Chapter 28 - Nick, Thursday

Well, that’s got to be the most awkward birthday tea I’ve ever been to, which, considering our family’s track record for these kind of things is really saying something!
I’d not been looking forward to it anyway - why would I? A whole meal of Mum celebrating her favourite? Dear God, it’s my idea of hell! If I could have gotten out of it I would, but it was a summons not an invite, and in the end it was easier to go than to make a fuss.

I had to rush to get there in time as it was, because I’d been working all day - a long shift as well, so I’d been on my feet all day. The only bonus was the arrival of Big Ben at 3pm, closely followed by a grinning Brenda a couple of minutes later. Word certainly gets around, although I’d not told her so I guess Big Ben did. I hope he didn’t tell Ben, but I expect it won’t take long for him to find out. I’m surprised he wasn’t working today - they usually do the same shifts, but I guess he had something better to do.
I didn’t really get much time to talk to either of them, just snatched conversations as I was swanning round with my clipboard. Nothing serious. I didn’t even get chance arrange when I’d see Ben next, which was annoying as I really want to see him again! I’ve got a bit giddy about the whole thing, which was completely unexpected.
I’d just finished my shift and was in the staff room changing to go over Mum’s when my phone rang. It was Dave, which took me by surprise as I haven’t seen him or heard from him in ages. We never really were phone friends, more just pub friends, so it took me by surprise. But not as much as the news he gave me - our Simon was arrested for shoplifting, and not only that he’d been queer-bashed whilst out cottaging. Fucking hell, I bet he was having a shit birthday. My God, what will Mum say?

I raced round to Mum’s and ended up getting there before Simon. Mum and I sat around making idle conversation, whilst she kept checking her watch and wondering where he was. It was very unlike him to be late, but of course she didn’t realise he had good reason to be. I couldn’t really say anything without giving away the fact I knew, so I just nodded and agreed that it was very unlike him to be late, especially on his birthday.
As soon as he turned up I could tell something was wrong - he was distracted and fidgety, and wasn’t looking anyone in the eye. I don’t think he knew I knew, and if he did he certainly never acknowledged it. Mum greeted him with open arms, a big hug and a quick chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’. I joined in as well, because it would have been a little conspicuous if I hadn’t. Then we went into the dining room to eat.
If I’d not known better I’d have thought it was a child’s birthday - plates full of sandwiches, a cake with candles, even trifle! Just the kind of birthday party we had when we were eight, do you think she’s not noticed that we’ve grown up in the meantime?
Simon sat behind a pile of presents, onto the top of which I added mine. He just looked at them until Mum prompted him to open them:
“They’re for you, open them or I’ll do it for you!”
She never lost her excitement for gifts - if only she’d retained it for other areas of her life.
My gift was first, and I could tell by the way Simon looked at it that it wasn’t his type of thing at all. Normally I might have given him a hard time for not liking it, but today wasn’t the day for that, so I just said the receipt was in the pocket if it was the wrong size. I expect he’ll exchange it for something plainer, which is a pity as it’s lovely!
Then Mum’s gifts - a jumper that Dad might like, but which a 38 year old should never be seen in - I expect Simon will wear it lots. A book that he must have told Mum he wanted, and a box of his favourite sweets. He started to say thank you, but the words stuck in his throat, and before I realised what was happening he’d burst into tears. Mum looked at me to see if I had a clue what was going on, then reached across the table and stroked his hand.
“What’s the matter love, do you not like your presents?”
Trust Mum to get the complete wrong end of the stick! Still, it made Simon smile briefly.
“No Mum, the gifts are great, I’ve just had a really bad day. I’m just being silly.”
Now Mum was confused, so she poured a cup of tea and passed round the sandwiches. I had to hand it to Simon, he covered it up really well - he wiped his face and was soon tucking into sandwiches as if they were the best meal he’d ever had. He wasn’t that chatty, which forced Mum to turn her attention to me. We talked vaguely about work - I played up my NVQ, as if it was a passport to a job in management, and generally made working in a supermarket sound far more fantastic than it actually is.
Then Mum served up the trifle, always a speciality of hers when we were kids, and her skill apparently hadn’t deserted her. I indulged my sweet tooth and had two bowl fulls - well, it’s not everyday you get homemade trifle is it! Then it was time for the cake - Mum lit half a dozen candles and we sang another chorus of ‘Happy Birthday’ before Simon blew them out. He gave a sad little smile when as he did, so I guess he was following the tradition of making a wish as they went out. No prizes for guessing what he was wishing for. I felt really sorry for him.
Cake over we helped Mum clear the table - I washed, Simon wiped up - just as we used to do as children. Mum made another cup of tea, and we sat rather awkwardly in the living room. I kept wondering if Simon was going to tell her, but it seemed pretty obvious that he wasn’t. But at least it would explain why we’d had such an odd evening - knowing Mum she’ll be thinking it’s all her fault. I guess she’ll realise once he tells her, but I wonder how long that’ll take?
Eventually Simon said it was time for him to go, so I said I’d walk to the bus with him. Mum kissed him goodbye, then did the same to me - not something we’d normally do, but I think she felt guilty about showing her favouritism so clearly. She put all his presents in a bag, and cut us each a piece of cake, then waved goodbye from the living room window as we headed down the road.
“Dave rang me”
Silence.
“I know what happened today.”
More silence.
“But if you don’t want to talk about it that’s okay with me.”
More silence. This was becoming annoying.
“Okay, fine, suit yourself. I don’t know why I bother.”
I stopped. He stopped too. He stood there, waiting for each other to speak. He got there first.
“You really hate me don’t you.”
“When you behave like a twat yes, but you’re my brother so I can’t hate you for long.”
“I’d hate me. I’m a twat.”
“Come on Simon, you’ve had a shitty day, why don’t we just go somewhere and talk about it? Or just get drunk and not talk about it? Maybe forgetting about it is exactly what you need to do?”
“That’s easier said than done!”
“Yeah, but it might be worth a try?”

We ended up in a pub round the corner from Mum’s. I got us both a pint, and we sat in the corner. Neither of us said anything for a while, we just sat sipping our beer and looking round the pub. But then Simon started to talk about what had happened, and about how unhappy he was. I felt bad, because it made me realise that I’d not been much of a brother to him, and I realised how much of a wedge Mum had driven between us because I refused to ignore Dad. I know it was awful for her when she left, but what kind of mother takes it out on their children in that way?
I asked him what he was going to do, and he seemed genuinely surprised - it hadn’t occurred to him to do anything different to what he normally did. But he clearly couldn’t go to work in that state, he really needed some help. So I managed to persuade him to go to the doctors, and even promised to go with him for support. And he had to tell Mum too - it’d only take one person to find out and that would be that - if the neighbours knew before her she’d never forgive him. I ended up promising to do it for him, as long as he went round afterwards to talk to her about it. I couldn’t persuade him to talk to Dad, but I promised myself I’d keep trying. Funny how it took something like this to get us to talk to each other, we even talked about the cottaging incident although I couldn’t quite bring myself to invite him out clubbing with me - it was hardly the time or the place, but I must try and find him some nice bloke. Hang on a minute, I haven’t even sorted one out for myself ,what was I thinking?! Oh, but I guess there was Ben. Aah, Ben, if only he was at home waiting for me….