Fraser's Line

by Monica Carly

  The trouble was, she thought, it wasn’t easy deciding which sort of job to go for. Up to now she’d managed to have enough income not to have to bother immediately – giving her plenty of time to think about it. That source had now, of course, dried up, forcing her to think again. Should she just look for something to fill in for a bit, or should she seriously consider getting on the rung of some sort of career ladder? If so, which ladder?

  If university had worked out she might have had a better idea of where she was going. She’d had a problem deciding what sort of course to do – one she simply enjoyed for the content’s sake – in which case she would have accepted Manchester’s offer to study history – or a vocational one – such as journalism at City University. She did love history, but on the other hand she’d fancied making her way in journalism. It might be fun to be out in some foreign war-torn land, reporting back to people at home – the sounds of gunfire in the background ensuring a dramatic effect, the heat and dust contrasting starkly with Britain’s continual rain. Perhaps that was a pipe dream – and her mother’s comments had not helped. They’d only heightened the indecision. She still smarted at the memory. Being told you were a useless parasite scarcely boosted the ego.

  Because she had dithered for too long she had missed the university application deadlines, and so at the last minute took what was offered – i.e. reading English at Sussex, but she had found it difficult to settle, and wished she’d done the course at Manchester. She’d much have preferred that, she thought. By the time it came to the exams at the end of the first year she knew she had not done enough work to pass, so she dropped out and arrived home just when her fellow students were opening their exam papers.

  Since then she had done a few odd jobs of one sort and another, and usually left before she could get fired. What she needed was some way of scouring the locality looking for a good job. That meant a car – and she had thought she was home and dry on that when the totally unexpected had happened.

  Now she thought of her father and wondered if he would fall for this one. It was worth a try, and if she played her cards well, who knows? He was always kind, even if a bit disapproving at times, never grasping the real issues – in her view. She was rather reluctant to approach him when he was still obviously feeling his loss deeply, and she felt daunted at the thought. Sarah always seemed to know what to say, no matter what the situation, but she never did. Perhaps it would be good to give him a ring, anyway, and she could then see what the possibilities were, once the conversation had got underway.

  Joanna rang Fraser’s office number.

  ‘Hi Dad, how are you?’

  ‘I’m all right, thank you Joanna. I’m glad to hear from you. I was just saying to Granny yesterday that I hadn’t spoken to you recently.’

  ‘How was Granny?’ Joanna asked

  ‘She seemed very tired. She had said she wanted to show me some things – papers and photos – but in the end she didn’t have the energy. So I said I’d go again next weekend and that seemed to please her.’

  ‘What sort of papers?’ asked Joanna.

  ‘I’ve really no idea. But obviously something is on her mind.’

  ‘You’re very good to Granny,’ said Joanna.

  ‘Well, it’s up to children to look after their parents, especially when they get elderly.’

  ‘I don’t do much for you,’ Joanna replied with unusual honesty.

  ‘That’s perfectly true,’ said Fraser. ‘Fortunately, I am not elderly yet, so at the moment the boot is usually on the other foot. Why are you ringing? Is there something I can do for you?’

  ‘I thought you might like to meet me this evening for a meal, for a change. There, you see, I do think of you sometimes.’

  ‘Why do you want to? Is there a particular reason?’ Fraser was fairly sure that by the end of the evening he would be dipping into his pocket. Joanna usually had ulterior motives.

  ‘There’s something I’d like to discuss with you. How about the Smugglers Arms at seven o’clock?’

  ‘Very well, if you wish. So, how are you? Is James still around?’

  ‘Good heavens, no! He disappeared long ago.’

  ‘You’re very good of getting rid of your boyfriends,’ said Fraser. ‘I suppose there’s another one on the scene now.’

  ‘Well, yes, actually there is.’ Joanna’s voice had gone a bit dreamy.

  ‘Am I going to meet him? Are you bringing him this evening?’

  ‘Certainly not,’ said Joanna. ‘Anyway, you wouldn’t approve.’

  ‘I suppose he’s an escaped convict this time.’

  ‘Not at all – he’s very clever.’

  ‘So what does he do?’

  ‘Something in computers – not sure what, really.’

  ‘You mean like Michael? Running his own business?’

  ‘Rather like Michael, yes.’

  ‘You’re not telling me much about him. What’s so great about him?’

  ‘He’s very good in bed,’ said Joanna.

  ‘I don’t want to know that. Just tell me why I’m not going to approve.’

  ‘Well,’ said Joanna hesitantly, ‘he’s a… a Pakistani.’

  ‘Oh, Joanna!’ Fraser exploded. ‘You really do know how to pick them! You’re not going to marry this one, are you?’

  ‘I doubt that very much,’ she replied.

  Fraser couldn’t help feeling relieved. He knew she thought he had old-fashioned ideas, but a mixed marriage of that nature was not something he was going to find it easy to accept.

  Joanna said, ‘I expect he’ll go back to his family in the end.’

  ‘You mean back to Pakistan?’

  ‘Something like that,’ she replied. ‘Anyway, see you this evening.’

