The Reunion (19 page)

“I made it up though I’m sure I’m not the first to use
it. I could just as easily have said carrot or sweet potato; onion happened to
be what came out.”

“Carrots and sweet potatoes don’t have layers.”

No, quite true. What a wise man you are, David. Well I’d
better get back to work, see you later.”

There was a concert to look forward to. David called
Bridget to get her to put the date in her diary. They’d already talked about spending
time together over the Christmas holiday period and this would be the first they’d
planned.

Bridget had bad news. On Christmas Eve she would be
heading off to Ireland with her children to visit her aunt. “My cousin phoned
this morning. Her mother’s very poorly and if I want to see her again I’ve got
to do it quickly.”

After offering sympathy he asked the big question. “When
will you be back?”

“I’m going for about week. I’ll be home on the second or
third.”

“So you’ll miss the gig?”

“I’m afraid so.”

Bridget sensed his disappointment and made light of it. “I
know you want to chat about your café and then there’s that other matter. Both
straight after I get back, I promise. What about Rachel, have you decided what
to do?”

He hadn’t even begun to think about it yet. How on earth
would he be able to be open about the risks of, well risks of what? Under age
sex, STDs, contraception, alcohol abuse, drug taking? Past conversations covering
homework, menus and even smoking were trivial in comparison.

“I’m going to ask Jane to join me for this,” he
announced, as much to himself as to Bridget.

“I think that’s the right decision. I hope it goes well.”

Sitting in his car in the driveway, which was emerging as
the favoured venue for thinking things through, he called her and explained
what had happened. She agreed to come over to take part in the evening’s
meeting.

Rachel hadn’t gone to school that day. By the time David
got home she’d showered, cleaned up her bedroom floor, gone to the supermarket,
and cooked dinner. She greeted David with a smile, but there was no apology.
They talked small talk at the dinner table. When Sam had left the room, David
could begin.

“Rachel, we need to discuss last night. It’s a serious
matter and your mother’s joining us.”

“We don’t need her.”

“I do, I’m not sure I can do it alone.”

“What do you mean by ‘it’?”

“Well, all sorts of things.”

As if on cue they heard the front door open and Jane joined
them in the kitchen.

“Hello Rachel.”

Rachel gave her a cursory nod as she sat down.

David began. “We’re all aware that there are family
issues, but I hope we can put those aside for a while to find out from Rachel
what’s going on. Both agreed?” Neither Jane nor Rachel replied so he moved on.

“Firstly, you told me a lie, Rachel. You said you’d be
staying at Hannah’s.”

Rachel admitted that she’d been at her boyfriend Joe’s
house. It was news to David that she had a boyfriend and he expressed deep
concern that she’d spent the night with him.

“Actually his parents were in. I slept in the spare
room.”

David was relieved to hear this but less so when Rachel
continued. “I’m not a child, dad. If his parents had been out I would have been
in his bed.”

Jane’s spoke. “You are a child, Rachel. You should not be
in bed as you put it with a boy at your age.”

“I’m sixteen, it’s legal.”

“That’s not the point. We don’t even know him. Who is
he?”

“Someone at school.”

“Don’t you think it’s important we meet him,” Jane
persisted. “That we at least have the address of where you’re staying?”

“I can’t see what meeting him has got to do with it. He
hasn’t got to be approved by you.”

“You’re wrong. Meeting is important and if I was still
here I wouldn’t allow you to go out with him until we’d met.”

“Well you’re not here. And your obsession with meeting is
absurd. I
have
met Jim, is that supposed to make it easier to know
you’re fucking him?”

David sat back with resignation as a furious Jane let
fly.

“There’s a lot for you to think about, Rachel. For a
start, some respect. Questioning my behaviour coming from you is a bit rich,
I’ve heard all about David getting summoned to school to be told what you’ve
done wrong. After what happened last night if I was your father I wouldn’t
trust you to go out.”

“Thankfully you’re not my father because it’s nice to
have one parent who cares about me.”

