A Different River

by Jo Verity

  ‘Have you thought this through?’ he said.

  ‘Not in fine detail. I wanted to discuss it with you. It feels wrong that a house belonging to me is standing empty whilst my best friend has nowhere decent to live. Mum and Dad liked Frankie. They’d think it was a good thing to do.’

  ‘Wouldn’t it be simpler to sell and have done with it?’

  ‘Simple doesn’t necessarily mean right,’ she said. ‘And what if Danny comes back? He’s going to need somewhere—’

  ‘Mim, my love, Danny isn’t coming back. This has been going on long enough. It’s time to let him go.’

  ‘No. You can’t say that. You aren’t allowed to decide whether he’s alive or dead.’

  He held his hands up in submission. ‘All I’m trying to say is that your brother’s absence is blighting your life.’

  ‘D’you think I don’t know that? I’m worn out with it.’ She began to cry. ‘What’s the matter with my family? They’re incapable of dying normal deaths.’

  She felt Bing’s arms around her. ‘Shhhh. Don’t upset yourself. Look. If Frankie moving in for a while eliminates one of your worries, why don’t you ring her now? See how she’s fixed.’

  She left several messages before Frankie got back to her. She was in Gloucester, working in a hotel and renting a room in a ‘friend of a friend’s’ flat. Details were sketchy but judging by what wasn’t said, the set-up was grim. Miriam had been pondering the best way to put her proposal. ‘We were wondering if you could do us a favour.’ She explained that the house needed looking after through the winter and that Frankie would be doing them a great service by moving in. Acting as a sort of concierge. Of course, if she were happy where she was… Frankie wasn’t daft. She knew what was going on but she played along with it. She’d think about it. Were she to say yes, she’d have to find work of course – but she should be able to pick something up, especially with Christmas on the horizon. Could she have a couple of days to weigh it up? She phoned back next evening accepting the offer and they agreed she would move in as soon as she could get herself organised.

  When Miriam told Naomi of the arrangement, she detected a note of reticence in her daughter’s ‘what a great idea, Mum’. And she began having a few doubts of her own. If Frankie failed to find a job, she’d be at a loose end, without money or friends, or anything to keep her busy. More troubling still, what if she acquired a band of hangers-on – lame ducks needing a roof over their heads? ‘Am I doing the right thing?’ she asked Hazel.

  ‘It’s your house. It’s up to you what you do with it.’ Hazel paused. ‘It might be wise to lay down a few ground rules.’

  ‘I’m not sure how I would do that, or what those rules would be. Frankie’s not a teenager who can be told.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Another pause. ‘Didn’t you tell me that she and Paul were once an item?’

  ‘For a few months. When we were at school. Then she got bored and passed him on to me. Why d’you ask?’

  ‘Is that likely to cause a problem? Old girlfriend back on the scene. That sort of thing.’

  ‘Absolutely not. For one thing, they don’t get on.’

  ‘So will that cause a problem?’

  Miriam had a set of keys cut and stocked the fridge with essentials. She aired the beds, washed the towels and bumped up the central heating, occasionally stopping to remind herself that she was landlady not hostess. Frankie arrived with two suitcases and a backpack. (How could a woman of her age have so few worldly goods?) Noting how defeated she looked, Miriam knew she’d been right in offering her friend respite. Frankie must have been mulling over the implications of the set-up and they were hardly through the door before she was reassuring Miriam that should she decide to sell the house, or want to live there herself, or should she change her mind about anything, she had only to say the word.

  ‘I won’t smoke in the house. Or pester you and Bing. And you must make a list of jobs. I want to be useful. You’ll tell me if I’m doing anything wrong, won’t you? To be honest, things haven’t been brilliant recently. I’ve done more than my fair share of stupid things but I’m not going to fuck this up.’

  Driving off, leaving her friend on her own, Miriam was a whisker away from inviting her back for dinner. But for this arrangement to succeed, Frankie must stand on her own two feet.

