by Natasha West
I would simply have to brace myself for whatever the afternoon was going to throw at me. And I really had no idea of what that might include. I didn’t know these people. Would they shout? Denounce their daughter? Throw us both of out their home? They were dramatic things to consider but I wanted to fortify myself for the worst.
I thought back to my own coming out at sixteen. My mother hadn’t seemed too shocked. ‘Well, I did begin to wonder why I never saw you with any boys. And I know it’s not for their lack of interest in you.’ And that was true, there had been a lot of boys who had attempted to get my attention. But I wasn’t the type of girl who’d gone through a figuring-it-out phase. I’d known from the start which way the wind blew. I liked girls. Case closed.
That conversation with my father had never happened. Because he wasn’t there for it to happen. He left when I was thirteen, the long inevitable conclusion to his marriage, after breaking my mother’s heart many times over with numerous affairs. He didn’t leave her for anyone specific. He just left us when he’d had enough of having to look my mother in the eye and lie to her. And he tried to do the weekend dad thing for a while but it didn’t last.
I remembered the last time I saw him.
I was fourteen and still in the thick of an awkward phase. So on top of living in a freshly fractured home, my body was growing in ways that wouldn’t look good for two more years. My nose was still a little too big for my face, my breasts were underdeveloped for my long frame, and my hair was too thick to manage. And I didn’t even have the comfort of knowing that it would end.
My mother said to wait and see, that it would all come out alright, but I never believed her. It was easy for her to tell me I’d be a good looking girl in the long run, she was a slight beauty with fine dark blonde hair that always looked just so. I was a gawky, skinny girl with hair that kept breaking brushes. The awkward phase did pass, of course, leaving me with plenty of gifts I’ve been grateful for in my adult life. And now I wish I’d simply trusted my mother. After all, she’d never lied to me.
But anyway, I digress.
It was two in the afternoon and my father had been due to pick me up twenty minutes earlier but he was characteristically late. Eventually, he arrived in his beautiful classic car that drank petrol greedily and made a rattle noise when it hit fifty miles per hour. But he loved the thing, and would never consider trading it in for something more family friendly in all the years he was with my mother. Perhaps that should have told her something.
Then again, just like my father’s car, an outwardly beautiful object hides the broken parts better. And my father was a handsome beast. My thick dark hair came from him but he wore it much better. My nose was his but on his profile, it was strong and striking.
I’d first began to notice the affect my father had on women when I overheard some girls at school talking about him in a way that made me deeply uncomfortable. They used words like ‘Sexy’ and ‘Hunky’. I wanted to hand out one cheek slaps apiece to every single girl that said those words about my dad, but I didn’t. I just listened instead, morbidly fascinated. It was the first time anyone had shone a light on something that turned out to be quite a big problem down the line. Women liked my father and he liked a good number of them, as it turned out. But I wouldn’t know that until around the time he left.
Again, I find myself unable to focus on this memory without getting dragged into others. But I circle back around to it, to a day that sticks in my mind like a knife. Sharp and shiny and wounding.
He arrived in his beautiful wreck of a car to pick me up, for what turned out to be the last time. I don’t know if he knew that, but I certainly didn’t. Because (and this is a source of shame when I think of it now) despite what he’d done to my mother, I loved him like no one else.
Because, besides being a womaniser, he was many, many other things. A chef of great sandwiches, a maker of jokes that were usually funny but occasionally pant-wettingly hilarious, a terrible player of chess but a brilliant player of poker, a master of stare-out competitions, an occasional poet, an erratic but exciting driver, an expert on a few subjects but semi-knowledgeable on almost everything, an enthusiastic but uncoordinated dancer, an indiscriminate lover of dogs, a planner of breathtakingly effective practical jokes. He was charming, complicated, mostly kind, occasionally callous but never knowingly cruel. And he loved me. Or I thought he did.
