Mum in the Middle

by Jane Wenham-Jones

  ‘Like waiting for Christmas,’ said Jim glumly.

  I forbore to point out that unfortunately that particular stress-fuelled and costly delight came around a lot more frequently, and instead enquired what exactly I was required to do.

  ‘I’d better put some clothes on,’ I said, when Jim had finished outlining the procedure, which involved one of us holding the cover up while the other poked underneath it and sounded fairly high risk of my dressing gown flapping open.

  Jim looked embarrassed. ‘Might be best, Duck.’

  Meg, he told me, when I had returned in my shorts and a clean t-shirt, had been nagging him all week as she was very hot on checking her own downstairs lav was fully functional and did not like the look of it last Friday. ‘Not much gets past our Meg,’ he said, producing a large screwdriver and prising up the edge of the metal cover.

  ‘Pooh,’ I said, as I peered down the hole where a gulley was clogged up with leafy brown sludge.

  ‘Hold it, it’s heavy,’ Jim was leaning into the hole, jabbing at the sludge with a long spindly stick that, quite clearly, was not nearly robust enough to shift the blockage.

  ‘What about a rake?’ I offered.

  ‘Have you got one handy?’

  ‘No.’

  Garden tools were on my list. My only spade had snapped a couple of weeks ago and I’d been working with trowels and hand forks ever since.

  ‘Angus always did this bit,’ Jim observed. ‘He had rods,’ he added helpfully.

  My arms were aching. ‘Let’s put this down a minute,’ I said, lowering the metal carefully onto the ground and going up the garden to the pile of foliage I’d dumped there earlier. I came back with two thick bendy branches from the buddleia I’d chopped back and pushed the largest one into the opening. I prodded the obstruction, moving it along several inches and seeing water trickle behind it. ‘Got it,’ I said jubilantly, digging the end of the stick underneath the gunge and attempting to flick the debris over the side of the gully.

  The stick bent obligingly then sprang back shooting a spray up and over me. I watched a splatter of brown droplets land on my pale top and felt them rain across my face. My legs were dotted with dark splodges. Jim – showing remarkable agility for a man of his age – leapt back several metres while I shrieked.

  ‘Oh fuck!’ I yelled, looking at my spotted arms. ‘It stinks!’

  Jim nodded gravely from a distance. ‘Raw sewage, Duck. Backs up here from all down the street.’

  I was still honking from the thought, the smell still in my nostrils even after I’d scrubbed myself from head to foot and lathered my hair twice with a cocktail of my most highly perfumed unguents. ‘Yuck,’ I said aloud. ‘Many bloody happy returns.’

  ‘I hope you are having a magical day,’ Jules from the office had posted on Facebook by the time I got downstairs to see how the washing machine was progressing with the boil cycle. Thank you. I am covered in shit …

  But at least the loo was emptying at normal speed now. Having allowed me to be pebble-dashed with the entire neighbourhood’s effluence, Jim had suddenly remembered some fast-acting, supersonic acid-based drain-clearing solution he had in his shed, that dissolved the rest of it in short order.

  The phone rang in the middle of an experimental flush. My mother sounded better too. ‘I’m sending you rose bushes,’ she announced. ‘But they won’t get there till next week.’

  ‘Thanks Mum,’ I said, touched. ‘Are you okay?’

  I listened while she told me about her own garden and Mo’s view on gladioli and something I didn’t quite get the full thrust of about BBC licence fees. But I was heartened to hear she didn’t sound any less comprehensible than she had ever done and probably a bit brighter.

  When Gerald came on the phone he reported they’d had a very good week.

  ‘She knew it was your birthday,’ he said proudly. ‘She woke me at five a.m. It was the first thing she said.’

  It was daft to cry and I don’t know why I did. But when I put the phone down I was overcome. I sat at the bottom of the stairs and wept silently into my hands, for her, for me, for Gerald, for the small achievements we’d now make ourselves celebrate as we tried to hang on.

  I had a sharp memory of her, also in tears, on one of the rare occasions I’d ever seen her moved, when my father had died. ‘Will you be okay?’ said a kindly woman I didn’t know, as she had kissed my mother goodbye. My mother had nodded. ‘We will get on with it,’ she’d said.

