The Nothing Girl

by Jodi Taylor

  ‘Tinned salmon,’ she said. ‘He seemed to enjoy it.’

  ‘Of course he bloody enjoyed it,’ said Russell sitting at the kitchen table. ‘Half an hour ago he was sinking to a watery death and now he’s got the warmest spot in the house, gorged himself on a tin of Sainsbury’s finest red salmon, and is now lapping the cream off the top of the milk. What’s not to enjoy?’

  If I thought that drying out would improve his looks then I was wrong. This was not a beautiful cat. He was bigger than I thought, but that might have been because his coat was drying out. He was longhaired so he’d gone fluffy. The bits I could see were a kind of rusty tabby. His tail was odd. Almost F shaped.

  ‘It’s been badly broken at one time,’ said Russell. ‘And he’s covered in lumps, bumps, scars, and burns. This probably ranks as one of his better days. So, when he’s finished, Mrs Crisp will show him out and we’ll be on our way, Jenny. Get your coat.’

  I looked at Mrs Crisp, who looked back at me.

  Russell became aware of the silence.

  ‘We’re not keeping it. It’s wild.’

  ‘He. It’s a he.’

  ‘And yet another reason for not keeping it.’

  ‘No, it’s not,’ said Mrs Crisp who had put on her glasses and done some peering. ‘It’s an ex-he. So he was someone’s pet once, maybe.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Russell. ‘Some little kid is out there sobbing his heart out for his beloved pet. Jenny, how can you be so cruel? Or even worse, some dear old pensioner has lost his only companion and is even now sinking into the pits of despair and loneliness. And it’s all your fault. Seriously, Jenny, if you want a cat I’ll get you one, but believe me, you don’t want this one. We’ll take him to the cat shelter and someone will give him a nice home.’

  ‘No they won’t,’ I said. ‘He’s not a pretty kitten so no one will want him. He’ll sit in his cage and people won’t even stop to look at him because he’s not like the other cats and after a while they’ll just put him down, because no one wants someone who’s got something the matter with them.’

  Thomas, who’d been very quiet all this time, blew gently in my hair.

  At the other end of the room the cat was trying to purr and lap at the same time with disastrous results.

  We left Mrs Crisp and Kevin fashioning a cat bed from a cardboard box, two cushions, and a towel. The way they were going at it there would be satellite TV and a split-level dining room as well.

  Any anxieties I might have experienced about Russell’s apparent reluctance to start painting again were dispelled immediately upon entering the shop. He gazed around for a moment and then plunged off towards the paints. This was his world and I realised, without rancour, that I was forgotten.

  ‘Wow,’ said Thomas, perennial shopping victim. ‘ This is better than the bucket shop. Look at all this stuff. Look at these colours. What’s that smell? What’s this for? Oh, this is so cool … ’ and he disappeared too. And they talk about women and shopping.

  I amused myself wandering around, occasionally catching a glimpse of Russell at the end of an aisle or hearing an echo of his voice. After about half an hour, I drifted over to the cash point where an astonishing number of boxes and bags were assembled. He had bought half the shop, it seemed. I added a rather nice book of Vermeer reproductions to the pile and settled down to wait until such time as he would remember my existence. He would certainly remember me when it came to carrying this lot to the car. I found a stool, exchanged a sympathetic glance with the cashier and leafed through my book.

  He reappeared eventually, trailing two more assistants; all of them festooned like Batman’s utility belt.

  ‘Hello, wife,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘Have you been waiting long?’

  ‘Yes,’ was the answer to that one but he looked so excited and happy I’d have to be a monster to say it.

  I smiled and shook my head and they started to ring things up. Russell apparently out of habit and not realising he didn’t have to do that now, started to haggle about the price. The manager, obviously knowing him of old and with a large part of his mind calculating his commission, responded with spirit and an energetic discussion ensued. The cashier reached under the counter and placidly sipped her tea. I continued to read my book.

  Silence fell. A total had been agreed. I handed over my book and it was returned to me with a smile and the compliments of the shop and before Russell could bristle indignantly and demand to know why I got freebies when I hadn’t actually spent a single penny, the total was rung up and we were done.

