Take It Easy

by Pat Rosier

  ~~~

  Chapter 23

  As July turned into August the unseasonably warm weather turned into a more usual cold wind, rain, hail and snow mixture with a few high temperature spots now and then in parts of the country, but not Wellington. Mark Todd was outed for homosexual and drug activity in an English layby. In parliament, tension was mounting over proposed labour law changes, with the Labour Government under fire from both business and the Green Party. Iris was fascinated — and outraged at the media coverage — by the former; and Isobel was engaged, by her position in the Clerk’s office, with the latter. Isobel liked that they had much that was outside of themselves to talk about. There were phone calls from Shirley, too, mostly to ask questions of Iris about the work she had done in Melbourne, which made opportunities for Shirley and Isobel to talk, about nothing of real consequence on the whole, but more conversation than they had had with each other for thirty years. Andrew had developed the habit of emailing each weekend, chatting mostly, but also letting Isobel know he had a new love and that Neil had taken a job selling mobile phones. On impulse Isobel had rung Neil and said she was sorry he wasn’t getting enough production work.

  ‘Way it goes,’ he responded. As far as she could tell, he was more pleased that she had rung than embarrassed at what he called his downturn. Sophie, he told her, was overseas yet again, Singapore this time. ‘She earns enough for both of us,’ he said, ‘but I can’t bring myself to be a completely kept man. If I was a woman I’d probably have babies, except that would ruin our social life.’ At which Isobel was speechless, until he said, ‘bad joke,’ and went on to talk of his and Sophie’s plans to come down for a long winter weekend at her family’s Wairarapa bach in a few weeks and their hope that Iris and Isobel would join them for a day or two.

  From time to time Isobel became aware of feeling it strange that she suddenly had so much to do with members of her family. This awareness was followed quickly by guilt that she kept forgetting about Daniel, or not quite following through on making contact with him. If she rang and there was no-one home she didn’t leave a message. If she thought of ringing him or dropping by and something interrupted her, the thought did not return.

  On the Thursday of the second week in August in the evening, with the northwesterly gale that had been blowing all day still battering the house, Isobel rang and again got the answerphone. She was surprised they were not home on such a wild night. Iris suggested some phones around town might be out and that she stick a note on the phone to remind her to try again, later or tomorrow. Work on Friday was extremely busy and she and Iris met up at the end of the day and joined friends to try out a new Indian place in Newtown. Thoughts of Daniel flickered dimly at the back of Isobel’s mind when they talked of mutual friends who were sick or stressed or unhappy. The conversation turned to their own aging, how they would want to be housed and cared for as old lesbians, what they should be doing now to make it happen.

  ‘We’re not going to do anything, are we, not yet,’ Iris said as they were going to bed. ‘I’m certainly not thinking about my decrepit old age yet, I’ve got too many undecrepit things to do first.’

  ‘Careful,’ said Isobel lightly, ‘there’s always the chance of an accident ….’

  ‘Always.’

  ‘Sorry, that was thoughtless.’

  ‘Never mind, I know what you meant. But I’ve been thinking …’ Iris wanted them to take three months off, next year in their winter, and travel. ‘To Europe, for old things,’ she said, ‘and somewhere neither of us has been before, for adventure … South America … Asia.’

  ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Ankor Wat,’ said Isobel. ‘That’s old — and new — to us that is. And Europe’s good.’ By the time they went to sleep a plan was taking shape.

  They never went to the Wairarapa with Neil and Sopie but had them in for lunch on their way. Sophie was tiny and smart and talked quickly, with a little laugh at the end of her sentences. Not a nervous laugh, thought Isobel, she had self confidence coming out of her pores. She referred often to places she’d been, people she knew, and Neil knew most of the people and had been to many of the places.

  ‘I felt a bit like a country cousin,’ Iris said when they left, ‘but they were kind of fun.’ Isobel was pleased she didn’t make a thing of having met him at last.

