A Proper Family Holiday (18 page)

‘No, not at all.’ Chelsea put down her phone. ‘I’m listening. Look, I’m sorry you’re still not feeling well, but Sophie seems very grown-up. She’ll be fine. I can’t believe how much she’s matured. I was quite shocked when I first saw her yesterday afternoon.’

‘Well, if you’d been to see her more often, perhaps the difference wouldn’t seem so dramatic.’

‘It’s not that long since I was last at your house.’

‘You haven’t been to see us in over two years.’

‘You didn’t exactly bombard me with invitations.’

‘Well, you know why that is …’ said Ronnie.

‘No,’ said Chelsea.

‘Like you don’t remember? The last time you saw me, you told me that I’d given up on myself since I became a mother.’

‘I never said that.’

‘You did. You told me it must be awful never having to use your brain, and then you said perhaps that suited the kind of women who become mothers anyway. They can’t wait to stop using their brains.’

Chelsea rocked back as if to get out of the line of fire. ‘I never said any of that. You’re misremembering.’

‘I’m not.’

‘Well, I don’t remember saying any of it, but if I did, it sounds like I was making a general point anyway. I wasn’t having a go at you personally.’

‘Oh really?’

‘Yes, really. Perhaps all I was saying is that there are a lot of women out there who make out that motherhood is some great sacrifice, when, for the most part, it looks like an extended holiday to me. The women who’ve gone on maternity leave from my office seemed to spend all their time posting Twitter updates from paint-your-own-pottery cafés.’

‘And that makes you think it’s easy?’

‘Maybe they just make it
look
easy,’ said Chelsea. ‘Like you do.’

Ronnie thought she heard sarcasm again.

‘Well, let me tell you, it is not easy,’ Ronnie replied. ‘Not in the least. Can you even begin to imagine what it’s like to have to worry about the welfare of another human being twenty-four-seven, three hundred and sixty-five days a year?’

‘I have some idea after this morning at the Kidz Klub,’ said Chelsea.

‘Well, it’s not much of a holiday for me, that’s all I’m saying. I’m not off duty when we get to the hotel. I’ve still got to make sure they’re all washed and dressed and fed and happy and not bloody drowning in the pool. There’s no chance of me swanning off on a spa break with a bag full of paperbacks. I didn’t even have time to read the emergency card on the aeroplane. Every time I want to relax, somebody needs me to do something, or somebody’s making someone else cry. Between housework and homework and going to work and making sure the family runs like clockwork, I don’t have a second to think of myself. I don’t even have time to be ill.’

‘Fine,’ said Chelsea, holding up her hands. ‘I get it.’

‘I don’t think you do.’

‘I
do
get it.’

‘You called me a “mummy martyr” at Granddad Bill’s birthday.’

‘I genuinely don’t remember saying that, and I swear I didn’t mean it if I did. I do get it. Your life is
so
much harder than mine. It doesn’t count for anything that you have Mark while I have to do everything on my own. I work
full
time. I do
all
my own housework, and I pay
all
my own bills. I don’t have anyone to help me unblock the toilet in the middle of the night. There’s no one to so much as make me a cup of tea if I’m ill. You think that’s having it easy? You have no idea what my life is like.’

‘And you have no idea what my life is like, so perhaps we should leave it at that rather than getting into a contest as to who’s having the more shit time. I’m going to see if Jack’s finished his teeth. You can go back to reading your emails.’

Chelsea had picked up her iPhone in response to another ping. Like Pavlov’s dogs, she couldn’t
not
respond to the bell. She put it down again.

‘OK,’ she said. ‘I’ll do it.’

‘Do what?’

‘I’ll look after Jack again tomorrow morning so you can have some more rest. You clearly need it. Like you said this morning, he’s a good kid. He’s really no trouble. I’m sure I can manage a couple more hours.’

‘Are you serious?’

Chelsea nodded.

‘I don’t want you to put yourself out.’

‘I won’t be putting myself out. It’ll be my pleasure,’ Chelsea assured her.

Ronnie frowned. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Chelsea must have been expecting her to say, ‘Don’t bother,’ thinking she would get the brownie points anyway for having volunteered. She decided to call her bluff.

‘Well, if you really want to–’

‘Of course I want to. You have a lie-in. I’ll get him dressed and take him down to breakfast. Then we’ll find something to do until lunchtime. You can spend the whole morning in bed.’

Jack came out of the bathroom, grimacing to show his mother that his teeth – at least the ones at the front – were sparkling clean.

