing for you. And never has. You need to give her a wide berth.”
He’s right, I know, but it still hurts, hearing it said out loud. “But Jack loves her. So she can’t be that bad.”
“Jack’s seven years old.” He glances towards the picture of him on the fridge. “And easily won over with a new toy. Your mother knows exactly what she’s doing. She’s one of the most manipulative women I’ve ever met.”
“I know.”
“Then do the right thing Fiona.” Rob steps back from me now. “Tell her to go home. Sort her marriage out.”
“I can’t tell her anything. She’s not coming back after dropping Jack off.”
“She’s going straight to Devon? Selfish cow.”
“She’s really unhappy Rob. And I don’t think she realises the effect she has on other people.”
“I don’t give a shit how unhappy she is. She has no right expecting you to lie for her. I’ll tell her for you.”
“No,” I blurt. “I know you’re right, but it needs to come from me. I stood up to her before - when we were upstairs, and I’ve got to keep doing it.”
He shakes his head as he turns away. “Like I said, you need to see someone about this. You’re not a little girl anymore. And if you’re not careful, you’ll be hitting the bottle again.”
I notice the pitying expression on his face, and the rarely felt kick-ass woman deep inside me fires. “No, I will not. You’ve room to talk anyway Rob. About lies and deceit.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My mother isn’t the only person keeping secrets. I know there’s something going on, Rob.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well, maybe a bike ride will be a good time for you to think about it. You said you’re off out to blow away the cobwebs. We’ll talk later.” Part of me wants to have it out with him now, but I’ve had enough this morning. I just want some peace.
Rob reaches for his cycle helmet. “You need to talk to your mum first. Ring her. Or I’ll be speaking to your dad.”
I sigh as the side gate clangs after him. He is right about my mother though. What the hell did I ever do to deserve her? I feel drained every time we part company, no matter how briefly I’ve been around her. If I had siblings to compare notes with, it wouldn’t be so bad. Dad is blindsided by her because he’s terrified of being on his own. He probably wouldn’t know what to do without her ordering him around all the time. It’s like he’s become institutionalised.
I decide to give him a ring. Get in there first. There’s less chance of him ringing later and Rob answering then. I’ll speak to Rob again when he gets back. Hopefully, he will be in a better mood and I can persuade him to keep out of it. I want to speak to him about the Bryony situation too. I was planning to yesterday, after he was late back for the Sunday lunch I’d spent ages cooking, but Mum arrived.
“Hi Dad, it’s me.” I walk through the kitchen and out of the conservatory door towards the garden swing. It’s too nice to be inside.
“Who’s me?” He does it every time. He thinks it’s funny to pretend not to recognise my voice. I can’t be bothered going through the usual rigmarole of it today.
“Me, Dad.” I lower myself onto the swing.
“What’s up with you Fiona? You sound stressed. Your mother isn’t on your case already, is she?” I know what he’s getting at. At every given opportunity since Jack was born, whenever Mum gets the opportunity, she will criticise my parenting skills; she can never resist. She criticises everything, from how I feed and dress Jack, to his routine and activities.
Then if it’s not that, it’s the inheritance. It’s not my fault that Grandma left me half a million. Dad decided at the time to respect his mother’s wishes and let me have it. Mum despised him for it. Grandma left him fifty grand as well,
