Page 87 of Where Do We Go From Here?
‘A scene? Why would there…? Oh, you mean with your father? Of course there won’t be a scene.’
‘So yeah, he wants you at the wedding?—’
‘Yes, yes!’ Wendy says impatiently. ‘I’ll be there. I’ll phone him and discuss it all.’
‘But he wants you to be sober.’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘He only wants you there if you’re sober, Mum. If you’re not drinking at all. That’s what he said.’
‘I… He…What?’
‘He – Todd…’
‘No, I heard you, Fiona. But why are you – why is he saying this? Is she… is it… I don’t know, is she teetotal? Is it a religious thing?’
Fiona laughs at this. ‘No. Quite the opposite, really.’
‘The opposite?’
‘Yeah, that’s why he’s worried. The reception’s in a pub and there’s going to be a free bar. And you know what you’re like when there’s a free bar.’
‘But I don’t understand… And no, I don’t knowwhat I’m like. I don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.’
‘OK, well, have a think about it, Mum, and you’ll work it out. And if you still can’t work it out then talk to Todd because frankly I feel I’ve gone above and beyond the call of duty here. Plus I really do have to go now, OK? Or I’m going to miss my flight.’
‘Sweetie!’ Wendy protests. ‘You can’t just drop this on me and waltz off!’
But Fiona is pecking her on the cheek and spinning on one heel, now laying her boarding pass on the scanner and pushing through the turnstile. Then, with only the briefest of glances back and a flutter of fingertips over her shoulder, she is gone.
The taxi home is ridiculously expensive but Wendy doesn’t notice. On arrival at the cabin, she puts her credit card into the man’s reader and types her PIN code without even checking the amount. She might have authorised a 1,000-euro payment rather than the 190 euros the cab actually cost.
Mittens is waiting by the front door for food, and this, too – the washing and filling of the bowl – Wendy does in a trance.
She can’t believe what’s just been said to her, nor the lackadaisical way the message was delivered. What a spineless so-and-so Todd is! Imagine asking your younger sister to tell your mother you’re getting married! And that ‘You know what you’re like’. The phrase keeps running through her mind. She can imagine Todd and Fiona discussing it. Perhaps even Harrywas there as well.You know what Mum’s like. No way we can trust her with a free bar.
As if she’s ever made a scene. As if any of them have ever seen her drunk! Seriously, how dare they! What is wrong with everyone?
She glances through the window and sees Mittens looking in, clearly hoping for a second helping. But Wendy’s not in the mood, and when she stares right back he seems to get the message. She watches him blink, avert his gaze, then finally saunter off.
She sighs deeply. She inspects the knuckles of her left hand and rubs them with her other thumb.Madness!she thinks.The whole thing is utter madness.
She stares into the distance waiting for some kind of useful thought to crystallise. But when a thought finally anchors itself in her mind, it’s not particularly useful.Fuck them!is the only thing that comes to mind.Really!
She stands and crosses to the kitchen where, after a hunt for the missing corkscrew, she opens a fresh bottle of Chardonnay.Yes!she thinks.Fuck them all.
Wendy: I suppose you’re in on all of this?
Harry: Wendy? Hello?
W: Hi. Well, are you? In on all of this?
H: Oh, sorry, I thought that was a pocket dial or something. I seem to have missed the beginning of the conver?—
W: Just answer the bloody question, Haz.
H: …
