My name’s Jackie, she says, bunching some strands of her dreadlocks up on top of her head and looping them so that they stay there. What room number are you, Miss Proust Reader?
I hold up three fingers on my left hand, twice.
Thirty-three, she says, quick as a flash.
I mime a little clap. I’m still worrying about the stupid Proust thing. I try to be more normal.
May, I try to say, pointing at my chest. I don’t think she understands because she leans over to read the label on my wheelchair.
May, she says, lovely name.
I want to tell her I was born on the day the war ended.
Bye-bye, she says, is it OK if I pop round later? I’m getting tired, all this excitement, I need to go for a lie down.
She does look tired, too, bone tired. It happened quite suddenly. One minute she’s chatting away as if she shouldn’t really be in a place like this, the next she’s like one of those wind up record players when it’s wound down. Speaking more and more slowly. It’s excruciating to watch.
I make a shooing motion to show her that I want her to go back to her room. She looks old, suddenly, maybe even older than me.
Thank you, she says, as if I’ve given her something. Thank you, Miss Room 33 Proust lover.
I feel sorry for the stupidity of my lie. It’s not like I haven’t read other books, I could easily have talked about them instead if I wanted to show off. Or I could have asked her something about herself, that would have been even better. If she gives me another chance, I think, I’ll act like the perfect friend. I’ll act like someone that anyone would be proud to know.
Everyone is dispersing now, there’s a carer helping Jackie, offering an arm, and Agnita comes over to me.
Time to go, she says, shall I escort Madame to her room?
She’s smiling but I know she thinks I’m stuck up. It’s a thing people have always thought about me, Alain pointed it out first, only it’s worse now that I can’t talk. It makes everything I do more important than it needs to be, as though I’m always showing off. I try to think of a jokey way to show her I’m nice underneath. I don’t know why, but my filters seem to have rusted over so instead of sifting through what I might do and choosing, I do the first thing that comes into my head. I make a cap doffing movement with my good hand. Agnita doesn’t look amused.
I’m sure there’s no need for that, she says, I’m trying my best.
So am I, I think, so am I, only I don’t get to go home afterwards like you do. Maybe it’s not so good to fraternise, I think, maybe I was right first time, better to stay in my room and refuse to speak to anyone. Safer.
So she wheels me off, turning the chair round first so I’m facing the correct door. I hate it when they do that, suddenly turn you round without warning. It’s like being on one of those rides at the funfair, the ones that spin you round and round.
Oi, I say. It comes out well, so I can’t help being pleased, even though I hadn’t intended to say anything.
Oh, Agnita says, pardon me m’lady, I’m sure I didn’t mean any disrespect.
She doffs an imaginary cap too, in an exaggerated way. I can see her in the big mirror that hangs over the door. She doesn’t do it for me because she doesn’t realise that I can see her, that’s how I know it’s not a joke. She does it for the other staff and I can see quite a few of them giggling away as if it’s the funniest thing.
I’m embarrassed and sorry for myself. It’s a horrible feeling, being laughed at, and it doesn’t help to know that it’s quite justified. I’ll keep myself to myself from now on, I think, speak to no one and then no one has anything to poke fun at. Probably Jackie won’t want to be my friend anyway. I slump a little in my chair. It’s been a tiring morning, a mixed bag, and I just want to be back in my room.
Most of the others have left the dining room now. I’m still here because Agnita has stopped to talk to Sammy, one of the other carers. Sammy is pushing the poorly man, the one from the room opposite and they’re so engrossed in their conversation, Sammy and Agnita, that our chairs end up next to each other. Me and the poorly man, side by side like we are in a ski lift or commuting on the 7.19 train from the suburbs. I’ve still got my head down. I’ve had enough socialising for one day, and I think the best form of defence is to keep on slumping, talk to no one. He smells a bit funny. He smells of old man.
Hello, he says and it makes me jump.
He’s covered in blankets and nearly as slumped as I am. I wasn’t expecting him to talk. His voice is croaky, like he doesn’t use it much and it needs oiling.
