A Tale of Two Mothers Pt. 02

I was in school when he fronted up at Broadmeadows Magistrates Court but I heard about the result when I got home. Mum had taken the day off work and was sitting on the couch with her coffee and a mobile phone beside her. She was not alone though, a woman I'd never seen was filling out some papers and mum introduced her as Elke, a detective from Maroondah Police station.

"Your dad has been found guilty," she told me.

"What happens to him now?"

Mum looked at Elke who merely inclined her head.

"He's been dishonourably discharged but he has the right to appeal in a month at a hearing."

"So, he might not lose his job?" I asked her.

Elke hesitated before answering.

"There's every likelihood he won't, it would mean an appeal against the sentence and a new court case and this time your mother would be required to testify."

Not much more was said about it apart from the fact he'd been given a suspended sentence, which meant he would only do jail time if he broke the conditions or re offended. Under the circumstances it wasn't actually a bad result. He could still see his kids and mum was still okay with him taking us to the Gold Coast.

"You kids need to give him space," she told us after Elke left, "if you want to see him this weekend I'll allow it but only if he consents."

Dad didn't consent but he promised to see us after the appeal.

"I just can't give you a date yet."

No mention was made of mum and neither Paul nor I raised the issue, it all seemed so raw at the time and we were both worried about reigniting the tension. Mum seemed ambivalent about the situation but I could tell she was tense because she seemed a little more short tempered for the next two weeks at least.

That eased however when Elke dropped in to see mum. They were out in the back yard for a while and then mum followed her down to her car and they talked some more. When she came back mum looked thoughtful.

"What would you think about the idea of dad taking you up to Marysville in two weeks time for the weekend? There's a support group for single fathers and their children, some of the activities are organised but you and your brother will have time to spend with him alone too. Technically it's outside the agreement between us but under the circumstances I'd reconsider because there's plenty of supervision and trained counsellors."

I said that was cool and Paul was also all for it. I was going to call dad that night but mum said it was too late to call and so I called him on the Friday night. I left a message on his home phone and tried his mobile, I even sent him a text and that eventually got a response when he texted back saying he'd be home Sunday night.

I remember that Sunday night vividly. Mum decided on a whim to take herself over the road to see Birgit, not an unusual thing by any standard. What struck me as odd was what she was wearing, a white blouse under that pinafore dress she mentioned in her story. She'd had her hair done recently and it had softened her demeanour remarkably. When I asked why she was wearing work clothes just to go and see Birgit she shrugged.

"Because I felt like it," she kissed me on the forehead, "have you called dad yet?"

"I will tonight, he sent me a text."

"Good," she replied, "don't forget to be in bed by ten, and don't forget to brush your teeth," she stepped back and called out, "Paul! I'm leaving now, can you please tidy your room if you want your pocket money tomorrow morning."

Paul came through in his jeans and tee shirt, he had a basketball in his hand and he gave mum the once over as he bounced the ball.

"Where are you bouncing that?"

"Outside," he nodded, "why are you dressed in work clothes?"

"I'm not, these are just clothes I happen to wear to work when we've got something on afterwards," she picked up the wine bottle, "you're in charge so no fighting. In the event of nuclear war, a fire or some other emergency I'll be at Birgit's joint."

And with that she was gone, leaving me to call dad.

Dad answered on the third ring and sounded tired.

"Sorry, I was sleeping," he mumbled, "what's wrong?"

"I just wanted to say hello," I replied, "so hello."

"Hello back," he answered.

"I missed you at the weekend," I replied and then I told him about this weekend away at Marysville and at first he sounded wary.

"What's the catch?"

"There is no catch," I replied, "mum's actually suggested it, it'll be cool, dad. You won't be on a couch all night and we can do things together."

"Let me think about it," he replied.

We moved onto other things, what I was doing at school and even though I wasn't supposed to talk about mum, he seemed almost philosphical about the whole thing.

"I can't blame her for pressing charges," he sighed, "I would have done the same thing."

He then said a very strange thing just before he had me pass the phone to Paul.

"Tell your mother I always loved her."

