Page 146 of Where Do We Go From Here?
Wendy glances across at Harry now. His eyes are closed, but he’s smiling, and she can’t tell if he’s dreaming happy dreams or listening.
‘You hardly danced at all.’
‘I did, a bit,’ Wendy protests.
‘Like, once. Maybe twice.’
‘OK, that might be true.’
‘Too sober?’
‘Yes, totally sober.’
‘My friend Joe can’t dance when he drives us places,’ Fiona says. ‘You know, when he’s the designated driver? He says it’s impossible.’
‘Yes, it does feel hard. I’m not sure why.’
They drive on in silence for another half an hour, with only the thrum of the engine and noise of the wind and the road, the light from the orange street lamps sweeping through the cabin. As she drives, Wendy tries to get her brain around the idea that her baby boy is married. It seems unreal. It feels like only yesterday he was learning to walk.
Just as Wendy is guessing that Fiona has also fallen asleep and is considering switching on the radio for company, her daughter speaks.
‘So in the spirit of not being stingy with compliments,’ she says, ‘you do know I’m impressed, right?’
‘I’m sorry?’ Wendy says.
‘God, I knew you’d make me say it twice. I’m proud of you, Mum.’
‘Proud of me? For what?’
‘Because you’ve really changed, haven’t you? You really got your act together.’
‘Oh,’ Wendy says, glancing back. ‘Well, thank you! And I’m proud of you, too.’
‘You know, we never thought you’d stop drinking. Todd and me, that is. We were going to place a bet, but we couldn’t because we both wanted to bet you wouldn’t stop.’
‘Gosh!’ Wendy says, pulling a face. ‘OK.’
‘It must be hard, though.’
‘It’s not easy, I’ll admit.’
‘So, what happened in France?’ Fiona asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you were completely different when you came back. You didn’t have a fling, did you? I kind of wondered if that was it.’
Wendy shoots her daughter a look of consternation and then glances over at Harry, whose mouth has fallen open.
‘God, I forgot Dad was even there,’ Fiona says. ‘Sorry.’
Wendy laughs genuinely at this. ‘Don’t be,’ she says. ‘And no, I didn’t have a fling at all. I just… I don’t know… I took the time to look at things, I suppose. And I made friends with that girl, Manon. She helped me a lot.’
‘Really?’ Fiona says. ‘How so?’
‘I don’t know,’ Wendy says thoughtfully. ‘By being honest with me, I think. By connecting.’
‘OK,’ Fiona says. ‘Fair enough.’ Then, ‘You were chatting to Amanda’s mum for ages. You must have been out there for, like, an hour.’
