“Are you going to return my calls now?” Mum asked in a small voice. I’d never heard her sound less like herself.
“Of course, Mum.” I reached over to her with my other hand and gripped her hand in mine. “I love you guys.” I looked between both my parents’ faces. “I just needed some space for a bit so that–”
“It’s not just the last month though,” Mum said, her voice rising a little. “You’ve been distant foryears. Irealisewhy now, and wepromiseourattitudes will change. We won’t go back to how we were before. I didn’t know how much it was hurting you. You’re always so… stoic, really. I don’t know why we’ve never seen that. You’re the stoic, the steady one, and Max is more turbulent and highly strung. I think we thought that if we kept pushing, you would eventually change your mind. We didn’t really see that we were the ones pushing you away.”
“Okay, no more distance then. Alright, Mum?”
“Yes, right.” Mum sniffed and gave my hand another squeeze. “Your father meant what he said – weareproud of you. It’s just we value education, and it’s hard to…” she broke off and clamped her mouth shut in a visible effort tocensorherself. “I’ll try, okay?”
“Right, tea.” Dad said, letting go of my hand to bustle over to the kettle. Clearly the man had reached his deep and meaningful conversation limit for the day.
“Listen, I came here to talk to you guys about something else as well,” I said. “It’s about Heath.”
“Oh yes,” Mum took a cup of tea from Dad and they exchanged a knowing look. “What about him, love?”She tried to maintain an innocent tone,but I could tell that they knew something was up between Heath and me, and that she was fiercely curious – it had probably been more than obvious the last time I saw them. Running off like an overdramatic heroine in a romance novel wouldn’t have helped matters.
“It’s about Verity as well. About their parents.”
That surprised Mum. Her eyebrows went up as she put her tea back down on the table. “Their parents?”
“Well, yes. Their dad died last week and I… well, they’re both acting weird.”
“Oh no, I didn’t realise their father died. Weird in what way?”
“Just… weird. Off.”
“Well, they’ve just lost their dad, love, so…”
“It’s not grief. Or at least not grief like I’ve ever seen it. It’s twisted and… I’m worried about them. I just wanted to know if you knewanything.Heath and Verity were here for so many holidays when they were at boarding school with Max. I’m wondering why Max never went to theirs.”
Mum lowered her cup slowly to the table and looked down atitssurface for a moment, as Dad straightened his glasses.
“Max going there – that was out of the question,” Dad finally said.
“But why?”
“I wouldn’t have allowed the dog to stay with those people,” Mum said, looking at my father and then at me. “You won’t remember – you were only four or five at the time – but that first summer holiday there was a reason we took the twins home with us. Nobody showed up to collect them.”
“What?But–”
“The twins were a lifeline for Max at school – we knew that. They helped him fit in – those places can be a bit snobby, and Max’s accent was very thick when he started there, plus he was a scholarship kid. He got some stick that first term until the twins took him under their wing. Your father and I were very grateful to them. So when we went to pick up Max for the holidays and the twins’ folks didn’t show, we waited with them. Eventually Heath and Verity gave us their parents’ mobile numbers, but they went straight to voicemail. I asked the twins if they definitely had the right phone numbers but they just shrugged. They said they hadn’t spoken to their parents all term. The schools were a bit more blasé back then. They just wanted the kids to be picked up. Heath and Verity had lied to them and said that they were getting the train, but they didn’t have money for the fare.”
I blinked and shook my head slowly. My cosseted upbringing with over-involved parents made what Mum was telling me almost incomprehensible.
“I finally spoke to their mum about a week into the holidaysafterwe’d taken them both home with us. She was… I don’t even have the words to describe that woman.”
“Why? What did she say?”
“She laughed. When I told her that term had finished, and the kids were with me, she laughed. She wasn’t embarrassed or worried about them, just told me she’d always been ‘Bloody useless with dates’ and that she hoped the kids hadn’t been ‘little shits like they always are’. Her voice was slurred, and I could hear people in the background like there was some sort of party going on. At one point she put her hand over the receiver I think to muffle it and shouted that ‘We’ve really ballsed up now, Giles – Heath and Verity are staying with a bunch of townies’. There was loads of laughter in reaction to that statement. I didn’t know what to say. Dad ran them back up there eventually because your gran was coming to stay, and we needed the spare room.”
“I felt horrible leaving them there, to be honest,” Dad said, grimacing at the memory. “That vast house was freezing and felt like a mausoleum. Their mum ushered us in, very obviously hungover with bloodshot eyes and stinking of booze. When we got to the kitchen, there was mess everywhere – empty bottles, cigarette butts, it was chaos. She offered me a tea before I went, but then realised the only liquid they had in the house was vodka in the freezer. Heath and Verity looked mortified. I didn’t know what to say. Heath’s mum she… she made me feel very uncomfortable.”
Dad blushed, and my mouth fell open in shock. “Bloody hell, Dad, did she make a pass at you or something?”
“Well, I–I–I…” He straightened a tie that he wasn’t wearing and swallowed as he glanced at Mum, whose mouth was pressed together in a thin line.
“That woman was a complete liability,” Mum cut in. “Don’t look so shocked, young lady. You father is a handsome man.”
I squashed the small giggle that rose in my throat. Dad was tomato red now. Even twenty years ago he’d been a balding, bespectacled, sweater-vest-wearing, elbow patches type of man. Not exactly the type of chap women proposition on a regular basis.
