Hello, My Name is May

by Rosalind Stopps

  Trevor looks at us to see if we understand. Jackie is crying a little but I’m not, I owe it to Trevor and Michael to put a brave face on things. As brave as I can, anyway. It’s a challenge to think of what I can do in response but I have to do something. I settle for a sad shrug and a bit of wobbly eye contact.

  Yes, he says, I know that shrug, thank you, May. And can we bloody move on now please, we don’t need another minute of maudlin. Do either of you lovely respectable ladies like a bet, now and again? Because I have here in my pocket just by chance, you understand, a pack of the finest Moomin playing cards, direct from Finland. And also, but let’s leave chance out of this one, I’ve practised hard, I happen to be a kind of genius, brilliant at poker. No excuses, May, it’s a game you can play with one hand.

  This day is getting better and better. Maybe there will be some sad news about Bill before bedtime.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  April 1978

  Pimlico

  At first May preferred the convalescent Alain to the original, despite his demands and his constant cigarettes. He was quiet but good company, someone to share the fun of Jenny with, someone to talk to. Wherever he’d been going to before, whoever he’d been seeing, it wasn’t happening any more. May tried to put Sue out of her mind. Alain was hers, it must have been a mistake. He stayed home and May was as happy as she could expect to be. There was hardly a trace of the usual anger, in fact Alain seemed to be more loving and grateful than she had ever seen him.

  ‘It’s as if some of the bad stuff has been beaten out of him,’ May wrote in a letter to Helen. ‘As if he’s come to his senses or something. Honestly, Helen, you wouldn’t recognise him.’

  It was only when May was alone at night, watching Jenny sleep, that she allowed herself to think of what might have been. Only then could she imagine how it might have felt to escape, to feel safe.

  Helen didn’t write back. She’d only written once since she went back to Hull while Alain was in hospital. She was sad about what had happened but pragmatic, and accepting of May’s decision to stay.

  ‘I get it, May, honestly I do, I understand why you feel the need to help him. He’s Jenny’s dad after all and I know you care about him. But this still isn’t normal, that’s all I can say. The way you live is horrible and you deserve better. You’d be OK on your own, May, I promise you would. You’re a strong woman. Anyway, enough of all that. You know what I think. In other news, Seb cries all the time, do you think he could be getting a tooth this early? And don’t forget, I’ve got a couch and a spare cot and you’re welcome here any time. Just turn up, that’s all, no need to book in advance. And if you’re worrying about Frank, well, I have seen him hanging around a couple of times but I’ve decided he’s harmless. If he was going to do anything he’d have done it by now.’

  That letter had arrived a couple of weeks ago now, and May hadn’t heard anything since. She’d tried to ring, but Helen’s new phone was either out of order or cut off. May reread the parts of the letter about Frank again and again, looking for clues. Maybe they’d made it up, she thought, and that was why Helen was too busy to call. May wished she could speak to her, make sure that she was OK, check with her own eyes and ears. The silence felt so strange. She wanted to talk to her friend, explain that things were better and then she wanted Helen to laugh in her face. She wanted Helen to say again that things weren’t normal, that she was fooling herself. She wanted the truth. She would need help if she was going to leave, she knew that. The big thing, the thing she had started to realise was, each day that Alain got better, she became a little more scared. Just tiny steps at first, nothing too glaring, but by the end of the third week she had no time to worry about Helen, and she no longer wanted to spend time with Alain chatting about Jenny. May needed every scrap of her concentration just to get through each day. It was as if the temperature had plummeted. Alain hobbled from room to room in the tiny flat like a caged bear.

  ‘God, your life is boring,’ Alain said.

  It was the first time he had got dressed properly since his accident, whatever that was. May still didn’t know and she didn’t dare to ask. Alain had told her that he didn’t want to talk about it right from the start, and May had not been brave enough to push things. Alain’s right arm and left leg were still in plaster so it had taken ages to get him dressed and May had had to cut some of his clothes to get them on him. His ribs were strapped up too, and he moved slowly and with great care. He lowered himself into the armchair as May knelt on the floor. She was setting up towers of plastic bricks for Jenny, and helping her to knock them down. She felt winded by the injustice.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, trying to keep her voice light. ‘Hey, don’t knock it till you’ve tried it, pardon the pun. Our Jenny is a great demolition girl, aren’t you, Jen?’

