It had started early in August, when Mike had suggested we go and spend a long weekend in his boss’s caravan in North Wales. And with the kids being of the age where they could think of better things to do with their respective weekends, he had also made the monumental decision that just the two of us would go.
‘What, leave them home alone for the whole weekend?’ I’d spluttered, when he suggested it over tea. I could already see it in my mind’s eye; me in panic mode for the duration. How could there possibly be any fun in that?
‘Please, Mum!’ Riley had pleaded, correctly sensing from her dad’s expression that she was probably onto a winner. ‘All of my friends have been looking after themselves for years! I swear I’ll keep the house clean,’ she added for good measure, knowing what might be my main worry after either of them being murdered in their beds. ‘And I promise I’ll look after our Kieron properly.’
‘I can take care of myself!’ Kieron replied indignantly. ‘In fact it’ll probably be me looking after you, Ri! We all know how scatty you are. I’ll probably have to show you how to turn the cooker on.’
If the fact that they were already at each other’s throats hadn’t already had me in a cold sweat, the thought of them being involved in using the cooker definitely would have done. And if Mike hadn’t stepped in I’m quite sure I’d have cancelled everything right then.
‘Casey, love,’ he said calmly, ‘me and you are going and that’s that. If we have to leave money for takeaways every night, then that’s what we’ll do, but we’re having a few days away by ourselves and these two will have to figure it out. They’re old enough to manage, and’ – he paused, to fix them one by one in his sights – ‘we know we can trust them not to throw any wild parties while we’re gone.’
My jaw had dropped. I hadn’t even thought about parties yet, which sent me into another panicked spin. But Mike was right, however much I flapped and fussed and fretted. There came a time, I supposed, when you just had to trust your kids to do the right thing; trust that you’d brought them up to be independent enough to look after themselves. Even so, our few days in Wales included many phone calls home, despite Mike trying to dissuade me from checking up on them all the time. But the snippets of reassurance I got from both Riley and Kieron did nothing to prepare me for the bombshell that was to hit us when we returned, and Riley had us gather once again around the table.
‘Now, before you start,’ she said, looking at me more than her father, ‘I’ve given this a lot of thought, okay? A lot. It’s not just a whim, and I know what I’m doing.’
‘What are you doing then? Spit it out,’ I said, my heart already lurching. The house was still standing and all seemed okay. So what was she about to announce to us? Was she pregnant?
Apparently not. ‘Well, I’ll just come right out and say it,’ she continued. ‘David and I have decided we’re going to move in together. Just as soon as we’ve found a nice flat.’
I stared open-mouthed at my pretty, young daughter. And then at Mike, just to check he was as horrified as me.
Strangely, he didn’t seem to be. And Riley looked positively indignant at my expression. ‘What?’ she demanded. ‘Why do you look so surprised? We’ve been together ages! I’d have thought you’d have been happy for me.’
‘Love, you’re too young for such a big thing!’ I said, gathering my wits and shooting Mike a call for support with my eyes. ‘What’s the rush anyway?’
‘Oh, Mum, I’m not too young at all,’ Riley said dismissively. ‘You just want to keep us like flipping babies! I’m a grown woman,’ she added. ‘And I’ve made my decision. In fact, while you were away, me and David have been flat-hunting.’
Ah, it was all making sense now. No wonder she was so keen to pack us off to Wales, I thought dejectedly. I stood up, struggling to keep a rein on my temper. Inexplicably, I also seemed to be on the verge of angry tears. ‘Oh, is that so?’ I snapped at her, banging my chair back into place, while Mike looked on, his expression apparently stunned. ‘Well, you can tell David that the plans have changed. It’s ridiculous, Riley. You’re both far too young to be thinking about that sort of thing right now. And the last thing you should be doing is wasting money on rent. You should be saving your money so you’ll have something for a deposit, when you can afford to buy somewhere.’
Like a house. Down the line. A good way down the line, too. Far enough down the line that I didn’t have the spectre of my little girl leaving home – leaving me – on the horizon. Because that was what it was really all about.
But it seemed it was going to happen, even so. For the first time in her life, my daughter took me on and went against me, insisting that, no matter what I said, she was moving out and there was nothing that her dad and I could say to change her mind. Not that Mike was saying anything, it had to be said. Not a peep.
Boxes suddenly started appearing on the landing, packed with things from her bedroom, almost taunting me, daring me to try to stop her, and relations between us were frosty, to say the least. Poor Kieron and Mike avoided both of us whenever we were in the house together, both hating the tension and the inevitable confrontations.
I behaved ridiculously, looking back – being both petulant and petty, grabbing things she’d packed and pointing out they weren’t hers to take with her, even going so far one day as to remind her that this was real life; that if she was leaving, then she’d have to find the money to buy home comforts of her own.
Cover myself in glory, I did not. It was almost a kind of madness. So much so that one day, just a week back, she’d collared me in the kitchen, grabbed my hands and said, ‘Mum, can’t you just be happy for me?’
It was at that point that I realised what I’d so far not seen. That it was me being the child here – a child who was simply afraid. Not for my daughter – she and David were clearly very much in love, and David was a hard worker who would always provide for her. No, I was afraid for myself. Maybe of acknowledging that I was getting older, maybe of the terror of empty nest syndrome. Either way, the realisation hit me like a brick when it did arrive. It was enough to end hostilities and was the first in a long line of lessons to come – reminders that the balance had shifted, and would keep doing so; that there were things my daughter could teach me. My adult daughter.
Which was not to say everything was immediately hunky dory. It was still difficult for me to let go, hard not to welly in. They duly found a flat to rent (only a few minutes from home, which cheered me up no end) and every night after work the pair of them would be round there, cleaning and painting. But now I’d come round to it, I still couldn’t let them alone. Hence this morning’s terse exchange, following my suggestion the previous evening that when I’d finished school for the day I could pop round and do the bathroom with my bleach spray and marigolds, the subtext of course being – and it wasn’t conscious, honestly – that they wouldn’t do it quite as well themselves.
And so came the text: Spoke to David and we’d rather sort the flat out ourselves Mum, so please don’t go round there, we’ll take you to see it when we’re done.
And so off went my text, which was supposed to be light-hearted, but clearly wasn’t: Fine, if that’s what you want, but don’t blame me if you both come down with something with all those germs!
And so to Riley’s riposte. A clearly heartfelt ‘whateva!’
I now texted back a ‘love you too’. On balance, it was helpful to be back in school again, whatever was – ahem – thrown at me, and as I closed my phone I reflected that having other things on my mind that I could hopefully do something to change, I would be much less preoccupied with things I could – and should – do nothing about. Like the fact that my daughter was grown and had a right to her own life. That where she led, Kieron would surely follow. No, I thought, pushing up the sleeves of the elderly cardigan, it was better