Tell Me Where You Are by Moira Forsyth

Author:Moira Forsyth
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sandstone Press Ltd

9

Kate liked Jack being at home. It took the heat off her, somehow. Andrew stopped needling her and even Frances seemed to chill out a bit. Jack was different from Andrew: he had these mad ideas and you never knew if he was serious or kidding. Mostly kidding, she thought.

‘You never lift a finger, either of you,’ Frances complained on the Thursday before Easter, as both boys began to slip away before they could be asked to clear up after the evening meal.

‘We do,’ they chorused, and Kate laughed. Frances smiled at her and for a moment they were in those secret societies: women, men.

‘What do you want us to do?’ Jack asked, but Andrew hovered near the door, still hoping to escape.

‘I shouldn’t have to tell you.’

‘Go on, give us a clue.’ Grinning, Jack picked up a saucepan and gently nudged his mother away from the sink. ‘The trouble with you, Mum, is you think there’s something morally admirable about work.’

‘Well, there is. It’s necessary, anyway.’

‘Yeah, but it’s not necessary for everybody to do it. Look at unemployment: even when it’s high, the world keeps going. There’s this kind of disapproval of unemployed people, as if they’re not doing their bit.’

‘They’re not.’

He rolled up his sleeves and began to tackle the saucepan. Andrew, seeing his chance, slipped out. Kate wiped over the table half-heartedly, sweeping crumbs onto the floor, listening to Jack.

‘Theirs is a useful contribution. They make all the workers feel virtuous. They’re probably necessary to the wellbeing of society.’

‘The trouble is,’ Frances said, struggling to get a few last plates into the dish-washer, ‘some people always leave the hard work to others.’

As she straightened up and clicked the door shut, she realised Andrew had gone and Kate was sitting at the table with a dishcloth in one hand and a blank, tight expression on her face.

‘Well, that’s up to the others, isn’t it?’ Jack countered as he tipped water down the sink.

Frances didn’t bother answering this. ‘Are you sure you’re all right?’ she asked Kate.

‘I feel a bit sick. I always feel when I’ve had something to eat.’

‘How long has this gone on? If you will stuff yourself with crisps and snacks at odd hours – ’

‘I don’t eat anything like that now. I don’t feel like eating. Everything tastes weird.’ She got up. ‘Can I go?’

‘Maybe we should make a doctor’s appointment for you after Easter. There must be some reason you feel sick.’ Frances stopped, aware of Jack.

Kate went out, and soon they could hear a familiar theme tune from the television.

‘Don’t worry, Mum,’ Jack said. ‘She’s not your problem.’

‘Oh, I think she is now.’

‘See what I mean? Some people just look for work.’

‘Unlike your brother.’

In the living-room, Kate lay on the sofa watching a tense scene between a girl who was expecting her mother’s lover’s child, and the mother, who had only just found out. The girl’s father came in and they all began shouting at each other. Kate switched channels. It wasn’t fair, all her usual soaps were spoiled.

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