by V. G. Lee
Michelle says, ‘Put that lot on everyday. Look like a star, feel like a star, get treated like a star.’
Walk home, features carefully positioned. Study new me in hall mirror. Like what I see but how to reconcile young Dame Judi Dench with also being a Jedi knight? Log on to the Bittlesea Bay Badger Protection Society website and become their sixth member. Almost immediately I receive an email welcoming me and offering a chance to See Badgers at Play! Am also offered an information pack for the remittance of two pounds fifty which covers printing costs plus tea and biscuits at each meeting.
August 25th
Wear cotton beanie hat to Russell’s as don’t want LC to see my particularly attractive hair before Supperette Club on Saturday. Very hot. Head threatens to explode.
August 26th
Ditto.
August 27th
Lorraine Carter’s Supperette Club is surprisingly well attended. Seems that women have come from as far as Brighton. Early on I overhear someone say, ‘I’ve come all the way from Brighton. Quite a slog to get here.’
The club is in a room at the back of the Felgate Arms, a pub tucked away on the outskirts of Bittlesea Bay, which Georgie and I passed many times, always making a comment on how uninviting the building looked. However, the back room has been transformed. NB. Realise having never been in back room have no real way of knowing what it looked like before but assume the addition of pink and purple balloons, a banner proclaiming ‘Welcome! Women of the South Coast!’ and at least twenty candles are down to Lorraine Carter who is wearing a natty striped shirt (plus trousers and shoes) and making introductions in a confident drawl. Sees me and calls out, ‘Ah Margaret...’ Comes close and murmurs, ‘You have made an effort, dear.’
I have made an effort. Have slapped on all Michelle’s unguents, including the bronzante, and wear a pair of black linen trousers and a white shirt, which sets off my bronzed face and neck. Notice my hands and wrists look unhealthily pale and resolve to keep these (when possible) out of sight.
Lorraine takes hold of my arm and uses me as a battering ram to break into an already animated circle.
‘This is Margaret. She’s a writer. Rather well known in literary circles. Margaret, I’m sure these ladies will look after you. Rather shy,’ she says to ladies, before heading towards the open door where more women are arriving.
My arm is grabbed again. ‘You’re Sarah Waters aren’t you?’
Admit that I’m not, nor Jackie Kay or Stella Duffy. Someone says, ‘Perhaps she’s the mother of a famous lesbian writer.’ Someone else states quite aggressively, ‘Well you’re certainly not Jeanette Winterson,’ as if my next strategy might be to try to pass myself off as Jeanette Winterson. Am about to explain that I am nobody in particular, when in my head I hear a chorus of Deirdre’s and Michelle’s voices, Big yourself up, Margaret, act like a star, get treated like a star... Modestly confess to being a diarist in the reportage style of Samuel Pepys. Immediately an expert on Pepys steps forward, face radiant at finding a soul mate. She says, ‘Can we get away from this crowd and have a really rigorous discussion?’
Respond quickly. Say, ‘Actually no. At the moment I’m up to here with Samuel Pepys,’ and pull an expression of intense exhaustion.
‘I quite understand. He’s so very comprehensive, so detailed, so historically absorbing...’
I hold up hand, laugh, step backwards, turn on heel and head for supper table. For six pounds I am able to buy a large bowl of salad, a large baked potato and a large plate of vegetable curry, plus a raffle ticket that gives me the chance to get in free the following month. As a non-smoker I take my various plates and sit with my non-smoking sisters in the spacious and brightly lit non-smoking section. Find myself staring wistfully across to the darkened, candle-lit, smoke filled smoking area where the women look much more mysterious, sophisticated and the kind of women I might like to know. Find myself thinking of Georgie.
A non-smoker offers to buy me a drink, tapping a plastic bottle of Buxton Spa water tantalizingly. ‘Thank you,’ I say. ‘I’d love one.’
Smilingly she brings it back. ‘One pound twenty.’
‘That much?’ I sympathize.
‘No, you owe me one pound twenty.’
