by Susan Lewis
Course, the first thing our mam asks when I walk in her door is how I got on. I tell her everything’s all right, just a couple more tests. I don’t mention anything about going in hospital yet. I’ll wait till I find out from Tyldesley when it’s supposed to be.
She goes on asking me exactly what they did and what was said, so I tell her,
‘It was just a normal check-up. Everything’s all right, so let’s change the subject.’
‘What’s a check-up?’ Gary asks.
I didn’t think he was listening, sitting down there on the mat wheeling his cars around. ‘It’s nothing,’ I tell him. ‘Come on, where’s your coat? We have to be getting home, or Susan’ll be wondering where we are.’
As he goes off to the hall I light a cigarette and throw the match in the grate.
‘I don’t like the sound of this,’ our mam says.
‘Well, nor do I,’ I snap, ‘but there’s not a lot we can do about it, is there? If they say I have to have more tests then I have to have them, and you keeping on about it isn’t making it any better, so just bloody shut up about it, will you?’
‘I was only asking, that’s allowed, isn’t it?’
‘No. It’s not. It’s none of your business . . .’
‘I’m your bloody mother . . .’
‘It’s no-one’s business except mine.’
‘Why are you shouting at Gran?’ Gary asks.
‘I’m not,’ I answer. ‘I’m just trying to make her understand something. Your coat’s on inside out, so take it off, and put it on properly.’
Thankfully we don’t have to wait too long for the bus, so we get down to the bottom of New Cheltenham in plenty of time to call in Bridges. I’m still feeling bad about shouting at our mam like that, because it’s only natural she’d be worried, but it’s too late now. I’ll say sorry when I next see her, because she’s a dear old soul really, who’s only trying to show she cares.
There’s a halfpenny off the Swiss rolls, so we get one for afters, they all like a nice piece of Swiss roll. I don’t feel all that hungry meself, which scares me a bit after the doctor asked about any loss of appetite. This is the first time I’ve noticed it though, but it’ll be more to do with nerves at having to go back in hospital, than with anything else.
The tiredness is worrying me a bit. I wonder if I should have told him the truth about that.
The minute we walk in the street Susan’s on her way out of Betty’s to come and meet us.
‘Are you all right?’ I say, as she reaches us.
‘Yes. I’ve been playing hide-and-seek with Geoffrey and Nigel. They couldn’t find me for ages.’
‘Where did you hide?’ Gary asks.
‘I’m not telling you, or you’ll know where to look.’
‘You’ve got Brownies tonight,’ I remind her.
‘Oh, do I have to go?’
‘Now don’t start. Yes, you do. I’ll walk up with you after tea and your father’ll come to meet you.’
‘What have we got for tea?’ Gary asks.
‘Beefburgers. Pick up the milk, Susan and bring it in. Then you can do ten minutes on the piano.’
‘Oooooh,’ she groans and stamps her foot.
‘What am I going to do?’ Gary says.
‘You can practise your reading.’
‘I can’t on my own. Can I go out to play?’
‘All right, but stay in the street where I can see you.’
‘That’s not fair, you never let me go out to play,’ Susan grumbles.
‘He’s younger than you, but you can go out for ten minutes when you’ve finished the piano.’
There hadn’t been time to wash the kitchen floor before I left this morning, so I give it a quick wipe over with a mop for now – I can get down and give it a good scrub in the morning. All the brass needs polishing too, and the carpets could do with a vac. It’ll be all right till tomorrow though. Susan sounds as though she’s coming along well with ‘Für Elise’ in there on the piano, just a few clangers here and there. I shouldn’t mock, because neither Eddie nor I can play a note. She’s a good girl. They both are. They’ll go far, my two.
‘Can I go out now?’ Susan says.
She makes me jump, because I was miles away, staring out the window watching Gary play football with his friends in the street.
‘Can I?’ she says.
I want to say no, but that’s daft. I said earlier that she could when she’d finished the piano, and what do I want her in here for, getting under my feet?
