Time of My Life (32 page)

‘Mum.’ She looked up and as soon as I saw her face I felt sick. ‘Mum, what’s happened?’

Her face crumpled then and she reached out to me. I held her in my arms and comforted her, thinking that’s all she needed but then I heard a sniffle, then another, then a squeak and a whimper and I realised she was crying.

‘It’s Father, isn’t it?’

She wailed even more.

‘He’s dead, is he dead?’ I panicked.

‘Dead?’ She stopped crying then and looked at me in alarm. ‘What have you heard?’

‘Heard? Nothing. I’m just guessing. You’re crying and you never cry.’

‘Oh, he’s not dead.’ She rooted in her sleeve and pulled out a snotty tissue. ‘But it’s off. The whole thing is off.’ She started crying again.

In shock I put one arm around her shoulders and scrambled in my bag with the other for my keys. I ushered her into the apartment. It smelled clean from the carpets and I was so thankful I’d got the job done and changed the light bulb. Mr Pan, who’d already heard our voices at the door, was waiting there eagerly; he rushed in and out of my legs with excitement, unable to contain himself.

‘He’s absolutely unbearable,’ Mum cried. She entered the flat and it was only then that I realised she had quite a sizeable bag in her hand. She barely looked around, just sat up at the breakfast counter on a high stool and put her hands to her head. Mr Pan jumped up on the couch, then to the counter and slowly crept towards her. She reached out and started rubbing him without thinking.

‘So the marriage is over?’ I asked her, trying to take in this alien who had invaded my mother’s body.

‘No, no,’ Mum said dismissively. ‘The
wedding
is off.’

‘But the marriage is on?’

‘Of course,’ she said, wide-eyed, surprised I’d even mention such a thing.

‘Okay let me get this straight.’ I sat down beside her. ‘He is so unbearable you will not renew your vows but you’ll stay married to him?’

‘I could marry that man once, but I could never marry him twice!’ she declared confidently, then she groaned, and collapsed on the counter. Suddenly she popped her head up again. ‘Lucy, you have a cat.’

‘Yes. This is Mr Pan.’

‘Mr Pan,’ she smiled. ‘Hello, beautiful.’ He was in heaven under her touch. ‘How long have you had him?’

‘Two years.’

‘
Two years
? Why on earth wouldn’t you tell us that?’

I shrugged, rubbed my eyes and mumbled. ‘It made sense at the time.’

‘Oh, dear, let me make you some tea,’ she said, sensing a problem.

‘No, you sit down. I’ll do it. Go make yourself comfortable on the couch.’

She looked at it, a large brown suede L-shaped couch that took over the entire room.

‘I remember this,’ she said, then she looked around and took in the rest of the room as if suddenly realising she was inside for the first time. I braced myself but she turned to me with a smile. ‘How cosy. You’re absolutely right. Your father and I are rattling around that big house like marbles.’

‘Thanks.’ I filled the kettle. Her phone started ringing; she clamped her handbag shut tighter to quiet it.

‘That’s him. He’s relentless.’

‘Does he know where you are?’ I tried to hide my amusement.

‘No, he does not, and don’t you think of telling him.’

She walked to the window trying to figure out how to get around to the couch but on seeing it was shoved up against the windowsill she went back the other direction searching for a way in.

‘Mum, what on earth happened?’

Once at the other end of the couch she found it was lodged against the kitchen counter. So she did what any normal person apart from my mother would do and she lifted her leg and climbed over the back of the couch.

‘I married a selfish beast, that’s what happened. And go ahead and laugh, I know you think we’re two old farts but there’s life in this old fart yet.’ She made herself comfortable on the couch, kicking off her black patent pumps and tucking her feet close to her bum.

‘We’re out of milk,’ I said guiltily. Usually Mum served me tea on a silver tray in her finest bone china. This was not adequate.

‘Black is fine,’ she said, summoning the mug of tea towards her.

I climbed onto the couch with the mugs in hand and sat on the opposite part of the L. I put my feet up on the coffee table. Never had we both sat together like that before.

‘So tell me what happened?’

