Perfect Daughter

by Amanda Prowse

‘Course. Bye, Jacks!’ Stephanie called from the front door.

  ‘Bye, love. Take care!’ Jacks walked into the front room and leant on the doorframe, wiping her wet hands on a tea towel, watching as Martha sank down on to the sofa and opened her notebook before picking a pen from a stash in the front pocket of her backpack. ‘When did you get to be so smart?’ She smiled at her beautiful girl.

  Martha shrugged. ‘Dunno. Guess I take after my mum.’

  Jacks pulled back her shoulders. ‘I don’t know about that.’

  The bell rang from the upstairs landing, followed by Ida’s call. ‘Someone, please! I need some help!’

  ‘Sounds like you’re needed,’ Martha said sympathetically.

  Jacks sighed and headed for the stairs.

  ‘Someone! Toto?’ Her voice was louder this time.

  ‘I’m coming, Mum!’ Jacks shouted as she took the stairs two at a time.

  Hurrying, she pushed the door open wide and found Ida crying. Big fat tears fell down her mum’s cheeks, turning her eyes blood red and making her nose run.

  ‘Oh, Mum!’ Jacks sat on the side of the bed and plucked a tissue from the man-size box on the windowsill. ‘What’s this all about? Come on, let’s dry those tears.’ She pushed the thin wisps of grey hair from her mother’s forehead and gently mopped at her face. ‘There, there, it’s okay. Nothing can be that bad!’ She smiled, feeling slightly repulsed by the proximity of her mum’s face to her own, and then instantly guilty because of that.

  ‘I need my letter,’ Ida wailed. ‘I need it. He promised. Being here on my own is no fun, none at all and he promised me! I don’t know where he is. He went to dig up oil.’

  ‘It takes a long time for letters to get back. And if he promised, then I’m sure it’ll be on its way.’ Jacks swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing her dad were the man of his youth. Before her arrival, he’d worked on an oilrig somewhere foreign, making his way home across Europe, writing the odd letter as he went.

  ‘I miss him.’ Her mum sobbed once again.

  Me too… Jacks tentatively placed her arms around the thin shoulders and pulled her mum towards her. Cuddling this woman, even in her hour of need, still felt alien and awkward and was in some ways harder than giving her more practical attention, cleaning and tending, which could be classed as medical, necessary. ‘Sssshhh…’ she cooed as her mum clung to her arm. It would twist the heart of any onlooker, seeing this frail old lady so broken and confused. But Jacks was not any onlooker. She had a filter of memories to wade through, memories that were hard to remove and that complicated every interaction with her mum.

  She remembered being small and listening to her dad come home from work, followed by the sound of her mum shouting and then crying. It made her tummy flip, not wanting her mummy to cry, not wanting to feel frightened just before she fell asleep. Her dad would come into her room to tuck her in as he always did, always putting her first. He’d bend low and kiss her forehead, Jacks smelling his familiar scent of beer, cigarettes and his favoured musk-based aftershave.

  ‘Sweet dreams, my little Dolly Daydream.’ He’d then creep backwards from the room and she’d hear the creak of the stairs as he went downstairs.

  The odd word of her parents’ rows used to float up the stairs. ‘This is unbearable… I just can’t cope… You have made this situation and it’s unfair. I’ve never met anyone so selfish!’ She wished they would stop.

  Jacks rocked her mum back and forth, trying to put the memories from her mind. She often wondered why her mum had felt the need to be so sharp, judgemental. Her anger seemed to come in bursts, often followed by bright smiles and acts of kindness intended to wipe the slate clean. A sneering laugh at what she considered to be a minor achievement of her husband’s could be countered by an apple pie, freshly baked for tea. A sharp dig in the ribs as Don leant in for a cuddle or a kiss was made better by the knitting of a scarf and matching hat, delivered with a wide smile. And as far as Jacks could see, these peace offerings did the trick. Her dad would beam and nod, as if grateful for his wife’s benevolence, the status quo restored. If only Jacks could find it that easy to forget.

  The front doorbell rang. ‘Back in a sec, Mum. There’s someone at the door.’

  Jacks released her gently and trod the stairs, only to see that Martha had abandoned her studies and beaten her to it. She was standing at the open front door. Jacks hovered halfway down and stared at her daughter, watching her in profile. She felt her stomach sink. Call it a mother’s intuition, but though Jacks observed her for no more than five seconds, what she saw filled her with fear.

