Surprisingly enough mother was still up. It turns out she’d been called out to do an all-nighter vigil over at St Jude’s hospice. She stood in the doorway of my bedroom wearing her pink duffle-coat and plastic rain-mate tied under her chin, the landing light behind her shining like a kind of halo. No doubt she’d see how melancholy I was. I flopped onto the bed. ‘Mother, I’m low – I’ve surpassed my bloody nadir’ I said.
She rushed over, she knelt by the bed. ‘Oh, son, son!’ she exclaimed.
Rightaway, she commanded me to bed at once, out of my wet clothes. She brought me a big mug of oversweet cocoa and six Garibaldi biscuits on a china plate. She stood over me until I’d drunk every single drop. ‘Ta mother’ I whispered. She nodded, then started to do up her coat, ready to set off on her errand of mercy. I yawned sleepily (God knows what she’d put in it?) She placed both hands on my head, her voice trembled with emotion, ‘Just remember Sonny-Jim, I shall be praying for you all night – even until the small desperate hours of the morning’ she said in a small voice. ‘Thank you mother’ I said.
She stood by the open door. ‘Good-bye son’ (she made the sign of the cross). Distantly I heard the front door close with a thud. Soon after that I fell into a sound sleep. It’s the best night’s sleep I’ve had in ages.
***
Thursday 17th September.
Emile Augier 1820-1889.
La notagia de la boue
Stoney Bank Street. (Post-nil).
6:30pm. Home early – progress at last, well hopefully at least. Time for a showdown. I’ve arranged a face to face meeting with Cynthia over at St Jude’s 7:00pmn sharp. (I’ve left Thelma holding the fort at work.) Who else eh – she wasn’t to ask twice. ‘Good luck,’ she said.
Cyn really hates it if I phone her at work.
Too bad. For once I got straight through. I’m determined to have it out with her once and for all. ‘Listen’ I said ‘about last night, right. What’s going on? This time you’ve gone too far.’
‘WHO IS DIZ?’ a woman’s voice answered.
‘Madam, this is your husband speaking’ I said.
Not a good start, all I can hear is her stupid work colleague, butting in, talking a mile a minute, ‘Tin-thee-ya – ya get the pool-ice, okay. Tin-thee-ya, diz crazy guy agin, he keeps on cuming on de tell-phone, es pair-vet. Ya call sicur-rat-tee, ya hear!’
Finally Cynthia picks up the phone. ‘Bertha, it’s okay, it’s my stupid husband’ I heard her say. ‘Colin, this is a hospital. Do I call you at work – no I do not’ she yells. Well, that’s a whopper for a start. ‘This is the trouble, you don’t call me at all’ I said.
Then she’s saying I’ve called her a dozen times, that’s at least. ‘How many more times. Emergencies only, 24 seven – it’s for casualties only, got that?’
‘I am a fucking casualty’ I yelled.
She slammed down the phone. Rightaway I redialled in hot blood – I could feel my temper already. Cyn’s phone bounced up on the first ring, ‘Colin, not now I’m at work, how many more times – do you want me to call security. Security, is that what you want?’
‘Hey, good idea. Tell them I’m planning a murder, okay. Look, about last night?’
‘Why, what about last night?’
Finally somebodies listening. This time I’m ready, don’t worry I had a list down to the floor. ‘Number one, regarding the welfare of my children for one thing – going by what I witnessed, last night, urgent questions arise. Wild parties I’m meaning, not to mention parking violations. Also I thought we’d both agreed I get to see the kids every Sunday at least…?’ It’d gone quiet, too quiet.
No answer. I waited – all I can hear is a long buzz. What a bitch, right. She’d hung up on me. She left a message on my answerphone at work. There’s just a chance, maybe she might be able to fit me in in between seven and seven-thirty. ‘Thank you, thank you’ I grovelled aloud.
Just in case I made sure I got there early.
When you step out of the lift Cynthia’s reception counter is right there in front of you. Don’t worry she’d seen me alright. I waved (she completely ignored me). There she is, making out how busy she is, answering about ten phones all at the same time.
She pointed to the row of crowded seats.
Bitch I thought. I found myself a seat on the back row.
