The WWW Club

by Anita Notaro

  He frowned. “So, what do we do? I tried everything pink in the house, tea towels, scrunchies, Brillo pads. How long do they keep these? Sam never bothered with one. When did you give yours up?”

  “Just before my twenty-first and then only because my father accidentally set it alight when he was doing the candles on the chocolate biscuit cake.” She grinned and tried to rescue Jess from under the table, where she was flattening poor Rashers and probably deafening him too. “I’ll get her dressed. You make a list of every place you visited yesterday and I’ll start phone-bashing as soon as I’ve dropped them off. This is an emergency, we may have to call in the FBI.”

  Thirty-two

  Pam called in sick, she just could not face another “do you not have any of the Sicilian artichokes, the ones in Bollinger champagne vinegar like they have in Morton’s?” day. She went back to bed as soon as the others had left and pulled the duvet so far up that she nearly suffocated. The only good thing was that she didn’t feel like eating, not even the Superquinn sausage sandwich that her friend Annie next door had tried to slip through the letter box, thinking Herr Toni was still in residence. She got up for the second time at 2 p.m. and drank black coffee and watched Judge Judy till ten to five, when the monsters rang. They were in FAO Schwarz.

  “Gee, Mom, it’s like so cool, I’m having a neat time,” Paul told her in his best Raheny meets Manhattan accent. Andrew tried hard to be chilled but only managed it until he got to telling her about the Empire State Building. She kept it together until they told her they had to fly cause they were having “eggs over easy” for brunch in a real New York diner on the corner of 52nd and then going to see Superman 12 or something, just like they would at home really. She bawled her eyes out, went back to bed and slept for fourteen hours.

  Maggie was having a lovely day. She’d met Doug for lunch—his treat—and he’d offered to pick her up from late-night shopping in Swords to save her two bus rides later. He’d also asked for her keys so that he could fix her leaky radiator and put a new plug on her bedside lamp. She felt loved and secure and best of all he had wanted hints on what she’d like for Christmas, and also what he should bring to her mother’s, which was more than generous. She was thrilled and planned to splash out on a designer jacket for him, all unsettling thoughts forgotten.

  Toni got a text from Gordon the grotesque.

  Champagne cocktail in the Merrion followed by oysters in Guilbaud’s then dessert in my apartment?

  It was almost covered in spits before it was erased. Four dozen blood-red roses had their heads cut off next, a bottle of Cristal was used to celebrate batty Myrtle’s ninety-ninth birthday, but a full-length, baby-wipe-soft leather coat did the trick. It was just that she missed him, although she wouldn’t have admitted it in a fit. They had sex in a doorway in the arch near the halfpenny bridge while the busker in residence had dinner with U2 or some other celebrity in the nearby Clarence Hotel, courtesy of G & T’S donation. Toni decided she’d been a little bit hasty in writing him off just because of what someone had said.

  Ellie, meanwhile, had lost about three pounds, she reckoned, retracing Jack’s steps around Dublin, inquiring about a filthy,half-eaten rag and offering several hundred thousand euros of Jack’s royalties as a reward. By the time she returned at five, he was ready to tear his hair out because she’d left him with the kids, and she had a blister the size of a gobstopper on her shin, so she wasn’t much better.

  “Any luck?”

  She shook her head in despair. He ran his fingers through his hair and it made him a dead ringer for Shakin’ Stevens. Sam had taken to geling his locks every morning this week and he kept forgetting. Now he looked like he’d been plugged in.

  “How is she?”

  “Not great. Kate came round with Sarah’s little teddy that she’s been trying to steal for years, but I caught her trying to blitz it in that food chopper thing, which luckily you’d disassembled.”

  Ellie made all Jess’s favorite bits for tea but nothing worked. She stayed late and gave the child a warm bath and then spent half an hour trying every other thing she could find to use as a security blanket. She was just making her way downstairs when she met Jack, on his way up because the crying had stopped and he couldn’t concentrate in the silence.

  “How did you get her to nod off?”

  “The only thing that worked was the belt of your dressing gown. She felt it for ages and then something clicked.”

