Judith Wants To Be Your Friend

by Annie Weir

  It’s easy walking into town because it’s downhill all the way. There’s no rush so I decide to take a different route to try to get to know the town a bit better. I find myself near Trinity School just off the main road. The No. 76 bus pulls up, and Joanna gets off. The driver waves to her as she darts across the road then she practically runs past me and up the steps into the school. I wonder whether her son or maybe an older child attends there. I stroll down after her and see the Adult Education board outside. An evening class, now there’s an idea. I pick up a brochure from the display stand and flick through. Most have already started, but only just. I wander up the steps to enquire as to which courses are on now. The reception area is empty so I have a walk about. Room 101 appears to have some sort of first aid thing going on. I hope that’s what it is anyway, with people adjusting other people’s positions on the floor. The next room has about ten people all walking around shaking hands with each other. I check the timetable; Room 102 is Spanish. That makes sense after all, and as I look up again, I see Joanna shake hands with a middle-aged man and stumble over her words. Even though she is concentrating, she’s laughing and the tutor comes over to offer help. Spanish; perfect! I go back along to reception and ring the bell several times to attract attention. A young woman is happy to take my details and my money and enrol me onto Spanish for Beginners. She suggests I wait for the coffee break to meet the tutor and then to make a start this evening. Sorted.

  Joanna doesn’t recognise me, of course. She must see loads of people in her cafe bar, and it was over two weeks ago that I was there. Not to worry. All in good time. I claim to know a little Spanish, I know quite a lot actually, but better not let on. I dutifully repeat the phrases we are taught about what we are called, where we come from and where we are planning to go for our holidays – Spain, of course – why else would we be there? It’s alright; better than spending the whole evening alone as usual. I sit behind her and to one side so that I can watch her, see who she talks to in particular (no one) and how well she picks up the phrases (not particularly well). When nine o’clock comes round I leave with everyone else and walk back up towards the city. She walks that way too, but turns left. I don’t follow. One step at a time. I need to take things slowly this time round. Honestly, Judith! Don’t rush into everything. You scare people! Yes, Mother, coming through loud and clear.

  Tuesday 6th October 2009

  Oh joy unconfined! It’s Maureen’s day to do her team briefing to us all. Work stops while she enjoys the sound of her own squeaky voice for twenty minutes. I look at her throughout and concentrate hard. She will never catch me out. Boring though it is, I remember everything. Just as she is drawing all the exciting store news to a close she says, ‘And don’t forget I’m on holiday next week. I’m helping with the refurb of our village hall. I’ve still got some raffle tickets left if anyone hasn’t bought any. We need all the funds we can get.’

  I had forgotten. I must be slipping. I suppose with being off for two weeks I just hadn’t given it any thought. Still, that’s good. That sounds to me like an opportunity.

  ‘Anita will take over as chief cashier while I’m off. Can anyone do any extra hours to help cover?’

  Discussion ensues about childcare responsibilities and bus times. I don’t take any part in the discussion until Maureen goes on her lunch break. Only then do I look up at Anita and smile.

  ‘I’m happy to help out while Maureen’s off,’ I say quietly, ‘just let me know what you need me to do.’

  ‘Oh, thanks Judith. We know so little about your life outside Cost-Save, we didn’t like to ask.’

  ‘I’m fine next week. Anything you need.’ And I smile again. Maureen won’t believe it when Anita tells her about it later – not about offering to help but about me smiling, twice!

  It seems that Maureen had received a telling-off over lunch for not conducting a return-to-work interview with me yesterday so we go somewhere private to go through the tedious and predictable process, the WARM process as she calls it. She formally Welcomes me back (that’s the W) and tells me that I had been missed as I was now a valued member of the cash office team. She moves on to the A, the Absence itself to make sure I had really been ill and not faking or being stressed. She reminds me that I have a contractual Responsibility to be at work (like I don’t know that) then we agree to Move on with positive action. This is where she is supposed to tell me what I have missed and how I will catch up. It’s irrelevant because all I’ve missed is counting money and getting it ready for banking. It didn’t look to me as though that had fallen behind. I smile at the thought of the cash office bulging with notes because I hadn’t been there for two weeks, and Securicor men queuing up outside.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ she asks, clearly not confident in her own ability to conduct this interview. She thinks I am laughing at her.

