Oliver had been increasingly worried through the evening about his brother’s attention to Holly, he had been watching them, trying to make sure they had no chance to be alone. He told Linda so they could both keep an eye on them. Neither thought it would be a good idea for them to get together, even though Linda thought that it would mean Holly wouldn’t pursue Carl. When she had seen Crispin follow Holly out to the kitchen, she had nudged Oliver to intervene. Just in case.
“Now now now! None of that! Holly’s off limits Crisp. Don’t take advantage, we’re supposed to be looking after her.”
“I was.”
“It’s OK!” Holly laughed it off “We weren’t doing anything, just a bit of fun.” But it hadn’t been just a bit of fun for Crispin.
The next afternoon the four sat around reading the Sunday newspapers, Linda and Holly nursing unfamiliar hangovers. Any bad feeling between Crispin and his brother had disappeared as they whispered together before Crispin laughed and disappeared. They heard the front door slam and then a short time later open and slam again.
Crispin appeared in the room with six tins of Baked Beans.
“This is a scientific survey,” Oliver explained “we’re going to count the beans in each tin, measure them and identify which gives the best value.” He looked down at the sceptical faces. “No. Seriously. It’s a proper experiment!” Linda didn’t seem too enthusiastic but Holly joined in with the spirit of the game. “Come on you two, get Gerry and Steve from downstairs and we’ll do a tin each.”
“They’ll be watching the box like any sensible person on a wet Sunday afternoon.”
“Who said they were sensible?”
“I’ll get them.” Linda wasn’t too reluctant to go downstairs, she quite fancied Gerry.
What started out as an organised attempt to grade the various makes of baked beans quickly descended into a bean fight. “He started it!” cried Holly as she flicked beans in the direction of Crispin with the fork she had been using to carefully separate out individual beans.
Linda took advantage of the mayhem to pour some of her tin down Gerry’s back and then thoroughly enjoyed his attempts to reciprocate.
Oliver and Steve sat back watching as beans went everywhere “It’s a good thing she’s off with Crisp not you isn’t it?”
“Why’s that?”
“Well if she was yours it’d be Olly and Holly!”
Steve’s self-congratulatory laughter was silenced by Oliver’s scowl. “They’re not off with each other.”
“It bloody well looks like it to me.”
Oliver had to admit Steve had a point as he watched Holly trying to lick beans and tomato sauce off his brother’s face as he tried to clean hers.
“Leave her alone Crisp.” His brother warned him later that evening. “She’s Linda’s best friend. It won’t work. I thought you realised that last night.”
“Too close to home you mean?”
“Something like that.”
“I do fancy her though.”
“If you really like her you’ll leave her alone. Give her some years when she hasn’t got a heavy relationship. Let her have fun, but not with you, you’re too involved. You don’t just fancy her do you? You really fancy her. You hate it when she’s with anyone else, you hate it when she ogles Carl, you are beginning to act as if she’s yours and you can’t. Not when she’s got three years at university and she’s got to grow up. When she graduates, if you’re both still interested, have a go then.”
“She’ll think I’ve led her on.”
“Do a diversion. What about that girl in the pub last week?”
“Liz?”
“Yeah. Spend time with her, Crisp, she’s more your age anyway.”
“I thought he fancied me.” A week later Holly and Linda were sitting on the pavement outside the pub watching the tourists and the traffic. “He’s avoiding me. He spends all his time with that tart Liz.”
“Don’t ask me. I’m not my brother’s keeper. He can get off with anyone he likes.”
“But not me.”
“Not a good idea. I’d hate it if you got off with him, it would be so embarrassing. You don’t fancy him do you? I mean he’s got freckles and red hair. You couldn’t possibly fancy someone like that.”
“He’s got lovely eyes and what’s wrong with freckles? He’s nice.”
“No he’s not. He’s my brother. He can’t be nice. Not like that.”
“He’s always been nice to me, all year he’s talked to me and asked me how work’s going and how I like living in England, and do I miss home. He’s always listened to me.”
“There’re so many gross things I could tell you about him! And Oliver.”
“Like what?”
Linda wondered what she could say that would really put Holly off.
“Well they only wear one pair of underpants a week.”
“What? Between them?”
“No silly, each.”
“What about socks?”
“You’re not taking this seriously are you?”
“No, still,” Holly continued after a pause, “I’m not making any promises. About any of them.”
And Linda knew exactly what she meant.
They sat on the pavement in self-conscious silence for a while, watching the parade of tourists and foreign students who stayed in the city through the summer.
“I wonder what it’s like to be pregnant.” Holly nudged Linda out of her sulk.
“What makes you say that?”
Holly pointed to a woman who looked as if she was going to explode.
“Oh God! How Gross! She’s vast!”
“Shut up, she’ll hear you. It must be horrible. Something growing inside you and there’s only one way out! It’s gross! I’ll never get pregnant! It’s too yuchy for words!”
“Talking about sex…”
“As we weren’t…”
“Well nearly. Anyway, you know when you told me about having sex with Snot.”
