by Pat Rosier
‘Tempting.’ Martia smiled at her. ‘But for once in my life I have a plan, and I’ve a yen to carry it out. Don’t feel old enough to settle. Even with my best friend.’
Poppy made a show of distraught tears, then laughed. ‘Oh well, I suppose it would be giving up on romance, sex, all that. But I will confess to being a bit bothered about being on my own – well, almost on my own,’ she responded to the cat’s arched back with long strokes. ‘Not that it’s been a problem before.’
‘And you’ve not had a parent die before… and there’s the phone, I’ll get it.’ Martia was up before Poppy and Mrs Mudgely had moved.
‘Alexa! Hullo! Yes, it’s Martia.’ Pause. ‘Hang on, I’ll check with Pops, she’s pretty tired.’ She held the phone against her shoulder. ‘Alexa’s driving almost past here on her way home and would like to drop in.’ Poppy was nodding, she hadn’t spoken to Alexa since her return. ‘Tell her I’d love to see her, though I might fall asleep.’
‘She’ll forgive you if you nod off.’ Martia was returning the phone to its cradle. ‘She sounded odd actually, upset I think.’
Alexa was upset, though she tried not to show it at first, making an entrance with a partly-drunk bottle of wine and a tub of ice-cream. As soon as Poppy had her in a hug she was crying. She cried some more on Martia’s shoulder while Poppy put the ice-cream in the freezer and got glasses.
‘To George.’ Alexa held up her glass. ‘One of the nice men in the world. You must really miss him Poppy.’
‘Yes, yes I do. It’s knowing he’s not there any more really. What about you, though, what’s going on?’
‘Oh Poppy, Martia, you’re both such good friends and this is going to change everything, I know it is.’ Alexa was hugging a cushion, rocking back and forward, looking from one to the other. ‘I know I’m going to lose friends, wonderful friends I’ve had forever.’
‘Come on then.’ It was Poppy who spoke. ‘You’ve got our undivided attention, for heaven’s sake, out with it whatever it is.’ She didn’t mean to be abrupt, she had an idea she knew what she was about to hear and wanted it over with.
‘Just say it, A,’ Martia’s tone was gentler.
‘I’ve fallen in love with a man.’ Alexa said it very fast and hid her face in the cushion. After a few moments silence she looked up.
‘That doesn’t mean we can’t be friends.’ Martia was definite. ‘Though it must make a difference….’ She looked at Poppy at the moment when Poppy said, ‘No. You can’t have. You’re a lesbian.’
‘But I have! So I suppose I am not – one – any more.’ Alexa was looking from one to the other.
‘A hasbian!’ Poppy put her hand over her mouth. She hadn’t meant to say it out loud. Alexa was crying. Martia took a tissue out of her pocket, checked it quickly, and passed it over. Alexa stood, putting the cushion carefully back in the corner of the sofa. ‘I’ll go.’
‘No, please don’t.’ It was Martia who spoke. ‘Sit down. Talk to us some more.’
Poppy sat silently while Alexa explained to Martia how she had taken the opportunity of the house-sit because she was feeling out of sorts in her whole life, including with Bessie and she needed some time to work it through. She had tried talking with Bessie but she couldn’t explain, because she didn’t know herself what was going on, just that everything felt wrong. Some time on her own, she thought, and she’d sort it out and she and Bessie…
‘Then I met Ian.’ Alexa looked at Poppy, who almost smiled, so she went on. She met Ian at a barbecue at the home of a colleague about a week after she started the house-sit. He was the brother of a different colleague. They had talked and met for coffee a few times and then she found she was thinking about him all the time and thinking about… she stopped, blushing.
Martia said, ‘Does he…?’
Alexa nodded.
‘So you’re…?’
‘Yes.’ Alexa looked at the floor. There was a few moments’ silence, before Poppy asked, ‘Does Bessie know?’
Alexa shook her head. ‘I’m seeing her tomorrow after work. I wanted to tell you two in case she wanted someone else to talk to. And to practice, to see if I could make it easier to tell her. I haven’t. Do you never want to see me again?’ This to Poppy.
‘No. I mean, yes, oh, you know, you don’t abandon old friends just because they do something you don’t understand. And I don’t, understand that is. But it can’t be the same, can it?’ Poppy brushed at tears with the back of her hand. ‘It helps to have heard it from you,’ she went on, and Martia nodded agreement.
