by Annie Lyons
In the weeks and months that followed, Eudora, Eddie, Sylvia, and Kenny became a happy band of four. To Eudora, Saturday was as sacred as a Sunday and she allowed herself to dream that she was on the path toward something new and wonderful.
Stella was the thorn in her side. She nagged and pestered Eudora to let her tag along, and when her sister refused, she flouted the rules and left the house anyway. After one occasion when fifteen-year-old Stella was brought home by a policeman, having broken into the local park with two other girls and been caught smoking, Beatrice had turned to Eudora with mournful eyes.
“Please, Dora. Just take her with you on Saturday night. I can’t bear the shame.”
Conscience suitably pricked, Eudora had agreed. She told herself it would be fine. Stella’s level of defiance had intensified as she hit the teenage years, but Eudora’s relationship with her sister remained strong. Or so she had thought.
“You can come along on Saturday, but you have to behave. No drinking or smoking, okay?”
“O-kay, Do-ra,” sang Stella in a mocking little-girl voice.
“If you’re going to be like that, I won’t let you come.”
Stella fixed her sister with a determined look. “Of course you will. Because if you don’t, I’ll escape and bring shame upon this house. Again. And you’ll have to deal with Beatrice droning on and on about how life would have been so much better if our precious father hadn’t been killed, blah, blah, blah.”
“Stella!”
Stella’s expression dissolved into one of raucous mirth. “I’m joking, Dora. Calm down. Of course I’ll behave.” Eudora looked deep into her sister’s eyes, longing to believe her. Stella pulled a comical face before planting a kiss on her sister’s cheek and whispering in her ear. “You can trust me, Dora. I won’t let you down. Beatrice might hate me, but I know you love me.”
Stella had taken to calling their mother Beatrice in a bid to annoy her. For Eudora, it was another example of her being cast as the mother, torn between warring siblings. She loathed this role but endured it as best she could, hoping for brighter days ahead.
Stella started off the evening as good as her word. She wore a simple, pretty pink dress and helped Eudora with her hair. “You look beautiful, Dora,” she told her sister as they smiled at their reflections in the mirror.
Their mother waved them off. “Be back by eleven and be good, Stella,” she warned. Stella rolled her eyes.
The alarm bells should have rung during the car journey. Eudora sat in the front with Eddie, while Stella was in the back with Kenny in the middle and Sylvia to his left. Stella kept laughing too loudly at everything Kenny said. It was a sharp, tinkling sound designed to focus attention on her alone. At one point, she reached over and squeezed his knee.
“You’re so funny, Ken,” she told him.
Eudora could see Sylvia was fuming, while Kenny lapped it up.
In the front, Eddie and Eudora exchanged glances. “Your sister’s a bit over the top, isn’t she?” he muttered.
Eudora was mortified. After all she’d said to Stella, her selfish sister was going to ruin everything if she didn’t act fast.
Eudora turned in her seat to see Stella leaning in to whisper something in Kenny’s ear. From his shocked laugh and Stella’s raised eyebrows, Eudora could tell that whatever she’d said was highly inappropriate. She stole a glance at Sylvia, who looked ready to explode.
“Stella,” said Eudora. “May I remind you that you are fifteen years old and have been invited along tonight as my guest. If you don’t stop embarrassing me in front of my friends, I shall take you straight home. Do you understand?”
“Yeah, cool it, little girl,” said Eddie.
Stella’s face clouded with shame. It was one thing to be told off by her sister, but Eddie’s casual dismissal crushed her. She shrank back into her seat and didn’t speak for the rest of the journey.
Stella stood next to Eudora in brooding silence as they checked their coats.
“Stella . . .” she began.
“I know you don’t want me here. I wish I’d stayed at home.”
“That’s not true.”
“Of course it is. You and your little friends hate me.”
“No, Stella. We don’t hate you. You just got off on the wrong foot.”
“I was being friendly. Anyway, I don’t care. You go and dance with your precious Eddie and I’ll sit on the side like a good girl,” said Stella as they entered the dance hall.
