An Unsuitable Mother

by Sheelagh Kelly

  ‘I thought I was meant to be the intolerant one?’ jibed Nina. ‘What happened to your sunny nature – did me dad bequeath his grumpiness in his will?’

  ‘Is there any wonder I’m bad-tempered?’ demanded her mother. ‘What idiot expects a woman in her seventies to contort herself into a seat for a five-year-old?’

  ‘Maybe the idiot who paid for the flights.’ Nina gave a sideways laugh at Romy – who was trying to put on a brave face, though was obviously torn at having to leave her sweetheart.

  Nell grabbed her daughter’s wrist in a gesture of pacification then, said ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Neen, I wasn’t being ungrateful …’ But Nina only smiled, and agreed that for three thousand pounds one might expect a more comfortable ride than on a hopper bus.

  Settling back, Nell experimented with buttons, trying to gain a more comfortable position from her seat, until the steward came hurrying up and returned it to the correct position for take-off. She gripped the arms of her seat in preparation, as the plane inched away from the departure gate and was to continue at this tortoise pace along a runway. ‘Is he going to wheel it all the way to Brisbane? I thought this thing had wings?’ Then the sudden roar of the jet engines had her grappling for Nina’s hand. Despite her daughter’s reassurance, she was to remain queasy as the aircraft raced down the tarmac and lifted them into the air.

  Even when the plane levelled out, Nell took a good look around to check on the condition of the other passengers, and, more importantly, the crew. Then, with no one seeming perturbed, she began to relax and even enjoy herself – especially when the trolley came round with drinks. Nina saw her rooting about in her purse and told her to put it away. But Nell insisted, ‘No, I’ll get these! You’ve paid for everything else.’ Informed that the food and drink was free, she exclaimed, ‘Is it really? Oh, if your father were here he’d be in his element.’ She was pretty happy herself, and was to tuck into everything that was put before her during the following hours.

  There were films too, though not really up an elderly lady’s street, and Nell took to studying her fellow travellers, wondering at their backgrounds. The man across the aisle was even porkier than herself; she didn’t know how they’d managed to squeeze him into his seat, and she was relieved she wasn’t sitting next to him. It was barely possible to catch sight of his wife on the far side of him, but when Nell did, she diagnosed a thyroid problem. When the man in front scratched his head she noticed he had a ganglion on the back on his hand. There was a baby right at the front. The poor little thing had screamed blue murder on take-off, obviously annoying certain people – including Nina. It was crying again now. She smiled in sympathy at its mother, who wandered up and down the aisle, rocking it in an attempt to keep it quiet. In fact, she studied everyone who came down the aisle. There was one particular stewardess who interested Nell, a beautiful girl in immaculate make-up, who beamed widely as she came along the rows offering in a bright voice, ‘Tea or coffee! Tea or coffee!’ But her friendliness was rather mechanical, and when she looked at you her gaze rested on your forehead. Nell was determined to engage her eye before the flight was out.

  In an attempt to cheer up Romy, whose mind was somewhere beyond the clouds, she leaned over Nina to ask had she bought anything new for her trip. Romy gave half-hearted reply, but thought enough of her grandmother to return the compliment.

  ‘Ooh yes, I got quite a few nice things,’ replied Nell brightly, ‘I saw these nice little cardies in Marks –’

  ‘Little?’ blurted Nina, and eyed Nell’s large bust with great exaggeration in the hope of making her daughter laugh, which she did.

  Nell grinned too, pleased to be the butt of their jokes if it helped lift the mood. ‘Be quiet, you, or I shall buy myself a swimming cossie in Brisbane and show you up.’

  The conversation eventually petering out, Nell sat back for a while, before breaking in again to voice puzzlement over how quickly it had become dark. Nina explained that it was because they were travelling forward in time. Then there was another meal, and another film, and a procession back and forth to the toilets. Nell complained how little space there was inside the latter. ‘And when you go for a widdle nothing comes out. It must be the pressure in the cabin.’

