Wonder Women

by Fiore, Rosie

  ‘My favourite. How did you know?’

  ‘You ordered one when we had coffee ages ago, that time I was looking after the kids when Jo went on her business course,’ Lee said. ‘I remembered you liked them.’

  She stared at him like he was an alien who had emerged from his spaceship and come to sit on her bench. ‘You remember that? It was months ago. Maybe a year?’

  ‘Was it?’ Lee said, a little embarrassed.

  ‘You’re the only man I’ve ever met who would notice stuff like that,’ said Miranda. ‘I’ve been married to Paul for twelve years. I don’t think he could tell you what my favourite dessert was if you held a gun to his head.’

  Lee glanced at her, a little surprised at how bitter she sounded. In his limited experience Miranda had always been gushy, a bit superficial perhaps, but always sweetness and light.

  He sat quietly for another minute or so. Eventually, he said, ‘I’m sorry. What you’re going through, you and Holly, and your family … it must be so hard. How are you coping?’

  ‘Holly is being amazing,’ Miranda says. ‘She has it much harder than me. She’s there all the time with Mum, and it’s so difficult.’ She stopped short, as if she might have said more but had thought better of it.

  ‘It can’t be easy for any of you,’ said Lee gently.

  ‘I just wish I could do more,’ said Miranda. ‘I wish I could do anything. But every time I see Mum, I get so upset. She looks worse every time, even if it’s only a day or so since I last saw her.’ She took a sip of her coffee, and then the words started to spill out of her. ‘My time with her is so limited … I always have the kids to worry about, and getting someone to look after them while I drive to Ealing and spend time with Mum and drive back … I worry all the way there and all the way back and the whole time I’m there … what if they need me? What if I can’t get back in time? And then I feel bad, because I’m worrying about traffic on the North Circular, not giving Mum my full attention, and then there’s all the things I used to do … the groups I was in and the PTA at the school, and just running my own household … Paul’s dry-cleaning and shopping and cooking … and sometimes I let things slip and I feel bad about that too …’

  What the hell was Paul doing through all this? Lee found himself thinking. Was he moaning at his wife that she hadn’t collected his dry-cleaning while she tried to care for her dying mother and his children too? A tear brimmed over and slipped down her cheek. She turned away, mortified. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to go on at you. You barely know me. Now there’s another thing I can add to my list of things I’m doing wrong … ranting at strange men in the park.’

  Lee put his coffee down and grasped her hand and held it on the bench between them. ‘Okay, firstly, I’m not a strange man. Because of Jo and Holly, I do know what you’re going through and I asked you how you were doing. And secondly, you’re doing amazingly well. You’re doing everything you could possibly do, and more. Give yourself a break.’

  She looked down at her hand in his, and managed a little smile. ‘Thanks. That’s the nicest thing anyone has said to me in I don’t know how long.’ She gave his hand a little squeeze, then took her hand away and busied herself with getting a tissue out of her handbag. Lee looked up and saw that over by the swings there was a little cluster of women who had obviously been watching them. One leaned over and whispered to her friend. Fine, he thought. Let them gossip. If they were going to read evil intentions into him comforting a woman with a dying mother, then they needed to go and get themselves lives.

  22

  HOLLY NOW

  Things at home continued to be difficult, but manageable. Judith’s pain was better controlled, but she was very weak, and needed Holly on hand in case she needed to go to the toilet. Sometimes she even needed help to sit up in bed or roll over. Holly had never imagined she would care for another person’s intimate needs until she was a mother. If you’d asked her six months before how she would feel about helping her mum pull her pants up, or wash in the shower, she’d have been horrified. But it had to be done, and in a funny way, it seemed like the most loving thing she had ever done.

  Judith slept for long periods now, and often there wasn’t anything to do but sit there in case she woke up and wanted anything. Because she was on morphine, her dreams were very vivid and she was often a little confused. She’d wake with a start and say something seemingly random.

  ‘We can paint them terracotta!’ she once said brightly.

  ‘Paint what, Mum?’ asked Holly.