“Come on, Eudora,” said Eddie, appearing next to them and grabbing her hand. “It’s your favorite.” Eudora allowed him to lead her to the dance floor, and she watched as Stella took a seat at the side, arms folded, face set in a pout.
“Ignore her,” said Eddie. “She’ll be fine. I’ll keep an eye out.”
Eudora looked into his eyes and planted a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you,” she said.
“Anything for my girl,” he told her, grabbing her by the waist and whirling her around.
Eudora’s body, heart, and mind soared with hopeful joy.
This is living. This is how life is meant to be.
About halfway through the evening, Eudora lost sight of Stella. She glanced over to where her sister had been sitting. Panic shot through her as she noticed the empty chair.
“Stella’s gone,” she told Eddie.
He cast around the room. “Don’t worry. She’s probably powdering her nose or something. We’ll find her.”
Eddie’s reassurance was short-lived as Eudora spotted Stella in a far corner, laughing with a group of older teenagers. She was holding a glass of what looked like cherryade. Eudora’s heart sank when she spotted one of the boys surreptitiously pull out a hip flask and pour some into Stella’s drink. “Eddie,” she said, tapping him on the arm and gesturing in the direction of the group.
Eddie’s eyes flashed with anger as he let go of Eudora’s hand and charged toward them. She hurried after in fearful astonishment. Before Eudora could stop him, Eddie had the youth with the hip flask pinned up against the wall.
“What the fuck do you think you’re playing at? She’s fifteen!”
Eudora was horrified, not only by the violence of Eddie’s reaction but by the way her sister watched the scene unfold with calm, smiling indifference. It was almost as if she’d planned it. The boy was flailing his hands and struggling to breathe as his friends watched on in stupefied fear. Eddie was older than these youths and had a reputation as someone to be respected and even feared. Eudora reached out a trembling hand and touched him on the shoulder. “Eddie. Let him go. Please.”
Eddie shot a glance in her direction. Eudora saw a coldness in his eyes she’d never noticed before.
“Eddie. Mate. Let him go, eh? He’s just a kid.” Kenny had joined them now.
Eddie loosened his grip enough to bring the boy down to eye level. “Pull a stunt like that again and I’ll break your fucking arm, do you hear?” he said, before letting go and walking away in disgust. Kenny hurried after him, leaving Eudora staring at her sister as the other youths dispersed.
Stella stumbled toward her, wearing a smirk of triumph. “Isn’t your boyfriend a hero? You’re so lucky, Eudora.” She pretended to trip, Eudora was sure of that, and her smirk deepened as the cherry-red liquid was flung across the front of Eudora’s dress.
“Ohh noo! Your beautiful dress,” cried Stella, hand on heart, standing back as if to admire her handiwork. “I do hope it’s not ruined.”
Eudora had scrubbed and scrubbed at the dress for weeks afterward, but the stain never came out and Stella never apologized.
Chapter 8
As Eudora rings Rose’s doorbell on yet another unbearably hot morning, she begins to wonder why on earth she agreed to this ludicrous idea. Her doubts are further heightened as Rose throws open the door and she spots Maggie waddling toward them from the kitchen, looking ready to give birth at any moment.
“Hey, Eudora. Are you ready to be made over?” cries Rose, doing a twirl so
that Eudora can fully appreciate the sparkling “Fashion Guru” T-shirt teamed with purple Hawaiian shorts, silver flip-flops, and a matching bandanna.
“I very much doubt it,” she says with a rising sense of dread.
“You must be the famous Eudora,” says a scruffy-looking man, plodding down the stairs and holding out his hand. Eudora accepts with some reluctance. “I’m Rose’s dad, Rob.”
“Pleased to meet you,” says Eudora.
“Excuse my appearance. It’s been a crazy week and I’m having a lazy morning.”
“I see.”
“Right,” says Maggie, slinging her bag over her shoulder, car keys in hand. “Let’s go, shall we?”
“Are you sure you don’t want me to take Rose and Eudora instead?” asks Rob, leaning over to kiss her.
Rose fixes him with a stern look. “No, Daddy. It’s girls only.”
Rob shakes his head. “So sexist.” He rubs Maggie’s back. “Will you be okay?”
