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Another Generation

Kerry Lown Whalen

    Tension sat in Fran’s gut. She had to phone her uncle and invite him to dinner on Saturday night. From her standpoint, the news she’d be forced to reveal wasn’t a cause for celebration. Her uncle picked up the phone after the third ring.
    “Uncle Bill. Hello. It’s Fran.”
    “Fran! It must be that time of year again.” He barked his familiar laugh. “I can always rely on you to remind me of my age. Just imagine – I’ll be seventy on Saturday.”
    “Yes. That’s why I’m ringing.”
    After he’d agreed to come at seven o’clock, she hung up the phone and sank into her recliner. Although she didn’t mind having to cook a special meal, she’d been fatigued lately and would rather sleep than sit around chatting at night. But now she’d committed herself and would have to rise to the occasion.
    While cooking dinner on Saturday night, Fran hummed along with her favourite Beethoven sonata. She lifted the baking dish from the oven and rested the loin of pork on a rack. She’d leave the potatoes and pumpkin to crisp in the oven while she made the gravy. Her mouth watered as the aroma of roast pork filled the kitchen.
    Thoughts about the past drifted around her head. Since her mother’s death nine years earlier, she’d prepared dinner every year for Uncle Bill’s birthday. Fran’s teenage sons had complained lately that their uncle belonged to another generation. He bored them. She knew what they meant.
    Her uncle’s usual three taps and a ring of the bell interrupted her reverie and summoned her to door.
    “Uncle Bill.” She looked him up and down. “You’re looking smart.” Leaning in to kiss him, she inhaled a whiff of aftershave. She couldn’t recall him wearing it before. Perhaps it was a birthday present.
    He held her at arm’s length. “You’re looking younger every year.”
    She stifled a groan. He was so predictable. So dull. The boys were right – he was a boring old codger.
    “For you.” He handed her the usual envelope of money for her to buy presents for the family throughout the year.
    “Thanks. It’s very generous.”
    “You’re welcome. You know I don’t remember birthdays anymore.” He grinned. “Not even my own.” She turned away from him, rolling her eyes. He said the same thing every year.
    “Derek and the boys aren’t here tonight. They’re at the Rugby game.”
    “Lucky them.” He followed her to the kitchen and watched as she lifted the vegetables from the oven.
    “Anything I can do to help?”
    “No thanks, Uncle. I just have to plate the food.”
    He perched on a high stool at the kitchen bench. “Mind if I open this bottle of red?”
    “Go ahead. There’s a glass on the table.”
    “Only one glass?”
    “Yes.”
    Without questioning why he was drinking alone, he poured the wine and raised his glass to her.
    
    While sitting with her uncle at the table, Fran felt pressure to entertain him. She wanted him to enjoy the evening, for the atmosphere to be festive before revealing her news.
    “What’ve you been up to?” She cut up a potato and forked it into her mouth.
    “Chasing up family history when I get a chance. And I play bridge every Wednesday.”
    “Ever catch up with your mates?”
    “Yep. We get together from time to time and talk about the old days.” He rested his cutlery and emptied his glass. “Mind if I have another?”
    “Feel free.”
    It was unusual for him to drink more than a glass or two. Perhaps he missed the company of Derek and the boys, and felt awkward sitting alone with her at the table.
    Although eager to make her disclosure, it would be better to do it later in the evening when her uncle was feeling mellow. She pushed back her chair and cleared away the plates.
    “I didn’t make apple pie tonight. I thought we’d have cheese and biscuits for a change.”
    “That’d be lovely.”
    “Coffee?”
    “I’ll just have wine, thanks. Can I get you anything?”
    “No. I’m off both wine and coffee.” Now was the opportunity to tell him. Her hands moved clumsily as she arranged three cheeses on a board and spread water-crackers alongside.
    “Help yourself.”
    He cut a generous slab of blue cheese. “I’m glad I’ve got you to myself tonight.” He poured another glass of wine and leaned back in his seat. “I sometimes feel uncomfortable talking about personal matters when the family is around. After all, they belong to another generation.” He swirled his wine. “There’s no easy way to tell you except to say that I lead an adventurous life.”
    What on earth could he mean? Fran leaned forward, eager to hear. “I’m intrigued. You can tell me. I can keep secrets.”
    He smiled. “I know. You’re the soul of discretion but I’d like you to tell the others.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Remember my neighbour, Teresita?”
    Fran nodded. “You introduced us. Over your side fence. She’s from the Philippines.”
    “Yes. When her husband left, I mowed her lawn and did odd jobs for her.”
    Where was this leading? Fran cut off a sliver of Brie and popped it into her mouth.
    “I did more than odd jobs though.” His eyes twinkled and a blush reddened his cheeks.
    Her eyes widened. “Such as?”
    “Teresita gave birth to my daughter in January. Her name is Lily.”
    Fran gasped. She’d never dreamt her aged uncle would ever be a father. What on earth was she supposed to say?
    “And where is Teresita now?”
    “In the Philippines. Lily is meeting her grandparents.” He sliced off a wedge of Cheddar. “I expect them back in a fortnight.”
    “Will they move in with you?”
    “Yes. I’d like you to meet Teresita. And tell me what you think.” His face lit up. “Perhaps I’m a silly old man, but I want to marry her.”
    Fran nodded. “It’s exciting news. Congratulations.” Somehow her uncle’s changed circumstances made him more interesting. “I’ll enjoying getting to know Teresita. And Lily.”
    “I haven’t told anyone.” He shrugged. “What are my mates going to say?”
    Fran chuckled. While she’d felt shock at her bachelor uncle’s news, she had no idea how his mates would react. Perhaps they’d be jealous. In comparison to his revelation, Fran’s news seemed insignificant. But it was the right time to reveal it.
    “It’s obvious we come from fertile stock, Uncle.” She took a deep breath. “I’m pregnant. At age 46.”
    Her uncle beamed and lurched from his seat to hug her. “That’s lovely, Fran. Marvellous.” He stood gazing at her. “Pregnancy is a wonderful thing.” He poured more wine. “Here’s to you and the baby.” He raised his glass. “I hope it’s a girl.”
    “Thanks.” While her uncle was delighted, she and Derek weren’t. “We don’t know how we’re going to make ends meet.” She sighed. “After taking maternity leave, we won’t be able to afford childcare.” She shook her head. “Another child wasn’t in our plans.”
    “I hadn’t planned to have a child either.” He grinned, pleasure creasing his face. “Don’t worry about childcare. I’m a dab hand with babies.” He looked around him. “I can mind the baby here or at my place with Teresita and Lily.”
    Fran gazed at her uncle, marvelling at the course of events. In an instant her uncle had changed from an irritant to her saviour.
    She considered his offer. “You’ll need to check if it’s okay with Teresita.”
    He patted her hand. “She’ll be glad to help. And at my age I’m a born father. Who would have guessed?”

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