Skinner’s round

Twenty-eight

‘Honest to God, Skinner, look at you. Forty-five years old and nervous as a kitten. Where's the man I married? What happened to the father of this child?' She stood in the doorway, leaning against the jamb.

Jazz was curled in the crook of her arm, smiling. Approaching four months old, he held his head upright. His experiments with sound were growing more inventive by the day, and now he babbled out a string of sounds, as if mimicking his mother.

Bob threw him a mock glare. 'You can wind your neck in for a start, boy. One piss-taker in this family's quite enough.

And you madam, should be enough of a golfer to understand what it's like to be about to tee off with Darren Atkinson with people watching. Knocking a few balls down the practice range is one thing, but this is public play, on a nice day, with hundreds, maybe thousands of people in the gallery.

`This isn't going to be like teeing off in the Friday evening bounce game in front of Craig, or Bobby, or Ken or Eric.' He slipped on his blazer, over a fresh white shirt.

She laughed. 'Well, just imagine that's who is watching you. Look, what's the worst that could happen?'

He pondered her question. 'I suppose the worst case would be if Norton Wales out-drove me.

Mind you, I'd back Jazz to knock it further than Norton!' He took his son and raised him tip high towards the ceiling, tickling him with his thumbs. The baby grinned and chortled.

`Careful, Bob, he's just had a feed.'

`You wouldn't barf on your dad, would you, son? Any more than your sister did in her time.'

All the same, he handed Jazz carefully back to his mother, smiling.

`You know, my love, you've never looked more beautiful than you do now standing there, son on hip, all eyes, lips and suntan. Christ, if I wasn't going to golf.'

She grinned back at him. 'Yeah, too bad. I'll tell you something, copper, just between the three of us. I'm happier now than I've ever been in my life, happier in fact than I've ever imagined being. Going back to work'll be a lot tougher than I'd thought.'

`Then don't,' he said at once. 'Tell the University you've had second thoughts about the job. A lot of women need to work to sustain a lifestyle. You don't. We own all our properties, and I've got extra income from my legacy investments. And, you're right, we don't need both this house and the Edinburgh place. We want Jazz to go to school here anyway, don't we?

`So tell the University "Sorry, I made a mistake." Stay at home and enjoy being a full-time mother, for a few years at least!'

His sudden vehemence astonished her. 'Hey honey, is this Pre-match tension or something?

What brought all this on?'

He shrugged his shoulders. 'I don't know. I suppose I've been going along with the University thing because I know that a Chair at your age is an honour, but most of all because I thought it was what you really wanted.

`Now, if you say it isn't, then there's no question. Let it go, and stay here with Jazz. Nothing would make me happier.'

She took his hand and looked him in the eye. 'Slow down, big Bob, and listen to what I said.

Going back to work is going to be tougher than I thought, especially in the first few months, but it's still what I want to do. I'm your wife and Jazz's mother, but I'm more than that. I'm me as well.

It was me you fell in love with, not Jazz's mom. You're right, I don't have to go back to work. But it's part of being me, and if I throw it away, a big part of me will go with it. I'll change, I'll become someone else, someone different from the woman you fell in love with.

OK, you might love her too, but maybe not as much… or maybe not at all. I ain't going to take that chance.

`Mellow motherhood may have its hooks in me for now, but they'd loosen sooner than you think.'

He stared at her, with a strange, almost pleading expression that she had never seen before.

'OK I hear that, but surely a year wouldn't hurt. Defer the job till next session. Do that at least for me, and for him!'

She smiled gently. 'Darling, it's for both of you that I'm going back to work.

The decision's made, I've given my word, and the students are enrolling. Now, put all this out of your mind. Get down to Witches' Hill and knock that first tee-shot way past Norton Wales!'