tried getting it back, but it was one of those things that need to be done without hesitation and without any thought, because once you start thinking about it, it’s already too late. There’s no going back.
I sat there for a little while longer, staring at the phone in my hand, but I knew that I’d missed my chance.
It’s all right, I told myself. You can ring her tomorrow. You’ll feel better about everything then, anyway. You’ll have had time to think. Or if not tomorrow, there’s always the next day, or the next day, or the day after that…
There’s no hurry, is there?
You’ve got to get yourself in the right frame of mind…
It took me just over a week to realize that there wasn’t a right frame of mind, that even looking for a frame of mind was a complete waste of time, and that the only thing to do was what I should have done in the first place—just ring the damn number.
The week went by with a weird sense of timelessness. Days seemed to last forever, with long stretched-out mornings, interminable afternoons, and never-ending nights. Yet at the same time, when a new day dawned and I looked back at yesterday, it seemed to have passed so rapidly that it was hard to believe it had happened at all. Tomorrows, on the other hand, were centuries away.
I didn’t understand it, and I’m not sure I wanted to. I had enough on my mind without trying to work out the vagaries of time. All I really wanted to do was get on with my life without getting too mixed up about Candy.
Not that there was much to get on with.
School…
The Katies…
School…
Dad.
We didn’t see a lot of each other. He left for work quite early each morning, and when I got back from school he was usually in his study, writing reports or answering letters, clicking away on his keyboard, frowning at the walls. Sometimes we’d have dinner together and sometimes Gina was there, but a lot of the time Dad went out in the evenings and Gina was either working late orout somewhere with Mike, and I had rehearsals with The Katies. So, all in all, there wasn’t much family stuff going on.
I saw Gina on Sunday and we had a quick chat about things. She asked me how I was doing, and I told her I was fine.
“School OK?”
“Yeah.”
“Met any more hookers lately?”
“No.”
“How’s the group going?”
“All right. We’ve got a gig in London in a couple of weeks.”
“Yeah?”
“Opening for Bluntslide.”
“Who?”
“Bluntslide. They’re from Manchester. They’ve just signed a big deal with Polydor. There’ll probably be all sorts of people there—music press, agents, record company people…”
Gina nodded, impressed. “Maybe I’ll come along.”
“Yeah, that’d be good. You could bring Mike.”
“OK, it’s a date.”
I looked at her. “Have you told Dad yet?”
“About me and Mike getting married?”
“Yeah.”
“I was going to tell him today. I thought he was staying at home.”
“He’s gone to London with Mum. They’re going to see a show or something.”
“I know.”
Neither of us said anything for a while. I didn’t know if Gina wanted to talk about it, and I didn’t know if I did, either. It was a hard thing to talk about—uncomfortable, messy, complicated.
“Do you think they’re serious?” I said eventually.
Gina didn’t say anything, just shook her head.
I looked at her. “Dad seems to be enjoying himself—”
“Do you know what she said once?” Gina said suddenly.
“Who—Mum?”
“Yeah, when they were getting divorced. I heard them talking one night in Dad’s study. She said, ‘It’s not us, Charles; it’s never been that. It’s just the whole marriage thing. Living together, bringing up children, building a home…it’s not for me. It never was. I’m too selfish for that. I just want you, that’s all. I don’t want to share you with anyone.’”
I stared at Gina, seeing bitterness in her eyes. “She said that?”
“Yeah, like she wanted a divorce
I sat there for a little while longer, staring at the phone in my hand, but I knew that I’d missed my chance.
It’s all right, I told myself. You can ring her tomorrow. You’ll feel better about everything then, anyway. You’ll have had time to think. Or if not tomorrow, there’s always the next day, or the next day, or the day after that…
There’s no hurry, is there?
You’ve got to get yourself in the right frame of mind…
It took me just over a week to realize that there wasn’t a right frame of mind, that even looking for a frame of mind was a complete waste of time, and that the only thing to do was what I should have done in the first place—just ring the damn number.
The week went by with a weird sense of timelessness. Days seemed to last forever, with long stretched-out mornings, interminable afternoons, and never-ending nights. Yet at the same time, when a new day dawned and I looked back at yesterday, it seemed to have passed so rapidly that it was hard to believe it had happened at all. Tomorrows, on the other hand, were centuries away.
I didn’t understand it, and I’m not sure I wanted to. I had enough on my mind without trying to work out the vagaries of time. All I really wanted to do was get on with my life without getting too mixed up about Candy.
Not that there was much to get on with.
School…
The Katies…
School…
Dad.
We didn’t see a lot of each other. He left for work quite early each morning, and when I got back from school he was usually in his study, writing reports or answering letters, clicking away on his keyboard, frowning at the walls. Sometimes we’d have dinner together and sometimes Gina was there, but a lot of the time Dad went out in the evenings and Gina was either working late orout somewhere with Mike, and I had rehearsals with The Katies. So, all in all, there wasn’t much family stuff going on.
I saw Gina on Sunday and we had a quick chat about things. She asked me how I was doing, and I told her I was fine.
“School OK?”
“Yeah.”
“Met any more hookers lately?”
“No.”
“How’s the group going?”
“All right. We’ve got a gig in London in a couple of weeks.”
“Yeah?”
“Opening for Bluntslide.”
“Who?”
“Bluntslide. They’re from Manchester. They’ve just signed a big deal with Polydor. There’ll probably be all sorts of people there—music press, agents, record company people…”
Gina nodded, impressed. “Maybe I’ll come along.”
“Yeah, that’d be good. You could bring Mike.”
“OK, it’s a date.”
I looked at her. “Have you told Dad yet?”
“About me and Mike getting married?”
“Yeah.”
“I was going to tell him today. I thought he was staying at home.”
“He’s gone to London with Mum. They’re going to see a show or something.”
“I know.”
Neither of us said anything for a while. I didn’t know if Gina wanted to talk about it, and I didn’t know if I did, either. It was a hard thing to talk about—uncomfortable, messy, complicated.
“Do you think they’re serious?” I said eventually.
Gina didn’t say anything, just shook her head.
I looked at her. “Dad seems to be enjoying himself—”
“Do you know what she said once?” Gina said suddenly.
“Who—Mum?”
“Yeah, when they were getting divorced. I heard them talking one night in Dad’s study. She said, ‘It’s not us, Charles; it’s never been that. It’s just the whole marriage thing. Living together, bringing up children, building a home…it’s not for me. It never was. I’m too selfish for that. I just want you, that’s all. I don’t want to share you with anyone.’”
I stared at Gina, seeing bitterness in her eyes. “She said that?”
“Yeah, like she wanted a divorce
Similar Books
