by Hilary Boyd
‘Do you still have sex with Bill?’ She suddenly wanted to know that the rest of the world functioned normally.
Rita laughed. ‘It’s not love’s young dream, but yes, it’s fun with Bill, we know what each other likes . . . and we find ways to rev it up, watch porn sometimes.’
Jeanie’s eyes widened. ‘Porn?’
‘Don’t look so shocked. You should try it, it’s hilarious.’
She tried to imagine her and George, but failed.
‘So will you meet Ray again?’
‘I . . . seeing him seems both stupid and essential, and not seeing him the same.’
Rita stood up. ‘Come on, this discussion is getting uncomfortably circular, you need to walk them both off.’
11
‘Hi, darling, what’s up?’ Jeanie took her daughter’s call as she balanced on a ladder, stacking the shelves above the shop’s chill cabinet with surplus stock. It had been a frantic week in the shop following her birthday, Jola convinced that the sudden hot weather was making everyone self-conscious about their exposed bodies. Goji juice, anti-cellulite supplements, prunes, alfalfa, bran and salad vegetables had all been in high demand.
‘Can you come over as soon as you’ve finished work?’
Her daughter sounded unusually clipped and tense. She wondered if Alex was playing up again.
‘Is something the matter? Is Ellie OK?’
‘Can’t talk now.’
‘OK, see you later. Oh, Chanty, shall I bring Dad?’
‘No.’ She sounded almost panicky. ‘No, come on your own.’
She snapped her phone shut, checking her watch. It was only ten minutes till closing.
‘Afternoon, Jean.’ A plump, middle-aged woman in a large sun hat was peering up at her.
‘Hi, Margot, what can I do for you?’ She groaned inwardly as she came down the ladder, knowing she would be expected to listen for hours to a litany of Margot’s ailments, from stiff knees to itchy patches to bloating. She must have tried every supplement under the sun over the years, but never for enough time to see any benefit, and now she’d be wanting to discuss the latest miracle cure she’d read about in the press.
Margot was fanning her face with the local newspaper. ‘Well . . . I spotted this new research.’ She was off.
‘I’m afraid I don’t have much time today, Margot, I’ve got to close up in a minute and I have to do the till.’
Margot looked crestfallen and glanced rather pointedly at the clock on the wall behind the counter.
‘My granddaughter . . . I have to go round. Can you come back tomorrow?’
Margot made a play of considering this.
‘I suppose so . . . no, no, you get off, dear, I know what it’s like with the wee ones.’
Chanty and Alex were edgy.
‘Where’s Ellie?’ It was only six-thirty.
‘We put her to bed a bit early, we didn’t want her hearing this,’ Chanty replied ominously.
The three of them stood about awkwardly in the sitting room.
‘What’s going on?’ Jeanie’s heart was racing.
She saw her daughter’s mouth twist. ‘Mum, this is difficult . . .’ She glanced at her husband, but Alex was just staring into space, propped, as always, against the mantelpiece, standing on one leg and rubbing one bare foot along the arch of the other.
‘It’s about Ellie . . . she’s been talking about a man . . .’
No, thought Jeanie, looking immediately at Alex, who refused to meet her eye. She waited.
‘She says this man, she calls him ‘Way’, holds her on his knee. . . touches her.’
Jeanie thought she would explode. She sat down hard on the sofa. ‘I don’t believe this,’ she stated coldly.
She saw shock register on her daughter’s features. ‘Mum?’
‘It’s lies,’ Jeanie said flatly.
‘Mum . . . it’s Ellie who said it. Are you saying you don’t believe your own granddaughter?’
‘Did she tell you this herself?’ she asked quietly.
‘No, she told Alex.’
‘Right.’ She took a couple of deep breaths because she knew she was on the verge of saying things that would never be forgotten.
‘Obviously we’re worried sick. Alex said that you and this man, Ray, have been meeting in the park.’
‘Have you heard it from Ellie?’ Jeanie interrupted.
She could see Chanty got it at once, and she watched her daughter’s face harden.
‘I’m not going to ask a two-year-old child to repeat something as upsetting as that. Are you suggesting Alex’s made this up?’
‘I’m suggesting he’s mistaken.’ Her words were slow and wooden with control. ‘Alex?’
