by R J Gould
‘Lucky sod, being the only bloke with all those women around you.’
‘I’m on a course. Those women are my professional colleagues and their gender is hardly the issue.’
‘All right, all right, keep your hair on,’ offered Jack in appeasement, though regretting his comment as he spoke. The man had virtually no hair, just a thin horseshoe of white, completely bald at the crown and forehead. He’d hate to lose his hair like that.
‘May I go now?’ the man shouted above the whirr of the hand drier.
‘Can I ask you something?’
‘You can ask if it’s quick. I want to get back to my group and my lunch.’
‘I got a bit of a problem with me missus. She’s not been talking to me since she saw a photo of me starkers. But I was tricked by me ex, so I think she should drop it and get back to how we was – though by that I mean how we was a while back, not recent when things haven’t been that great. You know, I think it might have all started with her books. Is that possible, too much reading?’
Jack paused in expectation of a reply but none was forthcoming so he continued. ‘And the last thing I want is Lil to turn against me, she’s the young one at our table. A beauty, ain’t she? But don’t you think, when it comes down to it, a man’s got to ’ave some independence.’
‘Look, erm … Mr …’
‘Jack, you can call me Jack.’
‘Jack. I have no idea what your situation is. I can assume you’ve approached me because you know that we’re Relate counsellors. Indeed, my organisation might be able to help you, but certainly not during a five minute chat in a toilet.’
Good, thought Jack, he’s quite posh and he calls it a toilet. How ridiculous when posh hotels called them cloakrooms. You’re hardly gonna leave your coat inside one. Mind you, him saying “indeed” was a bit la-di-da. ‘Sorry, I missed the last bit, what d’you say, mate?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t call me mate. I said that if you are serious about seeking support, I suggest you contact your local Relate office and make an appointment.’
‘But this is an emergency. The way things are we ain’t going to be together long enough for an appointment. She says she’s goin’ to kick me out.’
‘Excuse me. I need to get back to my group and you are blocking the door.’
‘So much for the poster you got up at reception. We’re here to help you find the answers, it says. Well, that’s what I need. Answers.’
‘Step aside,’ the Relate man ordered, his face now very close to Jack’s.
Jack did as requested and the man walked out. All he could do was follow, once again keeping a respectable distance. He joined the others at his table and downed the rest of his pint. The Relate man was now seated, smiling as he talked to a beauty of a redhead sitting to his left. All right for some, thought Jack. One of the waitresses was standing by the door, she was pretty good looking too. He lifted up his empty glass and pointed at it. She nodded and smiled. He appreciated that, the first person to show some pleasantness the whole day. She left the room, he assumed to get him a refill.
Jack looked to his left. ‘Carol.’
No reply.
‘Carol.’
Still no reply. He raised his voice. ‘Carol!’
‘What is it?’
‘Are you gonna drive home because I’m drinking a bit.’
‘We haven’t got a car that works. Remember?’
‘I sorted that,’ Jack said with pride. ‘Asked the barman and he’s got a spare can of oil in his car that we can have.’
‘Well, that’s one thing you’ve done right. First for quite a while, I’d say.’
‘It’ll cost a fiver. Have you got that on you?’
‘I’ll give it to him myself. I’m fed up handing out my money for you to spend.’
‘Suit yourself. But like I said, are you gonna drive home so I can ’ave a couple more drinks?’
‘I’ll drive, it’s my car anyway.’ She looked away. End of conversation.
By the time his pint had arrived the Relate members were preparing to leave the room, still chatting away as noisily as ever as they stood. Henry got up and rushed over to Mrs Sherwood to thank her. They shook hands. Now that there was no distracting buzz of rival conversation an embarrassing silence enveloped the engagement party guests, only broken by the clinking of knives against forks.
The uncomfortable tranquillity was broken by Reginald as he tapped his fork on the table to gain the attention of his imminent audience. He stood. ‘Clarissa has strongly stated that she doesn’t want speeches today, but I’m afraid I must defy her request and say just a few words.’ He had no notes, impromptu addressing was by his reckoning a forte. ‘Firstly, I would like to say what a great pleasure it has been to meet Wayne’s delightful family.’
