Erin Kaye - THE PROMISE OF HAPPINESS

‘World War Three,’ said Louise without humour and she cast a worried glance over her shoulder. Her father chuckled, his whiskery cheeks crumpling into a smile. He rocked a little in his slippers, his hands deep in the pockets of his navy slacks.

‘Let me guess – Abbey?’ he said.

‘Yep.’

‘Grandpa,’ cried Holly, as soon as she saw him. ‘Abbey pulled my—’

‘She wouldn’t let me have the—’ interrupted Abbey.

‘Enough,’ commanded Joanne in a loud, forceful voice and Abbey, now seated on the floor, started to cry.

When it came to tears, their father was a pushover. ‘There, there now, pet,’ he said, shuffling past Louise into the room. He sat on the sofa, pulled the crying child onto his knees and stroked her hair. Abbey’s sobs, instead of abating, intensified.

‘She started it,’ said Joanne, clearly not impressed by this intervention. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at Abbey.

‘Now that’s not very nice, is it, Abbey?’ asked her father and Abbey, glancing furtively at Joanne, sniffed and shook her head.

‘But she wouldn’t give me the remote,’ protested Abbey.

Holly retaliated quickly. ‘She wanted to turn the TV on and Mum said—’

‘I want you both to say sorry to each other,’ said their grandfather, cutting Holly short. After a brief exchange of petulant glares, amazingly, both girls complied. Under their grandfather’s direction, they even embraced and in moments all was forgotten.

Then suddenly Joanne grabbed Abbey by the arm and pulled her off her grandfather’s lap. ‘We’re going now. Come on. Bye, Dad.’ She marched Abbey out of the room brushing past Louise, Maddy and Holly trailing in her wake. ‘You three go on out to the car. I’ll be out in a minute,’ she instructed, giving Abbey a rather forceful shove out the door.

Joanne said a brief goodbye to her parents and Louise followed her out to the car. As soon as the front door closed behind them, Louise said, ‘Are you okay?’

‘Of course I’m okay. Why shouldn’t I be?’

‘It’s just that … well, don’t you think you went a bit over the top in there with the girls?’

‘No,’ said Joanne irritably.

Had Joanne lost all sense of perspective? In Louise’s book, physical punishment was the last resort of out-of-control parents. ‘You tried to hit Abbey, Joanne. And if she hadn’t jumped out of your way, you would have.’

Joanne stopped and turned to face Louise. ‘She deserved it. They all did. They didn’t do what they were asked.’

‘Show me a kid who does?’ said Louise with a laugh, trying to inject some humour into the situation. But her sister remained stony-faced. ‘She’s only seven, Joanne,’ said Louise softly. ‘You have to remember that.’

‘Seven,’ said Joanne, unmoved, ‘is the age of reason. Abbey is old enough to know the difference between right and wrong.’

There was a long pause and, sensing that it would be fruitless to pursue this subject any further, Louise said, ‘Mum and Dad have aged terribly, haven’t they? Mum especially.’

‘Yes, they have,’ sighed Joanne and she rubbed the back of her neck. ‘At least you’ll be able to help out a bit now. It’s been quite a strain on me – what with work and the girls as well. Sian’s only interested in the common good – not helping her own family.’

‘Of course I’ll help out. As for Sian, well, she is working full-time,’ said Louise in her younger sister’s defence.

‘And you think I have more spare time than she does?’ Joanne shook her head. ‘I might work part-time at the pharmacy, Louise, but believe me, running a home and looking after a family as well is more than equivalent to a full-time job. Sian has no idea.’ With that, Joanne got in the car, waved goodbye tersely and drove away.

Later, when Oli had finally fallen asleep, Louise crept up to the bedroom and knelt on the floor and watched him. His chest moved with the gentle rhythm of his breath, his eyelids fluttered in his sleep. Damp curls clung to his sweaty face, and he stirred, throwing a chubby arm up over his head. Louise sat back on her heels and thought about the day’s events. She had done the right thing in coming back, hadn’t she? Oli should know his grandparents and his family. This was the right place for him – and her. And it looked like she had come back at just the right time. For Joanne, it seemed, was barely holding it together.

With Joanne’s help it didn’t take Louise long to organise the small, two-bedroom flat on Tower Road. Joanne had chosen well. On the first floor in a modern two-storey building, it was bright and functional with pale cream carpet and walls, a brand new blonde wood kitchen and a pristine white bathroom. The bay window in the small, narrow lounge overlooked a pleasant residential street and the flat was only a few minutes’ walk from the seafront. Once Joanne had helped her unpack Oli’s toys, and her own familiar belongings, it started to feel like home.

In Oli’s bedroom, after Joanne had gone, Louise wrestled with a Thomas the Tank duvet cover while Oli played happily with his rediscovered Brio train set.

‘It’s nice here, isn’t it? Do you like it?’ said Louise happily, shaking the cover like a sail in the wind. If everything else went as well as today, their new life would work out just fine.

He shrugged without looking up. ‘It’s okay. Look. Choo-choo. The train’s coming into the station.’ He pushed a red engine along a wooden track. ‘When can we go home?’

The smile fell from her lips. She sank down dejectedly on the tangle of bedcovers and sighed. ‘This is home, Oli. For the time being anyway.’

‘But I want my old room. And I want to see Elliott,’ he said, referring to his best friend at nursery. He stuck out his bottom lip.

‘Oh, darling,’ said Louise, momentarily stuck for the reassuring platitudes that usually sprung so readily to her lips.

He got up then and ran to her and buried his face in her lap. She smoothed the fine soft hairs at the nape of his neck, closed her eyes, and prayed to God that he would settle down.

A few days later, she visited her parents and found her mother in the kitchen drying dishes from the evening meal with a red and white checked tea towel. Mindful of the signs of stress she’d detected in Joanne, Louise was trying to do her bit to support her parents.

She heaved a canvas shopping bag onto the kitchen table. ‘I made a big stew last night,’ she said lifting three foil containers out of the bag and setting them on the table. ‘I thought some would be handy for you and Dad. It’ll do for when you don’t have time to cook.’

Of course this wasn’t true. Her mother had all the time in the world – she was just no longer capable of running a house and putting a square meal on the table every night.

‘Well, thanks, love,’ said her mother, graciously. ‘That is very kind of you.’

‘It’s no bother. I get Oli to help me. It passes the time.’

‘How’s he settling in?’

Louise sighed. ‘He’s been having bad dreams. He’s had me up nearly every night this week.’ She yawned. ‘It’s like having a baby again.’

‘It must be terribly unsettling for him.’

Louise nodded. ‘I’ve tried my best to explain what it means to move house, but I’m not sure how much he understands. He keeps asking me when he can see his friends. I feel awful.’

‘Never mind, love,’ said her mother, with an encouraging smile. ‘He’ll soon make new friends.’

‘Perhaps you’re right,’ said Louise hopefully.

Her mother examined the packages on the table and shook her head. ‘I don’t know where you get the time.’