Chapter Four (Part One)

Dusk was creeping over head as Jen pushed past the low wooden gate of her parents’ house. As her foot touched the first stone of the short path that led to their front door she stopped; for the first time she felt the light reticence of a guest. She was a visitor to the house she had grown up in. For a novel realisation it felt oddly familiar and rather comforting. She looked up at the vicarage which still dominated the street from its receded position and at that angle the house seemed larger still. Its wide, brick front climbed to four floors, each of which was burnt through by glass boxes of light. It was an imposing sight.

Jen rustled around in her bag, not knowing what she had done with her house key. She was irritable; she could have been meeting some friends from university. She would rather have been doing that.

‘I shall try and get away early’ she thought as she gave up on the keys and rang the doorbell. She wasn’t waiting long before dad opened the door.

David James Field was a slight man of fifty three. He wore his thin shoulders and nascent gut with the same ease that was apparent in all his movements. Consequently his uncomfortable manner of speaking and frequent embarrassment at doing so was all the more obvious.

The peaks of his cheeks were always a ruddy crimson but he looked more flushed than usual as he mopped his brow with his trailing sleeve.

“Hello darling” he said with a breathless twinkle, and instantly she felt more at home.

Inside Jen opened the bottle of wine she had brought and poured out three glasses as she sat down next to her dad. The kitchen looked the same, stone floored and smart with hardwood cabinets, but it felt different without the fuss and efficiency of her mother and she felt vaguely uncomfortable facing the un-laid place where her mother always sat. Ethan smiled at her as he fetched the dishes steaming with leeks, potatoes and the carrots which smelled faintly of sugared aniseed.

“Remind me, I’ve got something to tell you” he said.

Dad wasn’t listening; instead, waving the carving knife, he looked intent upon the big pink ham, which sat before of him.

“Well isn’t it nice to have you both here,” he said to himself as he began to cut, “all together and we mustn’t forget your mother.”

Ethan sat down and they fell silent.

“Cheers” said Jen.

“Cheers” Ethan raised his glass, “to mum.”

“To mum.”

She watched as her dad cut the gammon and handed the first plate to her.

“They say all being well, she should be out next week” continued Ethan.

“That’s good news...” her dad agreed, looking in her direction. Jen felt faintly that they were doing this for her benefit “...isn’t it Jen?”

“I hope so” was all she could manage as she helped herself to some of the vegetables. She wasn’t feeling so confident about it all.

“She’s a strong one.”

‘No, Ethan, she’s not’ she thought with some irritation, ‘she’s human, and right now she’s very frail.’

“She’s certainly that” dad again acquiesced with his son.

Jen looked down and was trying to eat her way through this discussion. The irresponsibly upbeat tone in their voices was already irking her.

They continued eating.

Ethan began again, “before you know it, she’ll...”

“How have things improved, did they tell you?”

“Well no, but...”

“Then let’s face it,” she knew they knew “-it’s not the first time they’ve said that...”

Her dad stopped chewing momentarily.

“...is it?” Jen looked down again feeling that she shouldn’t have spoken.

Ethan stopped drinking. He put his glass down more heavily than he intended; the noise exploded through the quiet of the hard surfaced room.

“She’s going to be fine. It might just take a while longer.”

They all paused.

‘Blind’ she pressed the nail of her thumb into her forefinger to stop her saying anything, ‘blind, blind, bloody hope.’ She couldn’t help herself. “Will she?” said Jen again wishing she hadn’t.

“Jen,” her dad’s voice was so smooth and so directing that she fell dumb, “I know that you are worried. We’ll all be glad to have mummy home.”

There was something odd in his voice and she couldn’t ignore it.

“Of course we will, but...”

She looked over at her brother and her words slowed.

“...I’m...” she thought better of it “....I’m just, I’m mean...” she stopped, “I just hate this.”

She looked down then over at her brother, who was wiping the corner of his mouth with his napkin.

He wore a beatific smile which, in her eyes like light through a prism split into its constituent parts; there was both love and sorrow, but mainly shining back was a stream of pity. Despite herself she felt riled and could not help returning him a look of dull resentment. She was the eldest of the two, by three years. He had it so easy; she had to make her own way in the world. Work hard to get to university, then to be saddled with expectations and debt which she had little clue how to extricate herself from.

He had taken the easy option, dropping out of college, working for dad, and they were still so close, he and dad in a way that made her yearn jealously for childhood and the family.

“Come on Jen, ‘worry is just interest paid on trouble before it is due,’” he meant it to comfort, but realised immediately that it had only irritated his sister.
She looked about her, bridling at being patronised she just about managed to bite her tongue, ‘he is just a child, and his life is still so uncluttered’. “What?”
He heard the tone in that word, he saw it rising in her eyes. It was coming. By now Jen was off.
“I only meant that...” He didn’t get time to finish before Jen started again. It felt like she had been waiting all the meal for this.
“You don’t know that, you don’t get to just say that, you’re not sure.”
“But there’s no point in worrying...”
“How can you say that?”
“Well what’ll it do? What can we possibly do?” He repeated, exasperated.
“We just need to be... there for her.”
“Well what if something does happen? She’s in hospital.”

She was the first person in her family to go to university; she always had something to prove, to show him what should be done.

“Why think about that now? Nothing might happen...”
She needed to calm down.
“There’s nothing we can do...”
She looked at her dad “what about... him?” Her voice strained again.
“Come on you two,” David reached out and took both their hands. Jen reluctantly let him take hers, “you shouldn’t be arguing over this, we all care.”
Silence fell around the table again. Jen started eating, followed by her brother.
“Well, I don’t feel like a guest anymore,” she said thinking that many a true word is spoken in jest. Ethan smirked back at her.
They continued eating in silence.
“So how’s life in the family business?” Jen phrased the question to dad implying pointedly the lack of independence in her brother’s life.
“Well” he began.
Ethan looked at his father while he spoke and avoided Jen’s eye, knowing exactly what she meant by going down this conversation. He felt the distance between himself and his sister was growing and although he didn’t realise it, at that moment he was just like she was only a few short years ago.