Read Online In a Class of His Own by Georgia Hill - Free Book Online

behind her
quickly, put down her teacup and finally got serious. She put her
hand on my arm. “Your mum’s showing signs of depression, as we
thought.” She nodded, almost to herself, hesitated then went on,
“If the counselling doesn’t work then the doctor’s going to put
her on a course of drugs.” She must have seen my look because she
then added, “But Nicky, I didn’t want to get your Dad alarmed. He
doesn’t understand this kind of thing does he?”
    I
agreed vehemently:
“Understatement of the century!” “But Joyce I’m at school all
day and often work into the evenings as well, I don’t know if I can
do anything for her.” I had visions of my new found and tiny but
perfectly formed flat disappearing. Then I shook my head and grimaced
at my selfishness.
    Joyce
smiled. “Listen lovie, Betty is my friend and she’s my new
project. Your mum is a proud woman, she doesn’t want any help from
her daughter or husband. She doesn’t want you to think there’s
anything
wrong.” She patted my arm again. “But she’ll take it from me,
either as a professional or a friend. It doesn’t matter. What
really matters is she gets well again.” Joyce paused, sighed and
then went on, “Mind you Nicky, there’s sometimes no cure, as
such, for depression. Your mum might have to learn to live with it,
to cope with it as best she can.” Then Joyce smiled again and
wagged an affectionate finger at me, “And you’ve got your own
life to live, I don’t see you doing much for yourself at the
moment. Would your mum and dad want that?”
    I saw Joyce out and
returned slowly to the kitchen where I poured myself yet another cup
of tea. It was cold but I needed it to think with.
    “Well,
I just don’t know what to think of that Joyce woman but she
certainly seems to do your mum good.” Dad returned with the tea
tray. He nodded towards the lounge. “Your mum’s in there saying
she and Joyce are planning a trip to the cinema. There’s a showing
of ‘Dr. Zhivago’ at the Roxy next week. Still, at least she’s
on the mend, eh Nicola love?”
    He began to fill the sink
with hot water and frothed some washing up liquid into it
energetically. Then he changed the subject, as I knew he would. “You
never did get around to telling me what you got up to on Saturday.
Seeing friends, were you? You can’t have been at that school all
day. You work too hard you know, Nicola. It’s about time you had a
life of your own. It’s not good for you to be stuck in with us all
the time.” He rattled this speech off, without looking at me. “Now
that your mum’s better, why don’t you start looking for a place
of your own?”
    The
kettle boiled and clicked off, making me jump and bringing me back to
my surroundings. I looked around the little flat, which had now
become the place of my own. As I did so I remembered how,
with that cue from Dad, I’d poured out all my worry and
frustration. About the offer of the flat, about how concerned I’d
been about Mum and him too. How I felt I couldn’t leave them on
their own. Dad had been astounded. He’d turned from the sink and
had flipped the lucky black cat tea towel over his shoulder.
    “Nicola
love, is that the reason you moved back in with us?” He’d tutted
and shook his head with infinite weariness. “And here’s me
thinking you’d got fed up living in London!” He’d dried his
hands on the tea towel with great concentration and had continued to
speak, in a rush, as if he didn’t get it out now, it wouldn’t get
said. He’d said that if I really wanted to go ahead with the flat
that I could always move back in again if things didn’t work out
and wasn’t I only just down the road? That it would do Mum the
power of good to come over to see me and I could come back for Sunday
dinner, every now and again. I had no idea if he really felt this way
or if he was sensing the unhappiness warring with my guilt but it put
the seal on my decision.
    And so a few days