It may seem as if I’m saying non-smokers are mean and dour, which obviously I’m not, because I and many of my friends are non-smokers and we/they are very attractive and generous women. It’s just that a woman with a cigarette in one hand, glass of wine in the other, open necked shirt with gold jewellery, tanned ankles set off by white socks and some sort of jaunty loafer - well these are just a few of my favourite things!
Decide to go home before the raffle. On my way out I meet Lorraine Carter. Say boldly, ‘Lorraine why did you tell everyone that I was a writer? It made me look very foolish.’
She folded her arms (possible defensive movement), said, ‘Did you want me to tell them you were my cleaner?’
‘You didn’t have to tell them anything about me.’
She moved closer, pushed her face into mine. ‘It was a joke Margaret.’
‘Not a very funny one.’
‘Oh please,’ she said and went back inside.
August 28th
Spent day debating with myself re. job at Russell’s. Have never experienced someone disliking me before. Who to talk to? Deirdre definitely not the right person, nor Laura. Rang Janice, although she’d never replied to my cut-off phone call weeks earlier. Resolved that I would not leave a message if she didn’t answer. She didn’t answer.
Spent much of evening feeling sorry for myself, thinking how I was on my own with nobody to rely on for help. Went to bed. Dreadfully missed at least having Tilly to cuddle. Made resolution to be strong, self sufficient - sleepily found myself searching for words beginning with ‘s’. Last words remembered, sure footed.
August 29th
Caught Lorraine Carter watching me with a smug smirk. Nobody else around so pulled the most horrific face I could manage at her. She looked startled but said nothing.
August 30th
Visit this morning from Deirdre’s other neighbours, Vera and Morag. I’m still eating croissants and reading the Sunday paper when they arrive, their mission - to sound me out re. light from Deirdre’s antique lamppost.
‘Honestly Margaret, I’ve never needed curtains before,’ Morag says. ‘Go to bed when I’m tired, wake up with the dawn. I’ve tried an eye mask but it’s left a wavy indentation under my eyes.’
Indeed it has.
‘Doesn’t the light bother you?’
Explain that I sleep in the front bedroom, even so am aware that Deirdre’s lamp-post is on from dusk till midnight and then off and on triggered by a) burglars, b) a badger, fox, cat, mouse, c) gust of wind, d) Deirdre who is a light sleeper and always on look-out for possible burglar, badger, fox, cat or mouse. At almost any hour of the night our back gardens can be suddenly transformed into a scene from Colditz when an escape attempt has been rumbled. Englander, we can see you! Give yourself up or take the consequences! NB. Know this because I’m often awake during night and looking out of windows. Am not sure why.
I ask Vera and Morag in and offer tea. We sit in my front room rather than the kitchen where they would see offending lamp-post sticking up above Deirdre’s sea blue willow fencing like a prop from Dixon of Dock Green.
‘You’ve got it very nice in here,’ Vera says approvingly. ‘I like your faded florals.’
This is reference to recently purchased floral cushion covers from Hospice shop, under influence of Deirdre’s Regency Buck chic look. Find myself regarding these with suddenly critical eye as have been into Morag’s and Vera’s house and found their clash of floral, stripe, pattern and pictorial to be unrelaxing rather than obviously RB chic.
‘Very nice,’ Morag agrees briskly. ‘Now Margaret, we know Deirdre is a friend of yours so what’s to be done?’
I promise I will have a word, murmur the phrase possible compromise could be reached.
; ‘We’ve already had to compromise with our panties,’ Morag says.
NB. Wonder why I react against word ‘panties’? Decide word represents too much intimate information about Vera and Morag.
Vera agrees and adds bewilderingly, ‘I hope it won’t escalate into the War of Jenkins’ Ear.’
I say, ‘It shouldn’t come to that.’
August 31st
Definitely don’t want to speak to Deirdre about lamp-post at the moment. Am avoiding her. Just when I thought her harebrained scheme of Lord Dudley going on stage had died a natural death, Deirdre has left a message that, on the contrary, Lord Dudley’s acting career is very much on track. He may get a pantomime booking in one of a possible several small theatres within a fifty-mile radius of Bittlesea Bay.
‘Margaret, it is imperative that you come up with a vehicle in which Lord Dudley can shine by the weekend as Martin’s borrowed a camcorder.’
