by Peter Turner
‘Okay, I’ll see what I can do.’
‘Peter,’ Jessie whispered from the bottom of the stairs as I was about to go into the middle room. ‘Don’t go in there. Not just yet. The doctor doesn’t want to be disturbed. Come down. I’ve made a pot of tea.’
Reluctantly I followed Jessie to the kitchen.
‘What’s going on? What’s happened to Gloria? Why didn’t you wake me up?’
‘Nothing’s happened. Everything’s still the same.’ Jessie pulled up the flaps of a carton of milk, only from the wrong end. ‘Oh look what I’ve gone and done,’ she said and wiped away the splash. ‘It’s just that the doctor came round again to visit Gloria and we didn’t think to wake you. Anyway, we thought you needed the sleep.’
‘How long has he been here?’ I asked.
‘Oh, not long. It can’t be more than half an hour. Don’t be so agitated. Sit down and have a drink of tea.’
I sat on the edge of a chair and leant my elbows on the table.
‘Oh, I forgot,’ Jessie said. ‘You like a mug, don’t you? I’ve gone and poured a cup.’
‘That doesn’t matter, I don’t care what I have.’
The electric bulb, hanging from the ceiling in a plastic shade, threw out a dull white light. Carrier bags stuffed with sheets and towels, and a bundle of clothes on the floor in the corner, were waiting to go to the launderette. The sink was piled with dishes, mostly cups and saucers, needing to be washed. The room looked miserable, I thought.
‘Everything’s a bit of a mess,’ I said.
‘Now, eh.’ Jessie pointed at me with a spoon. ‘I’ve been awake all night and your mother’s been up since five. Joe hasn’t slept much either but he’s had to go and see how things are at work. We’re all a bit tired to say the least. Anyway, you look a bit of a mess yourself. If I was you I’d have a bath.’
‘You’re right. I think that’s what I’ll do.’
Jessie was standing with her coat on when I returned from taking my bath. My mother was sitting with her head down, one hand holding her forehead, the other clutching an airmail letter. Their conversation faded as I entered the room.
‘It’ll be all right.’ I heard Jessie murmur. Then she turned to me and said, ‘Your mother’s got word from Billy in Australia. It’s about the final arrangements.’
‘That’s good, isn’t it?’ I smiled across at my mother. ‘At last you’re definitely going.’
‘I’m saying nothing,’ my mother announced and put the letter behind the clock. ‘Not until everything’s been sorted out in this house. I’ve waited sixteen years to go on this holiday! I’ve waited sixteen years to see my son! All this has put the mockers on the lot. Now I won’t be going anywhere.’
‘Of course you will. Gloria’s sister will be getting here soon. She’ll help to work things out.’
‘Let’s see her get here first. If it was my sister I would have been here from the start.’
She started sorting through the bundle of clothes on the floor, separating the coloureds into a black plastic bag.
‘The doctor’s just gone. We couldn’t call you because you were in the bath.’ Jessie attempted to change the subject. ‘But he’s coming back later today.’
‘What did he have to say?’ I asked.
‘I’ll tell you what he had to say.’ My mother stood up and dropped the black plastic bag to the floor. Surrounded by dirty clothes, she stood indomitable in the centre of the room. ‘He’s never known anything like it in his life! Hollywood’s got nothing on this,’ she cried and threw her hands in the air. ‘I feel as though I’m living in a picture – and I’ve got the lousy part.’ She hauled up the black plastic bag with one arm and started up the steps to the hall. ‘I’m going round to the washhouse. I’ve had enough of this place for today.’
‘I’ll follow you on,’ Jessie said. ‘I’ll bring the other bags.’
‘Will you do something for me, Son?’ My mother paused at the top of the steps and looked me clear in the eye. ‘I want you to phone Billy and tell him I won’t be coming.’
‘I think that you were right, Peter,’ Jessie said as my mother left the house. ‘This is a terrible mess. You’d better phone Gloria’s sister in California to find out when she’ll arrive.’
‘It’s early morning there. Anyway, she’s promised to call me back.’