Those kind of places, they really give me the shivers (I can’t help it). I’m surrounded by people on crutches, people with plaster-casts, lopsided heads, all kinds of things – wheel-chairs galore, you name it. Then when I look, right next to me there’s this smelly old guy with a scraggy grey beard, wearing an eye-patch. Then I remembered, he’s that old tramp character from over in the park that time. Mark Twain I’m meaning. Don’t worry, I looked straight ahead.
I waited (I looked at my watch).
Not that I was looking forward to it all that much anyway. Omens galore for one thing, big thunderstorms I’m meaning, it’d been brewing all afternoon, jagged lightening, dancing along the sky-line. Somehow or other it didn’t bode that well for a cosy chat.
Cyn led the way over to the cafeteria, marching ahead, her heels resounding hollowly along the corridors. She looked really great (too smart for work I’d’ve thought). Maybe that’s me, if I’m being truthful her skirt was too short too, also just a weeny touch too heavy on the old make-up, if you ask me.
All of a sudden, the sun comes out, there’s this wonderful rainbow, arching right over the whole valley. There’s this big explosion of golden light, lighting up the whole corridor. I pointed ‘Rainbow!’ I cried. Cyn waited impatiently still holding the door. Somehow I felt better already.
‘You know what, you were always lucky for me.’
Cyn was unimpressed, she shrugged. ‘You make me sound like a fucking elf’ she exclaimed.
***
That time of day the cafeteria was heaving, we’d been lucky finding a seat. You could sense her hostility. Even the table was wrong (attitude right to the hilt). She pulled a face, she stroked her fingers over the table-top. She turned to the black girl busily clearing up on the next table. ‘Call that clean?’ she yells.
She snatched the dishcloth out of her hand.
Everybody stared. My heart sank (all this aggression). She swiped the table a couple of times, then tossed it back – the girl could only gape. ‘What?’ Cynthia said. She unloaded the tray, then dragged out a chair, plonking herself down. She tossed a pellet into her carton of coffee, stirring it vigorously. She looked up ‘Five minutes, okay?’
One thing for sure she was making very clear that she didn’t want to be here. Finally I said, ‘Look, this can’t go on.’ She was just about to launch her teeth into a mega-sized chocolate éclair, her eyes fell on my drink carton, ‘What can’t go on?’ she queried (I think she thought I was having trouble with the lid).
Okay, if that’s the way you want to play it, fine by me. ‘Last night I’m meaning – wild parties, for one thing, two a.m.,’ I said.
She chewed thoughtfully, then dabbed her mouth. ‘Who told you by the way – only I’m interested’ she smirked.
Smirkers, they are the absolute pits if you ask me.
‘Nobody told me anything, as a matter of fact I just happened to be driving past.’ Cyn let out a snorty laugh. ‘My God. Two a.m. – oh sure.’
So, then I said ‘Surprisingly enough I happen to have grave concerns for my children’s moral welfare – okay with you?’
She shrugged, one eye on her chocolate cream-éclair. ‘They’re fine, both fine – next question?’ She snatched a big bite off one end. Fascinated, I watched her eat (in a strange kind of way that could be a good sign). Cyn only stuffs herself with calories if she’s really worried about something.
‘Fine?’ I queried. I gave her a look. ‘May we expand on that a little?’
She chewed hungrily. ‘Jenny’s, over at Jenny’s house.’
No wonder I stared. Nobody leaves their kids over at Jenny’s.
‘Her with the
snake around her neck – are you mad?’
It slid off like butter, she sucked at her fingers each in turn. ‘Oh, get a life.’
‘Jenny’s!’ I yelled. I’d just thought of something. ‘What about the tarantula, that big hairy spider she keeps inside a cage?’
‘Don’t worry I know how you feel, me too. Luckily she no longer has it.’
‘Well, that’s something at least – it watched me for a whole night onetime.’
‘Me too. She lost it out in the garden someplace.’
‘Who’s garden for chrissakes’ I yelled. Wonderful, now we have a giant spider out on the loose, strong enough to smash its way out of crates. Don’t worry she says – my kid’s lives could be at stake.
‘All that noise at two a.m. in the morning’ I said.
Cyn rolled her eyes. ‘Look, I like parties, you don’t.’
‘You’re missing the whole point – what about the neighbours?’
