That Elusive Cure 28

“Mum, it’s me!” I called out as I closed her front door behind me. A noise came from upstairs. I slipped off my shoes and went upstairs to join her.

“What are you doing here?” Mum was in her bedroom, her clothes spread out all over the bed and two suitcases open on the floor. “You should leave.”

“Mum, what the hell is going on?” I didn’t have to ask, it was blindingly obvious.

“I’ll not stand for him having some floozy. I’m leaving.” Her cheeks were flushed with anger.

I surveyed the mess. “Where are you going to go?”

Mum threw a handful of underwear in one of the suitcases. “It’s already sorted. I’m going to your auntie Pauline’s.”

“Stop, please.” I grabbed her arm and forced to sit on the bed.

She pushed the shirts out of the way and gave me a sour look.

“Mum, I know what’s going on. Margret isn’t after Dad. Nothing’s going on.”

For a moment I thought she was going to slap me. Then in a very low voice she said, “You’ve met this woman? Behind my back?” Mum chocked back a sob. “How dare you.”

I felt like a traitor. “Honestly Mum, it’s not what you think. She’s with Dave,” I said and readied myself to tell the story the four of us had concocted at the lake.

“Salty Dave?” She shook her head. “I don’t believe it. No one would want to be with that smelly old man. I should have known you’d take your father’s side.” She got up and started to pile trousers on top of the underwear.

“Mum, you’ve got to stop.” I grabbed at her again, but she slipped from my grasp and swung. She’d grabbed a hairbrush and before I could see what was coming at me, clocked me on the chin. “Jesus, Mum. What the hell?”

“Get out of my house.” She pointed at the door, her lips pursed into a thin line.

“Look, you’re right. I wasn’t telling you the truth.”

Mum’s hand dropped a bit, but her expression darkened. “What a surprise. Tell me then. Admit it. He’s been cheating.”

How had Dad not noticed things had got so bad?

“Mum, he’s planning a surprise party for your 50^th wedding anniversary.”

For a moment, she seemed frozen to the spot, the colour draining out of her face. “Whaaa,” she managed to say, then collapsed onto the edge of the bed.

“You know Dad, he’s about as useful as a wet rag planning these things, so when Margret joined the Old Codger’s Club he asked her to help.”

“I – I – I found texts on his phone. For meet ups.”

“Yes,” I said and took her hands.

“And they kept mentioning the date of our anniversary. I thought he’d forgotten the date and how ironic it was that he planned to leave me on that day.”

I shook my head and passed her a tissue as the tears began to fall.

“I wasn’t going to let him think he was getting one over me. That’s why I decided to leave.” She was really crying now. “But the texts I found, they make sense now.”

“Oh Mum.” I sat next to her and we cuddled, her shaking with sobs and me not much better.

Suddenly, Mum pulled back. “Your father can’t know.” She glanced about the room. “And you can’t tell him I know about the party.”

“I’ll help you put the clothes back.”

She touched my chin gently, tears welling up in her eyes as I winced. “I’m so sorry about hitting you. I don’t know what came over me.” Mum shook her head.

“I understand, Mum. At least I know you still love Dad,” I said, smiling.

“You are telling the truth? He’s not cheating, he’s planning a party?”

“Yes Mum. I wouldn’t cover up something like that. Ever.”

Mum nodded, and we hugged briefly. I stepped back and surveyed the room. In her haste, Mum had pulled shirts from their hangers and tossed them onto the floor, jackets and jumpers half-hung off the bed in messy piles. Looked like she’d not started on the shoes yet. According to my watch, Dad would be at least another hour. We had plenty of time to sort out the mess and for me to get Mum downstairs and feed her sweet tea to calm her down. Mascara trails ran down her cheeks, she’d have to give her face a wash as well.

My phone beeped and for a second I ignored it. There’s something about phones and their insistent sounds. I just can’t resist. Hoping it wouldn’t be Janie asking about me being cured I glanced at the screen to see Jimmy’s name.

“What’s he want?” I said more to myself than Mum and clicked on the message.

He’s coming. Only two words, but they gave me an unpleasant shiver.

Who’s coming? I replied and went back to helping Mum.

The reply came almost instantly. The scientist. He’s showing up at ours in an hour.

“Shit, that idiot.” I slammed the phone down on the bed. There must have been something fantastic in the sample. Some new thing the scientist had never seen. Now he knew our home address. How long before Jimmy was seduced into showing him the church?

“What’s wrong?”

Mum’s short hair was uncharacteristically ruffled. I stared, noticing how the white overwhelmed her once blonde colouring. A few weeks ago I might have had a surge of jealousy, getting old seemed such an impossible dream. Now… well, I had a chance. Old age was within my grasp so long as my bumbling other half didn’t allow the machine to get spirited away from us. She noticed my staring and smoothed her hair.

“It’s Jimmy. He’s up to stupid stuff again.”

Mum hung up a shirt. “What’s he up to this time?”

I tried to think of something, some story that she would believe, but I wasn’t a natural liar. I sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “It’s a long story.” I glanced at the clock. “I’ve got just over half an hour before I’ve got to be home. Jimmy’s about to mess it all up and I’ve got to stop him.”

Mum raised her wrinkled her forehead in curiosity and eyed the last items scattered around the room. “Mess what up?”

“A cure.”

Mum boggled at me. “Are you serious?”

I nodded, rubbing the material of a silk scarf between my fingers and avoiding eye contact.

“A real cure?” She took a step towards me.

“To be honest we don’t know for sure yet. My scan is tomorrow.”

“So this is something the doctors did? A new treatment?” She’d abandoned the last of the clothes.

“No…” How could I explain? As all good stories had to be told, I decided, at the beginning. “It’s complicated.”

Mum picked up a few pairs of trousers. “Mind if I keep going?”

I nodded and took a deep breath. “It all started a few weeks ago when I met this woman named Janie up at Clatterbridge.”