  Even with the aid of earplugs, masks, and herbal tranquillisers it was difficult to get any decent sleep. The passenger across the aisle began to snore. With a sigh, Nell pulled up her mask and glared at him, though little good this did. Allowing him to rumble for about five minutes, she could stand it no more and leaned across to jab him awake. But it only worked for a while before his head began to loll, and he set off snoring again. ‘Have you heard him?’ she prodded Nina to ask. ‘It’s because his neck’s so fat. How do they expect you to sleep with that going on?’

  ‘Here, have my Walkman for a while,’ sighed Nina.

  ‘Have you got any golden oldies on it?’ Nell squinted over the tiny earphones, trying to make out which was left and which right.

  ‘Mostly old ones, yes. Beach Boys –’

  ‘Oh I like them! Has it got that one that goes bob-bob-bob-bob-bobaround?’

  ‘Barbara Ann, you daft bugger!’

  ‘Is that what it is? All these years I’ve been singing the wrong words.’ Nell shook with laughter.

  Nina turned to her equally amused daughter. ‘What’s she bloody like?’

  Catching their indulgent smiles, Nell wondered, When did I become a silly old fool? But instead of annoying her, the thought caused her to twinkle, as she sat back to enjoy the music.

  For a time she continued to listen, spending the rest of the boring hours plodding up and down the fuselage, finally to return to her seat and plonk herself down, shaking the whole row and causing eyes to open. Eventually the lights came back on and there was activity from the stewards in preparation of breakfast.

  ‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,’ announced the captain. ‘We trust you managed to get a decent night’s sleep –’

  ‘No we bloody didn’t,’ said Nell, loud enough for others to overhear and smile at her.

  Face all creased, Nina arched her aching back, then waited for someone to unblock the aisle before clambering over her mother and heading for the bulkhead. ‘The toilets are in a dreadful state again, aren’t they?’ she remarked when she came back, wafting of toothpaste and perfume, and generally spruced up.

  ‘They’re even worse since I broke the seat,’ admitted Nell from the side of her mouth, setting them all chuckling.

  Previously enjoyed, the food had begun to smell nauseating, every meal tasting identical, whether meat or pastry. Nell just had a roll for breakfast. The marmalade came in dinky pots, and a knife was not a suitable implement to remove it all. Watching her corpulent neighbour across the aisle trying to figure out a way to get that elusive blob of jam out of its pot, Nell took bets. ‘You watch, he won’t be able to resist leaving something uneaten,’ and, sure enough, he eventually worked out a way, upturning his teaspoon and using its tapered end to scrape out that last skerrick.

  The plane touched down, allowing them to dodder off, though their horrendous journey had eleven more hours to go. Nell clung on to Nina and Romy’s arms, and, after checking on their wellbeing, exclaimed, ‘My God! I feel as if I’m walking on a bed of nails, my feet are that dead I’ll be surprised if none of us get a thrombosis.’

  Back on board the tidied-up aircraft, there was more food served, more films to watch. Hour after boring hour.

  Until finally, ‘Ladies and gentlemen …’ the captain’s voice announced. ‘We have now entered Australia.’

  A ripple of applause went through the cabin, everyone craning their eyes through the portholes to espy through the vapour a magnificent swirling pattern of salt pans thousands of feet below, shimmering like opals under the brilliant red of a dying sun. Not long after this, though, night fell, leaving nothing to see but miles of inky void.

  Hours were to follow the announcement, making them aware of just how vast this country was. How am
I going to find him in all this? thought Nell, suddenly engulfed by a wave of futility. And after that she retreated into herself.

  Towards the end of that final haul, everyone was stiff and tired and short-tempered, their ankles inflated from being squeezed into economy seating. Another delivery of drinks was performed. Nell knew the routine by heart now, idly watching as the beautifully made-up girls worked their way along – how could they look so pristine after being crammed in all these hours? Having failed to get that particular stewardess to look her directly in the eye, and still determined to do so, Nell reached out to take a plastic container of orange juice from her, both their hands colliding and the orange being spilled down her white blouse. And even then, she didn’t meet Nell’s eye.

  ‘Never mind, love.’ Nell smiled at her profuse apology, and took the offered tissue to wipe away the stain. Then, after the stewardess had passed, she grumbled to her neighbours, ‘Clumsy berk. What a sight I’m going to look with a big orange stain down my front. I feel grimy enough as it is – but at least I don’t stink as bad as that man in front.’