I try to look as uninterested as I can. There’s something about him, I’m not sure what. Something that upsets me.
I think I’m in the room opposite you, he says in his rusty voice, we’re neighbours. I’ve been unwell but I’m getting better and I hope we can be friends.
It’s familiar to me, that voice, I almost recognise it. Best to keep quiet, I think, best not to say anything at all. There’s danger in him, I can smell it and I can hear it and I can see it. He might look like a poor old chap with his blankets and his white hands clasped on top of the blankets like a baby but I know something else about him, I’m not sure what yet but I know something, that’s for sure.
Drop by for a cuppa, he says, I don’t get many visitors.
I bet you don’t, I think. It’s so hard not being able to say anything, and I feel so odd and there’s something wrong and before I’ve thought it through I lean over the side of my wheelchair and mime spitting on the floor.
I suddenly realise Agnita is watching. There’s a shocked silence and then she says, May, that’s not kind, poor Bill, why don’t you say sorry to him?
She’s got a nasty streak, this one, Agnita says to the other carer, the one she was chatting to.
I know, says the other one, as if I couldn’t hear anything.
You want to watch her arm as well, someone says, she’s got a powerful left hook.
That’s not me, I think, I don’t recognise myself, that’s not fair, I’m not like that. It’s cruel, I can’t even defend myself. I hate being talked about as if I’m not here, and I hate unfairness and people being mean, and I start crying even though I don’t want to.
Oh, now we’ve got the crybaby act says Agnita, I think it’s Bill that should be crying, not you.
We normally get on OK, Agnita and I, she’s one of the nicer ones and this is too harsh, too unfair. I can feel the tears plopping down my face like a child and I wonder how long it would take me to die if I stopped eating anything at all. It’s then that he speaks, this Bill character, this poor old man who everyone seems to adore.
It’s OK, honestly, he says, leave her alone, she doesn’t mean it. Look we’re still pals, everything is fine. And he puts his pale old wrinkly old arm over towards me as if to shake hands.
Isn’t that sweet, Agnita says but I look up at him and because of the position of our wheelchairs, no one else can see him and he’s grinning, it’s not a good grin, it’s a grin that says hahaha got you now and I think I know that grin. I just need to concentrate, remember where from.
CHAPTER SIX
November 1977
Hull
May couldn’t imagine life before the weekly meetings with Helen. Helen understood her, accepted her for who she was.
‘I’m so glad to see you,’ May said on the third visit to the department store cafe. ‘I feel stronger now that I have you to talk to, less stupid. It’s because you’re in the same boat, or a similar boat or something, you know what I’m talking about. That’s it, I think; either that or the fact that you never pick me up on the stupid things I say.’
‘May,’ said Helen, ‘where’s all this talk of stupid coming from? You’re not stupid at all, and it’s a horrible word. I think you’re strong, and clever.’
‘Yes, and maybe that waiter over there is Lord Lucan,’ May said.
‘I suppose he does have a bit of a look about him,’ Helen said.
Both
women laughed uneasily.
‘A look of what?’ May said. ‘A look that he could have murdered his nanny, tried to murder his wife? Is it that easy to see?’
Helen stared into her tea.
‘Aren’t most men capable of it, if they’re pushed, I mean?’ she said.
‘No!’ May said. ‘Certainly not my Alain, anyway. Do you know, he can’t even bear to hurt wasps, he collects them in a glass or a jar and puts them outside, he doesn’t like killing anything at all.’
Helen didn’t say anything, and May could see there was something wrong.
‘Never mind Lord Lucan,’ she said, ‘there’s something wrong, I can see it, and I’m here if you want to talk.’
May felt like the most useless friend ever. She had hoped that she could talk to Helen today about the terrible business with the Welsh Film Board, but she could see that Helen had her own demons, and she should have realised that more quickly. Alain’s right, May thought, I’m rubbish at empathising. I have Alain at home, and Helen hasn’t got anyone, and I’m still putting myself first.
