Page 18 of Road Trip to the Riviera
‘But people do not always drink the cider. They spit!’ She mimes a spitting motion and for a moment I think she’s going to hack up a loogy onto one of his shoes. ‘I put out a bowl for you.’
Ha. HA! So I was right! But it’s a little late now.
‘Oh,’ Hal says. ‘Shit.’
‘Well,’ she says with an exasperated sigh. ‘You will have to stay here. I cannot let you drive in this condition. I will speak to my father.’
As if her words have summoned him, the overalled man appears in the doorway. Princesse is at his feet and when Hal sees the dog, he visibly stiffens.
‘Papa,’ Adèle says in a sharp tone, following with a torrent of French that wouldn’t have made any sense to me even if I had been sober. Which I’m beginning to realise more and more isnotthe case.
He begins to wave his arms, his face turning an almost alarming shade of red, and fires back what sounds like several angry sentences. I recognise the words ‘étranger’ (foreigner), ‘alcool’ (alcohol), and what sounds like ‘fou’ (crazy), then give up trying to follow the spiel. There’s something nice in relinquishing that. Let the grown-ups sort it out.
In fact, I feel a little wobbly and hobble my way over to Betty who remains unlocked, opening the door and sinking into my seat gratefully.
I close my eyes and feel the world spinning slightly as the voices outside rise and fall, only opening them a few minutes on when the driver’s door slams.
Hal is sitting next to me, his face ashen. Across the courtyard I can see Adèle and her father walking into the house. The door closes firmly behind them.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he tells me, hitting his palms on the wheel. ‘I am such an idiot.’
‘What’s going on?’
‘Oh, we can stay. But we’re not to enter the house. No toilet, no shower, no proper cooking. We’re basically stuck.’
It strikes me that these would pretty much have been the conditions we’d have faced had we made it back to the campsite, but that would be letting Hal off the hook. Because he was pretty stupid, thoughtless. And this is entirely on brand.
‘Great,’ I say.
‘Sorry,’ he replies, a slight slurring in his words causing a flash of annoyance in me, despite the fact I am probably slurring too.
‘Yeah, well, this is just typical Hal,’ I tell him. ‘You don’t think things through. You just go through life, without planning. Meandering. Letting things happen. But you don’t realise that your actions affect other people too!’
‘What do you mean?’ He seems utterly incredulous.
‘Well, with Louis for example. Did you ever think to ask me if I needed a hand with the ordinary stuff? The dentist appointments, the shoe shopping, the parents’ evenings… That kind of thing? No. You just knew that I would pick up the slack and you let me, time and time again!’
This isn’t entirely fair, but I am not entirely sober. I am more than a little bit drunk on a heady concoction of codeine and cider.
Hal’s nostrils flare. ‘I would have done all of that. You only had to ask.’
This, unfortunately for Hal, is like a red flag to a bull. ‘I only had to ask! You’re his parent too! What, do you think he didn’t ever need dental care, or an education or, I don’t know, to get his feet measured? The point is, Hal, I shouldn’t have had to ask. You should have worked that out for yourself!’
‘Yes, but?—’
‘But nothing. I know you stumped up the cash. I know you were a present dad, at weekends at least. But you weren’t aparent. You weren’t a partner in raising him. Not in the real business of raising him. That was me. That wasall me!’ I notice a little fleck of spit sail out of my mouth at these words and instantly wish I could retrieve both it and the things I’ve said. Yes, I do hold on to some resentment from the past. But I was just a kid.Hewas just a kid. I wouldn’t have had a clue how to pre-empt the needs of a small child if I hadn’t been living with Louis day in, day out, with a mother to point out exactly what I was getting wrong if I so much as left a soiled nappy on for a little too long. How was Hal meant to know?
He’s looking at me, mouth open. ‘You think I was a bad father?’
I take a breath. Remind myself that we’ve got ten more days together at least.
‘Oh, I don’t know. I don’t think most people are bad or good parents,’ I say. ‘Obviously there areverybad parents. They’re easy to identify. The rest of us, we’re just making it up as we go along. I just wish you’d been… I don’t know. Maybe it’s not you at all. I just wish it had been easier, that raising Louis hadn’t meant… well, giving up on my own life.’
‘You’re a lawyer. You have your own practice. You…’
‘Yeah, looks good on paper, doesn’t it?’ I am now willing myself to shut up. I just can’t see to stop my mouth flapping and the words coming out.
‘You’re not… happy?’
