Page 45 of Things We Never Said
He wishes above all, he realises, that he was young again. He lights his cigarette and watches geese as they take off and land, their wings whipping the water.
He’s feeling restless. Days like this have always made him want to leave.
He once read an article about Aboriginal Australians and how they would get up one morning and head off on walkabout, sometimes not returning for months, and this is exactly how Sean felt when he was younger, specifically on summer mornings like today. Yes, despite the fact that he loved his wife and daughter and despite the fact that he enjoyed his job, there have always been days when Sean felt an almost biological urge to go walkabout.
He remembers driving to work wondering what would happen if he didn’t turn off the ring road – what would happen if he just carried on driving? If he headed south, he could drive to Dover and stick the car on a ferry across the Channel. And then what? Would he head south to Spain, or east towards Russia? How far would he get before his credit card ran out?
He had resented Catherine on those days. He had (while still loving her) hated her for being the reason he couldn’t leave, for being the reason that his life was so adventure-free.
But today he is free, isn’t he? No one is waiting for him, nobody cares what Sean does anymore.
The woman tips her head back and laughs at something the young man has said, and Sean wonders how long it is since he last laughed. She leans in and kisses him, then nervously looks around as if kissing is perhaps a crime.
She smiles at Sean, then winks, and he forces a smile back. Then, embarrassed, he stubs his cigarette out on the underside of the railings and stands. He drops the cigarette butt in a litter bin, then returns to his car.
As he opens the car door, his phone vibrates, so he pulls it from his pocket and checks the screen. It’s showing an SMS from Perry saying he can’t attend to their mother this weekend and can Sean please go instead? Sean sighs deeply, replies,Sure. No worries, I’ll go Saturday, and slips the phone back into his pocket.
You wanted to drive somewhere, he thinks.
He climbs into the car, puts on his seat belt. He starts the engine; he glances one last time towards the couple on the houseboat but they have both vanished inside. He pulls gently away.
When he reaches the roundabout, he heads not south towards Dover but north across the Elizabeth Way, towards work.
‘Sorry, Catherine,’ he murmurs. ‘It wasn’t your fault at all.’
The reason Sean never left was not, it transpires, because Catherine and April had stopped him leaving, after all. Perhaps there was a little cowardliness about him that made adventure difficult; perhaps there was a certain lack of imagination, an inability to take risks in his genetic make-up, that had kept him here. But mainly, he realises, it was that everything he really wanted had been here in Cambridge.
His vision is blurring now. He sniffs and wipes away the tears with the back of his hand. Yes, even now that he’s free, he doesn’t want to leave. Even now, all he wants is another twenty years with Catherine.
Snapshot #14
35mm format, colour. A young man poses for the camera. He is wearing a black gown and a mortar board. He is holding a rolled certificate and blushing deeply.
The results had been published in June, and Sean had received his employment contract at the beginning of July. He and Catherine had spent a final heavenly, lazy month in Wolverhampton celebrating and saying goodbye to everyone, before loading their things into a friend’s battered Transit van and heading off to Cambridge where they had rented their first flat. It had been small – just one bedroom – and underground; it was shabbily furnished and surrounded by roads, like living in the middle of a roundabout really, but it had been theirs. It was their first ever private home.
It had been raining when they left Wolverhampton and sunny when they arrived in Cambridge and, despite April’s screaming, Sean had taken this as a good omen. But Catherine had been jumpy and strange, which was no doubt why April was so fractious, too. Yes, Catherine had been sad and irritable, and her strange mood had lasted well into September. Sean had hoped that things would improve soon, because coming home from an exhausting day at a new and stressful job only to find a grumpy wife and a screaming child was seriously starting to test his nerves.
Graduation day had been mid-September, and Sean had not been particularly motivated to attend. He’d been at the beginning of his career, and money, time and energy were tight. He also felt that he had already moved on from Wolverhampton; he felt as if his college years lived in the distant past. But Catherine, who seemed desperate to get out of Cambridge, insisted.
Sean had spent the whole week leading up to it worrying about his parents. He had really hoped that they wouldn’t come at all but, just like at the wedding, Perry had driven his mother and, just like at the wedding, they had both sulked all day. Sean’s mother had even worn the same dress. It had felt like an unwanted rerun.
Cassette #14
Hi Sean.
I didn’t think I’d be able to use this one as we have it framed in the lounge, but apparently we have two copies, so here it is again. My darling baby Sean in the silliest hat that ever existed.
You were so embarrassed about that hat, but I was as proud as I could possibly be. Actually, you weren’t just embarrassed about the hat – I don’t think you wanted to go to the ceremony at all, but as far as I was concerned, it was non-negotiable.
I was struggling with Cambridge – I hadn’t settled at all – and I was gagging to see all our old friends one last time, too. But, beyond that, the fact that you had studied for four whole years, the fact that you were now a trained architect, these were amazing achievements as far as I was concerned. These were events thatrequiredsome kind of ceremony.
Perry and your mum came again, which was unfortunate because they, of course, did everything they could to ruin the day.
We stayed in the old house with Alistair and Donna (Donna, being younger, still had her final year to do, and Alistair was still painting those horrible pictures in the loft). So we got to stay up late drinking and listening to music with Alistair while Donna slept with April, and for the first time in my life, I felt nostalgic. For the first time ever, I felt that I had lost something valuable. Even April seemed to agree. She too seemed happier in Donna’s arms than in Cambridge.
At the ceremony, we saw Theresa and Bronwen and Sarah and just about everyone else. They all had their parents in tow, which made them behave differently than usual. Everyone was uptight and on their best behaviour, but no one could have been more uptight than the Patricks.
They turned up together, Perry with one of his girlfriends – I don’t even remember her name, there were so many of them – and your mother looking like someone had just slapped her around the face. I don’t think sixty seconds passed before Perry upset you. As far as I recall, your mother asked about your new job – she seemed to be trying, for once, to be enthusiastic about something – and then Perry asked you how much you earned, and pulled a face and said that, of course, you were bound not to earn that much with a degree from Wolves Poly. ‘If you’d gone to Cambridge like you were supposed to, you’d be earning double that,’ he said.
