‘Mum! Mum!’ Uncharacteristically she was running, her hair flying loose in the rain and her school bag in her hand, decorum and poise thrown out of the window.
‘Slow down! Whatever’s the matter? Why are you home at lunchtime?’ Jacks watched as Martha bent over and rested on the wall.
‘Oh my God, Mum!’ she managed between breaths.
‘What is it, love? Take deep breaths and tell me.’ Jacks was starting to feel the slight swell of panic. ‘Is Jonty all right? Where is he?’ Jacks scanned the street as her heart pounded.
‘He’s fine.’ Martha pointed to the street behind her. ‘I told him you’d collect him like we agreed at the usual time.’
‘Right, good. So what’s going on, Martha?’
‘I got a text this morning to say that something had changed on my UCAS application!’
‘Okay.’ Jacks stared at her daughter. She didn’t have a clue what that meant, but at least it sounded like something administrative and not an emergency. Her muscles relaxed.
‘I’ve been going nuts. I couldn’t log on until after my lessons finished, so I spent the whole morning just wondering what had happened. Then I managed to go online just now and…’ She swallowed and exhaled.
‘What? Tell me?’ Please be good news, please…
Martha stood straight and looked her mum in the eye. ‘I got an offer from Warwick! Three As!’
‘Oh, Martha! Oh God! That’s amazing! I’m so proud of you.’ Jacks couldn’t hide her delight. This was happening, this was really happening!
‘And you know what, Mum? I can so get three As!’
‘Of course you can, you can do anything you set your mind to.’ Jacks screamed and jumped up and down. She grabbed her daughter by the shoulders and the two pogoed on the spot together.
‘I got an offer, Mum! I can’t believe it! Some people haven’t even got their applications in yet and I’ve already got an offer!’
‘That’s because you are brilliant and they all want you.’ She hugged her girl. ‘This is wonderful, wonderful!’
‘Everything all right, Jacks?’ Ivor opened his gate and searched in his pocket for his key. It wasn’t unusual for him or Pete to come home when the weather was this awful. Pete called it a cricket day – rain stopped play.
‘Yes! Oh yes, Ivor. Martha’s just got an offer from Warwick University. She’s going to be a lawyer.’ As she spoke the words out loud, her tears sprang.
‘Well, I’ve got to get the grades first!’ Martha laughed.
‘Oh, she will.’ Jacks wiped her tears. ‘I’m so proud!’
‘You should be! Well done, Martha.’ Ivor smiled.
Martha shrugged her shoulders as they made their way inside, a little awkward at receiving so much praise.
‘What do you fancy for tea tonight? I was going to do chicken, but that’ll keep. Anything you want, you name it and I’ll go get it for you!’
‘Pizza?’ Martha didn’t have to think twice.
‘Pizza it is. Oooh, I know, we can have a little celebration drink with our food.’ Jacks reached into the cupboard under the stairs and retrieved the bottle of Buck’s Fizz that was left over from the previous Christmas. She wiped the dust from the neck. ‘I’ll stick this in the fridge for later!’
Martha ran up the stairs while Jacks made room in the fridge for the bottle. The bubble of excitement in her stomach filled her completely. This was it! Martha was on her way.
Pete coughed and banged the table with his fork. Ida jumped and clutched the front of her cardigan. Jacks patted her arm.
‘Well, we have a lot to celebrate tonight.’ Pete raised the glass of Buck’s Fizz. ‘Well done, Martha! You should be very pleased with yourself, my girl!’
Jacks nodded and sipped the drink, which tickled her nose. She gave a small giggle. This was a good day. Jonty took a large bite of his pizza and was trying to get a second bite in before he had finished chewing the last mouthful. Pizza was a rare treat. Jacks laughed again.
‘You are such a lightweight.’ Pete grinned at his wife. ‘Couple of sips and you’re anybody’s!’ He winked.
‘When Martha goes to Warwick, can I move to her bed?’ Jonty asked, trying to keep his food inside his mouth.
‘Oi! I’m not gone yet!’ Martha shouted in mock protest.
‘I know, but can I?’ Jonty asked again, wide eyed, swallowing, kicking his legs back and forth against the chair.
