Mum’s the Word

Chapter 6

After supper, while Matt helped clear away and Jack filled the dishwasher, Susie picked up Milo’s lead. Milo and Susie went back a long way. He predated Robert and the cottage and had outlasted by several years the boyfriend who’d bought him as a present for Susie because he thought Milo was cute and Susie was cuter. It seemed a lifetime ago now, but Milo had been there for her through thick and thin, a gentle, amiable, non-judgemental companion who loved her exactly the way she was. He knew the score and without a word padded over to her, eager for an amble round the common. Tail wagging, he sat down at her feet ready for the off.

Matt too, although obviously not the sitting or the wagging bit.

‘Fancy some company?’ he asked, sliding the last of the dirty dishes onto the countertop. ‘It’s a lovely evening for a walk.’

‘Perfect if you’re into sniffing and weeing up trees,’ added Susie on Milo’s behalf.

‘Whatever floats your boat,’ said Matt, scratching the mongrel behind the ears. Milo wagged appreciatively. The dog was such a tart.

‘I thought you were going to get on with the floor?’

‘Mañana.’

Susie laughed. ‘I thought you were working in Italy not Spain.’

‘I think you’ll find the mañana principle is pretty much universal.’

On the other side of the kitchen, Jack groaned. ‘Oh that’s right, bloody typical, the three of you bugger off and leave me with all the clearing up.’

Susie smiled and slipped on her walking shoes. ‘See, there is a god. I knew that one day all those years of running around after you would pay off and there would be a break-even point. You should have cleaned your room up, come home on time and not bitten your sister. It’s karma.’

‘Where are we going?’ asked Matt, rolling down his shirtsleeves.

She turned her attention to him. ‘You can only come with me if you promise not to give me a lecture on the nature of relationships, ask how I am or try to counsel me. Oh, or mention getting in touch with your inner woman.’

Matt mimed pain. ‘Owwwww.’

‘I’m serious. The paella was wonderful; I really appreciate your cooking. I’ve had an excellent day after a difficult start and if at all possible I’d like to keep it that way.’

Matt mimed lip-zipping.

It was tempting fate.

Susie had barely snapped Milo’s lead on when the phone rang. She decided to ignore it and continued on her way outside, Milo dancing behind her, Matt meandering.

‘Phone,’ called Jack, as if she might have missed it.

‘It’s okay – the machine will get it, and if it’s important they’ll ring back,’ said Susie, over one shoulder. And if it was Robert she didn’t want him to think she was sitting at home pining, waiting for him to call.

Jack didn’t listen. When she was halfway down the garden path, he appeared, hurrying after her, phone clutched tight against his chest. ‘Mum?’

‘Take a message, I’ll ring them later.’

‘It’s Alice.’

‘I’ll be half an hour.’

‘She said it was urgent.’

‘Is it ever anything else?’ said Susie, turning on her heel and grabbing the phone out of his hand. ‘Alice,’ she snapped. ‘I don’t know what it is you want, darling, but I’m just going out, I won’t be long. I’ll ring you back in half an hour. All right?’

‘No, no, it’s not all right,’ snuffled Alice. And then there was a split second’s pause, followed by a great wailing sob. Susie winced. Trust Alice to turn the tables on her. The one time in her life that she was being as assertive and as grumpy as her only daughter and Alice had to trump her ace.

Jack was right, it had to be something serious. Since she’d been a little girl Alice had hardly ever cried unless there was a furry animal involved. As a teenager she’d been banned from watching Animal Hospital in order to save Scandinavian pine forests from being pulped into tissue, not to mention going to school the next day with eyes so swollen that the school nurse had suggested she might be suffering from some sort of nasty allergy.

At the far end of the line the wailing was slowly easing down to a snotty miserable sob.

‘Oh Alice – is it the baby?’

‘No, no –’ sobbed Alice. ‘The baby’s fine.’

‘It’s not Mr Tiddles, is it?’ asked Susie gently.

Matt peered at her; Susie covered the receiver. ‘Next door’s cat,’ she mouthed.

At the far end of the line the wail rose by an octave.

‘Oh honey, I’m so very sorry, I know how much you loved him,’ said Susie, ‘but you said yourself he was old and frail and a bit smelly.’

‘That’s Harry.’

‘Harry?’

‘Mr Tiddles’ owner, and besides it’s not the cat, Mum, and anyway I’m not letting him in the flat now that I’m pregnant. I’m feeding him on the landing wearing Marigolds.’

‘Are we talking about Mr Tiddles or Harry?’

‘It’s not funny. They carry something nasty.’

‘In Mr Tiddles’ case he’s carrying about a stone and a half of tinned pilchards and way too much full-cream milk. I’ve told you before it’s not good for him.’

‘I don’t mean fat, Mother, I mean toxoplasmosis. It can be dangerous for pregnant women. It’s just not worth taking the risk. You never take anything I say seriously, do you?’ Alice growled.

‘Alice, of course I do. Now please tell me, what’s the matter?’ she asked gently. ‘It’s not like you to get upset.’

At which point Alice started to sob again.

