Made in Heaven

by Adale Geras

  ‘That’s not all. Maybe they have … I mean, what d’you think their sex life is like, after all these years?’

  ‘No, Zannah, I’m absolutely NOT going there! Ugh! I’ve never wanted to picture such a thing and I refuse to start now. And as for Ma with Graham Ashton … that’s just as bad. I’d rather not imagine Ma having sex at all. Nor Pa, either.’

  Zannah nodded. She didn’t relish the notion any more than Emily, but nevertheless, she couldn’t help wondering. She said, ‘They’re sort of settled in their relationship, aren’t they? D’you reckon they ever row? I’ve never heard them. Pa goes off in a sulk if he’s cross and then he calms down and sort of wanders in again expecting everything to be all right. And Ma well, she presses her lips together and gets on with it. Have you ever heard her shout?’

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’

  ‘Maybe settled and calm is boring. Maybe Graham Ashton is a more … I don’t know. A more lively person.’

  ‘A better lover than Pa, d’you mean?’

  ‘I never said that,’ Zannah murmured, but Emily had set her mind on a path that it seemed to be following whether she wanted it to or not. She had a sudden vision of her mother and Graham Ashton in the throes of passion … she closed her eyes against this image and tried hard to think about something else.

  ‘We’re not going to get any further with this, Zan,’ said Emily. ‘And my eyes are closing. You go on and do the detective work. Your whole theory falls down if Graham Ashton wasn’t at Fairford Hall.’

  ‘Right,’ said Zannah. ‘I’m going. Ta for listening.’

  ‘No problem. Night.’

  ‘Night.’

  Zannah went back to bed and lay staring at the ceiling. She thought of her mother possibly having an affair and didn’t know exactly what she felt. Was it a possibility? They’d find out soon enough, but she thought that if it were true, then the discovery would upset Em more than it would her. She’d be worried about Pa. Well, so would I, Zannah told herself, but not to the same extent. She’d often wondered in the last couple of years whether her mother was truly happy, and now she felt guilty for not having spoken properly to her for so long. These days, she reflected, I mainly talk to Em but it’s been years and years since we did that: sat in the same bed discussing things. For a moment, she felt nostalgic for her childhood, when she and Em used to spend hours tucked up at either end of one of their beds. Would Isis ever have a sister to share that with? Zannah thought of Adrian and wished he was here with her. She wouldn’t have dreamed of talking to him about her mother, and wondered why that was. Surely if she was going to share her life with him, she should be able to tell him everything. She was almost certain that she would have been able to confide in Cal about something like this, but in Adrian’s case, not only was he close to his mother, he was not nearly as friendly with Ma as Cal had been. Zannah didn’t feel she could take the risk of any of this speculation getting back to Maureen. Also, he wasn’t too keen on his stepfather and she had no wish to make things difficult between them. No, she was determined to keep her thoughts to herself, but how comforting it would be to have his body next to hers, his arms round her. At last, she drifted into sleep.

  Wednesday

  ‘Dad!’ said Isis, catching sight of Cal standing by the school gate. ‘Mum said you’d be here to collect me. Cool! Here’s the key. She said to give it you. Can we go to the movies?’

  ‘Not on a school night, Icicle. I’m going to take you back to the flat for a bit and once Em’s home from work, we’ll all go for supper at Luigi’s. That okay? Your mum’s having dinner at Adrian’s.’

  ‘I know.’ Isis took her father’s hand and they set off. She knew her dad wouldn’t make her put her hood up even though it was cold and her breath was like smoke coming out of her mouth. Mum sometimes made her cover her head, but Dad never took any notice of the weather. She said, ‘They’re going to discuss lists.’

  ‘What sort of lists?’

  ‘You know … lists in shops telling people what you want them to buy as a present.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. Why would anyone want to do that?’

  ‘So they can get nice things they like.’

  ‘Oh, right, so they don’t trust their friends to know what they’d like?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, Dad. It’s supposed to help you get what you really want. Anyway, lists are boring. I went to try my dress on last week. Did Mum tell you? I thought it would be nearly ready but it wasn’t. There was a sort of white cotton dress I had to put on instead. Mum tried hers on as well. Miss Hayward says she makes a cotton one first and if that fits, she cuts out the silk one and sews it up. Miss Hayward’s like a granny in a book. Her hair’s white.’

