The Happy Family by Jackie Kabler (electric book reader txt) 📕

and then filled her in. She’d been appropriately sympathetic about Dad, immediately telling me she’d be more than happy to take on extra childcare or whatever I needed while he was ill. And then we’d gone into the kitchen where Mum was drinking coffee at the island, and I’d introduced them. Robin nearly fell over with shock.

‘Your … your mum? But …’

She was wide-eyed, staring from me to my mother and we looked at each other and laughed.

‘Think you’re going to get this a lot over the next few days, love,’ Mum said wryly.

‘I think I am! Are you OK, Robin?’

Robin swallowed and nodded, clearly trying to pull herself together. She knew, of course, that I hadn’t seen my mother for thirty years; I’d briefly told her the story of Mum’s disappearance as we drank tea together one day not long after she started working for me. It was bound to be somewhat surprising, therefore, for her to come to work on a Monday morning and find said runaway mother sitting in my kitchen.

‘I’m fine, gosh. It’s just … well, it’s a bit of a shock, isn’t it? Lovely to meet you, Mrs … erm …’

She held out a hand and Mum smiled and shook it.

‘Alice is fine,’ she said.

‘Of course. Lovely to meet you, Alice.’

Now, as I wait impatiently in the hall for my cab, I wonder if the two of them will be OK here in the house together while I’m at work. For the first few minutes Robin had simply stared at my mother; then, although she isn’t usually one for long conversations, she began to bombard her with questions.

‘So … where do you live now? And how did you track Beth down? And how long has it been since you’ve seen each other?’ I heard her say as I went into the downstairs loo for a quick pee, making me wonder if I should have sent Robin home today and let Mum have some space for her first full day alone in Cheltenham. I don’t want her to feel overwhelmed, although I suppose it’s only natural that people are going to have questions. I certainly did. I still do. But should I tell Robin to go home?

On the other hand, it’s so nice to have a clean house on a Monday evening, and she’s here now …

I hear the toot of a car horn outside. It’ll be fine, I think.

‘Got to go! Have fun you two! See you this evening,’ I shout, and there are answering yells from upstairs, where Mum’s now gone to brush her teeth, and from the kitchen, where Robin’s already started cleaning. So, still wondering where on earth my flipping keys are, I head for the taxi and work.

At lunchtime I rush to the hospital to see Dad, who I’ve been assured is stable and comfortable. He’s asleep for my entire twenty-minute visit, but I chat quietly to him anyway, telling him about Robin’s shock at meeting Mum, and the saga of my lost keys. I don’t mention Mum coming to visit again though, as that, it seems, is a no-no. Over our soft-shell crab and chips last night I’d tentatively asked her if she wanted to see Dad again and about how she’d felt when she saw him.

She’d taken a bite of a large chip and chewed it slowly, contemplating her answer.

‘It felt … weird, to be honest. He looked so … so old, Beth. I mean, I know he’s got twenty years on me, but he seemed even older than that, you know? Like a really old man. I mean, I know he’s sick and everything, but … well, I’m not sure what I felt. It was just strange. And sorry, but I don’t think I will go and see him again. I don’t think it’s a good idea, for either of us. I came back for you, not for him. I hope you understand that? And I hope you don’t think it makes me sound cold, or unfeeling, or anything. But I have to be honest, you know?’

I nodded. I did understand. I wished things were different, but I got it. It was what it was.

And so I just promise Dad I’ll pop in again on my way home this evening and race back to work, where I wolf down a ham sandwich in the staffroom while I hastily finish off the notes I’ve made for a meeting later with two of the GPs. We’re hoping to redecorate some of the consulting rooms later this year and we need to discuss timescales and budget and all sorts of other details. The meeting’s scheduled for 3pm, but at five to Dr Johnson sticks her head round the door.

‘Beth, I’m so sorry but can we delay a bit? I’m snowed under. Is four OK? I’ve asked Paul and he’s fine with it if you are?’

‘Of course. Any time this afternoon is fine by me, Gabby.’

I smile and she grins broadly, gorgeous white teeth flashing; she gives me a thumbs-up and disappears again. Gabrielle Johnson is probably my favourite of our five doctors, if I’m honest, although I’m rather fond of all of them. But Gabby is lovely. Born in Jamaica, she came to the UK with her family as a teenager and we always say she brought that Caribbean sunshine with her. It’s rare to see her without a smile on her pretty face, and the patients adore her. I’m loving her even more now after my hectic morning, breathing a little sigh of relief that I’ve got some extra time before the meeting. I’m just about to start updating the surgery Facebook page – another one of my jobs – when Ruth walks in.

I sat her and Deborah down first thing this morning when I got in and told them the news about Mum – and Dad, of course – too, and their reactions were similar to Robin’s. Sympathy and offers of ‘anything we can do’ for Dad, and: ‘WHAT?