After she’s gone I peel some spuds for tea, put them on the gas, then go up to get her uniform ready for Brownies. There’s some post on the mat inside the front door. Something for Eddie from the college, a postcard from our Kath, who lives up in London, and a brown envelope for me.
I tear it open and pull out a photo. The face is familiar, but I can’t think who it is. Then I remember: he’s someone me and Betty saw on the telly, ages ago now, in a play, and for a laugh we wrote him a bit of a saucy letter, asking for a picture we could hang next to our beds. I’d forgotten all about it, and to be honest, I didn’t think we’d ever hear back from him anyway, but here’s the photo, and he’s signed it too. To Eddress with love from Michael. I wonder if Betty’s got one as well. Funny, but it seems like a lifetime ago that we wrote that letter. It wouldn’t have mattered if he’d forgotten, because I don’t know what the bloody hell to do with it now.
I’m not really thinking about it any more as I go back in the kitchen, open a drawer and slide the photo inside my cook book. I’m trying to remember what I was doing when I went down the passage . . . That’s right, I was on my way to sort out Susan’s Brownie uniform.
It’s hanging up in her wardrobe, clean and pressed, so I lie it down on the bed and start to look for her shoes and test card. Gary’ll be off to Cubs soon. He’s growing up fast. He starts school in September. Little rascal can’t wait. I’m going to miss him, being at home here on me own all day. I might find meself a little job, cleaning an office somewhere, or helping with the old people along The Chase. The extra money’ll come in handy, I know that. Eddie won’t have to do as much overtime either, give him a chance to do some writing, because he hasn’t done any in ages now. We’re always so busy, what with one thing and another, but it’s important for him to keep that up, it’s what he loves, and he’s good at it too. He says I’m the only one who thinks so, but that won’t always be the case.
Someone knocks on the front door, so I go back down to answer. It’s Mrs Weiner from up round the corner, the one with the German husband.
‘Hello Mrs Lewis,’ she says. ‘I just came to see if you’d like me to walk Susan to Brownies tonight. I’ve got to take Wendy, so to save you going too . . .’
‘It’s all right, I can take her,’ I answer. I can see right through this woman, the nosy old cow. Somehow she’s got wind of me going for a check-up today and now she’s trying to find out what happened. Well, she can go and stick her nose in someone else’s business.
‘Perhaps we can walk up together then,’ she says. ‘It’ll be nice to have the company.’
Nice for her, maybe, but not for me. I just don’t know how to get rid of her though, without seeming rude. Normally I wouldn’t care, but Eddie likes the woman, so if I upset her, it’ll upset him. ‘I’ll give you a knock as we pass,’ I tell her.
She looks so pleased that I might have warmed to her were it not for the fact that she’s a district nurse who’s only after all the gossip on me so she can pass it round to her patients (in other words, my bloody neighbours). Course she’ll be an authority on everything to do with it all, won’t she? Being a nurse she’ll be a bloody expert. Oh, I know what her game is all right, she tried it last time when I came out of hospital, pretending to want to help out when what she really wanted was to get in my house and have a look round, but I can’t for the life of me remember how I got rid of her then.
After she’s gone I realise I can’t walk up the road with her in
case she says something in front of Susan. Nor can I warn her not to without admitting I had a check-up today. If she doesn’t already know about it she’ll be all bloody ears to find out more, and if she does she’ll still be poking her nose in. So, when the time comes to leave I pop Eddie’s tea under the grill to keep warm, leave him a note to tell him where I am, then after sending Gary in to Betty, I walk Susan round the long way so we don’t have to pass the Weiners’ house. I don’t particularly care about hurting the old cow’s feelings, after all she married a bleeding German, didn’t she, so what does she expect? I’m going to feel a bit awkward if I bump into her up the church though, which I probably will.
Luckily, I spot Grace Shepherd and a couple of other mothers I know, so we all walk together, up past the school and along the main road to Holy Trinity. Brown Owl’s waiting at the door to see her little troupe in, and the vicar’s having a chat with someone over by the cemetery gate. He spots me and waves. I wave back, feeling guilty that I never go to church with Eddie and the kids. Some bloody Commie, my husband is. One week he’s up here, at Holy Trinity, the next he’s marching the kids off down the Sally Army, then they’re over Whitfield Tabernacle. I got a job to keep up with it all, I can tell you. I might start going with them now though, if I can find the time. Might put God in a better frame of mind towards me.