  At the flat, Cal opened the door. ‘Right, let’s get the tea made then.’

  Isis sighed. ‘Adrian doesn’t know where anything is. Mum always has to tell him and then he says: I don’t do tea.’

  ‘Yeah, well, he’s not Superdad, is he? I’m good at things like tea.’ He sounded cheerful and Isis wondered if he liked it when she told him about things Adrian couldn’t do.

  ‘He’s not nearly as nice as you, though,’ she added, pleased that he was happy.

  ‘Very few people are,’ said Cal, reaching up for the teapot and nearly dropping it. He was just pouring in the boiling water when Isis said, ‘I don’t want tea, though. I’ll have juice. It’s in the fridge and I can get it myself.’

  ‘You should have said earlier, then I’d have used a teabag. Never mind, I’ll drink two cups.’

  ‘Have you seen Mum’s pictures for the florist?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘They’re in that book over there by the TV. She’s done loads. She met her last week. Have a look … ’

  Isis ran to pick up the sketchbook which was still lying on the table where Zannah had left it the previous evening. She watched as Cal turned the pages. He wasn’t saying anything. ‘Don’t you like the pictures, Dad?’

  ‘No, they’re wonderful … I just … I don’t know. Where’s she going to put all these flowers? Anyway, I thought the whole idea of hiring a florist was so that they could tell you what flowers to have. But your mum’s done it the other way round and told them what she wants … Oh, hi there, Em! You’re back nice and early.’

  Emily and Cal hugged one another. They always did that. Sometimes Isis thought Em liked Dad better than Mum did. Did Dad like Em better than he liked Mum? Isis didn’t think so, but she couldn’t ask anyone. Emily said, ‘Hello, Iceypop. We’re off to a restaurant for our tea … how posh is that? Give us a kiss. I’ve had a hard day at work.’

  Isis ran to kiss her aunt. ‘I’m showing Dad Mum’s flower drawings.’ Then, she turned her attention to Cal again and said, ‘I’m having a round bouquet. With pink and dark red roses. And leaves a bit darker than my dress. It’ll be soooo fantastic.’

  ‘Exactly. You took the words right out of my mouth,’ Cal said and he and Em laughed together. Isis wasn’t quite sure what was so funny. Taking words out of people’s mouths sounded horrible to her. If you could really do it, they’d come out covered in slimy spit. Double yuck! ‘I’m going to change,’ she said. ‘I’ll be back in a minute.’

  *

  Emily had been looking forward to tonight. She’d just been through an extremely tedious photo session. People who in an ideal world should have had better things to do were moving tubs of butter-substitute around a table, adding this or that prop, changing the colour of the background, adjusting the light and generally jumping at the promptings of a director who clearly thought he was making something only marginally less significant than the next Tarantino movie.

  ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said, sinking down on to the sofa, ‘but it’ll be great to go and have a meal at Luigi’s. Nice treat for us.’

  ‘And for me.’ Cal flung himself into the armchair next to the TV. ‘Isis seems very excited about all this wedding stuff.’

  ‘Well, she’s eight.’
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  Cal caught her eye and they both burst out laughing at the same time. At last, Emily thought. Someone who also thinks the wedding nonsense has a seriously juvenile side to it. Why weren’t the men she went out with on her wavelength in the way that Cal seemed to be? There wasn’t one who’d have understood what she meant without her having to explain. She said, ‘Actually, there are times when Zannah isn’t as thrilled about everything as you’d expect.’

  ‘Has she said? Some particular thing?’

  ‘Lists at the moment. Poor old Adrian. He thinks they’re going to have a nice romantic evening.’

  ‘Isis was telling me about lists. Sounds mad to me.’ Cal was still looking at the flower drawings in Zannah’s sketchbook. ‘She’s good, isn’t she? I never thought I’d find flower pictures beautiful, but these are, aren’t they?’

