Family Stand Forward

Chapter 1

It could be considered a triumph for Stella Matthew’s relentless optimism that she, part-time futurologist, market researcher and trend-watcher, didn’t see any of it coming.
Stella could hear a muffled knocking, her face and body suffocating in a blanket of cloying heat as she struggled to rouse herself. “Come on, Stella, wake up!” Ordered her mother, edging the door open with a floral breakfast tray loaded with fresh fruit, porridge, low-fat yoghurt and a cup of tea. “What are you doing there, Theo? Why aren’t you in your own bed? At your age! No wonder your mother’s so tired!”

Stella pushed Ronaldhino, Theo’s giant stuffed chimpanzee, off her face where his dense, nylon fur had been causing problems and gently eased her ten year old son’s gangling limbs from her body; his bony knees leaving round red imprints in her soft thighs. She rubbed her face and sat up stiffly to take the tray. ‘Thanks, Mum, this looks great, what time is it?’ ‘9.00a.m., you’re booked into the hairdresser’s for 11.00 and everybody else will be arriving at the hotel for 12.30. Come on Theo, let’s go and eat, George and Grandpa are already downstairs’.

Stella tucked into her breakfast then made her way downstairs to join the family. ‘Jesus, you look exhausted! Come and sit down,’ said her father. ‘I know it’s a long old drive from Harrogate to Kent but couldn’t you have left home a bit earlier? The boys must be shattered too, or did they sleep in the car?’ ‘I think you’re forgetting that I’m 47 not 17, Dad, and those bifocals you’re wearing don’t help when you’re magnifying the wrong way. The boys slept for a couple of hours. We were really hoping Roger would come but he decided he just wasn’t up to it at the last minute, so that’s why we left a bit late. Anyway, we’re here now and I’m sure the salon will perform miracles for me this morning, so you don’t need to feel embarrassed about me in front of your friends.’

‘Dad doesn’t mean that at all, Stella, he’s just worried about you. We know things aren’t always easy and we’re too far away to give you any proper help, it’s frustrating, we see the other two so much more’.

‘All right, all right! Let the beautification begin. I’ll just go and get my dress ready.’
‘Er, what are you wearing, Stella?’ asked her mother. ‘Oh, I got quite a nice dress in the sales a couple of weeks ago, it’s a lovely dusky pink colour and an absolute bargain’ replied Stella. ‘Right, it’s just that I saw a beautiful emerald green silk dress in Monsoon and I bought it for myself but it doesn’t really suit me, I don’t fill the bust enough – I thought you might like to try it on, just to see? And I’ve also discovered some really good underwear; Spanx, I’ve treated you and Kate to some, see what you think they’re a bit tricky to get into but once you’re in it’s a half stone plus bonus, let me tell you’ Stella marvelled inwardly at the carefully orchestrated campaign and succumbed in a heartbeat. After all, why not? Why on earth not? She asked herself.

Three hours later and the Golden Wedding Anniversary party was in full swing at The Cedar Lodge, a plush hotel with a marvellous golf course. Pat and Tommy, Stella’s parents, regaled the assembled guests with warm and witty tributes to each other and their three wonderful children and Stella was talking earnestly to her sister, Kate, about Roger. ‘Bloody hell, what an absolute nightmare, have a top-up of fizz, you sound like you could do with a skinful. What does the doctor say?’ asked Kate. ‘Well, Rog didn’t want me to go with him to the last appointment and all he’d say afterwards was that he started crying in Sainsbury’s car park and couldn’t stop. He agreed to some therapy but kept cancelling it at the last minute and didn’t go at all in the end. They bought him a winter lamp at work though, and that just drove him into massive paroxysms of rage. He just says it’s nobody’s business but his, but it’s ours too. I feel so sorry and angry for him; this depression just sweeps him up and tears us all apart.’ Stella sipped her champagne steadily.

‘Still, you’re looking pretty good though, better than I expected’ said Kate. Stella raised her eyebrows and her glass in her mother’s direction. ‘I see’ smiled Kate ‘I haven’t put the Spanx on yet, the damaged remains of five children are a lot to ask of any lycra knickers and Martin would die laughing if he saw me in them. Oh, look, here comes Tom, he’s looking a bit rough’.

