Balancing Act

by Joanna Trollope

  Life, if he’d been asked to define it, consisted largely of the factory, partly of his own active existence, and in small but significant part of Susie and her daughters. He was fascinated by all of them, coming as he did from a severely traditional background which held inflexible views about the obligations and suitable occupations of men and women. His mother had been a nurse before she married, but gave it up when his elder brother was born and never thought of returning. She made herself useful in the community, but never for money, because to do so, it was implied, would have somehow been an affront to his father’s manliness. Coming from such a background caused Neil to wonder very much, when he first met Susie. The wonderment only increased when he then encountered her daughters. There were, by his calculation, five people who ran the Susie Sullivan pottery, and four of those people were women. After three years of working for them, the wonderment might have worn off a little, but the respect had grown. Especially for Susie. Susie ran that factory – or, at least, influenced that factory – with an instinctive mixture of the personal and the impersonal that he doubted any man could manage. They all knew her as a person, but they knew she was the boss as well.

  Her daughter Grace, however – the daughter whom Neil had much the most to do with – was more of an enigma. She was talented, no doubt of that, and popular round the factory, and she had no airs and graces about the practicalities of what they did. In fact, out of Susie’s three daughters, Grace was the only one who could actually do all the processes on the factory floor. Neil knew she could; he’d watched her. Her eye for what would or wouldn’t work in a functional sense was second to none. And she had a good manner with the workforce, always herself, but comradely somehow, kind without patronage. But for all her warmth and approachability, he couldn’t quite get a handle on her. She was just a little cool, just a little distant, just a fraction out of reach. It wasn’t grandeur, but she was elusive, all the same. She looked vulnerable, but also unavailable to be helped. It made her very interesting and disconcertingly attractive. Whenever Neil saw her unmistakeable red head across the yard, or through the design-studio window, he experienced a little jolt of electricity that could easily throw him off balance. Not for long – but long enough to make him aware of it, and to make him anticipate, more keenly than was comfortable, the next time it might happen.

  The existence of Jeff in Grace’s life was painful to Neil. He told himself that Jeff was just an irritation, but he knew he was kidding himself. At first, Jeff’s height and looks were almost beyond bearing, but as his personality became evident, indulgent exasperation at Grace’s choice gradually softened the blow of his appearance. Neil could shake his head at her folly, while making an automatic note of all Jeff’s failings and inadequacies, which were now mounting up to a shocking tally. He had had to watch them, as he had had to watch that strange old boy who said he was Grace’s grandfather arrive with his carpet bag of trouble, and move in on her as inexorably as Jeff had done. It was frustrating to watch, agonizingly frustrating. But watch he had to. It wasn’t so much that she was the boss’s daughter – this wasn’t the nineteenth century, after all – but more that riding to her rescue would make her angry, and make him look a complete idiot. They had a working relationship, and that was that. If his heart smote him on seeing her looking so strained and tired, it couldn’t be helped. Grace Moran had never given him the slightest hint that she saw him as anything other than a work colleague, and that was a fact that he would simply have to bite down on.

  So when she came into his office unannounced and said she’d like to tell him something, he was completely unprepared. His office was small and chaotic, the door permanently wedged open with lever arch files of press cuttings, and lit by a single fierce fluorescent strip light which threw violent and unbecoming shadows on everything underneath it. It gave Grace’s face a truly terrible pallor, as well as darkening the evident smudges of weariness under her eyes.

  Neil half rose from behind his computer. ‘Excuse the mess—’

  ‘I can’t see it,’ Grace said. She waved a hand, as if the clutter of papers was indeed invisible.

  He stood more upright and edged round his desk towards her. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Tired,’ Grace said.

  Neil moved a pile of stuff off a plastic chair to the floor, and indicated that she should sit down. He said, ‘None of my business, but it’s been a rough old week.’

  Grace sat. She pushed her hair back and said, ‘What goes on here is everyone’s business. And yes, it’s been rough.’

  He picked up one of the many used mugs on his desk. ‘Tea?’

  ‘Don’t bother.’

  ‘It’s no bother. Nor’s coffee. I can nip to the café—’

  ‘Neil,’ Grace said, ‘I don’t need tea or coffee. I just want to tell you something.’