Bollocks, he doesn’t want to be with the likes of us, Thomas judged. He hasn’t said a single word to me, not even a hello.
‘Clearly we come from rather dissimilar backgrounds, but that hasn’t stopped us sharing this celebration with equal gusto.’
This man is a complete and utter snob, Suzie seethed. What does he really think about my family history?
‘And I’m sure that any difference in upbringing won’t have an adverse effect on this pair’s relationship. They seem perfectly happy together despite the huge difference in social class.’ Clarissa was fuming. He had better stop this very soon.
‘I do feel that I would like to say a little about my wonderful daughter, Clarissa. Unfortunately, I didn’t see much of her as a toddler as I was so busy setting up my business. I left that to my wife, well, ex-wife now, Fiona, over there.’ He pointed. ‘My first vivid memory is when she was about five and we took her skiing at Val d’Isère. Wayne, I would imagine your family haven’t been there, but I can tell you it’s a truly beautiful place. We left her in the nursery class and when we checked if all was well having done a couple of runs ourselves, she was crying her eyes out in a corner with one of the instructors trying to calm her. The instructor was insistent that she hadn’t fallen and it was left to Clarissa to tell us what her problem was. She couldn’t understand what he was saying because of his French. Clarissa, do you remember how I urged you not to give in, to get back in there, to learn by watching?’
Reginald turned sideways to face Clarissa in expectation of a reaction, a comment or a smile. She had turned her back on him. He then looked across to Suzie for support but she was staring at the half-eaten bread roll on her side plate. He returned his gaze to Clarissa’s back and continued.
‘After rather a lot of encouragement, and I think the promise of a present if you persevered, you did return to the class. And at the end of the week you won a medal as the best skier in the group. What wonderful determination and ability.’
Reginald was perplexed, his daughter was refusing to look at him.
‘My next strong memory is not long after the skiing when I saw her perform at her ballet school’s end of term concert. She fell over, the poor thing, and the audience started to laugh. Clarissa started to cry, but then she –’
There was a dramatic swivel on the chair at his side. ‘Dad, will you stop.’
‘I just want to –’
‘Stop now!’
‘If you feel that strongly, Clarissa, but you aren’t the only person in the room. Perhaps Wayne and his family would like to hear a bit about you.’
‘Perhaps they don’t and I certainly don’t.’ Clarissa’s fists were firmly clenched for the second time that day and once again the anger was directed against her father. She took several slow deep breaths, something she had learnt to do at her company’s recent life coaching training session. ‘Look, everyone, let’s take a break from the table, a comfort break or whatever. For a start I’m dying for a fag. Back here at 2.30.’ And with that, a red-faced Clarissa headed for the door at considerable speed, followed swiftly by Wayne.
Lil was the first of the other guests to get up. She took out her camera and began a careful
inspection of the paintings in advance of taking photographs. Margaret and Thomas left the room together, talking earnestly. Jack headed off to the bar. Next, Fiona and Carol walked out of the room, deep in conversation. Henry approached Lil and offered her a potted history of seventeenth and eighteenth-century art which she gladly accepted. Reginald was left at the table with Suzie.
‘Well done, Reginald.’
‘I can’t see what I’ve done wrong.’
‘That’s the problem, you never can. I’m going to find Clarissa.’
So Reginald sat alone for a while before going out to inspect the damage to his hire car.
Suzie found Clarissa and Wayne sitting on black leather bucket seats in the bar area, Clarissa drinking a Tropical Mango Bacardi Breezer out of the bottle and Wayne with a pint of honey-coloured beer.
‘I didn’t know you smoked, Clarissa.’
‘I don’t, not any more. It was the first thing I could think of to get out the room. Sorry I was rude to Dad, but I’d had enough.’ She took a swig of drink then turned back to Suzie. ‘No surprise with this question, what the fuck happened to your neck and arm? You look terrible. And what happened to Dad for that matter, he looks even worse?’
