by Laura Elliot
‘They won’t.’
‘Please, Jake, I need my family around me. Be there for my speech, that’s all I’m asking.’
‘I’ll talk to Nadine,’ he promised.
‘She’s already responded to my email. I didn’t like her tone. I’m sure you can persuade her to change her mind.’
No sense trying to work after she left. Her visit had drained his creativity. What was the catalyst that drove her to devote her life to a single issue? Why not take on the health service, bankers, political corruption, land speculators? Why not protect stray dogs, endangered snails, battery hens, exhausted foxes? Why the determination to impose her idealised view of family values on society?
He was convinced that early widowhood had left her with a romanticised belief that the bloom never faded from a marriage. Her years with Adam Saunders were the happiest of her life, she claimed. He died from a brain haemorrhage when Jake was eight. His strongest memory of that time was the hush that descended over the house when the music stopped. His father used to play the piano in the evenings when he came home from work and Jake’s favourite memory was his manic imitation of Jerry Lee Lewis. Eleanor, unable to look at the piano without crying, sold it shortly after his death and joined First Affiliation. Jake had filled that silent space with his own music, distancing himself from her disapproval with small acts of rebellion that led eventually to Shard and all that post-punk aggression played out on stage.
He showered after she left and headed to HiNotes. Susanna kept increasing his classes and he was teaching guitar three afternoons a week. He dropped a note about the conference through Nadine’s letterbox.
Karin had tickets for an outdoor film screening in Meeting House Square. HiNotes was only a short distance from the square and she was waiting for him when he arrived. After the screening, they walked through Temple Bar. They stopped to buy ice cream and listen to buskers. Her heels were high, treacherous on the cobblestones, he thought, but she walked gracefully, her arm lightly linked in his. He still found it difficult to be with her in public.
What if Nadine saw them together? She could be out with friends from the magazine, sitting by a restaurant window watching the crowds passing by. What would she say… do… should such an encounter occur? Would she feel betrayed? And, if so, why? Broken friendships happened all the time. Ali’s childhood had been dominated by the drama of fallouts and make-ups. Karin had given him a glimpse of the fractures that had ended their friendship. A summer of discontent, spoiled by their infatuation with the singer in the band. He had laughed self-consciously when she hinted that he was the reason for the jealously that had pulsed between them. Was it that memory that had caused Nadine’s face to flush with such unguarded animosity the night she discovered Karin’s business card? Women. Jake shook his head. He would never understand the elephantine nature of their memory cells.
The following morning when he returned to Sea Aster Nadine had dropped her reply about Eleanor’s conference through his letterbox. It consisted of two words, heavily underlined. No way!
CHAPTER 24
NADINE
It’s after one in the morning when my mobile phone rings. The number is unfamiliar, the female voice clipped with authority. She’s calling from Emergency in the Mater Hospital. Eleanor Saunders has been admitted by ambulance after suffering ‘a sudden turn.’ The nurse is unable to contact Jake and I’m second on the list of Eleanor’s next of kin.
I’ve never know Eleanor to be ill. Her redoubtable nature is capable of scaring off the most persistent germs. What does ‘a sudden turn’ imply? And where is Jake? His van is missing…as usual. I leave a message on his mobile and drive to the hospital. Eleanor is still on a trolley in Emergency, ashen-faced, her voice muffled behind an oxygen mask.
‘Such a fuss about nothing.’ She pulls the mask aside and squints at me. Her lips are drained of colour. ‘It’s a total overreaction. Where’s Jake?’
‘I don’t know. What happened to you?’
‘A touch of indigestion. I called my doctor. Before I knew what he was doing there was an ambulance outside. I’m furious with him.’
‘He wouldn’t have called an ambulance unless he was worried about you. What are your symptoms – ’
‘Ah! At last you’re here.’ She looks beyond me and flaps her hands outwards, exasperated palms exposed. ‘About time, too. Where were you until this hour?’
