He put on clean jeans, but the only shirt he could find was that stupid lumberjack thing Aunt Millie had bought him for his birthday. He stared at it blankly, then pulled it on. What the hell, he wasn’t making a fashion statement.
They must have been listening out for him because they both shot out of the kitchen while he was on the stairs. ‘We’re in here, Henry,’ his dad said. ‘Can you come in a minute?’ He hesitated, then added briskly, ‘Things to discuss.’
Henry tramped into the kitchen without a word.
His dad tried to take charge. ‘This would be better if your sister was here, but we thought it best to have a talk as soon as possible. We can fill in Aisling when she gets back at the weekend.’
Welcome home, Aisling. Your mother’s run off with my secretary and I’ve booked my passage to Australia. They really should change the wording on the mat.
‘Do you want to sit down, Henry? Will I get you tea or something?’
His mother cut in tiredly, ‘Don’t waffle, Tim.’ To Henry she said, ‘I understand you’ve been talking to your father?’
Henry nodded and walked over to the fridge. There was half an apple inside, neatly sliced on a small plate. He bit into it and it tasted like sawdust. He went to the table and sat down, staring at them both with large eyes. At least he didn’t think he’d blubber now. He was all cried out.
‘I suppose the first thing I want to say is this has got nothing to do with you or Aisling, Henry,’ his mother said. ‘I mean, it obviously concerns you, but I want you to know you’re not ...’ She gave a stiff little shake of her head. ‘... you know, to blame or anything like that.’ She actually tried to smile.
She’d been reading her psychology books. Parents divorce, children get it in their head they’re somehow to blame. Years later they’re spilling it all out to some shrink. Henry said, ‘I don’t think anybody’s to blame.’ And surprised himself. It sounded far more grown-up than he felt.
His mother blinked. ‘Well, no. No, of course not. I just wanted to make sure you ...’ She let it trail.
Poor old Dad stuck his oar in again. He wasn’t really a match for Mum, but he was a fairly big deal executive after all, so he wasn’t exactly a wimp. He said, ‘The thing is, Henry, something like this changes things. That’s inevitable, whatever people want –’
Henry’s mother said quietly, ‘You agreed to let me handle this.’
With just a flash of anger, Henry’s dad said, ‘I was only trying to reassure him – ’ But he let it go.
Henry’s mother said, ‘Your father told me about his conversation with you this morning and we’ve been discussing the situation. Trying to decide what to do, really. He’s been – ’ She looked embarrassed and a little green. ‘He’s been very understanding.’ She dropped her eyes. ‘Probably more than I deserve.’ After a moment she looked up at Henry and said in an explosive breath, ‘We’ve been talking most of the day and we realise we’re not the only ones involved in this. There’s Aisling. And there’s you. I mentioned Aisling first because she’s younger and less likely to understand. You’re older, so ... Anyway, the point is that neither your father nor I can just think of ourselves and what we want. We, ah, have to consider what’s best for Aisling and you. And ourselves too, of course.’
Henry’s mind wouldn’t function. He could usually second-guess his parents by a mile. Now he’d no idea whether his mother was trying to prepare him for the divorce court or the firing squad.
‘What I want to tell you,’ his mother said. ‘What I want to tell you is that we’ve talked this through from every viewpoint and I suppose the first thing to say is that we’re not going to get a divorce. We don’t think that would be fair on either of you.’ She licked her lips. ‘But we are going to separate.’ She stared at Henry, obviously trying to gauge his reaction. After a moment she said, ‘You needn’t worry – nothing’s going to happen right away. It’ll take several weeks, maybe a month or so, to get everything organised. And we won’t be separating completely. We’ll get together from time to time, like family, so it’ll seem more like, you know, long holidays, trips abroad, that sort of thing.’ She wound to a halt, still staring at him.
‘Who gets the house?’ Henry asked dully.
Henry’s mother glanced across at his father, who said nothing. His mother said, ‘We thought it would be easier if your father moved out.’ She waited for Henry to react and when he didn’t she said almost eagerly, ‘It’s logical really. He can find somewhere nearer his work.’ She forced a smile. ‘You know how often he has to sleep at the office – it’ll really be much easier for him.’
