Love Is a State of Mind: Nobody's Life is Perfect (31 page)

“I hadn’t even realised I was doing it,” I say, and stop.  I pause for a while and then say, “I was thinking how crucial it is to be honest with people … looking back, I realise how important it was for David to tell me the truth.  He could have carried on seeing Suzie behind my back, but he didn’t, he faced me – it was hard for me to hear, but I’m glad he did.”

“So … why are you thinking about this now?”

“Well, I want to say something to you, Marcus, which you might not like to hear.”  I stare at him with a little smile.  His eyes cloud and I wonder what he’s going to say.

“When I said you were like Jane, I didn’t say I wanted you to turn into a nagging wife.” 

I’m not sure whether this is said as a joke or if he really means it.  His expression doesn't help me.  “Well?” he says.  “Spit it out.”

“It’s difficult … Jane’s actually told me
not
to say anything to you, but I’m going to ignore her.”

“Sounds ominous.  You better just say it, now.  I’m all ears.”

“Well … Jane’s really worried about your health …”

“Really?  Why on earth is she worried about me?  I’m fine, as far as I know.  I get stressed, I know, and grumpy, but …”

“She … she worries about the amount of wine you drink.  There, I’ve said it.”

There was a long pause.  Marcus stood up and, deliberately to my eyes, went and topped up his glass.  He knocked it back and then took the bottle over to the table by the sofa and sat down.

“She shouldn’t discuss my so-called health with anyone but me …”

“Look, Marcus, you can be angry with
me
if you want, but don’t blame her.  Obviously, she’s going to discuss it with me.  She has to live with you, throwing wine down your neck every night, falling asleep on the sofa.  She can see the affect it’s having on you, on her and your marriage.  She’s bound to want to talk about it, to her only sister.  I wanted to tell you because you’ve both made such a great decision over the house and you’re trying to sort your lives out.  This is just one more piece of the puzzle.  I thought I’d tell you, so that you could think about it and work out why you drink so much.”

Even to me, I sound like some kind of annoying therapist.  I look at him to see how he’s going to react and all I can say is, he looks a bit defeated; as if the fight has gone out of him.

“I don’t drink
that
much …”

“It depends how you look at it,” I say.  “Yes, it’s wine, not spirits, but … you drink enough to obliterate the day – every day.  It
can’t
be good for your blood pressure and you’ve put on a lot of weight …”

“Don’t sugar-coat it, will you?”

“As I said, I’m trying to be honest.  Because I care for
both
of you.  Jane’s worried you’re going to kill yourself.  She doesn’t want to lose you.”

He puts the glass down and puts his head in his hands.  I decide to sit down next to him and put my arm around him.  I pull him towards me.  “I don’t think I’m saying anything you didn't know already, am I?”

He lifts his head and says, “No, I suppose not.  But it’s hard …”

“I know, I know it’s hard, but it’s worth trying to change, isn’t it?”

“I’ve tried to cut down in the past, but … I always revert.  Work stresses me out.”

“Do you know what … I think you should address the work situation first.  It seems to me that work is at the bottom of
all
your problems.  Have you ever considered cutting down your hours?  Is it possible?”

“I’ve thought about it, but never actually asked …”

“Well, why don’t you ask if it’s possible?  You’ll never know, if you don’t ask.  You’re going to sell this – it must be worth a fortune – and when you’ve bought the two small places, you’ll have some left over, won’t you?  You could maybe live off that, to top up your salary for a couple of years … maybe Jane could do some more work … there are
options
, Marcus, you know.  You mustn't feel stuck on this treadmill.  You
can
make changes.”

“Yea, you’re right.”  He looks tired, so I don't say anything else.  I’ve sewn the seed and hopefully something will have gone in.  “Don’t forget we’ve got debts.  I’m not sure if there
will
be anything left …”

“Well, these are all things that need to be sorted out … but at least you’ve made a start.  I hope you don’t mind me saying something …”

“I won’t hold it against you,” he says, with a little grin.  “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to retire to my bed,” and with that, he gets up and leaves the room.