Alex moved. Jeanie thought he was finding his position in front of them too prominent, and he went to sit on the arm of Chanty’s chair, behind his wife. ‘I know what she said.’
‘Which was what? Tell me exactly what Ellie said.’ She knew her voice was threatening, but she didn’t care.
Her son-in-law harrumphed. ‘What Chant just said, that Ray took her on his knee and touched her.’
‘Ellie said that? You are totally certain that she said that?’
Alex nodded, looked away. ‘Not those exact words, I can’t remember precisely, but the gist . . .’
Jeanie turned to her daughter, wondering how she couldn’t see that her husband was lying through his teeth. ‘I will say this only once.’ She looked Chanty absolutely straight in the eye, and knew that her own would be sparking blue and intense in their need to communicate the truth.
‘I have never . . . once . . . on any occasion whatsoever, let Ellie out of my sight when she’s in my care. And never once has Ray, to my absolute knowledge, so much as laid a finger on her. Not once, not ever, not held her hand, or picked her up or lifted her into the swing, barely even spoken to her except to say hi and bye and hand her an apple juice carton. Never, nothing.’
She took a breath. ‘What’s more,’ she appealed to Chanty, who sat stony-faced as her mother talked, ‘you must know that every cell in my body is devoted to Ellie, that I would happily lay down my life to protect her from any harm, however slight. So I don’t see how you can possibly believe that I would allow a situation to occur where a stranger could molest my own granddaughter in my presence.’
Chanty took a long breath. ‘We weren’t saying “molest” . . .’ The look she gave her husband now was uncertain, bewildered.
‘Yes . . . you were saying “molest”. That’s exactly what you were saying.’
‘Mum . . . you must admit, it’s worrying. I was frantic when Alex told me. These things happen without people seeing.’
‘Nothing happened and I am not “people”. I am your mother and Ellie’s grandmother.’
‘I know, Mum, and I do trust you. It’s other people I don’t trust. And it’s easy for a situation to happen when you, say, go to the loo, or get a drink, and it happens when your back is turned, even for a moment. You might not be aware that you’re doing it.’ She looked at Jeanie questioningly.
‘I’m not senile, for God’s sake! I can still manage to track my own movements.’ So that was it: they thought she was a dotty, incompetent old bat. ‘None of those scenarios have taken place. I repeat, I have never, and would never, leave her with anyone to do anything at all, not even for a second. I just wouldn’t. I’m far more paranoid than you are.’
Chanty looked as if she wanted to believe her. ‘Maybe Alex got the wrong end of the stick . . .’
‘I heard what I heard,’ he repeated sullenly, but there was no conviction in his words.
‘I just don’t know why Ellie would say something like that if it didn’t happen,’ Chanty went on.
‘Nor do I.’ Jeanie looked pointedly at Alex. She sighed. ‘Look, I can see why you’d be worried, darling, but whatever Ellie was talking about, it didn’t happen on my watch.’
‘Anyway, who is this man?’ her daughter wanted to know.
‘He runs an aiki
do school at Archway. He looks after his grandson on Thursday afternoons for his daughter. From what I can see he’s an entirely decent human being. The children play together.’
She said no more, hoping it would be enough. What she was doing with Ray might be wrong, but it was a separate issue. She knew her cheeks were flaming, but it was from anger rather than guilt.
‘Well . . . I’d rather you didn’t hang out with him when you’ve got Ellie from now on, just the same.’ Chanty’s tone was preachy, that of a schoolmarm berating a wayward pupil. Jeanie’s hackles rose.
‘If you don’t trust me, Chanty, then I won’t look after Ellie at all. I don’t want you worrying every time I step outside the front door.’
She watched Alex, waiting for him to meet her eye. Why was he doing this? Couldn’t he work out it wouldn’t benefit him to lose even one afternoon’s childcare?
‘Alex?’ Chanty had finally decided her husband should share the responsibility.
‘I’m sure Jean has Ell’s best interests at heart, but I would feel more comfortable if I knew this Ray man was nowhere near my daughter,’ he pronounced rather smugly.