  And in November Chris and Eleni came over for a long weekend. It was fine enough to take a picnic to Queen Elizabeth Park and ride the tram to the beach. They all laughed a lot. They were lounging on rugs on the sand when Isobel asked Eleni how her work was going and it transpired that she was just starting on a major project that would likely take two or three years, developing computer programming for a sophisticated water-flow modeling project.

  ‘She’s going to be the big earner in this family,’ Chris said, lying on his back, a hand shading his eyes from the sun. ‘If I could have babies we could get going on a family but given … well, the obvious, it might take a bit longer. I reckon I’d be a great stay-at-home father though, what do you think, Mum?’

  ‘Neil said that,’ said Isobel. Nobody noticed. The bit about having a baby, anyway, she thought, drawing a stick family in the sand.

  Iris took a moment to reply. ‘Well, I guess you will be a good father. Especially with the good mothering you had yourself.' And she lifted Chris’s t-shirt and poured a handful of sand on his stomach. Isobel saw Eleni watching Iris, noticing the look on her face that didn’t match her playful actions and told herself to relax and lay down, careless of getting sand in her hair.

  ‘It was good having Chris in the house again,’ said Isobel, as they walked back to the car after waving him and Eleni into the airport boarding area. ‘I love that guy.’

  ‘Me too.' Iris wiped her eyes one at a time with the back of her hand.

  A few days before Christmas Isobel called Iris to come and look at an email from Andrew. 'The new relationship didn’t work out', he wrote, 'and the coming holiday break is looming rather, well, lonely, and I wonder how you – and Iris of course – would feel about me coming down to Wellington for a few days and hanging out with you a bit.'

  ‘Well, there’s a turn-up,’ Iris said. She had talked to Andew on a the phone a couple of times. ‘Why not? Ask him to stay.’ They had already arranged to have Sally and Daniel around on Christmas day, and Nathan who had been back to Dunedin for a couple of months dealing with what Sally called, the detritus of his marriage. He had come back to talk about possibly moving to Wellington and joining his mother in the antique shop.

  ‘Imagine that, Christmas with,’ — Iris held up four fingers and wiggled one —, ‘four members of your family, including one of those absent boys. I’d never have guessed.’ And she ruffled Isobel’s hair and went back to reading the Saturday paper.

  Christmas day had its awkward moments. Nathan and Andrew weren’t finding common ground. Sally was on edge. Iris spent a long time on the phone to Chris. But everyone made an effort as they sat around the table and ate appreciatively. A turkey cooked by Iris was the nod to tradition, the accompaniments were made up of several salads and the dessert was fresh strawberries and cream and expensive Belgian chocolate brought by Andrew. Daniel was brighter than Isobel had seen him for months. He had started playing bridge, partnering a sprightly 82-year-old, Joan, who picked him up, he insisted, in the public library because he happened to be glancing at a bridge magazine. He entertained them all with the story, how Joan had been widowed for many years and had played bridge two nights a week with Ellen until she died a couple of months earlier. ‘She’s a damn good teacher,’ he said, ‘and you’d be surprised how much there is on the web about the finer points of the game.‘

  ‘Good on you, Dad.’ Nathan was a fraction too hearty. ‘Bet you never thought there’d be another woman in his life who’s thirty years older than you,’ he said to his mother, who shook her head and looked down and they all felt uncomfortable.

  Isobel stood up and said, ‘Anyone for a walk?’ as Iris came in fro
m the phone holding Barney’s lead. Sally wanted to go home so Nathan and Daniel went with her and the other three went to the park. Andrew was definitely a person who asked questions; he grilled Iris about her family. ‘All dead,’ she told him, except for Chris.’ Then he asked about her work and Isobel stopped paying attention. Two women she knew, Rei and a work colleague were to have breast biopsies straight after the holidays, following suspicious mammograms. Rei was making light of it, Karen from work had been terrified and obsessed when Isobel last spoke to her, amassing information from the internet. Keep healthy, Iris, she said to herself. Andrew and Iris had pulled ahead, Barney was running about. Andrew was pretty easy to get along with, Isobel thought, but she still felt more relaxed with Chris than with either of her boys. Stands to reason, she heard Iris in her head, you know him.