She pulled a face, then shrugged. Instead of an answer she swung her teeth into her second mega-sized chocolate cream éclair. I gave her a look of pure contempt (straight to her hips). I hope she knows that’s all. ‘By the way, you’ve just swallowed enough calories to pull a refuse truck. I just thought I’d tell you that’s all.’
She swiped her mouth with a Kleenex ‘You wouldn’t’ve enjoyed it that’s for sure. All that loud music for one thing. Clyde plays a really mean bass-guitar, really cool’ Cynthia said, eyeing up where to bite next. She saw me look. ‘I thought I’d already told you. Avril’s new husband from over in the States. They got married in Las Vegas – that’s who the party was for.’
I nodded. ‘Tell them I said ‘good luck’ ‘ I lied.
Trust Avril to smell out a rich seam, right. Come to think I’d already seen him. Him and Avril both, driving around town in this snazzy imported Dodge Ram charger, chrome-laden, bright red pickup truck. Mind you, he’d be pretty easy to miss, short guy, wearing a big cowboy hat, and what looked like a Zapata droopy moustache – I’m surprised he can even see over the steering-wheel. Poor mutt – I’ll give it three months at the most. She was only there for the money you can tell.
They were all in Tony’s Tavern a couple of nights back, the whole gang, rowdy bunch to say the least. American’s, say no more, right – wanting to take over the whole place. Rightaway, a couple of fifties went over the bar – free drinks for everybody. God, I only wish you’d’ve seen them. Amazing, they poured out of the Dark Bar in one mad rush – it makes you feel really ashamed, six and a half minutes I made it. That’s when the money ran out. All I wanted is a nice quiet drink.
Well, I know what I think. You can still have a really good time without going to extremes, right – laughter isn’t everything.
Cynthia looked at her watch for the third time in a row (we’d run out of things to say already). She was dying to get back you could tell. I watched her picking odd bits of chocolate off her plate with a wetted finger. So then, more for something to say kind of thing, I said ‘So, when’s the next party?’
‘Saturday’ she told me distractedly, then added ‘Just a few odd girls from the Health Club.’
Well, there’s no arguing with that I thought, also a few odd boys too no doubt. She looked at her watch ‘Look, I have to get back, okay?’ I nodded – we’d achieved nothing. I said ‘Running a big hospital like this – I’m lucky you finding me a window’ I grovelled. She ignored my sarcasm, instead she threw daggers with her eyes. ‘That’s what a trial separation means, incommunicado – we have to keep on our own side of the fence.’
She picked up her bag making ready to leave, turned ‘That also means’ she added, her mouth in a line ‘You are not allowed to harass me, okay. That goes for phoning me up every five minutes at work – got it? Either at home, or by letter, or pigeon fucking post, savvy? She gave me a look. That also includes stupid poems, ok?’
She really meant it you could tell. Nor had she finished. ‘That’s another thing too’ she went on ‘should I at any time take it upon myself to invite a few friends round for an odd drink – my business, okay?’
‘Odd drink – you woke up the whole neighbourhood.’
We exchanged looks.
I followed her out, keep it light I thought. ‘Look, how about I come over and tidy the garden. Maybe dead-head a few roses?’ I said.
She stared (I tried using my lop-sided grin – it worked wonders at onetime). ‘That okay with you, it that allowable, or does that also constitute an infringement of aforesaid contractual agreement?’ I added jokily.
Not anymore it seems. ‘No, don’t bother I’ll do it myself. Why change?’ she added icily. She turned to face me ‘Let’s face it, after all I’ve been dead-heading all our married life.’ She pushed her way through the double-doors, leaving them swinging in her wake. I stared after her, next moment she’d gone. Don’t you worry I won’t forget that snidey remark either, not ever.
Too late I’d forgot to mention I needed my dark suit to go to the funeral.
11:30pm. I’ve been over to DeLacey Street to pick up my dark suit for old Jordan Poritt’s funeral tomorrow. Too late, it turns out Cyn’s already sent it off to the dry-cleaners. They were having some kind of drinks party, so what’s new, right. Cynthia was dressed-up to the nines, wearing a new strappy black dress, hooped earrings you could jump through – we almost bumped into each other in the hallway (her face was a picture). Don’t you worry I didn’t hang around long. No wonder I felt a bit out of place – I’ll say. There’s me turning-up in my old raincoat and flat cap. No doubt her pride was enormous.