Jake’s hair is ruffled, the collar of his shirt turned in on one side.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I came as soon as I got the message.’
‘But where were you?’ Eleanor repeats. ‘Why didn’t you answer your phone? I had to depend on Nadine to leave her bed to come here. With all the free time you have these days I thought I could depend on you to look after me.’
‘I was with friends.’ He’s tight-lipped, embarrassed, avoiding my eyes.
He came from her bed. That much is clear. She might as well have scrawled her lipstick across his forehead, attached strands of tumbleweed hair to his jacket. Not my business… not my business… it’s highly inappropriate to be wondering whose bed my husband occupied, and if it’s still warm, when his mother could be dying in front of our eyes from ‘a sudden turn.’ But, unlike behaviour, our thoughts are not controlled by a moral code and I search for signs that will betray him. Nothing except a shirt collar turned in and the buttons out of kilter. He looks around for a doctor to consult. A nurse arrives and fixes Eleanor’s oxygen mask back into position.
‘Please don’t touch this again, Eleanor,’ she warns. ‘This mask has a function and should not be treated like a snorkel.’
Eleanor heaves with impatience and Jake follows the nurse, who is hurrying towards an elderly man about to fall from his trolley.
‘They’re monitoring your blood pressure,’ Jake says when he returns. ‘It’s on the high side but your ECG is okay. They’re waiting for the results of blood tests.’
‘How soon can I be discharged?’
‘First they need to discover the reason you’re here.’
Two hours later we’re still waiting in Emergency. The ward fizzes with bad temper, exhaustion and lack of space. An elderly woman in the next cubicle yells ‘Nurse… Nurse… Nurse’ with agonising repetitiveness.
I find a coffee dispenser and return with two cartons for myself and Jake.
‘Overcrowding in our hospitals. You should make that the main issue for debate at your party conference,’ says Jake. ‘
Eleanor snatches the oxygen mask from her face. ‘We’re a one-issue party, Jake, as you very well know. Tell one of those children I want to be discharged immediately.’ She points to a line of young doctors standing before a bank of computers. Steam hisses from the mask when she places it back into position.
‘I certainly will not,’ Jake replies. ‘You heard the nurse. You must wait until your blood results come back.’
Eventually, when the results have been checked and Eleanor is on her feet again, we’re called into a consulting room by a doctor with gritty eyes and the ashen pallor of an insomniac. He looks younger than Sam.
‘I’m Doctor Noonan.’ He waits until we’re seated in front of his desk before continuing. ‘All your tests are clear, Eleanor, except for your blood pressure, which is elevated. We’re organising a blood pressure monitor over a twenty-four hour period. Have you been acutely worried about anything in the recent past?’
‘Acute is an understatement, Doctor.’
‘My mother is actively involved in politics,’ Jake explains. ‘That creates its own tensions.’
‘Allow me to speak for myself, Jake.’ Eleanor turns back to the doctor. ‘Politics is child’s play compared to my family life but that is neither here nor there. What exactly is the matter with me?’
‘We intend booking you in for some further tests but it seems clear that you’re displaying classic symptoms of panic and anxiety. Do you have a previous history of stress?’
‘She thrives on stress,’ says Jake, be
fore Eleanor can reply. ‘It’s embedded in her psyche.’
‘The dangers of stress cannot be undermined.’ Dr Noonan frowns at Jake’s flippancy. ‘I’m aware of your political background, Eleanor. You’ve reached an age when it’s advisable to take things easier…’ He falters when he sees my mother-in-law’s expression. ‘I’m thinking of your health, Eleanor.’
‘Mrs Saunders, if you don’t mind. I’d appreciate some gravitas if you insist on discussing my advancing years.’
‘Mrs Saunders, I urge you not to ignore my advice.’ He glances nervously at his notes and draws courage from the written word. ‘I’m going to prescribe blood pressure tablets and a mild sedative to alleviate your immediate symptoms. This is just a short-term measure but the overriding issue that brought about this episode needs to be addressed. Otherwise, you’ll be prone to another attack and that could have more serious consequences.’
