It Always Rains on Sundays (28 page)

‘I could be dead for all you care' I yelled out.

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There's me thinking I'm late. Then when I get there nobodies even ready. Typical I thought – all that rushing about, then on top of everything else Cyn's blaming me turning-up on the wrong day. ‘Sunday's, your day's Sunday' she persisted.

‘No, I don't think so – we swapped days. Your idea, not mine.'

She's never wrong. So, then she's running around like a headless chicken, trying to catch-up, preparing the children's lunch (so-called more like). Oh, listen, this is a beaut, then it turns out they were waiting for fish-fingers. Yeah, me too (hard to believe, right). This is for two energetic growing kids don't forget. One thing for sure, nothing changes much. Mind you, it's the children I feel sorry for. Both sat at table, too scared to move (half-starved, who knows) staring down at their empty plates with glum-faces, waiting forever for their late, late lunch I expect.

No wonder they looked so unhappy. I'm not surprised. I daren't even tell them about the homemade Desperate Dan-sized meat and potato pie I'd just eaten over at my mother's house.

Looking around, the whole place is a bit of a tip if you ask me – there's a pile of ironing you can hardly see the sky. Cyn too come to think. Boy O boy – I'll say. No madam I thought, we're not looking quite so glammed-up today are we petal, if you're hot-shot, glitzy, jet-set friends could only see you now eh, e.g. wearing baggy jogging-bottoms and a dippy old cardi I'm meaning, hair tied back in a scorched Dalesway tea-towel, slopping around the place in old sneakers.

It surprised me, she's really let herself go.

Cynthia opened a window. ‘We're having a late lunch' she repeated for the third time, waving her spatula staring at sizzling fish-fingers. She turned up the heat (by now the whole kitchen is a haze of acrid blue smoke) she pressed down with the spatula, as if willing them to cook faster. ‘Something cropped-up. I've had to go out on an errand of mercy' Cynthia explained, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. ‘That's why we're having a late lunch.' We both nodded. Everything went quiet. ‘Avril's having her eye-brows lifted' Lucy volunteered bravely from her end of the table. Jamie's head shook ‘Over two grand!' he exclaimed, blowing out his cheeks.

Lucy looked at Jamie, holding her knife like a dagger, then giggled, ‘She's going under the knife' she chanted in a scary voice.

This made them both giggle.

Cyn turned from the stove, waving her spatula, threatening the pair of them, ‘Yes, and you know what happens to sharp noses too I suppose?' She glared (not that I blame them). Let's face it, it's a lot of money to look permanently surprised if you ask me.

Finally the fish-fingers were ready. Cyn rushed over to the table holding the frying-pan ready to dish-out. Both kids looked up expectantly, faces beaming. Somehow or other her shoe must've caught under the mat, making her trip-up, she clipped the edge of the table with the pan, in turn causing her to shoot hot food right across the floor.

We all looked at each other. Both kids stared down at their empty plates. Rightaway Brian pounced onto his
unexpected prize, swishing his tail, pawing gingerly at the red-hot fish-fingers, Cyn stayed remarkably cool I thought. Though, what'd made it worse, she'd left the cupboard door open, then on her way back, she accidently bumped her nose, giving it a sharp knock.

Everybody held their breath, waiting for her to explode.

Again, instead, not saying another word she dived into the fridge. Without further ado, each in turn, she dropped a greeny banana in front of them, then plonked down two cartons of yoghurt.

Lunch served she flounced out, one hand holding her nose.

Trust it to start raining. We sat inside the car waiting at the cross-roads, listening to the steady to and fro thumping of the wiper-blades, looking despondently out at the steady drizzle, trying to decide where to go.

Where do all the other Dad's go?

Good question, more to the point – where to go if it rains?

Then I got an idea. ‘I know, let's all go to Haworth' I said.

Great idea, why hadn't I thought of it before. Haworth village (onetime home of the world famous Bronte sisters) right on our doorstep. Ten minutes drive at the most. There's always plenty to do there, not to mention the locally renowned steam-train.

‘Haworth is so boring' Jamie moaned. ‘Oh no' Lucy repeated. ‘Oh, noooooooo!' they both chorused.

