by Julia Kelly
‘Sorry, now make some room for yourself there.’ She gestured at the table. She lifted the wet washing away, leaving a huge circular ring on the wood.
‘Think I need to cut the grass; I just spent twenty minutes stabbing the clothes line around the garden trying to find the flipping hole. Didn’t find it, of course.’
‘I love cutting the grass,’ I said, just for something to say. ‘I like that it’s a job with a proper start and finish.’
‘Well, don’t let me stop you,’ she said with her smoker’s cackle. I noticed she was wearing blue eye-shadow. I’d never seen her wear make-up before; she would never bother for the library and she was such a tomboy that it looked quite odd, it almost gave her the appearance of a transvestite.
‘A takeaway OK for you? Indian all right?’
‘Perfect,’ I said, hoping my relief wasn’t too obvious.
‘You’re very good bringing me wine.’ She put the bottle in the fridge, then lifted a box beside it on the floor.
‘Look at these.’ She held up some tan boots with tassels. ‘I love them, they make my legs look slender, make me feel a little bit sexy and make me taller. They looked fab with the dress I was wearing last night, so what’s the problem? I can’t walk in them at all. How do you do it?’ she said looking at mine.
Billy thundered in. He was on his way out, looking smarter than I’d ever seen him before in a blue checked shirt, cream chinos and his hair gelled into place; ‘up hair’ as Addie would say.
He stood above his mother. We were now in the sitting room where Belinda had kicked off her slippers and was leaning back in an armchair, balancing her glass of wine on its arm. It was a moss-green one which had one of those flip-out bits at the end for her feet. It looked like it was where she always sat.
Billy didn’t say anything, just rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.
‘Manners!’ she said, shoved her socked foot at his thigh and inclined her head towards me.
He turned around, grimaced.
‘How’s it goin’?’
I smiled at him.
‘Moolah, Mama?’
She groaned. ‘My bag’s in the hall.’
He reappeared, flouncing and mincing around with his mum’s black leather bag on his arm and her scarf around his neck. ‘This it?’
‘Ah, Billy, would you cop on? You know that’s it! How many bleedin’ bags do you think I own? Give it here. OK, we said twenty, didn’t we?’
‘Thanks, Ma. See you later.’
‘Eh, excuse me! Come back here, young man. Haven’t you forgotten something?’
‘Ah, Jaysus, Ma.’
‘Come here to me.’
She offered her cheek for a kiss and wrapped her arms around him.
‘Good boy. You smell only gorgeous,’ she said, pulling him closer, and then, ‘Do you have drink taken?’
‘Just a few cans, will you get off my case?’
‘Where are you off to, anyway?’ she shouted after him.
‘Just out!’ He slammed the front door.
She made a face at me. ‘What can you do?’
*
‘I’m starting to think I’m just bad for men. They seem to begin life with me extrovert, healthy, full of energy, but by the end they are washed-up, sickly introverts.’ And then, once they’ve left me, they get back on their feet and land big jobs in Amsterdam, I thought but didn’t say. ‘Do you think I’m an enabler? Am I making them that way?’
We were onto our second bottle of wine. The room was warm, I was cosy on the sofa, Belinda curled up in her armchair opposite me.
‘That’s crazy. Why do women always blame themselves for these things?’
‘I’m just saying it’s a bit of a coincidence. There seems to be a pattern. I remember when things were really bad between us, feeling almost envious of other separated mums – their bravery, their freedom.’
‘Before Derek left, I felt the same way.’
‘What do you think went wrong between you?’
‘One word. Billy.’ She looked at her watch and felt around for the remote control – she didn’t want to miss The X Factor. I told her I’d been following it too.
‘Really? I wanted to ask you something about Billy actually—’
‘Ah no, I don’t really mean that about him,’ she went on, as if she hadn’t heard me. ‘Well, I do and I don’t. We both adored him, still do, but he was an absolute terror when he was little and we were always arguing about the best way to deal with him. Derek was soft on him; I was strict. I mean it was me who was always apologising to other people. He used to bite other kids at creche. He’d be sitting on his own on the naughty seat, looking out the window, every evening when I went to collect him.’