Suzie outlined the recent history of car crashes, arguments, and fights, and the more she spoke the greater her rage against Reginald. ‘He nearly got arrested this morning when he started arguing with the policewoman. Luckily your mum and Henry were in the car to appease her.’
‘He wasn’t much better with the staff here,’ Wayne contributed.
‘You can say that again. It was your mum’s rather odd husband to the rescue once more.’
‘Bloody Henry The Weed. He couldn’t be more different to Dad, could he? To be truthful I don’t know how Mum can live with him, though I must say his problem-solving today was a pleasant surprise.’ Clarissa drank a little more before continuing. ‘Well, at least you and Mum haven’t been at each other’s throats. I was worried about you two meeting. But I need to speak to her, she doesn’t look that happy.’
‘You know, Clarissa, all things considered it’s not going too badly despite the hiccups, the weather, and all the other potential for disaster. Are you enjoying it, Wayne?’
‘Yes, thanks, Suzie, as much as can be expected with such an odd mix of guests.’
Clarissa put her bottle against her lips and tilted it to near vertical to get out the last drops of the rich orange liquid. She placed it back on the table. ‘Wayne’s been worried about this for weeks, haven’t you Wayne? He’s even been dreaming about it. Another hour or so and it will all be over and we can get back to normality. Oh, by the way, Suzie, I haven’t thanked you for the Arcade Fire tickets. It was a great concert. It’s been so hectic, but that isn’t an excuse.’
‘That’s OK, you did thank me on the night. I enjoyed it, too. Heard anything good lately?’ There seemed to be an exact match between Suzie and Clarissa’s musical tastes and they shared new discoveries.
‘As it happens, yes. Noah and the Whale.’
‘I’ve heard of them but haven’t got round to listening. I’ll YouTube … I’ll YouTube them … I’ll YouTube them this, this evening.’ By the end of her short, garbled statement Suzie’s voice had slowed to a barely comprehensible murmur.
‘Suzie, are you OK, you’ve gone as white as a sheet?’ a worried Clarissa enquired.
With cliff edge suddenness Suzie realised. ‘Help, I need a drink.’
‘What is it? OK, start with a drink, what do you want?’
‘One of those, please,’ Suzie said, pointing at the Breezer bottle.
‘I’ll get ’em, you two chat.’
‘Thanks, Wayne.’
Suzie paused to consider how to express herself. Then she began, regaining clarity but still speaking far more slowly than her norm. ‘I have so much more in common with you than your father. We can chat for hours about the bands we like and all I get from him is historical praise for Tom Jones and The Supremes. Nothing’s as good as the old stuff, he says. But it’s not just the music, it’s everything. Like fashion. You and me go on about the latest catwalk stuff while he shops at Austin Reed.’
Clarissa watched Suzie’s eyes well up. A single tear ran down her left cheek. She took hold of her stepmother-to-be’s hand and gently caressed it.
Suzie continued, her pace quickening as she spoke. ‘You name it and there’s an issue. Literature, for instance. You and me laugh at chick lit then have great discussions about literary fiction. He won’t read a novel. We visit art exhibitions but when I get all excited and show Reginald the postcards I’ve bought all I ever get is ‘that isn’t art.’ With Reginald boring business deals are the only thing he’s interested in.’
Now tears were flowing freely. Suzie took a tissue out of her Dior clutch bag and dabbed her eyes. ‘We’re poles apart and I’ve ended up being far more comfortable with his daughter than with him. Sick, isn’t it. I’m much closer to you age wise and that’s part of the reason, I suppose. But there’s also his arrogance. God I’m sorry, Clarissa, it’s not fair talking about him with you. But this week’s been appalling, it’s finally done my head in. Quite literally, I suppose,’ she added pointing to her neck and ending her diatribe with a bitter smile.
Wayne returned with two Breezers and a pint of lager. He was setting them on their table when he heard Suzie state with a tremor in her voice, ‘I’ve decided not to marry him. I’m going to end the relationship.’
Wayne’s beer glass went down with a thump. ‘Jesus, I’ve just been speaking to my mum and your mum. Mine is kicking Jack out as soon as possible and yours is going on about how she doesn’t think she can stay with Henry.’