  ‘Steph said you weren’t coming out?’ The boy spoke with a strong Weston accent. He was gripping a motorbike helmet in his hand and let it bounce against his thigh. He was broad and tall, taller than Pete, slim, wearing jeans and a fitted grey T-shirt that hugged his toned physique. His glossy straight hair sat on his shoulders, his fringe partially obscuring his right eye. He sounded assured, comfortable. This clearly wasn’t the first time they had met.

  ‘S’right.’ Martha twisted her legs as she nodded with her head tilted to one side and her mouth breaking into a smile. They stared at each other during the silent pauses as if they carried a secret.

  Jacks heard his easy laugh from the other side of the step, a laugh full of meaning, anticipation and happiness. She didn’t know who he was, but she instantly hated the way Martha looked at him, disliked the shy, coquettish slant to her daughter’s head as her eyes gazed up at him through voluminous lashes, her lips pouting and her gentle blush screaming out, ‘Like me! Love me!’ Jacks wanted to slam the door shut, take her daughter’s head in her hands and twist her face away from him, screaming, ‘Not him! No! Not anyone from here! You need to wait! Wait for that boy you will meet at university who will be smart and well read, someone who will become a professional and who will take you to the south of France on a camping holiday and who will buy you a conservatory!’ Instead, she smiled, tripped down the stairs and stared at the boy in the leather jacket with the long hair and perfect teeth who stood on the front-door mat.

  ‘Hello there!’

  The boy raised his hand in a confident wave and Martha rolled her eyes as if apologising to him.

  Jacks ignored her daughter and stepped closer to them. ‘Nice to meet you, but I’m afraid we’re all about to have tea, otherwise I’d invite you in.’

  ‘Oh, no worries, Mrs D, I was off now anyway, just wanted to see Martha.’

  ‘And now you have.’

  Martha smiled as she bit her bottom lip.

  Jacks wasn’t sure she liked being called Mrs D, but she had to admit the boy had charm.

  ‘Later,’ Martha mumbled as a blush rose up her cheek. When the door closed behind him, Martha threw a pointed look at her mum, as if daring her to say anything as she flounced up the stairs, a small smile playing around her mouth.

  Jacks placed the bowl of chilli in the middle of the table and the saucepan of disgustingly overcooked rice next to that.

  ‘Let me get you some tea.’ She lifted Ida’s plate and placed a small mound of rice on it with a scoop of chilli, not too much. ‘There we go, Mum. Don’t worry, it’s not too hot.’ She smiled, trying to pre-empt any shouts about being scalded.

  ‘Do you want to hear my joke?’ Jonty sat up straight, wiggling his bottom on the chair in anticipation.

  ‘Oh yes, I love a joke!’ Jacks nodded as she dished up for Pete and placed his food in front of him.

  ‘I don’t like kidney beans!’ Martha commented as she gripped her fork.

  ‘Just pick them out.’ Jacks sighed as she put the plate of chilli in front of her daughter.

  ‘Are you ready for my joke, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, sorry, Jonty. Go ahead. I’m listening.’ She loaded up her mum’s spoon and helped her guide it to her mouth.

  ‘There’s too many to pick out, they make me feel sick. Can I just eat the rice?’ Martha prodded the gelatinous lumps with her lip curled.

 
‘For God’s sake, Martha!’ Pete shouted as flecks of rice fell from his lips. ‘Firstly, your mother’s cooked it for you, so just eat it. And secondly, your brother’s trying to speak!’

  ‘Can’t I just have some toast?’ Martha whined.

  ‘No!’ Jacks and Pete shouted in unison.

  ‘Can I become a vegetarian? Then you can’t make me eat this!’

  They ignored her.

  ‘Go ahead, Jont.’ Jacks nodded. She watched as her little boy took a deep breath.

  ‘What happens in space when they want to have a party?’ He beamed.

  ‘Don’t know!’ she and Pete chorused.

  ‘They planet!’ he shouted.

  ‘Ah, very good!’ Jacks chortled.

  Martha winced and placed her head in her hands. ‘That’s bad, Jonty. You are talking out of Uranus!’ She grinned.

  ‘Oh, please!’ Pete sighed. ‘Eat your chilli, Martha. I can tell the moon has eaten all his tea up tonight because he’s full!’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ Both kids groaned.