  She had chosen the most expensive item on the menu – knowing he would offer to pick up the tab at the end – and she was downing a gin and tonic.

  ‘What about a job? Any progress?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. I’ve decided the problem is I don’t really know enough about the businesses in this locality. I mean, you can read adverts – but you have to go to a place to know if it’s the sort of thing that would appeal – absorb the ambience – you know, that sort of thing. And I can’t get round easily, because I’ve no transport of my own.’

  The penny dropped. ‘So you want me to buy you a car!’

  ‘You can see how it would multiply the possibilities one hundredfold. And it would transform my life – it’s so horrid having to come back at night from places on the underground – or by bus. Probably isn’t at all safe, these days.’

  ‘It’s a pretty big thing to ask for. Most people have to work in order to afford one. You want it the other way round.’

  ‘Oh please Dad – it would be so nice. And it would only be a loan. I’ll pay you back as soon as I’ve got the money.’

  Fraser wondered just how many times he’d heard that before – and how often he’d fallen for it – before it finally dawned that she had no intention of paying him back.

  ‘I’m sorry, Joanna,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe in young people having everything handed to them on a plate. I’ve had to work my way up, and you must learn to do the same. Sarah has never asked for anything – she’s earned everything she’s got.’

  Joanna could see this approach wasn’t getting anywhere. But she had another card up her sleeve. It would have to emerge slowly, as he wasn’t going to like it.

  ‘Dad,’ she said, ‘can I ask – did Mummy make a will?’

  Fraser pulled a face. ‘No, I’m afraid not. I tried to persuade her to, and had my Solicitor come round one day, but she was adamant, and refused. I did mine, but she had some sort of superstitious blockage about it, and wouldn’t do it. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Have you cleared up all her papers now?’
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  ‘I haven’t touched them,’ Fraser admitted. ‘I got someone from one of those charities to come and take away all her clothes and bags, and scarves – that sort of thing. I couldn’t bear seeing the dresses hanging in the wardrobe – they reminded me too much of her. She loved new clothes, and always looked so nice.’

  ‘But you haven’t looked at any of her personal documents?’

  ‘No – Edie liked her areas of privacy, and one of these was where she kept all the important personal things. She used the bureau in the spare bedroom, and kept it locked. I was a bit surprised that she wanted to do this, as I was always quite open with her, but there seemed to be something in her nature that needed to do it that way, so I just let her arrange things as she wished. I have no idea what is in there, but I suppose all her financial documents, certificates, and all that kind of thing.’

  ‘Don’t you think you should sort it out now? I could help you, if you like. I realise it’s going to be painful for you. By the way, what happens to her money if she didn’t make a will?’

  ‘I did ask about this, although I never for a moment dreamt that she would go before me. I was always anxious to make sure she was provided for. I started giving her sums of money quite early in our marriage – as soon as I had some to spare – for her to put into a Savings Account, so that she could build up something of a nest egg over the years. I suppose that’s all still there, in her name. It seems that, as her husband, surviving her, the law of intestacy means that it passes to me. But what’s all this sudden interest in your mother’s affairs?’

  ‘Mother told me she would buy me a car. She’d been giving me some sums of money, knowing I didn’t have a job yet, and she could see a car was a good idea, so she promised me one – only a few days before she … before she died.’

  Fraser choked over his mouthful of food. ‘Your Mother! Gave you money! Promised to buy you a car! Why ever would she do that?’

  ‘Hush …’ said Joanna. ‘I mean, you’re shouting.’

  ‘I’m sorry but you’ve made me angry. Just tell me why on earth your mother would have offered to buy you a car!’

  ‘Perhaps she felt she wanted to, for some reason.’

  ‘What rubbish. I don’t know why she should even consider it for a moment –certainly not without discussing it with me. We did everything together. We always knew everything about each other.’

  ‘Oh, Dad!’ Pent up feelings were rushing to the surface. Joanna knew this wasn’t the time or the place but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘You’ve gone around all your life with your eyes closed! How can you be so blind! I know you’re going to tell me next that Mother was the best wife and mother in the world!’

  ‘So she was!’ Fraser could not contain his emotions either. ‘You and Sarah were very lucky – she went to endless trouble to look after you girls – nothing was too much effort. She taught you all you needed to know in life – I don’t ever want to hear you find fault with your mother. You’ve everything to be grateful to her for … everything!’

  ‘Tell me this.’ Joanna’s voice was carefully controlled. ‘Why do you think Sarah has to have her tight schedules? Why must she always have planned ahead for the next hour, the next day, the next week – but has no idea how to live in the present? Those poor kids have little scope for spontaneity or creativity – she’s afraid they might make a mess, and she hasn’t allowed enough time to clear it up! And why does she keep Michael on such a short leash? He’s tried to be a good husband but she never gives him any quality time – and he deserves so much more – he’s a loving, affectionate man and he needs to have someone to really love him and make a fuss of him. But Sarah’s on an express train rushing into the distance, with no time ever to stop and enjoy anything on the way.’

  Fraser couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘And you?’ he asked. ‘I suppose you’ll say next that you know where you’re going!’

