Good For You.

I

NOT YOU TOO!
I can hear her now, laughing and saying `I told you so.' I
hated that laugh. It was bitter. She always laughed when I
made mistakes or came to grief. Then she'd wag her finger and
say, `I told you so.' She delighted in saying it. She loved to
be right and she positively adored telling me I was wrong.
`There you are, I told you so.' I waited for it, knowing it was
coming, longing for it to be over and done with.
`If you marry him you'll be sorry!' If I didn't marry him
it was on the cards I'd be just as sorry. `Marriage isn't all
beer and skittles!' So what? `You'll live to regret it, mark
my words.' I listened but nevertheless I went ahead and married
him.
We settled for the cheapest option we could find. A
registry office at midday on Thursday with witnesses off the
street. As soon as the knot was tied I telephoned and spoke to
my father. `I shan't be in tonight, Dad.?'
`Why not?'
`I'm going on my honeymoon. I'll be back Sunday to collect
my things.'
`And you want me to tell your mother. That's a dirty
trick.'
`Dad... you know what she is...'
`Only too well. Haven't I lived with her for thirty years?'
`Please Dad.'
`I'll tell her you'll be back Sunday but I won't say where
you are.'
`O.K. Tell her I'll be bringing my husband for dinner.'
`No!' he said. `Do your own dirty work.'
`Dad, you don't mean that.'
`No love. Congratulations, only don't tell Mum I said so.'
I felt a lot better after that. I don't know why Dad had
stayed with her so long. It was just the same for him. `Don't
take that tea in the garden, you'll break the cup.' Dad would
get het up and sure as eggs is eggs the handle would come off
or he'd kick it over while he was reading his racing paper.
She'd be there before you could say knife . She'd wait
watching, willing him to break it and as soon as he did, down
she came like a ton of bricks.
`I told you! Didn't I? I said you'd break it. I said take
it into the garden and you'll break the cup.' Then Dad'd put
his foot in the saucer and she'd have one less of those too. I
couldn't wait to leave, but I was sorry for Dad staying on.
On Sunday when we got back from Torquay I knocked and Ken
opened the door for me. He's got lovely manners. The table was
laid in the living room, Dad was sitting in his place waiting
and Mum came rushing in from the kitchen.
`Hello,' I said, `You've met Ken haven't you Mum... and Dad?'
`Ken said his howdyado's very politely I thought but Mum
stood with her hands on her hips looking as pleased as Punch
with herself.
`There Arthur, what did I tell you? Complete new outfit.
She's got more money than sense. Got it on credit so they
start their married life in hock.' Then she laughed and said `I
told you so.'
I said everything was paid for, but she didn't believed me.
Goodness knows our wedding had cost little enough. I hadn't
asked them to contribute, they never had money to spare and it
would have hurt me more to ask and be rejected. Dad wasted
more than was sensible on the horses and Mum was no more
successful on bingo. They occasionally had a win but it was
always returned to source.
Give Mum her due she'd laid on a nice spread for us. Roast
beef and Yorkshires and tinned fruit to follow.
`I thought you'd better have a good meal before you set up
on your own. You'll be on the bread line from now on, no
doubt.'
`What makes you say that?' Ken asked.
`Well, there'll be rent, furniture, bedding, heating, before
you start thinking about feeding and clothing yourselves. Where
are you going to live? I don't suppose you've got a job have
you?'
`Gorse Cottage, Enderby.' Ken was a man of few words.
`Living with your mother.' Mum had it worked out. Ken's Dad
died when he was a child. `It's no good living with in-laws.'
`No,' he said, `Mum lives in York.'
Mum knew nothing about our plans for obvious reasons. We
weren't going to tell her any more than we had to. She'd
do her best to ruin our marriage as it was and the less she
knew the better our chance of survival.
`What about furniture?' She wasn't giving up yet.
`It's furnished quite nicely, Ken's been living there for
