Sisteria

by Sue Margolis

  Standing there on the roof, she suddenly began toying with the idea of having some kind of professional future. Not in telly. She laughed. That was absurd. She may have performed well in front of the camera for a first-timer, but she was nothing like as talented as Naomi and never would be. Eric Rowe would see that in a flash. No, to consider for one minute that she was about to be offered a job as a television presenter was laughable. But it wasn’t laughable to think that in a year or so she might start a masters degree, or go back to teaching. She’d only taught for a few months. She’d given up when Natalie was born. Or, maybe now that she’d suddenly found her voice, perhaps she might even read for the bar. For a few brief moments, she was able to suppress her gnawing anxiety about Melvin and think about herself - about how far she’d come and where she was heading.

  ***

  Queenie and the rest of the demonstrators went down first, followed by the film crew. Beverley stood watching from the roof as the old people came out of the building and were immediately mobbed by their relatives. A reporter from the Evening Standard, as well as a pair from GLR and 5 Live, were doing their best to push their way to the front of the scrum. She and Naomi, who by now had pretty much sobered up, came down last.

  When they reached the ground floor, Fallopia was standing at the bottom of the stairs, her breasts forming an enormous continental shelf under her baggy rainbow sweater. Naomi fell into her arms, sobbing.

  ‘He sacked me,’ she cried into Fallopia’s shoulder. ‘That bastard sacked me.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Fallopia soothed with the stomach-churning tenderness of the lovesick. Her feelings for Naomi had clearly caused her to go soft. ‘Don’t worry,’ she went on, ‘Pia’s here. I’ll have you home in two shakes, Pookie-Wookie.’

  ‘Pookie-Wookie?’ Beverley repeated under her breath, barely able to stifle her giggles.

  She looked at her sister while Fallopia comforted her. The red suit was filthy and ruined. Her hair was all over the place. Her white face was streaked with mascara. She looked wretched, drained and exhausted. Anybody who knew her could see at a glance that the fire which had once roared inside Naomi Gold’s belly had finally been extinguished. After a few moments she lifted her head from Fallopia’s shoulder and turned towards Beverley.

  ‘Bev,’ she said almost in a whisper.

  ‘What, Nay?’ Beverley said tenderly.

  Naomi sniffed.

  ‘A big part of me did genuinely want that baby, you know. Pia will tell you - there’s this blinkin’ great cupboard back at my flat filled with teddies and baby clothes. Every night I used to go to bed reading Penelope Leach. I know all about colic and what to do when their pooh goes a bit green.’

  Beverley smiled.

  ‘I’m a mess, Bev. I know that now. Please don’t hate me.’

  ‘I don’t hate you.’ Beverley walked over to her sister and put her arms round her. ‘None of us do.’

  ‘You mean that?’ Naomi blubbed, returning the hug.

  Beverley held her tighter and patted her on the back.

  ‘Yes, I mean it.’

  They carried on holding each other for a few minutes. By this time even Fallopia had tears in her eyes.

  ‘I promise I’ll look after her, Beverley,’ she said. ‘Girl Guide’s honour and all that.’

  ‘I’m sure you will,’ Beverley said, letting go of her sister. ‘So, Nay, what are your plans now?’

  Naomi sniffed.

  ‘Well, for a start I think it’s time to get my head sorted.’

  ‘That’s the ticket, Pookie,’ Fallopia said heartily, giving Naomi a quick squeeze. ‘Find yerself a trick cyclist, chin up, chest out. We’ll soon have you back on your feet.’

  Naomi and Fallopia gazed adoringly at one another for a few seconds.

  ‘Maybe I’ll book into Melvin’s place for a few days,’ Naomi said. ‘God knows how you managed to get him in there, Bev. I always understood the Friary was strictly A-list.’

  ‘A few days?’ Beverley repeated in astonishment, stoically ignoring her sister’s barb. She was thinking more in terms of months, after which she imagined Naomi still needing to visit the Friary as an outpatient for several decades.

  ‘Yes. I mean I’m not bonkers. Not like Mel. I’ve just been working in a high-stress career for far too long and I need a bit of a rest, that’s all. God, I wonder who’ll be in my group therapy? Imagine the kind of names you get to share your angst with. Then I have to think about what clothes to pack. I’d guess it’s pretty informal during the day and smart casual at dinner.’