‘Auntie Chelsea is going to look after you again tomorrow morning,’ Ronnie told him.

‘Yay!’ Jack pumped his arms. ‘Aun-tie Chel-sea, Aun-tie Chel-sea.’ He sang her name as though it were a football chant.

‘I suppose that means he’s pleased,’ said Chelsea.

‘Oh yes,’ said Ronnie, ‘he’s delighted.’

Chapter Twenty-Three

Bill

The three men in the Benson party took up a small table in the corner by the TV screen. It was Dave and Mark’s usual preference to stand at the bar, but as they walked in, Dave spotted the two women Bill had insulted the previous evening and decided it would be better they stayed as far away from them as possible. Mark had heard the story of the previous night’s incident and understood Dave right away. Mark went up to the bar to get the drinks in, while Dave installed Bill and his walking stick safely in the corner under the enormous wall-hung television.

‘I can’t see anything from here,’ Bill complained.

‘That’s probably for the best,’ said Dave.

Over at the bar, Mark kept his head down, but just as the barman was pouring out the third and final pint, one of the women Bill had insulted – the blonde one – gave a little ‘ahem’ to catch his attention.

‘Having a nice evening?’ she asked.

‘Er, yes, thanks,’ said Mark.

The woman adjusted the front of her blouse as though to make sure her cleavage wasn’t showing, with the result that Mark couldn’t help but stare at the expanse of slightly crêpey, bronzed flesh she’d revealed. She’d done it deliberately, of course. Mark snapped his eyes back to the three pints arrayed on the counter. Was she coming on to him? The last thing he wanted was to be set upon by a cougar. He had a feeling he was already in Ronnie’s bad books. Besides, the texture of the blonde woman’s cleavage made him think of a perfectly roasted chicken.

‘Is that your dad?’ the woman asked, indicating Dave, who was semaphoring that Mark should get out of there pronto.

‘Father-in-law. Well, sort of. I’m not actually married to his daughter, but … You know. We’ve been together a long time. We’ve got two children.’

‘Aaaah,’ said the woman. ‘You don’t have to explain it to me, love. Nobody gets married first these days, do they? So that’s not your granddad?’

‘Bill? No. He’s my partner’s granddad.’

‘Lovely man,’ said the woman. ‘Really gentlemanly.’

Mark wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

‘We met him last night,’ the woman continued. ‘Will you tell him “hello” from me? My name is Gloria, and this is my friend Lesley.’

Mark and Lesley nodded to one another.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Lesley said.

‘Yeah,’ said Mark. ‘The same.’

What was going on? Mark looked to Dave for reassurance. Dave was busy fishing about on the floor for something Bill had dropped. Either that or he was hiding.

Mark gathered up the three pints. It was going to be tricky to carry all three at once without spilling anything, but he didn’t want to have to make a second trip. Gloria was scary. It was hard to believe that anything Granddad Bill said could have bothered her overly much. There was something of the shark beneath her rainbow eyeshadow and false lashes.

‘I was wondering … Do you mind if we join you?’ Gloria asked.

‘Join us?’ Mark squeaked.

‘Yes. Come and sit with you and your in-laws. I mean, Lesley and I love each other to bits, but we can’t help getting bored of each other, stuck with no one else to talk to all week. Isn’t that right, Lesley?’

Lesley nodded enthusiastically.

‘Well,’ said Mark, ‘I — My partner’s grandfather is a bit—’

‘—of a card! Oh, we know. That doesn’t matter to us. We like a laugh, don’t we, Lesley?’

Lesley nodded again.

‘In that case …’ said Mark. What else could he say?

Mark suspected having the ladies join them at the table was far from a brilliant idea, but he had no idea how to put them off without sounding rude, and so Gloria and Lesley gathered up their bottle of rosé and two glasses with unseemly haste and followed Mark over to the corner. As he saw all three make their approach, Dave’s eyes widened in horror. Bill, on the other hand, seemed delighted.

‘Well, would you look at this,’ he said, regarding the two
femmes d’un certain age
as though they were supermodels. ‘Now I really have won the bleeding lottery.’

‘Oh, you’re making us blush,’ said Gloria. ‘I’m Gloria.’

‘You’re glorious,’ said Bill.

She held out her hand to him and he kissed it. Gloria giggled.

‘I hope you don’t mind us joining you. I was telling your grandson it gets a bit boring being two single ladies holidaying alone.’

‘You’re never single?’ asked Bill.

‘To my eternal disappointment,’ said Gloria.