Henry stared at her. She actually believed it.
His mother said, ‘This house is nearer the school.’ She meant her school, where she taught.
‘Who gets the kids?’ Henry asked.
‘Don’t put it like that!’ his mother pleaded. ‘It’s not like we’re splitting up the family.’
‘How else should I put it?’ He felt numb inside, as if he didn’t really care any more. He just wanted to know what was going to happen.
His mother sighed. ‘We thought it would be less of a disruption if you and Aisling stayed here. With me. You wouldn’t have to relocate, or make new friends or change schools or anything. Everything would just ... you know, go on as before. Your father would visit visit often.’ She forced the smile again. ‘You might even see him more often than you do now, with everything that’s been going on at the office.’
Bad choice of phrase, Mum, Henry thought. Aloud he said, ‘Will Anaïs be coming here?’
His mother hesitated and looked at his father again. She licked her lips nervously. ‘Eventually ... and obviously only if it’s all right with you and Aisling ... I would, ah, hope Anaïs might ... visit, maybe even stay over sometimes. Just to see how we all get along.’ Since she couldn’t look him in the eye, she looked out through the window and added, ‘Long term, who knows.’
‘So long term Anaïs might move in?’ Henry said.
‘It’s possible,’ his mother admitted. ‘But only if you and Aisling were happy about it.’ She was watching him again, still hoping for a reaction. After a moment she said, ‘Might be fun, Henry. Sort of like having two mothers.’ She blinked. ‘You like Anaïs.’
Sure he liked Anaïs. What wasn’t there to like? But two mums? No thank you. He was having enough problems with one. To his father he said, ‘All this OK with you, Dad?’
‘I don’t like it,’ his father said, ‘but it seems the fairest way.’
Fairest? His mum has the affair so she takes the house and the kids and kicks Dad out to find another place. Then she moves her lover in. If she’d convinced Dad that was fair, she should be selling used cars.
‘How do you feel about it, darling?’ his mother asked.
Henry shrugged. She didn’t care what he was feeling. Why should he get into it? ‘It’s what you and Dad have agreed.’ He stood up.
‘Where are you going?’ his mother asked at once.
Henry stared at her numbly. ‘To see Charlie,’ he said. ‘Mrs Severs is expecting me for tea.’
His parents looked at one another as he headed for the door. ‘You won’t discuss any of this with Charlie, will you?’ his mother called after him.
‘She’s what?’ asked Charlie when he discussed it with her.
‘Dad has this secretary called Anaïs. Mum’s having an affair with her.’
‘Your mum’s, like, gay?’
Henry nodded.
‘Wow!’ said Charlie. ‘Cool!’
The rain had proved to be a passing shower, so they were together in the Severs’s garden. Mrs Severs, who had the idea children never grew up, served them a tea of sausages, crisps, popcorn, jelly and a garishly pink cake, then left them to their own devices. The remnants were scattered across the garden table, along with two empty lemonade bottles. Henry had been surprised by the extent of his appetite. He hated what was happening, but now he knew the worst, he had the weirdest feeling o
f relief.
‘You think it’s cool my mum’s a lesbian?’
‘Sure. Don’t you?’
‘Never really thought about it like that.’
‘I have,’ Charlie said. ‘The gay thing, I mean – not your mum. The girls talk about it a lot at school.’
‘Do they?’ Henry asked, surprised.
‘Yes, of course.’ She cast an overtly innocent glance towards the sky. ‘Some have even ... dabbled.’
‘The girls at your school?’
‘Yes.’
‘With each other?’
‘Of course with each other – that’s the whole point! It’s supposed to be a phase you go through.’
‘Have you?’ She couldn’t have. But then this morning he’d believed his mum couldn’t have either.
Charlie laughed. ‘Not my thing.’ She tossed her hair. ‘You’re not upset, are you?’
‘About Mum? Yes, I am.’
‘That’s terribly old fashioned, Henry.’