  ‘And you’re certainly not getting pudding,’ Jacks added sternly. ‘Although if you are good, I might fetch you a Mars Bar!’

  All four laughed, eagerly trying to think of the next joke.

  It was Martha who came up trumps as Jacks fed her mum her next mouthful. ‘I might not eat my chilli actually. In fact I’m thinking of trying that new restaurant they’ve built on the moon, but I’ve heard it lacks atmosphere!’

  Jonty wheezed with laughter and Pete laughed to see his son so happy.

  ‘Cracking!’ Jacks guffawed loudly. ‘Brilliant, you lot!’

  All four were brought back down to earth by Ida’s sudden loud sniffing. Her distress was evident.

  ‘Oh, Nan! What’s the matter?’ Martha was sweet, leaning towards her nan, her voice soft.

  ‘What’s up, Mum?’ Jacks placed her hand on Ida’s arm.

  ‘I need to find something, but I don’t know where to start. I need some help!’

  And just like that the joy was sucked from the room and everyone finished their meals in silence, broken only by the sound of Ida’s sobbing between mouthfuls of brown chilli that dribbled down her chin.

  Jacks kissed Jonty’s forehead and snapped off his bedside lamp.

  ‘Why does Nan get so upset?’ he whispered.

  ‘Because she’s confused, love. She feels sad and she doesn’t really know why. Sometimes she thinks she’s young again, waiting for Grandad to come home. Other times I think she’s sad because she realises he’s gone and she misses him.’

  ‘I miss him.’ Jonty pulled the duvet up to his nose.

  ‘Me too.’

  ‘He’d have liked my jokes, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Oh!’ Jacks shook her head. ‘He would have loved them!’ She watched as Jonty turned onto his side and pushed his face against the wall, cocooned in his Batman duvet, snug as a bug.

  She made her way over to Martha’s side of the room and ran her palm over her daughter’s beautiful thick blonde hair, which in a certain light had a glint of ginger streaked through it. ‘Night night, love.’

  ‘Night, Mum.’

  Jacks stood, hesitantly, and pointed at the book in Martha’s hand. ‘Not too late, now.’ She knew Martha sometimes read until the early hours.

  Martha nodded.

  ‘He seemed like a nice boy, the one that knocked for you earlier?’

  ‘Mmm…’ Martha’s face split into a grin. It was almost automatic.

  ‘Do you know him from school?’

  ‘No. He left a couple of years ago. He works with cars and stuff.’

  ‘Oh, right. And is he a friend of Steph’s?’ She tried to sound casual.

  ‘No, he’s a friend of mine.’ Martha raised her arms over her head on the pillow and sighed.

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘God, Mum, what is this, twenty questions?’

  ‘No, no. Just haven’t seen him before and I’m interested in your mates – which is a good thing, some parents take no interest at all.’ Jacks tried to appear nonchalant as she folded a T-shirt, retrieved from the floor.

  ‘How do I get parents like that? Sounds quite nice!’

  ‘Ha ha!’ Jacks threw the T-shirt at her daughter.

  ‘His name is Gideon Parks. He’s twenty. And he is really nice and clever. He works with cars, but he’s very artistic too. He’s got great plans.’ Martha blushed.

  ‘Well, it’s nice to have friends to hang out with before you go off to uni and make new ones. Definitely.’ Jacks couldn’t help but reinforce the idea that this wasn’t her life; her life was what would happen when she left this place. Like him, like Sven, who went away and never came back.

  ‘Sweet dreams, darlings,’ Jacks whispered as she backed out of the room and closed the bedroom door.

  Jacks tidied the kitchen, wiped down the surfaces and washed up the remaining pots and plates, then popped a wash load into the machine before climbing the stairs to bed. Pete was already propped up on his pillows, reading a tatty motorbike magazine in his vest and pyjama bottoms.

  ‘Tell you what, Jacks, seven grand buys you a very nice bike.’ He winked.

  ‘That’s a great idea – let’s blow our savings on a motorbike. It’ll give us the space we need and solve all our problems. Maybe we can balance on its saddle at meal times, or Jonty can sleep on the petrol tank and give Martha her room back!’ She added a jokey brightness to her voice but couldn’t avoid noticing the twist of disappointment to his mouth.