Am wondering if I could just disappear?
Do not disappear. Retrieve playlet that I’d started when Tilly was alive. Complete nonsense but encompasses Lord Dudley’s predilection for sitting in box lids and leaping onto visitors’ stomachs. Briefly it is an advert for indigestion tablets: family lying prostrate on settees, armchairs, floors etc after large meal. Enter Lord Dudley, who leaps from one stomach to another. ‘Ouf!’ recipients of Lord Dudley’s leap shout...Lord Dudley makes final triumphant leap onto table. On table is lidded box. Lord Dudley knocks box to floor, retaining box lid. A shower of Rennies, Eno’s, Alka Seltzer or Andrews shoot out of upended box. That’s just what we need, says senior family member. What a clever cat! Lord Dudley sits in box lid looking proud.
Showed script to Deirdre. She is genuinely thrilled. The moment Martin comes back from the Corner Coffee Shop she will get him to begin filming. Will I be a full-up family member? No! I stop Deirdre from rushing out of my kitchen door clutching script.
‘In return, Deirdre, I want you to do me a favour?’
Deirdre’s smiling face closes up like a flower when the sun goes in. She rightly mistrusts friends asking favours. ‘What do you want?’
‘I want you to get Martin to put a timer on your lamp-post so that it doesn’t come on after ten o’clock at night.’
‘Those witches have got to you, haven’t they?’
‘Morag and Vera did call round but they have a point.’
Deirdre, as always when crossed, furious. Shouts, ‘Sod ’em.’
I ask her to keep her voice down. She bellows, ‘There is no way I’m going to expose my soft underbelly to those two!’
Reply that it shouldn’t come to that with a little diplomacy.
Deirdre demands, ‘Why should I have to be the diplomatic patsy?’
‘Because you won’t get this script otherwise. If I say so myself, it’s excellent and may launch Lord Dudley on a brilliant career.’
Deirdre smiles maternally, ‘Do you really think so?’
‘Anything’s possible.’
A moment’s impasse then, ‘Oh very well. Actually Martin’s been complaining as well, this gives me an honourable way of giving in to him without seeming to give in. Done, but I hate those two old...crab apples.’
September
September 1st
Go to evening meeting of BB Badger Protection Society. Meet in a woman called Monica’s house. There are five of us: four women and one man. Monica says eagerly that on one occasion eight people came and she ran out of chairs. Did not know what to say so sucked in my breath which seemed to satisfy her. We sat round her round coffee table. The first half hour spent studying a map of Bittlesea Bay and discussing whether a proposed ring road was a good thing or a bad thing. Man said if it got him to B & Q quicker it would get his vote. Monica brought in tea and marshmallows - women had one each, man had four.
‘Regarding the badgers...’ I said. So far no badgers mentioned.
Man said, ‘Not much on the badger front at the minute. It’s getting a bit nippy to be hanging about at night.’
‘When would be a good time for me to come back, badger-wise?’
They all looked nonplussed. Monica said defensively, ‘We do address many other environmental issues - this ring road being a point in question.’
‘I don’t have a car.’
‘But that’s hardly the attitude...’
Made my excuses and left. Dusk outside and very pleasant. Walked slowly, enjoying the freedom of being out of Monica’s sitting room. Became aware that Janice was walking, no striding, along at my side.
‘Hello stranger,’ I said.
‘Hello,’ she said sullenly.
‘You always seem a little sullen, Janice. Is that the real you or is there someone else behind a sullen mask?’
She grinned and slipped my arm through hers which made me, inside, feel quite choked. Couldn’t remember the last time anyone had shown me spontaneous physical affection. Such a small gesture, but still.
Janice walked me home. At my gate she stopped. ‘Any news of Georgie?’ she asked, the expression on her face closing again.
‘None. Coming in for tea, a glass of wine?’
‘Better not.’
She looked as if she was about to say something, almost a woman torn. ‘Perhaps we could meet up one afternoon?’ she asked hesitantly.
‘Great. Yes. Shall I ring you or you ring me?’ Oh Margaret, must you sound so desperate?
‘I’ll ring. Take care.’
