by S. L. Lim
‘Yes, but not everything in life has to be nuclear fusion. They do some useful things for the school community.’
‘What, like holding fundraisers that are totally pointless? Walkathon for a new school hall? Pink luncheon for breast cancer?’
‘Against breast cancer, I think you’ll find. And how is that a waste of money? One of my high school friends died of it.’
‘You are so totally innocent, Auntie Yannie! Like, most of the money goes on advertising! All those pink ribbons and other crap – it’s a total racket.’ But then Kat laughed. ‘Nah, I know, I know, you’re probably right, as usual. Although these P and C mothers are still the worst, you have to admit. Anyway, I did understand the book a lot better after we talked it through. I might even read another one by her, if I have time. But not for ages, ’cos when you study a book, it kills it in your mind for a while, you know? I kind of think that all English teachers must really hate reading those novels. It’s like how professional chefs hate cooking. They go home and eat porridge every night.’ Yannie laughed. ‘That’s what I like about you, Auntie Yannie, you think that I’m funny. Mum never does. I can tell she’s trying, but she doesn’t. She just doesn’t get it.’
‘I think she gets it better than you know. She is worried about you, that’s all.’
‘She totally shouldn’t be. I mean, I’m not her, you know. I actually have a brain, plus an imagination.’
‘That’s very cruel, Kat. Your mother is intelligent. She used to be a lawyer. And she’s funny, too, in her own way – I enjoy spending time with her. Of course she has an imagination.’
‘Yeah – in the process of atrophying from never being used.’ Kat rolled over onto her belly. ‘Oh well, I guess I shouldn’t blame her. I guess I should be grateful she still has the energy to think about anything apart from, you know, making breakfast and stuff. After all these years having to put up with my dad.’
‘I’ll refrain from comment.’ Kat had been fishing around lately, dropping hints to try and work out Yannie’s attitude towards Shan. ‘How do you feel about your father, Kat? I know very well that you don’t get on with your mother.’
‘My dad? My dad is a fucking psychopath.’ Kat rolled her eyes. ‘I mean, get real, we all know that it’s true. Anyone can work it out after, like, ten seconds in this house.’
‘I think that’s an exaggeration. It might take a little longer than that. Anyway, I didn’t know you felt so strongly.’
‘Well, I do. Oh man, I hope I never marry someone like that.’ Kat sat up and crossed her legs. She glanced at her nails, which gleamed with purple shellac, already starting to flake off. ‘I mean, I really, really hate it. I hate seeing them together, even when things are really good. It makes me sick. He treats her like a punching bag sometimes. Other times, she’s his security blanket.’
Yannie looked up sharply. ‘Has your father ever hit your mother?’
‘No, of course he hasn’t! That’s what makes it so hard to explain. Like, why it’s so shit to live with him. You have to hang around a while before you really see it. When I turn eighteen, I am so getting out of here. I can totally get a job. Or else I can go on Youth Allowance. I don’t want to have anything to do with their money.’
‘You need to be careful, you know, when you’re making these plans. It’s harder than you think.’ Like a babe in the woods, she thought. A babe in a field of unexploded ordnance.
‘Oh, blah, blah, blah – that’s what they always say! They’re always on about how I can’t do this or that. It’s like I’m some captive-bred dolphin, or something, who can’t survive in the wild. It’s fucking insulting. I really hate it, actually.’
‘Kat, don’t swear so much.’
‘Why have you just started to care about that now?’ Kat asked reasonably. Yannie had to admit she had a point. ‘I mean, I’m kind of terrified, ’cos what if it’s inherited, you know? Being boring and co-dependent. I could totally end up like her. The worst thing is, I don’t even think she’s unhappy. She acts like she’s completely fine with it. Like, she seems way happier than you.’
Once again, Yannie had to admit Kat had a point.
‘But that’s what’s so scary about it. It’s like being a dead person walking. You just have to ask, is that really all you want from life? Like, from Mum’s perspective. I mean, why doesn’t she just leave?’