‘What’s wrong with you? Worrying about waking people up, while we’re all going demented.’ She picked up the rest of the washing. ‘And I don’t think you should go up to Gloria because she needs to be left alone. The doctor says she needs to be kept quiet and not get too excited. She’s losing all her body fluids. There’s nothing you can do.’
Jessie followed after my mother, leaving me alone.
The most practical thing I could do for the moment, I thought, was to wash the dirty dishes. So I started with the cups. While my hands were immersed in hot water and my head was bent over the sink, I sensed that someone was looking at me. I peered out of the window across towards the tree and saw my father in the garden, halfway along the cement path he’d laid, and with one arm holding on to the washing line which my mother had strung above it. He stood there motionless, staring, watching me watching him.
‘What are you doing out there?’ I asked as I opened the back door. ‘It’s cold. Why don’t you come inside?’
‘Oh, don’t mind me,’ he replied. ‘I’m just passing away the time.’
Pre-occupied, he didn’t look at me while we spoke. His eyes still focused on the kitchen window.
‘What are you looking at?’
‘Your ma,’ he said. ‘I’m trying to see your ma.’
‘She’s not in here. She’s just gone around to the launderette.’
‘You don’t say.’ He slowly rubbed his hands together as if making a major decision. ‘ ’E’ y’are,’ he said. ‘Come and give me a hand with this.’
A smile spread across his face and, showing no sign of his seventy-four years, he darted along the path and disappeared around the side of the house.
‘I found this along the street,’ he said when I joined him by the bins. ‘It was lying on its side in front of an empty house. Somebody must have thrown it away.’
‘It’s a bit big,’ I said. ‘And me mam will go mad if you bring anything else into the house. She’s only just got rid of that fish tank you found.’
‘Ah, well, that’s because the goldfish died on account of the rusty frame, and she doesn’t like to see anything dead. But look at this. Isn’t it a smasher?’
Sitting on top of the kennel which Candy never used was a very old-fashioned television. About four foot high in a dark wooden frame, it had a knob at either side and a green tinted screen.
‘What are you going to do with this?’ I laughed. ‘It can’t be any good.’
‘Grab hold of that end,’ he said. ‘Let’s take it down to the stores.’
The stores, my father’s den in the cellar, is where he keeps his junk – a fascinating collection of useless discarded objects. While he fiddled about with the television trying to make it work, I took the opportunity to have a look around.
Some things I remembered from different times in my childhood, while others, probably picked up on his wanderings about the streets, were new to me. In a corner was a lawn mower which I’d never seen before. Next to it was ‘the roller’ which my father invented when I was at school. I helped him fill the empty oil barrel with concrete and watched while, somehow, he attached to it the handle bars from a broken down old bike. Meant to flatten the soil after the garden had been turned over, it was never a success because it was too heavy to push about.
At the far end were shelves lined with paint tins, boxes and jars containing screws, nuts, bolts and a variety of used nails. Lots of bits of clocks, waiting to be put together, were scattered over a table in the middle of the room. A tea chest marked ‘Shoes’ and another marked ‘Toys’ were stacked against the wall. Another with ‘Records’ clearly written on the top cont
ained only a handful of dusty books.
Hanging from a gas pipe in the ceiling was a lampshade called ‘Niagara’ which an uncle brought home from sea. At one time it revolved around a bulb, illuminating an endless running stream.
‘I don’t know why you hoard all this crap. It should all be thrown away.’
‘Just pass me that torch,’ he said. ‘It’s on the shelf above your head.’
In his cap, lying beside him on the floor, was an odd assortment of tools. He’d taken the cover off the back of the played-out television, and with a screwdriver was poking about inside.
‘What are you trying to do? You’ll never get it to work.’
‘I wouldn’t be too sure about that,’ he said, and gave me a word of advice: ‘If you can get a light on at the back then you know you’re in with a chance. All you need is a spark.’
Just then I heard the telephone ringing, so I dashed to the staircase which leads up to the hall. Candy, who followed behind, got stuck around my feet. Not understanding the reason for my impatience, she scrambled behind a table then ran back down to my dad.
