It Always Rains in November

by Richard Hoffman

  Seven years later, here she was again, letting Carly down. Not being honest with her over leaving Gary, keeping secrets about where she was living – why was she such a useless mother? If only she could transfer her auditing ability to parenting skills.

  Fifteen minutes into the journey, Marie had an opportunity to redeem herself when Gemma fell asleep in the back seat. Now she could explain to Carly, and she would treat her like an adult.

  “Carly, are you listening? Carly...take your headphones off.”

  Still no reply, Marie pulled out Carly’s right earphone.

  “What is it, Mum? I was listening to that.”

  “While Gemma’s asleep, I can talk to you properly. I’m sorry that...”

  “You’re always sorry, Mum, but you still...”

  “Just listen to me. While I have the chance.”

  Carly folded her arms and waited.

  “Go on then.”

  “Gary is seeing someone else, and I don’t love him anymore, so we have left. I don’t think he even knows for sure. I left him a note saying that I had to go to your Grandma’s house but we went to the Travelodge.”

  Carly frowned and scratched her head.

  “I don’t get it. Why haven’t you, like, told him you’re leaving? Why haven’t you cut up his clothes and gone mad if he’s with some slag?”

  Marie managed a tight smile.

  “Maybe I don’t care, but maybe I … the truth is, if I don’t tell him, he will do as he pleases. I have hired a private investigator. Hopefully, he’ll catch Gary and his slapper in flagrante…”

  “In what?”

  “In flag… catch them at it, you know what I mean. Then I will start divorce proceedings and to be brutally honest, bleed the bastard dry.”

  “And what about Gemma? How will she feel when she finds out that her Mum is trying to bleed her Daddy dry? Do you think she’ll love you more?”

  Marie applied the brakes, indicated, and pulled over to the kerb. She was hurt by Carly’s remark and wanted to defend herself. She wasn’t prepared to accept being shown to be in the wrong by a twelve year old.

  “You’re just a kid, Carly, when you...”

  For the second time in the afternoon, Carly pigeoned her Mum.

  “You’re full of shit, Mum. Just because you’re a parent, you know best? You know this is bullshit. Gemma will hate your guts when she finds out, just like I...”

  Carly’s voice tailed off. Marie didn’t want to know how the sentence would have finished, but she was forced to admit defeat.

  “I never thought…”

  “You don’t normally, like, think about your daughters when you are leaving your husbands, do you, Mum?”

  Marie sat motionless for a moment. Carly placed her headphones back. Marie went to give her daughter a hug, but the girl pushed her away. Starting the car, Marie began the drive back. For a few minutes there was silence. Then Carly removed her headphones.

  “Tell me, Mum, you’ve moved to the Travelodge near me. Did you ever, like, think, for one minute, about asking me to move me in with you?”

  “It’s a hotel, Carly. I wouldn’t uproot you from home to live in a hotel. I’m not going to be there for long.”

  Carly’s lip turned into a sneer.

  “Whatever, Mum. I don’t give a shit anyway.”

  “Carly, love, please don’t be like this. I...Are you listening to me?”

  Carly had her headphones back on, but she yanked them off again to listen. Marie found it difficult to be affectionate and tactile. She had tried to hug Carly earlier, but had been rejected. Maybe if she could speak from her heart, the words would capture Carly’s conscience. She took a deep breath.

  “I know I keep messing things up, but I love you and Gemma. You two are, you always have been, the most important people in my life. You are my girls and I don’t want to keep hurting you... I’m sorry.”

  “Mum, it’s good words. But that’s all I get from you.”

  “Carly, that isn’t...”

  “I’ve put my headphones back in. So I can’t hear you. But you should have told me about breaking up with Gary, and asked me to move in with you and Gemma. You’re only saying sorry now coz Gemma told me.”

  “No, Carly, that isn’t...”

  She stopped because Carly’s eyes were closed and she was singing “Under my umbrella...ella...ella.”

