1974 was not off to a good start. Snuggled up beneath the duvet, she stared at her son, who sat on the opposite of the bed, transfixed by the New Year celebrations on the telly, and began crying again.
“Mum,” he said softly. “Please tell me what’s happened.”
“I’m sorry, darling,” she sighed, turning her attention back to the telly. “It’s nothing.” She was afraid of catching his eye. “Look at all those mad people.”
“Mum.”
“Why don’t you go check on Phyllis? She’s been downstairs for ages. It doesn’t take that long to make a cuppa,” she said distractedly, reaching for her watch on the nightstand.
Julian sighed and shook his head at her. She met his concerned eyes; he looked so much like his father.
“You either go and help Phyllis or you go to bed. It’s almost 1:00 a.m,” she said sternly.
“I’ll go to bed then,” he said flatly. “I know you and Phyllis are up to something. I know something’s going on.” He got up from the bed and pulled at the wrinkles in his pajamas. “Does this have anything to do with Dad not ringing anymore?”
“Everything’s fine and your father has nothing to do with this.” It physically hurt her to lie to him.
“Why hasn’t he phoned, then?” He pressed on.
“I don’t know, Julian.” She was too tired, too emotionally drained to make up another excuse for him.
“It’s not fair!”
“Don’t raise your voice to me. Go to sleep and we’ll talk about it in the morning.”
“No! I want to know why you were at hospital! I want to know why Dad isn’t ringing anymore. We visited him in America nearly two months ago and he hasn’t rang once! He didn’t even phone us on Christmas!” He shouted.
“Oi. Enough, Julian.” Phyllis walked into the bedroom carrying two cups of tea. “Leave your mother be. She’s had a difficult day.”
“Who drinks tea at one in the morning, anyway?” he huffed, before storming out of the room and down the hall to his bedroom. A door slam, so fierce that it rattled the walls, soon followed.
Cynthia looked at her friend. “I thought this wasn’t supposed to start until he was a teenager.”
Phyllis smiled and handed her the cup of tea. “You can handle it. You dealt with his father for ten years.”
“You were down there for ages. Is everything alright?”
“Well, I just had to make a quick phone call you see…” she stalled, sipping her tea and sitting down in Julian’s spot on the bed.
“A quick phone call? I thought you already rang home at midnight. Who did you call?”
“John.”
“Phyl!”
“He has a right to know, Cyn. He should know what happened.”
“Fantastic.” Cynthia set her cup of tea down on the nightstand and began rubbing her temples anxiously. “How could you ring him without telling me?”
“Don’t be daft. I knew you wouldn’t have it. I’m your best friend, remember?”
“I can’t believe you rang him after everything he said about me.”
“He’s worried about you, Cyn. Honestly. He feels awful. I’ve never heard him so low.”
“You should know better by now. That will last all of five minutes. Don’t you remember what happened last time? He didn’t even come home. He didn’t even bloody leave the tour early, and he was my husband.” She felt her eyes welling up.