She sighed and blew on her tea. ‘It wasn’t one thing, it was a great many things but his behaviour with you was the straw that broke the camel’s back,’ she said feistily. ‘How dare he speak to my daughter like that. How dare he speak to your guest like that and I told him so.’

‘Mum, he always speaks to me like that.’

‘Not like that. Not like that.’ She looked me dead in the eye. ‘Up until then he was being his usual bastard self’ – my mouth dropped – ‘which I could deal with but then, no, that got to be too much. It’s this blasted wedding. I wanted to organise it to bring us together, so that we could become closer. I wanted him to put a bit of thought into the last thirty-five years of our marriage and help celebrate it with me. Instead, it’s turned into an ostentatious fanfare full of people I honestly don’t even like.’

I gasped again. It was like one revelation after another, and it was my mother’s mind which intrigued me so much more than the state of their marriage which didn’t much concern me. They were grown-ups, it was ridiculous of me to think it had been a bed of roses for them over the past thirty-five years.

‘And his mother.’ Her hands went flying to her hair as she mock-pulled it out. ‘That woman is worse now than on our wedding day. She gives her tuppence worth on every little detail, which frankly means jack shit to me.’

Jack shit?

‘Honestly, Lucy, she is so rude and you are so funny with her.’ She leaned forward and placed her hand on my knee. ‘I wish I could think of the things you say to her.’ She chuckled. ‘What was the one about the breastfeeding, my lord, that was the best one yet, I thought her dentures were going to fall out of her head.’ Then she turned serious again. ‘I said after my wedding that I would never organise anything again – she had her paws all over every aspect of that day just like my mother did – but this wedding, I wanted it to be
mine
. All mine. A lovely memory to share with my children.’ She looked at me softly and reached for my hand again. ‘My lovely daughter. Oh, Lucy, I’m sorry I’m unloading all of this on you.’

‘Not at all. Keep unloading, I’m really enjoying it.’

She looked surprised.

‘I mean, I can’t believe you’re saying all of this. You’re usually so composed.’

‘I know.’ She bit her lip and looked guilty. ‘I know,’ she whispered, almost afraid, and placed her head in her hands. Then she bolted upright in her seat and said firmly, ‘I know. And that is exactly what I need to be from now on. Unlike me. I’ve been like me my whole life. I wish I was more like you, Lucy.’

‘You what?’

‘You’re so gung-ho.’ She punched the air. ‘You know what you want to do and you don’t care what anybody says or thinks. You were always like that, even as a child, and I need to be more like that. You see, I never knew what I wanted to be – I still don’t know. All I knew was that I was supposed to get married and have babies just like my mother did and my sisters did, I
wanted
to do that. I met your father and I was his wife, that is who I was. Then I had my children.’ She reached out to me again, I assumed so I wouldn’t take offence at what she was saying. ‘And then I was a mother. That’s who I was. A wife and a mother but I don’t know if I was or if I am of any real value. You and the boys are all grown up, so what am I now?’

‘I always need you,’ I protested.

‘That’s sweet,’ she said, rubbing my cheek affectionately, then she let go. ‘But that’s not true.’

‘And you’re a wonderful grandmother now too.’

She rolled her eyes, then looked guilty again. ‘Yes, of course and that is wonderful, believe me it is. But that’s me doing things and being things for other people, I’m Jackson and Luke and Jemima’s grandmother, I’m your and Riley’s and Philip’s mother, I’m Samuel’s wife, but who am I to me? Some people have always known what they’re good at. My friend Ann always knew she wanted to teach, and that’s what she did, moved to Spain and met a man and now they drink wine and eat charcuterie and watch the sunset and teach every day.’ She sighed. ‘I never have known what I wanted to do, what I was good at. I still don’t know.’

‘Don’t speak like that. You’re a wonderful mother.’

She smiled sadly. ‘No offence, my darling, but I want to be more.’ Then she nodded to herself as if in agreement with a silent thought.

‘You’re angry now,’ I said gently. ‘Understandably. I couldn’t spend three minutes with Father never mind thirty-five years. But perhaps when you’ve had a chance to cool down, you’ll be excited about the ceremony.’

‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘It’s off. I mean it.’