  Beverley smiled and shook her head. A huge part of her couldn’t help feeling relieved that Eric Rowe hadn’t succeeded in knocking all the stuffing out of her sister.

  ‘Look, Pookie,’ Fallopia said, interrupting Naomi, who seemed to have lost herself in her reverie on mental institution chic. ‘Perhaps now would be the time to give Beverley our other bit of news. You know...’

  ‘Oh, God, yes. I nearly forgot.’

  She blushed like an awkward schoolgirl and turned back to Beverley.

  ‘The two of us are planning to get married. I mean, it won’t be a proper wedding like you understand it. We thought perhaps a Wiccan ceremony in Cornwall. Both of us would really love you to be there. You would come, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘’Course,’ Beverley said beaming. ‘We’ll all come.’

  Fallopia grinned with delight and hoiked up her bosom.

  ‘And I’d be more than happy to take you out to choose something to wear,’ Naomi gushed. ‘I mean it won’t be easy, ’cos you’re bound to be pretty porky still, after having the baby.’

  Beverley didn’t get a chance to reply. At that moment Queenie came over, half-trotting half-limping.

  ‘Sorry, blinkin’ reporters. Couldn’t get away. Nay, darling, you OK now?’

  ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ Naomi took a deep breath. ‘Look, Mum, I’ve treated you so badly. I know you’ll find it hard to forgive me... but you know how we’ve never really sat down and talked about the past? Well, I was wondering whether maybe, if you had the time and you weren’t too tired, you could come over to the flat now and the two of us could sit down and have a...’

  ‘Lead the way,’ Queenie said, beaming. Naomi’s words weren’t merely music to her ears - it was as if Mantovani and his entire orchestra had just turned up.

  ‘The only thing is,’ Naomi explained, ‘I’ve got guests coming for dinner, so you can’t stay long. The caterer’s due around five. Maybe you could give her a hand in the kitchen before you go. You know, bash lemon grass stems, do the kumquats, shell the quails’ eggs, that sort of thing.’

  ‘There’s a lot I need to say to you too,’ Queenie went on, failing to register that her daughter’s attempt at reconciliation largely involved pressing her into domestic service. ‘A lot I have to say sorry for and explain. Tell you what, I’ll make you my special pancakes like I did when the two of you were little.’

  ‘What?’ Naomi and Beverley gasped in gobsmacked unison.

  ‘Mum,’ Beverley said, ‘You never made us pancakes in your life. The only person who made us pancakes was old Mrs Woodcock next door, who used to take pity on us when you disappeared for hours on end.’

  ‘Oh well, I knew somebody must have made them,’ Queenie shrugged. ‘Now then, let’s go.’ With that, she put her arm through Naomi’s. Then she smiled at Fallopia, who appeared to be bemused but not untaken with this little old Jewish lady, and took hold of her arm too. The three women said their tearful goodbyes and headed towards the door.

  ‘So, Fallopia,’ Queenie said, ‘Beverley tells me you’re a lesbian. How are things in Beirut these days?’

  ***

  Beverley hadn’t had the heart to put the dampers on Queenie’s happiness by telling her about Melvin. She would phone her at Naomi’s later, when she had some news - whatever that turned out to be.

  She waited in the canteen while Sergeant Capstick put in another call to the Richmond police. Her anxiety was
mounting by the minute. After all the excitement and elation of the last couple of hours, she suddenly felt sick. He was dead, she knew it. It was her fault. She should have carried on driving round the park. Instead she’d abandoned him. Left him to his leafy gallows.

  She wandered over to the canteen window. As she stood watching the cars queuing to get out of the car park, she noticed a rather anxious-looking woman hovering a few yards from the front of the building. She was wearing a navy suit, trainers and a headscarf. Her face had a definite trace of five o’clock shadow.

  ‘Melvin,’ yelped Beverley as she raced to the door.

  ***

  It took him a minute to calm her down. The second she reached him she hugged the life out of him. She followed this with a breathless, tear-laden stream of half-sentences about how she’d thought he was dead and that it was all her fault he wanted to kill himself.

