Page 83 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘Honey… it’s… Look, it’s kind of like you said the other day. This isn’t your role. To play marriage counsellor or whatever. You’re our daughter.’
‘Well, someone has to bang your heads together,’ Fiona says.
‘That’s as may be. But that person isn’t you.’
‘Then see someone,’ Fiona says. ‘See an actual marriage counsellor.’
‘Well, your father would have to want to do that as well.’
‘He would. I’m sure he would.’
‘I think we both know he wouldn’t.’
‘You keep saying I know things when I don’t know them at all.’
‘OK. Well, he’d have to… Look, I really don’t think we should be talking about this. It isn’t appropriate.’
‘And there was me thinking we were finally having an honest conversation for once,’ Fiona says. ‘Fine. Whatever. Let’s just talk about the weather.’
‘Sweetie,’ Wendy protests. ‘Please don’t do this.’
‘Really. It’s fine,’ Fiona says, turning to look out of the window. ‘Forget it. We can go back to not talking aboutanything important the way we always do in this family. Cos that’s been working so well for us all, hasn’t it?’
Wendy sighs deeply. She licks her lips as she forms then abandons various phrases in her head.
‘OK,’ she finally says, ‘You want an honest conversation?’
‘Idreamof an honest conversation,’ Fiona says.
‘OK, what the hell? Why don’t you start by stopping all this pretence that you don’t know what’s going on back home. And then I can stop pretending I don’t know, too. That would be a great start if you want honesty.’
‘What’s going on at home…’ Fiona repeats flatly.
‘I’m assuming you’ve met her, have you? So stop pretending you’re all innocent and have no idea why we are where we are with all of this.’
Fiona does not reply to this and when Wendy glances across she sees her daughter red faced, wide eyed and chewing her lip… She looks like she might burst into tears.
‘I’m sorry,’ Wendy says, as she turns off the main road onto their track. ‘But as you can see, honesty’s not the easy option after all, is it?’
Wendy parks the car and they sit silently for a moment listening to the metallic clicking of the cooling engine, both wondering if the other is about to speak and trying to guess what it is they’ll say. But eventually, realising that Fiona isn’t going to speak, Wendy opens her door and says, ‘Right, let’s get that kettle on!’
As they round the corner of the cabin they find Mittens sitting on the wall and for the first time ever he doesn’t run away.
‘Someone wants his dinner,’ Wendy says. Fiona does not reply.
Indoors, Fiona heads for the bathroom, so Wendy busies herself making tea and forking cat food into a bowl.
‘Here,’ she says, when her daughter returns. ‘You give it to him. I think he likes you better.’
Without a word, Fiona takes the bowl and places it outside for the cat. On returning, she scoops the teabag from her cup and drops it in the sink, adds milk and heads to the base of the stairs. ‘I think I’m gonna have a lie-down,’ she says.
‘Have you got the hump with me?’ Wendy asks, and Fiona pauses and looks back just long enough to say, ‘No, Mum. No, not at all. I’m just tired.’
Wendy sits sipping her tea, listening to Fiona fidgeting on the bed up in the mezzanine, and watching Mittens wolf down his food.
She’s feeling stressed and is gagging for a glass of wine. She even glances behind her to look at the open bottle sitting on the kitchen counter. But she fears she couldn’t cope with another round of reproach from her daughter and so she continues to sit and sip her tea until she’s sure that Fiona has settled, whereupon she heads for the bathroom, silently swiping the bottle of Bordeaux from the counter as she passes by.
This is utterly ridiculous, she thinks as she sits on the toilet lid swigging at the wine.Still, she’ll be gone tomorrow. She feels guilty at the sense of relief this thought provides.Maybe I am a loner, she thinks.Maybe I truly can’t put up with anyone anymore.