‘There’s nothing worse than collecting your child and feeling them shudder when you hug them because they’ve been crying all day – that’s what Addie was like on Tuesday because I forgot to wave goodbye to her through the window.’
‘Ah the poor little lamb. What I dreaded most was when the teacher would say ‘Can I have a quick word?’. I kept my head down with Billy, just charged in and got him, charged out again, trying to avoid anyone’s eye.’
I wanted to eat my vegetarian dumplings while they were still warm, but it looked too casual to eat while Belinda was opening up to me, so I ignored them until we’d analysed the situation from every angle, at which stage they were greasy and cold. Then we opened the box of Green & Blacks, Belinda threw two more briquettes on the fire and we settled back to watch The X Factor. There was one contestant to go. The audience were on their feet screaming. Out came the dancers, on came the strobe lights, dry ice, special effects.
‘This is a tiny bit awkward, but I did want to have a chat with you about Billy.’
‘Go on,’ she said, not looking at me, tugging at some loose stitching on the armchair.
‘You know the way he has a thing about fire?’
No response. Just a cold-eyed stare.
‘He’s always messing with lighters and matches, isn’t he?’
‘Just spit it out will you, for fuck’s sake, Eve?’
‘Well, obviously I didn’t see him in the act but I think, listen, Belinda, I know, it was Billy who set the tree house on fire. It wasn’t a lantern or anything else, it was Billy. I mean I’m sure he was just messing, experimenting. He did it with one of the lighters he’d been picking up for me. Of course, I know he would never want to hurt anyone—’
‘So you have proof of this, do you, Eve?’
‘No, I just said I didn’t, but it’s clear it was him and I’m only even bringing it up because—’
‘Ah, would you lay off him, Eve. If it hadn’t been for Billy, that lad would be a lot worse off. I’m proud of what he’s done so I am.’
She was out of her seat, clearing the table.
‘You know he’s been given a lot of grief around here and for once—’
‘Well, we’re getting a lot of grief right now,’ I said, standing up to help her; she gestured with her hand for me to sit back down.
‘Addie doesn’t understand why none of the kids in the park want to play with her any more and I’m being ignored by pretty much everyone aside from the youth worker who seems to be observing us very closely.’
She had stacked everything and carried it into the kitchen where she was now rinsing plates with her back to me. ‘Well, you were pretty distracted that evening, weren’t you?’ she shouted in to me. ‘And you left those lighters hanging around, didn’t you? And you did promise Sophie you’d mind Ben.’
‘Jesus, Belinda, that may all be true, but I didn’t start any fire.’
‘That couldn’t be him back yet,’ Belinda said, turning off the running tap and standing still to listen. I hadn’t heard the front door. She passed through the sitting room and went out to the hall. There was some sort of problem, she sounded upset.
Billy was green, eyes closed, leaning back against the wall, a vomit ring around his neck and all down the front
of his new shirt. Belinda was apologising to the Indian taxi driver who had just delivered him home.
‘Thank you, ma’am, I understand, but that will still be twenty Euro for the fare please, and one hundred twenty for soiling my car.’
‘Are you listening to what I’m saying? I haven’t got it. All right?’ Belinda said, scowling at Billy.
‘I cannot work now for three days because of your boy.’
I rooted in my pockets behind her, offered the driver a fifty.
‘Stay out of it, Eve. I’ll look after this. Will you settle for sixty? Please?’
He accepted Belinda’s offer and said, ‘That’s the very last time.’
Belinda stood in front of Billy, who had now moved to the sofa in the sitting room. He was holding his head between his hands and looked like he might vomit again.
‘I think I should maybe head.’ Both of them ignored me.
‘Would you look at the state of you?! You stink. Get out of my sight, will you?’
