{"id":445,"date":"2020-05-13T12:03:49","date_gmt":"2020-05-13T12:03:49","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/?p=445"},"modified":"2020-05-13T12:18:09","modified_gmt":"2020-05-13T12:18:09","slug":"lets-go","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/lets-go\/445\/","title":{"rendered":"Let’s go"},"content":{"rendered":"\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The Mass was interminable and the priest couldn\u2019t even remember his name. The burial was worse, raining non-stop. And in the pub afterwards, distant relatives sat gawping at her. They were part of Robert\u2019s extended brood from the countryside. Uncouthness clung to them like agricultural muck on your shoes.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            They were the first to leave, most of them with barely a word of commiseration. A middle-aged cousin stopped by her table, as unsure of himself as a ewe before a sheepdog.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018So like, y\u2019 know\u2026 he\u2019ll be missed. Good fellow he was\u2026 yeah.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Missed? By whom? she\u2019d wanted to say. But the \u2018whom\u2019 would probably have confused him.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Time to go home, Mum.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

            That complacent smile, that pasty face with its expectation that she was going to pen herself indoors for the rest of her life with her \u2018grief\u2019. The same Lord almightiness as his father. What did he know of who she was at all?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Grant\u2019s driving me back, Phil.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 Her teacher son looked suspiciously at the tall, well-built man at the bar. He was olive-skinned \u2013 West Indian on one side, apparently \u2013 and the guy must be ten years his mother\u2019s junior. Victoria, his mother, was decently dressed today in black jacket and skirt. But recently she\u2019d been dressing tartily, showing her cleavage, emphasising her bum. Had this Grant fellow been trying it on with her while his father lay dying in hospital?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018I\u2019m taking you home,\u2019 he said insistently. \u2018Let\u2019s go.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            He wants me back in my cage, she thought. But she\u2019d finally got a taste of freedom in her nostrils and liked it.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Grant sauntered across to her table, slow and cocky in a way she found attractive; just like John Wayne.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Everything OK?\u2019 <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Hop it,\u2019 Phil told him. \u2018This is family.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Why don\u2019t you ask your mother what she wants to do,\u2019 Grant said. He spoke nice and slow too. God, he made her hormones rattle. Sixty was the new thirty as far as she was concerned.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018My son doesn\u2019t think I need to be consulted.\u2019 Victoria said, and then reiterated to her son, \u2018Grant\u2019s taking me home. And on Saturday we\u2019re flying to Tenerife for a month.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018You \u2013 are \u2013 what? What about Dad? Are you just going to forget about him?\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0 \u2018Robert forgot about me years ago. I was just a bit of house furniture, a cook and cleaner. Didn\u2019t you ever notice, Phil? No, I don\u2019t suppose you did.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Your behaviour\u2019s bloody shameful. You\u2019re an embarrassment to your family.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            Grant gave her his hand and getting up, she said:  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018A month in the sun together. Like a honeymoon!\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018Listen to you!\u2019 said Phil. \u2018I honestly think you\u2019re going senile.\u2019<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            He stormed off.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

            \u2018He\u2019s a conceited git,\u2019 she said to Grant. \u2018He\u2019s like his father in every way. Well except biologically. No resemblance there, if you follow my drift. One day I must tell him about that \u2013 if the fun ever stops. Will the fun ever stop, Grant?\u2019             <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2018Let\u2019s go,\u2019 came the reply. <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Mass was interminable and the priest couldn\u2019t even remember his name. The burial was worse, raining non-stop. And in the pub afterwards, distant relatives sat gawping at her. They were part of Robert\u2019s extended brood from the countryside. Uncouthness clung to them like agricultural muck on your shoes.             They were the first to […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"rop_custom_images_group":[],"rop_custom_messages_group":[],"rop_publish_now":"initial","rop_publish_now_accounts":{"facebook_10158782359051062_103813597863211":"","twitter_1225722811282530305_1225722811282530305":""},"rop_publish_now_history":[],"rop_publish_now_status":"pending","_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2},"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false},"categories":[121,227],"tags":[238,237],"class_list":["post-445","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-121","category-may-2020-survival","tag-go","tag-let"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pbrNJE-7b","jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"post_mailing_queue_ids":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=445"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":448,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/445\/revisions\/448"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=445"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=445"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.swanseawriterscircle.co.uk\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=445"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}