  Jacks climbed beneath the duvet and let her tired muscles sink into their old mattress. Her eyes roved over the yellow roses on the wallpaper that she had liked when it went up over fifteen years ago. Martha had been a toddler and she and Pete had laughed as they got to grips with the wallpaper paste and long, fiddly strips of paper in the confined space. Everything had made them laugh back then.

  ‘You going to read for a bit, love?’ Pete asked over the top of his magazine.

  ‘No. I’ve left my glasses downstairs and I can’t be bothered to go and get them.’

  ‘Do you want me to go?’

  She smiled at her husband. ‘No. But thank you. I quite like the fuzzy world without my goggles. It definitely has its advantages. When I see my face without glasses, I don’t look too bad, not exactly dewy and glowing, but, you know, not as bad as some. The thing is I sometimes forget I’m not sixteen any more. I look in the mirror and get the shock of my life at the face staring back at me. I’ve definitely got the beginnings of a tash and when I crinkle up my eyes, they look really liney.’

  Pete snorted his laughter. ‘When anyone crinkles up their eyes they look really liney! You look lovely to me, Jacks. I don’t know why you worry about what you look like or why you bother with that face cream and stuff.’

  ‘It’s to try and turn back the clock!’ She jutted her chin and stroked upwards.

  ‘Don’t know why you’d want to turn back the clock and anyway, cream’s not the answer, you’d need plastic surgery.’

  ‘Well, thanks for that! Are you saying I should go under the knife?’ She sat up, resting on her elbows.

  ‘No!’ He laughed. ‘I’m just saying that all those potions are a waste of time.’

  ‘Why would I go to the trouble of plastic surgery, Pete, even if I could afford it, when all I have to do to look better is remove my glasses and I’m back to fuzzy perfection!’

  ‘You’re mad, you are.’ He leant over and kissed her head before straightening quickly. ‘Ooh, my bloody back! I’ll tell you what, I’m getting a bit old for this landscaping lark. I try to keep up with the young lads on the site, but I get slower every year.’

  ‘Blimey, you’re only thirty-six, you’re in your prime!’ She laughed.

  ‘Yep, that’s what they tell me. Just wish someone would tell my back.’ He paused. ‘I am going to have a think about things though, Jacks, going to look at our options.’

  ‘What’s the plan, Pete? What can we do?’ She swallow
ed.

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t know yet. Something’ll come up. You’ll see. Things have a funny way of working out.’

  She nodded sadly. He’d been saying that since they were in their teens.

  Jacks placed her head on the pillow and closed her eyes. She thought about how she lay next to her man night after night largely without feeling the slightest flicker of desire. She liked him, loved him of course, but it was as if they had turned a corner, waved goodbye to that aspect of life, become so comfortable in their routine that anything spontaneous, sex included, didn’t even figure. She occasionally considered how she might initiate it, assuming she could summon the energy, and couldn’t. If anything, she was embarrassed to touch him sexually, it had been so long. It saddened her. An image of Sven filled her head. She wondered whether, if it were him she lay next to every night, she would have been happy to wave goodbye to her libido without putting up a fight. She squashed the thought instantly.

  ‘I love you, Pete.’ She did that regularly – uttered this cure-all to dampen disloyal thoughts.

  ‘I know.’ He patted her hip under the covers.

  Jacks sighed and felt her shoulders sink into the mattress. She was tired. Her eyelids fell in slow blinks that lasted longer and longer until finally they closed. One, two, three seconds later, her breath was even, her mouth slightly open. And then the bell rang from across the hall, rousing her from sleep and pulling her from the warm dip in the mattress where she yearned to stay.

  Jacks fumbled with her dressing gown. ‘Coming, Mum,’ she said, trying to get the volume right, loud enough to reassure her mum but not so loud as to wake the kids. Her fist hit a wall of fabric as her arm struggled to find the armhole on the dark landing.

  She creaked open her mum’s bedroom door. The nightlight picked out her silhouette against the headboard.

  ‘You’d better put the shower on!’ Ida spoke firmly, lucidly issuing her instruction.

  Jacks approached the bed and her nose wrinkled. Pulling the bedspread down, she blinked away the tears. ‘Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.’ She eased her mum into a sitting position.

  ‘Mu-um? Can you get me a drink of water?’ Jonty’s voice growled in the darkness.