‘You can do what you like, Jont. I’ll have my own room in halls and I’ll be able to shout and play my music loudly without fear of waking you up!’
‘Blimey, girl, it would have to be pretty loud to wake him up all the way from there!’ Pete laughed.
‘And can I have a sleepover when she’s gone?’ Jonty shouted.
‘Yes, you can.’ Jacks smiled at her son, saddened by his simple request, which had been out of the question for the last couple of years.
‘Yeeeeees!’ he screamed, beyond excited.
‘Hang on, everyone.’ Martha raised her hands. ‘I’d like you to miss me a little bit!’
‘Oh, Martha!’ Jacks shouted, as Pete simultaneously growled, ‘Darlin’, it’ll break my heart to have you go away.’
‘So noisy!’ Ida yelled.
Jacks patted her arm again. ‘It’s okay, Mum, we are just having a little party. Martha has had some really great news today. She’s going to be a lawyer!’
‘Will you have a star-shaped badge and a gun?’ Jonty asked.
‘That’s a sheriff not a lawyer, you doughnut!’ Martha laughed.
‘Don’t call your brother a doughnut.’ Jacks tutted through her giggles.
Ida pushed her plate away and tried to stand.
‘What’s the matter, Mum? You want to go upstairs?’
Ida nodded. Jacks placed her glass on the table and looked round at her family. ‘You guys carry on without me. Don’t let your tea go cold. I’ll be back in a jiff.’
She walked around the table and, placing her arm under her mother’s elbow, helped Ida stand before guiding her towards the stair lift.
As she tucked her mum under the covers in her bedroom, she thought about the momentous day.
‘It’s such great news, Mum. Martha’s going to go to Warwick University! She’s the first person in either family to go to university, isn’t that something?’
Ida ignored her. Her mouth moved as though she was mid conversation, her eyes smiling at the imaginary person with whom she conversed. Jacks watched the changes in her expression and wondered who she was chatting to. She felt a wave of sorrow wash over her. Despite their fractured relationship, she was sad that her mum had disappeared and that in her place was this shell of a lady who seemed to exist in a parallel universe, dancing to her own tune. Jacks thought how lovely it would be to have one of those mums who got their hair done, went on cruises, read books and had a jolly old time with her ageing buddies. Although, truth be told, Ida had never been like that, even before she came under the icy grip of dementia. Jacks never saw herself as being in any way similar to her mum, couldn’t imagine becoming her mother, and yet already she was aware that she sometimes caused her own children acute embarrassment, and phrases she had once sworn she’d never use now tripped from her mouth with alarming regularity.
‘What do you think, Mum? Do you think that maybe history is on a loop? I bloody hope not. My girl, unlike yours, is heading for the top and that’s really something, isn’t it?’
‘My… my…’ Ida stuttered, tapping her fingers and frantically searching her memory bank for the word that evaded her.
‘Letter?’ Jacks helped her out. ‘Not arrived yet. But don’t worry, we are all keeping an eye out for it.’
By the time Jacks came back downstairs, tea was over. The kids were in the front room and Pete was reading the Bristol Post at the table. Jacks started to gather the dirty plates and empty glasses, her own included. Someone had necked the last of her drink.
‘I was just saying to Mum, what about that girl o
f ours, eh?’
Pete closed the paper. ‘I know. It’s fantastic! Can you believe it, our little Martha, a lawyer?’
‘Yes I can!’ Jacks grinned as she scraped the leftover scraps of pizza into the food recycling bin. ‘I bet she’ll be tough, with a fearsome reputation. I always knew she’d do something amazing.’
Pete laughed. ‘Yes you did.’
‘How are we going to afford it, Pete?’ She paused from her chores, hating being the one to raise the ugly topic.
‘Well, her student loan will help out and I reckon we can kiss goodbye to our motorbike!’
‘Our conservatory, you mean?’
‘Ha!’ He chuckled. ‘You win! We will give up our imaginary conservatory instead of our make-believe motorbike.’
She lowered the dishes into the sink full of suds.
‘I can always get a second job.’ His face was suddenly serious.
‘Or I could get a job.’ Jacks was conscious of having not contributed financially since she gave up her shifts at the bank to look after her mum full time.
