I’ve calmed down from the discussion with Dad by the time I turn the corner towards our house. Until I see Mum’s car parked beside the gate to the driveway. She’s taken the parcel shelf off and I notice the suitcases in the boot. She’s either back here to stay, or she’s here to take Dad off somewhere. Neither option appeals. A third one is that she is on her way back to Devon. This would be my preferred option.
“I’m back.” I step from the porch into the hallway. Silence.
I find them in the conservatory. Dad is doing his usual pacing of the floor.
“Ah Fiona. Did Jack get to school OK?”
“No, I lost him on the way. Of course he did! Alright Mum?”
“Fiona.” She nods stiffly, her earrings jangling. The cat is curled up beside her.
“Your mother and I are going away for a few days,” Dad says. He always avoids eye contact when he feels uncomfortable. “But we’ll be here for the funeral. We’ll drive back early. Promise.”
“All right Roger. There’s no need to go overboard.”
“Where are you going?”
“Just to Penrith. It’s in the North of the Lake District. It’s only a couple of hours away.”
“I know where Penrith is.” Rob and I stayed at a log cabin there before we had Jack. It was the middle of winter and it had a hot tub. I close my eyes against the memory. “It’s a bit sudden, isn’t it?”
“We don’t need to explain everything to you Fiona.” Whatever I did for Mum to despise me so much, I don’t know. “We’ve helped you with the funeral money since you’ve spent everything your grandmother left you. What more do you want from us?
The way she uses us makes me feel like an outcast. That’s how she operates. But I need to keep her on side, so they don’t go back on their decision to pay the funeral fees for me. I’m grateful to Dad. I don’t know how he talked her round, but I feel certain she will have put up some resistance. She helps others occasionally, but it comes at a cost, as it does with most narcissistic people. Before the funds have even been invoiced from the funeral director, Mum’s already throwing it back in my face.
“You will be there, won’t you?” I don’t even try to keep the pleading edge from my voice. Dad has been my rock lately. I wish Mum would bugger off. Now I see how well he’s been coping; I hope she reconciles with Shane. It’s amazing how much my feelings and behaviour have changed towards her over this last fortnight. Until then, I feared her. Especially the threat of her rejection that hung over me, and ultimately Jack too. After all, she’s the only Grandma Jack has. A strength I’ve never had before has fired in me over the last ten days, and I realise I owe her nothing, apart from the funeral money. I guess I’m realising what’s really important in life.
“I’m not a hundred percent sure I’ll be there Fiona.” She won’t meet my eyes now.
“Rob was your son-in-law.” I open the door to let some air in. I’m burning with anger. “How could you not be there? If Dad’s coming back, surely you’ll be with him?”
“I know what you’re saying Fiona. But I’ll have to see how I feel on Friday.” She strokes the cat as she speaks.
I stare at her. She’s wearing a short denim skirt, white low-cut blouse, and flip-flops. She dresses as though she’s far younger than she is. Dad always seems pleased to have her on his arm on the rare occasions they go out together. She might look the part, but inside she’s dead. I hate her right now and I can’t keep this out of my voice. “I can’t believe you’re talking about seeing how you feel. It’s my husband, who has just died. Can’t you be there for me, for a change?”
“I will do what I want to, Fiona. If I decide to come, I’ll be there. If I don’t, I won’t.”
Something inside me snaps. “Don’t bother Mum. It’s not as if you’d offer any support, anyway. You enjoy your holiday.”
“Wait in the car, love.” Dad nods in the direction of the door. “I want a quick chat with Fiona.”
“You’re packing me off whilst you talk about me behind my back?” Mum pouts, like Jack would. “It’s always been the same. You and your little father and daughter unit. Then you wonder why I’m so unhappy.”
“God, she’s such a witch.” I sink into the chair Mum has just left, the wicker creaking beneath me. The cat jumps off and runs into the dining room. Even she doesn’t want to sit with me. “I can’t believe you’re clearing off on holiday Dad.”
“She booked and paid for it all before she mentioned it.” Dad looks so beleaguered; I almost feel sorry for him. Almost. “Don’t call her a witch. I reckon she wants to apologise for what she’s done with that Shane one.”
“You’re a coward Dad. Grandma was right. You let her walk all over you.”
“Don’t be like this. Look, I promise I’ll be here first thing Friday morning. With, or without your mother.”
“Make it without, if you don’t mind. I don’t want her there.”
* * *
This time in forty-eight hours,
it will all be over.
Chapter 39
The thud of the post on the doormat makes me jump in the house’s silence. Now that news of Rob’s death has spread, and I have announced the funeral, there are several sympathy cards, mostly signed from people I don’t know, then in brackets cycle club, or golf club.
There’s a letter from the mortgage company about the bloody arrears, since I didn’t