  Adding to Alice and me, as we stood drying up when the last mourners had gone home and we were left to collect plates and sherry glasses and adjust to the suddenness of his going. ‘What else can we do?’

  What indeed? I asked myself, as I fell back on the sofa in my new pyjamas.

  I was not going to worry about my mother or my son’s exam results or the long-term career prospects of my daughter or the balance sheet of a young couple thrust into parenthood. I would not concern myself with my long list of necessary household repairs, failing strategies on social media or about shrivelling up into a partner-less old age …

  I eyed the swivel thingy in the corner which I hadn’t used since Ben had videoed me and then put it on Snapchat, stretched one leg out in front of me and tried to tighten the muscles in my stomach. I could aspire to be one of those elastic old ladies like the one in my yoga class who must be eighty but could still get her knees around her neck.

  Exercise, they had told me on Woman’s Hour, was especially crucial in middle age …

  I opened the chocolates. The only energy I felt like expending right now was clicking on the film channel.

  I’d only managed a nut twirl and a coffee cream when my phone pinged with a text from Jinni inviting me to meet Dan and have a drink. I knew she was being kind – probably tipped off by Tilly I was on my own today – but I was quite sure she didn’t really want visitors on her first night of having her son back from the other side of the world and I certainly couldn’t be arsed to get dressed or do anything with my frizzy hair.

  I sent her a brief reply, citing knackeredness from gardening and malodorous drainage crises and said I’d pop over tomorrow.

  My mobile rang when I had my top off and was trying to reach behind my shoulders to put after-sun on my glowing back, while watching Tootsie.

  ‘I could really do with some help,’ Jinni said.

  I sighed. ‘Isn’t Dan there?’

  ‘He’s popped out,’ said Jinni.

  Already? ‘Well can’t it wait till he gets back? I’m in the middle of moisturising and Dustin Hoffman’s about to take his dress off …’

  There was a silence as Jinni digested this. ‘Not really,’ she said. ‘I’ll come over and explain.’

  Before I could answer she’d gone and I sighed some more. If she wanted me to hold a step-ladder while she brought down a ceiling, she’d just have to leave it till tomorrow.

  ‘Hold on!’ I called, as she rapped on the door and I struggled back into the top that now stuck to me.

  Jinni looked stunning. Her dark hair was in loose shiny waves down her back and she was wearing a long red dress that looked amazing against her tan, with deep-red lipstick and nails. ‘Gosh, you look glam,’ I said.

  She smiled. ‘Are you okay?’ she enquired, as she took in my damp hair and pyjamas. Her eyes rested on the open box of chocolates. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘Just having a quiet night in. Relaxing,’ I added, as Jinni didn’t reply. ‘It’s my birthday,’ I said awkwardly, as the silence continued.

  ‘Is it?’ Jinni looked pleased. ‘Well then you MUST come over for a drink … come on, get changed …’

  My heart sank. ‘Jinni, really, that’s sweet of you but I haven’t had any time to myself for days. I just want to curl up and have a drink on my own. Or with you – here,’ I continued hastily, thinking this sounded both lush-like and rejecting. I saw the way Jinni’s face had fallen and rushed on. ‘I’ve got a bottle of champagne in the fridge and I’ll open some cr
isps–’

  ‘No!’ Jinni said loudly. ‘Thank you,’ she went on more quietly, as I looked at her startled. ‘You enjoy it with the kids. Please, Tess, could you just come over for a few minutes – there’s something I need to show you. I’d really appreciate it …’

  Grumpily I pushed my feet into flip-flops. I knew she’d keep on until I gave in.

  ‘Do you want to put some proper clothes on?’ she enquired as I dragged my body towards the door.

  ‘I’ll only be a moment,’ I said firmly. ‘The neighbours are used to me rushing about in my nightwear by now.’ I knew I sounded churlish but it was ridiculous. What could possibly be so pressing?

  Doubt set in as we crossed the road and by the time she had opened her front door, and pushed me in first, I was washed over with foreboding. I felt her hand on the small of my sticky back as she propelled me down her hall towards the closed kitchen door. It swung open. I gasped. They chorused.

  ‘S-U-R-P-R-I-S-E!’

  Chapter 41

  ‘You could have insisted!’ I said, taking a mouthful from the champagne glass someone had put in my hand and looking down at my pyjama bottoms.

