by Penny Kane
She leant against the kitchen counter and breathed deeply the aroma of the coffee. “Kevin. If my life really were imitating my book, then he would now be my lover. Kevin.” Polly shook her head. “That is wrong on so many levels. I watched him go through puberty!” She shuddered. Note to self: Never, ever write such trash again!
With the coffee made, Polly headed back to her reading chair. What was next? She realised with sadness the revelation that Sally’s son Bradley had failed Uni was next. Another note to self: Don’t give the characters names that are so close to my own family’s next time. She quickly read the next few paragraphs. There was a lot of drama and Bradley left to live in Wellington.
Polly’s stomach knotted. “Brendan wouldn’t go and live so far away. He talked about changing to study physics.” She fought back tears. “I shall have to convince him to stay on at Uni. He can’t give up now.” She thought about Brendan and Bradley and tried to imagine her son in the role she’d written for the character. Bradley moved to Wellington, started a rock band that sucked, and was always asking Sally for money. She certainly did not want that life for Brendan. She made up her mind; if it meant she had to give him every cent she earnt from the sales of her book to get him through Uni and give him a chance, then so be it. He was her only child and she would give him the best shot at life she possibly could.
With that decided, she gulped down some more coffee and read on. Apparently, she was to buy a swish apartment in Auckland City; well, Sally did that. A thought occurred to Polly. Was she in control of her own destiny or not? Were the decisions hers to make or not? What she really wanted was a little house in the country, if she was honest with herself. She’d spent all her life in the city and wanted some peace and quiet now.
Returning to the book, she smiled. Sally went to Europe and had a cruise in the Mediterranean. Polly giggled. “Now that’s something I’m quite content to allow to happen.”
Chapter Six
Brendan arrived the next morning with bags full of washing for Polly. Oh, joy! Some things never change! She was glad to see him and found it hard not to cry when he hugged her. Polly loaded up the washing machine with his now-stinky clothes while Brendan started breakfast. She loved it when he was home. No one ever cooked for her. Ok, so Brendan only really knew how to cook a full English breakfast, but at least that was something. They wouldn’t have lunch. Polly hoped they’d go out that afternoon, and then they planned to go to Clooney’s that evening. Polly smiled. She was glad Brendan was there for her.
Breakfast was a joyous, greasy plateful. Brendan created his usual. He’d run into the mall and popped into New World to stock up on the ingredients before coming over. However, he bought enough to feed a family of four.
He placed the over-filled plate in front of Polly and she laughed. “Am I supposed to eat all of this?”
Brendan snorted. “Eat what you can, Mum. I’ll have the rest.”
“On top of what you’ve already got on your plate, you mean?” Polly shook her head. The male stomach capacity never failed to astound her. She stared down at the plate and moved some things around with her knife to see what he’d given her. There was sausage, beans, bacon, black pudding, fried eggs, and tomatoes and mushrooms, as well as two slices of toast. Polly, despite being hungry, knew she could never finish it. But she also knew that somehow Brendan would polish off whatever she couldn’t. She had to admit that he was a good cook and made the best breakfast she’d ever tasted.
“What, better than Gran’s?” he asked her.
“Yes, Granny’s eggs were always swimming in oil.”
“Gross!”
She couldn’t help but laugh. Yes, her mother’s breakfasts were gross and Polly was put off by them for years until she got married and Steve wanted them. Then when Brendan was old enough to have what his daddy had, they became a Sunday morning regular. She was not surprised in the least that a cooked breakfast was just about the only meal that Brendan knew how to make.
Polly, as predicted, couldn’t make it through the entire plateful and so she pushed it across the table to Brendan, who unceremoniously dumped the contents onto his plate and handed hers back to her empty.
She laughed at him and shook her head. “I’d like to see you try and eat that much when you’re forty without needing larger trousers.”
“Nah, Mum. I’ve got hollow legs. Didn’t you know?”
She smiled at him; yes, he certainly was the best thing she’d ever created. She was so proud to be his mum. She got up, poured herself another cup of tea, and returned to the table. She had to tell him about the divorce, selling the house, and, of course, about Mr Tiggles. She waited until he’d finished eating, put the plates in the dishwasher, and had a fresh cup of tea before she began.
He sat quietly throughout and let her say it all. He hung his head when she told him about Mr Tiggles. She hadn’t expected to see him cry, but he did. She grabbed the Kleenex and passed him the box.
“Thanks, Mum.” He covered his face with a tissue and sobbed a little more. Mr Tiggles was theirs from a kitten and he’d been a beloved part of the family. Brendan blew his nose, chucked the tissue in the bin, and took another one. He stared at Polly. “You know that Dad’s not going to like it.”
“Which part?”
“Selling the house.”
Polly almost laughed. “Do you really think that with a baby on the way he’ll be able to keep up the mortgage on this place? I don’t think so.”
“I guess so, but he’ll be mad that you didn’t ask him first.”
“I’m just giving him as much respect as he’s given me.”
“Mum!”
“What? Am I supposed to take it?” She tried not to get cross.
“No, but don’t get nasty. It’s not like you.” He blew his nose again.
