Man at the Helm by Author

Author:Author
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-12-20T16:00:00+00:00

Yours truly,

Elizabeth Vogel x

We delivered the letter by hand and later told our mother that Mr Lomax had rung up on the phone asking how everything was going–house-wise.

Our mother was irritated by this and said, ‘ House-wise?’

And my clever sister, quick as anything, said, ‘For goodness’ sake, Mum, he likes you and wants to see you.’

And our mother shrugged and said, ‘Christ.’ But seemed pleased.

Then a couple of days went by and we hadn’t heard from Mr Lomax and thought that was probably that, so my sister asked our mother if she might ring him.

‘Why on earth would I ring Mr Fucking Lomax?’ she asked.

And my sister said, ‘Because he wants to see you.’

Then, only a moment later and to our amazement, the phone rang and we heard our mother say, ‘Well, then, I suppose Friday would be lovely.’ Albeit rather sternly.

On Friday at six p.m. Mr Lomax parked his van at a funny angle on the grass verge and clambered out in his work overall and chunky light-tan boots. He said he’d parked on the verge like that so as not to block any exits. And I think I realized then that he wasn’t going to be our mother’s cup of tea. She couldn’t care less about exits being blocked and would rather people had other things on their mind.

Our mother asked Mr Lomax what he’d like to drink and he asked for a mug of hot water and our mother, who already had a glass of Bell’s on the go, said, ‘Hot water–really? What kind of a drink is that?’ She made a face and ran the hot tap. Mr Lomax asked if he might have it boiled from the kettle and our mother looked exasperated.

They sat at the kitchen table and Mr Lomax talked a lot about the difference in drinking quality between water from the water tank, water from the mains supply and water from a heated tank or boiler. He talked about the house and its condition. He was concerned about the possibility of pests, with us having chickens and the closeness of the bakery over the wall. He felt pests were ‘almost inevitable’. He was concerned about the positioning of the boiler and the lack of space for ventilation and the looseness of the stair banister.

Our mother offered him another drink. He had more hot water and our mother questioned him rather rudely about the drink choice. Mr Lomax explained that he’d had a recurring fissure and it was necessary to stay hydrated to avoid a relapse. Our mother probably realized then she had nothing to lose and we ended up acting a bit of her play for him. We often acted bits of the play(s) but not usually with an audience, and that made it quite nerve-racking, albeit exciting.

It was a scene where the separating couple fights over custody of a young Labrador.

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