  ~~~

  Chapter 24

  On the first of March 2001 Isobel and Iris made their flight bookings for a trip that would start with Cambodia in June and end in London in late August. Chris was fully back at work, Isobel was content with the amount of contact she had with Neil and Andrew. Neil was more inclinded to short, snappy exchanges from here and there, Andrew would call in the evening or at the weekend for a chat that usually lasted a while. He had passed on a message from Joyce that it would be nice to be in touch, but Isobel wasn’t inclined to. Rei was dealing with post-mastectomy radiation and lymphoedema so a lot of their contact with their friends was around that, and Rhonda and Ben were spending all the time they could in Greytown, where his father had had a stroke and his mother was becoming increasingly confused.

  Isobel had rung Daniel and Sally a few times and ended up leaving answerphone messages, which were replied to with more of the same. They were making jokes in their messages about never talking to a real person. On a Saturday afternoon as they drove home after a supermarket trip, Iris was suggesting an hour or two of household chores followed by soup and scones and a trawl through the pile of brochures about European cities they’d both been bringing home.

  ‘We’ll have to make some decisions soon,’ Iris said, 'I don’t want to be doing ten cities in ten days.’

  ‘Sounds great,’ said Isobel.

  ‘I can hear a “but” in there.’

  ‘Yeah. I’d like to drop you and the groceries off and nip around to Daniel and Sally’s first, would you mind? Just in case there’s someone home.’

  ‘Mind? No. You’re turning into quite the family girl. Must be my influence,’ said Iris cheerfully. Isobel didn’t want to be annoyed.

  ‘If you’d like to come with me …’ she began, wondering why she was suggesting it.

  ‘No, you go, I feel like a spot of domestic wallowing.’

  They unloaded the car together, then Iris shooed Isobel out of the kitchen before the supermarket bags were unpacked. ‘Go!’ she said. ‘Me and Annie Lennox played loud will get on with this. Give Daniel and Sally my love. And Nathan if he’s still around.’

  It was a long time before Sally answered the door. Isobel was about to give up when her sister-in-law opened it a crack, peered out, then opened it fully and stood back for Isobel to enter, saying, ‘That was quick.’

  ‘Quick?’ Isobel looked at her questioningly, then concerned.

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘Come in here,’ and she was waved into the living room. There was no sign of Daniel. Nathan sat in a chair looking — Isobel couldn’t tell how he was looking but something was amiss.

  ‘I just rang,’ Sally was saying, ‘but the phone was engaged so I left a message.’

  ‘What’s happened? What’s wrong?' Nathan was pale, trembling in the warm room. He looked up at Isobel and she saw his face was white, his eyes wide; he looked very young. After a glance at his mother, he said, without expression, each word coming out of his mouth one at a time, distinct and separate, ‘When Mum and I came back from the shop we found Dad hanging in the garage.’ Then, quietly, ‘you missed the police and ambulance by minutes.’

  Isobel’s hand went to her mouth. “No!’ she said through her fingers, looking at Sally.

  ‘Yes,’ said Sally, expressionless too, ‘As the garage door went up we saw him, saw his feet … dangling ….’

  Isobel sat down. All the colours had vanished from the room. Nathan said, You’ve gone chalky white. I’ll make us a cup of tea.’

  Sally and Isobel looked at each other. Then Sally started talking in that same flat voice, her eyes moving around the room without focusing on anything.

  ‘Nathan and I left for the shop about eight. Daniel was still in bed, I thought he was asleep, he knew we were going and that we’d be back for lunch so there was no need to wake him. We had a good morning. Busy. I sold a dresser that’s well worth its price but has been in the shop for … anyway, we had a nice time together, Nathan likes … anyway, we were chatting away on the drive home, and we pulled into the drive and sat in the car for a minute finishing about something — I forget what — and maybe we were delaying coming in, Daniel’s not been easy to be around again — and we were still talking when I pushed the thingy, you know the remote, and the door started moving up and we saw this chair fallen over and these two feet, then the legs. At least he had his back to the door. And Nathan said, '"Don’t look Mum” and grabbed the thing out of my hand and stopped the door and ran in under it and got him down onto the floor, I don’t know how ….’