  “The blue striped one?” She nodded absently. “You gave her the belt off my three-hundred-euro Christian Dior dressing gown?”

  “Serves you right for owning such a ridiculous luxury.”

  “Kate gave it to me for my birthday.”

  “So how do you know it cost three ton?”

  “She gave me the receipt because she thinks nothing she buys me is ever right.” They trooped downstairs together.

  “Thanks, Nora.” It wasn’t sarcastic.

  “Pleasure.”

  “Tea, coffee, glass of wine?”

  “Detox, remember?”

  “Ah.” He walked her toward the door. “Any chance I’ll get the thing back, do you think?”

  “Not while you’re still trim enough to fit into it, I’d say.”

  “Well, I’m going to try, but not tonight. Besides, I’ve just remembered she puts her feely in her ear at night, doesn’t she?” He made a face.

  “Not anymore.” She smiled like an angel. “This one’s up her nose. Nite nite.”

  The rest of the week was slower than a turtle race for Pam. She snapped the head off an old woman simply because she tried to use a “fifty cent off when you spend five euros on fruit and veg” coupon and her bill was only four euros ninety-eight, then ran after her, mortified, and tried to shove free carrots and lettuce in her bag. She spent hours on the Internet every evening, looking up facts and figures about New York, so she’d have something to talk to the boys about when they next rang, and she cleaned the house to within an inch of its life and prayed for a ring around the spotless bath again soon. The others minded her and called round for chats and for once none of them wanted to eat rubbish or drink alcohol—Pam had no appetite whatsoever, Toni was getting so much sex that she was too exhausted to eat, Maggie was desperately trying to fit into the new black catsuit she’d bought for Christmas day to impress Doug, and Ellie was run off her feet, with work, her mother’s endless Christmas lists and most of all with Olga Blake.

  “You’re going round there again tonight?” Pam was amazed. “What’s up with her?”

  “I don’t know. She just wants to talk, but it’s all a bit odd, to be honest. She keeps asking me if I’ll have any children, or if I’m going to marry Jack, or—”

  “Jack? Surly Jack?”

  “He’s not that bad, actually—”

  “You’re thinking of marrying him? Ellie, listen to me, this is not a good basis for a—”

  “No, I’m not thinking of marrying him, I’d give G & T one first and you know how I hate bouffant hairstyles.” They had no proof that Gordon had even a blade of hair on his head, it was all in their imagination, but they spent hours fantasizing about him. Impossible not to really when Toni described their love life in such detail.

  “He’s athletic, anyway, I’ll say that for him.” Pam was thinking of the time they’d had sex on the Luas line two minutes before the last tram was due in from Sandyford. Toni did a mean impersonation of him hitching up his Calvin Kleins and legging it as some driver shouted, “Hey you, ye dirty wanker” at him. Still Toni loved it, apparently.

  “Last time, Olga asked me if I thought children should be circumcized.”

  “And do you?”

  “Listen, I barely know how to spell the word.” She shook her head. “She just seems to want me around at the moment—lots of deep bonding going on, on her part anyway. I’m fine about it, it’s just, I could do without it in the run-up to Christmas. Mum wants to go shopping all the time and Orla is trying to get me to make a pudding
for her. She says I’m not taking part enough.”

  “You still haven’t told her we’re not going?”

  “She never knew you were in in the first place.”

  “We’ll end up there, I can tell. Anyway, I’ll do the pudding for you.”

  “You will? You angel.” Ellie hugged her. “It’s just, I’m so tired all the time, trying to lose weight. I can’t be bothered juicing and slicing anymore so I’ve simply resorted to eating practically nothing, and Jack isn’t really around much, some deadline or other, so it’s full-on with the girls all day, every day, now they’ve broken up for Christmas.”

  “Stop taking on everyone else’s problems, Ellie, you do it all the time.”

  “I know, I know. Actually, I am going to talk to him about it. The kids aren’t even dressed when I arrive in the morning and I have to knock to tell him I’m leaving and could he please supervise Sam’s homework.”

  “Go for it.”

