‘I didn’t!’ Ruairi shouted back while Daniel was edging out ofthe room, clearly hoping I wouldn’t notice the puddle of pee on the floor. Little did he know that puddle was the very least of my worries.
‘Mum suggested it. Mum knows her own mind!’
I really hoped he was still right. That this stroke hadn’t robbed her of some of her mental capacity. We had driven to the hospital in silence. Regret had weighed heavy on me. Not for shouting at Ruairi. I am still angry at him – it’s easier than being angry at my mother for not talking to me about everything. No, I regretted not eating the rest of my soup, and smashing my favourite bowl in the sink.
And I deeply regretted not having the big conversation with my mother long before now.
It seems I’m very good at avoiding big conversations. Obviously Conal and I are yet to talk about our living arrangements, and why I reacted the way I did. I think Laura and I are okay, but also she has told her family she is going on strike and is holed up in a hotel room and I knew nothing about it.
At least, I think, Niamh and I talk. About everything. All the time. Except for earlier this year when I didn’t realise she was spiralling a bit herself trying to work out what she wanted to do with the rest of her life.
For a woman who prides herself on her communication skills – who writes for a living – I really am an awful dick sometimes.
‘Becca.’ I hear my mother say my name. It sounds strange. My mother never calls me Becca. I always get the full Rebecca from the woman who gave me life, quite often with ‘Louise Burnside’ tagged on the end. But I suppose this version takes less effort.
‘Yes, Mum. I’m here.’
‘Listen… to your… bruh-bruh… brother.’
I nod but I can’t help but say, ‘But Mum, he’s a boy!’
I see a hint of a wonky smile try to form on her lips.
‘I… told… him.’
‘I know, Mum. He told me. And we’ll talk about it when you are bit more yourself. For now, let’s just get you better. We can make any big decisions we need to then.’
She tries to shake her head. ‘Made. Al… ready.’
I grab her hand – gently of course, I don’t want to cause any more bruising – and I nod and tell her I know, but I am determined we will talk about it when she is a bit better. It’s okay if she doesn’t want to think about that just now.
I am saved from continuing this awkward conversation by the arrival of Ruairi back into the room, and coming behind him, I hear another familiar but unexpected voice.
‘Granny!’ Saul’s probably-a-little-too-loud-for-a-hospital-ward voice bounces off the walls. He’s only been back in Manchester a few weeks after the summer break and I can already hear the Manc twang kicking in. I’m half expecting him to break into a chorus of ‘Wonderwall’.
Despite his larger-than-life presence, it is a tonic to see him, and my mother clearly thinks the same. There’s a brightness in her eyes that has been missing all day.
‘My boy,’ she says as he walks straight to her and gives her the gentlest of hugs.
‘I thought you weren’t coming back until the weekend,’ I say.
‘Got a cheap flight. Didn’t want to stay away any longer,’ he says, his eyes still on his granny. ‘Have the paparazzi arrived yet? I’ve heard there’s a famous TikTok star here!’
If I am not mistaken, my mother blushes at the compliment and I just watch the beautiful moment.
No, there is no way I am going to abandon this woman who helped me raise my boys to be such caring and loving young men. I don’t care what she thinks. This is one fight I’m not going to lose.
37
ALL I’M ASKING…
Laura
Niamh is lying back on the super-king-size bed in Laura’s hotel room, luxuriating in the two-thousand-thread-count Egyptian cotton and chain-eating Percy Pigs.
‘So you’ve not spoken to Aidan?’ she asks as a refreshed and relaxed Laura emerges from the bathroom in her new M&S PJs.
‘No. I don’t think I have anything to say to him. Not at the moment. Not anything productive anyway.’ Laura sits beside Niamh on the other side of the bed and reaches her hand into the bag of Percy Pigs, taking two and putting both in her mouth at the same time.