Mark gulped down a mouthful of beer before he choked on it. Dave just sat there saying nothing, looking as though he had been hit around the head with a wet fish.

‘Which isn’t to say that I haven’t had offers,’ Gloria continued. ‘It’s just that a woman in my position has to be careful. I’m sure you know what I mean, Bill.’

Bill nodded. He didn’t take his eyes from her cleavage.

‘So where are you gentlemen from?’ Lesley asked.

‘Coventry,’ said Bill.

‘Oh, I don’t know Coventry,’ said Gloria. ‘I’ve always wanted to visit, though. You’ll have to show me around one day.’

‘There’s not much to see,’ said Mark.

‘Not since the war, I suppose. Were you in the war, Bill?’

Dave and Mark groaned inwardly. She’d said the magic word.

‘Man and boy,’ said Bill.

‘I’d love to hear all about it,’ Gloria insisted.

‘I don’t think these ladies really want to hear how you killed an enemy soldier with your bare hands,’ Dave interrupted. ‘Not when they’ve just had their dinner. Not even if it was true,’ he added in an aside to Mark.

‘You’re right,’ said Bill. ‘I’ll save it for another time.’

‘I’ll look forward to it,’ said Gloria. She gave her empty glass a meaningful glance. Bill leapt to pick up the bottle of rosé and spilt a good deal of it over the front of his own trousers as he did so. Everyone affected not to have noticed.

‘So, what does one do around these parts for a good time after the bar shuts?’ Gloria asked then. ‘Any ideas?’

‘Wahey!’ said Bill. ‘Let’s all go down the disco and get grooving.’ Bill got to his feet and managed a couple of seconds of thrusting that would have made even the average rap star blush before he had to sit back down again.

‘Careful, Dad,’ said Dave. ‘You need to pace yourself. He’s had some trouble with his heart,’ Dave explained to the women.

‘You poor love,’ said Gloria, placing a hand on Bill’s knee.

‘I think I’m having a heart attack again now,’ Bill responded. He fluttered a hand against his chest.

‘But dancing’s supposed to be good exercise,’ Gloria winked.

‘I’m up for that,’ said Bill. ‘You, me and the girls.’ He nodded towards each of Gloria’s considerable breasts.

‘Oh, Bill!’ She patted his knee again.

‘Do you know what, Dad?’ said Dave. ‘I’m going to bed. Come on up with me. I’ll help you to the lift.’

‘It’s only eleven,’ said Gloria.

‘We’ve got an early start,’ said Dave. ‘A coach trip.’

‘Are we going on a coach trip?’ asked Bill. ‘Nobody tells me anything.’

‘Jacqui told you this morning. Come on.’

‘Yeah,’ said Mark. ‘I should be going too.’ None of the men had finished their drinks. ‘I’ll help you get up, Bill.’

‘Goodnight, Bill,’ said Gloria. ‘Have sweet dreams.’

‘Now you’ve given me something to dream about, I will.’

It was hard for Dave to persuade his father to go to bed that evening. Bill dug his heels in halfway down the corridor, saying he’d changed his mind and wanted to go to the disco with the ‘lovely young ladies’ downstairs.

‘Not tonight, Dad,’ said Dave. ‘I’ve got to get up in the morning.’

‘What for?’

Bill had forgotten all about the imaginary coach trip, so Dave gave him an entirely different reason.

‘Because Jacqui wants to go for a walk along the beach at sunrise, and it is her birthday week after all.’

Bill snorted. ‘I can go dancing on my own.’

‘No, Dad,’ said Dave, ‘you can’t.’

Dave hated to watch his father’s decline. There were evenings like tonight when for the most part he seemed to be his old self again, flirting with the ladies and cracking the odd joke that actually made sense, but then he would do something like that awful hip-thrusting dance, something that once upon a time would have made him blush with embarrassment if he’d even seen it on TV, and Dave was reminded that Bill’s brain was breaking down. Those mental fences that had kept him from being rude or lewd ever since he understood what the word ‘rude’ meant, now had great big gaps in them, allowing the worst of Bill to slip through and cause havoc.

On nights like tonight, Bill’s old self would want to know why he was being treated like a child and it was hard to have to remind him that he needed supervision these days. Bill might think of himself as an adult, perfectly capable of going out alone, but that was because he seemed to have no memory of the numerous times lately he had been found wandering around Aldi in his dressing gown. The last thing Dave needed was for Bill to forget where he was, here in Lanzarote. Who knew where he might end up? Floating face down in the sea?