  ‘What?’ said Judith. ‘What are you talking about, Holly?’ And when Holly tried to explain that she was answering Judith, and asked more questions to see if she could find out what should be painted terracotta, Judith lay back on her pillows, and said angrily, ‘Well, I don’t know. I don’t know what needs painting, and what is terracotta anyway?’

  When she was awake and compos mentis, however, she wanted Holly to talk to her. She loved to hear about Holly’s time in South Africa, about the markets where she worked, and the homes and gardens. She was fascinated to hear that many people had swimming pools in their gardens.

  ‘My goodness,’ she said once, ‘It sounds as if the sun really does shine all the time there.’

  ‘Pretty much,’ said Holly. ‘You could probably wear a sundress and sandals for eight months of the year.’

  ‘Oh my, Holly,’ sighed Judith. ‘I do so wish I had come out to visit you when you were there.’

  ‘I wish you had too, Mum,’ said Holly. At the time, she hadn’t been surprised that Judith never made the trip, and she hadn’t missed her particularly. But when she thought about it now, she’d have loved to introduce her mum to some of her friends, take her shopping, widen her perspective. Judith seemed to have lived such a small life, and now it was too late to change that. It was no substitute, but Holly put together a slideshow of photos from her time in Johannesburg (edited to exclude any shots of Damon). She put it on her iPad and sat on the edge of Judith’s bed, her arm behind her mum’s thin shoulders, going through the pictures with her. Judith sighed at the landscapes, wanted to know all about Holly’s friends, and exclaimed with joy at the pictures of Holly’s Doradolla designs. It seemed to give her so much pleasure and pride. Why had Holly never done this before? For the life of her, she couldn’t imagine.

  It had been three weeks since she had last seen him, and Holly had not managed to have another date with Fraser. They had hoped to get together on the Sunday night after their first date, but Holly’s mum had come home from the hospice that day. Since then, fate seemed to be conspiring against them. Whenever Holly could snatch some time away from the house, Fraser was working, or had Finlay with him. It was very frustrating not seeing him, but the anticipation made Holly want him more, and she was enjoying getting to know him better through their phone and text conversations. There was no doubt that the heat between them was still very real; they spoke on the phone every day, and sent a lot of text messages in between. These started out flirtatious and ended up downright filthy. They even shared a few late-night phone-calls which left them both gasping and desperate to be together.

  Miranda helped with Judith as much as she could, but she could only manage a few hours on a weekday morning when her kids were at nursery and at the childminder’s. Holly toyed with the idea of asking her to come one evening to sit with their mum when the kids were asleep, but she would have to explain why, and she somehow didn’t think Miranda would be thrilled to mum-sit while she went out to shag a still-officially-married man.

  David was no help at all. He hadn’t even visited for the last few weeks. It wasn’t as if he didn’t care – he rang at least three times a week, and kept trying to buy things and pay for things, and he was always very willing to ring people in the care system and yell at them – but when he did come, he just didn’t know what to do. He seemed to find the sight of Judith intensely distressing, and he just couldn’t sit quietly beside her. He wanted to do things, to bustle around a
nd make things happen. Privately, Holly found it easier when he wasn’t there. His agitation was infectious and she found herself more focused on him than on Judith’s needs.

  Christopher Benton, true to his word, came by twice a week and worked in the garden. Holly had given him a key to the side gate, and he would quietly let himself in, mow the lawn, trim the edges, weed and tidy, and then let himself out. When Holly was in her mum’s bedroom and looked out of the window, she would see him working industriously and neatly. However, every now and then he would glance up at Judith’s window, his face full of yearning and concern. It seemed to Holly as if Judith was a princess locked in a tower, and he was a humble gardener without a hope of rescuing her. Or maybe Holly was over-romanticising the whole thing. Maybe he was just short-sighted. If Holly was there and not busy with Judith, she would go out and offer him a cup of tea. He would sometimes accept, but he would never come into the house. ‘Don’t want to track mud into your kitchen,’ he’d say, and even though Holly protested that she didn’t mind, he was adamant. She had told Judith a few times that Christopher was coming, but it didn’t seem to have sunk in.