Stella enveloped her 20 year old nephew and godson in her emerald green arms. ‘Sit down Tom, are you tired?’ Tom’s navy blue eyes were underlined with purple stains, his pallor striking in the harsh daylight. ‘Oh, I was working in the hotel until 3am, it was terrible. There were two groups in, “Confident Business Ladies” and The Local Hunt. They all got completely trollied and the women started chasing me like the hare, scrawling their phone numbers all over me and forcing their room keys onto me. In the end I fled in tears, it was terrifying. I told my boss it was sexual harassment and that I wouldn’t put up with it so she gave me a room key and I locked myself in until the family minibus picked me up at 8.00am so yes, I’m absolutely knackered and I don’t feel like any interrogation from friendly cougars. I’m staying right here.’ Tom replied, resting his handsome delicate face in his hands and falling asleep in an instant.

The afternoon passed in a mellow haze for Stella, brimming with now ripe figures from her childhood parading before her in an assortment of Pringle jumpers, bright Marks & Spencer Per Una tops with strategic ruffles, evoking a jumble of memories. ‘Aunties’ filled her in on their grown-up children’s business and family achievements, all incredibly successful and happy, of course, whilst adopting a tactful, kindly yet sympathetic tone when asking her about her ‘Life Up North With Roger’.

“Your Mum says you’ve finally sold the house though” said ‘Aunty’ Maureen, ‘that must be a terrific relief. Did you lose a lot of money in the end? I did ask David if he could visit you and help you with some sales advice but he was so busy in London that he didn’t have time. He sends you his love though’. Stella had a flashback of the teenage David, stumpy-limbed, weeping acne punctuating his pasty face, following her round for a couple of years in their adolescence, trying to give her his love on a daily basis. Her friends had laughed at him but Stella always tried to be kind, feeling guilty and sorry for him in equal measure.

“Oh, don’t worry, we were just glad that we finally got an offer after two years of waiting, it happened really quickly in the end, we’re due to complete next Friday so I’ve got everything crossed that the references for the flat in Harrogate town centre will go through in time, otherwise it’s a B & B for us! If I do have any questions though I’ll be sure to give David a ring”. “Oh, he’s really more concerned with the strategic direction of the business now but I’m sure he’d point you in the direction of one of his assistants to help you out.” “Thanks Auntie Maureen, I’ll bear that in mind” Stella promised through gritted teeth.

“How’s it going? You’ve lost a bit of weight, haven’t you?” Stella’s brother Michael asked. “No, it’s the transformational magic of Spanx and not you too, Mikey, I’m sick of people asking about Roger, they all get extremely grisly hyperbolic updates from Mum anyway so I don’t know why they keep asking. Mind you, I’m glad I haven’t told her the full extent of it, the lurid questioning from the concerned would be unbearable. I do wish I’d been more of a cow to David Austin, Strategic PropertyMeister, now though”. “Ooh, all I did was ask you if you’d lost weight, not could you bite my head off! Just tell them a few white lies, that’s what I do. Rachel’s been poking me in the back all afternoon, you wouldn’t believe how successful the twins are these days and as for Livvy’s soaring academic brilliance! It’s great fun when you get going!” Stella smiled back at her brother’s snaggle-toothed grin, Pat hadn’t been quite so particular about her children’s appearance forty years ago, and asked how the twenty year old twins were really getting on. “Oh, not so good, in real life” sighed Mikey “Matt must be the only two stone overweight smoker on the Sports Science degree course and Tom’s like the living dead, asleep half the day and up all night playing internet poker. He’s just about managing to keep on the law course, we’ve told him that he can’t afford to get chucked out of uni again but it’s amazing, they just think everything will be fine. Livvy is doing really well though, predicted 10 A * in her GCSE’s and she’s worked so hard through Rachel’s cancer and all of that trauma, she deserves some success – I’m hoping for one out of three, anyway. How are the boys?”

“George is hell in a hoodie, wracked with teenage angst and really quiet and withdrawn now, madly in love with his girlfriend to the extent that I think he’s in danger of blowing his exams or, what worries me more, doing something stupid if she ditches him, I can’t help worrying about genetic traits’, ‘How long’s he been seeing her?’ ‘Coming up for two weeks now, quite a long time for a fifteen year old’ Stella reported earnestly. ‘Theo’s still on report at school but I think he’s calming down a bit. His science teacher told George last week how impressed he was by Theo’s mature handling of the fact that he was an IVF baby because of Roger’s low sperm count and my heavy drinking – he was stunned apparently when George told him Theo was making it up. I’ve got Year 7 parent’s evening next week, can’t wait’.

