The Summer Seekers

by Sarah Morgan

  She’d been flicking through the magazine in the dentist’s waiting room the week before and that feature had jumped out at her. She’d started to read it, searching for reassurance.

  It wasn’t as if she and Sean argued. There was nothing specifically wrong. Just a vague discomfort inside her that reminded her constantly that the settled life she valued so much might not be as settled as she thought. That just as a million tiny things could pull a couple together, so a million tiny things could nudge them apart.

  She’d read through the article, feeling sicker and sicker. By the time she’d reached the sixth sign she’d been so freaked out that she’d torn the pages from the magazine, coughing violently to cover the sound. It wasn’t done to steal magazines from waiting rooms.

  And now those torn pages lay in her bag, a constant reminder that she was ignoring something deep and important. She knew it needed to be addressed, but she was afraid to touch the fabric of her marriage in case the whole thing fell apart—like her mother’s house.

  Sean fastened his seat belt. “You shouldn’t blame yourself.”

  She felt a moment of panic, and then realized he was talking about her mother. What sort of person was she that she could forget her injured mother so easily?

  A person who was worried about her marriage.

  “I should have tried harder to make her see sense,” she said.

  They would have to sell the house—there was no doubt about that. Liza hoped it could wait until later in the summer. It was only a few weeks until school ended, and then the girls had various commitments until they all went on their annual family holiday to the South of France.

  France.

  A wave of calm flowed over her.

  France would give her the time to take a closer look at her marriage. They’d both be relaxed, and away from the endless demands of daily life. She and Sean would be able to spend some time together that didn’t involve handling issues and problems. Until then, she was going to give herself permission to forget about the whole thing and focus on the immediate problem.

  Her mother.

  Oakwood Cottage.

  Sadness ripped through her. Ridiculous though it was, the place still felt like home. She’d clung to that last remaining piece of her childhood, unable to imagine a time when she would no longer sit in the garden or stroll across the fields to the sea.

  “Dad made me promise not to put her in a home,” she said.

  “Which was unfair. No one can make promises about a future they can’t foresee. And you’re not ‘putting’ her anywhere.” Sean was ever reasonable. “She’s a human being—not a garden gnome. Also, there are plenty of good residential homes.”

  “I know. I have a folder bulging with glossy brochures in the back seat of the car. They make them look so good I want to check in myself. Unfortunately, I doubt my mother will feel the same way.”

  Sean was scrolling through emails on his phone. “In the end it’s her choice. It has nothing to do with us.”

  “It has a lot to do with us. It’s not practical to go there every weekend, and even if they weren’t in the middle of exams the twins wouldn’t come with us without complaining. It’s in the middle of nowhere, Mum.”

  “Which is why we’re leaving them this weekend.”

  “And that terrifies me too. What if they have a party or something?”

  “Why must you always imagine the worst? Treat them like responsible humans and they’ll behave like responsible humans.”

  Was it really that simple? Or was Sean’s confidence based on misplaced optimism?

  “I don’t like the friends Caitlin is mixing with right now. They’re not interested in studying and they spend their weekends hanging out in the shopping mall.”

  He didn’t look up. “Isn’t that normal for teenage girls?”

  “She’s changed since she met Jane. She answers back and she used to be so good-natured.”

  “Hormones. She’ll grow out of it.”

  Sean’s parenting style was “hands off”. He thought of it as being relaxed. Liza considered it abdication.

  When the twins were little they’d played with each other. Then they’d started school and invited friends round to play. Liza had found them delightful. That had all changed when they’d moved to senior school and Alice and Caitlin had made friends with a different group of girls. They were a year older. Most of them were already driving and also, Liza was sure, drinking.

  The fact that she might not like her daughters’ friends was a problem that hadn’t occurred to her until the past year.

  She forced her attention back to the problem of her mother. “If you could fix the roof in the garden room this weekend, that would be great. We should have spent more time maintaining the place. I feel guilty that I haven’t done enough.”

  Sean finally looked up. “What you feel guilty about,” he said, “is that you and your mother aren’t close. But that isn’t your fault, you know that.”

  She did know that, but it was still uncomfortable hearing the truth spoken aloud. It was something she didn’t like to acknowledge. Not being close to her mother felt like a flaw. A grubby secret. Something she should apologize for.

  She’d tried so hard, but her mother wasn’t an easy woman to get close to. Intensely private, Kathleen revealed little of her inner thoughts. She’d always been the same. Even when Liza’s father had died, Kathleen had focused on the practical. Any attempt to engage her mother in a conversation about feelings or emotions was rebuffed. There were days when Liza felt that she didn’t even truly know her mother. She knew what Kathleen did and how she spent her time, but she didn’t know how she felt about things. And that included her feelings for her daughter.

  She couldn’t remember her mother ever telling her that she loved her.

  Was her mother proud of her? Maybe, but she wasn’t sure about that either.

