We had arranged to stay in the Midland, the big art-deco hotel on the front that had been “restored to its former glory”. That formed the basis of how they were trying to get tourists to return to the town at that point and it was a time when glorious restoration seemed to be the basis for much of what loomed large over the country. My mother had always wanted to stay there, had always associated it with people from a higher social strata, and it had been a haunt of the rich during its heyday. Now she was a pensioner with more money than time her lifelong caution had begun to crumble. It was relatively expensive and she fretted over that but then, aye, why not? This was also where we were going to regroup for cocktails, sitting in the long terrace at the back of the building watching the sun go down over the bay. We had dwindled down to five or six people, most having gone back to Lancaster and it looked as though it might end up being only Mariam and I.
We took a slightly longer than I wanted to get there, meandering along the front again with my mum as she reminisced then we wandered around a little downstairs admiring the flow and contour of the smooth white walls, the spiralling stairs, the slightly garish carpets and furnishings, the circular cocktail bar with its big central chandelier. Mariam was already sitting alone there, sipping at something in a martini glass and tapping at her phone. She waved her cocktail stick at me in greeting as we went past. See you shortly, she said.
Shall we take the lift? I asked. I was impatient to get upstairs, get her settled in and come back down suddenly anxious that someone else would turn up. Just the two of us made it feel date-like and I was surprisingly exited as we went up to the third floor. I had a room here too and I tried to contain fantasies that were starting to rise up in me about where the evening might lead.
Got everything you need? I asked as we went into my mum’s room.
What time is it? she asked. It was 7:30. Well I wouldn’t mind a bite to eat she said a bit huffily.
Did you bring anything?
I have got a ham bun in my bag that we didn’t eat at lunchtime.
Do you want to eat here? In the hotel? There's always room service.
Are you not eating anything?
I am alright. There’s a menu there. Do you know how to ring down?
You are going for a drink are you?
That's the plan.
Don't drink too much. Your dad never drank. You don't need to you know.
Mum. I am forty seven.
Well you can do daft things at any age look at your uncle Tommy.
I’ll be careful. Are you alright here? I should probably go down there, you know?
Well. It's a bit early
There's a TV there. Do you want me to show you how to turn it on?
Well I can watch the telly in Barrow.
What do you want to do? I mean, any suggestions?
Well it’s not about doing anything. I thought it was about spending a bit of time together. You are only forty minutes up the road and I don’t see that much of you. It's not like you are busy with family things like Jackie.
I am busy. Maybe not with family things, but I am busy.
I still don’t really know why Ayako left. You never tell me anything.
Why do you need to know? Alright. Kids. I think. I don’t know exactly. We had a conversation about kids. I said I didn’t want them. I'd always been clear on that.
Was it me? I worry that it was something I did, that put you off.
No, I said. I’ve never felt ready.
But she wanted them, you said. You need to compromise. Even your dad had to compromise sometimes on things. Bloody difficult he was at times.
Why, though, why make that compromise? If you are already happy?
Are you happy though, Carl?
I smiled in what I thought was a reassuring way, despite my impatience. I am as happy as I need to be. You don't need to worry about me.
I don't mean happy I mean. She struggled for the word. Fulfilled? That’s what I don’t know. I don’t know what you’re so afraid of.
I am not afraid. I am not afraid of children.
You've never really had the confidence.
Confidence? It's not a question of confidence. Anyway I am a confident enough to have travelled around the world, you know.
Aye but I don’t mean that. Being a father.
Plenty of people with families are miserable. Lots of people who would have been better off not having kids. Look, to be honest I said, I always thought my dad seemed a bit... ambivalent about us.
How do you mean? He wasn’t, he loved you.
I let it go. There were things I could have said, but what was the point, why upset a woman of her age with all that doubt and uncertainty.
I know, I know I said. I just feel he was disappointed in me.
Well I think he would have liked you to work a bit harder at University.
I don’t think he had any right to be disappointed, given what he could offer us. I said.
He did a lot of overtime in the yard to get you through another year of sixth form and then University, she said.
I know. I took a deep breath. Let's talk about it some other time, I said. Look I am going to go downstairs for an hour or so. We have arranged it. Then we’ll get something to eat.
Nine o'clock? Bit late.
Alright you can come downstairs with us. Do you want to? Have something to eat? It might be a bit noisy.
Well, better than being stuck up here on my own.
OK.
Let me get changed.
Alright, I said. Come down when you are ready.
I quickly cleaned my teeth, washed at the sink in my own room, changed my t-shirt went back to the lift and down to the bar only to discover that the chair next to her was already occupied and that Chris, of all people, had beaten me to it.
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