Page 35 of A Good Mother
The pale yellow sand was dotted with walkers, yappy dogs, blobs of seaweed and a couple of brave souls taking an early morning dip. It was just gone 10am and already the sun was warming her face and as she closed her eyes, Babs breathed in the sea air and listened to the obligatory sounds of seagulls overhead. Today was going to be a good day.
‘Do you want your muffin?’ Demi gave Babs a nudge and was holding out the paper bag containing their breakfast feast.
Dipping her hand inside she pulled out the blueberry delight as Demi did the same and for the next few minutes they ate and people, dog and bird-watched in amiable silence until Demi asked a question.
‘When are you starting work again?’
Babs puffed her cheeks and sighed, the whooshing sound as air left her lungs surprised even herself, like an audible clue to how she really felt at the prospect. ‘I’ve got two clients booked in. Some haven’t got back to me yet. They’re probably a bit torn between having a potential germ-spreader in their home and wanting their house clean and germ-free. Imagine the dilemma.’
Demi raised her eyebrows, picking up on her mum’s sarcasm. ‘So, I take it you’re not looking forward to going back to work, then.’
‘Not really, love. But I reckon there’s lots of people feel the same way, but I need to earn a living. Simple as that.’
‘I’m really going to miss you being at home, and our walks and exercise routine. It’s been fun.’ Demi continued to eat, her legs crossed, her eyes focused on the horizon.
Touched by Demi’s words, Babs could feel a lump forming in her throat. For the past few months she’d thought Demi was just humouring her or joining the online classes out of boredom.
‘Well, I have to say that’s made my day, and so has this muffin.’
Demi laughed, then became serious. ‘Why aren’t you looking forward to it? You love your job and you’ve never complained and, let’s face it, you can moan about everything lately, especially Dad.’
This observation took the wind out of Babs’ sails. Was sheturning into the grumpiest Mum in the world? Choosing to gloss over the ‘Dad’ comment Babs focused on work.
‘Iusedto like it. Some clients more than others but over the years I’ve wheedled the annoying ones out so now I’ve got nice houses and nice people to clean for. I can’t say it’s my dream job though, or something I thought I’d end up doing. I suppose I just get on with it for a quiet life.’ Babs put the last of the muffin in her mouth and chewed it and her words.
‘So why don’t you change your job then?’
Demi had turned to face Babs. She was being scrutinised which made her nervous and also, a bit ashamed by the truth of the matter.
‘But what would I do? I’ve been a mum all my life and the qualifications I have just about got me into college to train as a nursery nurse. I only went there one day a week. The other four days were spent wiping bums and toddlers tears so not exactly a scintillating CV. Unless you add being a dinner lady, which I bloody loved by the way, and my current career.’
‘So why did you stop being a dinner lady if you loved it?’ Demi brushed her hair from her eyes and focused them on her mum.
Babs sighed. ‘Money. Simple as that. It didn’t pay enough, and we wanted to move house, so I got a job with a cleaning agency. Then the owner moved away and left her workers and clients in the lurch, so me and a couple of the other girls went solo. It fitted in with home-life and at first, I enjoyed being my own boss. Told myself I was running my own little empire.’
‘You are. But what now?’
Babs chuckled at her own delusions of grandeur then shuffled, her bum was aching a bit, and she wondered how honest she should be with her daughter. Demi didn’t need to hear how fed up she was. Then again…
‘I hate it.’ There, she’d said it, and before she lost the courage or the audience who for once, was actually listening, expanded on life in the World of Babs.
‘I can’t put my finger on what it is, who or what to blame for how I feel inside. But it’s like all the things I accepted as part of my lot, aren’t acceptable anymore which, as you just pointed out, makes me complain all the time. My age, the flaming menopause to be precise, isn’t helping my mood swings which are worse than the pirate ship at the fair. The one Sasha was sick on, remember?’
The atmosphere lifted when they both convulsed into laughter, the carnage caused when a hot dog and a stick of giant candy floss made a reappearance all over the heads of anyone sat afore Sasha on the good ship Vomit. Never had Babs felt so ashamed when all the people got off, picking carrots out of their hair.
But as soon as it arrived, the mirth quickly vanished as Babs admitted how she felt. ‘I just get so angry, Demi. About everything. I even get angry with myself for being angry. I hate the sound of my voice when I moan about three pairs of trainers being dumped in the hall and then I shout at myself for making a song and dance over nothing.’ There was a lapse, while Babs calmed herself and held in the scream that would scare the birds and everyone on the beach if it escaped.
Her calming app advised that in these situations, she should breathe in for three, out for six, and one more time for good luck.
‘I’m sorry, love, for the moaning and if you think I’m grumpy with you and your dad. So I’ll try to keep a lid on it.’
‘Mum, there’s no need to apologise. It gets on my nerves how everyone takes you for granted especially Sasha who is a lazy cow, and our Isaac is just an embarrassment. I mean seriously, he’d rather live in a box room, with his girlfriend than get a place of his own! It’s a joke.
‘And it gets on my nerves how Dad just expects. I mean I love him to bits I really do but he’s got it so cushy. It’s like the whole house revolves around him and he’s got you train–’ She stopped, her voice trailing off as one does when they put their foot in it.
‘Go on, he’s got me what? Trained.’
Babs felt the sting of tears and shame and wished it was colder so she could blame her watery eyes on the weather. Feeling the urge to walk, Babs stood and picked up the paper bag then set off along the beach trying to squash down the ball of hurt in her chest.