  ‘I haven’t even got on any train yet,’ she replied, ‘because I can’t decide which one to take. I’m a disappointment, aren’t I? Come on, admit it, for once in your life. I can’t make decisions, I can’t settle on a career – I can’t keep boyfriends more than five minutes. Think about it, and now tell me Mother was the best mother in the world.’

  ‘And you’re claiming your mother is responsible for your shortcomings?’

  ‘Mother was so burdened by her own lack of a sense of self worth that she loaded her hang-ups onto us. We were brought up with some nebulous goal ahead for which we had to strive to gain her approval. Sometimes she was lavish with praise – at other times heavy with disapproval – and our problem was we didn’t really know what elicited which reaction. The goal posts kept moving. What was good one day wasn’t the next. I think there was something buried deep inside her, perhaps when she was a child, that gave her a great big guilt complex, and she had to show the world that she had every reason to deserve its approval, with her idyllic marriage, her praiseworthy children, and her own personal beauty and charm.’

  ‘So when did you gain a qualification in psychology? Your mother, having hang-ups, and a guilt complex – what utter nonsense!’

  Fraser’s face was white. Joanna had started and now she couldn’t stop. ‘You were always so thrilled with her, but deep down she believed she wasn’t worthy of your unwavering admiration, so she kept pushing you to see how far she could go. She wanted there to be a ceiling, but there never was one. She behaved outrageously and you went on shutting you eyes to any fault in her, or in us, for that matter. She treated you abominably, and you let her get away with it.’

  Fraser pushed his plate away. He sat back in his chair, his face pale and taut. After a little while he said, ‘You talking rot. Your mother always acted out of the best possible motives – all she wanted was that Sarah and you grew up to make the best of yourselves, to be happy, and to make your mother, and me, proud of you.’

  ‘It wasn’t that simple – Sarah and I were put under continual pressure but it was hopeless trying to say anything to you. You always got cross with us if you thought we’d upset her and you always supported her.’

  Fraser spoke through clenched teeth. ‘If you believe your mother promised you a car, then I will make good her promise. But I don’t ever want to hear you speak like that about her again, especially now she…’ He did not know how to finish the sentence. ‘I’ll get John to find you the cheapest car possible that’s reliable – he seems to have a lot of contacts – and that will be the end of the matter. I never want to hear anything like this again. And I don’t want any more to eat. Here’s the money – you pay the bill. I’m going home.’

  Not trusting himself to say any more, he left. He felt shattered. His family simply did not have rows or conflict. The idea that his children were not leading fulfilled and happy lives was incomprehensible. As for the indictment of Edie – he could not come to terms with it. The pain he now experienced was quite different from the pain of loss – that was understandable, at least. But this – he now felt thoroughly disturbed and did not know what to do with himself. Once home he walked round and round, wishing he could think of someone to ring up, so that he could talk and somehow rid himself of the unfamiliar and distressing feelings that were engulfing him – but he couldn’t think of anyone.

  Chapter 8

  Her mother wore the familiar anxious look she never seemed to shed these days. If she wasn’t looking tense and worried, she was usually in tears. This may have become the norm, but it didn’t make it any easier for Angela to bear. Gone were the days of the happy smile which had made the world feel a good place. Doreen had been like this ever since that frightful day two years ago, now so deeply etched in Angela’s memory.

  Until then life had been relatively easy and comfortable for Angela, and Peter – her brother older by two years. Their father Maurice made a reasonable living, first as a taxi driver, and then, for several years now, as the private driver of an i
mportant government official. This meant that he worked long and unpredictable hours, was on call all the time, and was often away for nights as well as days. As a result their mother could devote much of her time to her children, and they felt well cared for and loved. The three of them formed a close bond.

  One day when Angela was fourteen years old they were all on a shopping spree, and had naturally found their way to the large department store Doreen liked to frequent. She was a clever seamstress and made many of the clothes she and Angela wore. They were standing at the haberdashery counter while she chose buttons. The helpful sales assistant had brought out several trays, and Doreen was happily going from one to another, enjoying their feel, and colours and shapes.

  Suddenly Peter spun round and fell to the floor, foaming at the mouth, his body jerking convulsively. A small crowd gathered round, and a supervisor rushed up to investigate the commotion. Shoppers craned their necks to see what was going on. An ambulance was called, and Peter was carried out on a stretcher, still shaking and jerking. Angela never lost the memory of the feeling of fear she experienced at Peter’s strange behaviour – her brother seemed to have been transformed into an alien being, and she thought he would die.

  The diagnosis was epilepsy – or ‘grand mal’ as people called it. Drugs were used to treat it but they were not successful in controlling the fits completely. From that day on Doreen became more and more anxious. The symptoms were completely unpredictable. Peter would be perfectly normal one moment, and the next he would be on the ground, rolling about and jerking, often making strange noises. Sometimes when he fell he would knock himself on objects, and end up with a number of bruises. Once he had a fit while carrying a glass, which smashed as he fell and cut him badly. It became difficult to go anywhere, and it seemed best he left school, as in any case he was now sixteen. So Doreen kept him mostly at home, and although friends came to see him, some were frightened off by the fits, and started coming less frequently.