  He said, ‘Anything,’ too quickly and instantly regretted it.

  Grace looked at the door. ‘Does it shut?’

  Neil manoeuvred his way further round the desk and nudged at the lever arch files with his foot. ‘Let’s try.’

  ‘I don’t want to be furtive …’

  ‘But?’

  ‘But I really just want you to know. In case …’

  He shut the door with difficulty, and stood leaning against it. ‘In case?’

  ‘Well,’ Grace said, ‘I think someone should know where I am. If you don’t mind being that someone.’

  A spasm of fear clutched him. She was about to tell him that she was going away for the weekend with Jeff, and Susie had made it very plain that she disliked and disapproved of Jeff. So Grace was about to ask him not to tell Susie—

  ‘I’ve got to get away,’ Grace said. ‘Not for long. Just a few days. I’ve—’ She stopped.

  He waited.

  ‘I’ve just got to be by myself. No family, nobody. I feel completely … pummelled by them all.’

  Neil was almost giddy with relief. He said cautiously, ‘Why are you telling me? Don’t get me wrong, I’m very flattered you are – but why me?’

  Grace gave a little sigh. She glanced up at him with a small smile. ‘Well, you see me coming and going more than anyone. You’re in daily touch with Ma. You can fend any of them off, if there’s a fuss.’

  ‘A fuss?’

  ‘If anyone wants to know where I am.’

  He relaxed against the door. ‘And where will you be?’

  She said slowly, ‘The Lake District. A hotel. I’ll give you the number.’

  ‘And for how long?’

  ‘Just the weekend. Maybe a bit longer. I’ll see. It depends on whether I can sleep.’

  ‘Grace,’ he said, ‘are you not telling your mother?’

  She glanced at him again. ‘No, I’m not telling anyone but you. I want to slip out, and then slip back again. I am absolutely exhausted with everything being such a big deal.’

  ‘Are you asking me to cover for you?’

  Grace looked slightly startled. ‘I don’t think anyone will even notice I’ve gone.’

  Neil took the plunge. ‘Not even Jeff?’

  She put her hands in her hair again, and pushed it back. She said, ‘It won’t hurt him to wonder.’

  ‘So this is really—’

  ‘No,’ she said quickly. ‘No, it’s not a game. I wouldn’t ask you to be part of a game. I shouldn’t have said that – I don’t mean it. I just mean I need to get away from all of them.’

  Neil stood more upright, an inch or two away from the door. He said, ‘So, if anyone asks me, what do you want me to say?’

  ‘That I’ll be back by Wednesday. Latest.’

  ‘Is that all?’

  She got slowly to her feet. ‘Yes, please. That’s all you know. That’s all I’ve told you. Just delete everything else.’

  He said, ‘They’ll ring your mobile.’

  She looked at him. ‘And I won’t answer it. I’ll only answer it if you ring me, because then I’ll know it’s an emergency. OK?’

  He sm
iled at her. Her sudden confidence was like an unexpected present.

  ‘OK,’ he said.

  ‘If you eat that,’ Jasper said to Maisie, indicating the cubes of cheese and discs of cucumber on the plate in front of her, ‘then I might find you something special.’

  Maisie regarded him. She had already inspected the contents of his pockets and found a bus pass, a crumple of old receipts and a button. She said sternly, ‘You haven’t got anything special.’

  He picked up a cheese cube and held it out. ‘Not in my coat, I haven’t.’

  Maisie leaned forward and took the smallest possible corner off the cheese cube. She said, ‘Where’s Grandma?’

  ‘Working.’

  ‘Like Mumma.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jasper said. ‘Very like Mumma. Eat your cheese.’

  Maisie folded her arms on the table. She said, ‘Cheryl gave us Jammie Dodgers.’

  ‘And your dad and I are giving you cheese.’

  Maisie made a face. ‘I want Cheryl back. I want Cheryl to be here now.’

  Jasper smiled at her. He said, ‘Fred’s eaten his cheese.’

  ‘Where’s Dadda?’

  ‘Gone to check something.’ He turned and looked at Fred, in his high chair. He said, ‘Hi there, big boy.’

  Fred, his cheeks packed with cheese cubes, beat his hands on the tray in front of him, setting cucumber discs jumping.