Paul's conversation with dad was shorter than mine, he wanted to go back out and play basketball and I went back to drawing. It was one of my favourite subjects, apart from French of course and I was getting pretty good at drawing. Mum came back from Birgit's about half past ten to find me still awake and instead of telling me to get into bed she actually sat down and smiled.

"God, I feel like a weight's been lifted off my shoulders."

She looked a little flushed and I could smell the wine on her.

"You smell like Dan Murphy," I screwed up my nose.

"Thanks," she kissed my cheek, "I'll go change, how's about you get into bed too?"

"Can I stay up for another fifteen minutes? I need to finish this last bit."

"Okay," she shrugged, "I'll let you stay up until eleven, how's that?"

I went back to finishing my drawing while mum got changed but then the doorbell rang and I heard mum calling out.

"Don't open it, I'll get it."

She reappeared in her nightie and a dressing gown and opened the door. I never saw who was there but I heard her say, "oh, shit," and then "oh, fuck."

I jumped up as Elke ushered her inside, there were two police officers with her, mum looked as white as a ghost.

"Get Paul, now," she pointed.

I raced through to get Paul, he was lying in bed with the bedside lamp on and it took him a while to get out of bed and follow me through to the living room. The policewoman ushered us into the kitchen but I saw mum was sitting opposite the male officer, talking in a low voice devoid of emotion and I felt sick and shaky.

"We'll just sit here for a few minutes while my colleague talks to your mum."

"Are my grandparents okay?"

"They're fine, I promise you."

We sat there for a few minutes and then mum came in with Elke, she folded her arms and put her back against the wall.

"Did you call your father tonight?"

"I did, just like you said."

"Good," she bit her lip, "can you please tell Elke what you two talked about?"

"I, is dad?" I stopped and mum stepped out of the room.

"I'll get her phone for you."

I told Elke what we'd talked about and by then mum had come back with my phone and the other cop checked the time of the call and then looked at mum.

"Do you want us here now?"

"You can stay but can someone go over the road and fetch Birgit? It's the house diagonally across the road."

"I'll go," the policeman nodded.

Mum sighed as she looked at us.

"Your father is dead, it was a suicide."

I have blurred memories of what happened after that. I remember screaming and then mum had her arms around me but I was fighting back against her. By the time Birgit came over I had collapsed into a sobbing mess on the table and Paul wasn't much better although his crying wasn't as loud as mine. Birgit must have been told because she took control in an instant, ushering us into the living room while mum talked to the police. I cried some more and then mum came through with some hot chocolate and set it down on the coffee table.

"Thanks," she smiled weakly at Birgit, "a hell of a way to end an evening."

I thought that a strange thing to say but I was to find out the truth much later and with that in mind I have to head off to bed but I'm going to read mum's piece again because it genuinely moved me. She must have seen so much in her life and the fact she could remain so calm is an example I can follow unflinchingly.

***

Okay I'm back now and because I was up so early I called mum to talk about the funeral and what happened immediately afterwards.

"I felt like I'd reached my breaking point," she told me, "if it hadn't been for Birgit I think I would have been in therapy. Birgit was my unpaid therapist, friend and lover."

That much was obvious, Birgit's presence in the house was reassuring. We were kept home on the Friday and because the funeral wasn't until the following Thursday mum kept us home all week and thus Birgit's daily visits were a relief to all of us. She would appear every night about dinner time with something she'd prepared the night before. Mum would just let her loose in the kitchen and either lie down in bed or doze in the couch. Birgit would have dinner with us and then us kids would clean up afterwards. She'd help mum with housework or babysit while she went to see her parents or sisters. When Birgit left at night she'd go back home to prepare another meal that would be reheated the next night, and she did all this with a minimum of fuss while all about people were either on autopilot or spiralling into depression.

The fact that these two were lovers never occurred to either Paul or I, and it wouldn't come out for another month or so. Such was Birgit and mum's self control that when they finally came out to us I for one was completely surprised and yet looking back the signs were there.