Right behind me I could hear irate drivers honking like mad. Too late I'd already pulled out. This is the trouble we'd been there before, lots of times. Both kids really hated it you could tell. ‘Wait till you see the steam train' I cried, trying to inject a spark of interest. No chance (in my day I'd've been leaping about the platform wild with excitement). In slow crocodile line we trailed slowly up the steep cobble-stone Main Street. Jamie especially, just to show how bored he was he ambled way behind, kicking out at things.

Finally, two ice-creams later (Lucy dropped the first one in a puddle) we stopped at the top of the hill in front of the ancient square-towered stone church, next door to the famous parsonage. I pointed at the weather beaten stonework ‘Great literature has sprung from these very stones' I said.

Jamie rolled his eyes (‘Big deal' I thought he said) – I could be wrong.

Not a great idea. Lucy looked pained. I'd reminded her, she's got a stone inside her shoe, as indeed she had, bless her – so infinitesimal I lost it under my thumb-nail. Also, she's in desperate need of a toilet she whispered.

After that we all trooped into the Bronte museum (it was worth a try at least). Only, this time I made sure to hold Lucy firmly by the hand – last time we came here she managed to get herself lost. I led them into various rooms, ‘This need not be boring' I said. If I'm truthful neither of them were much interested in anything. Again Jamie more so (he takes after his mother, that's why). Last time we were here Cynthia refused to go in, instead she
waited outside, smoking furiously, staring at her watch every five minutes. As things turned out we were all escorted outside under hard looks. Jamie I'm meaning – he'd started ‘touching things' (purposely I thought). He grinned smugly – I could've swiped him one I'll tell you.

What stopped me I don't know.

It finally stopped raining.

After that we all headed for the quaint old Victorian railway station. Then we had a very pleasant trip on the renowned Haworth via Oxenhope Worth valley steam train (well, I enjoyed it at least). Things were looking up – that is until Lucy got soot in her eye, she's yowling her head off. We all ended up sitting in the back of an ambulance, this is for over an hour at least.

Time to go, then on our way home we all piled into a big country pub (why didn't I think of it before). After we'd eaten the kids raced off over to the Wacky Warehouse to let off steam for an hour or so while I enjoyed a leisurely pint of beer.

Oh, here's a thing too.

What happened is when we all got back to DeLacey Street, nobodies home. No doubt Cyn's next door over at Avril's house. So, what's new, right – no problem. Though, what did surprise me some is my latch-key not working, for some strange reason it didn't fit the lock. Meantime, both kids shot off through a well-worn gap in the hedge, a short-cut into next door. Me and the cat kind've looked at each other, he's like me I expect, both wandering why I can't even get into my own house.

‘Me and you both brother' I said aloud.

Odd to say the least – I've left a message on Cyn's answerphone, telling her to give me a call A.S.A.P. or even sooner.

10:00pm. Look at the time. Cyn's just decided to return my call – oh, finally I thought. She's wanting to know, how come I've got her new number (yes, that's what I thought). She sounded a bit put out. I told her it must've been a lucky guess. Imagine that, her changing her number without even telling me – as a matter of fact I got it off Jamie.

‘You might've mentioned it' I said.

There was a pause. ‘Why, is it important?'

Amazing – how I kept my temper I don't know. ‘Lots of things. No big deal or anything, making sure the kids are okay for one thing. That's what parents do, right. No big deal or anything.'

NO BIG DEAL. I'm trying not to say that – it's really stupid.

‘Look, I have to run. We're going out' Cynthia said.

‘Huh?' (I looked at my watch). Who goes out at this time of night? What is she a burglar? I wouldn't've minded, I've been waiting for her to call me. So, then I said. ‘Listen. That's something else too, about my door-key not working, has something happened with the lock? I couldn't get into the house.'

There was another pause. ‘Get in? I'm not with you, why would you want to get into the house anyway – we're supposed to be separated?'

She was going too fast. ‘Right, I agree. Just for now
we are – temporary. No big deal or anything.'
(NO BIG DEAL OR ANYTHING!)

