Thirty-five
Beth had been asking to meet James’s family since they’d first got back together in the summer, and he’d been vague, to say the least. After much cajoling, she managed to get him to reluctantly agree to drive up and spend some time with them over the Christmas holidays.
They were heading up north to meet his mum and his two brothers. Beth knew his dad was long gone, James never spoke of him. To be honest, he rarely spoke of his mum and brothers either, and she was intrigued to meet them.
It was Boxing Day; they’d just had a brilliant Christmas with Beth’s family. They’d done all the traditional things; worn their paper hats whilst devouring Nanna and Pat’s delicious turkey dinner, listened to the Queen’s speech, and sat immobile on the sofa whilst enduring the Christmas episode of EastEnders. The evening ended with Nanna’s turkey and homemade pickle sandwiches, accompanied by an episode of The Royle Family. Don and James had a similar sense of humour, and Beth watched proudly as they laughed together. James fitted in well with her family. Nanna was less wary of him now. She even made him an extra sandwich, a real commendation.
Beth was sincerely hoping James’s mum, Shirley, was going to be lovely, just like her own mum. She wanted to get on as well with her as James did with her parents. It was important to her, as far as she was concerned James was her future, and she wanted to make a good impression on the person she hoped might one day be her mother-in-law.
It was beginning to concern Beth how quiet James was on the drive up. ‘Are you OK?’
‘Of course.’
‘You’re not very talkative.’
‘Just tired.’
‘Well, yes, The Royle Family are exhausting by anyone’s standards,’ she joked.
‘Look, I’m just concentrating on the road. Motorways are dangerous if you keep chatting.’ He seemed a bit snappy. It surprised her.
‘Are you not looking forward to seeing your family? It’s been ages since you came back up.’
‘Yeah! I can’t flamin’ wait.’ There was sarcasm in his voice.
At this point, Beth could no longer kid herself that things were fine. Of course, she’d been worried when he hadn’t seemed keen to introduce her to them before. But she’d told herself over and over there was probably a good explanation for why he hardly ever went up there. The petrol was expensive and it was a long drive, that kind of thing. But she couldn’t fool herself any longer. He was clearly not looking forward to seeing his mum or his brothers, and he wasn’t happy about her seeing them either.
The rest of the journey took place with little chat. Beth wondered what she was heading towards.
‘Here we go.’ James gave a heavy sigh, as he stopped outside a terraced house. The front garden was overgrown and full of strange objects, things not normally associated with a garden; a small fridge, two car batteries and a broken fan heater. James seemed not to notice them.
She followed him down the passageway to the left of the house and in the back door. They made their way through a tiny kitchen, which led to a dark lounge. There was a dreadful, overpowering smell, it was kind of damp and dusty mixed together, like the house was crying out to be aired. She couldn’t say what she’d been expecting, a joyous greeting from the family, perhaps? Excitement that James was home, maybe? In actual fact, the reception they received was lukewarm at best.
Two teenage boys were sitting right in front of the television, watching what appeared to be an awfully violent movie. The curtains were drawn; the room was dingy. The two boys did nothing to acknowledge their guest’s arrival. Absolutely nothing, not even the raising of one eyebrow between them. Beth and James stood, waiting. She kept expecting the boys to notice them and jump up. She thought they might turn off the TV and draw back the curtains. Surely, they had merely lost track of time, and once they realised their big brother had arrived, they would spring into action.
After what was the most excruciating minute of her life, it became clear the boys knew full well they were there, they simply didn’t give a toss.
‘Either of you two ugly bastards going to say hello?’ James sounded angry.
Both the lads grunted, ‘All right?’
James led Beth through the lounge. They had to step over various items of dirty clothing and a couple of full ashtrays before they found themselves in the hall. Once there, she realised why they had entered the house through the back. The entire hallway was blocked by boxes which contained, if the writing on the side was to be believed, televisions and DVD players. This must be a permanent state of affairs, or else James would have knocked at the front door, surely?
He shouted up the stairs, ‘Mum. It’s me. We’re here.’
A voice replied, ‘Coming now.’
Beth waited. They were crammed into the tiny entrance. Squashed together. She could sense James’s embarrassment. Her heart ached for him.
James’s mum appeared at the top of the stairs. She’d clearly been asleep.