  ‘And where did the bricks come from?’ Alain said.

  May realised with a sinking heart where this was going.

  ‘Well, Helen gave them to her, you know that. Jenny loves those bricks more than anything.’ She hoped her voice wasn’t wobbling.

  ‘Helen gave them to her,’ Alain mocked in a ridiculous falsetto voice. ‘Helen, Helen, Helen.’

  May realised that Alain was between her and Jenny and the door. She tried to think clearly and rationally.

  ‘Would you like some of that dandelion coffee stuff?’ she asked.

  ‘I really wouldn’t,’ Alain said. ‘It tastes like shit, you know that and I know that. Complete shit. I’d like some of the proper stuff, the stuff you drank with Helen. I think I deserve that after what I’ve been through.’

  May built the tower again for Jenny, to give herself time to think.

  ‘You told me to hide it away, Alain, and never to tell you where it was, don’t you remember?’

  ‘Look,’ Alain said, ‘just because I go along with your nonsense and your insanity sometimes, it doesn’t mean I’m willing to all the time.’

  He spoke in a gentle voice, as if May was a child in his class struggling to get to grips with addition.

  ‘You’ve had your fun,’ he said, ‘made an idiot out of me for long enough, and now I’d like to get back to normal, please. I’d be very grateful if you and your big feet would go and make me a cup of coffee, while I play with my daughter. I’d do it myself, but I can’t.’

  Alain gestured towards his arm.

  May felt frozen to the spot. She didn’t want to leave Jenny with him, and she certainly didn’t want to run the risk of giving him any coffee.

  ‘I threw it away,’ she said. ‘I decided it would be too much of a temptation for me, having it in the house. I’ve been feeling so much more healthy since I’ve stopped drinking it. Some people think it might be bad for the baby as well, in the breastmilk, so I just don’t want to risk it. Sorry.’

  May bent to adjust Jenny’s cardigan. She felt sick with anxiety, not sure how he would react to what she’d said. She listened out for his breathing, often a sign. When he was really upset and going into a bad phase, he tended to pant a little, breathe through his mouth.

  Alain stood up, holding on to the mantelpiece to steady himself.

  ‘I’d like a cup of coffee,’ he said. ‘I’d like a cup of coffee and I’d like it now. I do not believe that you threw it away, so you’d better start thinking. I’ve had enough to put up with over the last few weeks, and it’s thanks to you that I’m in this state, so the least you can do is get me a cup of fucking coffee.’

  Alain’s voice rose on the last two words, and no longer sounded as though he was explaining something to a child. May crashed through the various stages of mounting terror as he spoke until she got to the end stage, the one where she was unable to think clearly. Think of the soldiers, she tried to tell herself. She had read an article about soldiers in Vietnam being revved up by speeches just like the one Alain had just given. Their officers would rant at them about how rubbish they were and accuse them of things they didn’t understand, like hating the American flag, until when they w
ere finally given the order to kill they didn’t question it.

  May stood up.

  ‘Hey,’ she said, ‘don’t order me around. I’m happy to get your coffee, if you’re sure you want it. I’m just trying to help, that’s all.’

  There was a silence as May went into the kitchen. Her hands were shaking so much it was hard to get the coffee down from the Christmas biscuit tin on top of the cupboard. She went through what Alain had said again and again in her head, and one thing stood out above everything. Don’t mention it, she thought, think of Jenny, don’t say anything, but before the thought had even been processed, May found herself calling out.

  ‘I’m making your coffee,’ she called. ‘I can see it’s very important to you so I’m doing it, but then Jenny and I are going out. She has an appointment at the baby clinic. But I need to ask, Al, why on earth is it my fault you’re in that state? What the hell did I do?’

