Stacy relented to staying with her parents for a couple of weeks, taking the time in paid leave from the library. However, her supervisor had told Stacy that she needed to have a serious think about things, before she came back, because she’d been taking far too much time off work lately.
‘Do we bore you, Stacy? Are you thinking of leaving us or something? You really don’t seem to have the same motivation you used to have. Or are there difficulties we need to be advised about?’
‘Well, I have had some, er, personal problems recently but I’m just about on top of all that now. So when I get back everything will be different, I promise.’
She couldn’t go back just yet though because her flat wasn’t ready, for one thing. Her father was still busy trying to sort it out during the evenings after his farm work, doing the long drive to her flat and back twice a day. Stacy did feel a bit guilty about that. He always worked very hard, her father; she’d give him that. But she surprised herself by acknowledging that she did want to stay with her parents and try to patch up some of the holes in their relationship. She’d been away eight long years and not seen them in all that time. She’d only spoken to her mother once on the phone, when she first moved into her flat. Yet her mother hadn’t responded with much enthusiasm when she’d asked how they were.
‘Oh, you know,’ she’d said. ‘Everything’s pretty much the same, as usual. Nothing much changes around here.’
Her mother’s complacency had left Stacy feeling empty. Why hadn’t her mother said she’d missed her? And even though her parents had never expressed loving feelings of any kind – even to the point of them never having kissed either of their children goodnight when they went to bed – Stacy would secretly have liked her mother to have told her, just once in her life, that she was loved and missed. But no one had ever told her she was loved. Not even Mike, although she had loved him. So that was the reason Stacy had stopped calling her parents all those years ago. There was no point looking for love where it did not exist. She knew she had to try and find it elsewhere.
So whilst she stayed with them, she helped her mother, like she used to do, washing and cleaning and even collecting the apples. Their house looked tired and dated and Stacy mentioned this to her mother who said, ‘Decorating is your dad’s department, love. But he’s always busy with other things. Anyway, he’s busy with your flat at the moment, isn’t he?’
Her mother even persuaded Stacy to let her cut her hair, sitting on the old three-legged stool with her knees nearly up to her chin, in the middle of the kitchen, while she snipped away like she used to. It completely irked Stacy that she’d acquiesced to allow her mother to do that on this occasion, like she was still a little girl, even though her hair had needed sorting out. Yet it was just another thing, Stacy realised, she hadn’t been able to do because of the cats. The amount of time it took looking after her cats had meant they’d prevented her from organising essential life events like dental appointments, having a haircut or doing the weekly shop. Perhaps it was best, all around, that they’d gone to other homes. But she knew she’d miss seeing them once she stepped back into her newly decorated flat.
‘Seems funny that I used to cut both yours and Peter’s hair with these old scissors. But there now. Your hair looks much better shoulder length and I’ve given you that fringe so you won’t need those awful hairbands. Right, now keep still a while longer and I’ll plait it, like I used to. You can keep this old scrunchie. You could easily plait your hair yourself, you know. Plaits keep that wild hair of yours tame. Plus, you’ll see how pretty it looks. Much more feminine. Unfortunately, you got that frizz from your dad’s side of the family. But plaiting it will help with that. There you are. What do you think? You look so much better now!’
Every afternoon Stacy would wander down the potholed drive, which her parents had done nothing about fixing since she was little. That took her onto the lower road and then down the hill to the village. Her mum was right in one respect, that everything pretty much was the same. A few people had added extensions to their homes, though. She was especially keen to see the old village school because it had been one of her favourite escapes from her oppressive childhood. When she saw it nostalgia swamped her. The climbing frame was still in place. But no sand pit. Of course, it looked smaller than she remembered, as she leaned on the outside railings, looking in. Then she went round the corner and found the brook and sat on the bank a while, playing games on her phone. It was good to feel the fresh air on her face and relive old memories. It was even good to be doing something other than working and looking after her cats for a change.
The run-down pigsty where Mike had stayed had been knocked down and turned into a proper studio flat for Bob, who had worked for her father, since Mike left. He ate with them each night, as usual. He was a lot older than Mike and nowhere near as fanciable! Her father came and went each day grumbling about this and that, or with news that Stacy’s flat was nearly ready. She wondered if her mother would be sad to see her go but didn’t really care either way what her father thought.
When the time came for them to say goodbye, Stacy could see that her mother was fighting to keep her tears at bay. Ah! So maybe her mother did care a little about her then, in her own way? But she wasn’t going in the car with them. Stacy relented and gave her mother an awkward hug. It felt so strange hugging her mother. It was something she’d never done before. She was surprised to note that her mother’s clothes smelt of mothballs and she felt very thin. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d touched her mother.
‘Bye, Mum. Look, when I’m settled I’ll ring you and you’ll both have to come for a proper visit or maybe I can cook lunch or something for you.’
Her mother had nodded, a handkerchief in front of her face, probably masking her real feelings about everything, Stacy hoped.
Her father had driven his daughter home without a word passing his lips. Stacy had spent the entire journey just looking out of the window. There was no way she could make conversation with him for the whole journey. But when he dropped her off outside her block of flats she did assent to thank him for his trouble.
‘Thanks for everything, Dad. Um, I’m sorry I’ve caused you some grief. I’ll see you soon.’
‘See you later then,’ was all he could manage, looking out of the car window as Stacy got out of the car.
Stacy kept walking without looking back. She could tell he’d paused for a moment because his engine was still idling. But whether it was to check on something or whether he was thinking about how different their lives could have been if only he’d been a more loving father, she could only wonder. At least she’d finally broken the ice with her parents again. So maybe there was a tiny ray of hope about striking up a better relationship with them in the future. She also wanted to phone Peter and catch up with his news.
‘But first,’ she said firmly – and she slid the thank you card, from her mother’s old box of cards, under John’s door and then inserted the key in the door of her own flat.
The change was dazzling!
As she walked from room to room in wonder, she could see all the walls had been repainted in an off-white colour, which brightened everything considerably. The bathroom had been scrubbed and was gleaming and there were no piles of dirty washing lying about. Even her washing had been done and put away!
‘Oh, wow!’
It was as though Mary Poppins had come in and swished a magic wand and everything had sorted itself out. Everything was clean and tidy and the piles of paperwork and books that had been stacked on the lounge table had been whisked away into a new low-level cupboard, which had been added to the room. Oh, that would be useful as she’d never had enough storage for everything before. Her sofa had been replaced by another infinitely better one. It was not new but that didn’t matter. Her old one had been stinky with cat pee. The disgusting lounge carpet had been replaced with laminate flooring. Her torn cat-pee-stained duvet had also been replaced. And there was food and fresh milk in the fridge.
What a difference!
And it was a very pleasing difference, she was happy to note. A tear escaped down her cheek, as the enormity of all the changes finally hit her and as she realised she had even more reason to be thankful to her father.
However, it was completely silent and that was an experience she was not used to! No little Pooch or Chater was there to come and welcome her or wind around her legs, expecting their dinner. Stacy sighed despondently. No longer having her little kitties would take some getting used to; she knew that for a fact.