  Thomas reappeared. ‘Oh, there you are.’

  I said nothing.

  He surveyed the mountain of boxes, cartons and bags. ‘Are you sure you haven’t forgotten anything?’

  I held up my book.

  ‘It took you an hour to buy a book?’

  We were interrupted by Russell, belatedly realising he would require assistance with getting this lot back to the car.

  ‘Now then, Jenny. Most of this stuff is quite light. I’ll take the heavier stuff, but if we load you up carefully, there’ll be no need for two trips. Hold out your arms.’

  Light it may have been, but by the time he’d finished I could barely see where I was going.

  ‘Are you all right behind that lot?’ said Thomas.

  ‘This is my own fault,’ I said to him. ‘I should have had the foresight to train you to pull a small cart.’

  He was horrified. ‘I don’t pull carts.’

  ‘Why not? You’re always telling me you’re a horse.’

  By this time, we were out on the pavement. Russell turned right and strode off. I followed as best I could. It wasn’t far and the load wasn’t heavy. I just couldn’t see very well.

  A man standing outside Boots put his phone away and asked, ‘Do you want a hand, pet?’

  ‘Oh, no, thank you. It’s not far, but thank you.’

  ‘Well, look at you,’ said Thomas. ‘Talking to strange men in the street. Who’d have thought?’

  ‘He,’ I said, with emphasis, ‘was being helpful.’

  Russell materialised. ‘What’s going on? Was that man bothering you?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ I said. ‘He offered to help.’

  ‘Oh, did he?’ said Russell, turning to glare at the fortunately just vacated spot where he’d been. ‘Really, Jenny, I don’t think …’

  But we never got to find out what he didn’t think because with all the inevitability of an anvil dropped from a passing cloud, Aunt Julia was with us.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘What on earth …? Jenny? Is that you? What are you doing?’

  Her tone of voice would lead anyone to believe he’d set me to work in a sugar plantation.

  I think Russell had had enough.

  ‘Ah, Julia, the very person. I’m sorry to have to say this, but I really must take issue with some aspects of my wife’s upbringing. I’ve just had to reprimand her for speaking to strange men in the street – a very inappropriate action for a newly married woman, I think you’ll agree. Now you know me, I don’t like to criticise, but you’ve been remiss, Julia, very remiss indeed. However, no harm done, so we’ll say no more about it.’

  I said, ‘Um …’ but there was no chance.

  Whatever promises of good behaviour she’d made to Uncle Richard went straight out of the window. Or down the road, in our case.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ she gasped.

  ‘No, that’s all right, Julia. No need to be embarrassed. I’ve had a word with Jenny and she assures me it won’t happen again. Nice to see you but we must crack on.’

  Francesca said, ‘Hello, Russell.’

  I hadn’t seen her from behind the boxes.

  ‘Oh-oh.’

  I wondered if there was anything in the boxes that would break if I started throwing them.

  ‘ Don’t do that. You need to stay hidden. This might turn ugly. Right in the middle of the High Street, too. Let’s hope she won’t make a scene in public. ’
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br />   Aunt Julia was forging on. ‘I remember that the last time I had occasion to reprimand you for mistreating your wife you very cleverly managed to throw the blame back at me for not giving you a chance to explain your actions properly. I would not care to make the same mistake again so perhaps you could enlighten me as to why Jenny appears to be weighed down with boxes that are obviously much too heavy for her, while you are not?’

  He could have explained he’d dropped his off at the Rover and come back for mine. He could have shown her how light they were. He could have relieved me of my load. He didn’t do any of that. He made a big mistake.

  ‘I don’t have to explain my actions to you, Julia. Now, if you’ll excuse us …’ He took my arm.

  I noticed that Aunt Julia’s concern for my well-being had not led her so far as to relieve me of any of the despised boxes. Or even to say ‘hello’.

  And bloody Francesca was here somewhere. I seriously considered flinging my boxes to the ground and walking off.