  “I intend to, on Friday. Anyway, I’m off. Ring you tomorrow. Love you, want you, need you.”

  “Missing you already.”

  Luckily, when Ellie saw Olga that night Olga was tired and not in the humor for long chats, so Ellie played with Rudi for an hour and escaped, feeling glad to be free of the cheap flat with its chip-shop smell. She had a long soak as a reward for getting off so lightly. Usually, she’d have had a single of chips on the way home, with lots of salt and vinegar, so she figured her habits were changing slowly.

  On Wednesday Olga sent her a text, then phoned her, twice, asking her to call round on her way home from work.

  “It’s important.”

  “OK, but I can’t stay past—”

  “I won’t delay you, but promise you’ll come.”

  “Fine.”

  “Promise.”

  “I promise. Olga, what’s this about?”

  “Nothing, but I need to know you won’t let me down.”

  “I’ve already said—”

  “Fine, so what time?”

  “About six thirty, seven at the latest.”

  “No later than seven.” She must be cooking dinner, Ellie thought.

  “I’ll leave my key under the mat, in case I’m dozing.” That put paid to that theory; it must be Christmas presents, although she hadn’t a bean. Christ, Ellie hadn’t got her anything, nor Rudi, although she had bought his Christmas outfit the week before, but Olga had let him wear it and he’d grabbed a pen and drawn a clown, well a squiggle really, on his sleeve. Olga’s casual attitude really pissed Ellie off sometimes.

  “OK, look, I gotta go, I’m in work.”

  “Seven then.”

  “Yes, or earlier.”

  “Don’t forget. It’s very important.”

  “I won’t.” No chance of calling it off later, Ellie realized. She was exhausted and Sam was coming down with a cold and was more precocious than Bart Simpson.

  It was ten to seven when Ellie let herself in with Olga’s key, two bags of groceries threatening to topple her over. The TV was blaring—not unusual—but Rudi had obviously been crying, and for quite a while too, his face was streaked and swollen and he was secured in his cot, which had been pulled over in front of the TV. It meant he could stand up and move around but not attempt to climb out, which he’d started to do recently. It was something Olga did sometimes when she wanted to sleep and it really annoyed Ellie, because the child could easily get caught up in the strap. It made her nervous and she quickly unhooked him and called out, “Olga, I’m here.”

  No answer, again not unusual. She opened a carton of juice and gave it to Rudi but he started screaming and she knew from the smell that his nappy needed changing. He was hot, too, even though the flat was permanently cold, so she picked him up and took him with her. “There there, it’s OK, let’s go wake Mummy up.” She hopped over the toys, most of which she’d bought for him herself, and wrinkled her nose at the combination of stale urine and sick as he clung to her, crying and sweating. She was getting fed up with this.

  “Olga.” She pushed open the door of the tiny bedroom. The curtains were drawn and it was stuffy and damp at the same time. She reached over to gently tease her awake and even before she saw the empty vodka bottle she knew.

  Thirty-three

  Afterward, Ellie didn’t remember touching her but she knew she must have done. It was part of the first-aid training, nanny style. She’d never forget those mask-like, waxy features. And the blue-tinged lips and the feeling of cold in the air. She did remember getting Rudi away fast, just in case he sensed something. Later, they told her she had dialed 999. All she really knew was that she had flopped, like a giddy drunk, into the only chair in the place and held the baby very close, his earlier nauseating smell comforting her, reassuring her that nothing awful had happened to him, which probably would have finished her off.

  That’s how they found her, anyway. She’d even left the front door conveniently open, and within seconds of the screeching blue light arriving a crowd had gathered. They were mostly bored adolescents, Ellie knew from the brief encounters and furtive whistles that had often made her smile and even flattered her on a really bad day. The gang—mostly teenage boys—waited, asking questions, trying to get closer to the door. For them, it was a major happening, what with police and medics involved. Besides, anything that eased the boredom of living in a run-down council estate was welcome—and the more bizarre or grotesque the distraction the better.

