by Annie Weir
‘You don’t look like you’re enjoying yourself much, Judith,’ he says.
How observant of the dear man; I hate these mad, bingey, girly, noisy, hot nights out. ‘I’m feeling a bit woozy,’ I say back.
‘Shall we go outside for some air? It’s pretty damned cold outside though.’
‘Yes, please. I think I’d prefer the cold.’
I tell Anita that I’m feeling a bit faint and going outside for a while. Apart from that we don’t say anything to anyone. I don’t mind what they think or say because it will make Maureen crosser than ever. I have no intention of going back in there, and don’t. Ken and I buy take-away coffees in cardboard cups and go for a little walk. He offers to see me home but I insist that I can catch the bus so he walks me down to West Tower Street instead and it is only a few minutes before the bus comes. I leap on before he can try to kiss me goodnight. I have no idea whether he will go back to the party but I suspect not. I don’t really care one way or the other. The bus makes it up the hill alright, thank God, despite the icy road.
Monday 21st December 2009
Well, it’s lucky one of us left the bar at a reasonable hour and reasonably sober. I think the others put my smug look down to whatever Ken and I got up to after we left. I know it’s because I’m not tired and I haven’t got a headache. Maureen looks terrible when she comes in at two. For once she doesn’t interfere when I take control in the cash office and I make sure everything’s done in my last hour before I finish at three.
I am twiddling my thumbs in the ten minutes before I finish and start to think about Christmas Day. I was planning to do my shopping before leaving the store today but I have realised that I haven’t checked with Joanna to see what food I can contribute to the lunch at her house. I know she’s working today so think I will walk into town and ask her in person. That means I’ll have to come back here tomorrow to do my shopping on my only day off. That’s OK. Not much else to do. I suppose I will have to buy something for her and Gaynor as well so perhaps a trip to town today is a better plan.
Sal and Kirsty arrive for the late shift. Sal is looking a bit worse for wear but enjoying it.
‘Oh I feel terrible! Where did you get to last night, Judith?’
‘Wouldn’t you like to know?’ I say as I leave.
I walk home for a quick shower and change before heading into town. I order a latte at Cafe Bar Sierra and wait until Joanna has a few minutes respite from the queue of shoppers needing to sit down before they drop. After about twenty minutes she joins me at my table.
‘So, what can I contribute to lunch on Friday?’ I ask.
‘Nothing, really. It’s all sorted.’
‘You must let me bring something. A starter? A sweet? Wine? Brandy?’
‘Well, my mum’s partial to a drop of brandy after dinner,’ she laughs. ‘OK, a starter then if you really want to. You don’t have to.’
We agree on avocado and Palma ham although Ricky won’t like it, but there’ll be plenty for him. I decide on some sparkling wine to celebrate Christmas and brandy as a present for Gaynor. I can get all that at work and as I walk back towards the underpass I see Waterstones and remember the marketing assignment I read in her drawer about iconic designs. It came across as a passion of hers and although we haven’t discussed it, I decide to look for a book about design for her present. I find one, buy a book for Ricky, a couple for myself then walk down Castle Street to the wonderful, huge second-hand book shop, which I know will keep me occupied until it closes. As I approach, it closes. I cannot believe how the time has flown today. Never mind, I can come back. Time is something I’m not short of.
Friday 25th December 2009
I don’t know why people go on about waking up alone on Christmas morning. I think it’s alright. I stay in bed reading one of the books I bought in Waterstones, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I like it; it’s complicated with the huge family tree to work through but it keeps me interested. I am much more intrigued by the girl with the tattoo than with the family. I’ve ordered a taxi for twelve o’clock so I have loads of time to lie in then to shower and get ready. I think about calling my sister to say Happy Christmas but chicken out, and there is no point at all in ringing Mill View.
