Mum’s the Word

Susie stared at him. ‘Gone? Oh, I’m so sorry, Jack, I hadn’t realised things were that bad between you two – but I don’t understand, why didn’t you stay there?’

‘Apparently she’s sublet the bloody flat while I was away. I mean, how mean is that? They’re in there till September – two guys from the university. They did say I could crash on the floor if I wanted to, till I got myself sorted out, but it didn’t seem right. So I came here, I didn’t think you’d mind.’

Susie didn’t move. God, did you never get time off from being a mother? Given the circumstances, how could she tell him that she did mind, that in fact she minded quite a lot? That today, any minute now in fact, Mr Could-do-a-lot-Worse was popping round to change her life forever.

Jack lifted his nose like a hungry whippet and sniffed the air. ‘Something smells good. Nice frock, by the way. Going out somewhere, are you? Oh, and have you got that money, only I think the guy in the taxi’s still got his meter running?’

There was a little pause and then Susie picked up her bag from the hallstand, handed Jack two twenty-pound notes and watched him bound back down the path towards the waiting cab. She distinctly heard him say, ‘You’re all right, keep the change, mate – yeah, no sweat, thanks. Have a good un.’ And then he jogged back towards the door and moseyed on past her into the hallway, shimmying his rucksack off one shoulder as he went and dropping it at the bottom of the stairs where it landed with a damp thud.

‘Cottage looks really great, Mum. I’ll stick my stuff upstairs, shall I?’ He bent down and started to unfasten the straps on his bag.

‘What exactly are you doing?’ asked Susie.

‘Just getting a few bits out. Where do you want the washing? Down here or upstairs? I thought I’d stick a load in straight away – you know.’

The smell from the open rucksack would have blistered paint.

‘Whoa, Jack, can you just hang on a minute? You can’t just barge in here expecting –’ She stopped for a moment as he pulled that hurt, unloved puppy face he’d perfected as a toddler. ‘– expecting to be welcomed with open arms. First of all I haven’t finished doing up the spare room yet, it’s all flat packs, bare plaster and floorboards at the moment, and secondly I’m expecting a friend round for supper any minute now.’

‘Not a problem,’ said Jack cheerfully, scooping out his dirty washing onto the hall floor. ‘I don’t mind camping out, I’m not fussy, I’ve got my sleeping bag – and I’ll watch TV in the kitchen while your friend’s here. Don’t mind me, I’ll keep the noise down. God, I’m famished, is it all right if I whip myself up a sandwich? You’ve got it really nice in here. And I love what you’ve done with the garden.’

Susie stared at him. ‘Actually, Jack, I’m really sorry but at the moment I don’t think staying here is a ver—’ she began, just as Robert stepped in through the front door.

‘Susie,’ Robert said, taken by surprise. If anything he looked even more earnest than normal, not to mention a little balder, paler and very, very tense. For a few moments he didn’t appear to notice Jack squatting down beside the rucksack.

‘How are you?’ he said.

Susie looked up at him, trying to work out whether it was nerves or if he was sickening for something. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yes, I’m fine,’ he said dismissively. ‘I’ve been thinking over what I want to say to you for some time – the thing is, Susie –’ He paused, nose wrinkling. ‘Good god, what on earth is that terrible smell?’

Jack, who was sitting on the bottom of the stairs, looked up and grinned. ‘Hi there, Robert. How’s it going?’ He was holding a bundle of rancid socks which he dropped casually onto the floor before getting up and holding out a hand.

Susie saw Robert stiffen; Jack wiped his hands on his shorts and tried again. Robert ignored him and turned his attention back to Susie.

‘Look, I’m most terribly sorry but I really can’t stay,’ said Robert.

‘What do you mean, you can’t stay? I’ve cooked supper,’ Susie said, completely wrong-footed. ‘Salmon roule and summer chicken; it’s free-range. And I’ve done a pudding.’

Robert glanced back over his shoulder as if checking that he could still find the way out. ‘Oh, I didn’t realise,’ he said. ‘I wasn’t expecting you to go to any trouble. You know, not cook or anything.’

Susie stared at him. ‘What do you mean, not go to any trouble, Robert? I always cook when you come over. You know I do, I just thought tonight I’d do us something special …’

For the last three years they’d spent almost every weekend together, taking it in turns to stay at each other’s houses, cooking for one other. What was so different about tonight of all nights?