‘Hello!’ I shouted through the squeaks and crackles of a transatlantic delay. ‘Is that Joy?’
‘Oh my God. Are you all right?’
‘Yes,’ I answered through the echo.
‘You sound in distress.’
‘I’m out of breath,’ I told her. ‘I’ve been down in the stores.’
‘Oh that’s awful,’ she said. ‘But listen, I have bad news for you. I can’t come. I can’t come to London.’
Throughout the explaining and regretting I stood gazing out of the window wondering what on earth I was to do. The only person who I thought might have any real practical influence over Gloria’s immediate fate, her sister Joy, was now telling me that she couldn’t come to England. My mother would find it hard to understand that Joy, who was a Canadian citizen, was worried about leaving America in case she was never allowed to return. Joy’s worries were quite genuine but I knew my mother would think it a lame excuse, part of an absurd plot designed to prevent her from going to Australia, an event she’d planned and dreamed about for sixteen years. How could she comprehend? Why should she? I was caught between two strong and powerful women: one on the point of going to the other side of the world, the other on the verge of leaving it.
‘I’m trying to contact my father, Peter,’ Paulette’s voice suddenly broke in. ‘I need to get some money from him and then I’m flying to England. My brother might come with me. I just want to be with Mom as soon as possible. Tell her I love her and I miss her. I just have to get the air ticket from my father. He’s in New York right now. I have to find out his hotel.’
While Paulette gave me messages to pass on to her mother, my attention was drawn to the view outside on the street. Joe, Jessie and my mother were standing talking at the gate. When I saw them marching up the path I hurriedly brought the conversation to a close, and prepared myself to break the latest news.
‘What are you going to have? Sausages and bacon or just bacon with your egg?’
I spied through the crack of the open door to try and judge the mood in the kitchen.
Thoughtfully, Joe looked up from his newspaper, while Jessie poured the tea.
‘I’m not sure if I fancy an egg,’ he said.
‘Oh, I’ve cracked it now.’ My mother stood over the frying pan holding on to a broken shell. ‘Someone will have to have the egg.’
‘I’ll have it,’ I said, realizing this was the moment to join them, and sat opposite my brother at the table.
‘Well, I haven’t seen you eat since Monday.’ My mother threw a glance in my direction. ‘I’m glad. I’ll fry you a few sausages as well.’
I smiled to show my enthusiasm but I wasn’t in the least bit hungry.
‘They’re good those sausages from Tesco’s,’ Jessie said as she unpacked the rest of the groceries. ‘I always keep a few packets in the freezer.’
‘That’s what I’m after.’ My mother wiped the hair from the side of her face. ‘One of those fridge-freezers. But look at me. I’m seventy years of age and I haven’t even got an electric kettle!’
‘You didn’t take long at the launderette,’ I said, trying to keep the conversation chatty.
‘We left it in for a service,’ Jessie explained. ‘It’s only thirty pence. I wanted to be here for Joe, and your mother’s got a pain in her back.’
‘A pain in the back’ I knew to be a serious subject so I diverted the attention to the dog.
‘Candy. Come on, Candy,’ I called.
‘Oh eh,’ Joe said and protected his bacon butty. ‘Do we have to have the dog around the table?’
Candy hung her head and wedged herself under my chair. Joe went back to his food, Jessie put the shopping into the larder and my mother stood over the stove. Except for the sausages sizzling away in the pan, the room was silent. On the surface, the tension had relaxed but, for me, the pressure was mounting. I had to explain to my mother that Joy wasn’t able to come. To upset her any further was more than I could bear.
‘Has that dog been fed?’ she inquired as she put the sausages and egg before me.
Candy, wearing a look that undoubtedly said ‘No’, dragged herself up from the floor and wagged over to her bowl.
‘Everything’s left to me,’ my mother sighed as she knelt to get the dog food from its place beneath the sink. ‘This should be a job for your father.’ As she opened the cupboard the door fell off its hinge. ‘Oh I’m sick of it. I am. I’m bloody sick of it.’ She pulled away the broken door and threw it on the floor. ‘Another man wouldn’t let me suffer like this. He doesn’t give a shite. I don’t know what possessed me to marry him.’