And then, on the day in question, we drove to a diner in town for enormous milkshakes. And I knew something was up. My father was a natural talker, which I’d never minded because he was rarely boring. But today he was quiet.
‘Are you alright, Dad?’ I asked him.
‘Yes. Drink up, we’re going ice skating after this.’
We’d never been ice skating before. Even my semi-naïve brain heard an alarm go off.
‘But I don’t know how to skate’ I complained.
‘So you’ll learn.’
‘What if I fall?’
‘You get up’ he said, irritation creeping into his voice.
‘But I might hurt myself-’
‘Jules, can you just’ he snapped, before taking a breath. ‘I wanted to do something special today. Can you just enjoy it?’
I knew then that something was seriously wrong.
‘Dad, what’s going on?’
He looked into his milkshake and I saw that there was something bad about to happen. He’d had the same look eight months ago, when he’d left my mother.
‘Fair enough, Jules. I could never fool you, could I? I’m moving. Up north. For a job. That’s why I wanted to make today special. We might not see each other for a little bit.’
I felt like I’d been kicked in the stomach.
‘But…’
‘We’ll still see each other. Just not as often.’
‘But why are you going? I don’t understand.’
‘I just told you. I’ve got a new job, selling cars up north. It’s better commission than here, more perks.’
‘But why do you have to do it somewhere else? Why can’t you get a better job here, if that’s what you want to do?’ I repeated, as though trying to understand something complicated. But it wasn’t complicated at all. He was leaving.
‘Jules’ he said gently. ‘It’s not a big deal. I’ll still be around.’
I pushed my milkshake away, untouched.
‘I want to go home.’
‘Jules, don’t be like that.’
‘I want to go home’ I insisted.
‘You’re mad at me?’
‘Yes’ I spat. ‘Because you keep leaving. And I don’t understand why.’
He didn’t say anything in response.
Needless to say, we never made it to the ice. He dropped me off at home, promising to write and call from his new place. And for a little while, he did. And then it dropped off.
I never saw him in person after the milkshake day. He simply unplugged himself from my life, easy as you please.
And now I had news of him again, for the first time in decades. And I didn’t see why I should rush to his bedside, not after all these years, years of nothing. Why did he deserve that? And more to the point, why did I?
‘Are you alright?’ Penny asked, breaking my thoughts.
‘Fine, why?’
‘Just… I don’t know. You look a bit brooding. You’re not worried about meeting my parents are you?’
‘No, not at all. I can handle it.’
‘OK’ Penny accepted, but I could tell she was suspicious. And she should be. But I wasn’t going to tell her about the situation with my father. Not with everything else Penny had to deal with today. It wouldn’t be fair.
‘Oh god’ Penny moaned as we passed the sign for a fast food restaurant.
‘What? You didn’t want to stop for a burger or something, did you?’
‘No. I couldn’t touch a thing right now anyway. But it means we’re about ten minutes from my house.’
‘Really? But we’re in the middle of n
owhere!’
‘That’s Pilldale. Not a whole lot of town.’
As warned, ten minutes later, we were pulling up in the tiny village of Pilldale, outside a large stone cottage with beautiful ivy growing up the walls. Penny’s childhood home. I wished I could have seen it under better circumstances. I would have loved to drink it in, this place that had created Penny. But it was not going to be that kind of day.
Penny sat for a moment, gathering herself. I decided to take one last punt at damage limitation.
‘Look, Penny…’
‘I know what you’re going to say, but please don’t. Just hold my hand, would you?’
So I closed my mouth and grabbed her hand. She squeezed it too tightly, but I didn’t complain. I just waited until she was ready to get out of the car.
It was happening. I was going to meet Penny’s parents.
