Home for Christmas - Part V

"My husband and I have an open marriage. And it works. For us. I'm not saying it would work for everyone - but it works for us."

My mother was speaking to our two visitors when I entered father's study. Badger was eating a mince-pie; his companion was re-filling his sherry glass from the decanter on father's desk - next to the laptop!

Mother gave a start as I entered the room. "George, I thought you were having a nap.'
"Could I have a word, mother - in private." I requested, politely.
"If it's about Elsie, you can speak freely in front of these gentlemen, George - they are men of the world." She laughed, mischievously.
"It's not about Elsie, mother, but it is imperitive I speak with you."

Badger's companion (whose name I later learnt was Quinn) turned to me. "It wouldn't be about your father, George, would it?"
I felt my face going red. "No, it's... err... about the seating arrangements for dinner." Quinn stood up. My, he was such a tall man. "George, your father seems to have gone missing and we are concerned for his safety. You see, he hasn't taken his medication with him, and so the quicker we find him..."

My heart was beating fast. "He's in Thailand... on a fact finding mission. I thought Mr Badger would have known that." My words came out all in a rush - it's always the same when I'm nervous. Quinn sighed (unnecessessarily melodramatic, I thought). "All right son, go and speak with your mother. But think carefully about what I said."

Mother and I left the room. Outside the door she put a finger to her lips, and led me to the downstairs cloakroom. Once inside she turned on both washbasin taps. "Mother, what are you doing? You know there are people in Africa dying for lack of water. " I admonished.

"George, I think the house is bugged." Mother looked a little worried.
I was horrified. "What do you mean?"
"That man Quinn is a policeman - well a sort of a policeman. He's looking for your father."
"But I've just had a text from father, I -"
"Give me your phone!"
"But mother -"
"Give me the bloody phone!"
I handed it over. She took out the SIM card, wrapped it in a piece of toilet paper and flushed it down the lavatory. I was aghast." But mother, all my contacts were on that" I protested.
"Oh shut up, George," she replied, "I've got more to think about than your bloody contacts."

I felt this was an unreasonable attitude and - not for the first time - began to question whether parents were the best people to bring up children. Father was always distant (I don't mean in Thailand - which he wasn't, by the way) and mother was erractic in her relationship to me. To say she was unpredictable would be to understate her behaviour - Upon reflection, I think neurotic would be a better term. She  certainly suffered from mood swings - a condition I think I might have inherited.

But before I could remonstrate further with my mother, there came a knocking on the cloakroom door, and a voice called, "Open the door please". It was Quinn.