Judith Wants To Be Your Friend

by Annie Weir

  ‘Soon,’ says my mother. ‘It will be lunch time soon.’

  ‘So I gather,’ I say wearily as one of the hearty women approaches us.

  ‘Oh Mrs. Dillon, have you got a visitor?’ she asks.

  ‘It’s you!’ she croaks at first, then gets louder, ‘It’s her!’ She backs away and continues shouting, ‘What’s she doing here? She’s come back!’ then rushes from the room and bumps into Tina who has come to see what all the noise it about.

  ‘Shelly, you’re early, go and wait in my office.’

  Shelly continues to stand in the doorway staring at me. Her face has gone a worrying shade of red and tears start to jerk from her eyes as she goes back to choking. ‘She’s come back.’

  ‘She’s only here for a visit, and she’s going now. Shelly, I said go and wait in my office.’

  Shelly does as she is told, although we can hear her sobbing to her colleague that I am here. I stand up to leave. My mother goes back to holding hands with Mr. Leith who looks at her and nods. Tina escorts me to the door.

  ‘I don’t think it’s a good idea, just turning up like that. Some of my staff are still very upset about the, well, you know, the incident.’

  ‘So I see. Don’t worry, I won’t be visiting again.’

  ‘That’s not what I said, Judith.’ But Tina is talking to my back as I walk towards the door and my hire car, and I don’t respond.

  Thursday 10th December 2009

  I drive to Joanna’s house for the appointed time of ten o’clock so that she can go shopping for Ricky’s Christmas presents. She’s all ready to go and catch the bus, and Ricky is ready with books to read and DVDs to watch. He has our morning’s entertainment planned out. That’s good. It saves me thinking of ideas to keep a four-year-old occupied.

  She sighs, and says, ‘Go and sit down Ricky,’ and to me, ‘I’m sorry Judith but he wasn’t feeling well in the night. He’s had a bit of a fever and I think he might be going down with what I had. I don’t know why, a month later; maybe it’s something he picked up from my friend’s little boy at the weekend. He’ll either be a complete pain or very quiet and sleepy.’

  ‘I’ll cope,’ I say more confidently than I feel. I hope it’s the sleepy option. ‘You go and do your shopping. We’ll be fine.’

  ‘OK, thanks. I’ll be back at lunch time. I’ll get some lunch for us on my way back. Better go. The bus will be here any minute.’ She kisses Ricky and dashes down the lane into Cumrew Close where the bus loops round to go back to Carlisle city centre.

  Ricky is under the weather and seems happy to sit next to me on the settee while I read one book after another. When we get to the end of all he had brought out, he hands me the first one again. I start to read it and vary some of the words and rhymes.

  He looks up sharply. ‘Judith, that isn’t what the bear says,’ he corrects me. I wish children wouldn’t do that. If they know the stories, why can’t they just read to themselves?

  ‘I thought it would be funny if he said something different this time,’ I say.

  He slumps against me, shakes his head and closes his eyes.

  ‘Do you want to go for a little sleep?’

  He shakes his head again and tries to keep his eyes open.

  ‘How about if you lay on your bed and I’ll read to you?’

  He nods and I carry him upstairs. For a little thing, he seems to weigh about a ton. He’s quite hot too. He kicks his slippers off, lays his head on the pillow and before I finish the book he is asleep. Well, he appears to be asleep. I read to the end, just in case, then creep back downstairs.

  I make a coffee. I know where all that stuff is from last time I was here babysitting. I tidy up the books and realise that I didn’t bring my book. I didn’t think I’d get a chance to read it, not getting the bus, and thinking Ricky would keep me busy.

  I look around the room. I study the pictures on the wall; nothing original but quite nice. I wouldn’t have picked them myself. I prefer the sea to mountains, and I prefer real paintings to prints. I look at what books she’s got and I’m surprised to see some textbooks on marketing among the usual suspects of best sellers. I wonder why she has marketing books. I look in the top drawer of the dresser and see letters to and from the Open University; offers of a place on the course, dates of summer school, invoices. I knew Open University courses weren’t cheap but I am very surprised at what she’s paying. That cafe job must pay more than I thought. I flick through some assignments and read the feedback from her tutor. I think it is a bit harsh in places but overall quite fair.