Like the fact that mum and Birgit would greet each other with a hug and farewell each other with a kiss on the cheek, although that had been happening since mid August. However, seeing mum step into the bathroom while Birgit was taking a shower was a new phenomenon, and on the day of the funeral they were both in mum's bedroom for quite a while. When they emerged mum looked as if she'd been crying. She was dressed completely in black, the blouse, skirt suit stockings and shoes. Birgit stopped her at the door to adjust a brooch at her throat.

"You'll be fine, call me if you need me and I'll be there."

"I still feel guilty," mum looked at her.

"Don't feel guilty," Birgit kissed her on the lips, "I'm due a sick day so no one's going to think twice about it."

It was only then that I moved and they both turned at the same time. Birgit had a hand on mum's hip and mum had an arm around her waist. A moment later she threw her arms around Birgit and kissed her on the neck. It was the clearest sign yet that something was happening.

The funeral still haunts me today because of Granny Murphy's decision to force mum into a row where his former colleagues and other friends were sitting. What made it worse though was her 'suggestion' that Paul and I could sit with the Murphy clan. It was her petty attempt at revenge and it backfired spectacularly when both Paul and I sat with mum. Even dad's colleagues were shocked and one leaned over to murmur in mum's ear.

"If it's any consolation, she's not got long to live either."

It was a prescient prediction because some thirteen months to the day, Granny Murphy died of a heart attack and with her death it was like a spring thaw as her children gradually awoke. Granted she hadn't had much influence over her youngest children, but the older ones were definitely under her thumb and even her widowed husband seemed relieved.

There was a lot more information that came out later but one thing was evident at the funeral, his girlfriend, Inga wasn't there and mum seemed surprised by that news.

"She was only there for three weeks," a former colleague told mum as we watched the coffin being loaded into the hearse, "apparently she couldn't stand the atmosphere and just walked out."

"Is she all right?"

"She's back with her parents last I heard," he fiddled with his cap, "one of the lucky ones."

It illustrates the depths of self deception. Dad had never mentioned that very important fact to either of us then perhaps someone could have been alerted. He kept everyone in the dark, including his own family as it turned out. At the graveside we were not even permitted near the coffin, mum just stood by with her hands on our shoulders as a piper played Amazing Grace and Granny Murphy sobbed as if her heart would break. Afterwards however as we walked to our car, she turned around to confront my mother.

"You did this to him, you bitch."

I saw mum's face harden and she opened her mouth to say something but then her oldest son, pulled her away.

"Enough already, come on," he glanced over his shoulder as he led his mother away and he almost smiled or so I thought at the time.

And with that I have to get ready for work, I will write more tonight.

***

Okay I'm back at home tonight although it was a late finish. I'm an arts teacher at college but twice a week I work part time at a hospital in the Palliative unit. All of my clients are nearing the end of their lives and as part of their care routine the hospital brings in people to teach the patients skills they wish they'd learned before. Some learn to play music, a large proportion write and others want to learn how to sketch. To be honest I would have done this free of charge but such is the high degree of social care here in Denmark that I get paid for it too.

Art was one of those subjects I gravitated towards not long after dad died and it was Birgit who saw that I had potential and went out and bought some pencils, pads and a couple of books. Over the last few months I'd laboured over countless drawings, some reasonably good and others had so many mistakes I threw them out at first. However, Birgit told me to keep them in a separate pile and look at them in twelve months time.

"It helps to show how far you've come," was her only explanation.

November and December were pretty stressful months for mum because in the aftermath of dad's suicide the Police Pension had been awarded to mum due to the fact that they were still married when he killed himself. It should have gone through with just a rubber stamp but then Granny Murphy waded into the fight with a court order demanding not just a portion but the whole lot as compensation for losing her son.

Mum saw red and Birgit made a phone call to a friend of hers out in Kallista, the next day was a Saturday and I came through to find a well dressed woman in a tan suit and cream blouse filling out forms for my mother to sign. She was introduced as Jenny, a solicitor specialising in civil law. Paul nearly had a heart attack when he came through and to be fair Jenny is an attractive woman, she looks to be about twenty five but she's actually closer to thirty five and when she eventually left Paul watched her walk down the driveway.