‘Kat, that is a very idealistic view. What would she live off? She isn’t young and just starting out the way you are. She’s been out of the workforce for many years. And she has you to think of. She wouldn’t want to disrupt your education.’
‘But she used to have a job! Like, a really high-powered one! I mean, she talks about it enough. And no, I don’t reckon that it’s only for my sake. I think that’s just an excuse. I wouldn’t even mind that much if we had to move out of this house. I’m almost an adult, anyway.’
‘You think that now, but it’s not that simple. Look, don’t be so judgemental of your mother. I don’t think what she does, looking after you, is just a waste of time. Really, it’s a very noble thing to spend your life taking care of a family, as opposed to doing something that gets you praise from the outside world.’
‘Huh. Yeah. That’s what my dad always says.’ Kat screwed up her nose. ‘I’ll believe it when I see him doing it.’
‘Yes, but it’s not just him who says it. You studied Middlemarch, didn’t you? Remember that bit at the end?’ Yannie strained to remember the quote and to deliver it without putting on a faux BBC British accent. “Our lives are better because of kind, unfamous people who spend their lives doing good without being recognised for it, who end up being buried in unmarked tombs.” That’s not exactly it but it’s the gist, as I remember.’
‘Ah, George Eliot. That stupid hypocrite. She has a rock in Poets’ fucking Corner.’
‘Kat, stop swearing!’ Yannie sighed. ‘Anyway, your mother loves you and it makes her happy to take care of you. Or at least to do things which make her think she’s taking care of you. Also, she loves your father.’
Kat closed her eyes. ‘Eurgh,’ she said at last. ‘I know she does.’
‘Do you love him?’
‘Mm … yeah, I guess I do. I guess it’s a genetic thing. I mean, he’s still my dad. It’s not as if I have a choice.’
‘What would you do if you couldn’t live with your parents anymore?’
‘I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it at all. I mean, not to sound callous, of course I’d be sad, but I think I could handle it if they got hit by a truck, or whatever. I know that I sound like a real bitch, but … I mean, I care about them both a lot, especially Mum. It’s just that they’re not the most important thing for me. There are other things … like, I think I could manage pretty well without them.’
‘Interesting. Do you have a boyfriend?’
‘No.’ It was a seriously scathing syllable. ‘Do you really think that’s what I’m talking about?’
‘OK, OK, I’m sorry. So if not your parents, and there’s no boyfriend in the picture, what for you is the most important?’
‘We-ell …’ Kat seemed both nervous and defiant. She drew her arms around her knees. ‘Not that you probably care, but, well … probably my drawing. My pictures, and stuff. Still, I already know what you think of my artistic talents.’ She said this very clearly and with pre-emptive irony, as if daring Yannie to make fun of it.
‘I’m very sorry for what I said the other day about your work. I didn’t mean to show my ignorance about what you do. I just don’t have knowledge in this area.’
‘It’s OK,’ Kat said tightly. ‘You were just being honest. Actually, after you said that, I went back and looked some of them over. I kind of realised you were right – I mean, they weren’t very good drawings. Actually, when I thought about it, they kind of sucked.’
‘I never said that they sucked. They were very pretty. They –’
Kat waved her off. ‘Yeah, yeah, but pretty is not what I’m going for. N
o, really, I was grateful to you for telling me that. I mean, pretty is the kind of crap my mum cares about. There’s just lots of other stuff in life, you know?’ In a single fluid movement she swung her legs off the bed, allowing Yannie to admire their smoothness and musculature. ‘Like, I probably shouldn’t even be showing this to you, after the way I reacted last time. You probably can’t be honest anymore, ’cos you think if you are, I’ll just bite your head off. Anyway, just tell me what you think.’
She reached under the bed and withdrew an enormous sheet of paper, backed with cardboard and covered by layer of translucent gauze. Drawing back the gauze, she motioned for Yannie to look at her work.
