Ros

In Old Aberdeen, two couples sat around a dinner table.

‘Happy Birthday!’ Smiling, Ros raised her glass.

‘Cheers!’ Nic joined in the toast, his voice flat.

‘Thanks.’ Cath Munro, his mother-in-law, beamed from ear to ear. ‘It was lovely of you both,’ her glance flicked from one to the other, ‘to invite us.’

‘Lovely of you guys to come. Bearing gifts to boot. I thought the catering was our prerogative. Not that I’m objecting.’ Ros took a sip of her wine, swirled the liquid around her mouth. ‘This is delicious. And two bottles?’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Way too generous.’

Cath shrugged. ‘Don’t look at me. That’s your dad’s department.’

‘Pushing the boat out, aren’t you?’ Nic reached for the bottle. He scrutinised the label. ‘There must be a tenner’s worth here, at least. I don’t know how you can afford…’

‘On a pension?’ Phil Munro quipped. ‘An old stick like me?’ He grinned. ‘I’ve a few years to go yet. But you’re right, Nic, I can’t afford this, not for everyday drinking. Usually make do with a four quid bottle of Chilean Merlot from Aldi. But this is a special occasion and,’ he cast a loving look at his wife then turned to Ros, ‘your mum is worth every penny, don’t you agree?’

‘Absolutely,’ Ros concurred. She lifted the lid off a casserole, releasing a steaming cloud of herb-scented sauce. ‘Now dig in.’ She gestured to the serving dishes of vegetables. ‘It’s not like you don’t know us well enough.’

I wish! As she watched her father carefully fill her mother’s plate, Ros reflected on the lead-up to their visit. It was November. She and Nic had been ensconced in their old Ikea sofa, dinner digested, dishes washed, baby bedded, when:

‘I was wondering…’ Tentative voice. ‘It’s Mum’s birthday next month and, given we didn’t see them at Christmas, I thought it might be an idea to invite her and dad.’

Nic’s head had shot up from the car magazine he’d been leafing through. ‘To stay over, do you mean?’

‘It wouldn’t be for long. Just the birthday, perhaps a day either side.’

‘That’s what you said last time, and they were dug in for over a week.’

Her cheeks flamed. ‘That’s not fair. Last time was different. They were doing us a favour, if you remember.’

‘So they were. I’m sorry.’ Playfully, he chucked her chin.

‘Me, too. I shouldn’t have disturbed you while you were trying to read.’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ He let the magazine slip through his fingers. ‘Not that I’d have got peace for long. Not with your wee man upstairs.’

My wee man? She was getting the blame for the baby, now. Or becoming paranoid, the thought occurred.

‘Fancy a beer?’ His voice broke her reverie. ‘It is Friday after all.’

‘Cheers.’ She smiled. ‘That would be great. And my folks, what do you think? It’s months since they’ve seen Max, and he’s shooting up. Grawin awa like a wee mushroom, one of the nursery staff said today.’

‘Let’s leave it for a week or so. See how the calendar’s looking.’

‘But…’

‘It won’t be too late.’ He shot a warning glance. ‘It’s not as if they have a full diary.’

‘I suppose.’

He stood. ‘I’ll fetch us that beer.’

Ros smiled to herself. So much for never asking a man for anything until you’ve fed him. Still, it had all come right, this birthday celebration, and it would come right with Nic as well. Once he was on top of the job. Once Max was that wee bit older. Once she wasn’t so tired.

She gazed fondly across at her mum and dad. They were so comfortable in their own skins, so at ease with one another. A warm glow engulfed her. Talk about role models!

‘Let me top you up.’ Nic was in expansive mood. He circled the table, poured an inch of wine into each of their glasses, filled his own to the brim.

Ros caught her dad’s eye. Winced. Why did her husband have to behave like such a dick? It’s not as if he wasn’t brought up to have good manners. On that first visit to her prospective in-laws – their only visit, now she came to think on it – they’d gone out for a meal one evening. But other than that…

A fleeting thought crossed her mind. She’d never observed Nic’s family sit down to a meal together. From what she’d gathered, his parents seemed to follow their own pursuits. Unlike her own, who were a picture of togetherness. The very thought brought a smile to her lips. It dropped when she remembered how her own parents had reacted to Nic. They hadn’t taken to him, either of them. Not that anything was said, but Ros knew. She’d hoped, over time, they’d warm to him. After all, she consoled herself, it wasn’t as if he constantly behaved with such ill grace.

She looked across the table. Nic’s glass was already half empty. Her heart sank. She hoped he didn’t push for opening the second bottle. If his mood were to change… She knew all too well what that could mean. Her dad’s head was bowed, her mum patently enjoying the food in front of her. Such a treat to have something set down to you, wasn’t that what she always said? Inwardly, she sighed. If they only lived closer, she’d have help with the baby. Someone to confide in, at least, instead of letting her anxieties get out of hand.

Ros took another sip of her wine, happy that – despite the undercurrents in the room – her mum, at least, seemed blissfully unaware.