‘He . . . hasn’t . . . touched her. Haven’t you listened to a word I’ve said?’ Jeanie heard her voice rising and knew she had reached tipping point. She rose to go.
‘Even so,’ he added, ‘you know nothing about him.’
Chanty also got to her feet. ‘I’m sure you can see our point, Mum.’
Jeanie reached to give her daughter a formal kiss. ‘If you don’t trust me, you shouldn’t let me loose with your daughter,’ she repeated.
‘Mum, I’ve said, of course we trust you, don’t we, Alex?’
She saw him nod.
‘Please don’t let this be an issue between us. I had to find out what was going on.’
Jeanie looked hard at them both. ‘And do you believe me when I tell you that Ray has never touched Ellie, even appropriately? Promise me you’re not even thinking of taking this any further.’
They both nodded, but it was equivocal. She could tell her daughter was still uncertain what she should think.
‘Please don’t tell Dad, it’ll only worry him.’ Chanty lowered her voice as she escorted Jeanie to the door. And it was only then that Jeanie knew that Chanty had misgivings about Alex’s account.
That Thursday, Jeanie took her granddaughter to a different park, one the other side of Crouch End. She didn’t tell Ray; she didn’t know what to say. ‘We can’t meet, my family thinks you’re a paedophile.’ How could you say that to anyone? She knew, however, that their short liaison had to end. If it could threaten her relationship with her daughter, stop her seeing her beloved granddaughter, jeopardize Ray’s life and career, it couldn’t be worth it. She still shook with anger when she pictured Alex’s guilty face, worrying that she hadn’t done enough to convince them. She wanted to talk to Ray about it, but not only was she hotly embarrassed by her relatives’ behaviour, she also knew that if she spoke to him, if she heard his voice, she would weaken. She had to make the family her priority.
‘Baa baa black sheep, have you any wool?’ she began as they walked down Hornsey Lane in the hot May sunshine, waiting for Ellie to join in. ‘. . . One for the monster and one for the day,’ the child sang, her sun hat bobbing from side to side, ‘and one for the likul boy who live downa lay . . .’ and Jeanie just smiled with pleasure, having no desire in the world to correct her.
As they reached the gates of Priory Park, her mobile beeped. Ray. Are you coming? Got strawberries.
Birthday strawberries. Resolutely she put her phone back in the pocket of her cotton trousers.
‘Gin look . . . look, Gin.’ Jeanie followed the direction of her granddaughter’s finger.
‘Sandpit . . . do you want to go in the sandpit?’
Ellie nodded. ‘Buck . . .’ She pointed at a discarded bucket. ‘Owinge buck . . . sand fall down . . .’ She began to busy herself picking up handfuls of sand and throwing it in the bucket, then tipping it out again. This occupied her for a while, until a small boy came over and snatched the bucket. ‘Mine,’ he declared, but Ellie wouldn’t let go of the blue handle. ‘Gin . . . nooooooo . . . not boy’s buck . . . moine, moine.’ Her screams crescendoed as the boy successfully wrestled his orange bucket back. It took hours to calm Ellie down, by which time the little girl was red-faced and sweating, her fair curls plastered to her head, sand scrunching between her fingers and toes and coating her bare legs.
‘Ice cream,’ Jeanie announced cheerfully, but her heart wasn’t in it. She kept looking around in the ridiculous hope that she would see Ray coming across the grass towards her.
‘A’boy’s horbor,’ Ellie kept saying plaintively, her brown eyes still full of outrage. ‘He did take my buck.’
‘It was his bucket,’ Jeanie repeated. ‘We’ll bring yours next time,’ knowing this made no sense to a two-year-old.
They sat on a bench while Ellie picked delicately with a plastic spoon at a single scoop of chocolate ice cream in a waxed-paper cup, making it last for hours. By the end her small face was covered in a beard of chocolate.
‘Anna-one?’ she said hopefully, holding out the cup to Jeanie.
Jeanie laughed. ‘No, darling, one’s enough.’
‘Where Din?’ the child asked, then started hiccupping. ‘I got neck-ups,’ she announced, grinning.
‘He couldn’t come today.’
‘OK . . . Din have play with me,’ she said, and when Jeanie didn’t answer she said again, ‘Gin . . . Gin . . . Din play with me. An’ my leg ouchy ouchy when a’ball hit me.’