Alexa didn’t stay much longer. Martia and Poppy both forgot to offer her the ice-cream back. They sat side-by-side on the sofa when Alexa had gone and looked at each other. For once neither of them could think of anything to say.
Chapter Fourteen
Everyone was talking about Alexa. Poppy ended up defending her.
‘Of course she’s not a traitor,’ she would say, or, ‘I’m sure she hasn’t done anything lightly,’ or even, ‘of course her friends matter to her and she knows what she’s going to lose.’ Including herself, Poppy thought, at least in the old, easy way. She knew they wouldn’t see each other as often, Alexa’s circle of friends would change over time, she’d socialise with other mixed couples, maybe even change the way she dressed, especially if the relationship with Ian lasted. Or if she really had had a complete change of sexual identity. That was what happened, Poppy knew, and she would be sad to lose Alexa as one of her closest friends, but they would remain friends, old friends, you didn’t – couldn’t – cancel all those years of closeness.
Naturally, it was hardest on Bessie.
‘I screamed at her, right there on Ponsonby Rd, in the Turtle, and threatened to throw her clothes and books out the front door and hoped it was raining when I did. I can’t believe myself now,’ she told Poppy and Martia.
‘What was it like at the time?’ Poppy wanted to know.
‘Exhilarating. I didn’t care, I didn’t care who saw or listened, I was so blazingly angry with her. I still am.’ Except Bessie didn’t sound angry, sitting at Poppy’s dining table.
‘And then,’ she went on to her engrossed audience, ‘I went home and cried all night, took the next day off work and had my hair cut short.’ She ran her hands through what was almost a crew cut. Neither of her friends had commented on it. ‘I haven’t had it this short for twenty years.’
‘It suits you,’ said Martia. ‘You look really dykey.’
Bessie screwed up her nose. ‘I guess that was the idea.’
‘What about your family, do they know?’ Poppy asked.
‘Yes, and they’re really bewildered. They love Alexa.’ Bessie faltered. ‘Mum phoned Alexa who said she was sorry and then wouldn’t talk any more.’ Poppy and Martia looked at each other. Poppy knew one of them would be talking to Alexa about Bessie’s family. The nephews and nieces would be terribly upset, surely Alexa would stay in touch with them.
‘Omigod, your house, your wonderful house!’ Poppy said suddenly with a sharp intake of breath. And immediately felt guilty as Bessie gave up trying not to cry.
‘I don’t know!’ she sobbed. ‘I can’t even begin to think about that yet.’
Poppy made herself ring Alexa twice during the coming week but the conversations were awkward; Alexa wanted to bubble with excitement about Ian and knew Poppy didn’t want to hear that. She asked questions about Bessie, how she was, anxious that Bessie should know that she, Alexa, cared a lot for her, of course… And Poppy didn’t want to hear that, either, she wanted to talk about Alexa, when she first noticed a change, in herself and with Bessie, what she had thought it meant, whether Ian made the first approach to her, or her to him. Every time she asked a question Alexa got defensive. They were both unhappy in the conversations and neither managed to make this any different.
Martia spent a night at Bessie’s, so did Rina and other friends. Eve and Shirley argued for several days over whether they should stop having anything to do
with Alexa. Poppy was distressed by this, because she both feared they might separate over it and disagreed with the idea of deliberately shutting anyone out of their lives.
Each day Poppy drove home from work more tired than the day before. By Friday she could barely pay attention at the emergency staff meeting Moana had called after school to tell them that the worst of her fears about the proposed funding changes would probably not be realised but there was more work to do and she needed some help. Poppy was relieved when two others put themselves forward. She sent an apologetic smile to Moana, who came up to her afterwards, asking how she was. Poppy nearly answered by saying she was getting used to Alexa and Bessie splitting up, then felt bad that her father’s death was being so quickly absorbed, so all she managed was, ‘I’m okay, thanks Moana,’ before she bolted. Even the harbour looked gloomy as she drove over the bridge, the water grey and torpid.