Beth knew from the things James had told her, Shirley was about the same age as Pat. However, the woman who came down the stairs appeared old enough to be Beth’s grandmother. In fact, even Nanna looked better. Shirley Collier had not taken care of herself. Her teeth were few and far between and this caused her cheeks to sink inwards. Her sallow skin was not complimented by her nicotine stained hair, which was as dry as straw. As a trainee hairdresser, Beth could easily tell, even at a distance, when someone had done a bad bleach job on themselves.
As she reached them, Shirley gave James a hug and held his face between her hands. ‘Jim.’ She gave a half smile.
Moving on, she gave Beth a cursory hug. They were both stiff. It was not the most natural of greetings for either of them. Shirley smelled strongly of cigarettes. Her clothes, her hair, her skin. Beth tried her hardest not to recoil.
The three of them made their way into the lounge and Shirley drew back the curtains. ‘Turn the fecking television off,’ she barked at the boys.
The slightly older boy spoke. ‘It’s right at the end. Let us just see this one get killed.’
‘NOW.’ Shirley was clearly used to getting her own way in this house. Beth watched in horror as she raised her hand. ‘Wanna clout?’
Both boys shook their heads, and one of them, the one who’d tried to negotiate watching the end of the movie, reached forward and clicked the TV off.
‘Jim’s here. We ain’t watching horror films. Talk to ’em!’
Beth wasn’t sure who Shirley’s instruction was aimed at. Were she and James being told to talk to the boys or vice versa?
Shirley lit a cigarette and grabbed one of the overflowing ashtrays from the floor. She sat herself down on the sofa and inhaled deeply on her Lambert and Butler. No one spoke.
Beth suspected everyone else was as confused by Shirley’s instructions as she was.
‘Well … talk then. They ain’t come all this fecking way to look at your stupid blank faces.’
Ah, it was the boys Shirley had been talking to.
Again, the boys could find nothing more engaging to say than, ‘All right?’ The same question they’d already asked.
James sat down next to his mum. Watching her blow smoke at him, Beth wished he wouldn’t sit so close. He was going to smell as bad as Shirley.
Unable to bear the uncomfortable atmosphere any longer, Nanna’s good manners shone through, and Beth decided to try talking to James’s relatives. ‘Which one of you is the oldest? You both look similar in age.’ It wasn’t an interesting question, but it was something she would need to know, and at the very least it stopped the silence from suffocating them all.
The boy who’d switched the TV off replied, ‘I’m older than him.’ He jerked his thumb towards the other boy. ‘I’m Craig. I’m nearly seventeen.’
The other boy mumbled, ‘I’m Dean. I’m fourteen.’
And that was that. They were back in the silence.
Beth found it almost unbelievable how hard the boys were to talk to. Craig and Dean were not the chattiest of lads. How James had ended up with his sense of humour and easy-going manner, she’d never know.
It was heart-breaking to sit there and realise that these people were his nearest and dearest. She completely understood why he’d taken a job down south, to get away from them. It was evident Shirley loved him, that much was true. During the course of the day, she told him she’d missed him, and made a couple of attempts to make physical contact with him. But she also seemed disconnected from him; in fact, she seemed disconnected from life in general.
Before she’d seen the place, Beth had been expecting some seasonal food. Nanna always made dripping from the turkey, and throughout the days that followed Christmas, they enjoyed it on toast. However, at Shirley’s house, it was clear things were going to be horribly different.
In fact, by 4 p.m. they hadn’t been offered anything at all to eat. Beth’s stomach was rumbling, and all the glorious food of the day before had become a distant memory. The closest they’d come to food was when, not long after they’d arrived, Shirley had barked at her eldest son, ‘Make ’em a brew then,’ and they’d each forced down a mug of weak tea. After that, Craig had switched to beer and seemed to assume they would too.
Remarkably, they had to ask for food. Shirley seemed to have no appetite at all.
‘Have you got anything we could eat, Mum?’
‘Course, Jim. You should’da said.’
Beth tried to hide her surprise. Why the hell would James need to say he was hungry, at four o’clock in the afternoon, after having no lunch, and driving all the way up there?
‘Dean, go and light the oven. You know I can never get the bloody thing to catch properly.’