  “I love her very much, but it’s true that I do wish she’d share more.” She clamped her teeth together, knowing that there were things she wasn’t sharing either. Was she turning into her mother? She should probably be admitting to Sean that she felt overloaded—as if the entire smooth running of their lives was her responsibility. And in a way it was. Sean had a busy architectural practice in London. When he wasn’t working he was using the gym, running in the park or playing golf with clients. Liza’s time outside work was spent sorting out the house and the twins.

  Was this what marriage was? Once those early couple-focused years had passed, did it turn into this?

  Eight signs that your marriage might be in trouble.

  It was just a stupid article. She’d met Sean when she was a teenager and many happy years had followed. True, life felt as if it was nothing but jobs and responsibility right now, but that was part of being an adult, wasn’t it?

  “I know you love your mother. That’s why we’re in the car on a Friday afternoon,” Sean said. “And we’ll make it through this current crisis the way we’ve made it through the others. One step at a time.”

  But why does life always have to be a crisis?

  She almost asked, but Sean had already moved on and was answering a call from a colleague.

  Liza only half listened as he dealt with a string of problems. Since the practice had taken off it wasn’t unusual for Sean to be glued to his phone.

  “Mmm...” he said. “But it’s about creating a simple crafted space... No, that won’t work... Yes, I’ll call them.”

  When he eventually ended the call, she glanced at him. “What if the twins invite Jane over?”

  “You can’t stop them seeing their friends.”

  “It’s not their friends in general that worry me—only Jane. Did you know she smokes? I’m worried about drugs. Sean, are you listening? Stop doing your emails.”

  “Sorry. But I wasn’t expecting to take this afternoon o
ff and I have a lot going on right now.” Sean pressed Send and looked up. “What were you saying? Ah, smoking and drugs... Even if Jane does all that, it doesn’t mean Caitlin will.”

  “She’s easily influenced. She badly wants to fit in.”

  “And that’s common at her age. Plenty of other kids are the same. It will do the twins good to fend for themselves for a weekend.”

  They wouldn’t exactly be fending for themselves. Liza had already filled the fridge with food. She’d removed all the alcohol from the kitchen cupboard, locked it in the garage and removed the key. But she knew that wouldn’t stop them buying more if they wanted to.

  Her mind flew to all the possibilities. “What if they have a wild party?”

  “It would make them normal. All teenagers have wild parties.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “I know. You were unusually well-behaved and innocent.” He put his phone away. “Until I met you and changed all that. Remember that day on the beach when you went for a walk? You were sixteen. I was with a crowd.”

  “I remember.” They’d been the cool crowd, and she’d almost turned around when she saw them, but in the end she’d joined them.

  “I put my hand up your dress.” He adjusted his seat to give himself more legroom. “I admit it—my technique needed work.”

  Her first kiss.

  She remembered it clearly. The excited fumbling. The forbidden nature of the encounter. Music in the background. The delicious thrill of anticipation.

  She’d fallen crazily in love with Sean that summer. She’d known she was out of step with her peers, who’d been dancing their way through different relationships like butterflies seeking nectar. Liza had never wanted that. She’d never felt the need for romantic adventure. That meant uncertainty, and she’d already had more than enough of that in her life. All she’d wanted was Sean, with his wide shoulders, his easy smile and his calm nature.

  She missed the simplicity of that time.

  “Are you happy, Sean?” The words escaped before she could stop them.

  “What sort of a question is that?” Finally she had his full attention. “The business is going brilliantly. The girls are doing well in school. Of course I’m happy. Aren’t you?”

  The business. The girls.

  Eight signs that your marriage might be in trouble.

  “I feel—a little overwhelmed sometimes, that’s all.”

  She tiptoed cautiously into territory she’d never entered before.

  “That’s because you take everything so seriously. You worry about every small detail. About the twins. About your mother. You need to chill.”

  His words slid under her skin like a blade. She’d used to love the fact that he was so calm, but now it felt like a criticism of her coping skills. Not only was she doing everything, but she was taking it all too seriously.

  “You’re suggesting I need to ‘chill’ about the fact my eighty-year-old mother has been assaulted in her own home?”

  “It sounded more like an accident than an assault, but I was talking generally. You worry about things that haven’t happened and you try and control every little thing. Most things turn out fine if you leave them alone.”

  “They turn out fine because I anticipate problems before they happen.”

  And anticipating things was exhausting—like trying to stay afloat when someone had tied weights to her legs.

  For a wild moment she wondered what it would be like to be single. To have no one to worry about but herself.

  No responsibility. Free time.

  She yanked herself back from that thought.

  Sean leaned his head back against the seat. “Let’s leave this discussion until we’re back home. Here we are, spending the weekend together by the sea. Let’s enjoy it. Everything is going to be fine.”

  His ability to focus on the moment was a strength, but also a flaw that sometimes grated on her. He could live in the moment because she took care of all the other stuff.