  Stupid woman, she thought to herself as she poured the boiling water, stupid, silly, dangerous woman. Do you not realise how alone you are? Couldn’t you have kept quiet? No, the other part of her shouted, no I bloody well couldn’t, it’s not fair, how can I be blamed for his accident? I’ve been so kind to him while he’s been unwell.

  Alain appeared in the doorway of the tiny galley kitchen. Well done, May thought, you and your big mouth. Now you can’t get to Jenny and you’re stuck in two square feet with a lunatic and a boiling kettle. Nice.

  ‘So,’ said Alain, ‘finally you’re interested in what happened to me. What a wife. Three weeks, is it? Three weeks and a couple of days? And you’ve never asked?’

  ‘I did,’ said May, ‘of course I did, and you told me you’d been beaten up and you didn’t want to talk about it, so I haven’t said anything else.’

  She was stung with the unfairness of it. May would have liked to know every single thing, all the wheres, whys and hows, but she had left it because Alain had told her to.

  ‘Ah, but why, merry May, why was I out walking the dangerous streets of London at a time when everyone else was home with their families? I’ll tell you why. Because that fucking stupid woman was in my house, whispering in my wife’s ear, turning even my baby against me, that’s why.’

  Alain stood back as if he had scored a winning goal and was just waiting for May to recognise and acknowledge it.

  ‘But,’ May said, ‘but that’s ridiculous. You didn’t have to go out, Alain, you know you didn’t.’

  May knew she shouldn’t speak, knew she would make things worse, but she couldn’t help herself. She kept her back to the kettle so that Alain wouldn’t be able to reach it. He was wobbly on his crutches and she had to hope that would be enough for her to be able to get out. She had to say something to defend Helen, the only friend she had.

  ‘Helen was pleased to meet you,’ May said in a faltering voice.

  ‘Was she, merry May? Was she really?’ Alain produced a letter from his pocket with his good hand. May’s heart sank as she recognised the familiar handwriting. It was the letter Helen had written when she went back to Hull, the only one to have arrived in recent weeks.

  ‘Give that to me,’ May said, reaching out to make a grab for it. ‘That’s mine.’ May had hidden it in her underwear drawer, and she was angry with herself that she hadn’t realised that Alain had been in there looking for clues, or evidence, or whatever he might consider it to be.

  Alain wobbled a little and righted himself.

  ‘I’m going to read it to you,’ he said, ‘or bits of it anyway, I’m not so interested in that fat miserable baby and his teeth. I’m going to read it because her attitude towards me, which I could see right from the start, will explain how I came to be walking in east London, the dangerous part by the river, when I could have been at home with my family.’

  May tried to work out whether she would be able to get past him standing in the doorway, whether she could push him and barge through. On the one hand he was wobbly on his leg, which should make it easy, but on the other he was angry, and when he was angry he was even more unpredictable than usual. She stayed still.

  ‘Listen to this bit,’ Alain said, holding the letter aloft as if it was a scroll. ‘“This isn’t normal, that’s all I want to say, the way you live is horrible and you deserve better.” Who the hell does she think she fucking is? What’s so horrible about living with your loving husband? I’ll tell you why she said that, she’s jealous, that’s all. She can’t get a man, so she’s jealous that you have. She’s probably a lesbian.’

  ‘Oh Alain,’ said May. Keep quiet, her inner voice was screaming, don’t upset him, this is dangerous. She couldn’t listen to it. There wasn’t time. ‘Oh Alain, that’s a ridiculous thing to say. How could you use “lesbian” as a term of abuse? That’s not what you believe, I know it’s not. And she isn’t anyway, she’s just worried about me. I’m trying to help you, but you must realise as well that we don’t live like other people.’

  May wished she hadn’t said anything, had held her tongue and looked meekly at the floor. This was going to be a bad day, the sort of day they hadn’t had for a while. Maybe she could save the situation, she thought, maybe she could get to Jenny, wrap her in a shawl, get her out of the door and away, it wasn’t too cold outside. If they got out and stayed out it might give Alain time to calm down. As if Jenny was in league with her, May heard a small wail from the next room. Alain smiled, and May recognised the calculating look in his eyes.