Maggie smiles. “We’ll be fine. See you later.”
He gives a thumbs-up. “I wish you luck. Good to finally meet you, Eudora.”
“You too.”
As the unlikely trio make their way from the car park to the shopping center, Eudora wonders yet again at the wisdom of their mission. Maggie looks as if she might go into labor at any second. Both she and Eudora have to keep stopping to mop their brows and catch their breath, while Rose runs backward and forward in the manner of an overexcited cocker spaniel puppy.
Eudora is horrified by almost every person she sees: hooded teenagers shouting and shoving; overweight parents with overweight children stuffing yet more food into their bodies at just after ten o’clock in the morning; people stopping to stare, zombie-like, at their phones in the middle of the walkway with infuriating regularity. For Eudora it is a vision of Hades—the crowds, the noise, the pushing—all these individuals moving through their lives with scant regard for others. And why is everyone in such a hurry? They’re shopping, for heaven’s sake; surely that should be a leisure activity. These people look as if they’re participating in some kind of gladiatorial tournament. Shop to the death. Consume or be consumed. It confirms her worst suspicions about humans and why she can’t wait to be rid of them.
“Right,” says Maggie. “I propose we go to Marks and Spencer . . .”
“I prefer Debenhams,” interrupts Rose. “Their doughnuts are much nicer.”
“Well, Marks and Spencer has a loo on this floor and your sister is putting all her weight on my bladder today, so I vote we go there.”
Eudora clears her throat to register her distaste at Maggie’s oversharing.
“Eudora doesn’t like toilet talk, Mummy, but that’s fine.”
“Thank you,” says Maggie, hurrying them into the store with relief. “Why don’t you start to browse, and I’ll come and find you in a minute.”
“Okay. Come on, Eudora. Let’s go and find the old-lady clothes.”
“Don’t try to soften the blow, will you, Rose?” says Eudora.
Rose looks sheepish. “Sorry. It’s just that they’re the clothes my granny likes, so I thought you might like them too. They’re actually really nice.” She is momentarily distracted by a floaty sundress in a shade of fire-engine red with gold piping decorating the neck and hemline. “Ooh, this is fancy,” she says, holding it up for inspection.
Eudora frowns. “I own handkerchiefs made from more material.”
“Yes, but still, it’s pretty,” says Rose, replacing the hanger on the rack with an air of disappointment.
Eudora knows she’s being ill-tempered and realizes it has to stop. Rose may have the wearying positivity of a jack-in-the-box, but she is kindness personified. And she wants to help. So Eudora must let her. Anything else would be bad manners.
“Rose, I must apologize to you.” Rose stares at her in surprise. “I don’t enjoy shopping. I’m hot and bothered and don’t like crowds of people. But you are trying to help me, and I shall do my best to be receptive to your ideas.”
“It’s fine,” says Rose with a shrug. “Honestly. I understand. You’re old and life’s a bit much sometimes.”
“Yes,” says Eudora in astonishment. “That’s exactly it.”
Rose nods. “So how about this plan? You sit here with Mum”—she gestures to some fat, round teal-colored sofas set between the shoe and clothing sections—“and if you give me some idea of the clothes you like, I’ll try to find them for you.”
Eudora considers the idea. The shop is pleasantly air-conditioned and the sofas do look inviting. “That’s an excellent plan, Rose.” The little girl beams. “So. I would like a simple but well-fitting dress to my knees, with a high neck and short sleeves. I do not like red but will consider other colors.”
“Leave it to me, Eudora. I won’t let you down.”
Maggie reappears, flushed and out of breath. “What did I miss?” she asks, lowering herself with care onto the sofa.
“Your daughter is on a mission.”
Maggie smiles. “Rose has got a brilliant eye for style. Sure, she’s unconventional with her own clothes but somehow they work.”
“Mmm,” says Eudora. She finds Rose’s outfits to be an assault on the senses, but she takes Maggie’s point. They watch in amused silence as the little girl darts from rack to rack, picking up, rejecting, and selecting. Eudora is nervous about letting a ten-year-old loose on her behalf but rather excited too.
“Ow,” says Maggie, shifting in her seat, putting a hand to her swollen belly.