  He reached across to squeeze her leg and she thought about a time twenty years ago, when they’d had sex in the car, parking in a quiet country lane and steaming up the windows until neither of them had been able to see through the glass.

  What had happened to that part of their lives? What had happened to spontaneity? To joy?

  It seemed so long ago she could barely remember it.

  These days her life was driven by worry and duty. She was being slowly crushed by the ever-increasing weight of responsibility.

  “When did we last go away together?” she asked.

  “We’re going away now.”

  “This isn’t a minibreak, Sean. My mother needed stitches in her head. She has a mild concussion.”

  She crawled through the heavy London traffic, her head throbbing at the thought of the drive ahead. Friday afternoon was the worst possible time to leave, but they’d had no choice.

  When the twins were young they’d traveled at night. They’d arrive at Oakwood Cottage in the early hours of the morning and Sean would carry both children inside and deposit them into the twin beds in the attic room, tucking them under the quilts her mother had brought back from one of her many foreign trips.

  “I really don’t want to do it, but I think it’s time to sell Oakwood Cottage. If she’s going into residential care, we can’t afford to keep it.”

  Someone else would play hide-and-seek in the overgrown gardens, scramble into the dusty attic and fill the endless bookshelves. Someone else would sleep in her old bedroom, and enjoy the breathtaking views across fields to the sea.

  Something tore inside her.

  The fact that she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d had a relaxing weekend in Cornwall didn’t lessen the feeling of loss. If anything it intensified the emotion, because now she wished she’d taken greater advantage of the cottage. She’d assumed it would always be there...

  Ever since her father had died, visits home had been associated with chores. Clearing the garden. Filling the freezer. Checking that her mother was coping with a house that was far too big for one person, especially when that person was advanced in years and had no interest in home maintenance.

  She’d thought that the death of her father might bring her closer to her mother, but that hadn’t happened.

  Grief sliced through her, making her catch her breath. It had been five years, and she still missed her dad every day.

  “I can’t see your mother selling it,” Sean said, “and I think it’s important not to overreact. This accident wasn’t of her own making. She was managing perfectly well before this.”

  “Was she, though? Apart from the fact she did leave the door open, I don’t think she eats properly. Supper is a bowl of cereal. Or bacon. She eats too much bacon.”

  “Is there such a thing as too much bacon?” Sean caught her eye and gave a sheepish smile. “I’m kidding. You’re right. Bacon is bad. Although at your mother’s age one has to wonder if it really matters.”

  “If she gives up bacon maybe she’ll live to be ninety.”

  “But would she enjoy those miserable, bacon-free extra years?”

  “Can you be serious?”

  “I am serious. It’s about quality of life, not just quantity. You try and keep every bad thing at bay but doing that also keeps out the good stuff. Maybe she could stay in the house and we could find someone local to look in on her.”

  “She’s terrible at taking help from anyone. You know how independent she is.” Liza hit the brakes as the car in front of her stopped, the seat belt locking hard against her body. Her eyes pricked with tiredness and her head pounded. She hadn’t slept well the night before, worrying about Caitlin and her friendship issues. “Do you think I should have locked our bedroom?”

  “Why? If someone breaks into our house they’ll simply kick the doors down if they’
re locked. Makes more mess.”

  “I wasn’t thinking of burglars. I was thinking about the twins.”

  “Why would the twins go into our bedroom? They have perfectly good rooms of their own.”

  What did it say about her that she didn’t entirely trust her own children? They’d been suitably horrified when they’d discovered that their elderly grandmother had been assaulted, but had flat-out resisted her attempts to persuade them to come too.

  “There’s nothing to do at Granny’s,” Alice had said, exchanging looks with her sister.

  “Besides, we have work to do.” Caitlin had gestured to a stack of textbooks. “History exam on Monday. I’ll be studying. Probably won’t even have time to order in pizza.”

  It had been a reasonable response. So why did Liza feel nervous?

  She’d do a video call later so that she could see what was going on in the background.

  The traffic finally cleared, and they headed west to Cornwall.

  By the time they turned into the country lane that led to her mother’s house it was late afternoon, and the sun sent a rosy glow over the fields and hedges.

  She was allowing herself a rare moment of appreciating the scenery when a bright red sports car sped round the bend, causing her almost to swerve into a ditch.

  “For—” She leaned on her horn and caught a brief glimpse of a pair of laughing blue eyes as the car roared past. “Did you see that?”

  “Yes. Stunning car. V-8 engine.” Sean turned his head, almost drooling, but the car was long gone.

  “He almost killed us!”

  “Well, he didn’t. So that’s good.”

  “It was that wretched rock star who moved here last year.”

  “Ah yes. I read an article in one of the Sunday papers about his six sports cars.”

  “I was about to say I don’t understand why one man would need six cars, but if he drives like that then I suppose that’s the explanation right there. He probably gets through one a day.”

  Liza turned the wheel and Sean winced as branches scraped the paintwork.