On the first day of my visit home, my mother criticized my marriage, and it turned into a terrible fight which ended with my leaving in the middle of a storm.
I hadn’t been home for a few months. I loved my parents, but being newly married and with a full- time job, I had to commit to developing relationships with others in my new town and support my new husband in securing a place in his company, with his new boss.
Our house was slowly being redecorated, mainly by me, as a sop to Charlie, who had really wanted a new build, so wasn’t as keen on decorating the house. He had wanted it all done for us by the builder. I could see the potential of the larger garden, with established shrubs, an orchard, a greenhouse and a small outbuilding that I could see had housed a still at some point, suggesting that the fruit from the trees might have been made into a brandy, or a moonshine of sorts.
I had arrived early afternoon, so I could have a little time with dad first, before mum came home from her part-time job in the cafe at a local garden centre. I enjoyed chatting with dad, he talked about important things and had a measured and well-informed outlook. We took a cuppa into their greenhouse to make the most of the late autumn sunshine and dad looked at the clouds and wind speed and said, “There is a storm coming in from the east, that’ll mean thunder and high winds. That’ll bring the rest of the leaves off the trees.” We chatted about what this would do to the few remaining flowers in our gardens and then moved on to his volunteering, (local hospital radio) which is never without an amusing incident to recount. We were still laughing when mum came home. She parked in the drive and then opened the back gate, and I could see her dislike of missing out in the tightness of her upper lip. But I took no notice, my time with dad was precious and we were both different when mum was around. We absolutely did not collude, but she changed the dynamic completely.
When we sat down for dinner, I was excited. Mum had been busy and produced chicken and ham lasagne for our evening meal, my favourite – I thanked her and reiterated how much I appreciated it. I explained that meals had become scratch, quick cook, dishes – mixed with the odd takeaway. But that the new kitchen was underway and ready for me to decorate when I got back. She actually tutted! I looked to see her expression. It looked completely serious. I asked her what she meant, expressing dissatisfaction so clearly. She demurred, saying that it was nothing. She tried to exchange a look with dad. He wouldn’t meet her gaze. I let it go. Pick your battles. I had learnt that from my older sister, who has three toddlers under 4. Twins and then another baby 12 months later. I adore them. Not sure if it would be fair if I said that I would rather spend a day with them climbing and clambering all over me than half a day with mum. But it is true. Mum spouts out what she believes to be true at the time, without much reviewing of information except what the ladies at her WKG meetings might have offered in debate. (WKG is a recent innovation, think Women’s Institute, or Townswomen’s Guild who are the predecessors of WKG or Women’s Knowledge Group.) She has been proud to win two quizzes in a team from the village WKG. Dad has wisely said nothing. I definitely find it more difficult.
Today, she pointedly asked how Charlie was getting on. I said he was getting on fine and that we had dinner with his boss last week. “And what type of house do they have?” She asked next. Their house is actually very nice. Their dining space is part of a much larger room that incorporates the kitchen, a snug and the lounge/ drawing room. I felt it was too showy. It echoed and didn’t feel cosy, or warm. Despite a huge log fire that had openings on two sides, to warm the dining area and the sitting area. The chimney came up through the floor in the middle of the room and was very much the focal point of the downstairs. Maisie, the boss’ wife was clearly proud of it, she had a party piece prepared to explain the rationale behind the two-entry fireplace. I don’t remember the punchline, because it was neither funny, nor artful.
Mum seemed to approve, because they had two en-suite bathrooms, meaning that they have a master suite and a guest suite. It would be too much for Charlie and me at our point in life, we need to negotiate the family bit before we move into executive arena. If we do…
We all carried on eating and when the plates were empty, I asked if I could take a piece of the remaining lasagne for Charlie. Mum denied there was any remaining lasagne, which surprised me, but I let it pass. If she wanted to be mean about her cooking, then let her. Mum gathered up the plates and glasses and took them into the kitchen. I gave her a minute or two and then wandered out to the kitchen and filled the kettle. “Tea or coffee?” I questioned mum and then dad and then set the places for two coffees and a tea. Mum brought the cake tin out of the pantry and we went into the sitting room. My parents have never added a conservatory onto their property, but their sitting room looks out over the garden, with floor to ceiling windows and if we want to get a bit of the sun out of the summer months, we can always sit in the greenhouse, like dad and I had earlier.
The room seemed to settle around us, holding its breath. I felt uneasy. Dad was looking shifty.
Mum took a deep breath, sighed and said“Sheena, you know that we wouldn’t interfere in your life, but there are some things that have made us uncomfortable, me, your dad and Sarah need to set the record straight. You need to know that you have been ploughing all of your energy into a relationship that is no more than a shell.”
I spluttered, genuinely aghast. But I could only manage a feeble, “What?”
Mum went on, as if she had rehearsed this, she probably had.
“You should know that on the day of your wedding, Charlie was in a pub with Mark, John, Colin and Robert, being persuaded to turn up for the ceremony. Charlie was going to back out.”
“Your wedding only went ahead because they knew how broken-hearted you would be. And I cannot bear to see how tired you are struggling to keep everything going, when that man is only there in spirit, never as committed as you are.”
I thought that was bad enough, but she went in for the kill.
“There was another woman. She worked in the bank too and they were spotted together at every opportunity.”
“Thanks mum, for blindsiding me like that!” I retorted
“How dare you set yourself up as judge and jury and condemn Charlie. Who isn’t even here to defend himself!”
“Sheena, it was Sarah’s Rob who saw them together and who was in the pub instead of helping Sarah look after their three.”
I vaguely remember Sarah being frazzled and annoyed with Rob but thought it was just family stuff.
I suddenly felt furious. Some of it was with Charlie, who would have a lot of explaining to do when I got hold of him. But a lot of it was aimed, straight as an arrow right at my mother!
I knew that I couldn’t stay here. Not if I wanted to remain sane and not have to go to prison.
I raced up the stairs to get my luggage, only an overnight bag, plus a tote bag full of the things I had been looking forward to getting on with. A magazine, a book, a notebook and a hot water bottle. I took a quick look about the room. I might never be here in this room again. This felt like a pivotal moment. The point at which everything in my life changed. I shoved my overcoat into the bag and scuttled down the stairs again in my slippers. I sat on the bottom stair and tied my walking and gardening boots, with a reinforced toe cap, then dropped the slippers into the bag. My dad was hovering. He pressed a Tupperware box and a thermos flask into my hand. Then took the hot water bottle to refill, he murmured that I would find a use for all of these, nodding to the weather outside.
It was then I became aware of the noisy wind and rain battering against the door. That wasn’t good, my trip home was a picturesque but treacherous drive in fine weather, driving over and around barras and incredible valley bowls. I would just have to be careful.
Sitting behind the wheel, I was overwhelmed suddenly with the enormity of what I had heard and what it might mean for my future. I decided not to let Charlie know I was on my way home, he would be able to talk me round and come up with excuses for everything and I needed to let it brew for a while.
After I had cried and sobbed for the first hour of the drive. I began to wonder if it was worth being careful. It would be so convenient for everyone if I had an accident on the road. If I disappeared, only my dad would miss me. I realised that I was feeling sorry for myself, and I was so tired and defeated, it was better to pull into a sheltered part of the road, below a hill and around a bend and rest. My life wasn’t over, just because my husband was less than enthusiastic about being married than I was.
I turned off the engine and slipped into the back seat, pulled on the sleeping bag that I always kept in the boot, cuddled the hot water bottle and sobbed myself to sleep. What would the world look like tomorrow?