  ‘Nothing,’ I say, and leave it at that but I maintain eye contact.

  She looks back at me for a few seconds before looking away and, I think, deciding that I am not worth the effort. ‘Let’s get back to work then.’

  ‘I haven’t had my lunch yet.’

  ‘Oh, you haven’t, have you? Sorry Judith. We could have done this later.’ I believe we could have done without it altogether, but say nothing. ‘Go now.’

  The staff canteen is almost empty. I get a sandwich and coffee and settle down to read The Time Traveller’s Wife when Mr. Wilson (call me Ken) sits down with me. Oh well, it can’t hurt.

  I smile. ‘Hello Ken.’

  ‘Hello Judith. How are you now? I hear you weren’t well.’

  ‘No I wasn’t but fine now. How are you?’

  ‘Oh fine.’ He hesitates, ‘I was thinking…’ but mercifully I am spared his thought as She-who-must-be-obeyed comes to whisk him away. Mary Morris is the General Store Manager, and is not to be trifled with.

  I pretend to read but actually I am thinking about Ken. Not in that way, well yes, sort of in that way. He may be useful some time. I know Chief-Cashier-Maureen likes him. In fact she flirts with him outrageously at times. If nothing else, it’ll annoy her if he and I get friendly. She can’t do anything. She’s married with two small kids, and I’m free as a bird. Sort of, anyway. Let’s see how this one develops.

  It’s another nice evening. I take my usual route to town over the bridge. Actually, as far as I can see, it’s the only route to town. This time the man with the Jack Russell says hello to me. I say hello back and bend down to stroke the little dog. I hate dogs but I am full of goodwill towards the world just now.

  ‘T’were an accident,’ he said.

  ‘What was?’

  ‘’is leg.’

  And it was only then that I noticed that the dog had a leg missing. I pulled my hand back involuntarily. I can’t believe I lost control like that, and immediately put my hand back on its head.

  ‘Poor thing. Anyway, must get on.’

  ‘Aye. ‘night.’

  I hurry on less full of goodwill than fifteen minutes earlier. I feel that I could do with something stronger than coffee but I can’t afford the prices in the bars. I might stop at Bargain Booze on my way home and get a bottle of cheap plonk. I never thought I’d see the day. As I push open the door of Café Bar Sierra I hear a voice that sings out, ‘Hola, Judith. Cómo estás es ta noche?’

  ‘Hola, Joanna. Estoy bien, gracias. Cómo estás?’

  And after we exhaust our conversational Spanish, I order a latte and we chat in English until she has other customers to serve. Result!

  Friday 9th October 2009

  I am back at work after two days off. I tend to work at the weekends as the other staff have families they want to spend time with. God, wait until they grow up; they’ll want to spend as little time as possible with them then. I prefer days off in the week anyway. The buses and trains are more frequent, which is a big consideration now that I haven
’t got a car. My trip to Newcastle by train on Wednesday was good. Anywhere is good that isn’t here and isn’t Hexham. I was tempted to get off when it stopped there but resisted. Too soon.

  ‘How were your days off, Judith?’ Anita is making an effort. It’s Maureen’s day off so I make an effort back.

  ‘Fine, thanks. I went across to Newcastle to see some old friends. We had lunch and went to an art gallery.’

  ‘An art gallery? Nice!’

  Maybe I should have said that I had gone to the cinema, or something else more normal. But then I would have had to have known something about the film. No, better stick to something only just outside the sphere of knowledge.

  ‘Do you like art, then?’

  Be civil. ‘Oh yes, my late husband was the one who was really interested and I suppose a bit of it just rubbed off. I’m not an expert or anything.’

  ‘I know what you mean. You know what you like!’

  Keep smiling – it’s really not that difficult making stupid small talk. ‘Ha, yes exactly. I know what I like. I can’t afford to buy what I like, that’s the problem.’