"She is so good looking, mum."

"Hey," mum locked her arm around his shoulders, "eyes off, she's my lawyer and old enough to be your mother, and besides, she kicks for the other team," she looked at him, "okay?"

"She's a lesbian?" Paul's face fell, "wow, I thought they all wore army boots."

"Some do but only if they want to make a statement."

***

Nevertheless, neither of them mentioned anything about their 'friendship' until the second week of December when it became obvious even to Paul that something was going on. Mum was spending more time alone with Birgit and her excuses didn't always seem to add up. She'd stopped claiming she was going over the road for a few drinks and instead it was to brush up on her computer skills, Birgit was quite the computer geek. Other times the excuses ranged from assembling furniture, learning Danish, something that could easily take place at our joint, or just simply needing time out. When Birgit came over to our place she always spent time with all of us but after we went to bed she'd sit up talking to mum while they watched telly or surfed the Internet.

It all came out one night when Paul twisted his ankle. He was fucking around with a basketball in the back yard one night when he landed badly and did his ankle in. I was inside when it happened and came out to find him sitting on the ground holding his foot and yelling loudly. Mum was over the road at Birgit's house, her excuse being that she needed to brush up on her Danish verbs. She actually said that!

I helped him inside and duly went over the road to fetch mum and because Sam was wagging his tail I went around the back to see him first instead of knocking on the front door. After I'd said hello I opened the back door and Sam scurried in past me and in an attempt to catch him, I followed him into the hallway and came to a dead stop.

Birgit had stepped out of her bedroom wearing just a white blouse, she looked at me as Sam came up to greet her and then nosed past her and into the bedroom and a moment later I heard mum's chuckle.

"Well hello there, who let you in?"

Birgit opened the door wider and mouthed something. Mum appeared a few moments later with a dressing gown and the two of them looked me up and down.

"I think it's time," mum squeezed Birgit's shoulder, "no need to look so shocked."

"It's Paul," I finally managed, "he's twisted his ankle, I came to get you."

"Oh," her eyes shifted, "I'd better get dressed then," she stepped back into the bedroom leaving me with a partially dressed Birgit and I didn't know where to look. Birgit adjusted her position slightly and folded her arms, she had an odd expression on her face, like she was unsure of herself.

"Are you and mum?" I left the question unfinished.

"We're," Birgit hesitated, "we've been going to tell you both, but we didn't know when. You've both been through so many changes that we didn't want to rock the boat too much."

"Are you in love with my mum?"

Birgit's eyes softened slightly and then she replied.

"I am in love with your mum. Is that okay?"

"I guess so," I pushed my glasses further up my nose, "she needs someone."

"She does need someone and so do I," Birgit glanced over as mum reappeared again, she was tucking her tee shirt into her trousers.

"I might not be back tonight," mum kissed Birgit, "he might have to go to emergency."

"I understand," Birgit replied, "let me know how it goes."

"You're not coming over to babysit?" I asked.

Birgit looked at mum and then me.

"You're not exactly a baby but," she paused, "I could come over."

"Good," I nodded, "I won't tell Paul but you should," I looked at mum and she nodded.

"Yeah, it's about time we outed ourselves but there are certain things we need to explain to the both of you," she stepped forward, "now let's see to your brother."

It was only when we were walking back across the road that I spoke to mum.

"How long has this been going on?"

"A few months," she folded her arms and bowed her head, "and we kind of thought about telling you then but then your dad died and that caused us to hold back. I mean as much as I love her, I can't risk hurting my children but eventually we knew it would come down to voluntarily outing ourselves or being caught out."

"So, you're what, suddenly gay?"

"I've always been bisexual," she replied, "I was with a few women before I met your dad but after that I kind of buried it. Your dad never knew about my past, I had enough problems over the years with Granny Murphy as it was without that kind of information getting out."

"But you love each other?"

"We do," she nudged me gently, "but if this bothers you then I will end it."

"End it?" I stopped at the end of our driveway, "no, you can't end it. Then Birgit will find someone else and we'll never see her."