What next I wondered? First it's the phone-number, now the locks (
unbelievable
) she's even changed the locks? She was waiting for me, I was too busy being incredulous. ‘That's what a trial separation means' Cyn continued filling the gap. ‘That's the arrangement, demarcation lines, just for the time being, that's all. Plan B, if I'm not at home the kids go round to Avril's. What's simpler than that? No big deal or anything.'

You think – you call that simple?

‘Wonderful, I can't even get into my own house. I'm outside with the fucking pussy-cat, right?'

She changed the subject. ‘Oh, by the way. What's happened to Lucy's new dress? She landed home, looking like a little savage. She had it bought especially for her birthday over in the States – her pocket was completely hanging-off.'

Don't say I've forgot Lucy's birthday too?

I tried to think of an answer (Wacky Warehouse you can bet – slide probably). That's what kids do isn't it? ‘That's what kids do isn't it?' I said.

Cynthia thought so too. ‘When they're with you, you mean?'

Anything to start an argument – this is what she's like.

‘You just let them run wild and amok. Out of sight, out of mind, that's your trouble.' Next, it's Jamie's trainers ‘The soles almost come right off one of them' she complained in a whiny voice.

Don't worry, this comes up quite a few times. What
Cyn spends on trainers, you could feed a family for a whole year in some countries. In my day you could buy them off the local market out of mantelpiece change. ‘Don't talk to me about kids shoes' I said. All of a sudden her voice softened (it's different when she wants something). It turns out she'd just thought of something else. ‘Oh yes, I was going to ask you. About next weekend Colin? What it is, it's the quarter-finals of the North West line-dancing competition.'

I waited. ‘Oh yes?' No doubt she'd be wanting me to miss out on my turn for the kids.

I was right. ‘We were thinking of staying over in Blackpool, okay with you?'

Something else too, it's always ‘we' – I hear it quite a lot. Then, something Lucy said earlier in the car on our way back. About Uncle Kevin I'm meaning (not the first time I'd heard it) he was a great laugh by all accounts, also he'd fixed her skate-board that time too. Then another time they'd all been to see this fantastic film all about Dalmatians. Lucy said he makes her laugh – ‘All the time!' No wonder (he barked the whole way home in the car), I'm not surprised. He sounds quite a turn, it got me thinking.

Something's going on I can tell.

No wonder I can't sleep. Then later in bed, my mind's all over the place – all these mental pictures. One by one, faces I'd seen. Cyn's so-called ‘in crowd,' her new jet-set friends I'm meaning, the whole merry gang (where to start) –
a favourite Uncle that barks?
Okay, let's do it. First off there's Clyde the Wallet. Nah, we've
already met (him and his moustache). No-way, besides he's more than enough on his plate already, being married to ditzy Avril, that's for sure.

Also, I ruled out anybody I thought might be too old. Take my word Cyn's toy-boy material I'll tell you that now. Then, there's the fat guy from the pub who yodels whilst juggling a bowl of mixed fruit at the same time – uh uh. Next in line, then comes the Tampa twins, Clyde's business associates from over in the States (adult twins – weird right?) Imagine that, grown-ups dressing exactly the same? Gays I dismissed rightaway, platonic friendships are out – who needs time-wasters. These ladies are on the make, amen.

So far I hadn't come up with anybody.

Finally, then there's this other man, this taller guy, him with this big mop of bright red hair. Rightaway, I crossed him off the list too. Ask anybody you like. Cyn really hates red hair. So, okay, maybe in a certain light some people might've described the fellow as ruggedly handsome I suppose. That dimpled chin had me a bit worried too I have to admit. Without the hair who knows, he could've been a definite maybe. This is the trouble where women are concerned – you never know.

One thing for sure he certainly lost points for not wearing a hat.

Then, all the way driving home in the car my mind raced – I can't help thinking about it. Finally I said ‘Who's this Uncle Kevin by the way? (
had I said it or thought it?
) … Thought it thank God.

My mind raced – I was getting paranoid. I tried to
push it out of my mind. Then later, on our way back I thought maybe we'd call in at Stoney Bank Street on a surprise visit, say a quick hello to their grandmother. ‘Oh noooooo!' they both moaned loudly in unison. You'd've thought she was Cruella (I blame Cynthia, she poisons their minds). I glared, ‘Is that a problem?' I asked in a gravelly voice.