  ‘Did you discuss household bills?’ Bing said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘You can’t be thinking of paying the woman’s running costs.’

  ‘Of course not. She can be irresponsible but she’s not stupid. She knows she’s getting a good deal.’

  ‘I should bloody well hope she does.’

  ‘We’ll sort out the bills in the next day or two but I can’t start straight in asking for money before she’s even unpacked.’

  ‘It’s the perfect time if you ask me.’ He shook his head and shrugged.

  ‘She’s changed, Bing. She’s determined not to screw this up.’

  ‘This is Frankie Slattery we’re talking about?’

  ‘Please don’t be snarky. We’re not going to fall out over this are we?’

  ‘Of course not.’ He sighed. ‘Sorry if I seem negative but I worry she’ll let you down.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s the right thing to do. She says she’ll start looking for a job tomorrow.’

  ‘I may be able to help there. The dentists on the other side of the square are looking for a receptionist. Their new girl’s walked out on them and they’re desperate.’

  ‘Really? She’s done loads of admin work. And she’s terrific with people. It sounds ideal.’

  Frankie went for an interview and started immediately. Within a few weeks, by all accounts she was running the place. The dentists sent over a bottle of whisky for Bing as a thank you for finding them such a ‘treasure’.

  The issue of household bills was soon sorted out. They would cover standing charges – Frankie would cover the balance. When Miriam put this to her, Frankie confessed to having no money at all. This came as no great surprise to Miriam who insisted on lending her four hundred pounds to tide her over. ‘Best we keep this between us,’ she said. ‘Pay me back as and when.’

  ‘I don’t know how to thank you, Mim.’ Frankie dipped her head. ‘I haven’t forgotten the two hundred you hid in my suitcase that time. It may take a while but I’m going to pay back every penny. For once in my life I’d like to do things properly.’

  ‘Is Paul happy with her being there?’ Hazel said.

  ‘He’s getting used to it. To be honest, it’s not made much difference. We don’t see a lot of her. I pop in for an occasional chat and to pick up bits of mail. She’s had dinner with us once. She’s doing her best not to intrude.’

  ‘Doesn’t she have any family?’

  ‘A couple of brothers but they’ve always been useless. She never mentions them. She puts on a brave face but it’s obvious she was at rock bottom. As far as I can make out, she’s had no support from anyone in a long while.’

  ‘Except you, that is. Not many people would do what you’re doing.’

  ‘It’s no big deal. We’re not desperate for the money and in fact hanging on to the place is probably the smart thing to do with house prices on the rise.’

  ‘There’s more to it than that though, isn’t there?’ Hazel said.

  ‘I suppose so. My parents liked her. They didn’t have a clue what she was about but I think she brought a breath of fresh air into their conventional lives. If they’d known she was struggling, they’d have offered her a home, I’m sure of that.’ She paused. ‘Having someone they were fond of living there, makes their absence easier to cope with. Does that make any sort of sense?’

  Hazel nodded. ‘Absolutely. My parents bought their house when they were newlyweds. They lived in it all their married life. Every square inch of it was steeped in them. When Dad died there was no question of Mum moving. All her memories were there. When she died, I had no choice but to sell. Having strangers move in whilst they – or t
heir essence – was still tangible, was an affront to their memory. It pained me to walk past the place. Real physical pain. Your parents will be comfortable sharing their home with your friend until they’re ready to leave.’

  Miriam shivered. ‘That’s it exactly. The essence of them is still there and I suppose it will be until I can bring myself to accept they really have gone.’ She held out her bare arm. ‘Look, I’m all goosebumps.’

  Christmas had been a mirage, off in the distance, blurry and illusory, but when the calendar flipped to December, Miriam was forced to acknowledge its reality.