‘Yes, darling, but your leg’s all right now, isn’t it?’
Ellie looked doubtful and pulled up the hem of her skirt to point to an invisible wound.
‘Ouchy leg like Daddy when he was a likul girl.’
‘Little boy,’ Jeanie corrected, smiling to herself.
She took her granddaughter on her knee and wiped the ice cream gently from her face with a wet-wipe. Ellie struggled and shrieked, but she persevered. Then she just held the hot little thing in her arms, stroking the damp hair back from her forehead. The thought that anyone could hurt her made Jeanie almost sick. What Alex had done was evil. Or had he really thought his daughter was being abused?
‘I love you,’ she whispered into Ellie’s hair.
‘I’ve found a house.’ George was jubilant, jumping up from his seat on the terrace when he heard Jeanie and running into the kitchen, all gangly arms and legs, waving a sheet of particulars in her face.
Jeanie took out her reading glasses. The house was beautiful, an old rectory on the edge of the Blackdown Hills, it said: five bedrooms, morning room, etc. etc.
‘It’s so perfect, ticks all the boxes, and it’s on the market for one point five.’
‘Great.’ At that moment, Jeanie didn’t care if she lived in the Outer Hebrides. At least a move would take her as far away from Ray as possible. He’d sent two more texts, neither of which she’d replied to: What’s up? Xxx and Say something! X.
‘Think how wonderful it’ll be to be in the country when it’s hot like this,’ George was saying, flapping a wad of printouts in front of his face like a fan.
‘It’s only this hot so early in May two days every decade. Hardly worth moving to Dorset for.’
‘Somerset . . . this house is on the Somerset/Devon borders. Let me get you a drink, you look done in.’ He scrutinized her till she had to look away. ‘I’ve made some iced tea.’
Jeanie nodded.
‘Go and sit down on the terrace, old girl, and I’ll bring it out.’
His solicitousness was painful to Jeanie. She knew where it was coming from. Since the night of the party he’d treated her as if she were made of spun glass.
‘I put mint in it. So how was Ellie?’
‘Fine . . . adorable as ever.’ She told him about the boy and the ‘buck’ and they both laughed.
This is how it will always be, she thought as she sipped her tea,
just this, just us.
‘Jeanie.’ George was looking serious. ‘This move . . . you’re OK with it now, aren’t you?’
Jeanie shrugged.
‘It’s just I thought . . . I thought this could be a chance for us. You know, get away from it all, make a new life.’
‘There’s nothing wrong with this one, George.’
George looked relieved. ‘No . . . well, it’s good you think that. But think how much better it’d be to live here.’ He pointed to the photograph.
‘You haven’t seen it yet: it’s probably on the edge of a cliff.’
‘Well, if not this one, then another one that isn’t.’ George grinned encouragingly and she wanted to be enthusiastic like him, wanted to stop being a killjoy, wanted . . . what?
‘I’m going to see it on Saturday. Will you come?’
‘Saturday’s my busiest day.’
George’s face fell. ‘Well, Sunday. I’ll change it to Sunday.’
‘OK . . . I think I’ll go up and have a cool bath now.’ The sun was going down and the heat was finally beginning to lose its edge. As she turned to go she couldn’t help seeing her husband’s almost pleading glance, but she didn’t feel there was anything, not anything honest, at least, that she could say to help.
The following morning she got to the shop early. She was on her way into town to see Tony, her accountant, and needed to pick up some documents. As she packed the papers into her briefcase she looked up and nearly jumped out of her skin. Ray’s face was pressed to the glass of the shop door.
‘Bloody hell, you gave me a fright,’ she gasped as she opened the door.
Ray laughed. ‘At least you still live,’ he said.
There was a silence between them. ‘Jeanie?’
‘Look I’m late, I have to go.’
Ray looked puzzled. ‘What’s going on? Has something happened?’
‘I can’t see you any more,’ Jeanie gabbled, unable to meet his eye.
‘OK . . .’ The syllable was drawn out. ‘Will you tell me why?’
He was standing absolutely still in the centre of the shop, his arms folded, quietly watching her gather the rest of her papers which were strewn across the counter.