  ‘I wouldn’t,’ advised Thomas. ‘ Those boxes are all that’s preventing this situation deteriorating into a public brawl.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Have you seen your face since this morning?’

  ‘I’d forgotten all about it. It doesn’t hurt at all.’

  ‘You look like the poster child for battered wives. Hang on to those boxes whatever you do.’

  I started to turn away. The car wasn’t far. I’d leave them to it.

  Then Francesca, bless her, put her elegantly shod foot right in it.

  ‘Oh, Jenny, you do look funny with all those boxes.’ Russell furiously grabbed the top three or four.

  I could see again. There was Francesca. And Aunt Julia. And half of Rushford walking past very slowly so they could get an earful. And the other half staring into the nearest shop window, apparently enthralled by the display of surgical trusses, incontinence pads, and a special offer on stair-lifts.

  But back to the current crisis.

  Russell, grabbing the boxes, caught a glimpse of my face, closed his eyes briefly, and muttered, ‘Shit.’

  I had no sympathy. I’d been with him all afternoon and he’d only just remembered? He was on his own.

  Aunt Julia, thank God, was temporarily speechless. I hoped by the time she’d regained her composure, she would realise the embarrassment of a public scene and content herself with telling tales to Uncle Richard.

  Another pig soared majestically into the stratosphere.

  ‘It’s up to you, Jenny,’ said Thomas. ‘Deep breath, focus, and go.’

  I took a deep breath, focused, and went.

  ‘It was an accident, Aunt Julia.’

  ‘Another one?’

  ‘He wasn’t even there. I fell in the pond.’

  ‘Not making things any better.’

  ‘You fell in the pond? Which pond?’

  ‘The Duck Pond. At the … bottom of the lane. I was rescuing a cat.’

  ‘Which cat?’

  ‘The cat in the pond.’

  ‘Why?’

  Now I was baffled. ‘What?’

  ‘Why? Why were you rescuing the cat?’

  ‘Because it was in the pond.’ I thought I’d made that clear. I wish people would listen to me.

  ‘You let your wife fall in a dirty pond?’

  ‘I wasn’t there. Believe me, Julia, I’m with you on this one and when you see the cat, you’ll know why.’

  ‘So you hit her because she saved a cat?’

  ‘No! I mean I didn’t hit her at all. I’ve never hit a woman in my life. Not even Francesca. It was the cat.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  ‘You’re telling me the cat hit her?’

  ‘No one hit her. She fell over a tree.’

  ‘You said she fell in a pond. You need to get your story straight, Russell Checkland.’

  ‘The tree was in the pond.’

  ‘And where was this again? A mangrove swamp in Florida?’

  I realised I’d started to shake. I’d never done that before.

  ‘Jenny?’ said Thomas, concerned.

  I made a huge effort to get some control over my life.

  ‘It’s all … right, Aunt Julia, we’ve just been … sh –’

  I couldn’t get any further. The word ‘shopping’ refused to budge.

  I tried again. ‘Art stuff.’

  ‘Oh?’ said Francesca, sharply. ‘You’ve started painting again, Russell? You didn’t tell me.’

  ‘Nothing to do with you, Francesca. You walked out, remember? Left me high and dry.’

  He’d gone very white. Any minute now, things would be said from which there was no going back.

  ‘I don’t need your permission to paint. Or your presence. In fact, I’m better off without you. Go and marry Daniel and stop making such a nuisance of yourself.’

  She slapped him.

  Without thinking, I tried to say, ‘Russell, I’d like to go home, please.’ I stood, desperately trying to get something out. My mouth worked – nothing happened. I was back in the school playground again. I began to dribble. Hot tears ran down my cheeks. I was rooted to the spot. I couldn’t move, or speak. I could hardly see. But I could smell ginger biscuits.

  I tried to pluck Russell’s sleeve, but he and Francesca were too busy shouting at each other. Aunt Julia stood off to one side, not attempting to interfere. No one was even pretending to look in shop windows now. I could sense a crowd gathering. Someone laughed. I was hot with shame and mortification. I hated everyone. My stupid self, most of all.

