“Sorry that I never ask how you are,” I said, angry with myself for not being a better daughter. “I think children forget that their parents are people too.”
“I’ll be okay. Once I get this eating sorted,” she said, moving chicken around the plate. “It’s horrible, I get this lump in my throat whenever I put anything to my lips. Then I have to concentrate on forcing it down. It’s just not worth it. And these last few months, having to see Roy throughout this whole thing, it’s been so drawn out. . . . Well, I haven’t bothered to even try eating. I’ve been living on tea.”
“Maybe you can try what I do,” I started. “When it’s really bad, I imagine that there’s a bird in my stomach, and that the butterflies and the churning is the bird flapping, asking for food. And when I eat, and feed the bird, the flapping will stop.”
“I don’t like birds, Queenie,” my mum said fearfully. “Especially pigeons, they’re horrible.”
“I don’t like birds either, but you know what I mean, Mum.”
She put a forkful of food into her mouth and chewed slowly. “Feed the bird,” I encouraged her. She swallowed, her face contorting with discomfort. I poured her a glass of water.
“Thank you. You’re so caring, you know. I don’t know where you got that from.” She took a sip of water and ate another forkful.
“You’re caring, Mum,” I said. “I must get it from you.”
She smiled and loaded more food onto her fork than before. “Do you think you’ll go back to work?” she asked. I shrugged in response, really not wanting to go into it.
We sat quietly together until she finished chewing. She put down her fork and looked at me. “Do you know what?” my mum said. “I think you’ve changed history in this family. You’re the first person to go to counseling and not get disowned by Mum and Dad. That’s bigger than being the first Jenkins to go to university.”
“But I also might be the first person in the family to be fired.”
“Queenie, we’ve all been fired from every job we’ve ever had. Have you ever spoken to your grandmother about her career history? And you should definitely talk to Maggie about the time she got fired from Blockbuster for recording over the videos. Ask her what she did to the manager to get revenge.” My mum picked up her fork and took another bite of dinner. “What happened at work?”
“It’s a long story that I’m not going to go into,” I said, “but what I will tell you is that I had a great job and I’m pretty sure I’ve thrown it, and my whole life, away.”
“No such thing,” my mum said. “You’ve just turned twenty-six, your life hasn’t even begun. I had you just after I turned twenty-six. Best year of my life.” She chewed another forkful of food, smiling.
* * *
“It’s nearly my last session, Granddad. Only one left.” I couldn’t think what else I could say to break the silence in the dining room, so took a chance on engaging in some therapy chat.
“That’s good,” he said sternly. “And wha’ yuh going to learn today?”
“Well,” I began, bewildered that he’d asked me a question about it, “I’m not sure. One of the most helpful techniques I had to learn was safe spaces, so maybe we’ll revisit tha—”
“Wha’ dat?”
“A safe space is sort of like a mental place you go to cope with things,” I explained. “It’s all in the mind.”
“Mi’ shed used to be mi’ safe space until you put all of yuh tings in deh,” he said, getting up from the table.
“Queenie, your phone is going off!” my grandmother shouted from the kitchen. I followed the sound of my phone, but by the time I located it, it had rung off. I had a voice mail, annoyingly.
“Queenie, hi, it’s Gina. I hope things are better. Right, I’ll make this quick because I know that voice mails are awful and that everybody hates them. Take some time to think about this, but not too much time, obviously. The investigation fell apart when one of the security guards said that he’d seen Ted leading you into the disabled loos—I don’t want or need to know what you did in there, but ultimately his actions don’t seem like those of a person being coerced, so everyone thinks it’s best that we drop it. Nobody wants a scandal, let alone a newspaper. You’ll have to sign a weekly timesheet for the first month or whatever because you’ll be back on a trial basis but don’t be too scared of that, it’s just protocol. Give me a call by the end of the week. In fact, can you just give me a call in the next hour so that we can just wrap this all up and move on, thanks.”
“Who was that? You look like you’ve just seen a duppy,” my grandmother said.
“Nobody,” I croaked, sitting down in the nearest chair.
“Lie you ah’ tell,” she accused me.
“No, it’s fine,” I said, standing up on shaking legs. “I’m going to therapy now.”
“Are you sure you’re in a state to cross London?” my grandmother asked as I grabbed my bag and walked out the front door. “I’m not coming to get you again. I’ve just put the pot on.”
* * *
“I know that you want to do some final techniques today, but something very shocking has come up,” I said to Janet as soon as she opened the front door an inch. “My boss has asked me to go back to work.”
“Well, that’s wonderful news!” Janet smiled.
“Is it? Is it, Janet?” I asked, my head swimming.
“Yes, Queenie. This day was always going to come, and I think we can agree that it’s going to be less demanding going back into a job you already know than having to search for a new one. Sit down, please.”
I threw myself into the chair opposite Janet. “But I am not ready, Janet,” I said, gripping the arms of the chair.
“Says who?”
“Do you, a trained professional, think that I’m ready?”
“I don’t see why not. We’ll have to adjust this session to work on some coping methods, but all in all, I think that this can only be a good thing. It’s a real positive. And even though our run is over, I’ll always be here. You aren’t as alone you think.”
chapter
TWENTY-SEVEN
IF I COULD remember how I felt on the first day of secondary school, I imagine it was exactly like this. My rucksack is packed, my shoes have been shined (metaphorically, but I think that my grandmother might have actually polished them in the night), and I ironed a dress for the first time in ten years, hung it up for tomorrow, and went and found my grandmother giving it a going-over ten minutes later.
Darcy insisted she’d meet me in the square outside the office to quite literally ease me back in, which was one less thing to worry about. If I couldn’t walk, I could be carried.
I had a bath at 8 p.m., said good night to my grandparents, and got into bed. I was feeling very wholesome. I set my alarm for 7:30 a.m. and settled into bed. Sleep came easily. Success. Maybe I was a changed person.
* * *
I woke up and checked my phone: 2 a.m. I was wide awake. Why had I never felt this alert when it was time to go to work?
“Come on, come on,” I sighed, turning over in the bed.
“Queenie? What’s wrong?” I heard my grandmother shout from her bedroom.
“Nothing!” I whispered. “Just talking to myself.”
“Guh ah yuh bed. Yah ’av work ina di’ marnin.’?”
At 4 a.m., I was still awake. At 5 a.m., I was even more awake. At 6 a.m., dawn started to break and the birds in the garden started to sing. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep.
At 7 a.m., I heard my grandmother stirring. She shuffled into my room. “Are you sleeping?” she asked, full volume.
“Even if I had been, that would have woken me up. Morning,” I said, stretching to full length and simultaneously burying my head in the pillows.
“I’m putting the hot water on. Come down for your porridge and wait for it to warm,” my grandmother said as she trotted down the stairs, her dressing gown trailing behind her.
“I’m not hungry,” I whispered after her so as not to wake my granddad.
“You think she’s letting you leave here without breakfast?” he yelled from their bedroom.
* * *