Page 26 of Things We Never Said
I found a couple of wedding photos, actually, but as they all also featured your mum and Perry looking as miserable as sin, I chose this one. But do hunt them out and have a look because Theresa and Alistair are in there as well, and for some reason it quite cheered me up to see their faces again. I wonder where they are now?
God, the parents were a bit of a nightmare though, weren’t they?
Your dad was laid up with sciatica and your mum was furious, I think, because he wasn’t there. Well, that was the official version, anyway.
We all knew that the truth was simply that they thought I was too common for you, which is unsurprising in a way. My own mother thought that. God,Ithought that!
I think your mum thought I was slutty because I’d got pregnant, too. As if that was something I could do on my own!
Anyway, you know when Mum came with me in the taxi? Well, I know how perfect you’ve always thought she is, but I have to tell you that even she tried to talk me out of getting married until the last possible moment. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’ she kept asking. ‘You don’t have to marry him just because he’s got you up the duff.’ She always had a way with words, my mum. ‘Look at me!’ she said. ‘I had you but didn’tmarrythe guy. Even I knew better than that!’
Unlike your mother, who was angry with me, mine thought it was all your fault, of course. ‘Just because he’s been irresponsible,’ she said. ‘It’s not like we’re living in the fifties anymore. It’s not like he’s never heard of johnnies.’
In the end, I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I told her about Phil. It was meant to shut her up. I told her that I didn’t even know who the father was.
She got upset then about what would happen if you found out. ‘He’ll dump you in a second,’ she told me.
So I lied and said that you knew. I told her that you didn’t care. And that did the trick.
By the time that had sunk in, she had completely changed her mind about you; she had decided that you were the bee’s knees after all!
The ceremony was a bit lacklustre. This was, after all, Wolverhampton Civic Centre, not Canterbury Cathedral. But we didn’t give a damn, did we? We’d made it to the altar, or the registrar’s desk at any rate. We were in our little private bubble of happiness and we didn’t care about any of them.
Afterwards, we went back to the house for our little party. There were quite a few people, though I can only really remember Theresa and Alistair – oh, and that Welsh girl, Bronwen. That tall, bald guy, Dave, was there too, I think, but then he was at all the parties. He was always wherever there was free beer. Alistair soon had music blasting out and everyone got drunk except your mother, but even she didn’t get me down for long.
She complained about the state of the house, I remember, and she was upset that there wasn’t a wedding cake, too. She moaned about the cigarette smoke and the loud music, but we just partied on regardless, dancing around her and Perry, who were looking outraged together in the corner of the room.
At one point, I went over to try to get her involved. I was tipsy (we didn’t worry about drinking when pregnant back then and, thank God, April turned out just fine).
My mum was drunk on Alistair’s home brew, and stoned on Alistair’s joints, too. She was dancing around like a dervish to Dexys Midnight Runners and I felt sorry for your poor mum looking so out of it in the corner, watching everyone dancing. I suddenly wanted us all to be friends.
So I grooved up to her and said something like, ‘Come on, Cynthia, let your hair down a bit. You might as well.’
Now, I’ve never told you this because I knew it would upset you, but you’ve probably always wondered why we got off to such a bad start. Well, your mum didn’t want to be friends, that’s the thing. She said, ‘How dare you call me that. It’s MrsPatrick to you.’
‘Oh,’ I said, thinking that this must be another one of those posh rules I knew so little about.
‘And don’t think I don’t know what you are,’ she said. Her voice was quite unpleasant. It was a sort of snarl, really. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday. I know exactly what you are.’
Theresa, who was watching all of this, swooped in to save me again. She yanked me back to the middle of the room where everyone was whooping and dancing to ‘Come On Eileen’. She leaned into my ear and said, ‘Don’t worry about her. She’s so uptight, she doesn’t even know what letting her hair down means.’
I glanced over at your mum – I was on the verge of tears – and she said something to Perry and pointed at me and Perry laughed.
Mum, who was dancing beside me, had noticed something was up. She leant in between Theresa and me and said, really loudly, ‘She probably hasn’t had a shag since Sean was conceived. That’s her trouble. She just needs a good bonk.’
All three of us fell about laughing.
I’m sorry, Sean, because that was a bit rude, really, wasn’t it? But it was better than me crying all over everyone, I suppose. And we were, after all, very drunk by then.
Anyway, that’s when I realised that your mum and I were never going to be mates. I found that out on my wedding day.
It is Sunday morning and Sean is at work.
He’s alone in the vast open-plan offices of Nicholson-Wallace and is enjoying the eerie silence of the place. Despite it being nearly eleven o’clock, it’s almost dark outside and his desk lamp casts a warm glow across his workspace.
Sean’s behind schedule on a retirement home he’s supposed to be working on. He’s been putting it off, he has just realised, because it reminds him of his mother, and being reminded of his mother makes him feel very angry at the moment.
Actually, thinking about his parents has almost always made him feel angry, but since last week’s tape, that feeling has become even more acute.