Chapter Twelve
As I stood on the doorstep, I only thought about running off for a few seconds, which I think is to my credit. But as I glanced back at Julia, I knew that wasn’t an option. That was part of the reason I wanted her with me, to stop me from wimping out. I always wanted to be my best in her eyes. I hoped that desire would serve me well today. I needed that, to aspire to be the adult that Julia saw. Because I didn’t feel like an adult. I felt like a naughty child, facing the music after being caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
But one look at Julia and I was able to scrape together an ounce of courage. It was all I could muster and it would have to do. And it was enough to raise my hand and rap my knuckles on the old wooden door of my mum and dad’s house. It was after six, so they would both be in. In a small town, no one argued with such early closing times for a food shop. Thinking about it now, after a few years in a city, I was astonished they could get away with it. And if Tesco Metro ever decided to open in Pilldale, they would no longer be able to.
As I waited for someone to answer the door, I tried to come up with options for how I might deal with this. But my mind was blank. Because I had no idea how they were going to react and therefore I couldn’t plan a defense. My parents weren’t stupid people, but they were born and raised in this small town. They’d never been anywhere. That’s not to say they were ignorant. They were simply unworldly. I was about to find out just what that meant.
And it wasn’t only the girlfriend thing. This would be the second time that I had to explain that I wasn’t going to do what was assumed of me. I was my parent’s only child and they had a business (the village shop) that they had fully expected to pass on to me. So a few years ago, I had a similarly difficult conversation, telling them I wasn’t coming back to Pilldale after university. I wasn’t coming back to the life they had given me. And they’d been upset about it. They’d hidden it well, tried to be supportive, but I knew they were deeply disappointed by my choice.
And now I was going to do it to them again. I was going to tell them that what they’d imagined for me wasn’t what I wanted. And how on earth could they take it as anything other than a rejection? Of them, of their values, of their choices.
Footsteps sounded from behind the door and I knew this was it. I was going to have the talk. I was going to come out to them. Even if they knew the truth already, it felt no simpler.
The door opened and my dad looked at me in astonishment.
‘Penny! For crying out loud, what are you doing here? Did we know you were coming? I didn’t forget, did I?’
He grabbed me in a hug before I could get a word out, which wasn’t exactly the reception I’d been expecting. I’d imagined grimaces and tension. But my dad was just pleased to see me.
He looked over my shoulder and spotted Julia.
‘Oh, hello. Sorry, didn’t see you there…’ and then he trailed off as he noticed that mine and Julia’s hands were clasped together. Whoever he’d assumed her to be initially, he knew exactly who she was now.
‘Erm… Why don’t you both come in? I’ll get the kettle on. Your mother’s in the back garden. You should go and see her, say hello.’
The tone was hard to miss. My dad knew there was a blow up coming and he wasn’t going to be standing in the blast radius when it happened. He was going to stand behind the kettle, in place of sandbags. But that was him in a nutshell. He’d never liked confrontation. I wished I could talk to him for a few minutes before I headed outside, to get a sense of how he was feeling but he was already off, headed for the kitchen at a near sprint.
I looked back at Julia. ‘So that was my dad.’
‘Seemed nice’ she said evenly.
‘Yeah, he is. When he’s not hiding in the kitchen.’
‘People deal with stress in different ways’ she shrugged.
I rolled my eyes at her. ‘Please stop being so unbiased about everything. I’m sweating bullets and your calm façade is making me feel even crazier.’
She smiled. ‘I see. Yes, this is all really weird. I acknowledge it. Feel better?’
‘Much. Thank you.’
I began to walk down the hall, headed for the garden. I stopped at the back door, looking through the glass to see my mother bending over the roses, pruning like a madwoman. It’s not easy to look at a person’s back and know their mood. But I’ve been looking at my mother’s angry back since birth. I could pick it out from a mile away. And it was very much in evidence.
‘Just head on out’ my dad called from the kitchen as he filled the kettle noisily. ‘I’ll be right behind you!’
Yeah, right. As long as everyone’s voices remained at a certain decibel level, he would indeed be out in a few minutes, handing out cups of tea and offering biscuits. But if this went the way I thought it was going to, he might suddenly decide we’re out of milk and run out of the house. It had been known to happen.