  I shook and jerked with the effort of speaking. To tell them to stop, for God’s sake. To give me a few minutes peace. All these people who professed to care for me so much and I was ignored by every single one of them. I wished the ground would open up and swallow me. I wished I’d never been born at all.

  ‘Jenny,’ said Thomas. ‘ I would like you to stay very calm, please. Don’t try to speak and especially, don’t cry. Please just stand quietly. Try to let it all go over your head. Help is coming. ’

  And indeed, it was. Andrew shouldered his way through the crowd, took in the situation at a glance, didn’t even bother trying to speak to the protagonists, threw my boxes to the ground, put his arm round my shoulders, and took me away to Tanya’s office.

  She was just saying goodbye to a client. She and Andrew obviously had their own code, because she said to her assistant, ‘You will give me no more calls, please,’ and took us into her office.

  I sat quietly in a chair with a box of tissues and Thomas breathing into my hair. The smell of warm ginger biscuits pervaded the room and slowly, everything subsided back into place.

  When I was able to look around me again, Tanya was dissuading Andrew from thumping his cousin.

  ‘It will not help,’ she told him. She looked at me. ‘The damage is done.’ I don’t think she was talking about my face. ‘There has been a public argument and charges were made. The whole town will talk of it. The best course is to ignore everything. You must all seem to be on excellent terms as soon as possible. Some sort of public meal is a good idea. Jenny must not be injured any more. That is most important. And you, Andrew, will not hit Russell again.’

  Again?

  ‘Actually, my angel, the last person to hit Russell was you.’

  ‘No, actually, Jenny, the last person to hit Russell was you.’

  ‘No, actually, it was Francesca.’

  ‘Now, I will tell my assistant I have finished today and we will all have a quiet meal at home. Jenny, you will stay with us tonight. I will telephone to Russell.’

  If he’d even noticed I’d gone.

  ‘He will not argue, I think, and tomorrow he can collect you from us and you will not hit him, Andrew. No one will hit Russell.’

  ‘Hitting Russell seems to be the favourite pastime around here.’

  I made no answer.

  Andrew and Tanya had a small flat in what had been the old eye hospital. The conversion was very nice and the
y had a large balcony with views over the river. We all sat in the kitchen. I was given potatoes to peel and carrots to scrape. Andrew cut up onions and meat. Tanya defrosted a cheesecake and ordered everyone around. I think we all enjoyed it. This was my first experience of a normal household. No one shouted. Andrew and Tanya danced round each other in the kitchen, never colliding, each aware of the other. Once, he lifted her hair and kissed her neck.

  I felt unbelievably lonely.

  He put a glass of wine in front of me. The telephone rang and I took a large swig.

  ‘It’s all right,’ said Thomas.

  Andrew answered the phone, but Tanya held out her hand. ‘Please give it to me.’

  He handed it over, winked at me, and picked up his wine.

  ‘Russell? Yes, of course she is here. Did you think we would leave her standing in the middle of the pavement while you and FrancescaKingdom made fools of yourselves? No, you may not speak to her. She is considerably distressed.’

  I nodded into my wine. Goddammit, I was distressed. Thomas chuckled.

  ‘No you may not come round tonight. We are about to have a quiet meal and an enjoyable evening and it will not be either if you are here. I leave it to you to explain to your household how you managed to lose your wife in the middle of Rushford, although I am sure by now there is not much they do not know. That is a problem for you to manage. You may, if she wishes it, speak to Jenny tomorrow. That is for her to decide. In the meantime may I suggest you take some time to think over your recent disgraceful behaviour and if I see signs of genuine remorse and a willingness to do better, then I shall do my best to dissuade Andrew from knocking you to the ground. Again. Alternatively, if I am in the mood, I may do it myself. Goodnight, Russell.’

  She put the phone down.

  ‘Wow. Shock and awe!’

  ‘Did he actually manage to get a word in?’ asked Andrew, beaming at her.

  ‘I do not know. I was not listening. Jenny, drink more wine.’

  ‘Yes, Jenny, drink more wine before she turns on us.’