It`s A Lemon

One of the things my Mother loved most was to be invited over to my house for a roast dinner, or a teatime buffet perhaps. I catered to her every whim, all her dietary needs, her likes and dislikes. I made sure everything was just so and would get quite anxious inside over doing just that.

One day, with her perfectly prepared lunch on a tray on her knees, because she wanted to watch TV, the second I sat down with mine she sweetly said, in her little girl voice "Was there any salt?" as she couldn`t enjoy her salad without it. "But I put it right next to your tray for you to use"  I said, exasperated I had to get up again. "I didn`t see it" she smirks, happy she had irritated me. It was a classic move, she hated people to be able to anticipate her game playing tactics and no matter how carefully I aimed, the goalposts were always moved at the last moment. During one visit when the house was particularly busy with comings and goings she commented it was worth coming, if only for the food. That says it all really. Ironic when I consider how food provided by them for me was so monitored and controlled by her, not least by her mood swings. By contrast the times that me and my Husband, were ever invited to hers for any type of meal, well they could be counted on one hand.

There was a Sunday lunch invite one time when I think she was trying to compete with her neighbour Ruby. My parents had a hushed but savage row which we over heard whilst sat in the garden. It seemed the Pork joint was still bloody and pink inside when Father came to carve it. I diplomatically suggested it go in the microwave as both us and the veg had been waiting for a while by now. It had an interesting texture when it finally made it to the plate. If we did ever eat at their house it was usually a chip shop tea and even buttering some bread, warming plates and providing condiments turned into a bit of a bun-fight. And so one day they rang out of the blue and asked us rather grandly over for tea. We had been not long been married and I was picking up on my Mother playing close attention to how well things were going for me. She observed my neat little home and coveted all the things I bought for it.

She kept tally of meals out and weekends away she heard of and in particular they were frosty when we bought a fairly new car, afforded by working long hours and a new, better paid job I had managed to get. And so we were invited to Tea, be there at 5 was the instruction. It all seemed quite odd and we anticipated some sort of announcement though what it could be we couldn`t imagine. When we arrived they both behaved oddly, there was a smugness about them and the atmosphere felt very strange. Small talk was made and then Mother said she would put Tea out, help was refused and she pointedly said "OK then Geoff" as she left the room. "We`ve got something to tell you" my Father said, looking very self satisfied. "We`ve bought a car" he announced. OK we said, puzzled as to why we were being informed in this bizarre way. "It`s in the garage", he waits for our reaction. We glance at each other and resist the temptation to laugh and say oh thats nice instead. We are told we can see it after Tea and then we go into the kitchen and sit at the table. It was quite surreal, not in the least easy or normal and it got even more weird when the plates were put in front of us.

There were a couple of slices of ham, a tomato and lettuce, a slice of bread and butter and a bottle of salad cream on the table. it could not have been more meagre. Cottoning on that this was a thinly veiled attempt to some how take us down a peg or two husband played along saying what a lovely tea, nice ham, where were the tomatoes from...? Really ? I glanced around the table and felt like I had fallen down a rabbit hole. After a small slice of cake Father was instructed to Get it out the garage and show them. We made suitable noises and I was pleased for them but was also trying to work out why we had to be told in such a contrived way and severed a paltry Tea in the bargain. Arriving back home we did a postmortem, in between laughing whenever we made eye contact and a few "What the actual ****.....? moments. We work out that Mother must of slowly been wound up to breaking point as she watched me apparently thrive and worse still seem to be living a grander life than she was. So a plan was hatched to keep up with us, rooted in petty jealousy and resentment, hence the spitefully frugal smoke screen Tea invitation. Honestly, you couldn`t make it up. All this took place a few months after they sold their last car which was beyond repair and they both had come to realise that driving was too demanding a task for my ailing Father now.

But then Husband reveals he has his concerns about the car. It has 3 keys....Why 3 I ask. Its what they call a lemon I think Husband informs me and goes on to explain Father showed him one key for the ignition, one for the doors and another for the boot. He tells me he is worried it is an insurance right off and quite possibly 2 cars welded together and resold. He says he cannot believe Father, a car mechanic all his life, had not cottoned on. Alarm bells were ringing and we were quite worried but when he had commented on the keys Father shut him down. We saw and heard little from them for a few months while Mother was ferried around town by her reinstated chauffeur. That was until we get a fraught call from Father who said the Police had been in touch about a paperwork issue and had, on inspection, impounded the car as it was indeed a Lemon. They lost their money and their car and naturally Father shouldered most of the blame from Mother as well as feeling like a fool he had not realised. So it all blew up spectacularly in their faces. And despite it all I felt so sorry for him.