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

‘I was very sad back in those days, Finley. I had some grown-up problems, and I needed to go away and sort them out, because I didn’t think it was fair to make your mummy and grandad sad too. And sometimes, when you go away, it’s quite hard to come back, because you don’t know if people will be happy to see you, or if they’ll just be really cross with you. Do you understand?’

Finley thought for a moment, then nodded solemnly.

‘Like when I broke my friend Luke’s Nerf and I was scared to go back to his house for ages in case he was really cross?’ he asked.

Mum looked bemused.

‘Well, I don’t know what a Nerf is, but yes, it sounds like a very similar situation,’ she said.

‘OK,’ said Finley happily, and Eloise, who’d been listening intently from across the room, looked satisfied too.

‘A Nerf is a stupid gun thing, Grandma,’ she said helpfully.

And that was that. From everything they’ve said to me, the children seem to be smitten.

‘Grandma is dope,’ Finley told me when I went to kiss him goodnight last night.

‘Yeah, she’s pretty sick,’ said Eloise, who was passing Finley’s bedroom door on her way to the bathroom.

As far I know, dope and sick are pretty big compliments, and Mum cried with laughter when I passed them on to her.

‘Oh, the youth of today,’ she said, wiping her eyes. ‘Whatever happened to cool and awesome, proper words?’

I could tell she was chuffed though, and now she turns to me and smiles.

‘I’m really looking forward to this. I haven’t been out for a pizza in ages,’ she says. ‘Oh, and you don’t have to drive, love. I’ve booked a taxi. I didn’t know which firm you normally use so I just googled local cabs.’

‘Oh! That’s kind. I don’t mind driving, but I wouldn’t mind a glass of wine, actually. Thanks, Mum. You look lovely, by the way.’

She does. She’s wearing a floaty floral top with some indigo jeans and a snazzy pair of red suede ankle boots; she looks stylish and youthful. I look down at my own outfit, a pair of denim jeggings which are just a bit too tight, white trainers, and a blue and white stripy shirt. I’ve tied my hair back and put some long silver earrings on, but suddenly I feel under-dressed. Mum’s looking me up and down too, and she clears her throat.

‘Thanks. Thought I’d make an effort – first time out for dinner with you and my grandchildren. Are you … are you ready to go?’

‘Well, I was, but …’ I look down at myself again. No, this won’t do.

‘I think I’ll lose the trainers and put some heels on,’ I say. ‘And maybe a blazer. What do you think?’

She nods.

‘You look great as you are, but whatever you think, love.’

I’m already heading for the hallway.

‘No, I’ll change. Two minutes!’

As I force my feet into the uncomfortable stilettos, I suddenly decide I need to start making more of an effort with my appearance. Mum’s so chic, and I’m … well, I’m just not. I saw her looking me up and down just now, and although of course she’s far too nice to say anything, I know I’m not stylish like her; I dress for comfort and practicality, not for fashion. And now my mother’s back, I want her to be proud to be out with me, proud to tell people I’m her daughter.

I used to dress nicely when Jacob was around, didn’t I? I’ve let things slip, I think.

He’s another one who seems smitten with Mum. I smile as I wiggle into my blazer – also a little too tight these days. When he dropped the kids off on Monday night, he popped in briefly to be introduced, and ended up sitting and chatting with her for a good fifteen minutes. Shortly after he left, I got a text:

Wow! So nice to meet your mum after all these years! She’s great. Very happy for you xx

It had been a while since I’d had kisses on the end of a text from my ex-husband, but I wasn’t complaining. I wasn’t reading anything into it – that ship has long since sailed – but it was still nice. Mum’s reappearance, her sudden presence in our lives, just seems to be making everyone happy, and I’m damned if I’m going to do anything to spoil that. Desperate though I am to find out every detail of her life over the past thirty years, I’m trying to take it slowly, sensing a certain reticence on her part when I ask too many questions, and yet I think I know her well enough by now to realise that her reluctance to talk endlessly about the past is partly to protect me.

‘I have had a good life, but that makes me feel so guilty,’ she said at one point. ‘I don’t want you to think that my life was better because you weren’t in it. It wasn’t like that …’

I shushed her, telling her I understood – and I think I do. And even though the feeling that she’s less than impressed with the way I dress is just that, a feeling, it’s something I can do something about. So, I muse, pulling at the sleeves of the blazer, if that means going out for dinner feeling all trussed up and uncomfortable then so be it. I take a deep breath and look in the full-length mirror that hangs on the bedroom wall. I look … well, fine, I think. Better than before, anyway.

I stick my head around Eloise and Finley’s doors as I head back downstairs, checking they’re almost ready. I’m determined to enjoy this evening; it’s going to be such a treat to be out for dinner with my mother and my children, and although I’m still worried about Dad, his condition continues to improve slowly.

Stop worrying, Beth. Stop worrying and enjoy tonight, OK?

‘Taxi should be here in about three minutes. Everyone ready?