“Professional mourner,” those of us in the know all said.
Mum let out a long despondent sigh. “What is it with this family, Edward? We’re never going to get a lawyer or a doctor, are we?” She turned to look at India again. “At this point I’d settle for an accountant.”
I clocked Dad and his granddaughter share a knowing look, forcing me to wonder if it was Dad who’d put the idea into the girl’s head. I wouldn’t have put it past him. He’d been equally as mischievous when Sal and I were young. From giving us an extra biscuit when Mum wasn’t looking, to not just letting us choose our own bedroom designs but helping with the painting too, Dad wasn’t only fun, he was naughty. He had to have known Mum would go nuts over the latter and while my sister and I could decrybut Dad said,he certainly had no excuse.
I pictured Mum the day she landed home all those years ago. After spending a relaxing week away with friends, she was delighted to hear that Dad had used the time to get on with some DIY and was keen to see his handiwork. Upon entering Sal’s room, Mum was overjoyed. White walls, white bedding, white wardrobes and drawers, my sister had taken minimalist to the extreme. Unlike me, who’d gone for the opposite approach.
Proud of my more personal design scheme, I couldn’t wait for Mum to see it. However, her happy squeals ended when she saw my choice of colour palette. I remembered my confusion when she grabbed the door handle to steady herself once she stepped into my kaleidoscope of reds, blues, purples and yellows…
Mum’s less than enamoured response was understandable. My room was awful. But her instructing Dad to replace it with magnolia was like whitewashing over my personality, even if, as Mum rightly claimed, it did provide for a better sleep.
Shaking away the memory, I grabbed some glasses and poured the wine, while Leo got Ryan, India, and Dad an orange juice.
“Cheers,” Leo said, as he and I sat down with everyone.
“Cheers!” We all raised our glasses in response.
The room fell quiet, and an uneasiness descended. It was the first time I’d come face to face with Mum since she and Wendy the wedding planner had bushwhacked me. I could still feel the awkwardness as Wendy had lowered herself into her MX5, while Mum and I stood at the front door waving her off.
All three of us wore fixed smiles, pretending the morning hadn’t really been a waste of everyone’s time. After that, I might have asked Mum to back off when it came to all things matrimonial, but I hadn’t banned her from talking about them. I’d still expected the wedding to be her first topic of conversation.
I certainly hadn’t anticipated everyone’s radio silence on the matter. Even Sal and Ryan had stopped chatting. I assumed for my benefit. It was as if Mum’s prior behaviour, and, ergo, my impending nuptials, had suddenly become an elephant in the room and as we all sat exchanging uncomfortable smiles, I wondered if that was how it was going to be from then on. Everyone too scared to make small talk should the subject of my wedding come up and send Mum into exuberant overdrive.
I glanced at Leo, who reached for my hand under the table. He gave it a squeeze and discreetly nodded Mum’s way as if I should say something to her.
Realising I didn’t exactly have a choice, I gathered myself ready to break the ridiculous silence. “About the wedding, Mum,” I began.
Ryan leaned towards Sal. “Here we go.”
Evidently not wanting to miss a word of my and Mum’s exchange, my sister shushed him.
Mum’s eyes lit up and she opened her mouth to say something.
“Patricia?” Dad said, before she could get her words out.
Mum turned to look at him, clearly irritated by the interruption.
“Remember what we talked about?” he said, keeping his voice calm.
“But she brought up the subject.”
Dad gave Mum a look and heeding his warning, her shoulders slumped.
“It’s all right, Dad,” I said.
I felt Leo squeeze my hand for a second time and knowing I could be about to lose any control I had over Mum, I steeled myself in readiness. “We just wanted to ask…”
“Yes?” Mum said, her eagerness there for all to see.
“Well, we wondered if you’d like to take charge of the invitations?” I said. “You know, sending them out and keeping tabs on the RSVPs.”
Mum’s whole demeanour changed. A smile slowly spread across her face as she turned to Dad. “See. Didn’t I tell you they’d come round?”
“Come round to what?” I asked.
“Nothing,” Mum said.
“Because if you’re planning on getting ahead of yourself again.”