  Anita suddenly looks serious. ‘Did you say your late husband?’

  ‘Yes.’ I look away. I don’t know where that idea came from but I will need to think it through for a while. I try to give the impression that I don’t want to talk about that, and go back to counting cash. ‘I’d better get on. Securicor will be here soon.’

  Anita doesn’t mention the dead husband thing again but I can tell that she is thinking about it. She is looking at me with big eyes and with a great deal of sympathy. She’ll tell the others later and they will all start to be more understanding of my strange moods and behaviour. Yes, that was a stroke of genius. People always keep away from a bereaved person, but when they have to be near them, they are always very nice.

  The evenings are drawing in already and soon the clocks will go back. Spring forward, fall back. It’ll be dark when I walk into town then. I’ve left it a bit later tonight so that I don’t see the man with the dog. It’s just after six when I approach Cafe Bar Sierra, and I see Joanna leaving with a cheery ‘Ciao’ to the staff and customers. She turns and hurries down English Street like she did the first time I saw her. I pick up speed and follow her round the corner, across the road and into The Crescent. I hang back. She speaks to a couple of people, obviously a regular here, as she waits for the No. 76 bus to pull round. She gets on, takes out a book, and settles down for the journey home. No. 76. I must look up where that goes to. I walk back to the café bar and order my usual latte. I’m feeling the after effects of the Bargain Booze cheap red from my days off so decide to drink up and go back home for an early night.

  Saturday 10th October 2009

  Maureen’s last day before her holiday. I try to be as off-hand and difficult as I can without the others seeing. It’s not that easy in such a confined space so I stop that game and concentrate on being perfect in my work. Ken is duty manager today and when he comes in to sign the banking he smiles at me.

  ‘I never told you what it was I was thinking about the other day, Judith,’ he says with what can only be described as a twinkle.

  I smile back. No one misses a moment of this. ‘And I haven’t been able to sleep for wondering what it was.’

  His pager buzzes and he is once again distracted. Maybe Mary Morris fancies him and wants him where she can see him, but more likely that she has found some out-of-date produce or some tins facing the wrong way on the shelves and is waiting to give him hell when he gets out of here. He quickly signs the banking and leaves, but before he goes he says to me, ‘I’m still thinking the same thing.’

  ‘I’m still wondering what it is,’ I reply.

  Maureen’s eyes are boring into the back of my head. I don’t turn round for a few moments, just to wind her up a bit more. At that moment the Securicor man buzzes from outside, it’s time to do a change-run for the checkouts and do a till reading, and sadly there just isn’t enough time for her to ask me about it. She will have to go off on a week’s holiday thinking about me and Mr. (call me Ken) Wilson and what developments there might be before she gets back.

  I don’t walk into town on Saturday evenings. It’s too sad even for me to be out on my own when everyone is at least fifteen years younger than me and being noisy and jolly in crowds. Strictly Come Dancing and X-Factor are enough to keep me occupied. I picked up a copy of the bus timetable. I think the No. 76 starts from somewhere around here in the area they call Stanwix. Then it stops at West Tower Street; I know where that is, close to the smelly underpass, and the next stop is The Crescent where I saw Joanna get on. Next is Grey Street, which I look up on my map and find off London Road, then on to Durranhill. I’ve never been out in that direction. It’s quite close to the motorway so must be in the general direction of Tesco. If I had a car I’d go for a drive round when she was at work. It looks too far to walk so one day soon, I’ll catch the very same bus! That was a satisfactory piece of research. I settle down to await the judges’ comments and the audience vote. I don’t know why I enjoy these programmes as I am not interested in music or dance. It must be the ritual humiliation.