  I look down through the files and papers to see what else the tutor says about her. Nothing else, but there are some photographs tucked into an envelope. I pull them out and have a look through. It’s her and Ricky, I would say about a year ago; ah yes there’s a date on the back: August 2008. I can’t help thinking that August 2008 was the last time my life was anything like normal but even by then Alison had gone down to London to live. I continue looking through then see a picture of her and a man. It’s not a good picture in that it’s sideways a bit, and most of Joanna is chopped off, but I guess that Ricky took it and that’s why they’re both laughing. There’s another one of the three of them which looks for all the world like a happy family holiday snap. I wonder whether Gaynor took it or whether Joanna asked a passing stranger in the way that people do these days. I wonder where he is now. He could be Ricky’s dad; he wouldn’t need to have red hair and freckles as well. I suppose if he were around she would have mentioned him. Well, we certainly don’t need him so good riddance. I think about hiding the two pictures with him in them but instead I jump as the door opens. I try to slide everything back into place but I’m not quick enough. Bugger! This is why I am always prepared; I hate anything happening unexpectedly.

  ‘Judith, what are you doing?’ Gaynor is clearly not happy. She stands and waits for an answer. That’s my trick, being silent until the other person speaks. I remain silent while I try to think of something plausible to say.

  ‘I was looking for where Ricky’s books are stored so that I could tidy up before Joanna gets back.’ I know it sounds pathetic but I’m not good at thinking on my feet.

  ‘Oh, really?’ She’s put her bags down and is standing with her hands on her hips. God, she isn’t my mother.

  ‘Yes, really.’

  ‘It didn’t look like that to me.’

  ‘Well, that’s how it was. Where do they live? I’ll put them away now.’

  She suddenly realises that Ricky isn’t in the room and that he is very quiet. She looks around.

  ‘Don’t worry, Gaynor,’ I say in my best soothing voice, ‘he wasn’t feeling too well so I carried him up to his bed. He was asleep within a few minutes.’

  ‘Oh, poor Ricky,’ she said, seemingly forgetting me for a moment. She ran upstairs to see if he was alright.

  Joanna arrives home at that moment. It was probably the best time, with Gaynor being distracted. She comes back down the stairs and Joanna asks if she can take Ricky’s presents round to her house to hide until Christmas. She offers to take them with her now and leaves us, casting me a ‘look’ as she leaves.

  I decide to pre-empt the conversation Joanna will have with her mother later. ‘I was looking for where Ricky’s books live. I’m afraid Gaynor found me opening drawers in the dresser.’

  ‘Oh, you were close; we keep them in a box in the cupboard underneath. That way he can get them out and put them away himself.’

  ‘That is actually quite logical now that you point it out,’ I laugh. ‘You can tell I haven’t had children of my own.’

  ‘You soon rearrange everything,’ she says, clearly not bothered that I had seen in the drawer. ‘I’ve got soup and bread for lunch. Is that OK? The bread was hot from the bakery. I’ll just pop up and see Ricky before I prepare it.’

&nbs
p; ‘I’ll put the soup on,’ I say as she goes upstairs to see her poorly son. It seems that he has woken up and she carries him down as though he weighs nothing at all. He joins us for lunch, a subdued little boy for a change. I think I like him better like this.

  ‘Did you have a nice time with Judith?’ she asks him.

  He nods.

  ‘Did you watch a DVD?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Read books,’ he says quietly.

  After something to eat, he perks up a bit. ‘Judith didn’t read the Mr. Bear book properly,’ he says with a cheeky look in my direction. ‘She made him say the wrong things.’

  ‘No wonder you went to sleep then,’ Joanna says, ‘if Judith can’t read properly.’

  He starts to giggle at my silliness and all is back to normal. I stay for coffee then leave mother and son together. That was enough childcare for me for one day even though he was asleep for most of the time.

