Power Strike

 Reedsy Writing Contest #207 - Lights Out

                                              Power Strike by Josephine Nolan

“Go on Tom.  They’ve been nagging you for weeks. Before we know it, the kids will be back at school”.

I bet he was thinking “why me?”  He never really liked camping. He quickly came back with “Why don’t you do it then, if you’re so keen”.

My mother was coming for a few days. There was no way she would be camping out, even if we were enjoying an Indian Summer. She liked her creature comforts. My mother was always making suggestions that we could do this or that to improve the house. Having moved into our old Victorian home five years ago, our struggle to renovate was showing results, we thought so anyway. It was our daughter Jill’s first birthday when we signed the contract and got the keys, shortly before Linda started school. It did take a lot of sacrifices, blood sweat and tears you might say, to get it to this level of comfort.  Regardless of what my mother said, it was comfortable, and we loved our home. 

The summer had been exceptional. We were used to the Irish climate of rain, and more rain. Summers when we wished the months away in anticipation of the summer we hoped for. This year, the sun started to shine in June. Apart from a few showers, needed to keep the grass green, it was unbelievable weather. We concentrated on shaping the garden. Tom had filled a skip with the old rambling bushes and debris that were present when we first arrived. It was a lovely space now, with borders of colourful perennials and summer bedding on one side of the garden. There was an apple tree in one corner and an oak tree in another. Tom had erected a swing for the girls, and we bought them a trampoline. In the evenings we could sit outside when the girls were in bed. A bottle of vino was a treat, and we deserved it.

My mother arrived on the Tuesday, looking prim and proper as she always did, her hair coiled up in a French pleat. She told us she was staying until next Tuesday. That was her way of saying ‘you’ve got a week, make the most of having me’. To be fair, my mother was easy going in her own way. She loved our two girls and made a real fuss of them when she came to visit. They loved having her to stay, having someone to read to them, who spent time sitting at the table with them, while they painted or used their crayons. She gave them her undivided attention, more than I could, to be honest. We spent time at the beach, walked in the park, but it was when we got home that the children were in their elements. Granny never said, “in a minute” or “not now”. She gave them her time with love and without reservation.

My mother was horrified at the thought of the children and Tom sleeping in a tent on Friday night. We had just finished lunch on the patio. Tom was trying to put the tent up in the middle of the garden. It was hard to keep a straight face as he tried to blow the tent up with a bicycle pump. 

“You can do it, Tom” I called out, with a smirk on my face.

“You come and do it then” he said. His face was as red as the Dahlias, as he huffed and puffed. Poor Tom, he would do anything to please his daughters. It wasn’t going to be an easy sleep for him hunched up in the tent, but he wouldn’t disappoint the girls. At last the tent was up.  The ground sheet was laid down.

“Can we bring our own pillows and duvets?” my youngest asked. 

“Of course,” I said.

 “Can I wear my onesie” the eldest daughter wanted to know. 

“Wear what you like” I said. “It’s a pity dad won’t wear one”. 

“A fine sight he’d look in a onesie” my mother said with a snort.

“Make sure you eat enough” I said to the girls when we sat down to dinner. “It will be a long night if you’re stomach starts rumbling”. 

“We can bring some treats with us?” said Linda.

Jill joined in with “and drinks”.

“There isn’t room, and anyway, I don’t want food and drink all over the tent” Tom said. 

“What if we get hungry during the night” Jill said, putting on a pout.  

“Tough” dad said. 

“Ok, its nine-thirty. Time you were sleeping”, I said, stretching my back.  

“Is daddy coming too”, asked Linda.

“Of course, he is”, I said trying not look too pleased.

It didn’t take long to make sure they were settled in their tent.  The girls snuggled up together. They looked a picture.  I always got a warm feeling of love when I watched them sleeping. Tom let them settle before he went out to join them.

My mother and I had been watching television for a few hours when she said,

“Maybe we should retire for the night love”. 

“You go up mum, I’ll just check on how the campers are doing”.

When I opened the back door, the warm evening air hit me in the face, reminding me of the continental holidays we used to enjoy when we were single. I crept over the grass to the tent. I could see a light inside. When I opened the flap, the girls were side by side, dead to the world. Tom had a torch and had a book up to his face. I tried not to laugh. 

“Are you alright there, Tom?” 

“What do you think?” he whispered. “Are you going to take a turn?”. 

I blew him a kiss and closed over the flap. “Ah, I thought “the things you do for love”. 

The smile soon left my face when I entered the kitchen and it was pitch black. I tried the switch, then made my way into the hall. The front room switch didn’t work either. I found my way upstairs and tapped on my mother’s room. There was no reply. I peeked inside. As quiet as I could, I tried her switch. It didn’t work. Mum sometimes got up to go to the bathroom during the night. She might fall if her room was in darkness. Should I wake her? The last thing I needed was mum falling and hurting herself during the night.

There was only one thing for it. I would get in beside her. Being a light sleeper, I would wake up as soon as mum moved. I changed into my pyjamas and crept into the bed. She didn’t stir. Mum snored. I didn’t know that. I lay there listening to the rhythm of the snore, waiting for it to finish, before it started again. It felt like hours before I finally fell asleep. 

Someone was hitting me over the head with a pillow. My arms were going up to protect myself. Am I dreaming? 

“Get out of my bed” she was shouting at me. 

The room was lit up only by a shard of light coming through the curtains. It took me a minute to recognise where I was. Mum was shouting at the top of her voice. She looked like a banshee with her hair falling onto her shoulders. She continued to hit me with the pillow. Then the realisation hit me.

 “Mum” I said. “Stop it.  It’s me”.  

“You silly girl, what are you doing in my bed?” 

The door opened, and I could see the outline of Tom in the doorframe. “What the hell is going on?” he said. His face white in the dim light.

“I thought you were being attacked”. 

“I was” I said, “until I got my wits about me”. 

“What’s wrong with the lights” Tom asked, flicking the switch.

It must have been about three in the morning. The sun was rising, casting its light into our small kitchen. The sound of the kettle whistling on the gas stove was comforting. I made tea for Tom and my mother, explaining why I ended up in mum’s bed. I found a bunch of candles under the sink. Tom stuck one into an empty wine bottle and placed it in the middle of the table. It soon gave a cosy light across the room. 

“I won’t be the better of this all day”, Tom said. “I honestly thought there was an intruder in the house”. 

“You won’t be the better of it, Tom Robson?” My mother said. “It’s a wonder I didn’t have a heart attack. Honestly Judy, what were you thinking of?” 

There was no answer to that. The hours passed. Mum went back to bed. Tom and I sat talking for a while before going into the front room to sit in the armchairs. 

“I’d better go back to the girls” Tom said, but he didn’t move. I must have nodded off. “Where’s Daddy?” a little voice said beside me. 

Then she turned and saw her father. She tugged at his arm. 

“You cheated. You were supposed to sleep in the tent”.

Tom felt the tug and opened his eyes. He lifted Jill onto his lap. 

“It was a funny night Jilly” he said. “Is Linda awake?”. 

“No, she’s asleep”. 

I got up and walked out to the garden. As I pulled back the flap of the tent, Linda opened her eyes. “Where’s Jill” she asked. I put my arms out and she came towards me. “You must be starving, love. Daddy and Jill are inside. I was just about to make breakfast”.

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