Like a garden spade to the back of the head.
39
‘Is everything OK, Mum?’ Seb is at the back door, hovering anxiously.
It’s a Wednesday night and John has gone to play snooker with his friends and brothers. He will be back late. He’s a local celebrity these days, and everyone wants a piece of him.
‘Yes, Sebby,’ she says quickly, though he has walked in on her staring into space, which must’ve looked a bit odd. ‘I’m fine, just thinking.’
She was thinking. She was thinking that she has to find a solution to all of this. It’s been over a week of everything being Back To Normal, but she’s realising that she can’t go Back To Normal. She needs to be Pauline again. Those months of freedom have unleashed something inside her. She misses it. And more than anything, she misses her friends in The Lottery Winner Widows Club.
John has been on his best behaviour since he’s been back. He’s been kind and smiley. Thoughtful even. It’s probably, in part, because Tilly and Seb have been around so much. Not to mention the eyes of the world are still on them. John has done multiple media interviews, and came home yesterday talking about a meeting he’d had with a producer about anITV drama. Although, he told her, wiggling his eyebrows, he’s holding out for a Netflix miniseries.
He’s happier than she’s ever seen him. There have been moments where Pauline’s even thought she might be able to forget everything he’s done. In time. Maybe.
Although, it might be easier to try and forget her friends and who she was around them. Forget how much she’s changed.
Seb sits down across from her.
‘I’m sorry I didn’t defend you that day,’ he tells her suddenly, with urgency. ‘That day, when Tilly staged her stupid intervention.’ He looks down at his lap. ‘I should’ve stopped her. I should’ve spoken up. I knew it wasn’t right. I’m too much of a follower sometimes, I think.’ He looks up now, biting his lip. ‘I should’ve defended you. There are so many times when I should’ve defended you over the years.’
She regards him curiously. ‘What do you mean?’ He blinks at her and she asks the question. ‘Are you . . . Are you talking about your dad?’
Seb nods slowly. ‘I never knew whether to say anything because I know you love him, but if I’m being honest with you, Mum, I don’t . . . I don’t really like the way he treats you a lot of the time.’
Something begins to unfurl in her stomach. Seb saw. He saw it. He saw her.
She doesn’t know what to say. She’s spent so much time denying and pretending. But she doesn’t want to anymore. Whatever it might cost, she doesn’t want to pretend everything is – and always was – fine. At last, she says, ‘You’ve noticed?’
‘Yes,’ he nods again. ‘And I’m really sorry I didn’t say anything before. It’s so hard to know when it’s the right timeto say something. I didn’t know at what point I was supposed to stop being a kid with you and Dad. At what age are you meant to stand up to your own dad and go, “Hey, don’t speak to Mum like that”?’ He swallows. ‘I’ve always wanted to protect you, but I didn’t know how. So I just tried to stay close. I tried to look out for you and be here for you. I felt pretty useless most of the time – and I know Iamuseless in a lot of ways – but I wanted to at least be here for you. I wanted to be around if you ever needed me or wanted help.’
Pauline blinks at her son, wondering when he became an adult. Because he is now – he really is – and yet, this is the closest he’s come in decades to that compassionate, astute little boy she remembers.
He’s known the truth for all these years and has been trying to protect her.
A realisation hits her suddenly, out of nowhere.
The shed.
He stayedfor her.
Her son saw who his dad really was and he stayed close. Even if it meant living in a horrible, old, spider-infested shed in the back garden. Pauline thought she’d been protecting Seb by keeping things to herself – all the while despairing of her adult son refusing to move out or find himself a real life – and the truth was that he was the one protectingher.
Seb sighs. ‘Anyway, then y’know this huge, bananapants thing happened with him dying in this awful car accident.’ He screws up his face. ‘By the way, are we really supposed to believe the authorities over there just . . . got it wrong? I really don’t understand what the hell went on. None of it makes any sense.’ He shakes his head. ‘And Tilly was so worried about you after the funeral, but I thought you seemed . . .better. Youseemed happier. You were coming out of your shell a bit . . . and, to be honest with you, Mum, so was I. You were doing things thatyouwanted to do. You made those cool friends.’ He brightens. ‘You bought that awesome car!’ Then his face falls. ‘What’s happening with that by the way? Are you justgivingit to Dad? Is he keeping it?’ Seb sighs. ‘Whatever, I don’t want it to sound like I’m sad Dad’s back, but . . .’ He does sound a bit sad his dad’s back. ‘I dunno . . . a part of me was kind of relieved he was gone.’ He adds hastily, ‘I didn’t wish him dead or anything, y’know, but everything felt easier without him around.Youseemed easier. And freer.’ He swallows. ‘I want you to be OK, Mum. And I want you to put yourself first. It’s great Dad’s not really dead, but you don’t have to . . . you know. Never mind us, we’re grown-ups, we’re fine. You have to choose yourself. Put your own oxygen mask on first, right, Mum?’
She places her hand over his. He was relieved John was gone, just like she was. The puzzle pieces begin to fall into place. When his dad had “died”, hadn’t Seb started to get his act together? Without her husband around holding both of them back, Seb had finally started to live his life. Hadn’t he mentioned looking at places to rent? Hadn’t he started looking at job websites? Hadn’t he had interviews and— oh!
‘Seb!’ she says with sudden urgency. ‘How did your course go?’
‘Ah!’ he twinkles. ‘The course, of course! I’m on course to do well on the course.’ They both laugh, and then he shrugs, suddenly a little bashful. ‘Actually, it was really, totally, bananapants amazing. I learned so much about how therapy works and what it would take to become a therapist . . .’
That’s what the course was about!
‘And I’ve decided it’s something I really want to do. I want to be a therapist. I want to help people, if I can. It’ll be a lot of work and take years to get qualified, but I feel sure about it.’
Pauline wants to cry because this is beyond perfect. Her perfect Seb. She squeezes his hand. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ she says in a whisper, looking at him properly for what feels like the first time in years.
He suddenly looks a bit shifty. ‘OK, well, try and remember how proud you are for the next few minutes, will you, Mum? Because I may have done something you don’t like.’ He pauses. ‘There are some people who really want to talk to you.’