‘What is going on?’ Clarissa exclaimed. ‘This is meant to be a happy occasion.’
Wayne lifted his beer glass and downed a fair part of the pint. Still holding his glass he turned to Clarissa. ‘You know, actually, it’s funny.’ He started to laugh.
‘Funny, I can’t see what’s funny.’
‘There we were fretting about whether eight parents and stepparents would mix OK today. By the time we get married there’ll probably be sixteen parents, stepparents, ex-stepparents, and their partners to invite.’
‘If we get married.’ She responded to Wayne’s forlorn look with a patronising pat on his shoulder. ‘Only joking, sweetie. I’m going to chat with Mum.’ She glanced at her watch. They were due back in the dining room in a few minutes if they stuck to her timetable.
Suzie was left sitting with Wayne. ‘I hope you two will stay friends with me after I leave Reginald.’
‘We will, Suzie, you are rather a lot nicer to be with than Clarissa’s father.’
Clarissa started the search for her mother in the dining room but only Henry and Lil were in there, standing in front of a painting of a man, woman, two children, and three dogs. The Weed and Thicko Tart were engrossed in conversation, as unlikely a pairing as Clarissa could ever imagine.
Thicko Tart was questioning the extent to which patronage determined the exact nature of eighteenth-century portraiture. ‘So this man would have commissioned the painting of his family, and the dogs if you can consider them part of the family. But how exact would his instructions be, like what everyone should wear, what the background should be?’
‘That depends on the relationship between the patron and the artist,’ The Weed explained, delighted by the naïve enthusiasm and, quite possibly, the brilliance of the youngster by his side. ‘In this case, the artist was well known and probably would have been able to choose his subjects. Having done that, he could say no if he considered the set up inappropriate and the patron might well listen due to the artist’s renown.’
‘Francis Hayman,’ Thicko Tart read on the bottom left-hand corner of the painting. ‘Can’t say I’ve heard of him. He couldn’t have had much say to allow that background. Bright sunlight, crumbling arches, stranded columns. It looks like an English family has been dumped in Ancient Rome.’
‘Well, Ha
yman was well known in his day, this painting is probably worth a small fortune. And as for the background, it was quite common. Rich people embarked on grand tours of the ancient sites in those days and having a backdrop like this indicated their culture and their wealth.’
‘I’m doing a grand tour of New York soon.’
‘Lucky you.’
Fiona and Carol had entered the room and Fiona approached Henry and Lil. ‘Henry, may I have a word with you, please?’
‘Certainly, Fiona.’
‘That was brilliant, it’s given me loads of ideas. Thanks ever so much,’ Lil called out as Henry began the short walk across to Fiona. Carol took his place. She wanted to explain her plans, their plans, for life without Jack.
A few minutes later Fiona and Henry returned and sat at the dining room table, the first of the group to do so. With highly inappropriate shoes and without coats they had walked for a short while in the snow-covered grounds around the hotel. As they did so, the grey mist had disappeared to expose a soft blue winter sky. At the exact moment that the large, low sun broke through, Henry was given a reprieve. Influenced by his decisive actions in the car and at reception, Fiona had weighed up the odds as to whether there might be potential for growth in the man, despite past lack of evidence. Maybe, just maybe, his decision to leave teaching and open the café would be the start of rejuvenation. Even his reaction to her suggestion that they should make an effort to save the marriage marked a change in Henry. None of the soppy, over-fussy, over-elaborate language that had driven her up the wall as of late. Merely a single measured statement. ‘I’d like to make a go of it, too.’ She hadn’t been conscious of when they had held hands but they remained clasped as they re-entered the hotel.
Carol and Lil joined them at the table. Lil whispered something and Carol gave her a gentle shove then they started giggling.
‘There you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you, mother. Where did you get to?’
‘Henry and I have been for a walk, Clarissa.’
Clarissa was very confused. Her mother seemed gushingly happy and she was holding hands with the man she wanted to leave. She sat down and was joined by Suzie and Wayne.