Nobody I knew that’s for sure, not that there was a whole lot of introductions. It stuck out a mile, she couldn’t get me out of the place fast enough. I said ‘While I’m here, why don’t I sneak upstairs, say a quick hello to the kids?’ She stared (I just remembered, more than likely they’d both be farmed out over at Jenny’s house). This is what I said, ‘Kids over at the snake – charmers, am I right?’ We both laughed. She walked me over to the door, she squeezed my arm, for some unknown reason it almost doubled her in two (nothing’s that funny) ‘Oh, Colin, you’re incorrigible’ she almost screamed.
Then, on my way out I happened to meet up with Avril, her of all people, new husband in tow. That’s all I need. They’d just arrived. ‘Oh, look, who’s here, it’s Colin. Colin’s here!’ She grabbed my arm. ‘How ARE YOOOOOOO?’ she exclaimed in a screamy, high-pitched voice. Next thing she’s giving me a really big hug, kissing me on both cheeks. You’d’ve thought we were really good friends or something. It ends up we’re both lying our heads off, telling one another how great we both look. How fantastic it is to see each other kind’ve.
Finally she introduces me to her new husband. She took a big breath, ‘Clyde, this is Colin… Colin, this is Clyde, my new husband’ she informed me, not without pride, her new bosoms rising to their zenith, ready to leap out of her low-cut bright yellow party frock.
We both shook hands.
Clyde nodded his shiny bald head, then grinned displaying a gold tooth then patted his droopy moustache, as if checking if it was still there. Then Avril said ‘Clyde’s from the United States of America.’ I nodded. ‘Really? How nice.’ So, then he said ‘Clyde Boy Schnieder the third’ still pumping my arm ‘gled we could meet up at lest’ he drawled, then added. ‘Like the country, like the people too, folks round these parts are really friendly.’
Again everybody nodded. Avril giggled nervously, ‘Colin is Cynthia’s husband (she leaned on the word ‘husband’) then added ‘Colin works at the Library, don’t you Colin?’ ‘Books’ I said. ‘Ah, books’ Clyde repeated, he nodded. ‘Well, well. How about thet.’ Avril twisted her ring, then said ‘Shelves and shelves full of them. I’ve never seen so many books in my whole life.’
Again everybody nodded – why didn’t I just leave.
‘Clyde’s in real estate’ Avril suddenly piped-up. ‘Three different States – he buys property.’ She turned ‘Isn’t that right, honey?’ s
he added, hoicking up the front of her dress.
He snickered, then patted his moustache ‘Sure is honey-bell.’
Avril nodded her head. ‘Three different States’ his new wife beamed.
‘Hopefully I sell quite a few too’ said he.
‘Wow’ I said (no wonder I was impressed). More for something to say, I said. ‘You mean, you run the whole conglomerate all by yourself?’
‘Hell no’ Clyde snickers – ‘I have aides.’
There was a pause, Avril’s eyes went really big ‘YOU HAVE AIDS?’ she almost yells. Everybody laughed.
They both went inside to join the party.
First impressions, if I’m truthful I liked him more than I thought I would (he’s even shorter close up). Not that that matters – not when you’re as rich as him that’s for sure. If he stands on his wallet he’s a lot taller than most people I’ll bet.
***
Friday 19th September.
John Bunyan 1628-1688.
He who would be valiant be gainst all disaster.
Stoney Bank Street. (Post-two).
10:00am. Grey skies (gloomy wet day). Jordan’s funeral at noon. I’ve phoned in sick – somehow or other I just couldn’t face going in to work.
Some good news at least, Mondeo returned, back from the paint-shop, pristine con as they say – well hopefully. Fat Frank’s even thrown in, what he calls, ‘extra artwork,’ e.g. a couple of ‘go-faster’ zig-zaggy red stripes, buckshee!
So, we’ll see – it still sounds a bit ropey if you ask me. Letters (one): Sadly Little Tommy Webster’s got the old heave-ho yet again. Wonderful, returned from Westward Ho (Olde Worlde Sea Shanties. Bidecombe Bay. Devon).
It Always Rains on Sundays Page 21