The Beach at Doonshean

by Penny Feeny

So now Leo was back as chief rooster, his wife had taken refuge in a darkened room and his son was, literally, licking his wounds in a corner. Matt pounded upstairs, Danny stumbling in his wake.

  Rachael’s family were not like the Wentworths. Her elderly parents and older siblings dwelt peaceably in Dorset, where they were scrupulously polite to one another and nobody ever raised their voice. She claimed she’d been grateful to escape to a livelier environment where people said what they meant and didn’t care if you took offence. Nonetheless, she was easily hurt and Matt would do anything to protect her.

  In the bedroom the curtains were drawn, shutting out the view of Leo cooking and the teenage girls with their burnished bare shoulders and tightly creased crotches, passing around cans of hooch they shouldn’t have been drinking in the first place. Matt sat at the foot of the double bed and Rachael groaned. ‘What’s up?’

  Her arm lay outside the duvet, pale and twitching. She dragged herself upright. Dan turned from the doorway with a little sigh.

  ‘It’s been a total mess,’ she said.

  She’d taken her jeans off but was otherwise fully clothed, he noticed. Her complexion had a faint glassy sheen. ‘What has?’

  ‘Well, today mostly. The stupid car broke down.’

  ‘The Lotus?’

  ‘We had such trouble on the way back.’

  ‘From where?’

  ‘Southport.’

  ‘Southport!’

  ‘He was just meant to be taking it out for a spin. But then the bloody exhaust fell off. That’s what old cars do, isn’t it – they fall apart. We tried to carry on but the noise and the fumes were just awful so we had to stop. He isn’t a member of the AA so I had to ring them and we waited ages…’

  He patted her arm to pacify her, but at the same time he found it odd that the incident had been so upsetting. ‘What happened to the car?’

  ‘Oh we got it to a garage in the end but it’s so ancient it has to be fixed by a specialist and Leo will have to argue about the cost with his mate who owns it, but that’s not my problem. And then we got the train home.’ Her eyes were huge and watery, the pupils magnified in the gloom. ‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have agreed to the trip to start with.’

  ‘Hey, stop worrying. You’re back safely now.’

  ‘There was a cock-up over Dan too. I’d asked Emma to pick him up when she collected Caleb but apparently she had to go on somewhere else so she brought him round here because I’d told her I’d be back, but when she rang me we were still on the train, so…’

  He couldn’t understand what the fuss was about. Faulty cars were a nuisance but they didn’t compare to some of the human drama and hardship he dealt with on a daily basis. ‘So?’

  ‘Well I didn’t know what to tell her to do. I hardly know the neighbours and I’ve had to rely on Emma too much already and you said he shouldn’t go to the after-school club more than twice a week—’

  ‘So this is my fault now?’

  ‘And even if I’d contacted you, you wouldn’t have got back to the house any earlier than I would.’

  He frowned as he began to grasp what she was getting at. ‘Are you saying she just left him on the doorstep? Christ, that’s child neglect! It’s a serious issue.’

  ‘Don’t be silly. Emma’s not irresponsible.’ Her voice was skittering from one register to another. ‘Those two girls were hanging around so she left him with them. I said it was okay. I mean, they minded him once before. I don’t like to encourage them, but I knew we wouldn’t be long and I didn’t really have any choice, did I?’

  ‘So that’s why they’re here?’

  ‘Leo invited them to stay. I couldn’t… I don’t know… He’s a steamroller, isn’t he? And it’s difficult. I mean, he knows so much more about this house than I do. A fuse blew. I don’t know why. I think it was something that boy, Nathan, did – whatever he touches seems to go wrong—’ she was tearful now ‘—and I didn’t even know where the fuse box was. Leo was able to fix it in seconds and then he said we ought to have a barbecue and the boys got wildly excited because it’s the first this year. And I started feeling so ill.’

  ‘Poor thing.’ Matt wondered why a day spent with Leo should have this effect, making her so weak and emotional. Then a thought struck him. He reached forward to caress her. ‘Hey, Rach, you don’t think you might be…?’

  She shook him off. ‘It was because I hadn’t eaten anything – and because of the broken exhaust I’d probably inhaled all sorts of petrol fumes.’