The drawing was large – Yannie was surprised by how big it was – and mostly monochromatic, with lines and shading done in black charcoal. Some grey-green watercolour inks had been applied over certain areas. The picture was of a figure, not quite human, the face turned away and angled downwards. The body was partially curled up and covered all over with flattened spines. The face was identifiably that of a young woman, maybe sixteen or seventeen years old. But it wasn’t recognisable as Kat, or at least not entirely.
The creature’s eyes were open, but her gaze slid sideways, appearing to focus on something just beyond the frame. At the same time – and it was hard to tell how this effect had been created – you had a sense she was aware of the viewer’s presence, but that she had chosen not to look at you directly. Whether this was out of fear, disinterest or something else, you couldn’t tell. The effect was disconcerting. You couldn’t tell how you were supposed to relate to her – how or what she thought, how much she knew and how much she was capable of knowing. You could look at her body and make a judgement – of how small and curled up she was, and how strange, and that she must come from somewhere else. But you could not tell what judgement she might make when she looked on your own body, your ambivalent consciousness, your life.
Kat was still hovering over Yannie’s shoulder, nervous but steeled for the rejection she clearly believed was inevitable. Yannie admired her obstinacy, her willingness to place herself again and again in the path of laceration. But she also hated her for having so much dumb luck, for being able to want things that others could not afford to want, a range of allowable desire that was nauseating in its dazzle and its scope. Kat believed it was enough to have a talent and to work on it – a belief which applied well enough in her own corner of the universe, but which she then extrapolated to be a general law of reality. Just as the Vikings had believed that the sheep which thrived better than goats in the geography of ancient Iceland would do so anywhere, causing them to starve abroad when the bad weather came.
There was nothing for it but the truth. ‘This is wonderful, Kat,’ she said, when what she really meant was How dare you how dare you how dare you.
10
The Necessary Ruthlessness: II
Returning from her evening walk, she met Evelyn in the living room. ‘Hello!’ she said, smiling cheerfully, but Evelyn stared at her with huge eyes as though Yannie had exited human form.
Without preamble, Evelyn said: ‘I know what you and Meng have been planning.’
‘What?’ said Yannie unhelpfully. ‘Um. What are you talking about?’
‘Don’t pretend that you don’t know!’ Evelyn spoke sharply, but there was no real anger in her voice. ‘You’ve been texting, talking on the phone, going on Skype when you think I’m out of the house. I was glad for you at first, you know – I thought you had found someone … Please, Yannie, you can’t do this to me.’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’ Keep talking, look blank, and don’t confess too early. ‘Evelyn, what specifically is going on? What is it that you think I’ve done, or that I’m doing? Can you tell me exactly what you’re talking about?’
Evelyn sat down on the sofa, uncharacteristically rigid. ‘No,’ she said, and her voice had a surprising dignity to it. ‘No, you can’t do this. You can’t just lie to me – act as if there’s nothing going on. We are family, Yannie. We’ve lived together, you’ve looked after my daughter, you are my sister-in-law. Please tell me the truth. There’s something going on with Meng and the company, isn’t there? You’re planning on doing something that is going to damage my husband.’
‘Evelyn …’ For a second Yannie considered denying it, but the intensity of Evelyn’s look dissuaded her. ‘Look, I’ll be straight with you. We may have discovered some legal issues. There may be a problem with Dr Stafford’s will, or there may not. Improper influence, I think that’s the legal term – well, you would know better than me. One of the carers at the nursing home seems to think so, and Meng wants to check it out. There will be an investigation … If they find nothing, then they find nothing. There’s no reason why this has to affect you at all –’
‘Don’t give me that nonsense!’ Yannie noted with admiration how, even in conditions of high distress, Evelyn managed to maintain her cut-glass British accent. ‘This Meng, I don’t know why you would listen to him. He has it in for our whole family. I know that he’s bitter - there’s always bitterness where there’s business, when there’s a change in leadership. And because of that, he’s plotting to drag my husband’s name through the mud!’
Yannie aimed for a placatory tone. ‘Well, there are some issues that Meng is worried about, it’s true. But it’s not up to him – it’s the law. If the staff at the nursing home suspect a patient has been manipulated or financially abused, they have to report it to the authorities. These are serious allegations, and I’m sure they will take them as seriously as they need to … ’ She thought, I sound like a government-hired apologist in a totalitarian state. That’s how unconvincing I sound to myself.
