‘Hello, this is Netta on the Family Listening Line. I’m here to listen to whatever is on your mind today.’
‘Netta, it’s George McLuskey.’
She’d have known who it was even if he hadn’t said his name. He had a low raspy voice that sounded like, as he put it, ‘a transit van with a dodgy exhaust’. He’d been one of her weekly callers since his wife had passed away the year before and he’d needed a bit of advice on what to get one of his four adult daughters for her birthday. ‘It’s the kind of thing our Violet always took care of,’ he’d confessed on that first call. ‘And I don’t want to let her down.’ A piece of Netta’s heart had chipped right off when he’d said it. Since then, he’d called every couple of weeks, and they’d discussed everything from what was on TV to what he should wear to his youngest girl’s wedding. He told Netta regularly how much she’d helped him, but the truth was that he’d helped her too – just as all her callers did.
‘Hullo, George. I didn’t expect to hear from you today.’
‘Aye, it’s just a quick one,’ he said. ‘And I’m sorry to bother you with it, but I took your advice. I asked Barbara from the doctor’s surgery if she’d maybe like to have a soup and a sandwich one lunchtime and she said yes. I’m meeting her at two o’clock and I’m all in a bit of a fret about it.’
Netta hoped no one could hear her chuckling in the graveyard. It wasn’t exactly normal behaviour, given the circumstances.
‘Ah, that’s lovely that she agreed, George. Tell me what you’re fretting about.’
‘Well, I was watching a programme last night and it said it was offensive these days to offer to pay. In fact, apparently, it’s an offence to hold a door open for a lady now too. Feels like the world is upside down. I never let my Violet open a door from the day I met her, and she liked that. You know, that’s just how it was done in our days. That said, I don’t want to cause offence, because if nothing else, I need to see Barbara every fortnight when I go to get my blood pressure checked.’
Netta was still smiling as she gave some thought to her reply before speaking. ‘I’m sure Barbara won’t take offence. I would just explain your thoughts to her. You could tell her that you’d very much like it to be your treat, but if she objects, then you’ll respect that and split it. Leave it up to her and that way you’ll avoid offence either way.’
He thought about that for a moment. ‘Aye, aye, you’re right. Thanks, Netta. I appreciate that. Dear Lord, it’s all changed these days, hasn’t it? The things we do for a bit of company.’
‘But you’re doing great, George. I’m proud of you for taking the first step.’ She meant that. When they’d first spoken, over a year ago now, he couldn’t even hear of the possibility of another relationship and now here he was, taking the plunge and doing something to make his life better. And no, the irony wasn’t lost on Netta that there she was, supporting him through the process that she didn’t have the courage or the motivation to do for herself. The Listening Line had taught her that she was great at listening and gave good advice, but that didn’t mean she could apply any of that wisdom to her own life. If her Fergus was looking down at her right now, he’d be having a good old sneer at her double standard.
‘Aye, I think Violet would be glad. Thanks again, Netta.’
‘Any time, George. You take care of yourself. I look forward to hearing how you get on.’
As she hung up, she felt a strange emotion that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Not envy. There was no part of her that wanted to be out there chasing another relationship. And she was happy for George, although she just hoped that Barbara from the doctor’s surgery was a nice person who would be gentle with his heart. But maybe there was a small part of her that was a little jealous of the thrill of it. Sure, it would be lovely to have a bit of company and someone to have the occasional adventure with – maybe another wee trip to Spain – but the thought of starting again, learning to live with someone else, sharing her flaws and her bed, well, that made her toes curl with terror.
She didn’t need a new person in her life, but perhaps it would be nice to have something to get excited about. A bit of connection. That thought took her back to her earlier one about Mandy and Blair. They were busy people, but still, she tried her best to be as much a part of their lives as they’d let her.
She picked her other phone back out of her bag and dialled the number at the top of her favourites list. It went straight to Mandy’s voicemail.
‘Hi, this is Mandy McGonigle. Sorry I can’t take your call right now, but please leave a message and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Hello, Mandy, love. I was just calling to check in and see how you’re doing. Give me a wee buzz back when you get time.’ Netta knew from experience that Mandy might call in an hour or in three days, depending on what was going on in her life, and that was fine, wasn’t it? No matter their age, it was her job to look out for her children, not their job to take care of her.
Netta had always felt that way, but again, in hindsight, she could see that sometimes her reluctance to be vulnerable with her daughter had perhaps caused a distance between them.
Mandy and her dad hadn’t had the closest of relationships. Their headstrong, independent daughter had often accused him of being a dinosaur, because with every passing year, he’d become more inflexible, more set in his ways, more reluctant to try new things. When Mandy had first talked about setting up her own business, he’d spent months banging on about the risks, until Mandy had stopped discussing it. When she’d reached her thirties and still wasn’t married, Fergus gave her a regular ‘time you settled down’ lecture.
‘I don’t know how you can listen to him, Mum,’ Mandy would say, after yet another barbed conversation with her dad, but Netta would just shrug.
‘Och, he’s not all bad, love.’
And he wasn’t. That was the truth of it. He was self-centred. He was old-fashioned. He was inflexible. And he had no appetite to… what was it the young ones called it? Evolve. That was it. He had never evolved. He was still the same man that Netta had met over forty years ago, when she’d fallen in love with his strong, quiet confidence and brooding handsomeness. It was difficult to pinpoint when she’d realised that quiet strength was more of a cold detachment, but she’d been too busy working and bringing up the children to worry about it.
Mandy had once asked why she didn’t leave him, and Netta had replied with a throwaway comment. ‘Why would I want to start over again at my age? Besides, we roll along just fine, me and your dad.’
It wasn’t a lie, but there was more to it. Netta hadn’t been miserable, but she hadn’t been happy either. She’d just existed.
At the time, she’d thought she was avoiding burdening Mandy with her true feelings. Protecting her from worrying that her mother was unhappy. But, actually, what she’d done was drive a wedge between herself and a daughter who, Netta suspected, had lost some respect for a mum who’d been a bit of a doormat.
Mandy wasn’t wrong. But Netta knew that the dynamics of their marriage were as much her own fault as Fergus’s, so that’s why she came here on his anniversary to acknowledge their years together and to remind herself that she could live her life on her own terms now.
‘You look deep in thought there, Mum.’
Netta automatically smiled at the sound of her son’s voice. She’d been so lost in her own world that she hadn’t even heard or seen Blair coming up the path. He kissed her on the cheek, then placed the bunch of flowers in his hand down on the grass in front of her vase of sunflowers. Unlike Mandy, Blair had never questioned her choices, never judged his parents’ relationship. Just as she hadn’t pried when he’d gone through his divorce from Gayle, instead choosing to be an ear to listen and a source of advice when asked.
‘I thought you might be here,’ he said, as he sat down beside her.