  ‘I want a Jammie Dodger,’ Maisie said.

  Jasper bent to pick up a fallen slice of cucumber. He said indistinctly, ‘One, that’s no way to ask. And two, not a hope. This house is a Jammie-Dodger-free zone.’

  Maisie gave an experimental roar. Fred imitated her, his mouth full of cheese. Jasper straightened up and put the food in both his hands down on the table. He said, ‘If you’re hungry, you eat what’s in front of you. If you’re not hungry, you don’t need to eat.’

  Maisie stopped roaring. She said, in a perfectly normal voice, ‘What about the special thing?’

  ‘If you’re not hungry,’ Jasper said, ‘there’s no need for specials.’

  Fred leant forward, grunting urgently, his mouth still open.

  ‘Eat up,’ Jasper said to him. ‘Swallow.’

  Fred gulped.

  Maisie said, ‘If I eat my cheese?’

  ‘Then we’ll see.’

  ‘Why aren’t you working?’

  ‘I am,’ Jasper said. ‘I’m helping Daddy look after you. That is most surely work.’

  ‘When I’m a princess,’ Maisie said, ‘I can have wings. And eyeliner.’

  ‘Only if you eat your cheese.’

  Fred gave a final gulp and roared again.

  ‘What does he want?’ Jasper said to Maisie.

  She picked up a slice of cucumber and took a tiny nibble.

  ‘Probably a Jammie Dodger,’ she said.

  There were feet running down the stairs to the basement kitchen, and Leo appeared. He looked to Jasper’s eye both collected and cheerful. He’d looked like that when he’d opened the door to Jasper, two hours ago. He’d looked, it occurred to Jasper, as he had probably looked himself, twenty-five years ago, with the kitchen full of little girls, and Grace on his hip, eating a breadstick. He’d been a rarity then, an oddity, a commented-upon phenomenon, a man at home competently coping with two little girls and a baby, and seemingly never happier than when the kitchen was full of children finger-painting and plaiting each other’s hair, children whose attention he could command in an instant, just by picking up his guitar. Leo didn’t have a guitar. But he had, it seemed, a presence. The kitchen was not the kitchen of a man out of control or even a man who wanted to be somewhere else. It was the kitchen of a man with a plan.

  Jasper said to him, ‘We haven’t given up on the cheese. But it’s taking a while.’

  Leo looked at Maisie’s plate. He said, ‘I’m not impressed, chicken.’

  Maisie flopped back in her chair. ‘I’m too tired to eat.’

  ‘Fine.’

  Fred was packing cucumber into his mouth with the flat of his hand.

  ‘Steady on, Freddy,’ said Jasper.

  ‘Thank you for holding the fort,’ Leo said.

  ‘I like it, you know.’

  Maisie said, ‘I need Mumma!’

  ‘You’re an old hand, Jas.’

  ‘A bit out of practice.’

  ‘I need a biscuit!’

  Fred choked, and a mass of cucumber flew out of his mouth and landed wetly on the tray of his high chair.

  ‘You’re such a twit,’ Leo said to him, thumping him gently on the back.

  ‘I said,’ Maisie shouted, ‘that I need Mumma!’

  ‘We heard you.’

  ‘Now!’

  Leo lifted Fred out of his high chair and sat down opposite his father-in-law with Fred on his knee. He said to Maisie, ‘Where do you think Mumma is?’

  Maisie glowered at him. ‘Working,’ she said witheringly.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At the office!’ Maisie shouted.

  ‘Why?’

  Maisie jerked herself upright. ‘To buy me a present!’

  Leo wiped Fred’s face. He said cheerfully, ‘Now you’re being silly. You know why she’s working.’

  Jasper looked at his son-in-law. He said, ‘Do you know why? ‘

  Leo unhooked Fred’s plastic bib. ‘She’s good at it,’ he said. ‘We all like doing what we’re good at.’

  ‘Don’t feed me a line,’ Jasper said. ‘Don’t fob me off.’

  ‘I’m not.’

  ‘Leo,’ Jasper said, ‘I’m not asking for no reason. I’m interested. I’m interested to know what you really think.’