‘It’s probably nothing,’ Helen said, ‘and I hope it’s OK for me to go on about it, but I’m worried. I think Frank has been hanging around. My ex, daddy dearest. I haven’t actually seen him, but, oh, I don’t know, it could be my hormonal brain playing tricks on me, I’m not sure. Only there seem to be little clues all the time, tiny things. So small that I’m never sure if I’m just imagining them. Flyers in the hallway of my flats, for a pizza place we went to together. But thousands of flyers, and yes, they could have been dumped, before you say it. But it’s a coincidence, you have to admit. And there’s also the flat itself.’
‘What?’ said May. ‘Has he got into the flat? Surely not, Helen, oh no. How? What do you mean?’
‘It’s honestly probably nothing,’ Helen said, ‘and I’ll scare both of us if I keep going on about it.’
‘Don’t worry about me,’ said May, ‘I’m not the one who has to live with it. It’s you I’m worried about. And, for the record, I’ve always been a scaredy cat, my mum used to say I was frightened of my own shadow. You’re much braver than me, honestly.’
May shifted in her chair. The truth was, the idea of her brave, strong friend Helen being terrified was terrifying all by itself, whatever the reason.
‘It would be great to talk it through,’ said Helen, ‘because the thing is, I might be wrong, it might be my imagination playing tricks on me, I don’t know. All I know is, I’ve got a strong feeling, a really strong feeling, that Frank has been in the flat. More than a head feeling, it’s a sort of gut feeling. Sometimes I think he leaves these stupid clues. One dead flower in the middle of the table, the book I’ve been reading moved from the side of my bed and put back on the bookcase, or once, in the fridge. That kind of silly stuff.’
‘But that could be something you’ve done and then forgotten, you know, pregnancy amnesia, that kind of thing. I left my purse on my pillow a couple of days ago, then went out to buy milk.’
‘I thought that too,’ said Helen, ‘right up until the dead flower. That was yesterday. It was a red rose. May, you either have roses in your home or you don’t, and I didn’t, there was nowhere it could have come from.’
‘How could he get in?’ May asked. ‘And are you sure, about the rose, that you hadn’t had some and forgotten to throw them away or something?’
‘I didn’t have a rose in the place, I’m sure of it. And I’ve been thinking about how he could have got in, when he’d given me back his key. In fact I’ve been thinking about little else. I’ve got a vague memory of getting a new one cut for him, months ago when I was first pregnant. He’d lost his. Now I’m thinking, either that was a big fat lie and he never really lost it, or maybe he’s found it again. Either way, it doesn’t really matter, I’m in trouble.’
‘Oh Helen, that’s terrible, I’m so sorry. You could come to mine, only…’
‘Hey,’ said Helen, ‘that’s fine, I didn’t mean that, I hadn’t even thought of it. You’re living in a shared house with a baby due any day, I didn’t mean that. I could still be wrong, anyway.’
‘Where will you go, if he turns up again?’
‘I’ll go to that hostel for battered wives, the one in the town centre. I went there the other day and spoke to someone. I’ll be fine, don’t worry. Let’s talk about something else, this is creeping me out. What’s new for you?’
‘Ha,’ said May, ‘there’s only one story in my particular town.’
‘Let me guess, does it begin with Welsh and end with Board?’
May laughed despite her anxiety.
‘How do you do that?’ she said. ‘How do you make me laugh even when I’m worried? It’s a gift. You should market it.’
‘I could be a comedian,’ Helen said. ‘Can women be comedians?’
‘They bloody well ought to be. OK, I’ll tell you what happened, at the risk of ruining the moment. The police called round last week, and apparently it’s a crime, writing a cheque when you know you have no money in the bank. It’s called, obtaining pecuniary advantage by deceptive means.’
May shuddered as she remembered it. There had been two policemen, just like in the movies, and they both seemed impossibly huge. One of them had been kinder than the other. He seemed embarrassed that they had to go through the whole sorry process, charging her, arranging an appointment for her to come to the station, all that. The other one seemed to revel in it.