  There was no further conversation.Half an hour later, Marie drew up outside Carl’s house. Gemma was still asleep in the back. Carly got out the car, walked into her house and slammed the front door. She never said goodbye or looked back. Marie watched until her elder daughter was safely inside. She turned round to the sleeping child in the back seat.

  “Well, poppet, your Mummy’s fucked up again. Let’s hope I don’t let you down as much.”

  * * *

  The local pub, The Mitre, was Carl’s usual haunt on a Sunday evening. The landlord was a keen fisherman and photos of his various catches adorned the walls, together with a stuffed bream hanging from the rafters. He didn’t take as much pride in the decor though. The beige walls were overdue a coat of paint, and the red carpet was worn and torn. Still, the pub was within walking distance and stocked a number of real ales. Carl was there tonight with his brother, Frank, and his mate Colin. Colin was OK and although the relationship with Frank, three years his senior, was amicable, Carl did not like him much. In truth, there was an element of jealousy.

  Frank boasted about his Caribbean holidays, chiding his younger brother for not keeping his wife. Two of his three kids were University bound, with the third being good enough to play football for Surrey boys. In all areas of life, Frank was superior to Carl. As boys, Carl had felt that he was the less favoured son, and, being older and stronger, Frank’s superiority was maintained whenever the boys argued or fought.

  Frank was a journalist. Early on in his career he had made up some outrageous stories, such as the local woman who was possessed by Florence Nightingale, who had a nervous breakdown two weeks after Frank published her story; or the eight year old local lad set to be the next Wayne Rooney, but who turned to crime after Frank’s local press lost interest and was now in a juvenile detention centre. Frank had risen through the ranks until he edited and owned the local Croydon paper. He always had stories about his most recent scoops and local celebrities he had met.

  Chatting about football over a couple of pints was always good, though. Frank knew the local Championship side’s manager and most of the players. Carl had been a decent footballer in his youth. He had played for Whyteleafe before they kept making him sub. He had given up when he was 26, to spend more time with his wife and daughter. It had not exactly worked.

  After two pints, Carl decided to go home. He had bridges to build and fences to mend with his daughter, and had no wish to arrive home pissed.

  He had just put the kettle on when Carly arrived home. He was determined to be nice to her. As soon as she walked in the door, he greeted her.

  “Hi, Carly. Did you have a good time with your mum?”

  Her expression was not that of someone who had enjoyed her day. No smile and it looked like she might have been crying. Her reply wasn’t encouraging either.

  “Don’t pretend to be, like, nice, Dad. Ask what you want to know.”

  “I didn’t… I wasn’t…I’m making tea, do you...?”

  “Not everything’s about you, Dad. But don’t worry, I didn’t tell Mum that you’re a child beater.”

  Carly started to walk up the stairs. Carl’s hope that they would sit down in the living room and discuss their differences over a cup of tea, dissipated. He made a final attempt and called after her.

  “I made a mistake. I’m sorry. But you do...”

  “Yeah, that’s it. It was my fault. Isn’t everything?”

  “That’s not what I...”

  Carl stopped as heard her bedroom door slam shut. He started up the stairs, but Carly shout
ed at him through the closed door.

  “Dad, I’m going to bed. Don’t dare come in my room. Goodnight.”

  Carl went back downstairs, feeling sorry for his daughter. She had been looking forward to the day out, but tonight, like so many other nights, she was sitting in her bedroom, miserable and alone. It must be his fault. He would make things up to her...somehow.

  Chapter 12

  Monday November 8th @ Crouts

  Marion was the first of the accounts staff to arrive at work. She was surprised to find Martin already in at 8 a.m. He beckoned her to his office.

  “I’ve drafted an agenda for a meeting I’ve got this morning. If I email it to you, could you tart it up, make it look good, and get it back to me pronto?”

  “Yes, of course, Martin, no problem.”

  Martin wriggled in his seat.

  “What time do Carl and Janice get in?”

  “Around 8.45, I think.”

  “What, at the same time, together?”

  Marion shook her head “No, not together.” Marion was a nice lady, efficient and capable at her job. She was also discreet. Unfortunately, she had a habit of blushing when under stress.