  The cop car and ambulance had arrived almost simultaneously, although she hadn’t notified the former. She hadn’t needed to feel Olga’s pulse and didn’t even notice the empty bottle of pills, nor had she picked up either of the two notes propped up beside her on the cheap, melamine locker. She could still see the awkwardly positioned body, lying as if all the bones were broken in a loose, rag doll sort of way. They shooed the kids off and closed the door and a nice young ban garda sat with her and asked all sorts of questions and she heard muffled snatches of postmortem and state-pathologist-type conversations and she had to keep repeating, over and over again because they didn’t seem to believe her, “no, no family, no one, just her and the baby.”

  Later she was able to say, “Oh yes, there were relatives—in Russia—but they disowned her” and “Blake” was all she could come up with in response to constant requests for a surname. When they prompted that Blake was hardly Russian, the only thing she could think of was Dostoyevsky.

  It was much later that they asked her if there was anyone they could call and she tried hard to think of someone, but her mother would panic and her sister would be horrified and Pam had enough on her plate and Maggie would be too upset. She eventually rang Toni, thinking that her medical background might be useful, and simply said, “Please could you come round to Olga’s and help me?” There must have been something in her voice, because Toni responded immediately. “Yes, give me ten minutes.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Ellie, is everything OK?”

  “No, not really.”

  “All right, listen, stay where you are, I’m on my way.” And she left Gordon in the very posh French restaurant near the Troc, with no more than a quick “I have to go, something’s wrong with Ellie.” She refused his slightly bewildered offer of a lift, half explaining as she gathered her stuff that it was quicker to grab a taxi outside the door. She was greeted by uniforms and silence and noise and that instantly recognizable smell she knew well from the nursing home.

  Thinking back, it was the best call Ellie could possibly have made, because Toni was well used to taking control and the uniforms were blown away by her aura of sex and power and cool intelligence.

  “What happened, darling?” she asked in a calm voice. And eventually she was the only one able to persuade Ellie to loosen her grip on Rudi, who was clutching her back with almost the same degree of ferocity.

  “She’s been really odd, lately, did I tell you that? No, it was Pammy I was telling. Anyway, this morning she rang me a few times and texted me as well,
insisting I call round, making me promise and silly things like that. I always come when I say I will, you know that.” Toni nodded and kept rubbing her hand and the policewoman listened and made notes. It was the most they’d got out of her so far.

  “How did you get in? Have you got a key?”

  “I have, actually, but she seemed to have forgotten, cause she told me hers would be under the mat at the front door. She’s sometimes sleeping, you see. She’s been very depressed lately—taking tranquillizers and antidepressants and sleeping tablets.” Ellie swallowed and tried not to cry. “Same as most of the people you see in a lot of working-class surgeries in Dublin most mornings,eh?” Toni didn’t know, neither did Ellie really, but she’d heard enough, on the local buses and in the tiny post office and barricaded chemist where she sometimes went for Olga.

  “Tell me what happened then?”

  “Rudi was screaming and the TV was blaring, nothing new there. He looked a bit more … neglected than usual and he smelt.” She sniffed his bottom, wondering if she’d changed him and forgotten. “He was fastened in, which Olga sometimes does if she wants to sleep, and it irritated me, although she means no harm.” She kissed the top of his head and he never budged. “I picked him up and he kept howling until he saw her and then he just stopped.” She looked at Toni in a puzzled way. “He knew, I know he did.” Toni nodded. This was all much worse than she’d imagined.

  “I knew, too. Suddenly it all made sense.”

  “What did?”

  “All her odd questions lately. She was checking me out.” Her eyes were glazed. “She planned this, Toni.” “How do you know?”

  Ellie didn’t seem to hear. “I wonder if she was planning it when she asked me to be his godmother. Do you think?”

  “I don’t know. Oh, Ellie, you poor, poor thing.” And Toni, gorgeous Toni with the five-thousand-euro leather coat and the diamonds and the gloss, pulled the smelly baby and the equally pathetic nanny into her arms and held them close.

  They let her go after they’d checked her address and knew where the baby was being kept. They told her that a social worker would need to see her, and the baby.