I opened the door and walked out, Julia right behind me. But I dropped her hand. Now was probably not the time for PDAs.
‘Mum?’
My mother turned in surprise. ‘Oh, Penny, hello! You’ve decided to come for a visit? That’s a funny coincidence. I was just thinking about you.’
I couldn’t read her tone. She was keeping it flat. Which meant we weren’t going to launch into anything quite yet. There was going to be a slow build to the showdown. I wondered briefly if I should simply force the issue, address it head on. But I didn’t quite have the nerve, so I simply said ‘Hi Mum.’
‘So what’s inspired this, then?’
I suddenly realised that Julia was still standing next to the backdoor and that my mother hadn’t seen her yet. I turned.
‘I wanted you to meet someone’ I said, gesturing for Julia to come over. I saw my mother’s eyes widen as she took in Julia. It was such a blatant assessment; I was honestly embarrassed. But Julia took it in her stride, walking over and putting out a hand for my mum to shake.
‘Hello Mrs Stone. I’m Julia.’
My mum took the hand, her eyes still round with astonishment. I couldn’t figure out the source of it, precisely. My mum knew I had a girlfriend. And she probably knew that I knew it. So why was she goggling at Julia like this?
And then something that I’d somehow managed to completely forget clicked into place. Julia was nearly twice my age. Amidst the other things that I was worried about telling my mum, that had fallen off my radar.
But we were here and it was happening. If I could just keep my nerve for the next few minutes, everything would be out on the table. There be no need for any more lies to my parents. I liked the thought of that. I wasn’t naturally dishonest; I never had been. Having conversations with my parents where I had to omit at best and outright lie at worst had always left a sour taste in my mouth. However they reacted to all this, I could at least leave with that. I’d have myself back.
‘Mum, this is my girlfriend Julia’ I said, trying to sound nonchalant.
She finally managed to drag her gaze from Julia, back to me. ‘I see.’
There was an awkward silence that was gratefully broken by my dad poking his head out of th
e back door, no doubt unable to get a temperature read from behind the door. ‘I forgot to ask our guest if she takes sugar?’
Julia turned to him, saying confidently ‘No thanks. I’m sweet enough.’
My dad giggled. He actually giggled. Was it nerves? Or was it the infamous Julia effect? I didn’t care. I was just glad to see someone being nice to her.
‘Right you are, err…’
‘Julia’ she offered and he smiled, gratefully.
‘Julia. Okey dokey.’
And he disappeared again. I turned back to my mother, hoping her face might have softened a bit. But it was still maintaining an impenetrable neutrality.
‘So, Julia. How long have you and my daughter been…’ she waved a hand, no word she wanted to use being available.
I glanced at Julia, casting her a stricken look. There was a slightly complicated answer to that question, so I hoped that Julia would give the simplest answer she could. But what that answer could be, I actually didn’t know.
‘We’ve known each other a while, but it’s coming up to a year that we’ve been together.’
Thank god. A perfect answer.
My mother nodded. ‘Well, I’d like to say I’ve heard nice things but in all honesty, my daughter has never mentioned you.’
Julia shrugged, unfazed. It wasn’t as if that would be a surprise to her, if that’s what my mum had intended. ‘Well, I’m here now. I hope you don’t mind us dropping in on you like this? I realise a surprise houseguest is never ideal.’
‘Well…’ my mother said, the first chink in her armour appearing. I’d forgotten that Julia was good at this, reading people. She’d had my mother’s number from the off.
My mum had decided to take a passive aggressive approach to all this, while staying just the right side of polite. And as long as no one said anything confrontational, she’d have to stay there. And Julia had run with that, and was now going to walk her away from passive aggressiveness, toward fake niceness, probably in the hopes that we’d get to actual niceness given enough time. And mum had no choice but to follow, being that she’d set the path in the first place. It was clever.