‘Oh shit!’ A line of stationery cars was banked up ahead, all the way down the bridge and snaking around the corner at the bottom. Both lanes. Joy was coming over with spring plant catalogues when she finished at the library at five and Poppy wanted to get to the supermarket for juice and nibbles. Leaning her arms on the steering wheel she closed her eyes for a moment, starting when the driver behind her blasted his horn – a lot of effort, she thought to advance a metre or two. Once the line started to creep forward it kept moving, too slowly for the speed to register on Poppy’s dashboard, but moving.
Turning the corner into her street, she pulled up at the same time as the car in front. Joy jumped out, waved, and dived into the back seat, emerging with two supermarket bags. One proved to be full of an intimidating collection of nursery catalogues, the other the drinks and nibbles Poppy had not had time to stop for.
‘It’s a bit late for most of the bulbs, but there’s still plenty of choice for spring flowers, and the new…’ Joy stopped abruptly when she saw Poppy’s face. ‘You look exhausted.’ She took the key from Poppy’s hand and let them into the house. ‘No Martia?’
‘No, she’s already started on a round of final dinners. She’ll be gone in a couple of weeks.’ Poppy leant down and scratched behind Mrs Mudgely’s ears. Joy was already in the kitchen. ‘Mind if I…?’
‘Go right ahead. As you noticed, I’m completely bushed. Sorry.’
‘Don’t be. It’s all right. The plants can wait. What would you like?’
‘A… um,’ she thought for a moment, ‘cup of tea, actually.’ She shivered. ‘It’s bloody cold in here,’ she said and leant over to turn on an electric heater.
‘Do you ever use that fireplace?’ Joy had made tea in a teapot. Poppy hoped she had rinsed it first.
‘Nah. It’s okay though, I had it checked once.’ Poppy warmed her hands on the teapot. ‘I hardly use this, either.’
‘Just as well I rinsed it then. Not that the dust gave me a clue! I hope you don’t mind…’
She likes things, Poppy thought, things you can so something with like gardens and teapots.
‘Yes. No. No, not at all, I just don’t bother, you know, using it, tea-bags and all.’
The toaster popped and Joy went into the kitchen and came back with toast triangles and smoked fish roe. ‘My favourite,’ she said, ‘I hope you don’t mi…’ Her hands were out, palms up. ‘I can’t help it, I just do stuff. Stop me if you mind.’
‘It’s fine,’ said Poppy. ‘I’m getting used to it.’ She smiled. ‘I’m just so tired I can’t even think straight. This is lovely, I’d never have thought of it.’ She smeared another piece of toast with roe and popped it in her mouth. ‘The tea’s good too,’ she added, pouring more in her cup and holding up the teapot in a question. Joy shook her head. ‘No thanks. Look, maybe I should push off and leave you to collapse, blob out in front of the telly or whatever.’ Poppy was shaking her head. ‘If you can bear with me, this’ – she gestured at the food and drink – ‘is helping, I may even be fit for human company in a moment.’
Deciding what to plant in her garden turned out to be more fun than Poppy had imagined possible. They sat back after an hour with an impressive list of possibles. Joy said she had to be off, she’d promised to help Bessie re-organise her bedroom. ‘She wants to move Alexa’s things to the spare room and re-arrange everything, says they’ve decided she’ll stay there for now so she’s going to make it hers,’ she explained. After a pause, Joy went on, ‘I’m not so good at talking, you know, chewing over what’s happened, wondering why and so on, I’m better at practical things.’ She shrugged. ‘So I said I’d help. I’ve got a bunch of cartons in the car.’ At the door she turned around. ‘That was great,’ she said, ‘thanks. I’ll see myself out.’ The waving hand disappeared up the hall, Poppy called out, ‘Thank you,’ the front door opened and closed and the phone rang several times while Poppy contemplated not answering it.
‘This is May-Yun, and Poppy, Chan and I have some exciting news.’ Poppy heard, ‘Go on, Mum, you tell her,’ in the background.
‘My son and I,’ May-Yun was making an announcement of it, ‘have enrolled together in a class to learn Cantonese. Spoken Cantonese. So when he goes to find my family he can talk. And we will practise with each other. Do you think I will be able to keep up with him?’
‘That’s great news, May-Yun.’
‘It was Chan’s idea.’ She could hear the pride in May-Yun’s voice. ‘He is not embarrassed to go to school with his mother. Here, talk to him.’