  ‘Yup,’ said Em, feeling unworthily jealous. Why shouldn’t Cal praise her sister’s drawings which were, indeed, exquisite? You want him to say something nice about you, she chided herself. That’s what it is. You want him to think about something … someone … other than Zannah and he doesn’t seem able to. She said, ‘Cal, are you going out with anyone?’

  Bloody hell, where had that come from? How had she found the nerve to say it? Emily knew she was blushing scarlet and would Cal wonder why? Perhaps he wouldn’t notice. She added quickly, ‘God, sorry, it’s really none of my business. Don’t answer if you don’t want to.’

  ‘I don’t mind. No one at the moment.’

  ‘But you’ve had … I mean, since you and Zannah split up … relationships with other people?’

  ‘Well, yeah, but nothing serious … you know. How about you? Mr Right come along yet?’

  ‘No, but I live in hope.’

  Cal beamed. ‘The wedding! That’s where you’ll meet him. It’s one of the main wedding clichés! Who’s Adrian’s best man? He’ll be the one. Wait and see.’

  ‘Not if I’ve got anything to do with it. All his pals are either bankers or stockbrokers or else people he plays squash with or was at school with. Too much money and not enough chin. Not my scene. No way.’

  ‘You don’t know. Cupid lets his arrow fly in the most extraordinary places. All the romantic novels I’ve ever read say so.’

  ‘How many have you read?’

  ‘None.’

  They started giggling again. Just then, Isis came back in jeans, pink trainers and a matching pink jacket. She said, ‘What’s funny? Tell me.’

  ‘It’d take too long to explain,’ Cal said. ‘Let’s go and eat.’

  *

  ‘As far as I can see,’ said Adrian, pulling up the duvet and settling down against the pillows, ‘we have to choose between John Lewis and Harrods. Or possibly Peter Jones.’

  Zannah propped herself on her elbow and began to trace circles on his chest. He bent over and started kissing her. She pulled away and said, ‘Concentrate, Adrian. I really need to talk to you about this and you’re distracting me. We can’t get carried away. I’m hungry for one thing.’

  ‘I know, I know … but it’s been ages, hasn’t it? You can’t believe how I’m longing to be married to you. Bloody sick of counting the days till I see you.’

  ‘Me too. But Adrian, we’ve got to talk about lists.’

  ‘Fire away, then. I’ve laid out the parameters of the discussion. Up to you now.’

  ‘Parameters … Well, I don’t know about that. We have to go back to basics.’

  ‘Really? What’re the basics?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure I don’t want a list at all.’

  It was Adrian’s turn to sit up in bed. ‘What? Why on earth not? Everyone has lists. How else d’you get the presents you want? I’m going to assume you’ve taken leave of your senses temporarily and you’ll soon be back to normal.’

  ‘No, I’m quite serious. Look, we’ve got all the crockery and cutlery we need. We can’t ask people to buy the sort of thing they’d choose for a couple setting out to furnish their first house, can we? And besides, if you do the presents that way, it’s so much less … personal. How can you remember whether this person bought that cruet set or that person came across with a toaster?’ Zannah paused for breath but Adrian didn’t look as though he was about to speak so she plunged on. ‘Also, even if you could remember, I don’t think it’s right to be able to check exactly what this or that friend forked out for you. I’d never use a list to buy a wedding present, so I think it ought to work both ways. I reckon our friends should use their imagination.’

  Adrian made a sound that was almost ‘Pah’ but not quite. It sounded crosser than that and Zannah was quick to insert herself into the curve of his arm and snuggle close as she said, ‘Don’t be angry. Humour me. Everyone’ll manage perfectly well and we won’t have to stand around in John Lewis for hours deciding on things we want. Yes?’

  ‘Oh, God, I suppose so. I can’t win when you dig your heels in, Zannah. You know that.’

  ‘Am I so bossy?’

  ‘Yup. But so’s my ma and I’m going to have to break the news to her.’

  ‘She won’t mind, will she?’

  ‘Probably. But I’ll blame you. How’s that?’