“Or whatever his name was.”
“Well, how did you get into the situation? How’d you get alone with him, you know, how did it start?”
“Why? You thinking of someone in particular?”
“Well I can’t go to University a virgin can I?
“I’m sure one or two people do.”
“Well I don’t want to so I’ve got to do something about it this summer. I’m running out of time.”
“Got anyone in mind?”
“Hey you guys, want another drink?” Gerry sat down next to Linda and put his arm around her shoulders. “Talking about anything important?”
“Nope.” Linda and Holly both giggled. “Nothing important at all.”
Chapter Six
“How many do you think will come back?”
“I have no idea, that’s the problem with funerals isn’t it? It’s very good of you to have Alicia’s people to stay and then have everyone back here.”
“Ted, it’s the least Charles and I can do.”
“Weddings, birthday parties and now funerals.” It seemed odd how many of our family events over the years had been held at Sandhey.
It was early January 1972 and I was sitting with Max and his old friend Ted Mottram. We were seated in comfortable leather armchairs around the fire in Max’s study. Ted wore the grey trousers, checked shirt, paisley tie and tweed jacket that were the informal uniform of his generation and his short hair was receding and turning grey at the temples, but it was the way he was slumped in his chair that made him seem more than his 53 years.
I felt out of place even though it was my Mother’s funeral we were discussing.
Perhaps I felt like that because I was the only one who had not loved her.
“How’s Susannah?” I reluctantly asked Ted about my sister.
“Shocked, Charles, shocked It’s set her back again. She was just beginning to recover from…” he hesitated “the events of two years past.” I thought that a rather feeble description of her returni
ng home from having an abortion to find her husband attempting to rape Monika and then watching him die while he was trying to drown his children. “She was just beginning to learn that her Mother wasn’t the dreadful woman she had thought she was. They were quite close these final months but they argued at the end.” I heard him add quietly “ We argued at the end.”
“Susannah must come here.” Max spoke firmly, breaking into the embarrassed silence. “It isn’t suitable for her to be with you whereas I am old and there is Monika in the house. We will look after her well.” Max spoke kindly but Ted seemed hurt, as if Max had been criticising the care he could give. I tried to divert their attention.
“When’s my sister finally going to take responsibility for the children?” I argued “She can’t expect them to live with that Nanny forever, surely she’s got to start facing up to life?”
They ignored my intervention.
“We can discuss her moving over here this evening when she comes over for dinner. I’m sure she will agree, she must realise it’s inappropriate for her to stay with me and she really doesn’t have anywhere else to go.”
“Have you heard from Carl?” I asked Ted; whenever Susannah was mentioned in conversation thoughts of Carl were never far away.
“He’s back in the south I think. I saw him last month but he doesn’t really keep in touch.” Ted had more time for my half brother than I did. “He’s a very unsettled and unhappy young man in many ways.”
“Hardly surprising.”
“As you say, hardly surprising.”
“To get back to the original question about tomorrow. I can’t see that many will be at the church. It’s a long time since her life was here. There are the three of us, Susannah and Monika of course and Alicia’s mother is travelling up.” He looked at his watch and out through the windows at the rain and the mid winter evening already drawing in. “They should be here soon.”
“They?”
“Yes she’s coming with a grandson, Graham. He’d be your cousin Charles.”
A grandmother and a cousin I had never met. I knew my Mother had married against her parents’ wishes and had lost contact with her family years ago. Perhaps this would be a chance to find out some of details.
“There won’t be many then.”
“Probably not, though it was in the paper and you never know how many people will come either for old times sake or simply because they’re curious. She was a very popular lady in her time, what with Arnold’s politicking.” I thought that an appropriate dismissal of my father’s ambitions.
I answered the doorbell as Monika was busy in the kitchen cooking the formal dinner we were having that evening.
“I’m so sorry we’re late.” The old lady spoke breathlessly. “We had a bit of trouble getting the car. They wouldn’t give us one. They said Graham had been drinking and David was too old. So Maureen had to hire it. It was so lucky we met her on the train otherwise we wouldn’t have been able to get here. It all took so long. You must be Charles.”
I tried to take in all that she had said and ushered the group into the hall, taking their coats and bags.
“Can we start again?”
We had been expecting my grandmother and a grandson. I was not sure who the old gentleman was, or the other woman who seemed vaguely familiar. My grandmother must have seen the enquiry in my face as she immediately explained, but her explanation begged more questions than it answered.
“This is my husband, David McKennah, my grandson Graham Tyler, and this kind lady is Maureen Shelton. She was not only an old friend of your Mother’s but is also related. She is your step-aunt, we have been talking about it on the train. She is Kathleen’s sister.”
I was still trying to take in all the relationships as, with the detached good manners that had been instilled in me for years, I asked them to make themselves comfortable while I sorted out the additional rooms that would be needed.
I walked across the hall to Max’s study where we had been sitting so securely a few minutes earlier unsure how I was going to explain our additional guests.