  Naomi invited them to go there, peppering her offer with ‘no pressure’ and ‘don’t feel you have to’. Bing’s children, it seemed, all had ‘longstanding commitments’ which ruled them out, and made things easier. She had no idea what Frankie was planning to do. She’d made a crowd of friends at work and was going to a Christmas ‘do’ at the golf club. But Christmas Day itself was sure to be tough. The thought of her eating her solitary Christmas meal and, more than likely, drinking herself into oblivion was distressing.

  As The Day drew nearer, Bing said he would be happy to go along with whatever she wanted. She’d love to be with the children on Christmas Day but she knew he’d prefer to stay at home. And then there was Frankie. She dithered for a few days until Max clinched it by emailing imploring them to come, saying Christmas wouldn’t be any fun without them. And should he happen to get the Lego set he ‘needed’, Bing would be welcome to help build it.

  ‘Why don’t we drive to them on Christmas morning?’ she said. ‘We can have a Christmas Eve celebration here. Just we two.’

  ‘I’m always banging on about myself,’ Frankie said when Miriam called with a Christmas card. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I miss them, of course I do, but sometimes I feel sad that I don’t feel sadder, if you know what I mean. I’ve been trying to remember my last conversation with them. I have a feeling it had to do with tinned tomatoes. They got it into their heads that processed tomatoes are the elixir of life. They’d stockpiled dozens of tins of the wretched things.’

  ‘Better tinned tomatoes than incontinence pads,’ Frankie said.

  ‘You’re right. They were old but in remarkably good health. They went together. They didn’t suffer. That’s probably as good as it ever gets. All the same, it doesn’t stop my wishing I’d been able to say a proper goodbye.’

  ‘Poor Mim. We rely on you, don’t we? Bing. Naomi. Me. Perhaps, once in a while, you ought to let us down. Make us realise how much you do for us.’ She clapped her hands. ‘I nearly forgot.’

  She took a notebook from her handbag, ‘I.O. Mim’ written on the cover. Inside were two crisp notes. ‘Here’s another twenty. That brings it down to four hundred and ninety.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ Miriam said. ‘Don’t leave yourself short over the break. Look, will you be okay?’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you? One of our dental nurses – Jen – works with the homeless. She asked me to lend a hand over the holiday. Quite a turn-up, don’t you think? I’m usually the charity case but, thanks to you, I’m in a position to help someone else. It feels really good.’

  29

  Whilst Miriam wasn’t paying attention, Hazel had acquired an admirer, a lanky Scot called Gavin who taught music and was excruciatingly shy. Judging by her new hairstyle and the perfume she’d taken to wearing, it seemed she was quite keen. This year, instead of going to Devon, she was spending Christmas at home with Gavin. Miriam was delighted that she’d found someone to appreciate her honesty, humour and wisdom. Other good things were happening too. David was officially back with Naomi and, fingers crossed, Frankie was making a go of her job. After months of sorrow and uncertainty, the year was ending well for those whom she most loved.

  Angelgate, with its bow-fronted shops and soft street lights, was made for Christmas. The Salvation Army playing on the cathedral green and the scent of roasting chestnuts, enhanced the ambience. Last-minute shoppers wandering down the cobbled lane, were lured into the bookshop with the offer of free gift-wrapping and a tot of mulled wine. They’d sold out of Moleskine notebooks earlier in the week, and the big hit of the season was a pricey book on gargoyles, a tie-in with a popular television series. ‘Thank God for sexy TV presenters,’ Hazel said.

  As the light faded, customers evaporated. ‘Have fun,’ Hazel said as they set the shop straight and collected their bits and pieces. ‘I hope everything goes to plan.’

  ‘This will be my third Christmas as a widow, my first as an orphan,’ Miriam said. ‘Generally people do it the other way. I’m glad we’re going to Naomi’s. I won’t have a chance to be gloomy. You have a lovely time with your Gavin. He’s a sweet chap.’

