Family Gatherings and Other Fakery

From time to time there would be a family celebration.
  It would be my Fathers family, not my Mothers. Other than casual visits there were never any specific parties with that side of the family. My Fathers family however would gather to mark Anniversaries, Birthdays and Christmas or sometimes, if we had not seen each other for a while.. `just because`. 

 We would all get dressed up and play Happy Families, even Mother would be on her best behaviour, most of the time anyway. It was the perfect opportunity for her to buy a new outfit and as we were going to be on parade my Father and I would get kitted out too. It was important to my Mothers image that we were seen, by his family, to be thriving in her care {yes I know} and so me mustn`t let the side down. We would be given chapter and verse of things not to mention as well as specific things to drop out in conversation, all allowing her to carefully edit the charade of a life she wished to convey. I could see my father getting edgy as he pondered the many pitfalls he may encounter in sticking to the script. "Wear ya best watch Geoff, Put some make-up on Amanda, Speak nicely....etc etc...." We had a favourite country pub we would all meet at. It was quite upmarket and had a lovely dining room, extensive menu and open fires. The Ladies was called The Powder Room and the Gents The Little Boys Room...oh how we laughed. I have a photo of a group of us standing outside, my Mother grinning wildly with her false teeth on display. I will not be posting it to `protect the innocent` as the saying goes.

 I enjoyed seeing my family, especially my Nan and Aunt. My Aunt though was now deemed `middle class` by definition of her lifestyle and I was acutely aware I lived in a council house and went to the local comprehensive. My childhood was vastly different to the one my two older cousins, her now grown children, had experienced, owning a horse and attending private school. I felt I didn`t really measure up or belong there, though I was always embraced by all of them and an interest was taken in me. It was a surreal experience, this charade of normality, all these happy, smiling faces, polite conversation and good grace with each other. I would look at my parents and think of the good hidings I had, his savage temper and how he would chase my Mother around the house half naked because she thought it funny and how coarse she could be, how she was the exact opposite at home when out of sight of prying eyes than she was with me now, pretending she knew what subjects I liked at school and only coming up with one, one which I hadn`t even chosen. It was all so far from reality it was almost like a dream at times. I watched them all and wondered what they would think if they knew the real truth. I tried hard to remember my Mothers approved topics of conversation. If I did well Mother would beam her approval, especially if someone commented... "Oh Ivy, Amanda always looks lovely, you do dress her well"...why then she would be positively giddy.

She would be in character all the way, using her actress voice, attempting to make small talk and trying to join in conversations, where she could, though often faltering as she never really paid attention to the thread of them. She would trail off mid sentence and wave her hand theatrically ending them with phrases like.. "And that type of thing...you know...." followed by an amused fake laugh. My Fathers family played along with her saccharine chat so as not to put Geoff  in an awkward position, they had an idea of what she was about, though I doubt any of them could begin to imagine just how twisted she actually was. As we drove home there would usually be a postmortem on how well it had all played out. If there was some perceived {non existent} snub there would be hell to pay for a few days with Fathers family getting ripped to shreds at every opportunity. If it had all passed off smoothly she would be on a high, I could do no wrong and it would Bingo and shopping all the way for at least a week.

There was one outing though where after lunch we went for a walk about a quaint little town. There were some nice touristy shops and Mother, who loved to browse, wandered a little too far from the group while exploring them. On becoming aware she could see none of the rest of the crowd nearby and having no idea where she was she began to panic that she had been left behind and was lost. After a frantic minute or so of dashing this way and that calling out "Geoff...GEOOOFFF".... she was just about to have a melt down when she spotted them, happy smiles greeted her with "Oh dear we nearly lost Ivy" and a little joke was made of it....all very friendly and gentle but her Narcissistic self had been injured and a rage was triggered, she shouted at my Father, where had he been and why had he left her, he looked desperately embarrassed and tried to apologise and lighten the mood but she felt a fool and the damage was done. She sulked from then onwards, refusing to be thawed out by any attempt at conversation and it all got so tense that it was decided we would part ways and head for home {and the legendary row that was scheduled on arrival} My poor Uncle, Fathers brother had the misfortune of being our passenger. Her door was slammed so hard when she got in its a wonder that the car didn`t fall off it. As the engine started and we pulled out of the car park to cheery goodbye waves from the rest, rigidly ignored by her, she turned the radio on full blast and opened the window so there was a cutting draught blowing on my Uncle and I, captives in the back seat together. We set off for home with the radio deafeningly loud and my hair blowing about wildly. She sat, arms folded, her elbow doing the telltale jerk as she mentally logged a list of injustices she had suffered during our, `nice family day out`. It grew colder and colder as the car whizzed along, my father driving as fast as possible to drop my Uncle off asap and aid his escape.

Eventually he was forced to say "Roll that window up a bit Ivy, its freezing"...she rolled it up a little and turned the radio up the final two notches by way of retaliation. I gazed out of the window at the hedgerows flying by and daydreamed about accidentally falling out of the car, being left behind, loosing my memory and getting adopted by the nearest farming family. A little escapism was a welcome antidote to the dread of finally arriving home. We raced along in silence and when the music became unbearable my Father told her "Ivy I can`t stand that any more" and turned it down considerably, my Uncle, to show solidarity, added reasonably,  " Yes, it is a little loud "  Her elbow flicked wildly at being `ganged up on`...Are you both mad  ? I thought... as I envisaged her grabbing the wheel and steering us straight at a tree out of spite. My Uncle was dropped off with the briefest of goodbyes and gave me a sympathetic smile. I then have no recollection of arriving home and what happened next so it must of been pretty bad. The worst of incidents seem to be blocked from my memory, perhaps the minds way of protecting itself maybe. We refused several invitations in the months to come until the  `Day we nearly lost Ivy`  was deemed forgotten, though my Father never strayed too far from her after that to avoid a repeat performance.