Unwanted Encounters

I am beginning to hope that my chances of the kind of relationship I'd like with Sarah are not as elusive as she seems to be. I tried four times to ring her on Saturday, each time being rewarded with a ringing that went on longer than The Last Of The Summer Wine. Upon the third attempt I tried ringing her mobile (I didn't try that method immediately as I didn't want to appear completely desperate) but that came back dead and switched off.

This annoyed me intensely, initially. I would not think it would be too much to expect that a person who has requested you call them be available to receive your call - not to be available borders on rudeness. But this emotional state lasted bare seconds (on each occasion - although by the fourth occasion this period has extended to beyond a minute) until I came back to sanity with an understanding that there'd probably be a perfectly forgivable reason for Sarah's unavailability.

So I went to bed on Saturday with a tendril of unfinished business flapping about. Thankfully I was tired so my thought processes failed to remain fixed upon this minor issue for any notable length, and I wafted gently into unconsciousness with swift effect.

I chose to leave this business unfinished for much of Sunday, as I was in a practical mood and the fairness of the weather saw me outside performing a few minor jobs that winter had seen me procrastinate about. Then once inside I donned my curlers and housecoat and set about the necessary household chores and even lumping in a handful of unnecessary ones. That's me and housework - I'm never keen to embrace such tasks but once I seem to get going I find difficulty in stopping.

Then came dinner and the Poppy Memorial discussion and Colin swearing and Andrew stomping off. Oh and Wales beat Italy; which probably was totally expected (although I do know enough about Rugby to know that Wales are probably much better than Italy).

Finally, once the dishwasher was loaded and the boys were upstairs and Colin was back absorbed in the Rugby and I had a very small measure of Glen Ord in my hand (it being Sunday) I sat down at the kitchen table and punched Sarah's number into the phone one further time.

And finally it got answered. And finally, it was Sarah! She was profuse and genuine in her apologies for not being available, and indeed her explanation was perfectly reasonable and somewhat alarming. She'd tried to drop Ruth off at Daniel's (her former husband's house) at six o'clock as arranged only to find Daniel not home, so she drove all the way home only to be immediately phoned and sworn at to a major degree by Daniel who said he'd been delayed at work and that Sarah should have waited (a whole hour sat outside his house!?) until he'd got home and by not doing so was trying to stop Daniel from seeing his daughter. Sarah offered a timetable re-arrangement but this was deemed unsuitable for Daniel's needs who remained adamant that she bring Ruth over now. So she drove Ruth back and handed her over. Then on Saturday she'd gotten a tearful call from Ruth saying that she'd run off from her dad's house as Daniel's girlfriend's children were being nasty to her so Sarah drove back to where Ruth had told her she'd run off to to pick Ruth up and take her back to Daniel's where they'd all had a heated talk for far too long, the upshot of which being Ruth came back to Sarah's. This was at half-ten last night by which time understandably Sarah was slightly frazzled and just wanted to tunnel into bed and go to sleep.

Once she'd gotten all this out she asked how I was. I told her I was okay, and then (for want of anything better to talk about) I told her about my request of my boys to visit Poppy's memorial and their reluctance to do so. Sarah said: I suppose they've all dealt with losing their mum in their own ways, and perhaps are a little scared of taking some steps back in acknowledging that aspect of their pasts. I said I didn't think it ran as deep as that, I just thought all three of them could not really be bothered. Sarah asked if I was bothered. I told her not overly, but it felt the right thing to do. I then moved the conversation on from what was too morbid a subject.

Sarah asked how I was getting on with my Lent resolve. I told her I was sticking to it. I didn't tell her that last Thursday I'd completely forgotten about it and had eaten a ham sandwich for lunch.

Then I heard a doorbell go at Sarah's end. She asked me to wait and I did so. And when she came back to the phone I immediately heard how flustered she sounded. She told me that Daniel had just turned up on her doorstep demanding to talk to her, and that she'd ring me back once he'd gone. I'd barely time to say okay and bye.

I topped up my drink and began to re-read Saturday's Guardian. Barely fifteen passed before the phone rang, so I picked it up and said Hello with (what turned out to be un-) suitable brightness.

Colin? said an old and sadly still familiar voice. I seemed to have swallowed a grapefruit as I suddenly could feel one in my throat. I croaked out a 'No' then put the phone down and stepped away from it and into the lounge. Colin seemed to be in a Sunday-afternoon daze on the sofa, so I shook him back to full consciousness and told him he had a call. As he blinked back to full awareness he asked who from and very coldly, I said: Dad. I watched as Colin's face paled then he hurriedly vanished into the kitchen, shutting the door.

Fifteen minutes later he emerged from the kitchen, wanting to talk to me, but I told him not to speak to me.

And with grim inevitability, Sarah never rang back.