As the doors close behind the girls, us mothers are just walking back out of the churchyard when Mrs Weiner comes hurrying up with her Wendy, the perfect child. I know they’re late because they waited for me, but I pretend not to see them. They’ve seen me though, but Mrs Weiner doesn’t say anything as she passes, which is a good job, because I’m not in the mood for a row. When she comes to pick Wendy up later she’ll see Eddie. That’ll keep her happy. Just as long as she stays away from me.
‘I walked back from Brownies with Mrs Weiner,’ Eddie says as we’re getting ready for bed.
‘Did you?’
‘Yes. Says she saw us at the hospital today.’
‘I knew it! I bloody knew it!’
‘She wants to know if there’s anything she can do . . .’
‘She can mind her own bloody business, that’s what she can do.’
‘Ed, she’s only trying to be helpful.’
‘Well let her try with someone else, because I don’t want her round here, sticking her nose in where it’s not wanted.’
He sighs and pulls on his pyjamas. So I sigh and pull on mine too.
We get into bed and he sits up reading for a bit, while I just lie there trying to get off to sleep. There I was earlier, tired enough to conk out for a week, and now I can’t go off at all.
Eddie turns out the light and snuggles down under the blankets.
‘Goodnight,’ he says.
‘Goodnight.’
It’s a long time before either of us goes off to sleep.
Susan
The trouble with Gary is he’s never any good at playing shops. He always wants to buy things he can eat straight away, like biscuits or jam tarts, but that’s not how you play. He’s supposed to buy things I can put in a carrier bag for him, like tins of beans and jars of fish paste, but what I really want him to buy is some flour or sugar, so I can weigh them on Mum’s weighing scales.
‘But I don’t want any flour,’ he tells me angrily.
‘Yes you do.’
‘No I don’t. Flour’s stupid.’
I’ve got the bag in my hands, ready to tip into the scales. ‘Just buy some flour,’ I say, ‘and then I’ll sell you a Wagon Wheel.’
‘But I haven’t got enough money for some flour as well.’
‘I’ll let you buy it for a penny.’
‘I’ve only got tuppence and just now you said a Wagon Wheel was tuppence.’
‘Well it’s gone down now, sir. Wagon Wheels are only a penny today.’
‘Then I want two Wagon Wheels.’
I tip up the bag and start filling the scales. ‘That’s four ounces of flour, sir. Will there be anything else?’
‘I said I don’t want any,’ he shouts.
‘You have to!’
‘No! I’m not playing any more.’
His fists are clenched ready to thump me, so I pick up the scales and empty the flour over his head. ‘There, that’s what you get for not playing properly,’ I tell him.
‘Mum! Mum!’ he chokes, flour going everywhere. ‘Mum! I can’t see.’
‘It serves you right,’ I say, starting to giggle, because he looks really funny, like one of the Black and White Minstrels, but the other way round.
‘What on earth’s going on out here?’ Mum says, coming into the kitchen. ‘Can’t you two play nicely for . . . Oh my Lord! Gary, come here!’
She grabs him and starts thumping his back. He’s still choking and I can’t stop laughing.
‘Breathe!’ she tells him. ‘Breathe.’
‘I am,’ he coughs.
She gets some water and makes him drink it. He splutters a bit, then stops choking, but he’s crying now because he still can’t see, so Mum sits him up on the draining board and washes the flour out of his eyes. ‘Look at you,’ she says. ‘You’re covered. It’s all in your hair, your ears, and just look at your clothes . . .’
‘Susan did it,’ he wails. ‘She threw it over me because I wouldn’t buy it.’
‘I’ll be dealing with her as soon as we’ve got these clothes off.’
She strips him down to his pants and I creep back into the pantry to hide behind the potato sack in a very dark corner. She knows where I am though, because the next thing I know I’m being hauled out by the arm.