With trepidation, Dean made his way into the tiny kitchen. There followed a great deal of clicking, accompanied by him swearing under his breath. After several attempts, with a whoosh, they all heard the gas catch light. From the kitchen, Dean shouted, ‘Feckin’ thing!’ and returned to the lounge, sucking his fingers.
‘Stupid prat,’ Craig muttered to himself.
Dean punched Craig hard in the arm. Craig immediately punched him harder. No one but Beth appeared to notice.
‘Get back in the kitchen and see what’s in the freezer. Jim wants some dinner.’ Clearly, Shirley put James high above his brothers.
The food they were offered, when the rather dysfunctional oven managed to cook it, was pizza and fish fingers. The pizza was Margherita, Beth’s least favourite flavour.
Shirley ate one fish finger, declared herself done, and lit another fag. She continued to smoke as the rest ate.
At some point during their ‘meal’ a middle-aged man appeared at the back door and, after some money had changed hands with Craig, he selected one of the TVs and headed off out the back door. Beth wasn’t introduced to him, he didn’t acknowledge her existence.
What with it being Christmas and all, Beth had assumed they’d be drinking alcohol. She’d packed an overnight bag and left it in the car. At home they always had snowballs on Boxing Day. However, the only alcohol they were offered at Shirley’s was beer. It was a cheap brand, which tasted nothing like the deliciously cold beers they’d drunk in Australia. Beth only drank a few sips from her can.
The day dragged on. Shirley fell asleep on the sofa, in-between smokes. The boys put the TV on, and they watched some random Christmas programmes. Then, at about 8 p.m., as Casualty started, James took Beth into the hall and asked, ‘Are you OK to drive home?’
‘I thought …’
‘You’re sober, right? I’ve had too many cans. You can drive my car, yes?’
She wasn’t a confident driver, she’d not long learnt, and her usual trip consisted of home to work, and back. The thought of driving all the way back from Bolton in the dark filled her with dread. Even so, she couldn’t hide the fact she would be delighted to leave. ‘OK. If you direct ‒’
‘Right, well, you’ve seen enough. Let’s go?’
Beth nodded. Staying the night in that house would’ve made her skin crawl anyway.
Lisa had been unusually quiet up to that point. However, at the offer of an early exit, she screamed, ‘For once, your idiot boyfriend is one hundred per cent right. We have definitely seen enough. Take us home.’
Beth picked up her bag, and in less than a minute they were ready to say their goodbyes. The boys had switched back to DVDs and were watching another horror film, whilst Shirley continued to doze on the sofa.
James shook her. ‘We’re going now, Mum. See you.’ He kissed her cheek.
‘OK, Jim.’ She didn’t seem surprised they were about to embark on a long drive in the dark. She didn’t urge them to stay and have more food or play a few party games. Shirley was nothing like Beth’s family.
‘It was … nice to meet you, Shirley.’ Beth wasn’t sure whether to kiss her too.
‘Yes.’ Shirley’s eyes never left her favourite son’s face. She wasn’t interested in Beth.
Outside, they got back into James’s car. Beth adjusted the driver’s seat and turned to wave. But no one was stood on the step. Of course the front door was blocked, they couldn’t have stood on the front step even if they’d wanted to. The odd arrangement with the door aside, they could still have come out of the back door and stood in the front garden. But no, no one wanted to wave them off. No one cared.
Opening the window, Beth took in a breath of cold December air. They both stunk of cigarette smoke, accompanied by a kind of damp washing smell. The drive home was going to have to take place with the windows open.
She waited for James to speak. She wanted to comfort him. She wanted to say how sorry she was that his family hadn’t made more of a fuss. She wanted to say how amazing he was to have originated from that awful place, and to have become the wonderful man he was. She wanted to explain that now she understood why he’d gone to Australia, and why he’d taken the job down south. He needed to be far away, before they dragged him down, and he became one of them. It was clear Shirley didn’t possess the skills to demonstrate her love for her oldest son, on anything other than the most basic level. Beth was just desperately sorry for him and …
‘Don’t!’
‘Don’t what?’
‘Save your pity.’ He knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
‘I just ‒’
‘I said, SAVE IT! You wanted to meet my family. You’ve met them. You sure you’re OK to drive?’
‘I told you, yes, if you direct me.’
‘Follow this road round, turn left at the end. Keep going straight until we hit the M60.’
‘OK. But ‒’
‘Let’s just get the fuck out of here.’ He swallowed hard.