Page 51 of The Notecard
‘That’s what I wanted to talk about, Mum. You and Dad. What’s going on? I thought after his birthday that you’d get back together or at least start dating again.’
I look across at Dad and he looks sick. Worried. Nervous. As white as a sheet. Poor Dad. I really hope this goes well. I look back at Mum. She’s in our old garden, drinking wine, and as soon as I mention Dad, her face changes.
‘I’m sorry again for what happened on your Dad’s birthday, Megs. You shouldn’t have seen that.’
Dad fondling her breast once again flies through my mind. The horror.
‘It’s fine, Mum. I’m just confused.’
‘You’re confused,’ says Mum, and then she does one of those overly dramatic laughs. ‘I honestly don’t know what’s going on. I think that most of this is about me wanting your dad to be different. He’s never been the sort of bloke to show off, or make big romantic gestures, but I thought that at some point he might. That’s the thing, Megs, even if we don’t always say it, or tell them, we all want a bit of a romance now and then, you know?’
I agree, and Mum takes a sip of her wine.
‘I love your dad, of course I do, but I can’t go through the rest of my life, slowly boring myself to death. I want fun, adventure, a bit of passion from time to time. Holidays abroad. Sunshine. With you and Laura gone, it’s just us, and I want to enjoy the next whatever years we have left. That’s all, Megs. I’d like to think that we’ll occasionally get to fly business class because for the longest time, we’ve been flying economy, and it’s fine, you know, but then at some point in your life, you realise that maybe you want a bit of first class.’
She’s really dragging out the flying metaphor. Mum starts crying. A few tears leak out and down her face. She wipes them away with the back of her hand. She says sorry, but that it’s been really hard, and she doesn’t like being by herself. She just wants Dad to realise how important she is, and to make a bit of an effort. That’s all she wants, a bit of an effort.
I look across at Dad and he has tears in his eyes too. He wipes them clear, and then he stands up. He looks determined. He looks like he’s going to do something. I look back at Mum and give her a supportive smile.
Nick
Mum and Michael are here, and Rob is asleep on the sofa. He ate the bacon sandwich, drank half the coffee, then fell asleep. I don’t know what to do with him. I’ve been busy working on the roast lamb. Michael brought a bottle of red wine, which Mum is pouring into glasses. I told them to ignore Rob, pretend he isn’t here, but it’s hard because he’s snoring loudly.
‘Isn’t Fee going to be worried?’ says Mum.
‘Hopefully Rob wakes up before then, and we can get him home in one piece,’ I say.
She passes me the wine. We say cheers and clink our glasses together. I tell Mum and Michael to sit at the table while I finish the roast lamb. The lamb has been resting for thirty minutes, the roast potatoes are out, the vegetables are done, and I just need to make the gravy. Unlike Mum, who always made gravy from scratch, I’m using granules. I’m not that accomplished yet. I can perform a tracheostomy with my eyes closed, but making gravy from scratch eludes me.
‘How’s work?’ shouts Mum.
‘Busy,’ I shout back.
‘Any word on the Nottingham job?’
‘Not yet.’
I’m tense about the Nottingham job. I should hear soon. I’m still conflicted about it. If I get it, I’ll take it, but it means moving my whole life (admittedly not much to uproot in reality) to Nottingham. That will be where I live. Nottingham. When people say, where do you live? I won’t say London, I’ll say Nottingham. It doesn’t sound like much, but I grew up in London. It’s my home. It’s where I always thought I’d end up. Yet if I get the job, I’ll be in Nottingham. A new role at a new hospital. A new life with new friends. It’s daunting. I moved a lot during training. Being a junior doctor is a nomadic life and not for the fainthearted. But this is different. For a start, it wasn’t my choice where to go while I was training. I was told to report to a new hospital, and I did. It was all part of the training cycle. But this is different because it’s my choice and becoming a consultant means hopefully a long-term position. Is Nottingham the right choice for me? Is it where I want to live for the foreseeable future? Am I making a bold life choice or just running away?
The food is ready, and I bring it across to the table.
‘It looks good,’ says Mum. ‘Doesn’t it look good, Michael?’
‘It does,’ says Michael, who is looking different these days.
The scraggly beard has been trimmed and looks neat and distinguished. He’s had a haircut, and he’s wearing smarter clothes. Today he’s in some fairly new looking dark blue jeans, a grey shirt, and black shoes. It seems Mum has transformed him. I wonder what their news is.
‘Is he alright?’ says Mum, nodding towards the sofa.
‘Yeah, he just had a bit of a wobble,’ I say. ‘Fee’s not pregnant yet, but as I told him, it's early days. I’m sure they’ll be fine.’
We tuck into the food and I’ve surprised myself. It’s good. The lamb is especially moist and tender. It isn’t as good as Mum’s though. We eat. It’s quiet except for the chewing of food. The mint sauce runs into the gravy. I have a spoon. I take a bit and drink it. Childhood.
‘How’s things with you?’ I say to Mum and Michael after a few minutes.
A few furtive glances between them. Is it time to tell him the news? It is. Mum puts down her knife and fork. Michael takes a sip of wine. We prepare ourselves.
‘So,’ says Mum. ‘As I said, we have some news…’
