“This
book is Brilliantly Written, leaving you wanting to keep reading but not
wanting it to end.”
“This
fictional story brought out some very strong feelings as I turned the pages.”
“Heart
breaking read but brilliantly written.”
“Be
prepared to get engrossed, to be taken into a story which will awaken quite a
few emotions for this is a very emotional book about a very emotional subject.”
The Wendy House
Chapter
One
‘Mum
can I have a word?’ Nicola asked, in a voice that hinted she’d had more to
drink than was decent. She approached her mother with a half empty glass of
white wine clutched in her hand and a sardonic smile twisting her lips as she
glared at the person her mother was talking to. She watched as her mother
turned from the man in the wheelchair and as their eyes met, Barbara Knight
frowned. Nicola could almost taste her mother’s disdain as she took in the
brightness of her mother’s eyes and flushed cheeks.
‘Don’t
you think you’ve had enough?’ Barbara hissed, as she moved closer to Nicola and
reached out to grab at the glass. Nicola pulled her hand away, slopping a few
drops of the contents onto the gold-patterned carpet. ‘Today of all days, can’t
you behave?’ Barbara took hold of Nicola’s elbow and with unnecessary haste,
guided her out of the room and into the large hall where they could be alone.
‘I
am behaving and that’s why I’d like a word with you. Today of all days is
perfect.’
Barbara
bit down on her lower lip. ‘Why do you always have to do this, Nicola? Do you
not have a sensitive bone in your body? We’ve just cremated your father, the
man who loved us. He made our lives what they are today and we’re never going
to be the same without him.’ Tears pooled in Barbara’s eyes and she dabbed at
them with a tissue.
Nicola
took in her mother’s grief and felt her resolve weaken. The moment of courage
she had struggled to find, slowly evaporated. What she needed to say had waited
for so long, it could wait a while longer. She loved her mother, but they were
permanently at odds with each other, neither able to hold onto the closeness
they once had. Nicola wrestled with all the emotions that flooded her, each
jostling for pole position. Right now she just wanted to run; run until she was
far enough away from everything and everyone. The urge to disappear had been
with her for so long that it was like a second skin, but as much as the desire
to leave it all behind shadowed her, she knew she could never leave her children;
they were all she had. Knowing the moment was now lost, she moved forward and
wrapped her arms around her mother. Her wine glass tilted precariously down her
mother’s back as she looked into her mother’s face and saw a reflection of her
own pain. ‘I didn’t mean to upset you, but …’ she said, her voice brimming with
emotion as she left the rest of the sentence unsaid, finishing it under her
breath. ‘I really do need to talk to you... there’s so much you need to know.’
‘Darling,
I know,’ Barbara said. ‘We will all miss him. I don’t know how I’m going to get
through without him.’ Barbara gazed into Nicola’s eyes and with her damp
tissue, wiped at her daughter’s face. Seeing the glass of wine still clutched
in her hand, she added, ‘Please don’t drink anymore, it will only add to your
sadness. I know what you’re like with drink inside you.’
Nicola
bristled at her mother’s insinuation, the moment of closeness evaporating, hugs
and words forgotten at her mother’s need to criticise. ‘Are you saying I’m a
lush?’
‘Good
God, I’m not going to walk on egg shells today, Nicola. There are family and
friends in the room next door, here to pay their last respects to a man who was
a pillar of strength and offered genuine friendship in this community; a man
that everyone trusted.’ Barbara pulled her hand away. She ran it across her
forehead, adding, ‘Today is not about you!’
It
never is, Nicola thought and took a large gulp of her wine.
‘I’m
going to ask you again to behave. I’ve ignored the outfit you’ve turned up in,
but I will not put up with your outbursts today. Now, please go and wash your
face and make sure everyone is fine, including your children.’
The
anger that lived in Nicola’s heart was bursting to spill out. She took a deep
breath and was about to ask what, exactly, was wrong with her outfit when, from
the corner of her eye, she spied him in his wheelchair, entering the hall.
‘Barbara,
are you all right?’ The concern in Bob Wakefield’s voice was evident in every
syllable.
Nicola
didn’t miss the piercing look he shot her, but for the first time she saw fear
in his eyes and it made her feel euphoric. She glugged down the rest of her
wine and watched him over the top of her glass.
‘Yes,
thank you. I just needed to hug my daughter,’ Barbara replied, casting a warning
sign to Nicola that clearly meant, don’t push me any further.
‘I
understand,’ Bob said. He pressed the lever on his right armrest and swivelled
the wheelchair out of the hall.
Barbara
placed a firm hand on her daughter’s shoulder. ‘I’m going back to join the
others and I suggest you do the same.’
‘He’s
the one who should have been cremated today,’ Nicola said, her stare taking in
the space Bob had left.
Turning
sharply, an exasperated sigh escaped Barbara’s lips and a mixture of shock and
sadness filled her face. ‘Nicola, why are you angry with everyone and
everything? At twenty-seven you should not only have grown up, but you should
show some respect!’ As if exasperated, Barbara thrust her arms in the air in a
gesture of defeat, and strode down the hall, calling over her shoulder, ‘I
can’t take anymore of you today.’
Nicola
hadn’t meant for the conversation to go this way, it wasn’t how she had planned
it. She peered down into her empty glass. She was angry, very angry, and she
wanted someone to know why. She had almost told her mother and hopefully one
day she would find the courage to go through with it. Why should she have to
hold in all this pain and knowledge? She wished her father was still here
because she would have liked to have seen his face when she did eventually
speak.
Nothing
had prepared her for his death, but unlike the rest of the so-called friends
here today, she was not crying. She wanted to, but knowing it had been because
of her father, she couldn’t.
In
an act of defiance she had carefully chosen her outfit for today: a black and
pink suit, white blouse and matching two tone shoes, black for respect and the
pink to remind him. She had known her mother would be livid at her garish
outfit and that, amongst many more reasons, was why she had worn it. The colour
would always remind her of that day years before and she wanted it to be a
reminder again today. She would never know if her father knew, but she knew he
did, and here he was as if nothing had ever happened. She couldn’t even think his
name, let alone say it; for her he could only ever be “him”.
‘Hey
Nic, what are you doing on your own? I’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
Startled,
Nicola looked up from a button she had started to fiddle with and a broad smile
lit up her face as her eyes met Tony’s. ‘I just needed a minute on my own,’ she
said.
Apart
from her children, Tony was the best thing that had ever happened to her. He
had made her feel normal and clean, as if she was someone different; someone
special. He knew all her flaws, every single dirty one, and yet he still loved
her and wanted her in his life, never questioning all she had told him, only
listening and helping. It was because of Tony that she now knew it was time to
try and talk to her mother; he was certain it would help her. Maybe if she had
another drink she could forge a path to start the conversation she should have
attempted years earlier.
Fingering
the stem of her empty glass, she was painfully aware that she was drinking too
much, but what she had to say needed a strength she could not find anywhere
else. No matter how much she drank, though, it would never deliver the pain
relief she longed for, but she needed to try.
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