“Just you remember everything I’ve done for you, whatever
you’ve asked for you’ve had. That’s true isn’t it, David…No, Rachel, don’t answer
back because I haven’t finished…where do you think you’re going?...I haven’t
finished, come back here this instant…Rachel!”

Jane and David were left alone.

“I was hoping to resolve things a bit more amicably,”
David said.

Jane got up and walked towards the cupboard above the
worktop to the left of the sink. “I need a coffee, would you like one?”

“Yes, why not.”

She opened the unit. It was full of tins of food and jars
of spices. “The mugs have gone,” she declared.

“They haven’t gone, they’ve been moved.”

“Why?”

“I felt like a change. They’re in that cupboard,” he said
pointing, “but the milk’s still in the fridge.”

He hadn’t removed the holiday snap attached to the door;
everyone in it was still smiling. He sat in silence as Jane manufactured two perfect
cappuccinos. She put the milk back in the fridge, pausing to examine the
photograph. “That was a fun holiday wasn’t it. Do you think we’ll get over the
unpleasantness, perhaps do some things as a family?”

He didn’t reply.

“Thanks for asking me over tonight even though it was a
bit of a disaster. I just wish I hadn’t lost my temper.”

David realised he wasn’t bitter about what had happend anymore.
They sat chatting for a while, in agreement that their lawyers had earned
enough money and it was time to sign the financial agreement.

As soon as Jane had left Rachel came downstairs to
apologise to David for walking out. His daughter was changing. In the past,
engulfed in a whirlwind of emotion, she would explode with rage and tears then
show huge remorse when it had subsided. Now, though the apology seemed genuine enough,
she was calm, detached and hardened. She dismissed his attempt to question her
further beyond an acknowledgement that the over-drinking and rudeness to the
police would not be repeated.

David called Bridget and relayed the evening’s events. He
was keen to see her ahead of the trip to Ireland, but it wasn’t going to be
possible – she had too much to organise.

~

The last days at work before a break that would stretch
Bridgetless from Christmas Eve to beyond the New Year were quietly festive. Colleagues
put up streamers and displayed their Christmas cards on their desks and window
sills. David’s office remained bare, but at Jabulani’s insistence he did join
in with mince pie eating and the trip to the pub for lunch on the last day. The
new Mary was at the heart of the festivities. Laughing away, drinking rather a
lot and declaring to cheers that there was no need to return to work for the
rest of the day.

On Christmas morning Sam got his model racing car and
Rachel got a compact camera. David was given a shirt and tie. They then set off
to visit his mother, regarded as an undesirable but necessary duty by all three
of them. She gave the children £20 each and in return received three
handkerchiefs with embroidered flowers on the corners, a bottle of sweet
sherry, a box of chocolates and six luxury mince pies. David went without a
gift from his mother.

“He’s too old to get presents,” his mother claimed when
Rachel questioned her.

“What about you then? You’ve got presents and you’re even
older.”

“That’s different,” was the explanation offered. “Sit in
the lounge and I’ll make tea.”

They stayed overnight and on Boxing Day morning Charlotte
and her family popped in on their way to her husband Donald’s parents. By the
end of her visit David was convinced that the saying ‘blood is thicker than
water’ was false. His sister had little interest let alone sympathy regarding
his separation from Jane. Rachel and Sam fared little better with their two
cousins despite being almost identical ages. Donald sat in sullen silence.

After two cups of tea Charlotte announced that they had
to get going to reach Donald’s parents in time for lunch.

“Great to see you all,” she lied.

“Yes, we must catch up again soon,” David lied in
response.

Lunch consisted of dried out turkey, boiled to near death
brussels sprouts and rock hard roast potatoes. Sam later identified the only
decent thing to be the jar of cranberry sauce. He was usually compliant, but on
this visit he displayed a trait previously unseen by David – sarcasm. ’I can’t
wait for Her Majesty’s speech.’ ‘The Sound of Music, my all-time favourite.’
‘Morecombe and Wise, has there ever been anything funnier?’ This sarcasm passed
over his grandmother’s head. Instead she took great delight in their shared
interests.

