From the living room, she heard the familiar sound of her mother chipping away at George: Don’t do this … Make sure you do that … nip, chip, nag, sneer … The well-worn soundtrack of Judith’s home life. She took a deep breath, steeling herself to go back into the other room.
‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ George said, passing Judith as she came back in. Her mother, slumped now in an armchair, had her eyes closed, her head back.
‘So what happens now?’ Judith asked her quietly.
‘Going back next week, see the specialist,’ Patricia mumbled, monotone.
Judith nodded. Biding her time. ‘And they said it was a heart attack, did they?’
‘George, bring me in some Alka-Seltzer, will you, love?’ Patricia called out to the kitchen. Sometimes her mother could sound so sweet and normal. ‘And a couple of Veganin. I’ve got a migraine coming on.’ The dexterity with which she could avoid an unwelcome question was remarkable.
‘You’ll need to get on to Beryl at work for me. Tell them what’s happened …’
‘And what has happened, Mother?’ Judith asked, her voice level.
Patricia avoided the question. Again. ‘Course, you could offer to do a few shifts instead of me. Ring Beryl now, sweetheart, and tell her. I’ll be off for a good couple of weeks, the doctor reckons.’
George came in with the Alka-Seltzer and painkillers and handed them to Patricia, who took them without thanks. She swallowed and sighed. Then stared at her daughter, challenging. ‘Well, what are you waiting for? Sooner Beryl knows, the sooner she can organize cover for me.’
Judith steadied her shaking hands and launched straight in. ‘Mum, you do know I’m meant to be on my way to the airport right now, don’t you? To catch a plane. With my friends. For the holiday we’ve been planning for the last two years.’
Patricia looked at her. Cold. Unsympathetic. ‘And what d’you expect me to do about it, Missy?’ she asked. ‘I can’t help it if I had a bloody heart attack in the middle of the town centre! Oh excuse me for being ill, excuse me for being at death’s door!’
‘Yeah, but you weren’t ill, were you? And you didn’t have a heart attack. Nor have you had three previous heart attacks, like you told the doctor you had!’
‘What’s she talking about, Pat?’ George asked.
‘I have absolutely no idea,’ Patricia answered. ‘Now will you please phone Beryl before it’s too late. I don’t want to mess the woman around.’
Judith looked at the wall clock above her mother’s head.
And made the decision in a demi second.
She took two strides towards the fireplace, picked up her purse and her passport from the mantelpiece, and heaved the rucksack on to her back.
‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’ Her mother was incredulous.
‘I’m going on holiday.’
Patricia, suddenly match-fit again, was on her feet, attempting to pull the rucksack back on to the floor.
‘You are not leaving this house, young lady!’ she shouted, but Judith’s defiance and determination had made her strong. Patricia didn’t stand a chance.
‘Oh, but I am,’ Judith replied, striding towards the door. ‘You’ve ruined enough things in my life, Mum.’ And she turned to make her way through the small hallway, difficult with the cumbersome luggage on her back.
‘Well don’t just stand there, George, for Christ’s sake!’ Patricia screeched, and George made his way towards Judith.
‘Don’t, Dad, there’s no point in—’
But George wasn’t attempting to stop her leaving. He was opening the door to let her go.
‘Oh I see, like that, is it?’ Patricia laughed, the sneering laugh Judith knew so well. ‘As usual – ganging up on me! You should both be ashamed!’ she cried, and in the same breath turned on the tears.
Judith looked at George, fighting back the temptation to cry herself. ‘Bye Dad, I’ll see you in August, OK?’
George threw his arms around her, speechless, holding her like his life depended on it, looked her directly in the eye and finally let her go.
‘You walk through that door, Judith Harris,’ Patricia hissed, ‘it’ll be for the last time, you mark my words.’
‘Good luck at the doctor’s, Mum! Get well soon!’ Judith shouted, bordering on hysteria as she stepped outside. And as she took a few steps away from the house she heard the sound of the Alka-Seltzer glass being hurled at the living-room wall.
‘DON’T YOU EVER COME BACK, D’YOU HEAR?’ Patricia screamed.
Judith headed off down the street, feeling like she’d just been punched. She was crushed, defeated and very, very alone.
Fifteen minutes later she was standing at the bus stop, staring in shock at the timetable, tears streaming down her cheeks. Suddenly a voice called out, ‘How’s your mum?’
It was Gareth on his motorbike, the car behind him beeping impatiently at the hold-up. For some reason she felt irritated seeing him there. He pulled into the bus stop.
‘I’ve just missed it,’ she said, her voice shaking. ‘The bus, I mean. Could’ve got to Cardiff in time and a train to Bristol centre and then, I dunno, a taxi maybe, but now I’ve missed the whole bloody …’ and she started crying afresh.
‘Oh. Right.’ He paused. ‘But I thought …’
‘Look, what d’you want, Gareth?’ she snapped, standing there bereft, the rucksack and her wet clothes weighing her down in solidarity with her heavy heart.
He unbuckled the spare bike helmet usually worn by Lana. ‘Jump on the back an’ I’ll take you,’ he said, revving the engine, ready to go.
She didn’t know what to say. She and Gareth barely ever spoke on the rare occasions they were in each other’s company. And now he was offering to do her a massive favour. She remained silent. Unsure.
‘Well, hurry up then,’ he said. ‘We ain’t exactly got all day!’
Within half an hour, they were on the M4 heading east towards Bristol airport.
5
Lana
As only two of them were now being taken to the airport, it meant there was a spare place in the car. And Liz Kelly didn’t need inviting twice to fill it. She told Lana she’d been desperate from the get-go to accompany her daughter to the airport, but Huw’s Ford Sierra wasn’t the roomiest of cars, so she hadn’t been allowed to come. ‘I even toyed with the idea of getting the train there, then travelling back to Wales with Huw, but my entire family told me I was being dramatic!’ she laughed. ‘So I won’t lie, sad as it is that Judith isn’t coming, at least I get to say goodbye to my daughter properly. At the actual departure gate. Like in all the films.’
Catrin rolled her eyes.
The journey to Bristol airport from Coed Celyn was a good two hours, but seemed longer due to the fact that Mr and Mrs Kelly spoke for the entire duration. Lana sat in the back with Catrin, exchanging weak smiles at some of the ludicrous comments coming from the front of the car, but for the most part the two girls were glad to sit and listen, or just switch off. They were still reeling from the news that their best friend wouldn’t be joining them on their much-anticipated trip.