‘The authorities? What do you mean, the authorities?’
‘Well, you know. The people who investigate these things. I’m not that familiar with this system. Magistrates. Lawyers. Whoever –’
‘My God, you want to hand my husband over to the police? Do you know what that will do to him?’
‘Well, if they don’t find anything –’
‘Especially if they don’t find anything!’ Evelyn spat out the words. ‘Whatever it is, what you are doing will smash his position at the company. He’s worked for years … Oh, don’t pretend to be naive. You cannot keep a thing like this a secret. He’s already an outsider in that place. Even if your accusations are found to be totally false – which they will be, because my husband has done nothing wrong – an allegation like this has the potential to break him to pieces. And then what will happen to our family?’ She raised her hands and spread her fingers, then let them fall, as if amazed by the extent of the nothingness within her grasp. ‘What will happen to Kat?’
‘Kat will be fine. She has her own life, she has her own interests.’ Yannie realised with surprise that this was true. ‘Anyway, she’s almost grown-up. Soon she’ll be off and supporting herself. That’s what I was doing when I was her age. She’s resilient, you know. I wouldn’t underestimate what she’s capable –’
‘Don’t you dare lecture me! Don’t try and tell me the character of my own daughter. You know nothing about her, about us, about my husband. You know nothing about my family!’
‘Your family?’ Yannie raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t wanted to hurt Evelyn any more than could be avoided, but the implication stung. ‘I thought that you and I were family. At least that’s what you said just a moment ago. So which is it?’
Evelyn closed her eyes. When she opened them, she seemed less angry than astounded. ‘How can you do this to me, Yannie? I know that you and Shan don’t get on. But to broadcast it to others… getting your own back is one thing, for a grudge. But don’t you know this is not just about you? Your actions have an effect on other people.’
Yannie, against her will, felt her core temperature begin to rise. ‘Oh, really? Actions have consequences? You want to explain that to me, one adult to another adult? Don’t take the high road, Evelyn. Fraud has an effect on people. It’s not my fa
ult if what Shan has done is coming out …’
‘I don’t know how you can talk like that. How you can go on scoring points – we’ve lived together, even teaching my daughter … all this time.’ Evelyn buried her face in her hands and began to weep. Yannie observed her with some detachment. It was obvious that Evelyn was experiencing genuine grief, and yet this emotion seemed utterly separate from the crying through which it was expressed externally. The noises coming out of her body were loud and intensely physically disturbing. They filled Yannie with embarrassment, rather than arousing her compassion.
‘Look at me, Evelyn,’ she said more gently. Remarkably, Evelyn met her eye. ‘Tell me honestly. Did you know what was going on with Shan and Dr Stafford, and the controlling interest? Because if you did – well, I thought that you would have said something. It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you would approve of.’
‘Is it my decision?’ Immediately on speaking Evelyn began to backtrack, recoiling from the implication of marital disunity. ‘And what are these allegations anyway? No, you tell me – what are you saying, what are you accusing my husband of? I’ve gone to that nursing home myself. That old man, Dr Stafford, he has plenty of faculties left! He’s not being exploited! He is perfectly capable of making competent business decisions …’
‘Don’t be ridiculous! I’ve seen him too, remember? He’s just about to cark it. All he does is hallucinate, get confused and yell at us about his jelly.’ The word jelly seemed somehow inappropriate to the occasion. ‘Look, Evelyn, I’m so sorry that this has affected you. I didn’t … you weren’t the one I wanted to hurt, in all of this.’
‘You’re sorry, are you? Well, I’m sorry too. Oh, believe me, I’m far sorrier.’ Evelyn began to weep spasmodically, like a small child. ‘I’m sorry I took you into my house. I’m sorry for wanting to help you, just because I felt sorry for you. I thought you were pathetic, you know. I’m sorry I thought that.’