  ‘So, merry May, do you want to show me how devoted you are to your daughter by defeating the scary one-legged monster so that you can swoop her up?’ Alain said.

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ May said, trying to sound confident and to put a no-nonsense approach into her speech, ‘you’re not one legged and you’re not a monster. I’m going to pick Jenny up, she doesn’t like being on the floor for too long. You’re going to let me through and we’ll all go on as normal.’

  As soon as she had said it, May knew that she had used the wrong word.

  ‘Normal?’ shouted Alain. ‘Normal? This isn’t normal, she says, Helen the bitch from Hull or hell, this isn’t fucking normal. What’s not normal about a married couple and a baby living together, huh?’

  Alain waved the letter in the air as if it was proving his point for him. He pushed May back towards the sink.

  ‘Get off me, Alain,’ May said, trying to keep her voice calm. ‘Get off me and let me go and get Jenny. Then we can all get on with our day. I’m sorry that Helen’s letter upset you but look, I haven’t gone to live with her, have I? I’m still here with you and we’re trying to work something out and it will all be alright but now please let me go to pick up Jenny.’

  One good push, she was thinking, one good push and he’ll fall over, he can’t balance on one leg and there isn’t enough room in the kitchen for him to angle his crutch for maximum stability. Come on, May, come on, just push him, punch him, whatever it takes.

  ‘Pah,’ said Alain suddenly, ‘do you think I’ve got nothing better to do with my time than grapple with a stupid fat bitch in a kitchen? This may be your idea of a good time, honey, but it’s sure not mine. I am fed up with getting caught and dragged into your head games, you twisted bitch.’

  May tried to translate what Alain had just said. It was possible that he was aware she would get the better of him if things turned any more physical, and so he was backing out, but it was never worthwhile to try to second guess him.

  ‘OK,’ May said, ‘let’s stop.’

  She tried to walk past Alain to the door to reach Jenny, but he held his crutch out to block her path.

  ‘Just fucking no. Stay here,’ he said.

  May stood where she was as he made his way into the living room, where Jenny was wailing sadly to herself.

  ‘You can’t pick her up safely, let me help,’ she said, but Alain slammed the door to the kitchen shut.

  May heard Jenny stop crying as Alain grabbed her with his one good arm, and then start again as he hobbled into her bedroom.
May heard the springs of the cot shift as Alain put her in, and then full-blown howling. Jenny still slept in their room with them, and her little bedroom wasn’t even ready. There was a mattress in the cot, but nothing much else, and Jenny had never spent more than a couple of minutes in there. May opened the kitchen door in time to see Alain shut and lock Jenny’s bedroom. He pocketed the key.

  ‘Would you like to come and get the key, merry May?’ he said, backing away across the room. ‘Listen, she’s crying, wouldn’t you like to be the big hero mummy and rescue her?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, Alain,’ May said, making an enormous effort to keep her voice level. ‘She’s just a little baby, she’s scared, and she’s hardly spent any time in that room. There aren’t any toys in the cot or anything.’

  ‘Ridiculous?’ Alain said. ‘My dearest, merriest May, who’s being ridiculous?’

  May noticed that Alain’s speech sounded slightly slurred, like the ghost of a cartoon drunk. She told herself not to be silly. His teeth at the front were crooked, that was all, and sometimes his words tripped over themselves, especially when he was upset.

  ‘Life is hard,’ Alain said, ‘and the sooner my daughter learns that the better. She’s got nothing to be scared of. I don’t want her ending up like you, frightened of her own shadow.’

  May had no idea what to do. Every path seemed fraught with difficulty. It was tempting to try physical force, but she found it very difficult. It could be conditioning, she thought, or it could be the fact that she was so very bad at anything physical. She couldn’t swim or drive or ride a bike, and she certainly had no idea how to start knocking out full grown men, even if they were injured. On the other hand, she could hear Jenny’s mounting terror at being shut in an unfamiliar place and she knew she had to act.