‘Hi Chan, what a terrific idea.’
‘Yeah, I reckon. We asked Ivan too, but he’s got soccer practice on Tuesdays. It’s a night class.’
‘What about your father?’
‘He said he’d learn when we started talking to each other in Chi-Cantonese in front of him.’
‘It’ll be too late then.’
‘Yeah. I’ll put Mum back.’
‘You know, Poppy, I was thinking I must start some new thing now my children are growing and Chan had this idea. I am very excited.’
‘Wonderful!’ Poppy was trying to summon the energy to tell her about Alexa and Bessie.
‘Chan will join the Chinese Association too. I will wait and see what that is like. Annie with her talk of making a movie of my grandparents and Chan with wanting to go to where they came from, they are making me want to be more Chinese. I am lucky to have a good husband who encourages me.’
‘And so he should!’ He might not have once, Poppy thought, but my conservative brother has at least let his children widen his horizons. I might even have helped.
‘Oh, I am sorry, I should have asked first, how are you Poppy dear? How was your first week back at work?’
‘Tiring.’ Poppy told her sister-in-law about the week, including her friends’ break-up. ‘I do miss George, but it’s more the idea of him not being there, a kind of hole in the world, not something gone from my everyday life.’
‘That is very good, Poppy. We all did the right thing, going to see him and you did the right thing staying.’
As soon as Poppy hung up the phone it rang again. This time she didn’t answer, waiting a few minutes and checking for a message. It was Katrina, ringing to see how she was. ‘In the morning, mother dear,’ Poppy said out loud, turning the ring-tone off and heading for bed, Mrs Mudgely in attendance.
The weekend was as uneventful as Poppy needed it to be, with plenty of mooching about the house doing chores in a desultory way, chatting with Martia, phone calls, venturing out into the cold dampness only long enough to shop for groceries.
An email came from Jane, short, perfunctory even, Poppy thought, wondering herself at the speed with which their intense feelings for each other had dissipated. ‘Burnt off in a flash,’ she said to Mrs Mudgely, trying to think how to say it to Jane. ‘It was real, Mrs M, it was more than a flash in a pan. We couldn’t bring our lives together was all, we wanted different things.’ The cat stopped rubbing her face against Poppy’s leg and looked up at her. ‘I know, clichés, but they must come from somewhere.’ Poppy rolled her co
mputer chair back so Mrs Mudgely could jump onto her lap. ‘Now A and B have to unpick their lives. We might stick to you and me, eh, nice and simple.’
Sliding her legs carefully under the computer table so as to not disturb Mrs Mudgely, Poppy concentrated on replying to Jane. Never mind analysing what happened, she thought, and wrote briefly about the events of the week, remembering to pass on messages from Katrina and May-Yun. Her sister-in-law had not asked questions when Poppy announced that she and Jane were ‘friends and that’s all’. Stefan had said, ‘it’s your life, Sis,’ with a smile.
If she resisted attempts to get her out and socialising Poppy found she had just enough energy for her work and keeping up with close friends and family. She didn’t mind the short daylight hours, the winter damp, huddling into a warm room and staying put for the evenings was just what she needed. When she heard on the television news that the Labour Government had appointed the first openly gay cabinet minister in New Zealand, on impulse Poppy phoned and ordered the morning paper to be delivered; time to get back into the world out there she thought.
Suddenly it was the first of September and three days away from Martia’s departure for what she was calling her ‘northern adventure’.
‘No farewell party,’ she told Poppy. ‘I’ve seen everyone I think I should as well as everyone I want to, and I’d really like a quiet weekend with the two of us. There’s packing my car and a final visit to Mum on Sunday, which I am not looking forward to, and that’s all I want to do.’
Over the weekend it rained and rained and rained. Bessie came round and told them she and Alexa were selling their house.
‘It’s too hard staying there on my own,’ she said.
‘But it’s only…’
‘I know, but I hate it too much. And,’ Bessie paused for effect, ‘I’ve been offered a big project in Wellington for nine months, great money, accommodation provided in a downtown furnished apartment.’ She paused for effect. ‘As well as that,’ she added, ‘I don’t mind a bit that Alexa will have to deal with agents and all the final messy bits.’