  Jinni laughed. ‘I was beginning to worry I wouldn’t prise you out of there at all …’

  ‘We’d have had to truss her up and blindfold her,’ said Tilly. It was the grinning faces of my three children I’d seen first, crowded into the kitchen with Caroline and Sam and Fran, a tall, good-looking, deeply tanned young man I assumed was Dan, plus another couple of chaps I didn’t know. And over to one side, standing with Emily and Grace – Malcolm. I felt a rush of pleasure and then looked at him embarrassed.

  ‘Invited to bulk out the numbers,’ he said drily. ‘Can’t have a surprise party with only six guests.’

  It would have been less bloody awkward, I thought silently, wondering why Jinni had included him when I’d told her about our row. He didn’t seem interested in pursuing the conversation and I didn’t know what to say to make it better between us.

  ‘Have you heard from Gabriel?’ I asked Emily boldly. She nodded. ‘Yes!’ she said, happily. ‘And so will you soon. He’s–

  ‘Not the best topic of conversation in this house!’ interrupted Malcolm, as Jinni swept back towards us with Caroline in tow.

  I glared at him. ‘He still exists!’ I said, as Caroline directed me towards a kitchen stool and produced a bulging make-up bag. ‘And I’d like to hear how he is–’

  But Malcolm was steering Emily away from me and Jinni was topping up my glass. ‘He’s insufferable,’ I said, wishing I could rewind to a time when he was making me laugh, and holding up my face obediently as Caroline, like the make-up girl on a film set, dabbed it with a sponge.

  ‘Bark somewhat worse than bite, I would say. Keep still!’ Caroline added, as she expertly applied blusher. ‘While I transform you.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘So you look as gorgeous as you should do on your birthday! Why are you so grumpy? As if I can’t guess. Why don’t you–?’

  ‘I’m not, I’m very touched,’ I cut across her hastily, before she could suggest I did a search on Tinder for a potential bunk-up or threw myself at Jinni’s son. And it was true.

  ‘I hope your parents don’t mind your being here,’ I told Sam, who was positively glowing.

  She shook her head. ‘Not at all. We had lunch with them and they’re really looking forward to meeting you.’ She put a hand on her abdomen. ‘Dad bought me a Doppler.’

  ‘A what?’

  ‘You use it to hear the baby’s heartbeat. We tried it and could hear something, but I think it was my stomach rumbling.’ She giggled. ‘But it will be nice when he’s a bit bigger …’

  ‘Or she?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Oliver keeps saying “him” but it will probably be a girl now …’

  I imagined a little boy clambering onto my lap or a small girl standing on a chair in my kitchen, hands in a bowl of flour, and suddenly felt proud.

  When they asked where babies came from, it wouldn’t be about birds and bees. My first grandchild, I could tell him or her, had all started with a rogue prawn …

  Oliver came over. He looked better too.

  ‘You all right, Mum?’

  ‘Absolutely!’

  The champagne was zinging nicely around my bloodstream now and I felt filled with love and gratitude to them all. I’d hugged my kids, shaken hands with Dan – who had Jinni’s honking laugh and bright eyes – and also his friend Jake, who’d travelled back with him and was keeping away from Malcolm. As he drifted towards the food, I prepared to quiz Emily on what she’d heard.

  But before I could reach her there was a small tap on my shoulder and oh, there he was, smiling nervously, holding out a wrapped gift. ‘Happy Birthday, Tess.’

  ‘Oh, Gabriel!’ I shrieked, then gave him a deliberately motherly embrace. ‘Where did you come from? What’s been happening?’ I glanced over at Malcolm, who had turned his back on us and appeared to be studying a plate of pork pies. ‘Are you okay?’

  Gabriel nodded, looking overcome.

  I wittered on to fill the silence. ‘It’s lovely to see you and I know Ben’s missed having you around.’ I nodded over to where my youngest, lager can in hand, was talking to Jake. ‘I’ve not met Maria yet,’ I added. ‘What did you think of her?’

  ‘Er – she’s very pretty,’ said Gabriel. ‘Like Emily,’ he added quickly, as the young girl joined us. She gazed at him adoringly as usual and then slipped her hand into his. To my consternation he squeezed her fingers back and smiled down at her. She leant her head against his shoulder.