  He said, ‘Well why don’t you come downstairs now? Let me fix you something. A cup of tea at least?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘I can’t face anyone. I don’t feel like it’s our house when those kids are hanging around. I just want it to be the three of us again. Can’t you get rid of him?’

  ‘Leo? How?’

  ‘Can’t we send him over to Ireland?’

  ‘Not a good idea,’ said Matt. ‘I spoke to Bel last night, remember. She thinks Julia might be having some sort of breakdown. He’s the last person she’d want to see. It’s in everybody’s interests to keep him here.’

  He rose from the bed and went to the window, peering through the gap in the curtains. The scene below was playful. Dan was no longer sucking his fingers but chasing a cat around in circles. A couple more cats were sitting solemnly, the neat mounds of their paws pressed together, drawn by the meaty aroma and the expectation of off-cuts. ‘And if we don’t want the whole place taken over,’ he said. ‘We should join them. Come on. Let me brush your hair for you.’ She usually enjoyed the sensation and he found satisfaction in it too: in the slow measured strokes of the brush and the silky spill of her hair.

  ‘No!’ She shied away as if she couldn’t bear him to touch her. ‘My head hurts and that would make it worse.’

  ‘Have you taken a painkiller?’

  ‘Yes, two.’

  ‘Right.’ What else could he do? She wasn’t to be persuaded and there was something enticing about the prospect below, so different from the day spent in a stuffy office, drafting letters, mollifying clients, arguing over costs. The evening sun slanted through the leaves of the pear tree. Nathan leapt out of it with a whoop, landing on all fours beside Dan. The two girls had their arms entwined around each other’s waists and their shoes kicked off; they were flirting shamelessly with Leo.

  Kelly looked up at the window. At first she narrowed her eyes as if in concentration and then – had she spotted his face at the glass? – her mouth cracked into a wide joyous grin that transformed her otherwise sharp features into a bountiful invitation. Obviously it was ridiculous to be succumbing to invitations issued by strangers in his own home, but there was nothing to be gained from staying upstairs.

  He showered and changed into his favourite long shorts – which he knew Rachael didn’t care for, but which he thought were not unflattering – and a darkish polo shirt that was more likely to be green than red because he tried to avoid buying red. Then he sauntered back downstairs as master of his house. He took a beer from his fridge and wandered into his back garden. The interlopers greeted him heartily.

  ‘Hungry yet?’ said Leo, flipping a burger. ‘Where’s the rest of our dinner, girls? Ketchup? Mustard? Salad?’ The burger, a brown wafer of latex, bounced and spat. At Leo’s feet lay a crumpled welter of Cellophane and cardboard packaging.

  ‘Salad?’ Kelly wrinkled her nose. ‘Me and Nath, we don’t eat salad.’

  ‘Not even tomatoes?’

  ‘We’re both, like, allergic to tomatoes.’

  ‘You can’t just help yourself to the stuff in the fridge, I’m afraid,’ said Matt. ‘Some of it will be supplies Rachael’s ordered specially. But anything she puts in last week’s organic veg box is fair game. That’s why she keeps the two of them on the go so we know what needs to be used up first…’ He tailed off. Kelly and Sheba were looking at him curiously.

  ‘Fetch us some plates, girls, will you
,’ said Leo. ‘And forks. And another couple of beers while you’re at it.’

  ‘I’ll show you,’ said Matt, suddenly galvanised on Rachael’s behalf. He didn’t like to think of her coming down and finding her store cupboard plundered and her kitchen wrecked. Wrecked was perhaps too strong a term, but there was something about these guests that made him wary, as if he should be on special alert.

  Kelly was the one to accompany him, which was a relief. Sheba seemed impossibly cool and mature for a thirteen-year-old (a period he remembered as excruciatingly uncomfortable: braces and bum fluff and growing too fast; trousers too short and shoes that pinched; a painful hankering for well-endowed girls way out of his reach – like Sheba herself). Kelly was plainer, less threatening. She swayed her hips provocatively as they mounted the steps together but the action put him in mind of a duck’s waddle and the cheeky curl of its tail feathers. When she let the strap of her orange vest slip from her shoulder he was amused, not aroused. Besides, he needed to concentrate on locating the everyday crockery that could be used outside.