  Nina and Romy shook with laughter, both agreeing, ‘You can’t take her anywhere.’

  ‘I don’t care! He should know to have a wash!’ Nell squirted perfume over the seat in front.

  A head craned round to investigate. ‘I think he gets the drift, Nana.’

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, in a moment the crew will be coming round with immigration forms, if you’d kindly fill those in …’

  ‘We’ve already got ours,’ interrupted Nell, her pen poised over the leaflet. Then she accosted Nina. ‘It says you’re not permitted to bring food in. Do you think Polos count as food?’ When no answer was forthcoming, she tucked the tube of mints in the pocket of the seat in front. ‘Better safe than sorry. Drugs – does that mean medication? I’ve got my painkillers.’ They were for her joints and back, a legacy of all the heavy patients she had lifted.

  ‘I think it just means illegal stuff,’ explained Nina.

  ‘Yes, but if I don’t tick the box and they search my bag they’ll think I’m lying and not let me in – I couldn’t stand to turn around and go straight home. It would kill me.’

  ‘You and me both,’ agreed Nina, with an edge to her voice. ‘Look, just ask the bloody steward if you won’t take my word about your blasted pills.’

  ‘Currently, the temperature in Brisbane is a very comfortable nineteen degrees. For those who have not yet adjusted their watches, the local time is twenty twenty-two.’

  ‘Just get us there!’ sighed an exasperated Nell.

  Then she remembered that only by reason of another’s kindness was she here now. Nina could have spent the fruits of her success on other things; instead, she had chosen to allow the woman who was not even her real mother to realise her lifelong dream. Feeling churlish, she reached out suddenly and laid a hand over Nina’s, gripping it in a gesture of deep affection and gratitude.

  ‘What was that for?’

  ‘Just to show you I’m not really an ungrateful old so-and-so, grumbling about everything. I totally appreciate what you’re doing for me, Neen, I promise I’ll stop complaining from now on, or they’ll be calling me a whingeing Pom.’ And the rattiness that had characterised those final hours now lifted as the landing gear came down and the lights of Brisbane spread out below them, like dew on a spider’s web.

  At last the plane touched down. If their feet had been painful earlier, it was nothing compared to how they felt now. ‘It’s like Elephant Walk, isn’t it?’ said Nell, looking down at three pairs of swollen ankles as they waited at the carousel for their baggage to come around, and forgetting her promise not to whinge. ‘The minute we arrive at the hotel, you must get your feet up,’ she ordered Nina, whose were by far the most swollen.

  ‘Here comes ours – excuse me!’ A short-tempered Romy edged her way through the cram of Asians to haul a case off the conveyor. After a brief skirmish, enduring security and passport control, Nell could hardly believe they were free to go.

  Automatic doors opened onto a balmy night. It was evident they had arrived in a completely different land; the air that hit their faces was like being stroked very pleasantly with a warm velvet glove, and, once untainted by aviation fuel, was sweet and fresh.

  Romy screamed as a huge insect came bumbling out of the night to land on her T-shirt.

  ‘Christ! You nearly gave me a heart attack,’ gasped Nina, as the cicada was dashed away, leaving them all prickling with nerves. ‘Come on, let’s get in one of those bloody taxis.’ She aimed the trolley towards them, this taking only a few more painful steps, then they were ensconced in a cab and on their way towards the lights of the city.

  Their ankles still bore signs of oedema the next morning, though were not quite so inflated, and that awful pins and needles had gone. After a luxurious bath, Nell tapped on the adjoining door, which was opened by a bleary-eyed Nina, and, after waiting for Romy, they all went down to the dining room. Here they were to stack their plates and bowls with several types of melon, yoghurt and muesli, anything remotely fresh, in an effort to remove the memory of the airline food from their tubes. There was a strange contraption, a sort of conveyor belt on which to toast bread to one’s personal taste. Not realising the etiquette involved, Nell took the first slice that came off.

  Nina laughed and, unusually polite this morning, said of the victim, ‘Mam, this gentleman’s been waiting ages for that.’