I sit and reflect on the conversation and feel I can do no more.  Hopefully, they will at least move closer towards each other now.  Things aren’t going to happen overnight, but maybe my little nudging of them both, will have helped, just a tad.

I feel like I’ve played Gaz’ role as a go-between, without the silky black ears, brown eyes and waggy tail.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Facebook message from Adam:

Can you or Jane pick me up from the airport?  I get in at 18.15 your time on Thursday.  Can’t wait to get away for a few days.  Jake’s driving me nuts (will explain when I see you) and the cleaning is doing my head in.  I thought I was messy – God, the state some people leave their vans in.  It’s disgusting. 

Anyway, I hope you’ve got lots planned for me?  Can’t wait to have a look at Adelaide.  I’m not bringing my board, you’ll be pleased to hear.  Thought it would be good to give surfing a rest for a few days.  If there’s time, I’d love to go to some of the wineries up in the Adelaide Hills.  A mate told me about them and they sound cool.

I’ll text if I’m delayed but hopefully, see you soon.  Adam xxx

I haven’t heard from him for ages, so it’s a relief to get this.  I write back.

Hey – I can’t believe it.  So excited.  I think Holly’s told you her news?  Brilliant isn’t it?  I think you’ll really like Jed.  Sorry there’s issues with Jake – maybe a year is too long to be with someone, even when they’re your best mate?  Yes, we’ll defo go up to the Hills.  Glad you’re not bringing the board, not sure I could stand the strain of actually watching you, knowing there are sharks around!  Seems years since I last saw you, not months.  See you soon, Mum xxx

Jane and I set out to pick him up – it’s odd to be returning to the airport already.  Seems like minutes since I was here, being picked up myself and it dawns on me that I’ve only got just two weeks left. 

We park the car and make our way to arrivals.  We wander right into an area that would normally be out of bounds, but this is a domestic flight – so it’s a bit like catching a bus and turning up to the bus station.

I catch sight of Adam as he walks purposefully towards us, in amongst loads of other tanned people.  He looks different, even from here, older and less like a boy. 

I start to wave like a banshee and rush towards him.  If I’d done this in the past, he would have been embarrassed, but he seems to be genuinely pleased to see me, wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me, till I laugh.

“It’s so lovely to see you at last Adam,” I say, breathing in his smell – sweat and Paco Rabanne, mixed with coconut sun oil.  I don’t want to let him go, but I do, and he kisses my cheek loudly.

“You look fab, Mum – you look younger, somehow.  What have you done to yourself?  Botox?” he grins.

“Cheeky.  It’s just the sun, this beautiful place … anyway, Jane, meet your grown-up nephew!”

They hug each other and Jane says, “Wow!  I really
can
say it – you’ve grown a bit!”

I look at him.  He’s filled out, got taller; his hair’s longer, blonder.  His face is browner than I’ve ever seen it and it makes his eyes stand out and his teeth look whiter.  I can’t believe what a handsome devil he is.

“Well, you look
older
,” I say.  “You look so … well … so … Aussie.”

“Yea, I suppose I do – I can even hear myself doing the upward inflection, but all my Aussie friends laugh at my accent.  They think it’s quaint.”

“Come on,” says Jane,  “Let’s go to the car and get you home.  Supper’s waiting …”

Adam swings his rucksack onto his back and we walk across the concourse together, Jane with her arm through his.  He’s chatting away to her and when I look at him, I’m so proud of him.  What a brilliant boy he’s turning into.

*

“So, my big sister’s got herself a lawyer, then?” he says, as he tucks into supper.  He’s eating as if he hasn’t eaten for a week, rolling spaghetti expertly round his fork.  “Any date for the wedding?”

“Not yet … but I don’t think they’ll hang around.  I’m so pleased – he’s perfect for her.  I think you’ll really like him when you meet him, eventually.  What are your plans, anyway?  Have you got any?” I laugh.