Robert glanced down at Jack and then said, ‘Look, is there any chance that your mother and I can have this conversation privately?’ He felt around for a name and when none came continued, ‘The thing is, I really need to get going.’ And before either Jack or Susie had time to react, he said, ‘Actually, there is no good time to tell you this; the thing is, I’ve been thinking a lot recently, Susie, and I want you to understand that I’ve not come to this decision lightly.’ The words all tumbled out on one long breath as if there was some chance he might run out of air or resolve.

‘Jack, will you please go?’ snapped Susie. Whatever Robert was going to say, the last thing she wanted was for it to be in front of her twenty-four-year-old son.

Jack pulled a face. ‘What?’

‘Please, Jack. Just go, will you?’

‘Sure,’ he said, looking hard done by. He started to get up. Slowly. Susie quelled a throwback impulse to smack his legs; couldn’t he see that he should make himself scarce? And quickly. Frustration and bewilderment bubbled up inside her. This wasn’t how she had anticipated this evening going at all.

‘And can you take all this with you?’ she said, waving at the heaving mass of washing.

‘I was going to put it in the machine,’ he protested.

‘Now, please, Jack,’ she growled.

Reluctantly and still at a glacial speed, Jack picked the backpack up. As she turned her attention back to Robert, he sloped off towards the kitchen grumbling to himself.

He’d barely closed the kitchen door when Robert said, ‘Look, I’m sorry, Susie, there’s really no easy way to say this. The thing is – I’ve been thinking about this for some time now. What I really want is a family.’

‘What?’ It felt like the floor had fallen away. She reran the words in her head, trying to grasp what they meant, while Robert pressed on.

‘I’ve been mulling the idea over for a long time now, thinking that these feelings, my needs, would go away, but they haven’t. If anything they’ve got more intense. To be honest, I’ve been so depressed over the last few months, Susie. When we’ve been together I keep thinking to myself: Is this all there is, is this all there is to look forward to – is this my life?’ he said glumly, lifting his hands to encompass him, her, her life, her home, her dog. ‘Susie, the truth is that what I really want is to settle down and have a family. I want to have a baby.’

She stared at him, struggling for breath, not sure whether to burst into tears or punch his lights out.

‘What do you mean “have a baby”?’ she said, finding her voice. ‘I’m forty-five, Robert, I’ve got a baby, I’ve got two grown-up babies.’ She waved towards the kitchen door where, by the sound of it, one of them was raiding the larder. ‘I’ve already done that, I’m too –’

And then the penny dropped. ‘You don’t mean with me, do you?’ she whispered. ‘You don’t want us to have a baby, do you?’

‘I have thought about it, but as you say, Susie, you’ve already done it. You don’t want to go back to that place – even if you could. And I mean, it isn’t that likely, is it? Not at your age – not that you’re that old but, you know, babies, all that falling fertility and everything.’

Susie stared at him, wondering if he had any idea what he was saying or how it made her feel.

Robert sighed. ‘I didn’t want it to be like this, Susie, really I didn’t – I thought it would go away.’

‘Robert, you’re nearly forty-seven.’

‘I know, that’s the whole point. I keep thinking that if I don’t have children soon I’m never going to have them. And I’d like more than one, probably two, possibly even three, and I’d really like to start having them before I’m fifty – I mean, after that I think you’re too old, don’t you?’

Please god he was being rhetorical, thought Susie, as she carried on staring, not certain what to say, all the words and thoughts and pain and anger and hurt and indignation and the downright ridiculousness of it all snarled like a motorway pile-up in the back of her throat.

And then, against all the odds, Susie started to laugh. It was a close-run thing as to who was more surprised, she or Robert, but as she laughed some more he stared at her in horror.

‘I don’t see why on earth you’re laughing, Susie. This isn’t funny, this is my future we’re talking about,’ he said indignantly.

She was laughing so hard now that she could barely breathe. ‘You’re right, Robert, this isn’t funny, it’s crazy. It’s madness. For a start you can’t just summon up a family, you need to find the right person,’ she said, struggling with a giggle.

‘I have to take the chance, Susie. This may be my last shot,’ he said, his colour rising rapidly.

Susie shook her head, not picking up on the cheap joke, the laughter not abating. If anything she was laughing harder, tears rolling down her face. ‘Oh, Robert,’ she said, opening the front door for him. ‘Best you go and have a baby then. Take care.’

Robert stood for a second or two, looking bemused. ‘Look, Susie – you have to understand. It’s just that we want different things.’