A Twice Lived Summer

Part 2 - Confronting Family Tensions

"Right, now tell me about it," his mother asked with her back to him, while she rummaged in the refrigerator, emerging with a selection of vegetables in her hands and crossing to the sink to dump them in.

Martin had leant back against the table to observe her, trying to gauge what kind of mood she was in. She had changed into dark, three-quarter length, linen trousers and a baby blue, sleeveless shirt, which suited both her fair colouring and her slim figure. Her feet were in soft, black ballerinas with little sparkles across the toes. Her hair was twisted up and tidy. She still had makeup on from being out, visiting, but it didn't completely hide the dusting of freckles across her nose. She turned her light, toffee-coloured eyes to him and frowned.

"Well? What are you waiting for?" She asked.

"I was just thinking that you look nice today." His spontaneous answer surprised them both. She wasn't used to hearing something like that from Martin and Martin was surprised that he had noticed how she looked and even more surprised he had said it aloud.

His mother blushed a little and after some hesitation, finally managed to get out a soft "Thank you. But," she continued, after clearing her throat, "are you ever going to tell me about this job you say you got today?"

She picked up the first potato and started peeling, taking her full attention from Martin, which made it easier for him to tell the story of going into town, because he had run out of books to read and was bored, going into The Second Wind, making small talk with Mr Bartlett about there being nothing much to do over the summer and him offering Martin a job to clean up the mess in the book and bric-a-brac section of his shop. It all came out in a bit of a rush because he did want her approval. A few hours ago, getting a job for the summer hadn't entered his mind, but now he had one, he desperately wanted to keep it and her approval would make leaving the house each day that much easier. He made no mention of the small, blue book with the strange name. The bag containing it was now on top of his winter shoes at the back of his wardrobe, where he had carelessly thrown it just minutes before.

With the potatoes in the pot and cooking, his mother turned her attention to preparing a salad. Typical of her, she was quick and efficient with her hands, but took her time to comment on his monologue of the day's events.

"What did you think of Mr Bartlett?" She asked finally.

The casual way she asked immediately raised a caution flag in Martin's mind. Why had she first asked about Mr Bartlett and not any of the other logical questions, such as how many hours he would work or how much he would be paid? It had been a surprise to him that his father knew Mr Bartlett so well, but it probably wasn't news to his mother. Not knowing what she wanted to hear from him he took a neutral path.

"I only spoke with him for a few minutes, but he seemed OK."

He suddenly decided to tackle the topic head on and added, "He said he knows Dad a bit."

Beth Redmond sighed. "Yes, they do know each other, and I can't say that knowing Rob Bartlett has been a good thing for your father."

"Why not?" He asked.

"Oh Martin, you know why. I think Rob Bartlett is one of the reasons your dad no longer goes to church with us. He filled his head up with ideas that go against everything the church teaches. He and his promiscuous wife, his drinking and laughing and talking helped to put your father on a path that takes him in the opposite direction to where you and I are going. He helped me lose my husband and you lose your father." Her voice got stronger the longer she spoke and as the anger and frustration that she usually kept in an ice-cold container, managed to squeeze itself out into the normally ordered and calm kitchen.