‘Leave me alone, Mam. I’m not in the mood.’
‘You’re not in the mood—’ She paused. ‘What happened tonight?’
‘You mean what was meant to happen? What was meant to happen was a date.’
‘And?’
‘And she didn’t fuckin’ turn up, the bitch. She forgot or something, who knows, who cares? She doesn’t give me the time of day any more.’
‘Who are we talking about?’
‘Just a girl, Ma. You don’t know her.’ He ran his foot along the carpet, against the grain. Then he flung himself backwards on the sofa and started kicking at his rucksack on the floor in front of him. I could see he’d stuffed some flowers inside. They looked like tulips.
‘She can fuck off, so she can. All she cares about is that floppy-haired dick, and he’s fucking every girl in Bray. What’s an emo freak doing with a poshie like her anyway? He doesn’t give a toss about her.’ He must have been talking about Juliette. Little did he know that she could never have met him, had no intention of it; she’d been at my flat all evening, babysitting. This explained why he’d gone off the rails outside our house that night. He must have seen Dylan with that other girl in the park.
He lurched forward, grabbed his rucksack.
‘I even brought her these,’ he said, pulling out the limp flowers. ‘I was sat in the playground waiting for her for two and a half hours. She told me to meet her there at eight. I had a blanket and the crisps she likes and cans and everything.’
‘You know, I remember following this guy all around the city,’ Belinda said, sitting down beside him, her voice softer. ‘I would sit on the ground outside pubs in the cold all evening waiting for him – I was underage so the doormen wouldn’t let me in – and he’d be inside drinking and snogging and—’
‘Snogging?’ Billy said, laughing at the phrase, ‘Jesus, Mam.’
‘Well, that’s what he was doing. Flirting with other girls and snogging them while I was outside asking the doormen to pass messages to him. And I’d stay there till closing time, till I knew I would see him.’
‘That’s so gay.’
I felt something move underneath me. I leapt off the sofa screaming.
‘Ah, Bad Hair Day, it’s yourself,’ Billy said, lifting the guinea pig. It was easy to see how he got his moniker. He wasn’t the smooth sort you normally get. This one looked like he’d been blasted by a hair dryer, with his brown static fur in all directions. Billy turned him around in his hand to inspect him for damage, then kissed him on the nose.
‘He’s after eating two good-sized holes,’ he said, bending to examine the sofa.
‘Ah Jesus, Billy. I’m only after getting that upholstered.’
‘Must have used the stuffing to make a nest for himself. Now don’t be doing that again, do you hear me?’ he said, dropping him back into his cage.
‘You should have seen you! It was classic,’ he said, laughing at me and doing an impression of my fright. And then, ‘I think I’m going to be sick.’
He stood up from the sofa, went to the kitchen sink. Belinda followed him, waited. He burped a few times. ‘Sorry, false alarm,’ he said, then farted heavily.
She poured him a glass of water, rested her hand on his back. She said something to him in a whisper.
‘No I feckin’ didn’t, OK? Stop asking me, will you?’
‘There’s a child very sick in hospital.’
The sound of more retching into the kitchen sink.
Chapter Twenty-three
‘To your very good health.’
‘Very good health.’
‘Very good health.’
‘Very good health.’
Murmur, Murmur. Clink. Clink, Clink. Bella said something that made the small group of guests around her chuckle. A child shouted. And then, somehow – who saw it? How did it happen? – my mother’s champagne glass slipped out of her hand. It fell onto the drawing room floor and shattered into tiny fragments.
My aunt stepped down from where she’d been standing on the tile border of the fireplace. This was where she traditionally stood to tap her glass for the toast, balancing in a youthful way, to make her taller and to command attention. And all the other women swept into action, children were scooped up and away, furniture was pushed back, a hoover appeared, the lights were turned from dim to full. Mum stood by the drinks cabinet, shaking her head, red-faced, apologising. A few of the men bent on their hunkers and began picking up the shards of glass with their hands, their wives standing over them, cautioning and assisting: ‘There’s another bit there. Oh be careful! Now, I’d hoover the rest.’ The party was paused, some guests shuffled around trying to look helpful; others stood quiet and still.