The taxi is on time and drops me off at about ten past twelve. Carlisle is rather nice without any traffic. Joanna had asked me to stay for tea as well as lunch but I don’t want to outstay my welcome so I confirm with the driver to pick me up at four-thirty. I am sure that will be enough for all of us. They say Christmas Day is one of the most stressful of the year. We’ll see; hopefully not this one.
I feel like a sort of Santa walking up the path with presents for Joanna and her family, and Ricky opens the door for me before I get close enough to ring the bell.
‘Happy Christmas, Judith,’ he shouts then runs outside and pushes me in through the door from behind. Good God! I think I preferred the shy little boy who wouldn’t speak for ages. Well, maybe not. It’s quite sweet really, and welcoming in a weird sort of way. He shuts the door behind us and shouts, ‘Maaaaaam! Judith’s here.’
I hate that northern thing of calling mothers ‘mam’; we always said ‘mum’ but then my mother was always trying to rip us from our northern roots. It’s no wonder I don’t know who I am.
‘So I see. Happy Christmas, Judith. Come in and sit down. Gaynor will be here in a minute and I’ll do us all a drink then. She’s on her way now. Ricky, please will you put Joanna’s coat in my bedroom.’
I take off my coat and hand it to Ricky, then take the wine and the ingredients for the starters through to the kitchen. Joanna insists that I don’t need to prepare them so I go and sit down in the sitting room with the presents. Gaynor arrives at the same time. Ricky is bursting to know what is in the presents but he has to take his Nana’s coat up to the bedroom first. She greets me pleasantly enough. Perhaps she has forgotten about catching me rifling through the drawers of the dresser. She goes through to the kitchen and Joanna gives her the job of pouring drinks. We all get wine and Ricky gets Coke in a wine glass. We chink glasses. I sip the wine. It’s lovely but then I chose ones I like. Gaynor seems to down hers in one which surprises me a bit. I never had her down as a drinker.
‘What’s in your presents?’ asks Ricky.
‘They’re not my presents,’ I tell him.
‘They are. You bought them.’
‘Brought them,’ Gaynor corrects him automatically.
‘Bought and brought, actually,’ I say, ‘but they’re still not mine.’
‘Whose are they then?’
‘Well, that one’s for you,’ I say as I hand over the largest box.
He grabs it, but before he can unwrap it Joanna looks at him sternly.
‘Thank you, Judith,’ he says seriously.
‘You’re very welcome. I hope you like it,’ I say back, and he sets to tearing off the paper. Inside is a train set which needs to be put together then the train can go round in figures of eight. It is a great success, thank God.
He looks up, beaming. ‘I do like it,’ he says and starts to work out what to do with it.
So far, so good. I hand Gaynor an envelope. I decided against the brandy and went for something more imaginative. She is always well-groomed but never seems to have any time for herself so I bought her a manicure at the new nail bar that has opened down near Debenhams. She is clearly touched and delighted, and I think she is softening a bit. She tops up our glasses although I have hardly touched mine.
‘Drink up, Judith.’
‘I will. We’ve got a bit to get through. I brought some to have with lunch as well.’
‘Did you get Mam a present?’ asks Ricky suddenly not wanting his mother to feel left out.
‘Of course. It’s here. Do you want to pass it over to her?’
He takes it off me. He can see i
t’s a book, as we all can. Joanna opens it and her eyes open in delight.
‘Judith, that is a perfect present for me,’ she says, ‘but how did you know to get this?’
Ah, a sticky moment I hadn’t anticipated. Gaynor misses the connection between the drawer incident and the book of iconic designs of the twentieth century and I feel I have got away with it. ‘I noticed the marketing books on the shelf when I was here babysitting. I thought you must have an interest in it.’
‘You are so clever. That is perfect. Thank you. Here’s mine to you.’ She hands me what is also clearly a book. It is a book about Spain.
‘That’s perfect too, thank you so much,’ I say and actually mean it. So far this is much better than the Christmas charade of pretending you like what people give. ‘The photos are stunning.’
