Mimi and the Blue Slave

by Catherine Bateson

  It sounded strange.

  I was desperate for skinny jeans. Angel had been on and on at me in the playground. Finally she’d called me a loser.

  ‘You’re such a loser, Mimi. As if you’re ever going to get skinny jeans.’

  I hated being called a loser almost more than anything else.

  ‘I am so, Angel. You’ll see – next Thursday, free dress day. I’ll be wearing them.’

  So I had to have them.

  It’s so last century, Ableth drawled.

  Skinny jeans? Everyone’s wearing them this summer.

  Calling people. Everyone’s texting this summer.

  Ableth had a point. It was easier to write than to ring. Unless of course you were trying to write an essay on your family. I shoved that thought from my mind and started to write a text.

  Hi, I wrote, it’s Mimi here, using Lou’s phone. Mum’s not feeling great and I wanted to ask a favour. I know you hardly know me but this is a bit urgent.

  I pressed send before I could have second thoughts. I knew that not everyone would regard skinny jeans as urgent but I thought Edie might.

  I’d hardly poured out a cup of tea for Mum when the mobile rang.

  ‘Hey, Mimi. I’ve been trying to get on to your Mum. What’s happening?’

  ‘She’s taken to her bed in despair,’ I said, remembering Guy’s words. ‘But it’s okay because Guy says she’s just mourning.’

  ‘That’s terrible, Mimi. What about the shop?’

  ‘She opens that for four hours every day and then goes back to bed, more or less. Everything’s fine. Guy – he’s an old family friend – and I are going to the auctions. To get more stock. But the thing is, I really need a pair of skinny jeans.’

  There was silence.

  ‘Okay, Mimi. What I’m hearing is that your Mum is barely keeping the shop open. That you and an old family friend are going to make sure the stock’s kept up so you don’t go broke, and that you urgently need skinny jeans?’

  ‘Pale blue skinny jeans. Mum said I could have them and then she got despairing and I told this girl at school about them and anyway, I really want them and then Angel, the girl, called me a loser. I can’t stand being called a loser and Mum said if I managed to find a way to get them without her that was fine. I’m thinking about a dog, too, actually.’

  ‘Blue skinny jeans and a dog?’

  ‘Well, the jeans first. But a dog would be good. Mum said that, too, after that kid in the shed.’

  ‘Okay,’ Edie said calmly, ‘okay. When do you want me to pick you up? I’ve got a day off today.’

  ‘I have to go to school,’ I said. ‘Unless you think I could have a day off too?’ The family essay was due but I didn’t feel I should mention that to Edie.

  There was a longer pause.

  ‘So I’m assuming this has been going on since the Drew boy in the shed?’

  ‘Yeah. Pretty much.’

  ‘You’ve both been eating, though? I mean, I shouldn’t be calling any authorities or anything?’

  ‘Authorities?’

  ‘You know, people to come and help. Official people?’

  ‘We’ve been eating. We’re getting noodles from Wok Off and tomato soup and toast and stuff.’

  ‘Okay. Would your mum talk to me?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Edie. Not that she doesn’t want to. She really wanted you to be her friend but she’s just ... you know.’

  ‘I think I do know,’ Edie said. ‘I think you could probably take a day off school, Mimi. I’ll come round, okay. We could have a bit of a girls’ day together.’

  ‘Thanks so much. I know you don’t really know me or anything but I’m eternally grateful, Edie. Honest.’

  ‘Don’t be eternally grateful until we manage to track down skinny jeans!’ Edie said. ‘And they’d want to be the perfect pair for eternal gratitude! See you in half an hour.’

  I went upstairs carefully with Mum’s tea and pulled up the blinds so the spring sunshine flooded the room. Mum smiled wanly up at me.

  ‘Is it morning already?’ she said. ‘Good heavens.’

  ‘Mum, I’m not going to school today.’

  ‘Are you sick, Mimi?’

  For a moment she sounded just like undespairing Mum, her voice stronger and less faded. She put a hand out to touch my forehead, just the way she used to.

  ‘No, I’m not sick.’

  ‘You’re not running a temperature. Do you have a headache?’

  ‘No. It’s nothing like that. I’ve rung Edie.’

  ‘Mimi! I can’t talk to anyone.’