The party moved back to Pat and Tommy’s farmhouse; Tommy had renovated it himself at weekends and in the evenings after work in the 1960’s, with the help of Pat’s father. It had taken five years but the subsequent small mortgage had enabled the family to live pretty well and to enjoy the surrounding open countryside of the island.

Black Sheep Island was a flat dollop of land, spitting out of the mouth of the Thames Estuary off the North Kent coast. Home to rare birds, flocks of black sheep, docks, marshes, two prisons, one shingled naturist beach, countless caravan parks and a few seedy cabaret clubs; it was a strange place to grow up. Stella had hated it, longing to ‘get off this godforsaken hole and live somewhere civilized and sophisticated’ from a very early age. Now she was fond of it, appreciating the wild beauty of the marshes, the cliffs and the beaches as well as the cheerful, battered and faded promenade that lured the London Cabbies down for summer holidays in their droves. Stella would even have liked visit more often.

She missed her family; her parents, brother, sister, their families. The distance, Roger’s issues, her work, the cost, the time, the boys’ many weekend sporting commitments meant that she had drifted away from her roots over the last few years. She was quite happy in Harrogate, they had a fairly good quality of life with great friends who had created a supportive network for each other when times were tough, kids were ill, lifts were needed. But still, contrary to her teenage protests, Harrogate wasn’t really home, not yet.

Chapter 2

Stella woke up early the next morning, went to the kitchen made a cup of tea and took it out into the garden. Tommy loved his garden and spent hours there planting, growing, digging and burning. It was a beautiful spring morning, hazy mist swirling around and the familiar salty smell of the sea slapped her awake to appreciate the first of the year’s snowdrops, daffodils and tulips.
Walking back into the house Stella found her mother already patrolling and organising the kitchen with industrial quantities of bacon, eggs, mushrooms, black pudding, baked beans, tomatoes, hash browns and bread assembled in well-ordered piles next to the oven. ‘Wow, that looks great Mum, it was lovely yesterday, did you enjoy it?’ ‘Dad and I loved it, we were so proud of you all too, with all of your help and you looked gorgeous, Stella, you’re still really lovely when you put in a bit of effort, do your hair and have the time, darling’. Pat stroked Stella’s cheek and gave her a sudden tight hug before bursting into tears ‘Mum, what is it? What’s the matter?” asked Stella ‘Oh, I just miss you all so much, at least I see Mike and Kate more regularly but yesterday just made me realize how little I see of you and the boys, I wish you didn’t live so far away and it wasn’t such a bugger of a journey’ sniffed Pat ‘anyway, let’s get this show on the road, fire up the range!’.

After a massive, rowdy breakfast with Pat, Tommy, Kate and Martin and their five children, Rachel and Mike their three children and Stella and the boys, Stella decided to head back home, despite noisy protests from the rest of the family. ‘It’s just it will take five hours and there’s snow predicted for the North so I don’t want to be driving in the dark in bad weather’ she explained. ‘Go on, stay for lunch, at least’ begged her mother. George and Theo also wanted to stay to be with their cousins but Stella decided to head off early, worrying about the journey.

The whole family waved them goodbye and Stella intended to put her foot down. If they didn’t stop, which she hated doing, although the boys would most certainly be baying for Kentucky Fried Chicken, their favourite food, they could be home before dark, if the traffic wasn’t too bad. Pat had provided her with neat parcels of sandwiches made by Tommy and his bread making machine, their own ham with some salad thrown in for good health along with bottles of tap water, ‘so there’s no point your mother wasting her precious money on KFC boys’ advised Tommy to resentful faces. ‘Give us a ring when you get there’ said Pat and Stella drove off, bibbing her horn until they lost sight of the waving arms.

‘Nearly there kids!’ ‘Mum, I’m absolutely desperate for a wee, please stop!’ said George. ‘We’ve only got 30 miles to go and there’s nowhere to stop on the M1, can’t you wait, you’re 15!’ ‘I’ve been telling you for the last 50 miles and I’m seriously going to piss myself unless you stop!’ ‘All right, I’ll take the next exit but we’re not buying any food, you know that. Have you eaten your sandwiches?’ ‘They’re disgusting and I’m starving’ whined Theo. Half an hour later they left the service station loaded down with KFC popcorn chicken, chips and energy drinks ‘I’m not very happy with you, you know I hate you eating that muck, now come on, get in the car we can still make it by 3 o’clock if we hurry’.