  ‘I’ll never forgive myself. Never. You have to believe me, Tom means nothing to me. I’ve already finished it. I know we can start again, Mel, I just know it. We’ll go away. Just the two of us. That’s it, we’ll find some sun...’

  ‘Beverley,’ he said gently, gripping her upper arms, ‘look at me. Read my lips. I am not suicidal and I never have been. I know you love Tom. I was angry, very briefly, after I found the letter, but not any more. You must believe me. And I’m not running away so much as running to something - or, to be more exact, someone.’

  ‘Someone?’ she sniffed, wiping her eyes and dripping nose on her sleeve. ‘I don’t understand. What someone?’

  ***

  ‘Rebecca? I’m just so shocked,’ she said to Melvin. They’d been sitting in the coffee shop over the road from the day centre for well over an hour, and in all that time, her incredulity had failed to abate. She picked up her chocolate éclair - her third - and bit off the end.

  ‘I mean, it’s been twenty years,’ she went on. ‘I thought you hated her.’

  ‘I think I did for a while,’ he said, scratching his head under the silk headscarf. ‘When she first made it big. Do you think it’s possible to love and hate somebody at the same time?’ He drained his coffee cup.

  ‘’S‘pose,’ she shrugged. ‘You want another coffee?’

  He nodded. Beverley turned in her seat and caught the eye of the girl standing behind the refrigerated counter full of cakes.

  ‘You angry with me, Bev?’ he said, reaching across the Formica table and taking her hand.

  ‘Bit, I guess,’ she replied with a weak smile. ‘I mean, you’re jetting off to Rebecca and I walked out on Tom to save our marriage. I mean, it’s a bit bleeding ironic.’

  ‘Does he love you?’ Melvin said.

  ‘He did. Before I dumped him.’

  ‘Then he’ll forgive you and take you back. After all, that’s his baby you’ve got in there.’

  ‘I hope you’re right. Mel, I treated him so badly.’

  She looked up. The waitress was standing in front of them, ogling Melvin. She’d been staring at him from the moment they walked in an hour ago.

  ‘Two more cappuccinos, please,’ Beverley said. The girl carried on gawping. Her eyes were fixed on Melvin’s bosom.

  Beverley tugged at the girl’s apron.

  ‘Two more cappuccinos, please,’ she repeated.

  ‘Oh, right,’ the girl said, still staring at Melvin. It was a full ten seconds before she turned back to the counter.

  ‘Your left tit’s disappeared,’ Beverley said with a giggle when the waitress had gone.

  He felt under the navy jacket, located the bundle of socks, which had somehow ended up in the small of his back, and turning in his seat, so that he had his back to the counter, manoeuvred it into his bra. Beverley sat watching him, and try as she might, she couldn’t stop herself giggling.

  ‘And you forgot to shave your legs,’ she said. ‘Blokes find that a big turn-off.’ She popped the last piece of éclair into her mouth.

  ‘So,’ she went on, ‘does Rebecca feel the same way about you?’

  He shrugged.

  ‘Maybe. When I phoned her, I got the feeling she was genuinely pleased to hear from me. She also said that not a day had gone by when she didn’t think about me or wonder how I was doing. Apparently when Brad finally walked out on her a few months ago - he’d been screwing around for years - she said she had this desperate urge to phone me, but she didn’t because she didn’t want you to find out and get suspicious.’

  Beverley nodded.

  ‘So what made you decide to escape from the Friary?’

  ‘Simple. She invited me to come and stay. She also said she’d spent the last twenty years feeling guilty that I’d never seen a penny from Tower of Bagel - after all, it was my idea.’

  ‘So, what - she’s gonna start offering you money?’

  ‘Maybe, we’ll see. But anyway, as far as I knew, Wim had no plans to release me, so I phoned Vladimir.’

  ‘Vladimir?’ she said incredulously. ‘What, the bloke who did you out of the five grand?’

  ‘Yeah. In the end he came up trumps. Having dropped out of sight for ages, he finally contacted me at the Friary. Alma told him I was there. Said he was terribly sorry about the anti-snoring devices, that there had been some production difficulties at the plant in Irkutsk and that he’d refunded the five grand directly into my bank account.’

  ‘Blimey. There’s a turn-up. So he helped you get out of the hospital?’