  He stacked plates and cutlery on a tray along with another pack of the cheap rolls that Leo must have bought at the corner shop. Kelly was leaning against the fridge with one knee raised, chafing her bare foot along the back of her calf. Her vest and bra straps still drooped. She was rolling a can of hooch between her palms as if anticipating the moment she would crush it. ‘You’re, like, a lawyer,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.’ He added a pot of wholegrain mustard to his tray. His response was cautious because people often didn’t understand how many different aspects of law there were to deal with. ‘But I’m not a criminal lawyer. Do you know someone who’s got into trouble?’

  ‘It’s me dad.’

  ‘Has he been arrested?’

  She squealed and he felt wrong-footed. ‘Nah! But he’s got to look after us, right? Take proper care. It’s his job.’

  ‘You don’t live with him, do you?’

  ‘Nah. He’s with this new foreign bint, slap an inch deep on her face, talks like you have to wind her up with a key first. One of them names ending in ova. Vancouver me and Nath call her.’

  ‘Vancouver?’

  Her grin was almost too wide for her jaw. ‘Near as we could get to wank-over.’ She chortled with delight. ‘D’you gerrit? Anyhow, he shouldn’t be fucking off with her, should he? Miss Vancouver. Me nan won’t talk to her because she reckons she’s a tart. So me dad in’t talking to me nan. They had a big row and that’s how come we got dumped.’

  ‘Well I’m not a family lawyer either, but I can tell you that as a parent he’s likely to be legally responsible, unless your mother—’ And then he remembered. He should have remembered before.

  ‘Me mam’s dead. Thirty-three. Just like Jesus.’

  My father too, he thought.

  ‘Overdose,’ said Kelly casually. Then her eyes narrowed between their stubby lashes. ‘She weren’t a junkie. They was prescription drugs, but she got the dose wrong. Vomited. Drowned in it.’

  A shadow must have crossed his face because she left the cool slab of the fridge door and came and tucked her arm through his. ‘We need advice,’ she went on. ‘I mean, like, me nan’s at her wits’. She’s getting these asthma attacks. They keep sending her to see places that are so grim you wouldn’t keep rats in them. And she can’t get Nath back into school until he’s seen the ed psych and whenever she rings the council, like, the person she needs to speak to is on leave. Or…’ She screwed up her face. ‘Or they’re sick. Lots of sick people in social services.’

  Matt was trying and failing to inch away from her. The two girls larking about with Leo had seemed carefree but now, with this warm, grubby, sweaty creature clinging on to him, he sensed an undertow of despair.

  She let go of his arm so she could flail her hands in the air. ‘It’s a mess innit? Someone’s got to sort it out.’

  ‘Well,’ he said. ‘A lot of high street solicitors will give free advice, initially.’

  ‘But not you?’

  ‘I’m afraid it isn’t my field.’

  ‘That’s what Sheba said, said you’d be useless.’

  Poor kid. He felt sorry for her, the way her mouth wobbled – though her lips were her best feature, rosebud plump – but there was no point in building up false hopes. He carried the tray outside and searched for a spot to leave it, safe from the spinning, leaping game Nathan was devising.

  ‘Don’t you have no chairs?’ said Sheba, lighting and inhaling deeply on a menthol cigarette.

  Matt glanced up at the master bedroom and resolved that on no account would this barbecue supper be eaten indoors. ‘No,’ he said. ‘We haven’t had any use for garden furniture yet. But I could bring some out from the kitchen.’

  Leo was moving the sausages to the edge of the grill. ‘They’ll be at the back of the garage,’ he said.

  ‘What will?’

  ‘The table and chairs you need to fetch. Better get a move on. Food’s just about ready. Apologies for the lack of choice but I’d delegated the shopping to Nathan and it seems this is his idea of a feast.’

  Matt entered the garage through the side door, cursing himself. He should have remembered they’d be there: he’d helped his mother shift the slatted wooden table and chairs into storage every autumn.

  The garage was large but ramshackle and in need of repair. Their Passat occupied the front area and at the back were a quantity of paint pots and a couple of redundant bicycles with flat tyres and rusted chains. He recognised his old Raleigh and a lilac one that must have belonged to Bel. There was also the new child’s bike bought for Dan at Christmas but not much ridden. He couldn’t see the garden furniture at first because it was shrouded under a dust sheet. The fabric was heavy with distemper fallen from the ceiling; a furry spider’s web garnished one corner.