  ‘I cut the rope with the secateurs.' Nathan put a tray on the table and sat on the arm of his mother’s chair, resting a hand on her shoulder. ‘And stood so he’d land on my shoulder and lowered him down. Then Mum went and rang 111 and I was sick in the garden. His tongue was … and his eyes … and he’d…,’ he shook his head, and wiped one hand on the other sleeve. ‘I didn’t know ….' He stood up and went to the table. ‘Tea?’ and started pouring without waiting for an answer.

  ‘Were you sure he was … did you … you know, check for a pulse.’

  ‘He was cold. The ambo woman reckoned he’d been dead a couple of hours at least.’

  ‘Oh shit! I can’t believe this. Why would he do it now? He was getting better wasn’t he?’ Isobel looked back and forward from her nephew to her sister-in-law. ‘Wasn’t he?’

  ‘I thought so.’ Sally was staring into her tea. ‘But his doctor — psychiatrist — was talking about a spell in hospital and he hated the idea, he didn’t want …’

  ‘Did he leave a …?’

  ‘Note …? No. We — the police and us — never found anything. It would be typical of Daniel not to leave a note.’

  Isobel was about to ask what she meant by typical when the door opened and Iris walked in.

  ‘Your message …,’ she said to Sally, ‘I picked it up, got a taxi. What …?’

  During the second, shorter, telling Isobel began to believe that Daniel really was dead. And to feel guilt and if only … if only she had rung more persistently… come around more often … not kept forgetting him …. She could have made the difference. She could have.

  ‘Hey.’ Iris was crouched in front of her. ‘Look at me! I can see you thinking what you could have, should have … Stop it!’ She grasped Isobel’s knees in emphasis. ‘Stop it! Now! it’s not your fault! It’s not anyone’s fault!’

  ‘No,’ said Sally, ‘not even mine. But I wish I didn’t feel … so … so …,’ finally she said, shouted almost, ‘relieved! All I can think is that it’s over, it’s over, it’s over. What kind of monster does that make me?’ Her laugh was eerie. She looked at them each in turn.

  ‘It’s all right, Mum.’ Nathan was looking at the other two. ‘We all understand, don’t we …?’ Daring them to disagree. And there was a knock at the front door.

  ‘I’ll go,’ said Iris and the other three sat and listened to the voices, not able to hear the words. ‘It’s an undertaker,’ she said from the doorway, ‘shall I send him away, at least until tomorrow?’

  ‘No,’ said Sally, ‘an hour. Get him to come back in an hour.' She wants something to do,
Isobel thought. Iris came back in and sat down. ‘You can get someone else if you want,’ she said, ‘this one was at the morgue when … anyway … you’re not obligated … I said we’d ring if we wanted …. Bloody vulture!’ she muttered. Isobel smiled in spite of herself and remembered Glynn — no, Gloria — who’d been so good a few years ago when … she couldn’t remember whose mother it was who had died, but she’d noticed Gloria, she’d never come across a woman funeral director before. Iris would know how to get her.

  ‘I have to see him …,’ Isobel heard herself saying.

  ‘No you don’t.’ Nathan was definite.

  ‘Yes she does.' Iris this time. ‘I’m sure once he’s been … whatever … he’ll be … you know ….’

  ‘Oh. I suppose.’ Nathan again.

  Then they were all looking at Sally who hadn’t moved or spoken since she’d said, ‘get him back in an hour,’ and Iris had ignored her request.

  ‘I’m going to the garage.’ Isobel stood up. Iris took her hand and moved with her, Sally and Nathan looked at each other then followed, Nathan holding his mother’s elbow, she leaning slightly into him.

  The ragged end of the rope still hung from the beam running across the middle of the roof. A chair that belonged with a formica table, chrome and red vinyl, had been stood back against the wall. The garage door was down. Sally’s car must still be in the driveway.

  They stood around for a few moments, Isobel staring at the rope, Nathan moving as though to take it down, Iris putting out a hand to stop him.

  ‘Goodbye Daniel.’ Isobel’s were the first tears.

  ‘I’m sorry.’ That was Sally.

  ‘You, know, I’m glad Dad … did something …,’ Nathan’s voice wobbled, ‘though I wish he’d found something different to do.’ He blew his nose.

  ‘Take your time,’ Sally said eventually, moving to the door back into the house, ‘I’m going to start making lists.' Nathan followed her.