apron and produce the perfect burger (chargrilled but not burnt, tender but well done) for everyone they knew. He was glad she wanted to take over, but his gladness was not the whole story. He felt as though something had been stolen that he couldn’t describe. The longer they were married, the stronger this sense of unknowable loss.
Stanley sat on the wooden bench at the bottom of the garden and looked up at the house. He could see the shape of his mother upstairs in the bathroom, fiddling with her hair in front of the mirror. She wasn’t like other mothers. She did all the driving when they went on holiday. She bought his fatherflowers and chocolates. “Norms thrive because they’re invisible,” she once said, holding a bunch of roses. “It’s only when I overturn them that you’re able to spot them. Do you get what I’m saying? Why are you looking so fed up?”
The kitchen door opened and closed, revealing Harvey, black and glossy, tumbling towards him, landing on his lap, making him laugh. Daft dog, running up and down the bench, licking his face, jumping off again, pulling a paper lantern from a low branch and ripping it to shreds.
Inside the house, Ralph was on the phone to his father.
“Happy birthday, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“How old are you now?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Thirty-seven, deary me.”
“Are you still coming tonight?”
“Of course. Your mother has prickly heat, but we’re still coming. She thinks her sweat glands might be blocked.”
“Are you sure it’s prickly heat? It’s not that hot out.”
“I never argue with your mother’s diagnoses. She’s here now, she’s grabbing the—”
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mum.”
“Happy birthday, dear. Are you having a good day?”
“Lovely, thanks.”
“What have you been doing?”
“I popped into work this morning, but other than that, just pottering really.” He thought of Sadie, naked on the bedroom floor, crawling away from him. “What time are you coming over?”
“What time are we allowed to come?”
“You don’t have to ask that.”
“Oh I do.”
She was referring to the secret contract. A few years ago, Frank and Brenda had decided to move closer to Ralph and their grandsons. Before they sold their bungalow, Sadie posted an agreement for them to sign and return as discreetly as possible. She was advised to do this by an agony aunt called Suzie who worked in the local farm shop. Suzie kept a cardboard box in the corner of the shop for customers’ letters, which she promised to respond to within a week if the writer supplied their initials. She left her replies—short, blunt, alphabetized—in a basket beside the organic dog biscuits. Suzie made the biscuits too. She was multitalented, buxom, often warm, often sharp, depending on the day. Sadie found her trashy and intimidating and she longed for her approval.
FAMILY AGREEMENT, WRITTEN WITH LOVE AND GOOD INTENTIONS
We, Frank and Brenda Swoon, realize that this agreement is for the benefit of all parties.
We promise not to turn up unannounced at the home of Ralph and Sadie when we move to the same town, despite the fact that we are prone to bouts of spontaneous excitement and affection. We will always telephone first.
We acknowledge that everyone needs privacy and space.
By moving closer to Ralph and Sadie, we are not expecting them to meet our needs and care for us in old age.
We realize that Sadie is protecting us with this agreement, not herself. She is minimizing the chanceof conflict, thereby maintaining good relations all round.
We can confirm, before selling our property, that we definitely plan to buy another property. We have no intention of living with our son, daughter-in-law and grandsons, because we realize that this would be unhealthy.
This agreement is a private matter between Sadie Swoon, Frank Swoon and Brenda Swoon.
“Come over any time you like,” said Ralph. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”
“What time are other people
Stanley sat on the wooden bench at the bottom of the garden and looked up at the house. He could see the shape of his mother upstairs in the bathroom, fiddling with her hair in front of the mirror. She wasn’t like other mothers. She did all the driving when they went on holiday. She bought his fatherflowers and chocolates. “Norms thrive because they’re invisible,” she once said, holding a bunch of roses. “It’s only when I overturn them that you’re able to spot them. Do you get what I’m saying? Why are you looking so fed up?”
The kitchen door opened and closed, revealing Harvey, black and glossy, tumbling towards him, landing on his lap, making him laugh. Daft dog, running up and down the bench, licking his face, jumping off again, pulling a paper lantern from a low branch and ripping it to shreds.
Inside the house, Ralph was on the phone to his father.
“Happy birthday, son.”
“Thanks, Dad.”
“How old are you now?”
“Thirty-seven.”
“Thirty-seven, deary me.”
“Are you still coming tonight?”
“Of course. Your mother has prickly heat, but we’re still coming. She thinks her sweat glands might be blocked.”
“Are you sure it’s prickly heat? It’s not that hot out.”
“I never argue with your mother’s diagnoses. She’s here now, she’s grabbing the—”
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mum.”
“Happy birthday, dear. Are you having a good day?”
“Lovely, thanks.”
“What have you been doing?”
“I popped into work this morning, but other than that, just pottering really.” He thought of Sadie, naked on the bedroom floor, crawling away from him. “What time are you coming over?”
“What time are we allowed to come?”
“You don’t have to ask that.”
“Oh I do.”
She was referring to the secret contract. A few years ago, Frank and Brenda had decided to move closer to Ralph and their grandsons. Before they sold their bungalow, Sadie posted an agreement for them to sign and return as discreetly as possible. She was advised to do this by an agony aunt called Suzie who worked in the local farm shop. Suzie kept a cardboard box in the corner of the shop for customers’ letters, which she promised to respond to within a week if the writer supplied their initials. She left her replies—short, blunt, alphabetized—in a basket beside the organic dog biscuits. Suzie made the biscuits too. She was multitalented, buxom, often warm, often sharp, depending on the day. Sadie found her trashy and intimidating and she longed for her approval.
FAMILY AGREEMENT, WRITTEN WITH LOVE AND GOOD INTENTIONS
We, Frank and Brenda Swoon, realize that this agreement is for the benefit of all parties.
We promise not to turn up unannounced at the home of Ralph and Sadie when we move to the same town, despite the fact that we are prone to bouts of spontaneous excitement and affection. We will always telephone first.
We acknowledge that everyone needs privacy and space.
By moving closer to Ralph and Sadie, we are not expecting them to meet our needs and care for us in old age.
We realize that Sadie is protecting us with this agreement, not herself. She is minimizing the chanceof conflict, thereby maintaining good relations all round.
We can confirm, before selling our property, that we definitely plan to buy another property. We have no intention of living with our son, daughter-in-law and grandsons, because we realize that this would be unhealthy.
This agreement is a private matter between Sadie Swoon, Frank Swoon and Brenda Swoon.
“Come over any time you like,” said Ralph. “You’re always welcome, you know that.”
“What time are other people
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