‘That wouldn’t really work, Jacks. What we’d have to pay for care for Ida would be more than you could earn. Plus remember what happened last time we had that home help.’
Ida had shrieked and thrashed as the stranger had tried to get her changed. Jacks had hated seeing her like that and had vowed never to put her mum through that again.
‘Something’ll come up,’ Pete said. ‘You’ll see. Our little nest-egg will give us some breathing space.’
Jacks nodded, hoping he was right.
‘Tell you what, why don’t I get that bottle of Asti I’ve got hidden in the shed and you and me can have a glass or two? We can re-create the dancefloor at Mr B’s. We are celebrating, after all. You can even light one of your stinky candles.’ He smiled.
‘They’re scented, not stinky!’ She laughed.
‘Well, that’s a matter of opinion!’
Jacks bent forward to kiss her man, both of them enjoying the rare moment of closeness, when the bell rang loudly.
‘Nan’s ringing!’ the kids yelled from the front room.
Jacks wiped her hands on the tea towel and looked at her husband. ‘See you in a bit,’ she said and made her way upstairs.
After she finally got Ida off to sleep, she changed into her PJs and slipped under the duvet beside Pete, who was snoring lightly. She switched off her bedside lamp, which he had left on for her, and thought about Sven. As she drifted towards sleep, she wondered what he looked like now. She imagined herself arriving at a huge building in London. It was the Boat Show and he was striding through the crowds, coming towards her as if she was the only person in the world. ‘Look at you! Oh my God, you look so young! Come with me!’ he’d say. ‘I’ve been missing you since the day I left!’ And off she’d go, her hand in his, towards a wooden boat which would take her far, far away to the Lake of Dreams, where they would look up at the stars as they fell asleep.
Jacks’ eyelids fluttered open briefly and she sighed. She just had time to wonder idly whether she and Pete would ever get round to replacing their mismatched lampshade, before sleep overcame her for real.
10
Nineteen Years Earlier
Jacks clipped the seatbelt together and pulled it slack, hating the way it bit across her shoulder.
‘All buckled up?’ her dad asked, as he did every time she got in their plum-coloured Ford Escort, his pride and joy. He adjusted the rear-view mirror.
Jacks nodded back at him, her expression sour. She did not want to be spending her precious Sunday with her parents, especially not going to visit Aunty Joan, who lived in Bristol and could only talk about what she had eaten and what she was planning on eating and how much all the said food cost.
‘Would you like a sucking sweet?’ Her mum opened the tin of hard-boiled sweets that sat in a delicate sweet mound of icing sugar and pushed it through the gap between the front seats.
Jacks shook her head. She looked at her mum and dad and thought, not for the first time, that they seemed old. She wondered what it must be like to have young, trendy parents who didn’t wear driving gloves and carry sucking sweets in their Maggie Thatcher-style handbag. Parents who didn’t say, ‘I don’t know how you can listen to that horrible booming music!’ and who knew the name of Take That’s lead singer and didn’t confuse it with Ken Barlow from Coronation Street.
Her dad, as ever, drove too slowly for her liking along the back roads, to avoid the motorway.
‘I saw Mrs Davies in the week.’ Ida tilted her head to the right so Jacks could hear without her having to turn all the way round. ‘She’s a nice lady, has a hard time with no husband.’
Jacks said nothing but reread the paragraph in her textbook about the difference between a limited company and a sole trader. Boring.
‘Mind you, she’s got Peter and he’s a love.’
Jacks looked up. It had taken less than five minutes since getting into the car to get on to the subject of Peter Davies. ‘Sven’s dad has got us access to the Wills Tower in Bristol – we’re getting a guided tour next Saturday. Should be a great view from the top.’
‘Well, maybe we should invite Sven and his mum over for a bit of tea one night.’ Ida gave her husband a sideways look.
Jacks felt her intestines shrink. Sven had called her mum and dad ‘provincial’. She’d had to look it up and the definition now sat at the front of her mind: small-town, uneducated, unsophisticated, narrow-minded. He was right; they were all of those things.
‘Oh no! Mum! Don’t do that. I’d rather have Pete round!’