  ‘Okay … ’

  He was kissing her again. Zannah closed her eyes and allowed herself to be carried along in a stream of desire. It was only after they’d got up and dressed and started looking for something to cook for supper that Zannah remembered about tomorrow night and the conversation she and Emily were going to have with their mother. God, it would be difficult. She sighed and Adrian said, ‘Something wrong?’

  ‘No, darling,’ she answered. ‘Nothing, really. I love you.’

  ‘Me too,’ he said, and slid his hands round her waist.

  ‘Go away, please,’ Zannah said. ‘Or this food will never be ready.’

  ‘I don’t care. Do you?’

  ‘Yes, I do. I’m hungry.’

  ‘Okay, okay. I’ll wait till after supper.’

  Zannah smiled. ‘I’ve got to go home after supper.’

  ‘Not at once.’

  ‘No, not quite at once. God, you’re greedy.’

  ‘You’re greedy too. Admit it.’

  Zannah grinned. ‘I suppose I am.’

  Thursday

  ‘This is lovely, isn’t it? It’s so long since it’s been just the three of us together. Years, really.’

  Joss took a sip of wine and smiled across the table at her daughters, happiness rising in her, flooding her with an almost physical love for them both. Zannah had bought lots of delicious food (‘All M&S, though. Can’t do cooking on a school night. Not proper cooking.’) and during the meal they’d laughed and she’d described the lengths to which their father had gone to avoid accompanying her to the places she’d wanted to visit.

  ‘Mostly shops, I suppose, but also the Palais de Cluny to see the Lady and the Unicorn tapestries. They’re my favourite things in the whole of Paris and he only came with a moan and a sigh, muttering about “that unicorn novel you ladies were all so keen on”. I did point out to him that there’s more to the past than Egyptian mummies, but he wasn’t happy. You could tell. His attention span, for a scholar, is dreadful if he’s not actually studying the thing that’s in front of him. Never mind … It was lovely, really. A wonderful break.’

  Zannah and Em said nothing, which surprised her. Surely they couldn’t tell, from that anecdote, how difficult some parts of the last couple of days had been? True, there had been good times: pleasant meals when she and Bob had started to speak to one another in a way that Joss had almost forgotten was possible: as though they were single people without jobs or children. Bob talked about Egypt. She tried to talk about her poems, but it was hard to articulate how she felt about them and it was clear that he wasn’t interested, even though he made an effort to pretend to be. After about a quarter of an hour, though, Joss noticed that they always went back to discussing the girls (their name, still, for Zannah and Emily) and Isis and Bob’s work. The wedding. A long
debate about the music for the service took up the whole of one lunch and that was the nearest Joss came to forgetting about everything else. The rest of the time, she felt as though she were carrying a burden and couldn’t identify what it was, but only knew she couldn’t put it down.

  Each night, Bob had made love to her, in the same way he had made love to her for over thirty years: gently, pleasantly, kindly. Joss grew to dread bedtime, but she couldn’t refuse him and, in a way, she didn’t want to. She was used to him. It was soothing to be held and kissed, even absent-mindedly. She closed her eyes and went through every kind of mental contortion to stop herself thinking about Gray. She did what men were always advised to do, to defer their orgasms: she made lists. Lists of flowers she would have in the bouquets, if it were left to her. Things to do when she got home. People to whom she had to send postcards. Anything to distract her mind and body from the weight that had taken up residence in her being: her love for another man. The heaviness, she knew, came from uncertainty and doubt about the wisdom of leaving Bob and everything she’d known for so long to live with Gray. When she thought of the two families being broken up, it was a visual image of ruined buildings and smashed wooden beams that came to her mind, just like the pictures that followed a bombing. It wasn’t like the ships on the walls of the Shipwreck Café. Those were going down, broken into pieces, but they were alone and separate. She was going to help explode two entire families … Was she capable of doing that?

  ‘Ma?’ Zannah had sat up in her chair and adopted a pose that Joss recognized from her daughter’s earliest childhood: a sort of alertness, a neatness, the hands clasped together in front of her on the table. It was the way she always looked when she wanted to broach a difficult subject. Joss glanced at Emily. She was staring down at her plate, and to anyone other than her mother, the tension in her wouldn’t have been apparent.