‘Have you got a husband?’ he asked. ‘Only if my missus was out running up bills she couldn’t pay when she was up the duff I’d have something to say.’
He’s out, May had thought. He’s out like he always is when I need him, and what’s more I’m glad he’s out because I couldn’t cope with him being here. They didn’t stay long, the policemen, just long enough to make May feel as though the whole house had been contaminated.
‘I guess that little one in there,’ the smug policeman said, pointing to May’s stomach, ‘that little sprog will put an end to your shenanigans. Either that or you’ll train him to pick pockets.’
They both found this hilarious, but May felt angry enough to break walls with her bare hands. She wished that she could explain to Helen how odd her life had become.
‘But the Welsh Film Board,’ Helen said. ‘Did you show them the letter that said they would reimburse you if you stayed in any hotel in Bangor? Surely that changes things?’
‘I’m afraid not. I can’t find it. I’ve looked everywhere. I was sure I put it in my tray on my dressing table. I’m quite organised about stuff like that, you have to be if you live in a shared house. Alain says I probably threw it away, you know, in a forgetful pregnancy moment, but I didn’t, I’m sure of it.’
‘I believe you,’ said Helen. ‘So what happened next?’
‘Well I told them about the letter, obviously I did, but they just laughed and said a crime was a crime was a crime and that I had to have an official caution. Helen, it was terrible, I had to go to the police station for it and everyone was looking at me.’
‘Did you go on your own?’
May nodded.
‘You’re bonkers, I would have come with you. And Alain, why wasn’t he there?’
May flushed. ‘He really doesn’t cope well with the police,’ she said. ‘Honestly, I can see the way you’re looking at me but it’s true, he’s quite sensitive.’
Helen snorted. ‘And you?’ she said. ‘Aren’t you a bit sensitive too? Did you even tell him, May?’
May hadn’t told him, but she could see now how stupid that seemed.
‘I’m going to,’ she said, ‘I’m definitely going to but I’ve got to wait for the right moment.’
My life has turned into a series of ‘waiting for the right moments’, she thought.
‘Alain is quite, erm, stressed at the moment. He’s finding it hard, all this waiting for the baby and not having a job that he thought he had and all that.’
May had thought that Helen might dismi
ss her worries but she seemed to understand straight away. She looked at May, really looked at her, and May squirmed, unable to meet Helen’s eyes.
‘Hey, it’s not your fault. I know what you’re going through, honestly.’
But mine isn’t a complete baddy like yours, May thought. Mine can knit, mine can sing, mine can talk about poetry.
‘I’m not saying Alain is as bad as Frank, not at all,’ Helen said, as if she could read May’s thoughts, ‘but I can see that you’re not at ease, May, that’s the thing. You’re not comfortable, or relaxed, and I’m still old-fashioned enough to think that those are things women ought to be, when they’re, what’s the common term for our condition?’
‘Up the duff,’ May said, thinking of the policeman, and the speckles of white foam at the corners of his mouth.
‘Let’s drink to that,’ Helen said and they clinked their teacups.
May wanted to change tack, talk about Helen’s problems. She felt that she had monopolised the conversation and she wanted to make absolutely sure that her friend was safe, but a sudden fierce cramping pain made her unable to think about anything else. This can’t be it, May thought, not here in Binns cafe with my friend. It felt like a stomach cramp, as though she had eaten something bad.
‘Helen,’ she said, ‘I think there’s something wrong. My stomach. It really hurts.’
Helen put her hand on May’s.
‘Do you think you might be having a baby?’ she asked, and as May looked up she saw the twinkle in her friend’s eye.
No, May thought, no, this isn’t how I planned it. I’ve got no idea where Alain is.
‘I can’t start without Alain,’ she said.
Helen laughed. ‘Did anyone ever explain to you that giving birth is not like having a meal in a restaurant? You can’t book it for a convenient time. Hang on here and I’ll go to the phone box across the road in the station and ring the hospital, nothing will happen for a while, trust me, I’ve read every book there is. I’ll come with you, if you’d like.’
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