  “Come on, Marion, you’ve gone red. Are you covering up for them? Does he fancy her? Does she fancy him?”

  Marion recoiled at Martin’s insensivity.

  “I don’t know anything, Martin. If you want to know about any office gossip concerning Carl and Janice, I suggest you ask them.”

  Martin started laughing “I guess they deserve each other.”

  Marion swallowed hard. “I’ll go and sort out that agenda for you.”

  Martin was still grinning and undoubtedly planning how to cause maximum embarrassment, when the phone rang. It was Jeffrey Parker. Marion stayed in his office as she hadn’t been ushered out. The phone was on loudspeaker.

  “This meeting, with Marie, the auditor, make sure you have all the information we promised her. I’ve got Horton from IT coming as well and I want all points covered so she can hit the ground running.”

  “Of course, yes, I’ll have full details Jeffrey; see you over at your office at 9.”

  Martin replaced the receiver. Marion noticed that he wasn’t grinning now.

  * * *

  Carl and Janice did arrive more or less at the same time, both at just before 8.45. They both noticed Martin working in his office and both were equally surprised.

  Janice had been thinking about her plan to ask Carl out. Seeing Martin Miller in so early wasn’t going to help. Less opportunity to have a chat with Marion and Carl.

  “How come he’s in so early, Marion?”

  “No idea.”

  “Are you OK, Marion? You look a bit uneasy.”

  “No, I’m fine, but whilst you’re both here, I think I may have put my foot in it.”

  Before she had a chance to explain Martin had looked up from his office and was standing by their workstation area.

  “Good morning, Carl, Janice…or should I say afternoon? You have 15 minutes to prepare this lot for me.” He gave Carl and Janice a list of instructions.

  “See if you can do the lot in quarter of an hour, so no holding hands or playing footsie under the table – and definitely no kissing. I don’t want to be throwing up before my meeting.”

  Janice glared at Marion. How could she tell anyone, but especially him? She didn’t want to look at Carl who was inevitably puzzled.

  “What’s he on about?”

  Janice felt the blood leave her face. Carl repeated his question.

  “What’s going on, what did he mean?”

  Janice couldn’t reply, and stared straight ahead at Marion. She was waiting from some assistance from her friend, or rather, her ex friend. It never came, because before the ladies could answer Carl, Martin was shouting at them from his office

  “Only 10 minutes, people, I need this work finished by nine.”

  * * *

  Marie and Louis had also arrived early this morning. Marie sent her assistant to do some photocopying, whilst she went straight to their basement office. As she opened the door she recoiled from a distinctly fishy smell. She wondered if ghosts smell of fish as she entered the office gingerly. Having satisfied herself that there was no lurking spectre, she soon located the source. The windowless office hadn’t been cleaned since Friday, and the half eaten tuna sandwich that Louis had left in the bin was adding an unpleasant aroma to the cramped office.

  Louis returned carrying a sheaf of papers.

  “I’ve done 6 copies of our requests.” He stopped and sniffed. “Can you smell something in here?”

  “It’s the smell of a ghost, Louis. It’s been on your PC.”

  “No shit, Marie. I’m not staying here if...”

  Marie laughed, relieved that she was not the only one daft enough to believe in ghosts.

  She began going through a checklist, ensuring that she and Louis were fully prepared for the audit meeting, but then allowed herself to drift back to the day before and what a mess she had made of dealing with Carly.

  “You haven’t been to the finance department yet, have you, Marie?” Louis asked.

  “Why, am I missing something?”

  “Not really, but I popped up there earlier...”

  “And...?”

  “Just that the three supervisors all sit together and they were really helpful when I went up there.”

  “Probably all fancy you.”

  “One of them’s a bloke, so hopefully not all.”

  “We could do with some friendly faces this audit. If we have to do everything through those two arseholes, Parker and Miller, it will make this job painful.”

  “You can use your charm on the bloke. He’s about your age.”

  Marie laughed. “OK, Louis, if he is not fit and older than thirty, I’m going to fire you on the spot.”