‘I don’t care,’ Henry said. ‘It hurts my dad.’
Charlie looked thoughtful. ‘I suppose it does.’ She was a short girl with fair hair and blue eyes. Outside school he’d never seen her wear anything but jeans and a boy’s shirt. Sometimes he thought she was nuts, but the thing about Charlie was you could talk to her. About anything. The other thing about Charlie was she never told. She said, ‘What are you going to do?’
‘Me? What can I do?’
‘Dunno,’ Charlie admitted. ‘They going to divorce?’
‘They say they’re not,’ Henry said, ‘but it’s bound to come.’
‘What are they doing now? Staying together for the sake of the children?’ She rolled her eyes.
Henry nodded. ‘Something like that.’
Charlie put her hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry, Henry, this is really upsetting you, isn’t it?’
Henry bit his lip and nodded again. ‘Yes. Yes, it is.’
Charlie said, ‘My mum and dad divorced.’
Henry frowned. ‘What – they got back together again?’ Mr and Mrs Severs had always struck him as an easy-going couple without a care in the world.
Charlie gave a little smile. ‘Peter’s not my real dad, Henry.’
‘He isn’t?’
Charlie shook her head. ‘Mum divorced my real dad when I was three. Or four. He used to come home drunk and beat her up. She stayed with him for the sake of the kids – well, this kid really. One night he broke her arm and knocked me out of bed on to the floor. I got bruised and cried a lot. Mum decided enough was enough. Walked out with me under her good arm and hired a solicitor. She met Peter eighteen months later and it was a lot better second time around.’
Henry was staring at her open-mouthed. ‘I didn’t know any of this.’
‘No,’ Charlie said, ‘nobody does. When Mum remarried, Peter formally adopted me so I got his name as well as Mum. Peter’s all right.’
‘But what about your real dad?’
‘What about him?’
‘You ever see him?’
Charlie shook her head. ‘Nope.’
‘Not ever?’
‘Nope.’
‘Where’s he living now?’
‘Don’t know.’
‘Don’t you want to see him?’ Henry asked.
Charlie shook her head again. ‘I don’t even know what he looks like,’ she said as if it were some sort of a triumph. ‘I can’t remember and Mum burned all his pictures. She says he’s a turd.’
‘Sounds right,’ said Henry seriously.
Charlie suddenly grinned brightly. ‘Anyway, the whole point is you’re not the only one with a delinquent parent. Just that mine disappeared a long time ago. Thing is, Henry, it worked out well. Peter’s as good a dad as anybody. Better than my real dad. They’re happy together, more or less. You never know, this thing between your parents might be good in the long run.’
‘Doesn’t feel like a good thing now,’ Henry said. To his horror he felt his eyes begin to fill again. He tried to turn away, but Charlie spotted it.
She did exactly what Anaïs had done. She came across to his plastic garden chair and put her arm around his shoulders and cradled his head to her chest. She was only really starting to grow breasts, so it didn’t feel the same and somehow he managed to stop himself from crying.
Still holding him, Charlie said, ‘Must have been a heck of a day.’
A butterfly fluttered past on an erratic course towards the hedge. Henry started, then relaxed. You don’t know the half of it, he thought.
Fourteen
Aisling came home Friday night full of news about a pony called Chester and some stupid instructor named Damien Middlefield. She looked astonished when her parents wouldn’t listen and spirited her away into the living room to explain that life, for once, was not a bowl of cherries. Henry waited patiently in the kitchen, ate some yoghurt, then two fudge brownies, but eventually it got so late he went to bed. The following morning he found Aisling heavily into denial.
‘He’s so big,’ she told him enthusiastically, ‘but so gentle. And he’ll try anything, real have-a-go no matter how high they set the fences. I just wanted to pack him up in my case and bring him home with me.’ She was talking about Chester, the wonder-horse. ‘Do you think Mum and Dad would let me have a pony? I mean, there’s room. Well, there would be if we got rid of the pergola. Chester might actually be for sale. And if Dad bought the field from Dr Henderson, we’d have more than enough grazing and I could –’
‘What did they tell you?’ Henry asked. They were alone in the house. Mum had gone shopping and Dad, despite the fact it was Saturday, had taken himself off to the office. Both had stressed they would not be back until the afternoon. Henry suspected it was a deliberate give-the-children-time-to-talk-things-over sort of thing.