  ‘You can. You’re talking to me. You mean you don’t want to talk. That’s fine, Mum. But I need skinny jeans and you said if I could find a way of getting them without you, that would be okay. So I’m going shopping with Edie.’

  ‘And missing school?’ Mum’s voice had faded again and she sounded uncertain.

  ‘Just this once. Edie said it would be okay. She’s coming round to pick me up.’

  ‘I don’t know, Mimi.’ Mum raised herself up on her pillows. ‘Do you think that’s a good idea?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said firmly. ‘I think it’s a great idea. Edie’s sure to know where to get skinny jeans. You like her. She invited us to dinner even though we didn’t go. When you get out of bed, you’ll want her to be your friend, won’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ Mum slumped back down on the pillows. ‘When I get out of bed.’

  ‘Mum, you do think you’ll get out of bed? That things will go back to normal?’

  Mum sighed. ‘I’m so sorry, Mimi,’ she said eventually. ‘I know this is terrible and I probably should ring Aunty Ann and you should go and stay with her and lead a normal life. It’s just that I can’t bear to let you go, but I can’t be a good mother at the moment either.’

  ‘It’s okay. So long as you do get better.’

  ‘I’ll get better. I think. It’s just the shop wears me out. Without your father. It all just got hard all of a sudden. I should go and see a doctor, but I think of the waiting room. The sadness.’

  I knew what she meant. I hated doctors’ waiting rooms, too. There was always a snivelly baby and a couple of people so old you wondered how they’d managed to get there. You never knew which doctor you’d get in to see.

  ‘Guy said you’d get better,’ I told her. ‘He said you’ll be fine.’

  ‘Guy’s a rock,’ Mum said. ‘If you get my wallet, I’ll give you some money. Say hello to Edie for me – she doesn’t need to come all the way up here. Tell her I have a migraine. You’re very brave, Mimi. You know I love you with all my heart. You’re the only thing that’s...’ She broke off and buried her head in the pillow. I patted her shoulder for a little while before I got her wallet.

  I had no hope of stopping Edie from coming upstairs. She bustled into the kitchen and made Mum a fresh cup of tea. It was herbal, but unlike Aunty Marita’s it smelt lemony and gingery. She put this on a tray with some toasted fruit bread that she spread with goat’s cheese.

  ‘Invalid food,’ she said to me. ‘But we can have some, too.’ She cut the toast into little triangles. ‘It’s easier to eat small food when you don’t feel hungry.’

  ‘Are you a nurse?’

  Edie shook her head and laughed. ‘My mum was sick a lot,’ she said. ‘I learnt all this when I was only a little older than you.’ She was wearing cut-off jeans and a T-shirt with a picture of Einstein on it. Underneath Einstein’s face it read, ‘Imagination is 90% of everything’. Her hair was in two little bunches on the top of her head. I wondered if I should get cut-off jeans, instead of skinny jeans. I followed her up the stairs.

  Edie knocked on Mum’s open door. ‘Hey, Lou,’ she said softly, as though she was talking to a kitten. ‘Brought you some brekkie. Can I come in?’

  �
��Edie?’ Mum didn’t sound particularly welcoming. ‘I told Mimi...’

  ‘I know, but I had some of this awesome fig bread and a bit of goat’s cheese and we just thought we’d tell you our plans, you know, let you know where we’re going and stuff. So you won’t worry.’

  ‘Oh, fine.’

  Edie plumped the pillows up behind Mum’s head and put the tray carefully down where it was close enough for her to reach. Then she sat down at the end of the bed.

  Mum touched her hair anxiously. ‘I must look awful,’ she said.

  ‘Just pale and sleepy,’ Edie said. ‘But that’s okay. You’ve got time to freshen up before the shop opens.’

  ‘Yes. Of course.’

  ‘It’s mild goat’s cheese,’ Edie said, pushing the plate gently towards Mum. ‘You’ll love this, Lou.’

  Mum’s hand went out automatically for the toast. I held my breath. I hadn’t seen her eat breakfast for twelve days. I didn’t know whether or not she ate lunch but I did know she managed only half a dinner at best.