  As I drive back to the car hire place, I remember that I didn’t ask her about the marketing course.

  Monday 14th December 2009

  The atmosphere in the cash office has just about got back to normal although the ten pound note hasn’t been found yet. Well, I say it’s back to normal, but Maureen has a bit of a haunted look about her as though she’s lost the plot. It’s not surprising I suppose as she hasn’t actually made any mistakes. The other staff are being jolly and arranging a night out before Christmas. The evenings are so busy now that I wonder how anyone will have the energy to go for a drink after work, especially as the store is now staying open until ten every night. Ah, my mistake, we close earlier on Sundays. There I go again, saying ‘we’. They all agree that this coming Sunday will be the only time we can all go. I can’t think of much worse than spending the evening with Maureen socially. It’s bad enough in here where we don’t need to talk much. Anita and Sal are trying to persuade me when Ken comes in to sign the banking. Oh, that terrible time of day when Maureen dreads her cash being short. She doesn’t need to worry, at least until after Christmas. It will all be fine until January. I’ll decide then what to do.

  ‘Go on, Judith, say you’ll come with us,’ says Anita.

  ‘Where are you all going?’ asks Ken, ‘Christmas drinks?’

  ‘Yes. Le Gall probably. It’s quite central for everyone getting home.’

  ‘We’ve been there, haven’t we Judith?’ Ken twinkles.

  OK, any excuse to wind Maureen up. ‘Yes, it was good wasn’t it?’ I smile back at him as I continue working.

  ‘You should go out with them. I usually call in for a quick one when this lot are out. They’re quite different when under the influence.’

  ‘You cheeky thing!’ Anita pretends to be shocked, but everyone knows she loves to get away from her family from time to time, and really lets her hair down. ‘What about you, anyway?’

  ‘What about me? I’m always the perfect gentleman, aren’t I, Judith?’

  ‘Judith hasn’t seen you after six pints then!’

  ‘No she has not, and neither have you, actually. I just pretend to be merry to save you any embarrassment.’

  ‘Any chance we can get on?’ says Maureen, clearly not happy about being left out of the conversation with Ken.

  ‘Sorry Maureen,’ we all say at about the same time, then burst out laughing. It is just one of those moments.

  When he’s finished checking and signing the banking, Ken turns to me and says, ‘Are you going to Spanish class tonight?’

  That raises a few eyebrows.

  ‘Yes,’ I say, ‘it’s the last one of this term.’

  ‘Have fun,’ he says as he leaves the cash office. The smell of his aftershave stays with us for a little while longer.

  Maureen decides to join in the conversation at this point, presumably now the stress of the banking is over. ‘Do you go to Spanish classes, Judith?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say, and leave it at that.

  Spanish is fun tonight. Senor Rossi brings in some Spanish wine and some tapas. We are not allowed to have any until we ask for it correctly. Then we ask each other what we are doing for Christmas. I have been dreading this bit and consider lying and saying I am going to see my mother in Hexham but I have enough lies to cope with already so I tell the truth and say I am staying in Carlisle on my own. I am actually talking to someone else at the time but I get the feeling that Joanna overhears.

  After the class, which finishes a bit earlier than usual, we all go to the pub for a quick drink. She sits next to me and looks at me very seriously.

  ‘Are you really spending Christmas on your own?’

  ‘Yes. My mother isn’t well enough for visitors. I would like to see her, of course, but the manager of the care home says it’s quite difficult when I go.’

  ‘That is so sad. What about your sister?’

  ‘She and my niece are going away for a few days. The stress of my mum is getting too much for Fiona again and Rosie has insisted.’ Nobody’s going to find out that lie. I just need to remember it to tell the people at work if they ask. Ken’s bound to ask, and Anita. I suddenly realise that Joanna has asked me something. It’s OK because she’ll think I am thinking longingly about family Christmases. ‘Sorry, Joanna. I was sort of miles away there.’

  ‘Yes I could see that. Look, I know it’s no substitute but would you like to come and have Christmas lunch with us?’