  I felt a pang of alarm. I’d noticed Tilly hadn’t come over to greet Gabriel, but how would she feel if he was parading a new girl on his arm? I looked anxiously across to where she was talking to the chap I’d only heard was called Matt. I’d told Gabriel he needed someone of his own age, but I hadn’t meant …

  ‘Oh!’ I said, looking back at him. ‘Are you two …?’ But Tilly had seen me watching her and was beckoning me over. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ I said.

  Tilly was wearing a short black dress I’d not seen before.

  ‘Mum, this is Mattie.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you.’ I held my hand out to the spiky-haired young man, wondering what his connection was with Jinni. He was in his late twenties, beautifully dressed in a silk shirt and skinny chinos, sporting just the right amount of designer stubble, a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses jutting from his top pocket. My daughter was gazing at him, with much the same expression I’d seen on Emily.

  ‘Are you local?’ I asked politely.

  Tilly shook her head as if I were very dim. ‘Mum! Mattie’s my new flatmate. He lives in Tooting. I told you!’

  ‘OH!’ The house share, with Matthew, the cousin of Shane. It was coming back to me. But …

  Tilly had her arm through his now. In fact, they had their arms right around each other. If I wasn’t very much mistaken, his hand was right over my daughter’s left buttock. ‘Have you moved in yet, darling?’ I asked faintly.

  ‘Next week.’ Tilly looked apologetically at Mattie, who was nuzzling her ear. ‘She never listens …’

  ‘I did listen,’ I hissed, when Mattie had been despatched by Tilly to refill our glasses. ‘But you said he was–’

  ‘I thought he was,’ Tilly gave me a wicked grin. ‘But he definitely isn’t …!’

  I would like Mattie when I got to know him, she assured me, because he was in touch with his feminine side and not an unreconstructed yob like Ben, so could he stay the night, if he slept on the sofa?

  I was distracted from answering by Jinni clapping her hands in the kitchen doorway.

  ‘A late arrival!’ She cried. ‘And very special guest. Fresh from the airport in time for Tess’s birthday celebrations … I give you …’

  Everybody had stopped talking. I saw Caroline’s eyes fixed on the door, alight with expectation. I squirmed inside. Surely Jinni hadn’t relented to th
e point where she’d invited – Oh please no – not in front of everyone …

  But as Jinni stepped aside with a flourish, it was a woman with short brown hair and business-like expression who entered the room and looked me up and down. ‘Good to see you’ve made an effort!’ My sister dropped her handbag on the floor and hugged me hard. ‘You look like a goldfish,’ she said.

  I hugged Alice back. I realised my hands were shaking.

  ‘It’s not that much of a shock, surely,’ my sister was saying. ‘I did tell you I’d be over soon …’

  I nodded dumbly as Tilly put a drink in her aunt’s hand. ‘We thought it would be a lovely surprise,’ my daughter said accusingly. ‘You were out when the call came …’

  ‘It is!’

  ‘Oliver told me what they were planning, so I said I’d do my best.’ Alice yawned. ‘I won’t be up late, though.’

  ‘You’ll have to sleep in my bed. I’ll go back and change the sheets …’

  My sister put a hand up to silence me. ‘I’ll sleep in the old ones. Or anywhere! I was on a mud floor in Ecuador. Enjoy your birthday!’

  I smiled at the familiar bossy tones. ‘Have you really just got here? Did you get the train?’ My sister was an intrepid traveller who could have back-packed here from the Outer Hebrides for all I knew.

  ‘Flew in early this morning. Had a meeting in London with an agrologist who’s over here from Chile – it was a one-off opportunity. The work he’s doing is ground-breaking …’

  ‘A what?’ said Caroline. ‘She doesn’t get any easier to follow.’

  ‘It will be something to do with soil,’ I explained. ‘It’s her speciality. She lectures all over the world now. She’s the clever one.’

  ‘But also quite dull,’ Caroline whispered, as Alice instructed Oliver and Sam on the latest innovations in crop rotation. She herself was arresting in a short, fitted jade dress with matching jewelled mules, which had earned her appreciative looks from Dan and Jake. ‘Are you enjoying yourself, darling?’