‘You naughty girl,’ she cries, smacking my legs. Smack! Smack! Smack! Smack! It really hurts and I’m screaming.
‘What’s the matter with you?’ she says. ‘He could have choked, and you’re old enough to know better.’
Smack! Smack! Smack!
‘I’m sorry, I’m sorry,’ I cry. ‘I didn’t mean to . . .’
‘Look at the bloody mess you’ve made. Now you can damned well clear it up, and I don’t want to see a single speck left anywhere by the time I come back down again. Gary, up those stairs so I can wash your hair.’
My legs are all red and stinging and I’m sobbing really hard as I go to get the brush and start sweeping up. I’m Cinderella with a wicked stepmother and I wish my fairy godmother would come and save me, because nobody loves me, not even Dad any more, because he’s too busy to read me a story or play any games, the way he used to. He hasn’t read me anything since Mum went into hospital again, and that was three weeks ago. She wasn’t in there for long, only two nights, but then she was in bed when she came home and we had to be quiet so we didn’t disturb her.
She said she was having some tests, but I don’t know if she’s passed or not yet. I don’t think they were tests like we do at school, I’m not sure though. No-one ever tells me anything, and anyway I don’t want to know, so there!
I fetch the dustpan and brush to scoop up the flour, but even when I finish it’s still all over the floor. It’s gone all down the front of the drawers too, and over the doormat. If I don’t clean it up I’ll be beaten by my wicked stepmother again, so I have to do it. Then I’ve got mending and darning to do, and sticks to bring in for the fire. I could wear my new lemon dress to the ball if my fairy godmother comes to turn some carrots into horses and my table into a coach – and Gary into a frog.
I get one of my wooden chairs to stand on and put the dishcloth under the tap. As I start wiping the counter top and fronts of the drawers the flour turns all gooey and clings to the cloth. This is a very hard job, but I must finish or my wicked stepmother will be very angry indeed. My wicked stepsisters are Janet and Sarah who live across the road, because they won’t let me play with them today. I don’t care, I don’t want to play with them anyway. Dad’s working all day even though it’s Saturday. I wonder if he’ll go in the library and bring me home a book. I asked him for What Katy Did, so I hope he doesn’t forget.
&
nbsp; I pull open a drawer because some flour’s gone inside. There’s some on Mum’s best cookery book which I take out and start reading, because I have to make everyone’s tea tonight, then do all the washing-up and scrub the floors and clean the windows. It’s a big, heavy book with lots of recipes for disgusting things like brains on toast and pig’s trotters in . . . (a word a I can’t read), and for delicious cakes and pies. I’ve got some flour on my glasses, so I take them off and put them in the drawer. Then I drop the book on my foot, which really hurts, but I don’t say anything because no-one cares. A picture has fallen out, so I pick it up. It’s a photo of a man. There are some words written on it, To Eddress with love from Michael.
I feel all funny all of a sudden and I don’t know what to do. I remember Mummy saying something to Mrs Williams about having to see someone called Michael. This is Michael. To Eddress with love . . . I feel a bit sick now and I still don’t know what to do. He’s handsome and horrible and ugly and I want to tear him up into small little pieces – so I do. Now Daddy will never find him. I don’t want Daddy to know, because he’s the only one Mummy should love. It would make Daddy very unhappy if he saw the picture, so it’s a good job I tore it up. Now I’m going to put it in the bin, then this nasty person called Michael will be all gone and Mummy won’t be able to look at his picture any more, or go off and be with him when she should be with us.
I’m still trying to clean up when she comes back downstairs. I think it’s a worse mess than before, because the flour’s gone all globby, but luckily she doesn’t smack me again, she just says, ‘Come on, let me do it,’ and takes the cloth.
I stand there watching her. She’s down on her hands and knees and the flour’s coming up really easy for her. I wish I knew what to do to make her love me and Dad and Gary more than anyone else in the world.
‘What’s all this, you daft thing,’ she laughs, as I go to put my arms around her and bury my face in her neck.