You’re still going quite fast, Dan,’ I said in an attempt at a light-hearted voice, sheathed in panic. Dan wasn’t usually a fast driver, it felt dangerous – he felt dangerous. Was he becoming a middle-aged thrill seeker? My thoughts flickered briefly to my friend Jackie’s husband, who bought a sports car and left her for a teenager.
Eventually, Dan slowed down and I relaxed slightly, enjoying the gorgeous view, as we climbed higher up the mountain road.
We were spending our annual holiday, as always, with Dan’s family, his parents and brother. This year was something of a watershed as Dan’s parents, Joy and Bob, had decided to retire from the family business and wouldn’t be returning to work after our two weeks away. Dan had been part of the company for twenty years, but now as their parents stepped down, his younger brother Jamie had suddenly decided to come home and join ‘the firm’。
Now thirty-two, Jamie never been involved in the family business, a small property company on the outskirts of Manchester. He was too busy seeing the world and on visits home would enthral everyone with colourful and probably exaggerated stories from Nepal, Thailand, Africa, the coasts of Australia, the killing fields of Cambodia. It was all a far cry from Dan, who’d gone straight into the family business that recently he’d worked hard to keep afloat. Meanwhile, their parents indulged their youngest son, allowing him such freedom, tempered only with an affectionate eye roll whenever his latest ‘adventure’ was mentioned.
‘My free-spirited son won’t be pinned down,’ Joy would say, feigning frustration but glowing with pride. She missed him dearly when he was away but was delighted when he FaceTimed her from some exotic destination, always brandishing his Instagram photos for anyone who cared to look – and even those who didn’t.
‘I just don’t get the complete turnaround. Why on earth has our Jamie suddenly decided to give it all up to work at Taylor’s with me? It won’t last,’ Dan was saying as we headed for the villa.
‘Mmm, no beaches, no exotic food, no gorgeous women in bikinis – what on earth will he do?’ I sighed, thinking of the photos of Jamie, a montage of blue skies, beaches and beautiful people.
I understood Dan’s slight resentment; his little brother’s lifestyle seemed rather selfish, not least because his parents often had to help him financially. The Taylors were what Joy described as ‘comfortable’。 They weren’t rich and, understandably, Dan resented the way his parents gave his brother handouts. But Jamie was still Joy’s ‘baby’， and she and Bob would do anything for their two sons. Joy missed Jamie terribly when he was travelling, and when he didn’t call or text for a while she’d pore over his social media, hungry for titbits. ‘I can always find my Jamie on his Instagram,’ she’d say, like he’d set up his photographic account for her personal use. She’d delight in some photo of Jamie on a beach in Cambodia and be amazed when he turned up on the doorstep. ‘But your photo says you’re here,’ she’d exclaim, holding up her phone, and he’d point out that it was posted days ago and she’d laugh and shake her head in wonder at ‘my Jamie’ and his online ‘magic’。 I reckon she knew exactly what was going on, it was all part of the game she played with her ‘boys’： a way of making them feel special, superior even. I was never sure with Joy who was playing who – though I think it’s safe to say that despite appearing as the ingenue, Joy was usually in the driving seat.
‘I spoke to your mum yesterday before we left, she says the villa’s lovely. They got here about eight last night,’ I said, as we continued along the Italian coastline. ‘I just hope they take time to relax and kick back a bit,’ I said wistfully. This was an impossible dream for me. As well as being a full-time nurse and mum, I also maintained Taylor’s website, which sometimes felt like another job. Consequently, relaxing was sadly not on my daily agenda while at home, but for the next fortnight I wasn’t going to do a thing, and the website could wait.
‘Imagine Dad being with Mum all day when they retire, she’ll never let him rest.’ Dan smiled, shaking his head slightly at the thought.
‘He’ll be being dispatched to Sainsbury’s for sun-dried tomatoes or pickled figs or whatever it is she’s giving the ladies who lunch that day,’ I added.
He glanced over and we smiled knowingly at each other.
‘They don’t have much in common, do they? I sometimes wonder what they actually talk to each other about, your mum and dad.’