  ‘He is,’ Hazel said, ‘but I’m not sure he’s my Gavin. We get on fine but I’m growing selfish in my old age. And lazy. I love my life the way it is. I’m not looking too far ahead. Having a nice man to spend weekends and holidays with, and, yes, have sex with, that may be enough. I hope Gavin’s content to go along with that. If not, I won’t stop him moving on.’

  They went their separate ways and, as Miriam stood at the bus stop, she recalled her conversation with Bente – ‘when it stops being good we will shake hands and call it a day’ – and she felt a surge of respect for both women’s resolve not to settle for second best.

  Bing was already home and the house smelled of freshly-brewed coffee.

  ‘What’s all this?’ she said pointing to half a dozen packages piled on the kitchen table.

  ‘They’re from patients. Bribes to keep them alive.’ Bing lifted up what could only be a bottle. ‘I spend hours telling them to cut back on sugar and alcohol. Come Christmas, they give me booze and chocolates.’

  Whilst they pottered in the kitchen, she told him how Frankie was spending the next few days. He seemed less than impressed. If she – Frankie – wanted to gain his approval, she needed to do more than dole out hot meals and blankets once in a blue moon. Miriam wished they would set aside their differences. Their mutual mistrust impacted on her. They should recognise that and at least pretend to get along.

  She’d bought turbot from the fishmonger in the market and, to follow, a selection of cheeses from the deli opposite the shop. Bing unwrapped his bottle-shaped gift, on the off-chance that Mr Jenkins had defied expectations and given him something white, dry and delicious, but it was supermarket rosé and they broke out the Pouilly-Fumé, bought when it was on offer at Waitrose.

  After they’d cleared away, they sat by the fire listening to Britten’s ‘Ceremony of Carols’. ‘I remember singing this with the school choir.’ she said. ‘My parents would have had forty fits if they’d known, but I honestly didn’t think of it as having anything to do with religion.’

  ‘Do you believe there’s a god?’ Bing said. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever asked.’

  ‘I try not to but, once in a while, my defences drop. You?’

  ‘No I don’t. But seventy-five percent of doctors do.’

  ‘That’s astonishing,’ she said.

  ‘Isn’t it. I’ve got this theory. If things go pear-shaped, they can square it with themselves.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘They pass the buck. It’s God’s will, and all that.’

  ‘But you told me you believe in destiny. Isn’t that the same thing?’

  ‘Not at all. Destiny isn’t wilful or whimsical like God—’

  ‘Who doesn’t exist.’

  ‘Exist or not, he’s caused you and me enough grief in the past,’ he said. ‘Let’s not let him spoil our second Christmas together.’

  The sky was streaked with slivers of luminous yellow and a skim of frost decorated the fields. The boot was stashed with gifts and goodies, and a carrier bag containing flask and mince pies was sitting on the back seat. They pootled along, marvelling at the lack of traffic. There was something subversive about taking to the open road on this, the most prescribed day of the year. They could be jailbirds out on a spree, making the most
of their freedom before recapture and incarceration. They drank their coffee in a layby, exchanging Christmas greetings with another couple who were also en route to a family gathering. On any other day but this, chatting to strangers, offering them mince pies, would be unthinkable. But today regular rules didn’t apply.

  When they reached their destination, they sat in the car, enjoying a final few moments to themselves. ‘Thanks for coming,’ she said. ‘If I were at home it would be all too easy to wallow in Christmases past. We shan’t have a chance to do that. Children don’t go in for self-pity. And if they do reminisce, it’s about something funny or scary. I’m sure they’ll tell you about the time the smoke alarm went off and we couldn’t stop it. The noise was intolerable. I could feel it damaging my ear drums. David ended up ripping it off the ceiling and dumping it in a bucket of water. I do love David. I’d given up hope of their getting back together but he hung in there. I’m not sure I would have put up with Naomi’s nonsense. She got to be very prickly. Mind you, my living there probably didn’t help.’

  ‘Come on, Mim. You were twenty-four-seven childcare.’