  ‘So,’ Edie said carelessly, as though she wasn’t watching Mum slowly chew the toast. ‘We thought we’d hit Target first. They’ve got a huge range of jeans. That’s where I got these. Well, I got them and then did some slight modifications. Then if we don’t find anything there that Mimi thinks is suitable, there are a couple of other places I know. We’ll be back early afternoon and we’ll pick up something for arvo tea. Sound okay to you?’

  ‘It sounds fine. Thanks so much, Edie. I owe you. When I’m feeling ... well again, you and Jed must come to dinner.’

  Edie looked very interested in her hands all of a sudden.

  ‘Jed’s not around at the moment,’ she said. ‘He’s discovered some urgent business he has to attend to up in Darwin.’

  ‘Oh, Edie!’

  ‘Yeah, well. These things happen.’ Edie gave a small, tight smile. ‘I was really pleased when Mimi called me. Shopping’s such good therapy!’

  Mum grimaced. ‘Do you think so? I can’t bear the thought of it.’

  Edie shrugged. ‘I’ve always found it helps. Mimi said something about a puppy?’

  Mum shrugged. ‘I don’t know,’ she sighed. ‘I did say we could, I suppose. Nothing big. Nothing too much work. I haven’t the energy. Really Mimi, I think we should wait on this one. Honestly.’

  I didn’t say anything.

  ‘I’ll leave it up to you, Edie. I’m sure you’ll know what to do. Take the mobile, Mimi. Ring me if you need anything.’ Mum lay back against the pillows and closed her eyes, but at least the toast had been eaten.

  Edie picked up the tray off the bed and gave me a thumbs up.

  ‘Bye, Mum,’ I said kissing her on her forehead. ‘Thanks for everything.’

  ‘Bye, darling,’ she said in her faded voice. ‘Have a good time.’

  Edie didn’t say anything until we were in the kitchen.

  ‘Well, that’s rough. Poor Lou. Poor you, Mimi!’

  ‘You think she’ll be okay, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah. Of course. It’s just hard while it’s going on. She should see a doctor.’

  ‘I know, but she said the waiting rooms were full of sadness.’

  Edie shook her head. ‘Well, we’ll see. If it’s all too much we’ll get her to a doctor by hook or by crook, Mimi, don’t you worry. Now, let’s get this shopping therapy underway, yes?’

  Edie was a fantastic shopper. She knew the best places with the most interesting things. We found skinny jeans on sale at Target. Then I described for her my idea of a peasant top and a scarf so we went to this second-hand shop Edie knew and found the exact top for me.

  Edie tried on some fringed boots and a leather jacket that made her look like a bikie.

  ‘What do you reckon? Too tough?’

  I shrugged. ‘A bit scary.’

  Edie laughed. ‘Maybe that should be my new look. Scary. Then I’d probably keep out of trouble a bit longer. Darwin! I know what he’s doing up there! Getting back with his ex.’

  ‘Oh. Was he married?’

  ‘May as well have been,’ Edie gave a little laugh that wasn’t about anything funny. ‘I’ll take it, thanks.’ She handed over a credit card. ‘Sorry, Mimi. You really don’t want to hear all this.’

  I actually did, but I couldn’t say that without sounding weird. It was a relief from worrying about Mum in bed, thinking about Edie’s broken heart.

  ‘Do you think you’ll slump into despair?’ I asked over a hot chocolate.

  Edie shook her head with a proper laugh, ‘Nuh. It’s happened too many times, Mimi. I just choose the wrong guys. I’m a bad-boy girl and they just don’t stick around.’

  A bad-boy girl. It sounded fun.

  By lunchtime we’d managed to stack up quite a bit of shopping. Edie had her leather jacket and, to go with her scary look, a new second-hand T-shirt that had a funny slogan on it about men – although I wouldn’t have known it was about men without Edie’s explanation because all it said was, ‘Like a fish needs a bicycle.’

  ‘See, back when feminism was a happening revolution, there was this saying: women need men like a fish needs a bicycle,’ she said.

  I didn’t really get it but it was pretty funny thinking of a fish on a bicycle, and I liked the drawing on the T-shirt.

  She also bought five scarves from the op shop. ‘I think you’re right, Mimi. Scarves will be hot hot hot this summer.’ I bought two – a pale blue one and a red one that we both agreed would look great on Mum.