  ‘Oh, Joanna, I couldn’t. But thank you for asking.’

  ‘Of course you can. Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s your family time. I wouldn’t want to intrude.’

  ‘It will be just like every Sunday. My mum will come round, Ricky will be hyper, she’ll get tired of him and come and take over the cooking from me then we’ll sit down and eat. Please come. It will be so good for us; and Ricky really likes you.’

  ‘Does he?’

  ‘Yes, of course, why wouldn’t he?’

  ‘I never think I’m particularly good with children.’

  ‘Oh stop it. You make him giggle all the time. That’s a brilliant gift to have with children. Please say you’ll come. Please.’

  ‘You’d better check with your mum first.’

  ‘Nonsense. Now, will you come for Christmas dinner?’

  ‘Yes, thank you, Joanna. I will.’

  Someone says they will have to go for their bus soon and could we have one chorus of ‘Viva Espana’. I personally think this is ghastly, but I’m learning to join in. Soon everyone in the pub is singing along with us, and it’s actually quite funny, and fun. There is fun to be had in Carlisle after all.

  Sunday 20th December 2009

  This was such a bad idea, leaving cash office Christmas drinks until now, and especially as the weather is so bad. Le Gall is packed and probably has been for hours. Nearly everyone is drunk and will be slipping and sliding around when they leave. Well, we’re not drunk, the ones who have come straight from work. Sal is already here because she worked the morning shift, and she’s bought two bottles of wine to get us started and has managed to wedge herself into the corner of the upstairs area and capture a couple of chairs between what will be eight of us, and half the table which she has filled with the wine glasses.

  ‘I got these in while I could get to the bar,’ she says. ‘Come on, get stuck in. Red or white, Judith?’

  I’m very fussy about which white wine I drink so decide to stick with red. It’s more forgiving, especially as it’s quite hot in here and the white will soon reach room temperature. Actually, the way the others are knocking it back, maybe it won’t get the chance. I pick up the white to read the label. Chardonnay; yuk.

  ‘Are you an expert, Judith?’

  ‘No, not at all,’ I say, then remember Anita’s favourite phrase, ‘but I know what I like.’

  ‘Yes,’ she says, not realisin
g that I am taking the mick. ‘That’s the main thing, knowing what you like.’

  Maureen is getting into the spirit. She’s on late shift tomorrow so she can have a lie in. ‘Are we getting more wine? A tenner each in the kitty should do it.’

  Everyone reaches for their purses to put a ten pound note into the pot.

  ‘How much have you spent already, Sal?’ she asks. God, she always has to be in charge, and she makes sure Sal is reimbursed for the first two bottles before anyone is allowed to fight their way to the bar to buy another two.

  ‘I’ll go for them again,’ says Sal. ‘I know the barman and I’ll get served quicker than you lot.’ Tall and slim with her long dark hair loose around her shoulders instead of being tied back, she weaves her way through the crowd to the top of the stairs and bumps into Ken who is on his way up with a bottle of each. He waves them in her direction, which she acknowledges but goes to get some more anyway. My God, the early shift is looking difficult for tomorrow.

  Ken eases his way round to where I’m standing. Maureen intercepts him.

  ‘Hi Ken,’ she sort of shouts over the sound of the music, her hair glowing eerily under the one bright light.

  He’s a nice guy and stops for a while to speak to her. She half watches me to see whether it’s making me cross, which it isn’t because he’s half watching me as well as he tries to escape. I do like him but he just isn’t grown-up enough for me. He’s two years younger which isn’t much when you reach middle thirties, but he just hasn’t been very far or done much. I think he’s worked for Cost-Save since he left school; actually I think he started there while he was at school. He’s been offered several promotions but that means moving away from Carlisle, which he won’t do. He’s back living with his parents as well. I think that’s weird but he says it’s while he does up a house. It’s easier for me; at least he never invites me back to his place after we’ve been to the pictures and I never invite him back to mine. I think he is too much of a gentleman to ask. Eventually he squeezes past her and sidles round our tiny table to where I’m leaning.