When a dangerously-out-of-it Harry dropped me off, I’d rushed straight upstairs to find Mum happily asleep in bed, snoring quietly. But I was so shaken, so freaked out by what could’ve happened, that I took for ever to drop off and I was in a whole new realm of tired the next day.
Mum woke me at ten.
“Audrey, wake up. I’ve made us pancakes,” she called through the floorboards.
I stumbled down the stairs, my feet aching from standing up all the previous day. I stopped in the kitchen doorway. It had been too dark to see last night, but it was spotless. Show Home spotless. I turned and looked back at the living room – also spotless. Like a house elf had been overnight.
“Morning, sweetie.” Mum was at the Aga, a frying pan in hand, a giant bowl of batter wobbling on the counter. “I’ve put blueberries in and everything.”
“Wow. Thanks.”
The surfaces were so clean I could lick them. All the unopened mail and other clutter on the breakfast bar had vanished. There was even a vase of flowers. I perched on a stool and took a sip of my pre-poured glass of proper orange juice.
“How was work? I didn’t hear you come in.”
“It was long. And then I went out afterwards.” I paused, watching her cook, trying to figure her out. Dougie had said she was bad, and, on the surface, she looked more than okay right now. But Mum never made pancakes, and never kept the house this tidy. We’d never, ever, had blueberries. “Milo turned up, with his new girlfriend,” I tested, seeing what her reaction would be.
She flipped the pancake over, the raw side sizzling as it hit the pan. “Great, just great. I mean, I didn’t even know you could get blueberries in autumn. But they were on offer and everything.”
That’s when I knew to worry.
“Mum?”
“Yes?”
“I said Milo turned up at work yesterday.”
She half-turned around. “He did? Well, I guess that’s just like him, isn’t it?” She turned back to her pancake while I blinked back tears that had appeared straight out of nowhere. She’d actually been doing okayish the last couple of months or so. I’d thought she might finally be getting over it – after two years in the sanity wilderness – but this house thing had undone everything…
The manicness continued. I ate four blueberry pancakes out of fear of what would happen if I turned one down. She kept up a steady stream of inane conversation, hardly eating. “Sandra told me the blueberries were on offer, so I went to check it out…we don’t normally have pancakes, do we? … It’s so great you’re enjoying your job… What’s Walking with Sausage Dogs like then? …I finally got that stain off the carpet.”
She was bad. Dougie was right. She was wound right up which meant she would unravel fast – flinging mess all around her when the energy ran out, like a Catherine wheel. I shouldn’t have left her yesterday. But then yesterday I’d felt free and I’d made jokes and I’d felt like…me again.
“Well, they’re amazing pancakes, thanks, Mum.”
She beamed at me and sipped at her third cup of coffee since I’d sat down.
“Nice to have a treat at the weekend, isn’t it?” Another sip. And then, “Are you still seeing your dad today?”
I nodded slowly. “Yes, I guess. I was going to go yesterday, but then I had to do the double shift.”
Mum tipped coffee down her throat rather than sipping it. “And you’ll talk to him?”
“I’ll try. You know what he’s like.”
“I thought I did.” She smashed her cup down so hard it shattered, pieces of it bouncing off the table. I jumped as she pushed her chair back abruptly, its legs screeching. “OH, FOR GOODNESS’ SAKE,” she yelled to the ceiling, to me, to nobody, to the world.
I went to get the dustpan out.
“Just leave it.”
“Okay.” I stood frozen, too nervous to move.
“Just…well…” She seemed to regain control of herself. “Just, well, try to talk to him, Audrey.”
“I’ll try.”
Dad’s new wife, Jessie, picked up the phone on the third ring.
“Audrey, hi.” There was a distinct amount of screaming down the line. “Hang on… No, Albert, I said, NO. Put it down. PUT IT DOWN. Paul? PAUL? Can you come take Albert?” A clatter and Dad’s voice in the background, and more crying, and then quiet. “Sorry about that. Is everything okay? Why are you calling?”
“I was hoping I could pop round today? There’s something I need to talk to Dad about.”
A long pause. “Today?”
“Yes. Maybe if I can speak to Dad?”
“Today’s not great, Audrey.” Jessie sighed. “Albert, what is it? WHAT IS IT? Paul? Paul? Can you get him his snuggle?”
“I don’t care, he’s my fucking dad,” I said.
…I didn’t say that.
I said, “I won’t be long.”
“Okay, well, we’re having a roast at two, so if you come at one and stay for an hour?”
It shouldn’t have surprised me that she didn’t invite me to the roast, but it did. It hurt too.
“I’m really full from breakfast so I couldn’t eat anyway,” I replied. “Mum made pancakes,” I added.
But I was only met with crashing down the line and, “Lola? Lola? No. No. Give Albert back his snuggle, give it back NOW.” More crying and yelling and clattering. “Yes, Audrey. See you later.” She hung up before I even had a chance to say goodbye.
I sighed as the phone beeped. I tried not to hate Jessie, but she made it so easy. I mean, if you’d plucked a husband away from his wife and children, yanked a family apart, chucked industrial bleach on two teenagers’ sense of stability…well…you’d think you’d TRY to make up for it. Wouldn’t you? An invite for a fucking roast should be the least of it. But not Jessie. It was like she’d declared war. Like Dougie and I were annoying blemishes on her otherwise-perfect life that she wished she could wipe away. Like we ruined the moment just by existing. Like we were a side-plot she wished she could rub out.
Mum crashed into my room, like she’d been listening in. Which, let’s face it, she probably had.
“And?”
“I’m going over before lunch.”
“Oh, thanks, Audrey. Thank you so much.”
“I really don’t think it will help.”
Screenplay for
ALL THE THINGS I NEVER SAY
TO MY FATHER
Written by
Audrey Winters
FADE IN:
EXT. AUDREY’S DAD’S HOUSE – DAY
<We’re MOVING THROUGH the cottage of
Audrey’s father, PAUL, who we find sitting in the
living room, his head in his hands. AUDREY
stands over him, looking fierce and confident>
AUDREY
How could you do this to us, Dad?
How could you just leave?
PAUL
I don’t know. I’m sorry, Audrey.
<AUDREY throws her arms up into the air>
AUDREY
Sorry isn’t good enough. How about not doing it in
the first place? How about don’t cheat on your
wife? How about don’t knock up another woman?
Do you have any idea how hard it’s been for me?
Having to stop Mum practically killing herself?
Having two siblings I hardly get to see? Having a
stepmother who makes no effort to
include me? HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO
OUR LIVES, DAD? DON’T YOU CARE?
PAUL
No. I obviously don’t. That’s why I fucking did it.