  Monday 12th October 2009

  Life in the cash office is quite dull without Maureen to bait. It also has a good atmosphere. Everyone does what they have to, chats occasionally and it’s altogether more relaxed. We take our breaks separately as there are fewer of us working more hours than usual. That suits me better. I still haven’t given enough thought as to how my husband died. Falling down the stairs is my preferred story – because he wouldn’t eat the poisoned mushrooms – but I had better not joke about it. I think an unexpected heart attack is least controversial. I can say that he was a bit older than me. I had better tie it in with leaving Hexham as well. I needed a fresh start but it isn’t as easy as I thought it was going to be. I need a lot of time to get used to it. As I ponder over the details, should any be needed, I see Ken approaching. Oh, no! I’m not ready for a date yet.

  ‘Judith! What I was thinking the other day, you remember, was that as we’re both on our own maybe we could go out for a drink one night, or a meal, or to the cinema. What do you think?’

  I am tempted to say that he has no idea whether or not I am on my own, then remember that he has probably heard about my dead husband.

  ‘I’m on an early finish today. How about tonight?’

  ‘Sorry Ken. I would like to go out sometime but I’m busy on Monday evenings.’

  He has to go back to work but says, ‘Yes, let’s do it,’ and fairly skips through the door.

  Monday night is Spanish night. Nothing will interfere with that. I make sure I am outside in plenty of time, and then hang around until I see Joanna walking along the road. She’s dressed in black so I guess that she’s come straight from work. I make out that I have just got there too and we walk into the building together and sit together. The teacher mixes us up for conversation practice but I have a base next to her. We practice what we learned last week and laugh at our pronunciation of the words. Senor Rossi comes along and gently corrects us, praising wildly when we get it right. At coffee break someone suggests going for a drink. I say I would love to but have to be at work early in the morning. She says she would love to but has to get home for the babysitter. She asks where I work and I ask how old her children are at the same time.

  ‘Usted puede pedir a los demás que en español,’ says Senor Rossi, so we laugh and try it again in Spanish.

  So she has one four-year-old boy who has started going to school three half-days a week. Her mother usually babysits but she is out with friends tonight. I tell her that I work in the cash office at Cost-Save and leave it at that. The less she knows about me the better. This is a fresh start. What’s gone is gone and we are where we are.

  Wednesday 14th October 2009

  I walk into town at lunch ti
me and check that Joanna is at Cafe Bar Sierra. She is, so I walk on to The Crescent to await the No. 76. It arrives at 12.45 as promised in the timetable and ambles its way along London Road until its turning to the next stop. Twenty minutes later we arrive at Cumrew Close where we go round in a loop and head back for the town centre. A satisfactory trip and I decide to reward myself with Penne Carbonara for lunch. I know she will be busy but that’s fine. Another piece of the jigsaw fits into place.

  Friday 16th October 2009

  This week is flying past. So much seems to be happening at the moment that I need to keep my eye on. My web of deceit is taking a lot of concentration. I must get all my stories straight so that I don’t forget who knows what. Anita asked me today how long I had ‘been on my own’ and I went for nearly two years. That makes my prospective friendship with Ken acceptable. Maureen will be fed up because she can’t have him and the others will say how nice it is after all this time that I have found someone I like to go out with. From Ken’s point of view I can use it as an excuse for it still being too soon for a serious relationship, and when Joanna gets round to finding out she will understand why I don’t like going back to Hexham; too many associations. Anita asks me if I have made friends in Carlisle and I say yes, I know quite a lot of people now. Well, I do know quite a lot of people; I just wouldn’t call them friends. When Sal comes back from her lunch break, Anita and I are talking about X-Factor and how bad some of the hopefuls were. She joins in and we all share the laughing. Oh, if Maureen could see me now! I laugh a bit more, pretending I am still thinking about the fat girl whose dad makes her dresses.

  I go for lunch dreading Ken coming in to press me for a date. I am really not ready for this yet but he is central to my plan for Maureen. He pops in to the canteen but it is to apologise to me. He is going away for a holiday with the lads. It seems they are keen golfers and it is a cheap time to go to Spain and they have the golf courses virtually to themselves. No kids running around, empty roads but enough bars and restaurants still open so they don’t have to cook. Apart from the golf bit, I think it sounds rather good. I decide it’s time that I give something to this conversation, well, and the relationship.