“Well, I did think for a while I wanted to stay here.  But it’s not that easy, there are so many rules and regulations and anyway, I’m coming round to thinking I
will
go to uni.  Dad’ll be amazed.  I got the grades, so I may as well.  What the hell!”

“What are you going to study, Adam?” asks Jane.  I’m sitting quietly smiling to myself, realising that it means that he’ll be home soon.  I’d thought he might be planning to live here forever.

“Sports studies.  It’s all about the psychology and coaching … and I can specialise in water sports.  When I was applying, it was the only thing I thought I could possibly do – I saw the course at Solent, and that was it.  Then I went off the whole idea – I thought I wouldn’t get the grades.  But much to my amazement and my parents’, I did.”  He laughed, looking over at me with an ironic grin.  “I know Dad thought I ought to do something more worthy, but … it’s what I want to do.”

“It’s good to know what you want, Adam.  It’s brilliant news.  What’s Jake going to do?” I ask.

“God knows.”

“Oh.  Doesn’t he talk about it much?”

“I’ll tell you later, Mum.  I’d rather forget him for now.”

I leave it there, but I’m intrigued.  I’m worried for Laura’s sake and am determined to find out the truth.

“So … what do you think of Australia, then?  Do we measure up?” says Jane.

“I love it here, I really do.  I’ve had an amazing time, made some great friends.  Your TV’s crap, though.  God, how do you watch it?” he laughed.

“They’ve forgotten what decent telly’s like,” I say.   “I couldn’t believe how many adverts they have.  I lost the will to live when we watched a film the other night.  It feels like they interrupt it every five minutes.”

Jane laughed.  “You get used to it, in the end.  Or, you do what we do, and download things off the internet.”

“That’s one thing I won’t miss when I go back to the UK,” says Adam, “but there’s loads I
will
miss.  The weather.  The beaches.  The people.  The laid-back attitude.  The food.  There’s so much to like.  But there’s one more thing I hate, Auntie Jane, and that’s their attitude to the Aboriginals.  I hate the way they’ve been treated.  I didn’t know anything about it until I came here.”

“It’s a very complicated area,” says Jane.  “I hate it too, but when you live here, you realise it’s not something that can be easily sorted out and in the end, you kind of accept the situation.  It’s awful, I know.  We’ve got some friends who went and worked with Aboriginals in the bush for a while, and some of the stories they told … it’s hard to believe what goes on.  They were here thousands of years before us and we took their land and now they’re … lost, really but … it’s so difficult to help them.  The Government try to bring in all sorts of initiatives, but they just seem to make it all worse.”  Jane looks wistful and continues.  “One good thing is that at least some of their artists are paid for their wonderful art work now.  One of my projects I’m going to be working on is a children’s book that’s going to have some Aboriginal illustrations, alongside mine.  It’s going to be really exciting.”

“You didn’t tell me that,” I say.

“No, well, it hasn’t come up … but I’m going to be working with the Aboriginal artist next year.  We ought to go to this fabulous gallery in the city where there are masses of paintings – would you be interested in going, Adam?”

“Definitely.  I bought a book about their art, as I love it so much.”

This is a side of Adam that is completely new to me.  He did Art GCSE but has never shown any real interest in it. 

“That’s brilliant, Adam.  Let’s go tomorrow,” I say.  I realise I know very little about it, but suddenly feel the need to learn.  The picture I bought in Cornwall somehow represented my future.  Perhaps I could take something back home, that would remind me of my time here.

That night, when Adam has gone to his room and I’m in bed, I remember he said he wanted to talk to me about something.  I lie awake for a long while, worrying what it is.  I know it’s not his future as he’s now told us about uni.  Perhaps it’s just this issue with Jake?  I’m going to have to make it possible for him to talk to me, alone.  We’re all going to go to the city tomorrow, but maybe in the morning, while Jane’s working, we can walk and chat.