‘Thank you for your advice, Doctor.’ She glances from Jake to me and nods. ‘I’m sure my son and his wife will do everything in their power to ensure that my life, political and personal, is kept free from stress from now on.’
CHAPTER 25
JAKE
Protecting Marriage in a Dysfunctional Society was written in red on a banner above the stage in the Orbit Hotel. Cora Reynolds, whom Jake had known since he was a boy, escorted him and Nadine to the front row.
‘This weekend has been amazing,’ she whispered as she removed two Reserved signs. ‘We’ve had wonderful speeches from our international guests and the workshops have been so energising. We’re zapped up and ready to rock.’
‘You always were a rocker,’ said Jake. He liked Cora, who used to bring him sweets whenever she came to his house for First Affiliation meetings. She was different to the other activists, the women with sanctified faces and intractable hearts and the colourless men in dark suits that draw any remaining vitality deep into the seams. Did she know the truth about his marriage? If so, she was the only member of the party who did.
‘I’m so glad you could both make it.’ Cora continued her furtive whispering. ‘Eleanor has prepared an inspiring speech. She’s going to knock the socks off that lot.’ She rolled her eyes towards a group of smartly dressed younger members seated a few rows back.
These days First Affiliation had a new dynamic. He had noticed it at Rosanna’s funeral where the younger members formed a separate group from the older ones still surrounding Eleanor. Their leader-in-waiting, Lorna Mason, with her swinging pelmet of brown hair and modulated tones, would project a softer, more media-friendly image than his mother’s usual combative approach.
‘Are they giving her a hard time?’ Jake whispered back.
Cora nodded. ‘Let’s just say Eleanor knows how to keep them in their place.’
‘What does she use?’ he asked. ‘Rubber bullets or water cannon?’
‘Oh, Jake, you are a scream.’ Cora stifled a short, sharp giggle. ‘Sit down there now and enjoy the rest of the evening.’
The conference room filled with anticipation as the audience waited for their leader to deliver her keynote address. Eleanor’s appearance roused them to a standing ovation. She allowed the applause to reach a certain momentum before silencing them with a graceful wave.
‘Thank you… thank you… my dear friends,’ she said. ‘I’m sure you’ll all agree that the weekend has been an inspiring and stimulating experience for each and every one of us.’ The applause that greeted this statement was again silenced after a suitable interval. ‘Our distinguished panel of speakers left us with much to consider as we go forward into the next stage of our action campaign. But it is your attendance here, all of you united in our common core values, that has made this conference such an extraordinary success. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you. I also want to thank my family, my son Jake and his beloved wife, Nadine, for their unwavering support over the years and for the years to come.’
‘Cunning, conniving, controlling cow,’ muttered Nadine from the side of her mouth.
Working in Lustrous was honing her alliterative skills, Jake thought. Her feet, slender in red shoes, tapped so rapidly against the floor that he feared she was going to stand and walk out.
He placed his arm across the back of her chair and hissed, ‘Calm down. We agreed to go through the motions but this is the last time… the last time…’ He looked towards the stage and found himself face-to-face with a television camera. Instinctively, he and Nadine smiled as the camera swamped them in its lens then moved on.
‘We believe that the edifice of marriage is supported by the two sturdy pillars of husband and wife.’ Eleanor’s voice rang with conviction. ‘Marital love is the foundation upon which our edifice stands, but that love brings responsibilities. Outside forces will try to convince us that marriage, in all its beautiful manifestations, is an old-fashioned custom, quaint and outdated, like foot binding, for instance.’
Nadine stiffened. ‘She’s stealing my lines.’ She sounded more astonished than angry.
‘Shush,’ hissed a voice from behind.
