Page 89 of Did My Love Life Shrink in the Wash?
‘Without leave. I am sorry that he’s having this moment. I like Will. Have you been chatting more?’
‘We’ve been trying. I think. Actually I try not to think about it too much.’
He pushes the buggy back and forth to keep Joe asleep. Mum bundled him up with a sleepsuit, hat and two blankets before we left to shield him from the early winter air and I am immediately jealous. While I love my parka, it was bought on the cheap and without insulation. I snuggle up closer to Dad.
‘Your mum and I used to book in leave when you lot were growing up.’
‘Leave?’
‘Beth, we had four daughters under the age of ten at one point. It was necessary.’
‘I don’t remember…’
‘Your mother made us both a rota.’
‘That seems a bit drastic.’
‘Have you not met your mother? It wasn’t all smooth going though. I walked out on you girls one summer.’ He says this thoughtfully, obviously with some regret.
I sit up, curious, as I have no recollection of this ever happening. ‘You did?’
‘I won’t lie. It wasn’t my proudest moment. I think it had hit peak hormones and in-fighting. They’d changed all the exam marking systems on us, it was the summer the car broke down on the South Circular and your mother made me buy that stupid van.’
I remember that bit. The police had to tow us away after we caused two-mile tailbacks, and then came the van. Mum thought it was cost efficient but by the time we’d all piled out of it, we looked like some musical tribute act, with Dad the leader.
‘I remember that summer. Mum said you went on a DofE trip with your school.’
‘I went walking in the Peak District with my friend, Johnny.’
‘You were gone for weeks,’ I reply, confused, slightly hurt.
‘I did a lot of walking.’
I can just picture him now. It’s Dad’s thing. He’d have worn knee-high socks and a compass around his neck. He’d have drunk a lot of tea, quietly, pensive. He’d have eaten his beloved corned beef which my mother refused to have in the house because it looks like dog food.
‘Oh… But you came back?’
‘Naturally. Your mother didn’t speak to me for a month after. She was glad I’d “got it out of my system” but she was fuming. I was on washing-up duty for six months after that.’
‘And Mum? Did she ever do similar?’
‘Never. Which is why she’s much better than me, always has been. We just don’t say that to her face.’
We both smile. Lucy is still on that climbing frame and other parents look on in dismay. Someone reminds her that the equipment is for people aged twelve and under and she tells them to wind their necks in.
‘I just needed space to see things a bit more clearly. Parenthood has quite a sharp, intense spotlight; it’s stressful. You forget to look after yourself sometimes, to breathe. You’re not a bad person if you need to work out your feelings sometimes, if you don’t do it right all of the time.’
‘You think that’s what Will’s done?’
‘I don’t know, love. You, Ems, Megs and Gracie picked such different partners. All very different to each other and me, I reckon. I am sorry I can’t help more. Lucy told me he wrote you a letter though.’
‘He did but I didn’t read it.’
He goes silent for a moment. ‘Lucy may have taped it back and sent us all a photo of it.’
I swing my head around to hear this. ‘Us?’ I glare over at Lucy, trying to work out ways I could kill her on a slide.
‘Everyone else in the family. It’s a very sincere note. He is very sorry. It explained that he thought there was a way this all should be. Family life, parenthood. How your sisters made it look so easy and how hard he was finding it. He apologised for being selfish and callous with your feelings.’