‘But there’s only a month to go. The invitations have already gone out. Everything has been booked.’

‘And they can all be cancelled. There’s plenty of time. There will be a small fee for some of it – the dresses will always be nice to have and the boys can always do with smart suits. I don’t care. I’ll send a personal note to everybody to let them know it’s cancelled. I am not marrying your father a second time. Once is enough. I have done what people have wanted me to do all of my life. I have been responsible and dutiful and appropriate at all times and on all occasions but to celebrate
my life
– thirty-five years of marriage with three beautiful children – I do not want an event at City Hall filled with everyone from the law world. It is not fitting. It does not represent what I have accomplished in my life, but merely what he has in his profession.’

‘What would you like then?’

She looked at me in surprise, but she didn’t answer.

‘Don’t you know?’

‘It’s not that, it’s just that nobody ever asked me.’

‘I’m sorry I haven’t been helping you. I’ve been so selfish.’

‘Not at all. You’ve had an exciting adventure with your life. That’s important, believe me,’ she said wistfully. ‘How is that going, by the way?’

‘Oh,’ I sighed, ‘I don’t know.’

She looked at me for more and after everything she’d said, about not feeling like a good mother, I couldn’t hold back.

‘I lost my job, my car got scrapped, I’ve hurt a perfectly good one-night-stand, Melanie’s not speaking to me, neither are the others, my neighbour thinks I’m evil, I went to Wexford to tell Blake that I loved him and wanted him back but realised when I got there that I didn’t and now my life is moving on without me. So, that’s my life in a nutshell.’

Mum put her delicate fingers to her lips. The corners of her mouth twitched. She let out a little high-pitched, ‘Oh.’ Then she started laughing. ‘Oh, dear, Lucy.’ Then she couldn’t stop.

‘I’m glad my life amuses you,’ I smiled, watching her fall back on the couch in hysterics.

Mum insisted on staying the night with me, partly because my birthday was imminent but mostly because she didn’t want to interrupt Riley and his boyfriend no matter how much I told her he wasn’t gay. While she was showering I hid Mr Pan in an oversized handbag and brought him to the park across the road. Fresh air was supposed to help and so I prayed for the wind to pick up and to blow the thoughts out of my head. My neighbour, Claire, was sitting on a bench in the playground, with the buggy beside her.

‘Mind if I join you?’

She shook her head. I sat beside her with Mr Pan on my knee. Claire looked down at him.

‘I’m sorry I thought you were—’

‘I know,’ I interrupted. ‘It’s okay.’

He began to struggle and so I let him free to roam.

We sat in silence.

‘He loves the swings,’ she finally said, watching them. ‘I’ve never heard him laugh so much as when he’s on them.

‘I used to love the swings too,’ I said and we fell back into silence.

‘How is he?’

‘Pardon?’ She snapped out of her trance.

‘Conor. Yesterday you said he was sick, how is he now?’

‘He’s not getting any better,’ she said distantly.

‘Have you brought him to a doctor?’

‘No.’

‘Maybe you should.’

‘Do you think so?’

‘If he’s not well.’

‘It’s just … I hate doctors. I hate hospitals even more but with Mum sick, I just have to go. I haven’t been since …’ She trailed off, looking momentarily confused. Another few minutes passed before she spoke again. ‘My mum is improving.’

‘That’s great news.’

‘Yes,’ she smiled. ‘It’s funny, it takes her going through all that to unite us all again.’

‘In my apartment the other day, that was your husband?’

She nodded. ‘We’re not together but …’

‘You never know,’ I finished for her.

She nodded. ‘He’s not sick sick.’

‘Your husband?’

‘No, Conor. He’s not sick, he’s just different.’

‘In what way?’

‘He’s quieter.’ She turned to me then, her eyes – wide and worried – were filled with tears. ‘He’s much quieter. I don’t hear him so much any more.’

We returned our gaze to the unmoving swing and I thought of Blake and the sounds of our memories that were getting quieter, and the feelings I had for him, which felt further and further away from my heart.

‘Maybe that’s not such a bad thing, Claire.’

‘He loved swings,’ she said again.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, noting her use of the past tense. ‘I loved swings too.’