‘Civil partnership or gay marriage – should such a law be introduced – will undermine the core principals of our party,’ Eleanor continued. ‘I don’t have to spell out the consequences that will result from such liaisons. The demands these people will make on our already fractured, dysfunctional society. ’
‘Bring it on!’ A female voice yelled from the centre of the hall.
‘Bring it on!’ echoed a second voice, male this time.
More voices joined in, each chanting the same slogan. Eleanor’s mouth opened and closed, her words inaudible in the growing tumult.
‘Is a beloved union between wife and wife not equally blessed in the sight of God?’ This voice had a familiar ring and Jake swallowed convulsively when he recognised it.
Nadine, who had turned to stare at the protestors, swung her head towards Jake. ‘That’s Feral Childe,’ she gasped. ‘What’s she doing here?’
‘She probably came with her wife.’
‘What?’
‘Her wife,’ he repeated. ‘Didn’t I tell you Feral was married?’
‘You certainly did not! Which one is her wife?’
‘Sit down.’ He pulled her arm until she collapsed back into the chair. ‘I don’t want her to see me. Her wife’s the leader of a gay rights activist group.’
‘Do they know Eleanor is your mother?’
‘What do you think? It’s not something I’m inclined to boast about. ‘
The members of First Affiliation were on their feet, booing at the group of men and women holding banners that proclaimed Gay Marriage is Our Right! and God Does Not Differentiate!
The protest group was unceremoniously escorted from the hall by four heavy-set security men. Eventually, when the door slammed behind them, Eleanor continued her speech. She had lost her audience, who whispered among themselves, their impatience obvious as they waited for her to finish.
‘Let’s go,’ said Nadine as soon as the short standing ovation ended and the audience surged from their seats.
The gay rights activists were continuing to protest outside the hotel. Journalists shoved microphones towards Maggie Childe-Doyle and demanded to know how she and Feral, as a married couple, felt about being denied the right to participate in the conference. Without waiting to hear her reply Jake sprinted towards Nadine’s car. He had been ordered by Eleanor not to bring his band van to the conference. Once inside the car they stared at each other.
‘Don’t you dare make me laugh,’ Nadine warned.
‘As if I would.’
‘My mascara will run.’
‘Not as fast as I’ll run if Eleanor discovers one of the chief hecklers is the drummer in my band.’
‘Oh, Jake… Eleanor’s face…’ Nadine bent over the steering wheel, her shoulders heaving. ‘I shouldn’t be laughing… I shouldn’t,’ she gasped. ‘And neither should you. It’s cruel.’
‘You’re right about the mascara,’ he s
aid.
‘I’m like a panda.’ She pulled down the front mirror and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. ‘I actually thought you and Feral were… you know…’
‘You what? Are you mad? She’s a married woman.’ It was good to laugh with her again. ‘Fancy going for a drink?’ he asked. ‘I need one after that shemozzle.’
In The Boot Inn he ordered two glasses of wine and listened, astonished, when she told him about Stuart’s extraordinary invitation. The conference had banished the tension between them and it was almost like old times when they talked about the children. Ali had joined a drama group and was waiting tables three afternoons a week in a tapas bar. The twins, according to Samantha, were cleaning out the student vomitorium. Roughly translated, this meant tending the student bar in Silver Ridge University. Jake admitted to his frustration with the slow progress of the band. Reedy and Feral were professional musicians with other commitments and the date had passed for the come-back launch. Hart was worried about falling membership at Hartland to Health and Daryl – who once offered to sell his soul to Satan if it helped him play his guitar better than The Edge – had a full-time job and a baby daughter who was turning into a terrorist. They looked upon the band as a hobby, a light relief from the stresses of the day. To place Shard in the same category as wood-whittling or plane-spotting was insulting but Jake understood their reluctance to give more time to it.
Nadine had lost weight. Not a lot but enough to give her figure an added sleekness.
‘Stress is the new liposuction,’ she joked when he commented.