  One day, however, Judith was slightly more alert and bright than she had been, and she asked to sit by the window. With a great deal of effort, they had got the enormous recliner up to her room, and it was a comfortable place for her to sit when she was up to it. She was enjoying the rays of spring sunshine on her face when Christopher started up the lawnmower outside. Judith opened her eyes and asked, ‘What was that?’

  ‘It’s Mr Benton, Mum. I told you he was coming to do the garden. He’s just mowing the lawn.’

  ‘Mr Benton?’

  ‘Christopher Benton? From your church?’

  ‘I know who he is,’ said Judith, a little impatiently. ‘Why hasn’t he come in to say hello to me?’

  Now there was a question Holly didn’t know how to answer. Should she mention what Mr Benton had said to her about him and Judith courting? And what about the fact that she had sent him packing? Was it better to play dumb and act as if he was just another friend from church? Holly decided to go for a fairly neutral approach.

  ‘I think he thought you might not be well enough to see him. He just wanted to do something to help.’

  ‘Ask him to come in. Please,’ said Judith.

  Holly couldn’t have been more surprised, but she was thrilled. She ran down the stairs and out of the kitchen door. ‘Mr Benton!’ she said. ‘My mum is a little better today, and she would love to see you.’

  ‘Oh no,’ he said, flustered. ‘I couldn’t possibly. I don’t want to intrude … the mud … I wouldn’t want to inconvenience …’

  ‘Mr Benton,’ said Holly, patiently but firmly, ‘she’s a bit better today’ – she leaned on the word ‘today’, so he would understand this improvement was very temporary – ‘and she’s asked for you, specifically. Please.’

  He fussed for a little while longer and then said he would go to the car to fetch his ‘house shoes’ and meet Holly at the back door.

  With all the fiddling and faddling and adjusting he did, carefully removing his wellies by the back door, stepping in in his socks, sitting on a kitchen chair (trouser twitch before he sat down), putting on his shoes, tying his laces in perfect bows, asking to use the bathroom so he could wash his hands and comb his hair – Holly was beginning to worry that Judith might have passed on before he was ready. Somehow, eventually, she got him up the stairs and tapped lightly on Judith’s door. They both popped their heads around the door, and it made Holly’s heart ache to see that Judith had also made a little effort while they had been gone. She had combed her hair as best she could, although it had thinned and got rather long, so it didn’t look as neat as it had always done before she got sick. She had also managed to put on a little lipstick and powder. She still looked deathly pale and her thinness was alarming, but she had a little colour and she managed a smile for Mr Benton.

  He was very good, Holly thought. He smiled warmly at Judith and looked for all the world as if he had come to a routine afternoon tea party. He didn’t allow himself to look shocked or sad at her appearance. He came over and took her hand, lightly holding her fingertips in a courtly, old-fashioned way, and inclined his head.

  ‘So sorry I can’t get up,’ Judith said.

  ‘Not at all,’ said Mr Benton. ‘It’s very good to see you, Judith.’

  ‘How have you been, Christopher?’ she said. ‘Do pull up a chair.’

  He looked around and drew the stool from Judith’s dressing table close to her chair. ‘Not too bad,’ he said. ‘Just been out in the garden. Your lupins are coming on a treat.’

  ‘Really?’ said Judith. ‘I’d have thought the snails would have got them.’

  ‘Ah, they might have, but I make up this spray myself … one part Fairy Liquid, three parts water, and a secret ingredient. Keeps the snails right away!’

  Judith managed a little laugh, the first one Holly had heard from her in months. ‘Ah, now, Christopher. You’ll have to tell me what the secret ingredient is. You can’t keep me in suspense!’

  Holly took a step or two back, towards the door. Neither of them seemed aware that she was there at all.

  ‘Er …’ she said softly, ‘I’ll go and make some tea, shall I?’ But they had moved on to the best ways to encourage tomato plants to flower, and didn’t hear her. She went downstairs slowly, and took her time making a pot of tea. When she crept back upstairs with it, she found Mr Benton quietly reading one of the classical-music reviews in The Times aloud to Judith. She put the tea tray down on the side table and slipped out again.

