Yes Chef, No Chef - By Susan Willis Page 0,59
standing at the drinks cabinet and remembered how long those three weeks had seemed when he was little and she simply hadn’t been there. He’d cried himself to sleep at night because he missed her so much and on the third morning had rolled over in bed onto a cold damp sheet and realised he’d wet the bed. The tetchy housekeeper tutted at him when he ate his cornflakes and grumbled under her breath about the extra washing, and although dad told him mum would be coming back after she’d had a little holiday on her own, he’d felt desolate. He hadn’t been able to understand why she’d wanted to go on holiday without him and Jenny because they’d always had such great, fun-packed holidays. And eventually when she had returned he’d often seen her wiping tears away from her eyes and forcing a bright smile onto her face. He’d followed her around the house for days and hadn’t wanted to go to school just in case she’d disappeared again when he got back, and even though she’d promised him faithfully that she’d never leave again, the morbid fear of losing her had never been very far from his mind.
She put a glass of orange juice onto the coffee table in front of him and he started to tell her about Kate and the argument and everything that had happened. She didn’t comment or interrupt but just sat next to him stroking his hand and smiling with encouragement for him to get it all out of his system. Her eyes filled with tears when he told her about the drinking and she squeezed his hand tightly more with concern and fear than upset, but still she didn’t speak until he finally came to a halt.
“And that’s about the gist of it…” he said sadly and looked across the room to a beautiful arrangement of white lilies and green foliage in a huge vase.
She followed his eyes. “I sent Katie some flowers when it first happened and a note telling her how much I’d miss her,” she said wistfully. “Because I will…”
“Not half as much as I do,” he mumbled.
She sighed, “Is there no way you can patch things up? I mean, what did she say when you talked to her?”
Feeling more in control now he released his hand from hers to drink the juice. “We didn’t talk. I mean, she emailed me and I answered her,” he said gulping the juice down greedily. His mouth was dry and he suddenly felt a wave of tiredness sweep over him. Emotional upset always made his body feel weary and he had to fight the urge to lie down on the settee.
She was aghast and looked in amazement at him. “So you haven’t even tried to explain or tell her what you’ve just told me?”
“No, I haven’t,” he said petulantly and shuffled uneasily. “She was the one who walked out, Mum, so I figure she should be the one to come and talk to me…” he said avoiding her eyes. “I mean, I’d always thought she was with me for keeps, and I couldn’t believe she would simply run out just because we were having a few tricky weeks.”
She shook her head slowly in obvious disbelief but before she had time to say anything more he butted in and bristled indignantly. “Oh here we go, I thought you, at least, would be on my side? So you’re telling me it’s all my fault?”
She took a large gulp of her wine. “No, of course I’m not, Tim,” she said, “I’m not taking anyone’s side, but it was a lot more than a few tricky weeks and you have to take some responsibility for what’s happened, darling.”
He stood up and started to pace around the room while she sat looking unhappily at him.
“You’re so much like your father,” she mused to herself.
Suddenly he swung around to face her with temper flashing in his eyes. “Don’t say that. I’m nothing like him!” he practically snarled at her. “I’ll never be a big shot, workaholic like him.”
“Your father is a good man, Tim,” she said defensively. “He is a man of great character and principles.”
“Yeah,” he snorted. “It’s a pity he wasn’t a family man and work had been more important to him than being around to see us grow up.”
She went to him and tried to stroke his arm but he pulled away from her and for the second time that afternoon he felt tears weren’t