‘It’s a bit late to wonder about that,’ Joe tried to make her laugh. ‘You’ve been married for fifty years. That’s why you’re going to Australia.’
‘Now that’s where you’re wrong.’ She turned on Joe and emphasized each word with the point of her finger. The movement of her hands and shoulders suggested all her feeling. There was a definite change of mood. ‘I won’t be going anywhere. I’m going to call the whole thing off.’
‘Now that’s not right. It’s not right on them, they’ve made arrangements for you to be there. You can’t tell them the week before you’re supposed to go that you won’t be coming. Anyway, I don’t believe you,’ he said. ‘I don’t believe that you don’t want to go.’
‘Look, Joe. I know. You’re right. You don’t have to tell me nothing. I just want you all to listen to me for a change. I’m the mother of this house. It’s about time that I got to be a bit more integrated with what’s happening here.’ She paused to collect her thoughts, then took her place at the head of the table. She spoke in sombre tones. ‘I wouldn’t go away and leave a dying woman in one of my bedrooms. My conscience wouldn’t allow me to do a thing like that. Gloria is critically ill and I don’t understand why nobody seems to want to do a thing about it. She’s just left upstairs to fade and I think that’s a disgrace.’
‘I agree with you, Mother. You’re absolutely right. Gloria’s about to die. She’s refused to go to a hospital, she doesn’t even want the doctor, but she is, so we’ve been told, going into a coma. So when that happens we’ll just have to . . .’
‘Oh stop it, Joe. Stop it. All of you just stop it.’ Jessie sat down tearful at the table. ‘I don’t like to hear you all talking about Gloria like that.’
‘There’s no other way we can talk, love. I think it’s tragic. I think it’s horrible and I think it’s awful, but that’s the situation. Very soon it will all be over. Until then we’ve got to try and be practical. Peter,’ he turned to me. ‘What about her sister? When will she arrive?’
I looked down at my egg and then I broke the yolk.
‘She can’t come,’ I said. ‘Joy phoned to say she can’t come.’
It took about three or four seconds for the information to be absorbed, then my mother pulled her hands to her head and let out a ter
rible moan.
‘That’s it! THAT IS JUST ABOUT IT! I’m going to phone that sister right now. It won’t take me five minutes to hand out my medical bulletin. Why won’t nobody realize that that woman upstairs is dying? I’m going to phone America!’
‘Paulette’s coming instead,’ I weakly tried to explain.
‘When?’ my mother demanded. ‘When? Tell me when.’
‘When she gets the air fare from her dad.’
‘That’s enough! Now I’ve had enough!’ The chair was pushed aside as my mother threw herself up from the table. The sugar bowl crashed to the floor and shattered into pieces. ‘I’m going to phone for the ambulance,’ she shouted. ‘I’m taking poor Gloria to the hospital now!’
Hysteria suddenly exploded. Joe blocked my mother’s path as she lunged across the room, and Jessie got squashed between. Candy ran around in circles and barked at the top of her voice. Pandemonium let loose. The kitchen was in uproar as Gloria appeared from the hall.
The horror of the moment suspended all reality. It was as if we were turned to stone.
Wraith-like, in a long white nightdress and with her hair hanging limp around her face, she looked bewilderedly about the room. She struggled to control her breath and speak. When she did, a calm descended. Gloria was serene.
‘Look at me. I’m not sick. I’m not gonna die.’ She appealed to each of us in turn. ‘Why are you talking about me? I can hear you through the floor.’
‘Oh Gloria, love,’ my mother said, all the anger had melted away. ‘Let Peter help you to the warm.’
‘She’s a star! She’s a movie star! Take her out the back way. She can’t be seen drunk!’
We were deaf to our host the night we were high on champagne. Because of eager photographers waiting at the door, we were advised to leave the party without being noticed.
Proud and defiant, we held each other tight and slowly groped and picked our way up the steep flight of stairs until we reached the top. Gloria was determined to leave the party the same way as she came.