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‘That’s great! What does that mean for you?’Please tell me it means you can come home, I think but don’t say.
‘It means this is where the hard work really begins. She can start at the support group as soon as she’s discharged, but I’ll need to stay with her to begin with, to make sure she doesn’t relapse in the evenings.’
I try not to let the disappointment show in my voice. ‘Any idea how long that will take?’
‘At the moment, I have no idea. I’m sorry. I know all this is making life difficult for you, and I will come back as soon as I can. It’s just that this hospital stay seems to have woken Mum up to herself. She says she’s determined to kick the booze this time, and reckons she’ll do it with my help. I’m going to move in with her for a couple of weeks, if that’s okay, until she’s a bit stronger and she’s settled into the intensive therapy.’
Another two weeks? My heart sinks at the prospect, but an idea comes to me.
‘Maybe you could bring her down here?’ I suggest. ‘A fresh start and all that? It might be just what she needs.’
‘That’s not a bad idea. ‘I’ll give it some thought. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I bumped into Liam yesterday.’
‘Who?’
‘The guy who gave me the scar. He works for one of the local churches now, would you believe? He goes into schools and youth groups and talks to them about the dangers of gang culture, and his experiences. He’s completely different from the way he was when I saw him last. Sadly, we couldn’t have much of a catch-up because he was on his way to something. Anyway, enough about me. What about you?’
I fill him in on my day, but don’t tell him how I really feel. He’s got enough on his plate without me making him feel guilty. As we finish the call, I feel desolate. Another two weeks at least. It’s like someone’s punched me in the gut. All I can do is hope that his mum is receptive to the idea of moving down here. Even if Matt has to spend all his time looking after her, at least he’ll be here.
30
Matt’s been gone for four weeks now. The good news is that his mum appears to be thriving in the therapy group. According to Matt, she comes home bright-eyed and full of energy every day and keeps telling him how grateful she is that he’s there for her. Terry, whoever he was, appears to be long gone, and it’s just Matt and his mum in the house.
The bad news is that, every time he mentions coming home, she bursts into tears and says she doesn’t think she’ll be able to cope on her own. He did talk to her about moving down here with him, but she shot that idea down, pointing out that she’d be all alone in an unfamiliar town while he worked all day, and what would there be for her to do except drink? So the stalemate continues, and Matt still has no idea when he’ll be able to come back.
The other piece of bad news is that, after our initial flurry of phone calls, our conversation has started to dry up, so we’re now only talking a couple of times a week. I don’t really have much to tell him about, except the café, and he’s so focused on his mum that I get the impression he’s not really listening a lot of the time. He says he’s told her all about me, that she can’t wait to meet me ‘at some point’, but he doesn’t seem to have any idea when that point might be, and I’m afraid to press him. Every time we talk about when he might be coming back, there’s another reason to delay, so I’ve stopped asking. I can’t bear the disappointment. I feel totally helpless, like he’s slowly slipping away and there’s nothing I can do about it. The only thing I have to hold on to is that all his stuff is still in his flat, which Mick finished ages ago, so he’ll have to come back one day, even if only to collect it.
My body has started to adapt to my punishing schedule, but I still spend large parts of every Sunday asleep. At one point, we did talk about the possibility of me driving up to Peterborough one weekend so we could spend a bit of time together, but it’s a two-hour journey each way and I’m not in any fit state to do a four-hour round trip at the moment. I’m trying hard not to resent his mum, but it’s getting harder.
‘She sounds like a classic narcissist to me,’ Bronwyn observes over Sunday lunch in the flat. Nan and Grandad left for their cruise yesterday, so Katie’s staying with me for the next two weeks, which is nice. I think she’s a bit worried about me, so she and Bronwyn stayed here last night for their movie fest, instead of going to Bronwyn’s house like they usually do. I wasn’t very entertaining company; we sat down to watchSleepless in Seattleat eight o’clock, and Katie had to wake me up and send me to bed ten minutes later because I was snoring.
I’ve had a long lie-in this morning, and Katie and Bronwyn have prepared the roast. It tastes delicious, but the kitchen looks like something has exploded in there. Katie obviously saw the look of horror on my face, because she has promised that they’ll clear it up before they go out this afternoon. They invited me to go for a walk with them, but I’ve said no. I suspect I’ll probably go back to bed at some point after we’ve finished eating.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask her.
‘She reminds me of my grandmother, when she was alive,’ Bronwyn continues. ‘Everything was always about her and, if it wasn’t, she’d kick off in some way to draw the attention back to her. It’s what narcissists do. They think they’re the most important person in the world, and therefore nobody else’s life matters. Matt’s mum sounds just the same. She’s all sweetness and light while she’s the centre of his world, but the moment he talks about leaving, or about you, she has some sort of crisis to make sure he’s completely focused on her.’
‘Well, considering that she was pretty much absent when he was growing up, she’s certainly making up for it now,’ I reply.
‘What’s happening with her therapy?’ Katie asks.
‘Same story. It was supposed to be four weeks intensive, finishing next week, but she’s talked him into paying for another four-week course. She says she’s finding the group incredibly helpful, but doesn’t feel strong enough to strike out on her own yet. She also says she can’t cope without him at the moment, surprise sur-bloody-prise.’
‘Classic narcissism,’ Bronwyn continues. ‘Make her recovery dependent on him so, if he walks away, she can say she tried but he abandoned her.’
‘You’re probably right,’ I tell her. ‘I get the feeling she doesn’t ever want him to come back. Where does that leave me, though?’
‘Have you thought about recruiting another chef, even temporarily?’ Katie asks. ‘You can’t keep this schedule up forever, it’s not good for you.’
I sigh. ‘I know I can’t, but I can’t bring myself to advertise the position. It’s like an admission of defeat, you know? Another nail in the coffin of my relationship with Matt. Also, I’d have to have a conversation with him about stopping his pay, and I know he needs it to support his mum.’
Thankfully, the conversation moves on to other topics as we finish our lunch. Katie and Bronwyn are as good as their word, cleaning the kitchen until it sparkles, while I relax on the sofa and try to stay awake.
‘Right, we’re off to Knole Park,’ Katie informs me. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’
‘No, I might head back to bed for a bit. I’ll see you later, okay?’
I can’t help smiling as I watch them pull on their coats, scarves, and woolly hats. Although they’re both wearing knitted bobble hats, each one reflects the personality of the wearer perfectly. Katie’s is dark blue and fairly plain, whereas Bronwyn’s is a riot of colour, with an enormous bobble on top that swings around whenever she moves her head.