‘But I thought you didn’t like him?’ her dad flashed.
‘I just don’t like him like him. And it’s embarrassing. I have to see him at school and he’d only give people the wrong impression, when he’s not going on about crappy football.’ She slid further down the seat and threw her head back.
‘You could do a lot worse than go out with a footballer, Jackie! They have big houses and lots of foreign holidays.’
Jacks sighed and closed her eyes. ‘Sven has already had lots of foreign holidays and he’s never kicked a ball in his life.’ She smiled at the thought of him.
‘Oh well, I might have guessed that Mr Been There Done That would be able to top-trump anything I might come up with! There’s something about him, Jackie… I remember when he knocked for you and I invited him in and he said, “Thanks, but I’ll be strolling around the grounds,” and he went and stood on your dad’s lawn! It was rude. Peter would have come in, had a cuppa.’
‘Oh God! Enough with shining Pete Davies’ halo! The main difference between him and Sven is that I really like Sven. Happy now?’
‘It’s all you talk about now, that boy,’ her mum commented.
‘Sven!’ Jacks corrected. He was so much more than just ‘that boy’.
‘Why can’t you do anything ordinary, Jackie?’ Ida tutted. ‘Why can’t you just go with the flow and go out with a nice local boy and make life easy for yourself?’
‘A local boy? So it’s because he’s foreign you don’t like him? And how would that make life easier?’
‘That’s not what your mum means,’ her dad interjected.
‘Actually it is what I mean.’ Ida now turned to look at her daughter full in the face. ‘You always seem to pick the path that’s hardest to navigate, the one that’s most dangerous, unconventional…’
‘That’s me, choosing to go out with an unconventional foreigner!’ Jacks smirked, thinking of Sven’s love of astronomy and lack of street cred.
‘Why can’t you just accept that maybe we might know what’s best for you? That maybe we have your best interests at heart?’ Ida pushed.
Jacks laughed. They didn’t even know her, not really, let alone what was best for her.
‘It’s not funny, Jackie! I mean it. It’s like nothing we do or say is good enough. Peter Davies is a lovely boy, a lovely, lovely boy, but I know that as we’ve suggested him, he’ll be off lim
its. It’s like you do things just to spite me, to push me away. Sometimes you can be selfish and selfish people are very hard to love.’ Ida threw a pointed look at her husband.
Jacks sat in stunned silence. Shocked by her mum’s words, watching the shrubs pass by as her dad sped up a little. She swallowed the hard ball of tears that formed in her throat. She had no idea that her mum found it hard to love her.
11
Jacks indicated and steered her little Skoda into the lay-by outside school.
‘Have a great day, darling.’ She smiled at her daughter, bundled up in her thick scarf, necessary on this frosty morning. They were all still buoyed up by her wonderful news.
Martha gripped the door handle but hesitated and turned towards her mum. ‘Can I ask you something?’
‘Of course.’ Jacks twisted round to face her.
‘Do you ever worry that you will end up like Nan?’
‘With dementia, you mean?’
Martha nodded.
Jacks sighed. ‘Well, my memory is shot – at least once a day I go upstairs, get to the top step and have absolutely no idea why I am up there. I pause, hang on to the wall and go through a list. Do I need the loo? Have I come to fetch laundry? Is it your nan? Often, after a minute, I walk back down, and I swear to God, the moment my foot touches the floor after the last step, it comes to me. “Bleach the loo!” Or, “Strip Jonty’s bed!” I shout it out like a bingo win, it makes me so happy that I’ve remembered.’
‘I’ve heard you do that!’ Martha shook her head.
Jacks laughed. ‘I’ve talked about it with a few of my mates and they do it too. I don’t let it worry me. I’m very different to Nan. I have a busy life and a busy family. I was thinking about it only last night. Before she got ill, Nan didn’t really do anything apart from sit in her chair and watch telly. I don’t think that helps. I think you can drive yourself nuts worrying about something that might never happen and, worse-case scenario, if it does, then I won’t know too much about it anyway.’
‘I’d hate to get like that – she’s just like a big baby. It’s like her life has been wiped out. I think it’s cruel.’ Martha’s eyes brimmed.
Perfect Daughter Page 8