  ‘We should have a thorough clear-out,’ Rachael had said when they’d arrived and tried to integrate their own furniture with the pieces Julia had left behind. ‘This isn’t going to work.’

  And he had talked her out of it because of the expense. ‘Why would we chuck a perfectly good sideboard we can keep stuff in? This place is going to cost us a fortune, Rach, to heat and decorate and maintain. We can’t afford to rush at things.’

  She’d insisted, however, on taking down Leo’s paintings because she didn’t like the fierce colours. She’d agreed Matt could move one of them into his study; the rest were blocking his way as he yanked at the cloth.

  Kelly reappeared at his side with Nathan in tow. ‘Leo sent us to help you.’

  ‘Right.’ This was probably not the time to draw attention to the abandoned canvases. He used the dust sheet to cover them more thoroughly and hoped they hadn’t been spotted by Leo when he dug out the barbecue. ‘It needs two to carry the table. Kelly, you take one of the chairs.’

  She rubbed up against him again as she reached for the chair. ‘Wish I had a dad like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Like yours. He’s cool.’

  ‘Actually, he’s my stepfather.’

  ‘Yeah, right. Still sound though.’

  ‘He’s had Miss Vancouvers of his own, I can tell you,’ said Matt. ‘Here, Nathan, give me a hand with this will you.’

  Nathan looked as though he were making up his mind, as though a more interesting activity might divert him at any minute. His hand strayed towards the tower of paint pots.

  ‘You take that end,’ said Matt firmly. ‘I’ll go backwards and you follow. We want to get this meal eaten, don’t we?’

  This was the way things had always been when Leo was left in charge: haphazard, random, out of sequence. Letting the dinner congeal or burn before having anything ready to eat it with/or off/or whatever; hunting for last-minute essentials. Despite its protective cover the table top was dusty and needed to be wiped down, as did the chairs. The contents of the tray had to be unloaded and more condiments fetched. Then, finally, they gathered around the selection of leathery burgers
and overcooked sausages, inferior bread rolls, jars of gherkins and piccalilli, bottles of ketchup and brown sauce and several cans of lager. And they were all laughing.

  ‘Go on,’ Kelly prodded Matt. ‘You can’t tell the difference, can you?’

  ‘What difference?’

  ‘Between ketchup and HP.’

  ‘Who says?’

  ‘Him.’ She pointed at Danny. ‘Says they both look the same to you.’

  ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t tell them apart.’

  ‘Go on then. Show us.’

  ‘Don’t watch,’ said Sheba picking up the two bottles. (Rachael made her own ketchup; the Heinz variety was bought for Dan’s benefit.) ‘Turn around while I squirt them out.’

  Seconds later they presented him with two puddles of sauce. He knew perfectly well which was which. Although they were both muddy shades, they weren’t the same muddy shade: the brown sauce was darker, the ketchup more mellow. He was planning to give them a run for their money, make them giggle by getting it wrong. He liked the way the girls giggled, open and unaffected. ‘Can I taste them?’

  ‘No, ’course not! That would be cheating.’ Sheba pushed the plate towards him. He raised his eyes and met Leo’s. Leo winked.

  Well this is a shambles, reflected Matt: Dan with something smeared around his mouth and sticky in his hair; Nathan, cheeks bulging, teasing a cat with a stick; the tipsy teenagers fascinated by his handicap, but it was an enjoyable shambles. When women took charge there was no room for playfulness. Their determination to have everything well appointed (the Martha Stewart factor, Leo used to call it in baffled disgust); their need for co-ordination and harmony; the absurd distress caused by the wrong glassware or the absence of floral display – well, it missed the point didn’t it? The point was to be able to relax, have a drink, a bite to eat, a laugh. He pointed, deliberately, at the wrong puddle. ‘Tomato ketchup.’ He finished his beer and snapped the ring-pull from a second can. The girls fell about in peals of laughter. Sheba was bending so far forward he could see right down the front of her T-shirt, her shapely breasts in their balconette bra.

  Leo dug into his pocket and slapped a pound coin on the table. ‘You proved me wrong, mate,’ he said.