‘Oh come on, darling, please,’ murmured Susie. ‘What is it? It’s all right, you can tell me.’

Alice sniffed. ‘It’s Adam.’

Susie felt her heart lurch. ‘Adam? Oh no, oh, Alice, why didn’t you say so to begin with – what happened? Is he all right?’

‘No,’ Alice sobbed. ‘No, he’s not all right, not all right at all. Oh Mum, it’s awful. What on earth am I going to do?’

‘Oh my god, has there been an accident?’ Susie asked anxiously, while her imagination ran amuck with chainsaws, knitting needles, sharp scissors, elderly cats, stairwells, motorways and uncovered manholes in a graphic collage of carnage. ‘What’s the matter with him, Alice?’

‘He’s a moron, Mum, a complete moron and an insensitive, stupid pig and I hate him.’

Susie stopped mid-panic, her imagination scuttering to a halt clutching a badly wired plug and a huge screwdriver. ‘What?’

‘Adam. He’s a complete bastard.’

‘He’s not had an accident?’

‘No,’ said Alice derisively, ‘of course he hasn’t had an accident. What on earth made you think that? No, but the thing is, since I’ve been pregnant he’s just being so unreasonable. I never realised what a totally insensitive person he is.’

Milo sighed, lay down on the flagstones and closed his eyes. Matt took the hint and made his way back towards the house. Susie sat down on the garden bench and repositioned the phone to get herself comfortable. ‘As long as he’s all right, that’s the main thing.’

‘It’s not the main thing at all – I knew you’d take his side,’ growled Alice. ‘He’s driving me mad, Mum.’

‘I’m not taking his side, Alice. The thing is, a lot of men feel threatened when their partner gets pregnant. It’s a well-known phenomenon; it’s a big thing to take responsibility for someone so tiny, for the two of you –’

‘I’m not asking him to take responsibility, I can do that myself.’

Susie sighed and waded back into the fray. ‘The thing is, Alice, some men get terribly worried about how having a family is going to change their lives, they are worried that they’ll get left out – they –’

‘Please, Mum,’ Alice said testily, ‘I have read the books.’

‘Well, then you should understand how he’s feeling, try and reassure him – try –’

‘Mum, this is not about Adam’s ego or him feeling left out, all right?’

‘Then what is it about, Alice? I can’t remember you being this upset since Rolf said they’d have to put Honey the three-legged golden Labrador to sleep.’

‘Sunny View Nursery.’

‘What?’

‘Sunny View Nursery. The thing is, it’s the place to go and we’re right on the edge of the catchment area here, and all I said to Adam the other morning was that we really ought to get the baby’s name down now. I mean. it’s only sensible, and once we’ve got a place they automatically take siblings, even if we moved. It’s just perfect, I could walk if I wanted to, not that I would of course, but I could – I want to be certain of getting the baby in there as soon as possible. It’s a feeder nursery for the best primary school in this area. I’ve been looking at the league tables. Surely you of all people can understand the value of a good education?’

Susie wasn’t sure exactly what to say, but apparently Alice wasn’t expecting a reply.

‘And then he insisted on having Brie when we went out to supper – insisted! What does that say about the man? I said have you got any idea about the dangers of listeria? A few crumbs, a microbe carried home on that peculiar sweater he likes that his mum gave him for Christmas. Designer my arse. I mean, what does it take to make him understand? This is our child’s life we’re talking about, for god’s sake. And then he brought me over a glass of red wine, said it would do me good, help me relax. He said I was getting myself in a bit of a tizz. A tizz? How patronising is that? Well, honestly, Mum, I can tell you now I was livid. Anyway, when we got home I went straight upstairs and Googled the latest reports about foetal alcoholic abuse for him to take a look at, and he said I was overreacting, that they meant binge-drinking not one glass, and I said it was a slippery slope. And then this morning I was just saying that I thought two years was a nice gap and maybe he should think about giving up his guitar lessons – I mean, Adam’s never going to be an Arctic Monkey. And maybe the money would be better used elsewhere – I mean, I was just saying. In conversation.’

There was a short pause, presumably while Alice took on more oxygen, and then she said, ‘So what do you think?’

‘What do I think about what, Alice?’ Susie asked cautiously.

‘Do you think he’s being unreasonable?’

‘Well –’ Susie began.

‘You see, as far as Adam is concerned it’s all me, all my fault apparently. He can’t see that he’s done anything wrong. He said just before he went off to his guitar lesson – he said – he said –’ Alice paused, struggling to spit it out.

‘What did he say, love?’

‘He said that I was being silly and irrational and completely self-obsessed and he was sure it was probably just the hormones and that he loved me very much.’ Alice sniffed back the tears. ‘And then he hugged me and kissed me on the top of the head. The patronising son of a bitch. I want to come home, Mum.’

‘What?’

‘Just for a few days. I can’t stand it here with him.’

‘But what about work?’ spluttered Susie. ‘I mean, you’ve got a mortgage to pay, and sandals to buy, and Mr Tiddles to keep in pilchards and Jersey gold top.’

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