  She bought a pair of strappy sandals that weren’t scary at all and a maxi dress to go with the sandals. ‘For days I don’t want to be scary. Like when your mum and you come round and we have an al fresco dinner in the courtyard or a picnic on the beach.’

  She made me buy a pair of sequined sneakers to go with my jeans. ‘They’re made for each other and if your mum says no, I’ll shout you.’

  I was exhausted. I’d never done so much shopping.

  ‘This dog,’ Edie said, munching her way through her side of a plate of nachos. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘I’ve always wanted a dog,’ I said. ‘A ship dog. Sailors sometimes have them. Dad used to tell this story of a dog he knew that lived on a yacht and the deck used to get so hot that the dog’s owner made special shoes for it.’

  ‘That’s great,’ Edie said. ‘I wish I’d known your dad. He sounds cool.’

  ‘He was really cool,’ I said. ‘He told amazing stories. He was really good at repairing furniture and stuff, too. He loved going to the auctions and he always brought me back books. Pirate books and books about the sea. He loved the sea.’

  It was the most I’d said to anyone about Dad since he’d died. I stopped suddenly, worried I was going to cry, but I didn’t feel like that at all. It was kind of good to talk about him.

  ‘Yeah,’ Edie said, ‘I wanted to live on a houseboat when I was growing up. Wouldn’t that be amazing? So why couldn’t you have a dog?’

  ‘Dad said the fates would give us a dog when we were ready. He said stuff like that.’

  Edie nodded slowly. ‘So you could consider me part of fate, couldn’t you? It’s just that I reckon a dog could be quite good for you and your mother. I can sort of see you guys with a dog. They’re a great comfort. Animals. It’s been scientifically proven. I mean, honest, even my fish. I got fish after Devo left. He was the one before Jed. You’d think with a name like Devo I would have known better. Anyway, I bought a tank and some angelfish and for weeks they were the only thing that made me smile.’

  ‘Do you think Mum would smile for a dog?’

  ‘I think she’d have to. If we found the right dog.’

  ‘Where could we look?’

  ‘At the RSPCA? You can’t have a big dog in that shop. You want something small, dainty and very trainable. Otherwise it could be a disaste
r. I’m not saying that we’ll get something straightaway either, Mimi. Sometimes you really have to look hard and send out messages to the universe, but the RSPCA is a good place to start. It’s heartbreaking, though, because you just want to bring all the dogs home. Are you up to it, Mimi?’

  I nodded fervently.

  Edie was right. It was heartbreaking. Dogs howled, wagged their tails and even stood on their back legs pleadingly.

  ‘Walk quickly,’ Edie whispered. ‘Don’t look them in the eye.’

  The assistant took us down to the small dog section.

  ‘No puppies, exactly,’ he said. ‘But some younger dogs that might fit the bill.’

  ‘How will we know?’ I asked Edie quietly. I was holding her hand. I wasn’t sure whether I’d grabbed for her or she’d grabbed for me after the first of the cages.

  ‘We’ll know,’ she breathed back.

  ‘You just do know,’ the guy said. ‘It’s like falling in love,’ and he grinned at Edie.

  ‘With something more reliable than the opposite sex,’ she retorted, but I saw a flicker of a smile turn her mouth upwards.

  ‘They’re all a bit old,’ I said. ‘I wanted a younger kind of dog. We have to be able to train her because we own an antique shop.’

  ‘You might not want a puppy in those circumstances,’ he said, scratching one of the dogs behind the ears. ‘You might want a slightly older, sedate kind of dog for that environment.’

  ‘That’s true, Mimi. Playful, of course, because she’ll be your pet, too, but quiet enough to sit in a basket in the shop.’

  We looked at all the dogs. I fell in love heaps of times but never with that chiming in your chest that Edie said would happen with the right dog.

  ‘Not today, then,’ the guy said and he sounded disappointed. ‘Come back though – one day there’ll be the perfect match. Promise!’

  We said goodbye sadly and left. In the car outside both Edie and I had a little cry.

  ‘It’s awful,’ she said handing me half a scrappy tissue she’d found in the glove box. ‘It’s the worst place but just think, if we find a dog there, we’ll have done something to change the world just a tiny bit. It’s worth it, Mimi. Honest.’