  Leo lowered Fred to the floor. Then he leant across the table, put a cube of cheese on top of a slice of cucumber and pushed it towards Maisie. ‘Eat up.’

  She bent forward, and without using her hands began to nibble clumsily at the cheese.

  Leo said, ‘What I really think is that you do as much of what you like doing as you can, and as much of what has to be done as you can stand. In my view, it’s better to get something done than try and do everything perfectly. So if Ashley likes what she does at work and can make enough money to support us, then I’m happy to make that possible. Or at least try to. It’s early days. I like this home stuff. You should get it, Jas. You liked it, too. God, man, you were a pioneer!’

  Maisie quietly picked up her cheese and cucumber and put it in her mouth. Neither her father nor her grandfather took any notice.

  Jasper said, ‘Early days.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘What about your own disappointment?’

  Leo looked at Maisie. ‘Don’t feel any,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t. Not for ages. I was glad not to be the breadwinner. Still am, probably. But not being the breadwinner and not fulfilling one’s personal ambition either – well, that’s something else.’

  Leo looked embarrassed. He went on regarding Maisie, who was chewing ostentatiously.

  Jasper said, ‘Wanting to do something and being driven to do something aren’t quite the same.’

  ‘Two more bites,’ Leo said to Maisie, ‘and then you can have the strawberries Grandpa brought.’

  ‘He shouldn’t have,’ Jasper said. ‘Flown in from Israel or somewhere. All those wicked air miles.’

  ‘And then a Jammie Dodger?’ Maisie said.

  ‘There aren’t any.’

  ‘There are! There are! Cheryl put them in the tiger tin!’

  ‘They’ve all gone,’ Leo said.

  Maisie opened her mouth to roar again.

  ‘Stop,’ Leo said.

  She glared at him, her mouth still open. But she didn’t scream.

  ‘Good,’ Jasper said admiringly.

  Leo reached across the table and held out another cube of cheese.

  ‘As I said, Jas,’ he said, ‘we all like what we’re good at.’ He inserted the cheese into Maisie’s open mouth. ‘And anyway, what’s happening here is just as important as what’s hap
pening in the office. In fact, if I wasn’t doing this, Ashley couldn’t manage to do what she does.’ He smiled at Maisie, who was chewing, her eyes on her father’s face, then glanced across at Jasper. ‘Any more than Susie could have done without you.’

  Jasper ducked his head. He stooped sideways to hand Fred a plastic train that was just out of his reach. Then he said, ‘I know, I know. But that – well, that was then.’ He glanced at Leo. ‘Early days, you know.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Jeff’s flat was very small. It was on the first floor of a modest purpose-built block at the back of the garden centre where he worked, and the view was either of rows of container-grown shrubs, or of a car park beside a disused cinema now given over to bingo.

  Jeff himself slept on the couch so that he was near the immense television whose screen dominated his sitting room. He was a tidy man, and during the day his bedding was rolled up and stored in the room that was to be Morris’s. It contained a headless bed, a built-in cupboard, a stepladder, a travel bag and no curtains. On the bed were two pillows and the fat roll of Jeff’s duvet. The walls were blank and the view was of the car park. It was as far from the ramshackle house at the back of a palm-fringed beach that had been Morris’s home for half a century as it could be.

  Susie had driven Morris out to Trentham Gardens. Jeff had offered to collect him but Susie had been very firm in declining. She had borrowed Grace’s car and put Morris, his carpet bag and a box of groceries inside and driven out of the city. She told Morris, as if he was a newcomer to the area, that Trentham Gardens was lovely, really quite posh for Stoke, having been the Duke of Sutherland’s estate, with the park laid out by Capability Brown. The park itself was now just a gorgeous playground, she said, attracting over three million visitors annually, and all free. But Jeff’s flat was not, as it turned out, in the salubrious part of Trentham Gardens. In fact it was only nominally anywhere near it. Susie’s positive talk, Morris noted, died away as they drove further and further from the park and the lake and the carefully designed chalet-style retail centre. They ended up beside a building which made Morris remember, weirdly, a fact he’d known when he was a boy, growing up in Barlaston, which was that all the hills in the Stoke area had once been coal-waste slag heaps. Industry had such a terrible gift for uglification then, and obviously still did. No wonder it was hard to be back.