two years, we've saved for a few things and when his Aunt Ginny
died he had all her stuff.'
`You'll be off to a good start then.' It was the first time
Dad had spoken, since we began the meal, `How many bedrooms
have you got?'
`Three.' I said, `And a bathroom built on the back.'
`You'll be too proud to speak to the likes of us then Mary.'
`We hope you'll come to see us, both of you.' I thought it
was real nice of Ken to say that but I didn't want Mum coming
too soon so I said, `We'll be busy painting and decorating at
weekends and in the evenings for some time yet.'
We cleared the dishes and were on to the tinned peaches
before Mum tried again. `How are we going to know when to
come? Enderby's five miles away.'
Ken took a pencil out of his top pocket, `Have you got a
scrap of paper?' he asked. Dad tore the edge off his racing
paper. `Will that do?'
`That's our 'phone number. We'll both be working during the
day but we'll be in most evenings.'
Mum's mouth fell open. `A telephone! Are you made of money?'
We didn't tell her the phone had been put in by Ken's boss.
Ken was game keeper on the Enderby Estate and his boss liked
to be in touch with him even when he was away from the estate.
`You'll be up to your necks in debt before you can look
round, you mark my words.'
`Everyone has phones these days Mum.'
`Oh do they? How are you going to pay the bills I'd like to
know? It's difficult enough for us.' I wanted to say, we
shan't be wasting money on racing and bingo but I bit my
tongue.
`I'll go and pack my things,' I said, `You'll have a spare
room now Mum, that'll be useful won't it?' We'd finished the
washing up and Ken and I couldn't wait to get back to our own
little home.
`Can I help?' said Ken.
Mum was quick off the mark. `I beg your pardon young man,
my daughter doesn't entertain in her bedroom!' We burst out
laughing.
`He's my husband Mum. Come on Ken.'
We packed most of my stuff into large plastic bags. My best
things went into Ken's old suitcase and my shoes in my holdall.
When the room was empty I felt quite sad. I'd spent a lot
of time there throughout my childhood, my teens and my early
twenties. I played there, did my homework there, and made
things for my bottom drawer when I wasn't with Ken. It looked
much bigger now with nothing in it.
`Why don't you redecorate my room? You could do bed and
breakfast, or take a lodger; with a decent desk in there it
could be a student's study bedroom.'
`Why would we want to do that?' Dad asked.
`Supplement your income, give you someone else to look at
besides each other.' Mum screwed up her nose.
`Why not Mum? You'd enjoy it. A splash of paint and some
new curtains it would look fine. Think about it.'
`How are you going to get that lot to Enderby?' Dad asked.
`How do you think?'
`You'll be walking, pushing your bikes I reckon.'
`Never,' I said, `We'll tie the bags on like panniers, hang
the holdall on the handlebars, the boxes...'
`Hang on,' said Dad, `You're having us on, there's a taxi
coming isn't there?'
`No taxi,' Ken said. Mum went into the front room and peered
under the nets. `Well I go to sea...' She didn't say any
more.
We took our bags out and stuffed them in the back of Ken's
old Land Rover. It wasn't really his but that's what we called
it because his boss allowed him to use it for his own purposes
providing he paid for the petrol.
`I think they were impressed,' I said to Ken.
`And a bit jealous,' he said. `What's the betting they let
your room like you said and buy a car with the proceeds?'
`Never! It'd go on the gee-gees or down the bingo before
they could save enough to buy a wheelbarrow.'
We didn't hear from them for several months. I didn't want
to phone first and they didn't phone because... well because.
We were stripping walls in the second bedroom one Sunday
afternoon when we heard something pull up outside. Ken looked
out of the window.
`Oh, look!' he said. Dad was coming up the garden and Mum
sitting in the front seat of an ancient Ford Escort.
`Well I'll be ...' It was then, Ken first said it; `I told
you so.'

FINIS
Approximately 1,580 words. Rosa Johnson.