“It has to be sold and he’s not going to do it, is he?”
“I doubt it.”
“Somehow I think in his head this is all my fault.”
“Mum, that’s daft.”
“That’s how adulterous men are, son. They justify their actions by blaming the wife for their shortcomings.” She drank some of her tea. “Are you going to see him this weekend?”
“No.”
“He is your father.”
“Yeah, but he’s crapped all over my mother, knocked up her best friend, and shacked up with her, too!”
Despite the gravity of what Brendan said and his apparent anger, Polly couldn’t help but laugh.
“What?”
“Can I use that sentence in my next book?”
Brendan thought about what he said and smirked. “Yeah, if you like.” He swallowed some tea. “I don’t want to see him, Mum. Not right now. I’d only smack him in the face.”
“Bren!”
“Sorry, Mum. I’m mad at him. I can’t even begin to imagine what you’re going through.” He lowered his voice and hung his head. “Or what it was like to walk in on that.”
The image of that scene flashed into Polly’s mind and she welled up with tears. “Shall we get ready to go out?” she mumbled.
Brendan nodded. They rose and Polly headed to the bathroom to check her makeup, and then they left for a day out together.
* * * *
Polly couldn’t remember the last time that she had an entire day alone with Brendan. She enjoyed herself immensely. They visited their favourite museums and ate junk food all day. Polly knew she’d have to get back into the habit of working out again before the flab set in, but today she enjoyed just being with her son.
Brendan dragged her to a bar he knew with live music until it was time for them to go and eat. The music was so loud in the bar that there was no way she could ever talk to him, so Polly let the music wash over her and simply relaxed.
By the time they got to Clooney’s, it was packed out. It was always very popular because it was so good. The last time they’d eaten there was to celebrate Steve’s promotion at work. It felt good to add a new memory of the place to
her mind. She wanted to erase anything that made her dwell on Steve and how raw she felt right now.
They were seated in a corner, just as she asked, and she was glad to note there were not too many people around them. They would be able to talk in peace.
They browsed the menu, chose what they wanted, and ordered all in a relatively short time. Polly was impressed. They were served two beers and she knew she’d have to ask Brendan at some time about his future plans; now was as good a time as any.
“Bren, have you decided what you’re going to do?”
“Nah, probably go with Abi to the beach. I told you that, though, right?”
Polly shook her head. “No, I meant if you don’t do well in your exams.” She watched Brendan hang his head. “I’m worried about you, love.”
“A couple of guys from Uni who don’t think they’ve passed either are planning on moving to Wellington. They might start up a band and see how that goes. They’ve asked me to go along with them.”
Polly’s stomach lurched.
“But I reckon I’d be dumb to do that.”
She released the breath she was holding.
“I mean, I can always join them after Uni, and if it doesn’t work out then I’ll have a bloody good education to fall back on, right?”
Polly smiled. She’d brought him up well. He was thinking logically and she was relieved to hear it.
“I was serious, you know, Mum?”
“About what?”
“About switching to physics if I flunk this year.”
Polly frowned but nodded.
“I mean, it’s much harder than I thought and I used to be a whiz at physics. I just don’t think I’m cut out to be a doctor.” He laughed. “In fact, I hate all that squidgy body stuff.”
Polly couldn’t help herself; she had to laugh at that.
“Do you know what we’re expected to do?”
“Not really, but I suspect a restaurant isn’t the place to tell me, though.”
“Exactly. I just don’t like it. I want to get back into numbers and equations and experiments again.” He took a swig of his cola. “I think I was a dork to think I could take on medicine. It’s just not me.”
“Dad will be mad. You’ll have to retake a year, won’t you?”
“Yeah. I reckon he’ll give me an ear-bashing.”
“Hey, he was the one to push you towards medicine. It’s not your fault that it’s not your forte.”
“What if he won’t pay?” Brendan looked dejected.
“Then I will.” He stared at her open-mouthed and she smiled. “Even if it takes every cent I earn from every book I’ll ever write, I will pay.”
“Ah, Mum!” Brendan stood, leant across the table, and hugged her tightly. “You’re a good sort, you know that?”
Polly laughed. “Yeah, I do. Kevin told me so yesterday!”
* * * *
The meal was fabulous and the company was even better, as far as Polly was concerned. The crowning moment of the day was when they were leaving the restaurant. Brendan took hold of her hand and one of a party of women diners called out to her.
“Oh, aren’t you the lucky one with your toy boy!” Her friends laughed and one commented, “When I am older, I am going to be a fit cougar, just like her – he’s gorgeous!”
Polly and Brendan just about held it together until they were outside the restaurant and then they burst into uncontrollable laughter. Polly could not believe her son was mistaken for her toy boy. Brendan cried with laughter. They laughed all the way to the car and had to sit and wait until the fit passed before he was able to see well enough to drive them home.
The giggles didn’t actually stop as they drove and Polly shook her head at the memory.
When they got into the house, Brendan grabbed her and hugged her. “Come here, you gorgeous cougar!” He laughed into her mousey hair. “You’ve still got it, Mum. That was a compliment, I hope you realise that.”
