door burst open. It was my father again. “Now where did I leave my car keys?” He rummaged around the worktops, looking very flustered.
My mother sighed. “They’re hanging in your usual spot.”
“Where’s that?”
“In front of your eyes, where they’ve been for the past forty years.” She handed them to him. As the front door banged shut, she said to me, “He’s always forgetting
things.”
I sat down at the kitchen table. “I thought he was planning to retire soon? His working harder than ever is crazy at his age.”
“Ah, look Kate, it’s good for him. If he was around here all day he’d be bored stiff and he’d be like a child under my feet. He’s better off having something to
keep him occupied.”
“Is he still on the anti-depressants he was put on when Uncle Harry died?” His brother had passed away six months previously and Dad had taken it badly.
“Yes, they seem to suit him. They’ve made him more mellow.”
“Is he talking to anyone? A psychologist?”
“Not at all. What would he need to see one of those for?”
“I thought his doctor wanted him to go to a therapist? The Prozac will only treat the symptoms not the cause.” I poured a glass of orange juice from the carton on the table.
“Kate, will you stop fussing. There’s not a thing wrong with your father. He’s in a better state than I am.” She rubbed her back with her left hand. That was my
mother’s way of drawing attention to her own troubles as a long-suffering wife and mother.
“How’s your back, Mam?”
“I’d say it’s riddled with arthritis. What with my father’s history, it’s not like I didn’t see it coming. Well thank God I have my faith in the man above.
” She tossed her head towards the teak crucifix hanging on the wall above the cooker, then continued to moan as she filled a plate for me, piled high with rashers, black pudding, half a beef
tomato and two poached eggs.
“Did you ever make an appointment with the osteopath, Mam?”
“I don’t believe in any of that nonsense,” she snapped.
I knew she was in a mood and there was no point trying to convince her of anything at this stage. Since my teenage years I’d been trying to persuade her it was possible to have a wider
view of the world than the one from the narrow window she looked through. As I dug my fork into the food in front of me, I decided to take up Ray’s invitation to visit.
Brooklawn turned out to be a new up-market housing estate, not far from my parents’ house. Ray had texted me his address as soon as the taxi had left last night. I had slept soundly and
felt very relaxed after our date the night before. That was surely a good sign, after how anxious I’d felt in Trevor’s company for many years before we split. I allowed a delay of
thirty minutes between Ray texting me his address and replying to say I would call for lunch.
I loved the way Ray looked, I thought, as I followed him through the sparsely furnished contemporary house. The chin thing seemed to have been a trick of the light. I found myself thinking we
could be great together and pictures of a romantic family life started to surface from the recesses of my imagination. I simply couldn’t stop soft-focus pictures from forming in my head. I
loved his easy going manner, and he seemed trustworthy and safe. Judging by the décor and his clothes, he had impeccable taste. His profile had said he had a degree in law as well as
economics; he had to be highly intelligent. We sat at the kitchen island on bar stools, eating triangles of pizza between chatting and gazing at each other. He entertained me with funny stories
about dating.
“I met one woman, lovely girl – but we knew straight away there was no spark between us. She had been on a date the previous week. Had arranged to meet a guy from the internet site
in a large bar in Ranelagh. You know the kind of place, with nooks and corners and crannies where couples can sit, in
My mother sighed. “They’re hanging in your usual spot.”
“Where’s that?”
“In front of your eyes, where they’ve been for the past forty years.” She handed them to him. As the front door banged shut, she said to me, “He’s always forgetting
things.”
I sat down at the kitchen table. “I thought he was planning to retire soon? His working harder than ever is crazy at his age.”
“Ah, look Kate, it’s good for him. If he was around here all day he’d be bored stiff and he’d be like a child under my feet. He’s better off having something to
keep him occupied.”
“Is he still on the anti-depressants he was put on when Uncle Harry died?” His brother had passed away six months previously and Dad had taken it badly.
“Yes, they seem to suit him. They’ve made him more mellow.”
“Is he talking to anyone? A psychologist?”
“Not at all. What would he need to see one of those for?”
“I thought his doctor wanted him to go to a therapist? The Prozac will only treat the symptoms not the cause.” I poured a glass of orange juice from the carton on the table.
“Kate, will you stop fussing. There’s not a thing wrong with your father. He’s in a better state than I am.” She rubbed her back with her left hand. That was my
mother’s way of drawing attention to her own troubles as a long-suffering wife and mother.
“How’s your back, Mam?”
“I’d say it’s riddled with arthritis. What with my father’s history, it’s not like I didn’t see it coming. Well thank God I have my faith in the man above.
” She tossed her head towards the teak crucifix hanging on the wall above the cooker, then continued to moan as she filled a plate for me, piled high with rashers, black pudding, half a beef
tomato and two poached eggs.
“Did you ever make an appointment with the osteopath, Mam?”
“I don’t believe in any of that nonsense,” she snapped.
I knew she was in a mood and there was no point trying to convince her of anything at this stage. Since my teenage years I’d been trying to persuade her it was possible to have a wider
view of the world than the one from the narrow window she looked through. As I dug my fork into the food in front of me, I decided to take up Ray’s invitation to visit.
Brooklawn turned out to be a new up-market housing estate, not far from my parents’ house. Ray had texted me his address as soon as the taxi had left last night. I had slept soundly and
felt very relaxed after our date the night before. That was surely a good sign, after how anxious I’d felt in Trevor’s company for many years before we split. I allowed a delay of
thirty minutes between Ray texting me his address and replying to say I would call for lunch.
I loved the way Ray looked, I thought, as I followed him through the sparsely furnished contemporary house. The chin thing seemed to have been a trick of the light. I found myself thinking we
could be great together and pictures of a romantic family life started to surface from the recesses of my imagination. I simply couldn’t stop soft-focus pictures from forming in my head. I
loved his easy going manner, and he seemed trustworthy and safe. Judging by the décor and his clothes, he had impeccable taste. His profile had said he had a degree in law as well as
economics; he had to be highly intelligent. We sat at the kitchen island on bar stools, eating triangles of pizza between chatting and gazing at each other. He entertained me with funny stories
about dating.
“I met one woman, lovely girl – but we knew straight away there was no spark between us. She had been on a date the previous week. Had arranged to meet a guy from the internet site
in a large bar in Ranelagh. You know the kind of place, with nooks and corners and crannies where couples can sit, in
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