And off she loped, her shoulders hunched.
September 2nd
Write to Listening Ear re. lack of sufficient space in town’s main meeting place, the Corner Coffee Shop. Ask whether it is justifiable for single male customers to monopolize a four-person table for anything up to three hours? Quote: I myself have experienced this selfishness first hand when searching for a seat after a strenuous day’s shopping. I have been met with open hostility and actual lies as in, ‘I’m expecting a party of three.’ ‘Three’ who failed to materialize during my hour spent perched on bar stool which is probably the worst form of seating for person with persistent back problems.
Sign myself A. Oakley, Orthopaedic Practitioner, Four Poster House, Bittlesea Bay.
September 4th
Go to Odeon with Deirdre and Martin. Film, Spider-Man 2. Martin, as always, in charge of ice-cream tub selection from freezer cabinet while Deirdre buys cinema tickets. As Deirdre is about to part with twenty pound note for three tickets (cinema, Deirdre’s treat today as she’s just had an order for several trillion pounds worth of canned fruit label designs) Martin shouts, ‘Hold everything - there’s no ice-cream!’
Cashier says mildly, ‘You’re not wrong.’
Martin says heavily, ‘I know I’m not wrong. Where is it?’
‘We’re out of ice-cream.’
‘As in today, tomorrow, forever?’
‘Beginning of week.’
‘What kind of cinema runs out of ice-cream?’ Martin roars. People queuing behind Deirdre begin to shuffle impatiently.
‘Couldn’t we buy tubs in Marks & Spencer?’ asks Deirdre.
Martin fixes her with his I’m seeing you in a new light Deirdre and not liking what I see, says icily, ‘Are you bonkers? M & S ice-cream tubs must be ten times the size of our usual one person tub and I DON’T SHARE!’
‘I don’t either,’ Deirdre says appeasingly.
‘Me neither,’ I say agreeably.
‘Then what are we going to do with tubs that big? Make ourselves sick?’
Woman behind Deirdre says, ‘If you don’t want tickets can you get out of the queue?’ which enrages both Deirdre and Martin.
‘If I want to stand in this queue for the rest of my life I defend my right to do so,’ shouts Martin.
‘We may be buying tickets, we’ve not decided yet.’ Deirdre tosses back her curly mane.
‘Decide somewhere else, sweetheart - I’m losing my rag,’ man shouts.
‘What?! What did you say?!’ Martin roars.
Deirdre and I hust
le Martin out of the queue and we reconvene at the popcorn counter. ‘We’ll get popcorn,’ Deirdre says, determinedly cheerful.
‘We will not. We’re going home. I will not watch a film without my tub.’ And Martin storms out onto the pavement.
Leave Deirdre and Martin making their way acrimoniously towards the car park. Go back in cinema, buy ticket, buy giant packet of M & M’s. Watch Spider-Man 2. Very enjoyable.
September 6th
Go with Deirdre and Martin to watch Spider-Man 2 as don’t like to admit I’ve seen it without them. Pull face at cashier not to give me away. He ignores me. Plentiful tubs. Multiple flavours. Toffee for me. Even on second viewing an excellent film.
September 7th
Receive email from Tabby, ex-old school chum. Says she may be passing through Bittlesea Bay during the next fortnight and might look me up, which will involve her staying two nights. Reply in urgent tone; on no account look me up as am suffering from a highly contagious virus. Delete unnecessary embellishment re. food parcels being left on front step for fear of spreading infection in community.
September 8th
Tom Matthews has given Miriam and myself a ten percent rise plus bonus. He says he’s had a brilliant year, that his luck changed when he came clean about his sexuality. Miriam tells Tom that she’s so glad he did and that the only way to salvation is through the Lord and complete honesty. Miriam beginning to sound more like a vicar than her vicar. Have seen her studying the Bible and making notes. Believe her to be memorizing appropriate verses, including large sections of the Sermon on the Mount.
To celebrate the success of TM Accountancy Tom is arranging a small drinks party on Friday, or at least Tom is giving us money to arrange a small drinks party for him. It will be a select few. Miriam and the vicar, Tom and his boyfriend, and me.