Gaynor tops us up again, and once again urges me to drink up. I’m going to have to find a convenient plant to pour it into if she keeps pressurising me like this. I like a drink as much as the next person, and indeed I have a couple of bottles back at my half-house for later today and for tomorrow. I just don’t like drinking too much with people I don’t know very well. Joanna goes through to the kitchen to check on lunch and Gaynor goes to find another bottle so I look around. The big cheese plant by the window is my only hope. It’s big enough to withstand a couple of glasses in with the Baby Bio so I wander over to the window and surreptitiously pour most of my glass of wine into it. When Gaynor comes back in with the new bottle, she seems pleased that I am joining in and drinking up. She refills my glass.
‘There’s one present left, Judith,’ says Ricky without looking up from the train set which he has laid out right next to the door to the kitchen.
‘Yes, I know.’
‘Who is it for?’
‘Wait and see.’
‘How long do I have to wait?’
‘I don’t know yet.’
Who does know? My mam?’
‘No. Nobody knows yet.’
‘Who will know when it’s time?’
‘I will.’
‘You will, but you don’t know yet?’
‘No. Not yet.’
He gives me one of his funny sideways looks that precede a fit of giggles. I laugh with him. He really is quite a funny little chap.
‘Lunch is nearly ready,’ his mother’s voice floats in from the kitchen.
‘I’ll come and give you a hand,’ says Gaynor and leaves Ricky and me giggling on the floor by the new train.
Lunch is lovely. The avocados and Palma ham that I bought are cool and refreshing and ideal before the full roast turkey meal with all the trimmings. We all eat happily with Gaynor continuing to top up glasses. Joanna doesn’t seem to notice; perhaps she always drinks a lot. I continue to sip and she tops me up with a thimble-full each round while pouring herself a full glass each time. Joanna’s somewhere in between. We decide to have a break before moving on to the sweet, and she allows Ricky to go and play for a while. She potters around the kitchen tidying up ready for the big dish-washing later on.
‘So,’ says Gaynor to me apropos nothing at all, ‘you’re a widow, are you, Judith?’
How does she know my cover story? I can’t remember telling anyone here but I suppose I must have. I have rehearsed it now so I feel quite comfortable talking about the basics then looking a bit sad so people don’t press for more details. ‘Yes,’ I say.
‘How long ago did he die?’
‘It’ll be two years in March,’ I lie easily.
‘How did he die?’
‘Mother! Stop this at once,’ Joanna orders from the kitchen sink.
‘Well?’ She doesn’t give up.
‘A heart attack,’ I sort of sigh. That usually works to stop Anita asking any more.
‘Did you live round here?’
‘No, I’ve only been here since April last year. I travelled around a bit when I left Hexham then didn’t want to go back there to live.’
‘I can understand that,’ Joanna joins in, ‘there must have been so many associations.’
‘Yes, exactly,’ I say.
‘What’s wrong with that? I’m a widow and I still live here.’
‘Well I didn’t want to. I tried but I had to get away.’ I do my sad faraway look. Really, this is becoming intrusive. I glance across to Joanna for support.
‘Everyone’s different, Mam,’ she says. ‘You know that. Let’s leave it for now.’
I smile at her gratefully, and excuse myself to go to the bathroom so that she can give her mother a good telling-off. Ricky hijacks me on the way back so hopefully that is the dead husband conversation finished with. I sit on the floor with him for a while and play with the new train until we hear Joanna call.
‘Anyone ready for pud?’
‘Yeah, yeah, yeah,’ shouts Ricky and abandons our game as he runs through to sit down for the sweet. When she sets fire to the Christmas pudding, his eyes grow wide in part-excitement and part-alarm but as soon as the flames go out he claps his hands and demands that she does it again.
‘Oh, no. You’ll have to wait until next Christmas. Now, do you want cream on that or ice cream?’
‘Both,’ he says then realises his mistake as nothing happens. ‘Please,’ he adds.