  He came every day after that, and his company made an enormous difference. Judith made the effort to be up and dressed to see him if she possibly could, and he paid her compliments and made her smile. If she was too tired to get out of bed, he would draw a chair up close and read to her until she fell asleep. Holly found it very touching to watch them together, and she wished with all her heart that Judith had not sent him away all those months ago. They had lost so much time, and she was happy to see her mum experiencing some affection, and – dare she call it that? – love, in these last months of her life. She remembered the stack of letters she had seen in her mum’s jewellery box. Were they love letters from Mr Benton? They must have been.

  *

  Holly wondered if there was any way Mr Benton might sit with her mum for an evening, so she could finally get out to see Fraser, but she didn’t know how to ask him. He saved her the bother however. On the Thursday afternoon, he came down to find her in the kitchen. ‘Oh, Holly,’ he said, deferentially, ‘I am so sorry to disturb you, but I was wondering whether you would mind my bringing a portable television here to put in Judith’s room?’

  Holly could have kicked herself. Why had she never thought of giving her mum a TV in the bedroom? ‘There’s no need to bring a portable one, Mr Benton. We could just move the set from the living room up to the bedroom. No one watches it downstairs.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ He looked very pleased. ‘Only I noticed they’re showing Brief Encounter on the television on Sunday evening, and it’s a film we – Judith and I – very much enjoyed watching together once before. I thought perhaps she might like to see it again. It wouldn’t inconvenience you for me to be here on a Sunday evening, would it?’

  ‘Oh no …’

  ‘I thought perhaps you might like to take the opportunity to go out … see some friends perhaps? I could cook Judith a light supper …’

  ‘That would be brilliant!’ Holly leapt on his offer with alacrity before he changed his mind. It was a win–win situation. The elderly lovebirds would get an evening to themselves, and she could see Fraser. ‘I’ll get the television moved upstairs this afternoon!’

  She ran to her room and sent Fraser a quick text message: ‘I’m a free agent on Sunday evening. I can’t stay out all night, but I’m sure we could get some things on our to-do list done in a few hours …’

  He rang her imm
ediately. ‘Oh my God, you mean I actually get to see you?’ he said excitedly.

  ‘All of me, baby, all of me,’ she giggled. He groaned at that.

  ‘I can’t wait. Listen, I’ve got Finlay for the weekend, but Lindsay’s due to collect him from mine at five on Sunday. Can you get to me by six? Can you be naked by five past? Can I kiss you all over?’

  ‘Yes, yes and yes. Can’t wait.’

  ‘Me neither,’ he said. ‘You have no idea.’

  She was nervous about leaving Judith, but her mum was very encouraging. ‘Go, have a nice time,’ she said, when Holly tentatively said she was going to see Fraser. ‘You’ve been stuck in this house day after day, looking after me. Christopher and I will watch the film and I’ll be asleep by nine, I’m sure.’

  Holly felt better after she said that, and she told herself that Mr Benton had her mobile number and she would be a twenty-minute drive away if she was needed. She was jittery and excited on the Sunday afternoon, and spent ages trying to choose what to wear. It didn’t seem to matter terribly much, as Fraser had made it clear that whatever she was wearing was going to end up on the floor as soon as she came through the door. In the end, she went for a simple white cotton dress, a pretty lacy bra and matching knickers. She showered, plucked and primped, and was ready by five, then paced up and down, her stomach full of butterflies.

  She checked her watch. Five thirty. If she drove slowly, she’d be at Fraser’s bang on time. But she didn’t need to worry about driving slowly, as it turned out. The traffic was appalling, and instead of getting there early, she began to worry she was going to be late. She was stuck for ages at a set of temporary traffic lights, and she grabbed her phone to let him know she was delayed, only to see that she had no signal at all. Well, she’d get there eventually. Luckily the traffic eased as soon as she got through the temporary lights, and she was outside Fraser’s by five past six. She parked and hurried to the door, trying not to look too flustered in case he was watching from the window. She pressed the bell, and he buzzed her straight in.