“Our guests have arrived,” I began “but they appear to have multiplied. My grandmother is here, with her grandson who, I should warn you, seems rather drunk. There’s also a man who was introduced as her husband and a woman who is apparently not only an old friend of my Mother’s but also my step-Mother’s sister.”
“Maureen?” Ted seemed intrigued “I wonder where she sprang from.”
Max looked thoughtful but not overly enthusiastic to meet them “Show them to their rooms will you Charles, I will meet our guests at dinner.”
Ted, Susannah and I were in the drawing room promptly at seven o’clock.
Maureen was the first to appear. She was elegantly but unostentatiously dressed. I tried to remember what my step-mother had been like and whether there was any similarity between them. I found I could hardly remember her. It had all been a long time ago.
“I am so sorry to land myself on you tonight, it certainly wasn’t planned. I was on the train and couldn’t help hearing the conversation of the people sitting behind me. They were talking about Alicia. For many years I had been her friend, possibly her only friend until Ted came along.” She paused and smiled in Ted’s direction. “I wasn’t at all sure whether I should make myself known. I mentally tossed a coin; heads I’d talk to them, tails I would stay quiet. As the coin twirled in my mind’s eye I wanted it to land ‘heads’ so I didn’t worry about finishing the image, but just leaned round to talk to them.” I had heard of this way of deciding which of two courses of action to take before, I was sure Carl had described it to me. I had rather liked the idea. “So they asked me to join them. I’m afraid we spent most of the journey talking about old times and Graham, well, I’m afraid he seems to have spent most of the journey in the buffet car.”
My grandmother and her husband joined us and they took up the story talking good-naturedly, finishing each other’s sentences in the manner of people who were comfortable with themselves, each other and their surroundings.
“We had been decided before we even got to Crewe that Maureen would share our hire car…”
“… and would direct us here.”
“I had been worried about how we would find the house on a dark and wet evening, even though Graham said he knew where the house was.”
“He’s been studying in Liverpool for nearly three years now.”
“It was an arrangement that really suited us all, especially when the hire company wouldn’t let Graham drive because he was too drunk…”
“or me because they said I was too old.”
“So Maureen drove by default. The least I could do was offer her hospitality. I realise it was presumptuous of me.”
“I hope you don’t mind, but she really has been very helpful.”
When I heard Max’s footsteps on the polished parquet floor I turned to introduce him to our guests but he didn’t come in the room immediately, he stood in the doorway for several moments before joining us.
“You must be Edith. How do you do? I am so pleased to meet you despite the occasion.”
David stood up and shook Max’s proffered hand. “David McKennah”. He had spoken oddly, emphasising his surname. Max glanced at me, it seemed like he was checking whether I had noticed anything. I had, but I had no idea what it was.
Some while later Graham appeared still dressed in the scruffy jeans and sweater he had arrived in. He could easily have changed but it seemed he wanted to be deliberately defiant.
He ignored the others in the room and came to within two feet of me as I poured glasses at the drinks table. “Been looking forward to talking to you, cousin Charles. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’ve met queers before but never actually been this close to one, not knowingly anyway. Better not turn my back on you had I?” He laughed as though he felt he was being very clever. I sincerely hoped no one else heard what he was saying to me above the general conversation.
I wasn’t
sure how to answer and hadn’t responded when he continued “How old were you when you came here to live with an old man? 13? 14? That can’t be right can it? Not proper at all. And only with your old nanny to keep you apart. Fancy living with your nanny.”
I shouldn’t have credited his insinuations with an answer but I had to say something. “She’s not a nanny any more. She hasn’t been for years. She’s our housekeeper.” I spoke through clenched teeth, trying not to gain anyone’s attention.
“Well it’s obvious isn’t it? Old man, young man, ‘housekeeper’. It can’t be normal can it?”
“Of course it can!” I was stung into arguing with him when it would have been best to have ignore his rudeness.
“Yeah. Right.” I didn’t know how to react to Graham’s sarcasm.
I had known for years what people thought of my living in Max’s house and the nature of our relationship but no one had been so crass as to mention it to my face. I had never thought how I would respond if someone had.
“Yeah.” He repeated, laughing as he made a point of sidling away from me to sit down next to Susannah. “Hi coz, at least I’m safe with you.”
Ted poured drinks and as I handed them round I was thinking what a strange group we made.
Throughout the meal the atmosphere was subdued. I spent most of the time telling my Grandmother and Maureen about my love of birds and answering their questions on how I had managed to make something of a living by writing and giving talks. They seemed interested to hear about it and let me talk on. Graham behaved himself through the meal, saying little and using approximately the correct cutlery.
Monika normally ate with Max and I, as she was our friend as well as our housekeeper. This evening, though, she didn’t join us until after she had served the coffee and Max was walking round the table, his left arm behind his back in almost military fashion, carefully pouring deep yellow wine into the last unused glasses. A lengthy after dinner session was obviously anticipated. As he poured I noticed the year on the bottle. 1934. It must have been one of his most special wines.
Walking Alone Page 5