“Are you all right?” asks Eudora with a frisson of panic. She isn’t ready to play midwife today—or indeed any other day.
Maggie sighs. “I’m fine. This baby is going to be a star striker with kicks like that.” She rolls her shoulders and stretches out her arms. “It’s been a while since I was pregnant. I’d forgotten how tiring it can be.”
“How long have you got to go?” asks Eudora, largely to be polite. She has little knowledge of babies or childbirth.
“About a month, although Rose was early. I hope the birth isn’t as difficult as it was with her.” Maggie notices the horror on Eudora’s face at this turn in the conversation. She clears her throat. “So, whose party are you off to?”
“Stanley’s son’s fiftieth. Although quite why he’s invited me is anyone’s guess.”
“I expect he’s just being friendly.”
“Perhaps.”
“He’s a lovely man,” says Maggie. “Rose thinks the world of him.”
“Mmm.”
“And I think he misses his wife.”
“Well, I hope I’m not next in line,” says Eudora with indignation.
Maggie laughs nervously. “I expect he’s just glad for the company. I know my mum has found it hard since Dad died. She’s got lots of wonderful friends but it’s not the same as having your husband.”
Here we go, thinks Eudora. Another one who insists on opening up at the drop of a hat. It’s as if I’m a magnet for these people. There’s a silence that threatens to inch its way toward awkwardness. Eudora realizes it would be rude not to speak. “How long since your father died?”
“Three years. There isn’t a day goes by that I don’t miss him.”
Maggie’s unguarded honesty triggers something in Eudora. The words are out of her mouth before she can check them. “It’s over seventy years since my father died. I feel exactly the same.”
Maggie and Eudora look at each other, their mirrored grief giving way to a moment’s understanding. “It must be hard for you,” says Maggie.
Eudora sits up straighter, focusing on the rack of highly impractical heeled shoes in front of her. “It was a long time ago. You learn to live with it.” She feels Maggie’s eyes on her. They both know it’s a lie. Eudora is relieved as Rose returns, her arms loaded with outfits. She has a shop assistant in tow, carrying even more.
“This is Beryl,” says Rose. “She’s been helping me.”
Beryl smiles. “You’re so
blessed to have a granddaughter like Rose. She’s a ray of sunshine.”
“Oh, she’s not my granddaughter,” says Eudora.
“I’m her fashion guru,” says Rose, hanging the dresses on a nearby rack and showing Beryl her T-shirt.
Beryl laughs. “You’re an absolute poppet. These ladies are lucky to have you,” she says, adding her selection of dresses to the rack. “I’ll leave you in Rose’s more than capable hands. Let me know if you need anything else. Or if I can borrow her.”
“Thank you, Beryl,” says Rose, giving a little bow.
“Adorable,” mouths Beryl to Maggie.
“So I got mostly dresses but also a few pretty tops in case you wanted to, you know, pep up your wardrobe a bit.”
“I’ll try not to be offended by that, Rose.”
“Sorry. It’s just that you did have a lot of grays. And browns. And dark blues.”
“Yes. I’m well aware of the drab nature of my fashion collection. Very well. Show me what you’ve got, please.”
Rose turns to the rack and holds up the outfits one at a time for Eudora and Maggie to judge. Yet again, Eudora is astonished. She likes almost everything Rose has selected, apart from a sparkly maroon jumpsuit.
“Oh no, that’s not for you, Eudora. I picked it up because I like it and wanted to show Mum.”
In the end, Eudora chooses a soft A-line dress with a delicate blue iris design and a bottle-green top decorated with small yellow birds.
“The dress is beautiful, Eudora,” says Maggie, stroking the material. “It’ll be lovely and cool too.”
“Thank you, Rose,” says Eudora. “You’ve excelled yourself.”
“I’m not sure what that means, but it sounds a bit like ‘excellent’ and you look happy, so that’s good. Do you want to try them on?”
Eudora shakes her head. “I had a dress very similar to this once, so I know it will fit, and the top looks perfect.”
Rose claps her hands with delight. “You’re going to be the belle of the ball!”
“Shall we go and pay?” asks Maggie.