Read Online Where Have You Been? by Wendy James - Free Book Online Page A

themselves reasonably busy in their retirement (overseas holidays, veterans golf tournaments, visits to shows, casinos, clubs...), but he’s convinced (despite Susan’s rolled-eyed assurances to the contrary) that these excursions are just time-fillers, diversions from their empty nest. He worries too that his father’s professed lack of interest in the current running of the company – though he’s still a shareholder, he hasn’t called in more than half a dozen times in the last year, and no longer asks about the bank balance – is just a smokescreen for a profound, and perhaps repressed, grieving. Ed feels guilty about feeling guilty, too (guilt being such an unproductive emotion, and surely only appropriate when there’s a conscious dereliction of duty). And it isn’t a duty anyway (is it?) when he so thoroughly enjoys the time spent eating and talking; the inevitable game of cards. Susan might sigh with relief when they’re safely home again, the fractious, overindulged children tucked up and asleep, but not Ed. Never Ed.
    The carving of the leg, however, is one ritual that Ed doesn’t particularly enjoy. His mother frequently takes this opportunity to have what she terms a good heart-to-heart with her son: which usually means a not-so-subtle nag session or the laying of a few carefully concealed barbs. Tonight his mother pauses in her serving and looks gravely at Ed.
    â€˜You’re getting a little podgy, Edward,’ she says. ‘You should go without gravy and potatoes tonight, and not serve yourself so much meat. You don’t want to end up looking like your Uncle Frank now, do you?’ She puts her arm around his waist and squeezes him affectionately – making it impossible for him to take offence.
    Ed says nothing, waits, intuiting that the underlying purpose of tonight’s chat hasn’t yet been revealed. He’s almost certain that she’s not really interested in his few excess kilos. Ed has been steadily gaining weight over the last twelve months – he’s had to go up a trouser size, and his shirt collars are getting a little too tight – but this is the first time his mother has made any mention of it.
    â€˜Is there something wrong, darling? Is something bothering you?’ She has resumed her serving, has asked her question in a manner that Ed, from long experience, knows is cunningly deceptive in its casualness. ‘It’s not like you, Eddy, to let yourself go like this.’ She goes on, ‘You seem – well frankly you seem a little down, darling. Depressed. Depression’s a terrible strain on the waistline.’
    Ed murmurs something noncommittal, keeps carving. Then: ‘God knows you’ve got good reason, darling. All those changes you’ve been making at the factory – all that work! – and that horrible mortgage and now there’s this upset of Susan’s to deal with – this will of her mother’s. I suppose that’s what’s worrying you?’ She asks her questions with such earnest motherly concern, that if he did not know her better it would be possible to misconstrue her motivation, to mistake it for the real thing.
    He smiles brightly, steadily. ‘I’ve just been eating too much, Ma, and not getting enough exercise. It’s no more complicated than that. It’s purely physical, nothing psychological.’
    â€˜Oh, don’t be so silly, Ed. I can tell when you’re not happy. I’m your mother, remember?’ She picks up the tongs,slaps a single slice of meat onto each plate. ‘Why can’t you ever admit that everything’s not perfect? What are you trying to prove? Your father and I have had our problems, I’ve never tried to hide them – they’re a part of every marriage.’
    Ed spoons the peas carefully, stays silent. He is not quite sure what she’s referring to here, is floundering, as he always has, in