I rather think that Gaynor is looking the worse for drinking over a bottle of wine. Her face is red and her words are starting to slur. Joanna takes the bottle off the table and won’t give it back when she protests.
‘Later, Mam. We’ll have some coffee then start again after a walk.’
‘So,’ she looks at me again, ‘you used to live in Hexham, did you?’
‘Yes I did.’
‘Do you miss it?’
‘Sometimes, but I’m starting to settle here.’
‘So you work in the cash office at Cost-Save, do you?’
‘Yes, I do.’ God, this is getting tedious.
‘Is that the sort of work you did in Hexham?’
‘Similar.’
‘What then?’
‘Mam,’ Joanna attempts to come to my rescue again, ‘I said stop it now.’
‘Well what did you do? Was it top secret?’
‘No, of course not. I worked in an accountancy practice.’
‘Oh, doing what?’
‘Mother!’ Joanna uses her Sunday voice again.
‘It’s ok,’ I say, ‘all sorts really.’ Well that is true considering I didn’t have any staff for a lot of the time after Kate left. ‘I even did some book keeping.’
‘Have you got family there?’
‘Yes, a mother, a sister and a niece.’
‘Why aren’t you there now then?’
‘Mother, that really is enough. If you can’t stop being so inquisitive, you can go home now.’
I sense a big family argument brewing and about to boil over. God knows I’ve known enough of them with my own family. I thought I was going to avoid it this year. I decide I have given Gaynor more than enough information, pissed old bat that she is. Ricky starts wriggling about in his chair.
‘Did you mention a walk before, Joanna?’ I ask. ‘Maybe we should go now while it’s still light and have coffee when we get back.’
‘Good idea,’ she says. ‘Ricky, there’s a job you can do. Go and get everybody’s coats, please.’
He’s glad of something to do and does as he is told. Gaynor refuses to come with us so Joanna, Ricky and I walk to the small play area and sit on the bench while Ricky wears himself out.
‘Sorry about my mam,’ she says. ‘She’s suspicious of people.’
‘Is that all it is?’ I test the water a bit.
‘Yes, really. I was quite friendly with someone last year and he went away to work. I was upset so now she wants it to be jus
t the three of us for family occasions.’
Right on cue, Ricky falls over and starts sobbing. The excitement of the day has suddenly overwhelmed him. We hold one hand each and swing him home.
‘I think this is time for you to open my last present, Ricky,’ I say as we get into the house.
Joanna looks at me as if to say, oh no, not more, not right now.
‘It’ll be fine,’ I say, ‘I’ll read to him until my taxi comes. It won’t be long.’
‘OK, that’ll settle him down, actually. I’ll make us all a coffee.’
Gaynor has gone home leaving a note to say that she feels rough. I should jolly well think she does.
Back at the bijou half-house, I open a bottle of Pinot Grigio, my treat for myself, pour a huge glassful and settle down with my book. I struggle to concentrate, though, and have to keep reading the same pages over and over again. Gaynor is really bothering me. What was all that questioning about? It can’t be just because she saw me looking in the drawer of the dresser.
I pick up the phone to ring Fiona. I do that thing that means the other person can’t find out where you’re calling from and dial her number. It rings and rings, and eventually switches to the answering machine. I hesitate then say, ‘Hi Fi, hi Rosie. It’s me. I’ve just called to say Happy Christmas. I hope you’ve had a good day.’
I imagine them in my mother’s house listening to my voice as I leave the message. I don’t blame them for not picking up. I don’t even want to speak to them; I just wanted to have some contact for a brief moment.
Chapter 8
Hexham,December 2008
Monday 1st December 2008
Mrs. Henson settled herself in the cafe at Robb’s Department Store and waited for her companion to finish looking at the menu.
‘Tea and scones, I think,’ he said, ‘same for you?’
‘Yes please,’ she replied and waited for him to order their tea then to ask about the purpose of this meeting. He was far too polite to get straight to the point.