  It was almost nine o’clock. She and Louis picked up their papers and made their way to Jeffrey Parker’s office.

  Chapter 13

  Monday November 8th @ Nathan’s

  Nathan heard his mum leaving for work and was up immediately afterwards. In his rush, he slipped on the dirty boxers he had left on the floor. He took them downstairs and left them by the washing machine for his mum. Then back upstairs and straight on to his mobile, texting Kelly to make sure that she had bunked school. He had persuaded his Mum to buy him a double bed a year ago, so he was well set up for Kelly’s visit. He pulled the duvet back and folded it straight, hoping she might be impressed by his neatness. Noticing a stain on the sheet, he considered re-making the bed. He smelled it to determine whether it would put her off. No smell, but still a stain. He took a bottle of Joop anti-perspirant and sprayed it all over the bedroom. She’d be OK with the stain being Joop. He didn’t think it was...just then his mobile rang.

  Nathan arranged to meet Kelly at Waddon Park at ten. She was quite buff and had a reputation for being a bit of a slag, so for Nathan, a perfect girl. He was definitely going to mash the gash today, at least half a dozen times if he got lucky.

  Kelly was already there when he arrived. The park was deserted, as it normally is in November. Too cold and it was a school day. Kelly was sat on a seat that had been donated by a pensioner whose husband had won £2,500 on the lottery, but died of a heart attack four days later. Nathan knew the old farts. Lived in the next road to him. Day after they won, Nathan saw the old bloke in the street and asked him for a tenner. Mean old git only gave him £1. Nathan remembered calling him a tight cunt. Hopefully Kelly wouldn’t be. She looked proper fit. He sat down next to her.

  “Hi, Kel. Y’alright?”

  There was no space between them. Nathan regarded it as a good sign that she let him be so close this early on.

  “Good. Yeah. Thanks Nath. ‘Cept for my Mum...”

  “Tell me about it. Mine’s a fuck...”

  “She’s got this new bloke, Dave, his name is. Keeps beggin’ it wiv me. Prop
er pervert. It’s wrong, Nath. I hate the bastard. But my ...”

  “He’s tried to have it with you?”

  “Nah, fuckoff, Nath. What do you take me for? I’d kill the fat old cunt if he touched me. But my mum, right, she ain’t never taking my side against Dave. He has a pop at me and she...”

  “Do they know you’ve bunked?”

  “Probably haven’t even noticed. They’re usually too pissed or stoned. Look at this.”

  Kelly lifted up her top showing Nathan a blue and purple bruise on her back.

  “Shit! Looks nasty.” Nathan grimaced, but touched the bruise.

  Kelly pulled away and tugged her top back down.

  “What you doin’, Nath. Fuckin’ hurts. Don’t touch it.”

  “I’ll get my boys round your place to sort him out for...”

  “Wasn’t him. That was my mum yesterday. Hit me for smoking. While she’s doped up.”

  “I could get my boys...” Nathan smiled and Kelly laughed. He was pleased she was smiling at last. It had been a bit heavy. Nathan knew Kelly’s mum was a bitch, but he didn’t realise how bad she was. He always felt like he’d been fucked over – no dad, no money, no brothers or sisters. But listening to Kelly made him think he was lucky.

  Kelly shivered. She didn’t have a coat on. Nathan stood up and took her hand. He had been thinking about doing her on the park bench, but it felt wrong to do it outside when she was cold and bruised.

  “We can’t sit here all day, Kel, too cold.”

  “What do you wanna do?”

  “My mum’s at work, we could go back to my place. Put on some music and stuff.”

  “Yeah sure, let’s go.”

  They began walking, in silence at first, and then it started raining.

  “Shit weather. It always rains in November,” Nathan moaned.

  He put his arm round her and was pleased that she did likewise. He knew he was in, the way she looked at him and he wanted to make her smile or laugh again.

  “I had a dream last night. I was on this, kind of, island, me and all these women. Jordan was there and Jodie Marsh, and that one from Hollyoaks who’s always on reality programmes and Stacey from Eastenders. And there’s just me and them ...”