‘We should tell her.’ Lisa held his gaze.
He felt a tight band of panic across his chest; what on earth was she thinking? To come clean about her and Lawrence, to shatter the frail security that he had created for them ... the thought was horrific and he would do whatever necessary to stop her telling the kids, to help keep the illusion, to allow them peace. He stood, with sweat pooling on his back and face, prepared to manhandle his wife out of the room if necessary, no matter how frail. Whatever it took, he was not about to sit back and watch her smash to smithereens all that he had tended and held dear in the years she had been absent. No way!
Lisa looked up at him and it was as if a penny dropped and she subtly shook her head. It seemed he had got the wrong end of the stick. He exhaled, unaware that he had been holding his breath.
‘About her nest egg,’ she clarified.
He had heard the expression ‘sweet relief’, but never really understood it until that moment, as something cool and, yes, sweet, flooded his veins and his breathing was restored to a normal rhythm.Her nest egg...
‘Oh!’ The suggestion caught him by surprise. He retook his seat at the table. Not only was it unexpected but flew in the face of what they had agreed when her mother had died.
‘Ooh, I like the sound of a nest egg! Is it ostrich? They’re huge. Knowing my luck, it’ll be more quail – tiny and frail. Unless it’s chocolate! I do love an Easter egg – yes, I think that’d be my preferred nest egg of choice; I can eat the whole thing in one sitting.’
He barely gave Daisy’s rambling any notice. This was huge; they had agreed not to say a word, not yet, but maybe Lisa, like he, was aware that her presence and participation might be temporary, or at best sporadic, and so wasn’t this exactly what he had settled on, to make the most of every second? To help lay a foundation for those times when maybe he and the kids were again consigned to a quiet house where they lived gently behind closed doors, aching for joy, for hope and for interactions such as this?
‘If you think so.’ He held her eyeline, speaking cautiously.
‘I do.’ Lisa closed her eyes briefly. ‘I really do.’
‘Shouldn’t we grab Jake?’ he suggested, feeling the rise in his gut of a potent combination of excitement and nerves. ‘I mean, if you want to tell them then we should tell them both.’
Lisa nodded. ‘Daisy, can you go call your brother?’
He watched his daughter, who moved with hesitation, suddenly quiet. ‘I feel a bit scared.’ She placed her hand at her throat.
‘Don’t be scared.’ He felt the enormity of what they had to say rise in his chest like a bubble.
Daisy left the room and hollered up the stairs from the hallway.
‘Jake! Mum and Dad want you in the kitchen right now!’
Despite what was going on around them, he and Lisa exchanged an amused look. What was it with teenagers and their ability to yell so loudly? Middle age seemed to have given them an awareness that to shout out like this was not only painful to hear but also no more effective than a mid-range call.
Daisy leaned on the sink and Jake eventually loped into the room.
‘What’s going on? I can’t believe I’m up this early on a Saturday! I still had a lot of good sleeping to do. Can you make it quick?’ He yawned, scratching his hair, which stood up at all angles.
The way Jake stole glances at his mother as if shocked at the sight of her was another powerful reminder of how rare andwonderful it was to all be together. Marty hated that this wasn’t their everyday lives, but hoped, prayed, it might be the start of just that.
‘You okay, Mum?’ Jake asked Lisa directly.
She nodded, a little overcome. Her tears pooled and Marty more than understood.
He took the lead, as Jake sat at the table.
‘We wanted to talk to you about something.’ At the sight of his kids’ pained expressions, he hurried his speech and cut to the chase. ‘Don’t worry, it’s a good thing, something to feel excited about, we hope.’ He felt nervous. It felt like a big deal – itwasa big deal! So great had been the decision, so hard the work to make it all happen. ‘Mum and I, as you know, are not really into material stuff.’
‘No shit!’ Jake leaned back on the squeaky, ancient wooden chair, as if to prove the point. It lightened the atmosphere.
‘Well, actually that’s not true,’ Lisa cut in and to hear her voice, to see her so engaged was groundbreaking. ‘It’s not that we aren’t into material stuff, I mean, there are things I would like, certainly ...’
‘Like what, Mum? What would you like?’ Daisy asked so sweetly Marty felt a firebolt of love and pride shoot right through him for the beautiful, considerate young woman they had raised.
‘Oh, well, I can’t think right now.’ Lisa took her time. ‘Maybe new loo seats, erm, a decent range to cook on.’
‘You mean you might start cooking?’ It was as if the words slipped from their son with unbridled hope.
‘I used to love cooking.’ Lisa looked down into her lap.