  Under Nell’s profuse apology, the businessman smiled and said, ‘No worries.’ Though he did take possession of his toast, whilst telling her how to use the machine. Notwithstanding that he was the wrong age to be her son, Nell continued to show interest in him, and afterwards stood and chatted to those others who congregated around the toaster, waiting for the slices of bread to turn brown at a painfully slow rate of knots.

  ‘You’ve finished interrogating everybody, have you?’ asked Nina, when Nell finally joined the others.

  ‘Well, you never know what you might learn,’ said Nell, then eyed Romy’s plate, which held a sweet pastry. ‘I don’t know how you can eat cakes first thing on a morning!’ But then she noticed that her granddaughter’s expression was not in keeping with the excitement of her surroundings, and remembered that she must be pining for Patrick. So, ‘You eat what you like, love,’ she instructed warmly.

  During breakfast, they discussed what to do first. Romy had found out prior to their trip that there were two main repositories: the State Archives and the State Library. Looking at their little map, provided by reception, the library was in walking distance, so it made sense to consult this source first.

  ‘I don’t feel like doing it this morning, though,’ said Nell. ‘I won’t be able to get my head round anything.’ They had arranged to stop three nights in Brisbane, then take things from there. So, ‘Let’s just have a wander round the shops for today, and get our bearings.’

  ‘If we ever get our cup of tea!’ Nina looked around at the busy dining room. ‘Where the hell has that waiter got to? He said he was bringing it ages ago. Oh there he is, look at him, trying to pretend he hasn’t seen me.’ She rose and marched to a counter upon which were pots of tea and coffee, and an altercation occurred. Nina came back somewhat ruffled, muttering, ‘Little shit …’

  Following breakfast, taking the map with them and wearing comfortable sandals, they made their way down towards the main business district. The tranquillity of the hotel foyer soon gave way to a steady stream of human traffic, commuters in lightweight business attire, tourists in vest and shorts, and Nell clung on to her daughter’s arm to avoid getting in anyone’s way – though at least there was plenty of space, the streets not cramped as they were at home. Gradually descending, they came to a busy intersection, the traffic going only one way but this making it seem like a racetrack. On the map it looked simple, the streets and roads laid out in parallel and perpendicular lines, but with noisy vehicles thrown into the equation, it was all totally confusing for Nell.


  Intimidated by so many high-rise buildings, commuters gathering around her at the kerb, the steady blip of the traffic signals warning them not to cross, she tried to study the male faces of those around her, looking for a hint that one might be her son. But it was all too overwhelming, and her eyes were now on those gathering on the other side of the road, which seemed such a distance way, ‘Isn’t it busy?’ The stream of one-way traffic flashed past them, the thunder of motorbikes and enormous chromed trucks with smoke stacks.

  ‘You want to try London,’ said Nina. ‘It’s a madhouse. This place is really laid-back.’

  ‘I did go to London once in the war, but only to Kings Cross. The ambulance train just turned straight round and went back.’ Which was what Nell wished she could do now. ‘Can we find a shop to go into?’

  ‘That’s what we’re looking for, Nana,’ said Romy, who consulted the map. ‘There’s meant to be a shopping mall just a bit further on.’

  Nell was wondering if she had bitten off more than she could chew, when the flow of traffic suddenly halted, and a rapid blip-blip-blip-blip indicated that it was safe to cross. She held on tight to her daughter’s arm as they encountered the throng of people who came from the other side, a moment of confusion occurring. The intersection seemed even wider now that the green signal had suddenly expired, and there were yards yet to go. Nell was flustered and out of breath when she finally reached the other kerb.

  The snarl of traffic behind them, another busy stretch of pavement, then, at last, Nell found herself steered into a pedestrianised street, here able to relax a little and pause and look about her at the architecture without being mown down. It was indeed a beautiful city, clean, and youthful – between the amazons of concrete and glass with their sleek flanks of black or turquoise glass reflecting the sunlight were grand and sedate colonial buildings, such as one with an ornate clock tower, or tranquil oases of palm-studded lawns in which to catch one’s breath.