Polly giggled. “I know. And apparently you’re gorgeous, too!” She winked at him.
“Well, how can I not be gorgeous when I have a fit mum like you?”
* * * *
Brendan produced a couple of DVDs from the bottom of one of his bags and Polly popped the cork on a couple of bottles from Steve’s collection in the basement.
“Oh, Dad is going to flip his lid!” Brendan giggled.
“Like I care!” Polly smirked. “I forgot about these in the basement. It’d be wrong to waste them and I can’t be bothered to send them to him. If he wants them, then he can come and get them… What’s left of them, anyway.” She smiled as she poured two glasses of wine for them.
Brendan smiled cheekily. “So you’ve gone through the crying and now you’re mad. That’s good. You’re grieving healthily.” He laughed.
Polly looked at him sideways. “Who do you think you are, Mr Psychologist?”
They laughed.
“Quit the psycho-babble unless you want to wear this.” She threatened mockingly as she passed him a glass of wine.
Polly sat down next to him and he started the DVD. “Do I get a choice?”
“Nah!” He laughed. “Anyway, you’ll love it. It’s a bit rude, so I hope you’re ok with that. A bloke at Uni lent me it. It’s a comedy about a family from Ireland.” He passed her the DVD case. It showed a family, and strange-looking mother in the centre, grinning. It was by the BBC, so it couldn’t be that bad, could it?
“Is that…”
“Yeah, it’s a man dressed as a woman. He’s hilarious, trust me. Let’s just watch one episode. If you don’t find it funny, then I’ll find you a pathetic, soppy, girly film.” He snorted.
Polly slapped him on the arm with the DVD case. However, she did find it funny after she got used to the accent. “You’d think I’d have no problem with accents after travelling the world. But no… rewind that bit! You’re right, this is damn funny!”
Polly didn’t want a soppy, girly film at all. The comedy series was just the tonic she needed. She thought she’d never laughed that hard at all in her entire life. That was a sad thought, really. She made a mental note to find out how many series were made of this show and buy them all.
Chapter Seven
Polly’s mobile phone was ringing again. Will there ever be a morning when that blasted phone doesn’t wake me up? Polly watched the phone move across the nightstand as it vibrated. Reluctantly she reached across and picked it up. Instantly she saw that it was Steve calling.
She groaned and flipped it open. “Hello?”
“Polly, it’s me, Steve. What the bloody hell is going on?” he bellowed in her ear.
Polly winced and pressed the buttons to put it on the speaker. If he was going to shout, he certainly wasn’t going to do it directly into her ear.
“Good morning, Steve. I’m fine, thanks for asking. How are you?” Polly let the sarcasm drip heavily from her tongue.
“Don’t mess me about, Poll. What’s all this about?”
Polly sighed and propped herself up in bed. “You’ll have to forgive me, Steve, for not being a mind reader. What are you referring to?” She mimed screaming and pulling out her hair.
“You’re selling the bloody house, that’s what! How dare you mail me the contracts to sign!”
“It has to be sold.”
“Not until I say so, it doesn’t!”
Polly could hear how angry he was with her. Her defences kicked in. The louder and angrier he got, the calmer she became.
“Well, you have a choice, Steve. We can either do this amicably or the hard way. We can sell the house and split the equity equally between us, or I can instruct my solicitor to take you to the cleaners. I will get to live here for the rest of my life and you’ll get to pay the mortgage on it and support a new family at the same time.”
Steve swore under his breath and then was silent. Polly could tell he was thinking. He must have known Polly was angry enough to take him for all he had. After all, he was the one who’d committed ad
ultery, not once but twice, and that gave her all the ammunition she needed against him in court. Polly also knew the incident with the maid would have crossed his mind, too. She was willing to bet he wanted to keep that from Kate’s ears for as long as possible.
“Well?” she prompted. “You woke me up. Is that all you have to say?”
His voice was quiet when he replied. “All right. I’ll sign and you can sell the house. But I want to be sure of getting my fifty percent.”
“Don’t you worry, Steve, I’ll make sure you get it. I wouldn’t mess about with it. I want you out of my hair as quickly as possible.” She took a deep breath. “Which reminds me. You should be hearing from Max soon.”
“Max? Max Anderson?”
“Yes.”
“Oh yeah? Did he call, then?” He obviously thought it was a social call.
“No. I paid him a visit. He’ll be handling the divorce.” She snapped the phone shut and then pressed the button to turn it off. Let him stew in that! She quickly reached over and unplugged the house phone. She didn’t want a barrage of abuse from Steve after that bombshell.
Suddenly realising that Brendan was home and asleep in his room, Polly shot out of bed and ran down the stairs to unplug all the house phones. They’d stayed up late last night, drank too much of Steve’s wine, and had a really good, long heart-to-heart. She wanted to let him sleep in. He deserved it after taking good care of her and working so hard on his exams.
Polly then made herself a mug of tea, grabbed the Saturday paper that she’d ignored yesterday, and went back to bed. It was time she turned her thoughts to house hunting.
