Page 32 of Birds of a Feather

‘Is that what this is all about?’ she asked, sounding exasperated. ‘Proving that you’re capable of spontaneity?’

‘No,’ I scoffed. ‘I have no interest in proving anything to anyone. But everyone is always telling me to seize the day. And now, here I am “seizing the day”, and you’re freaking out.’

‘I’m not “freaking out”, Beth,’ she replied defensively. ‘It’s just taken me by surprise, that’s all. I’ve seen you spend more time planning what movie you’ll see at the cinemas.

‘Where will you stay?’ she asked, changing the subject in what I recognised as a deliberate gesture of amnesty.

‘We’ve booked a hotel in Kensington, just near the gardens,’ I said cheerily – my own olive branch.

‘Oh, it’s lovely there. Such a pretty area. Your Dad and I stayed there when we spent a night partying with the lead singer of … Ohhhh!’ she exclaimed suddenly. I could picture the way her shoulders had risen with a little shimmy when she had an idea. ‘I’ve got an idea! Maybe I could come too? Three generations travelling together.’

I was grateful to be on the phone, so she couldn’t see my face contort into a look of horror.

‘Um … I … ah.’ I scrambled for reasons to dissuade her. I grasped at the most obvious one. ‘Wouldn’t Jarrah feel left out?’

‘Maybe she could come too? She’s not working at the moment so doesn’t have anything tying her here,’ Mum posed enthusiastically. ‘It could be a girls’ trip.’

A wave of anger rose from my stomach. I was furious that Mum just assumed she could invite herself along, and then twisted it to revolve around Jarrah. The fact she had used Jarrah’s self-imposed unemployment as a reason for her to come only made it worse.

‘Except that you’ve forgotten the bit where Jarrah has no money because she chooses to focus on finding employment that “nourishes her soul”, rather than saving money for a rainy day, or a trip to London,’ I said curtly.

‘Well … maybe she …’ She paused, searching for a way to solve Jarrah’s problem of having no money for a trip that never involved her in the first place.

‘We’re flying business class,’ I interjected before she could continue.

It was true; we were flying business class. I had booked the tickets to make the flight more comfortable for Gran. I’d gawked at the price; two return tickets had cost nearly as much as my new car. But I had purchased them on a credit card with a loyalty points scheme linked to the airline, which meant I would get two free domestic flights from the frequent flyer points I would accrue.

‘Business class,’ Mum repeated, her surprise palpable. ‘Wow. You two do have it all sorted out. Don’t worry about us, then.’ Martyrdom hung on her every word. ‘Perhaps you’ll take another trip together sometime, and you won’t mind us tagging along. If we won’t cramp your style, of course.’

There was a sting in her words.

‘Mum, it’s not …’

I didn’t know how to explain we weren’t deliberately excluding anyone from the trip, without revealing our motivation for taking it.

‘It’s fine,’ she snapped.

I picked at a few pills that had assembled on my jumper.

‘I just wish sometimes …’ she said eventually, but her voice trailed off.

‘What?’ I prompted.

‘It would have been nice to go on a trip with you, that’s all. But maybe we can do it another time.’

I was surprised; she hadn’t suggested we travel together since she’d proposed a girls’ yoga retreat with Jarrah and me. It had been impossible to coordinate our calendars so I told them to go without me. I’d also passed on the rebirthing seminar she went on to celebrate her sixtieth birthday; I couldn’t think of anything worse than re-enacting a descent of the birth canal with a room full of strangers. And I’d deliberately planned a hiking trip to avoid a two-day art workshop that she and Jarrah had attended where they’d made models of their vaginas and written letters to their ‘inner goddesses’.

‘What time do you leave on Tuesday?’ she asked, her voice soft again.

‘We fly out at midday, so we will need to be at the airport at about 10am. I’ll drive to Gran’s and leave my car in her garage.’

I had been thinking about the schedule for Tuesday since we’d booked the tickets. I found the morning of any trip stressful, so I planned for every eventuality. I made a habit of leaving early for the airport to allow for traffic and always allowed plenty of time for check-in.

‘I can drop you off, then.’

‘Well … actually,’ I began self-consciously. ‘The airline will be sending a car to pick us up. It’s one of the perks of flying business class, apparently.’

‘Ohhhh. La-di-da,’ she mocked, but not unkindly. ‘Goodness me. Did one of you win lotto, or something?’

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