  ‘Yeah, I told him the whole Rebecca story. Turns out he’s a bit of a romantic on the quiet... got dead excited, in fact. He said if I could get out of the building he’d wait for me on the main road. We drove around for a bit, trying to work out where would be safe to go, and then we heard about the day centre on the GLR news...’

  The waitress arrived with the cappuccinos. As she set them on the table, she was almost doubled up with giggles. They ignored her.

  ‘I need to see her, Bev. I have to find out if there’s even a remote possibility of us recapturing what we once had.’

  ‘So when are you off?’ she asked, picking up a spoonful of cappuccino froth and putting it in her mouth.

  He looked at her for a few moments before answering.

  ‘Tonight. Ten o’clock.’

  She put down her spoon and nodded slowly.

  ‘Tonight? But what about the kids? We’ve got so much explaining to do.’

  ‘They’ll be here in ten minutes. I sent Vlad to pick them up from school. It’s OK. Don’t panic. I know they don’t know him. I phoned the school first to explain.’

  ‘God knows what I’m going to tell the police.’

  ‘You don’t have to say a word,’ he said. ‘I’ll phone Wim in a few days.’

  ‘What about the business?’

  ‘I thought you had enough on your plate, so I phoned Mitchell and asked him if he’d mind handling the sale. He agreed. Plus he’s lent me some money to tide me over. I’m skint since I paid off the overdraft. I hope you don’t mind, but I felt more comfortable asking him than you.’

  ‘No, that’s OK.’

  Suddenly there was a desperate sadness in her eyes.

  ‘Wassup?’ he said gently.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘I’m worried about how the kids are going to cope with all this. Don’t forget Benny’s got his exams in a few weeks.’

  ‘And Natalie’s got her baptism,’ he chuckled.

  ‘Oh, God, don’t remind me.’ She took a mouthful of coffee. ‘Plus I suppose I’m just sad about us,’ she said.

  ‘What? That we didn’t make it?’

  ‘Yeah... that we didn’t make it.’ She gave a half smile.

  He stood up and walked round to where she was sitting. Then he pulled her up out of her seat and held her to him.

  ‘I’ll always care about you, you know,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah, me too,’ she said, tears tumbling down her face. ‘Me too.’

  He took a ten-pound note out of his wallet and placed it under the stainless-steel sugar bowl. His
arm round Beverley’s shoulders, they walked to the door. Neither noticed his right tit falling out from underneath his blouse, leaving a trail of socks across the coffee shop floor. Odd socks.

  ***

  They walked back to the day centre car park. It was obvious even from a distance that Vlad was there because the Impala was. As they got closer, they could see Vladimir standing smoking a cigarette next to the ancient white monster with its years-out-of-date New York plates.

  ‘Ah, Myel-vin, my friend, and this must be Beverley. You must not worry. You will soon find new husband. You are very beautiful woman. Here, let me show you. I have photograph of my unmarried brother in Tomsk.’ He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and started searching through it. ‘His name is Ivan. Back in Russia he was concert pianist. To tell the truth, he wasn’t that good. In fact he was pretty bad... so bad the newspapers called him Ivan the Terrible. Good joke, no, Myel-vin? Now he is television repair man. When he began he wasn’t so great at that either, but he’s getting better. Last year he only blew up three TVs...’

  Beverley smiled politely.

  ‘Another time, eh, Vlad,’ Melvin said. ‘We really need to talk to the children now.’

  ‘Sure, Myel-vin. Sure. They’re in Impala. I stay outside while you have big family chest-to-chest.’

  ***

  Beverley and Melvin climbed into the front of the Impala.

  ‘Oh my God,’ the children cried as one when they saw Melvin.

  ‘Dad? Is that you?’ Natalie gasped, bursting into fits of giggles.

  The explaining seemed to go on forever. First came the story of Melvin’s escape in drag. Then Melvin decided to go right back to the beginning and tell the saga of his student relationship with Rebecca and the setting-up of Tower of Bagel. Finally he explained how he thought he was still in love with Rebecca and Beverley told them about her relationship with Tom.

  ‘Oh my God,’ Natalie said. ‘So you’re splitting up?’

  Beverley and Melvin exchanged anxious glances and then nodded.

  Natalie immediately burst into noisy sobs and Benny started biting his bottom lip to stop the tears.