Despite the drudgery of the visit they stayed on for a
second night, trapped by the guilt induced by David’s mother. It was dull for
all three of them, but without Bridget there was little urgency for David to
return home. Rachel nagged to leave, but David was adamant they remain, happy
for her to miss opportunities the festive season might provide for getting into
trouble.

On the day after Boxing Day they watched lousy repeat television
programmes, played countless games of cribbage, and once again ate traditional
Christmas Fayre of left-over turkey (as dry as the day before, but now brown as
opposed to white meat); fat-saturated sausages (a depressing new addition);
boiled to near death brussels sprouts (again); and rock hard roast potatoes
(again).

Rachel volunteered to clear up after a lunch. When she
failed to return to the lounge for over an hour, David checked to see if there
was a problem. She was sitting at the formica kitchen table, her chin resting
on her elbows.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m watching the second hand go round,” she said,
pointing to the clock on the wall above the birthday calendar. “It’s the most
exciting thing on offer.”

“Can I join you?” At least he’d made Rachel smile.

When David’s mother was in the kitchen preparing afternoon
tea, he suggested to his children that they should stay on for a further day.

“If you do, I’m getting the train back,” Rachel declared.

“And I’ll reveal my true thoughts about Morecombe and Wise,”
Sam added.

His mother came into the lounge and set the tray down on
the top of a nest of tables. “As soon as we’ve had this I’ll start to get
dinner ready.”

“Sorry grandma, we’ve got to get back tonight. If I don’t
start my coursework I’ll be kicked out of school.”

David relented – he’d had more than enough. “Yes, tea
then I’m afraid we’re off. It’s been a great couple of days though.”

“I’m sure you’ve all got more important things to do than
stay with me.”

“Yes, we have,” said Rachel, mimicking Jane’s method of
tackling the guilt trip.

“Well, everybody except me, Rachel. I went to hear the
music.”

“Do you realise you’re a marked man now with a police
record. Soon you’ll get the sack and no one else will employ you.”

“Very funny. Actually the police were extremely
apologetic about keeping us there for so long, but they wouldn’t let anyone out
before a search. The owners were arrested for dealing.”

“Dealing. You’re even using the right term. I bet you
know all the slang names for the drugs, too. I’m not sure I’d have let you off
if I was the police.”

“Ha-ha.”

“Seriously though, next time you score skunk I’d love
some Black Russian or China White.”

Rachel and David were sitting in the lounge drinking tea;
Sam was in bed. David had called her from the pub a little before midnight to
explain the situation. He told her not to wait up, but not surprisingly
curiosity got the better of her and anyway there was a run of Buffy The Vampire
Slayer episodes to keep her occupied.

“Enough Rachel, go to bed now will you,” David implored. “I’m
exhausted.”

~

Jabulani’s gig had been at the Duchess of Devonshire, a
pub he’d walked by many times. It was a double fronted mock Tudor building,
shabby and run down. On the night of the concert its hanging baskets contained
dead flowers ravaged by frost. A sign promoted the night’s specials – sausage
with mash and cottage pie. Next to that stood a display board informing
potential customers that all Sky Sports Premier League matches were shown and that
while football was on there was a three for the price of two pints offer. A hand-written
note was pinned to the door.
Tonight Kanjarny from Zimbarbwe. Entrance £3.

As he stopped to read it, he was tapped on the shoulder. “Hello
there.”

“Mary! I didn’t know you were coming.”

They stood by the notice. David pointed out that the proper
name of the band was Kanjani. “It means ‘hi there’ Jabulani says.”

“They’re not too hot on the spelling of the country
either,” Mary added.

They laughed as they entered.

Inside the pub there was no evidence of a band. The two
giant TVs were showing a darts match which none of the few customers was
watching. Four boys of questionable drinking age were playing pool while vying
for the attention of the two girls sitting on a bare wooden bench next to the
table. David heard an eczema-faced, greasy-haired youth exclaim ‘me ball’s
tight against the hole again’, followed by an explosion of laughter from the
girls pretending it was a joke of stupendous magnitude.