‘Well, I didn’t actually ask them about Chester,’ Aisling said. ‘I mean I hinted but –’
‘Oh, come on, Aisling!’ Henry said tiredly. ‘We’re going to have to talk about it some time.’
‘Talk about what?’ Aisling asked.
‘What’s happening between Mum and Dad.’
‘What’s happening between Mum and Dad?’ Aisling asked brightly.
Henry felt like strangling her. ‘Did they tell you Mum’s been having an affair with Dad’s secretary?’ he asked brutally.
‘Oh, that,’ Aisling said. ‘It doesn’t mean anything. Mum’s not gay.’
‘Mum’s not gay?’ Henry echoed.
‘No,’ said Aisling sniffily. ‘How could she be? Besides, she told me last night.’
‘Mum told you she isn’t gay, but she’s having an affair with Anaïs Ward? Didn’t you see the tiniest little contradiction between those two statements?’
‘No,’ Aisling said. She glanced around vaguely, like somebody looking for an escape route. ‘Don’t you have to go work for that old poop Fogarty or something?’
Henry ignored it. ‘They told you they were splitting up? Dad’s going off somewhere and we’re supposed to stay here with Mum?’
‘Won’t last long,’ Aisling told him confidently.
‘What won’t?’
‘The thing about Mum and Dad living apart. Mum’s not serious – it’s just an early menopause or something. It’s not like it’s another man. She’s just at an age when women like to experiment. You’re a boy – you wouldn’t understand. It’ll blow over and then Dad will come back. They mightn’t even get as far as separating. They both said that would take ages because Dad has to find a flat. Mum could have stopped with Anaïs before then.’
He’d never thought of his sister as Brain of Britain, but this was dim even for her. ‘And you think Dad will just ... forgive her?’
‘What’s he got to forgive? It’s not another man.’
Henry gave in. Aisling seldom made much sense and today she wasn’t making any at all. But then everybody coped with these things their own way. Aisling obviously wanted to believe everything was going to be all right, noth
ing was going to change. Or if it did, it wouldn’t change for long. Then she could get back to the important things in life, like persuading Dad to buy her a pony. ‘OK,’ he said.
‘OK what?’ Aisling asked suspiciously.
‘OK, it’s not happening.’ He got up and started to shrug on his jacket.
‘Where are you going?’
‘To work for that old poop Fogarty,’ Henry said.
For some reason it made her angry. ‘Maybe if you stayed home a bit more, this whole thing might never have happened!’
He stared at her, speechless for a minute. She was just back from a week at her damn Pony Club, she treated the house like a hotel and she was telling him he should stay home more? Before he could think of a suitable riposte, something bitter and hurtful, she said, ‘What do you do for that dreadful Fogarty person anyway? I mean, old man living alone, no wife. What’s somebody like that want with a young boy coming round two or three times a week? You sure it’s Mum who’s the gay one in this family, Henry?’
‘You shut up!’ Henry snapped. He took her by the arms and shook her, so her head bobbed like a rag doll. ‘You ... just ... shut ... up about ... about everything!’ But some half-buried part of him knew she wasn’t talking to him at all, wasn’t talking about him. She was just shouting aloud to drown her own fear, trying to hold someone else to blame for what was happening to their parents.
‘All right,’ she challenged. ‘What do you do?’
The thought that popped into his head – We rescue fairies – was so ridiculous he almost smiled. With a huge effort he managed to make his voice sound calm and reasonable. ‘I clean his house, sometimes his shed. He lets things slide a bit. I think he’s over eighty.’
But Aisling was in no mood for calm and reasonable. ‘That all you do?’ she asked, in his face. ‘Just cleaning?’
‘No, as a matter of fact. Not just cleaning.’
Absolute triumph took command of her features. She stood looking at him, waiting.
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