‘Well, I must say, the tree is magnificent,’ one of the women said, attempting to lift the mood.
‘Yes, I’m delighted with this one. And do you know that it sings?’ my aunt said, grabbing at a branch to get it going. ‘Rather silly, I know. For the children, of course.’ Then she turned to my mother who was still apologising, ‘Oh, don’t worry, Dot, it wasn’t a good one, just one belonging to Bruce’s great-great-grandmother,’ she said and clomped away and down into the kitchen where the hired help – a Mexican brother and sister – were loading the dishwasher. She’d used them before and had found them very good, ‘the boy in particular’.
‘You stupid little man! Haven’t I told you before? Don’t put bone-handled knives in the dishwasher,’ she roared, not quite out of earshot of her guests.
*
The ‘adults’, as we called them and as they happily referred to themselves, no longer enjoyed this party. It was an annual tradition between my parents and their relatives and oldest friends whose own children, flushed and awkward, neither knew each other or got along especially well, but felt obliged to be there, year after year, for the sake of their ageing parents. Rather than heralding Christmas, and what had once for them been two weeks of parties and drunken flirtations, it was now a sad reminder of all that they had lost. Almost all the men had gone or gone to seed, and the last one standing – who everyone, including himself, seemed a little surprised to find still alive – flushed-cheeked, stomach bulging against the belt of his high-waisted flannel trousers, was now so deaf that he only spoke in monologues because he couldn’t hear what the other person was saying but was still determined to get his story told.
So this year, for the first time, the party was made up of women, the not-so-merry widows, with their arthritis, cataracts, hip-replacements, homes too big to live in but impossible to sell, catering, coping, laughing the loud laughs that once were their husbands, resplendent in purples and soft blues. They were now less characters, more caricatures of themselves: the barky, eccentric one, unsteady in heels, even before lunch had been served. The sporty, practical one, with her permanently suntanned legs, comfortable shoes, who had given up dieting, finally accepting her shape. The one with the new teeth that were a definite improvement on the yellow ivories she’d tolerated for so many y
ears but that had yet to settle into her face. They were all here with the things they’d promised to bring: quiches wrapped in cellophane for the tricky vegetarians, a chocolate biscuit pudding for the kids.
It was our generation who supplied the men, but they were a less confident, less cohesive group. One of the husbands feigned a flat tyre because his carpet business was about to be wound up and he didn’t want to handle awkward questions. He’d never liked the party in the first place, found it too stuck up. Another’s partner couldn’t get back from England because of a plane strike. There was much quiet tutting over the cocktail sausages about this (‘Don’t you think he would have come home to see his children? He said the ferry was for students, imagine that?’) The shy one, who wasn’t in fact shy at all but just couldn’t be bothered to talk, was there as always, his silent and sullen presence making everyone uncomfortable; he was the kind of person who had to leave before a party could begin. And then there was the dashing West Brit amateur sailor who’d just come in from the sleet in his Barbour jacket, suntanned skin and thick hair. He examined the females in the room with great discretion, the girls who had become women in the year since he’d last seen them, the ones who’d put on weight, the ones that were looking radiant, all the while keeping his hand on the small of his wife’s back.
*
I was not in party humour. Before we’d set off, I’d seen Ben arrive home. Sophie had held him in her arms, her hand protectively over his head as she’d lifted him out of the car and carried him down the steps to the basement of their house. I’d found and wrapped the snow globe, stuck the card Addie had made for him on top and had run across the square to drop it in, leaving Addie at home playing school with her new imaginary friends, Poppy, and her big sister, Serena. Joy had answered the door, told me Ben was resting. I’d handed her the gift and asked her to give it to him. ‘I don’t think so, dear heart,’ she’d said, handing it straight back to me.