‘Mum offered to help but I wanted to do it. Probably the only time I ever will.’ When was Marco going to stop being so hard on her?
‘Unless you settle down one day, little brother.’
‘Don’t hold your breath.’ Although if Bess changed her mind and took a chance on him, you never knew.
Marco broke off to yell something to the kids and then came back on camera. ‘They’re putting on their wellies ready to go out in the back garden.’
‘Is it snowing?’
‘Trying to, but I don’t think it’ll settle.’
‘Remember the year it snowed so much, we built an igloo?’
‘Yeah, you were rushing it; you didn’t want to take your time and get it right.’
‘Of course I didn’t, I wanted to play in it.’
‘And then you wanted to demolish it.’
‘All part of the fun.’
‘Where is Mum, by the way?’
‘Out for a walk, thought I’d start the call while she’s still out, give us a chance to talk. You know she thinks you either begged to work or that you’re not really working at all.’
Once Christmases with his mother had become a thing of the past, Gio had often volunteered to work over the major holiday. Others in his crew had wives, kids, parents to spend it with. It always felt selfish to him to take the time off when he wasn’t going to do anything in particular.
Over the years, Gio had had a couple of Christmases with Marco and Saffy. They had the proper family Christmas the brothers had long forgotten about: the one with both parents, nobody wasted and unable to function properly, the one where the only yells were from over-excited children or from the television as an all-action movie took centre stage. The year Saffy was pregnant with Billy, Gio had taken charge of making the Christmas dinner at their place so Marco, Saffy and Matilda could have some time together. That was the year the boys’ mother had been living it up in her bedsit where a few of the other tenants from the building organised a big Christmas dinner of their own. The boys plus Saffy and the kids had been invited but they’d politely declined – they could only imagine the ruckus, the chaos, the misfits their mother hung out with celebrating together.
‘I really am working,’ said Marco. ‘That’s why we’ve eaten the roast already. Saffy’s family are coming over later on and I’ll be going to the station.’
‘Mum wishes you’d brought the kids here.’
His brother put a hand to the back of his neck, a sure sign he was irritated. ‘I’m a long way from trusting her with my kids.’
‘I know. But she’s doing well. Give her a chance.’
Marco’s silence confirmed he was thinking exactly what Gio was as those words left his mouth – they’d given her a lot of chances along the way. There was the summer when Gio turned sixteen and he’d had a birthday party planned at the house. Their mother had organised it all – she would be around but notpresent; she’d let Gio have until midnight with his buddies playing as many computer games as they liked, eating pizza and drinking cola. She hadn’t stayed in the background at all; she’d got pissed on a bottle of wine in her bedroom and cranked up the music as the clock rolled towards midnight, dancing in the lounge where everyone could witness Gio’s humiliation. Then there was the winter Marco passed his driving test. He’d been driving with a full licence a total of a day before she called him to pick her up because she’d missed the last bus home. Not only had he had to collect her from a pub; he’d literally had to pick her up from the pavement when he found her lying on the slabs outside the establishment, probably five minutes away from getting scooped up by the police.
She’d been unreliable for as long as the boys could remember and it was hard to push her from that mould. She hadn’t been a mum but rather someone they had to look out for, be embarrassed by, hoping she wouldn’t do anything illegal or anything that got any of them into strife. At least she kept a roof over their heads but it was Marco who kept the household going after their dad left and she turned to alcohol to numb her feelings. It had started out just at the weekends, and the boys put it down to her way of coping after a week at work. She was waiting tables at the time but she soon lost that job. She found another and another after that but none of them lasted. And the more time she had off in between, the more she drank. She had boyfriend after boyfriend; none of them hung around, thankfully. They were as bad as she was.
As soon as Marco turned twenty-two and Gio was seventeen, Marco moved out, but it wasn’t long before the family home was repossessed and Marianne and Gio were out of there too. Gio lived with his mum in one grotty place after another, he worked part time, finished his education, completed his training tobecome a firefighter and then he left for good. He’d stayed in the area at first, moved into the house share where he met Bess, helped his mother out when he could. He’d continued to support Marianne over the years until finally, in his forties, he’d seen his chance for a totally fresh start.
‘We’ve given her a lot of chances,’ said Gio to Marco, ‘but I’ve seen it for myself this time. She’s here in Whistlestop River, this is the longest she’s been living near enough to either of us that we know what she’s like from day to day, and I’m telling you, she’s turned a corner. Just think about a visit. I didn’t even see you when you visited me in hospital.’
‘You were pretty out of it.’
‘So will you come?’
There was a significant pause but eventually, he said, ‘I’ve got time off a few days after New Year. How about then?’
Gio would’ve leapt in the air if it was safe with his knee. ‘Look forward to it.’ But he wouldn’t tell their mother yet. The last thing he wanted was to get her hopes up, have her disappointed and spiralling into a melancholy that could be catastrophic for someone like Marianne with her addiction. He supposed at some point, he’d have to stop being so protective but for now, he was keeping his guard up.
‘How’s that knee of yours anyway?’ Marco asked.
Gio shared his progress, his frustrations, the way he missed work and when Gio heard the front door, Marco went to beckon the kids inside so they could chat with their grandma.
It was probably easier for Marco than trying to talk to his mum on his own.