Stella drew up to the yellow stone Victorian town house, noting with satisfaction that a) it was still light and b) it had only just started snowing and c) the Sainsbury’s delivery van was parked outside. At least she wouldn’t have to go out and get supplies, Roger must have perked up over the weekend and got organised for them, although the boys would probably claim to be ‘stuffed’ after that motorway junk food. Still, supper in front of the fire and the telly with a glass of wine would be the perfect end to her weekend.

Pushing open the front door Stella looked around for Roger but all she found were full shopping bags in the kitchen, including frozen ice cream that was melting. Tutting to herself she instructed Theo to put the frozen food away and went to find Roger and fill him in about the weekend. She mentally rehearsed amusing anecdotes about the party with that hint of witch that usually cheered him up so much. Climbing the stairs though she realised he must have got one of his sudden migraines and gone for a lie down. Tensing herself for the inevitable trauma and preparing to walk on the well-trodden eggshells she pushed their bedroom door open.

Fire and ice would forever be the way that Stella remembered the scene that met her. There was Roger, all red-faced with his eyes bloodshot and bulging, his ginger moustache bristling and his big pink buttocks bouncing, taking Agnes, the poor homesick Polish girl who worked in Sainsbury’s and who Stella always made the effort to chat to, from behind. Agnes, by contrast, displayed the glacial grandeur of a 20 year old snow queen, completely naked and undamaged by sunbathing with silver foil and olive oil in the 1970’s, her translucent milky skin setting off the flashing chips of steel that were her blue eyes.
‘What the hell’s going on Roger? Try something new today doesn’t mean Agnes!’ yelled Stella.

‘What the fuck are you doing, you dirty old pervert?’ gasped George from behind Stella, his face ashen and appalled ‘Come on now George, Dad’s just giving Agnes a piggy-back’ said Stella in desperation, trying to move George out of the room ‘I know what the fuck he’s doing’ said George ‘remember hotsex.com?’ Stella remembered the graphic internet site and subsequent row and knew she had to remove her son from the room immediately. Agnes had rushed to get her clothes, Roger had collapsed in a large pink heap, moaning and wailing George was weeping and the phone was ringing and ringing. Stella, blinded by tears, was still attempting to march George out of the room by his shoulders.
‘Mum, mum what’s going on? It’s Grandma on the phone, she says she needs to speak to you urgently!’ said Theo holding the receiver out to Stella ‘Tell her I’ll call her back later’ said Stella blocking the door and making sure that Theo, at least, didn’t witness the destruction of his family happening in the bedroom. ‘Grandma, she can’t talk now, she’ll call you later, we got back fine though and it’s only just started snowing, OK? Grandma says it’s not OK and she needs to speak to you straight away’ Theo handed his mother the phone. ‘I’m right in the middle of something, Mum, can’t it wait?’ Stella asked her mother, fighting back sobs and then, as her mother explained why indeed it couldn’t wait, she fell against the wall and her whole life changed forever.

Chapter 3

Twenty nine years and five stone ago, Stella first caught sight of Roger in the Student Union Bar in Fresher’s Week at Hull University. Tall, thin, languid and urbane, dressed in a black military jacket and pointed shoes, a Marlborough Red dangling from his long fingers and a blonde floppy fringe dangling from his high forehead, he was just what Stella had always wanted.
‘Go on, go and ask him for a light’ boomed Stella’s new friend Ali, from beneath her dyed black fringe and black-ringed eyes in her strong Manchester accent. Ali was in the next door room at their Hall of Residence and they had immediately spotted each other’s party animal potential amongst the hard working, bare-faced earnest students who made up the majority of the other girls. Stella had only been smoking for two weeks but had mastered the skill fast, already skipping lunch to buy 10 Silk Cut. ‘I can’t, it’s too forward he’ll think I’m a right slut, he’s too cool for me, he won’t be interested’ said Stella putting down her half pint of dry white wine so that she could light up. ‘Fookin get a grip of yourself! Look at you, you’re gorgeous!’ screeched Ali. At that moment a tall slim girl with long glossy black hair and skin–tight red Jean Machine jeans tucked into black suede pixie boots strolled up to Roger and kissed him full on the lips. Roger casually put his arm round her and they walked out of the bar together.

‘Well, that’s that then’ said Stella gloomily staring into her wine. ‘Come on, plenty more fish in the sea, what do you think of him, over there in the red and black furry jumper with the dungarees?’ Ali suggested, nodding towards the bar.

So began a year of hard partying, smoking, drinking and skipping early morning Spanish and French lectures unable to function after a night out at the Union Bar or in Spiders nightclub. Ali and Stella became firm friends and partners in crime.