It was almost as if someone was doing a chemistry experiment and had added a catalyst. At last, the family was getting on. The rest of the barbecue food was ruined, but there was plenty of Pimm’s to get through and as night fell, the survivors of the party sat down on the grass and chatted. Dr Merryman, her parents’ GP friend from up the road, went off to get his guitar and returned to strum and serenade into the early hours. No one could remember the last time they had let their hair down like this. It was like a mini music festival. The children went to sleep with their heads in their parents’ laps and a lovely soft moon shone over the whole gathering.
Mel wasn’t sure how they were going to get the kids clean enough to go to bed without waking them and making them irritable. In the end, Briony came up with the brilliant idea of getting a bowl of soapy water and some flannels to wipe off the worst of it. Then she suggested, ‘Why don’t we all sleep in the teepee tonight? It’s a lovely warm night and we can’t get ourselves clean enough to go into the house, let alone the beds! Mum’ll have kittens if we traipse through the house like this!’
And so it was that they snoozed and giggled the night away in the teepee. They agreed that it was the best fun they’d had in ages.
It wasn’t so much fun in the morning, however. The sun seemed terribly bright as Mel staggered towards the house to get clean and find something to settle her hangover. The children were already stirring and telling each other jokes. Hangover or not, this was lovely. There were several other sleeping bodies strewn across the lawn, including that of Dr Merryman, who was sleeping with his head on his guitar. Even Ozzie and Iggy had chilled out. Both of them were curled up in the teepee and Ozzie hadn’t tangled himself up in knots in his temporary tethering system, trying to go off on his usual killing spree.
‘Remember what we’ve said to you now, darling!’ said Mel’s dad. ‘Briony, Zeus and I are of the same mind. Don’t ask me how I know, but things in P and T Bank aren’t as safe or as squeaky clean as they might seem. It may be an idea for you and the children to get away somewhere isolated … take Alan if you can persuade him, before Armageddon breaks loose!’
Briony and Zeus nodded sagely in agreement. ‘I know we normally don’t get on, Mel, but we do love you, you know? We’ve seen a lot of footage about our finance industry and its dealings recently.’
‘And some rather disturbing news about some friends of yours. New friends. I won’t say any more than that,’ continued her father, looking rather like a main character in a James Bond film.
And then it happened … out there in the drive, before Mel and the children got in the car. They had a proper big family hug! Even her mother had forgiven her for the loss of her bridge partner.
‘To tell the truth,’ she said, ‘she was getting on my nerves anyway, darling. It was always “Edgar this” and “Edgar that” droning on and on about his law degree and his career and then Elouise. I don’t know why she boasts so about Elouise. Whenever they’re staying at Cynthia’s house, Cynthia is shouting profanities at Elouise from dawn till dusk. Honestly, some of the things she shouts are not fit for a common fishwife. She shouldn’t be playing bingo, let alone bridge if you ask me!’ she sniffed, looking towards Cynthia’s house as the curtain twitched. ‘Darling, I know we haven’t got along recently, but I really do love you. You make sure you listen to Daddy and Briony. Ring us when you get home.’
As they drove away, there wasn’t a dry eye. Even the dog and cat were whining and meowing.
Now, as they drew closer to home, she remembered all the reasons that had made her decide to take the children to her parents’ for the week. When they’d first arrived, relations between her and her sister had been so bad that she had yearned to go home and could only see Alan through rosy-coloured spectacles, but these had fallen away and she could see things as they really were. Alan had been insufferable over the last month or so. Ever since Big Swinging Dick had arrived and becoming ‘friends’ with Poppy, Alan had been rude, angry and arrogant and had spent most of his time either snorting Columbian marching powder or out cold with his nose red and running and drool coming out of his mouth. She was really going to put her brain in gear and deal with this situation head-on. She had been making excuses for a quiet life.
The extra money and what seemed like Alan’s career success had made her acquiescent and it looked like this was a dangerous stance for everyone. She had to reset her moral compass and trust her instincts. No, it wasn’t right that Alan was snorting cocaine and she knew in her guts that dealings with Poppy and her family were unwholesome. Why did Poppy and Tarquin need one hundred per cent loans from P&B Bank to buy property when they had so much invested in tax havens? What was all this talk about the horticultural industry of Afghanistan? Wasn’t Afghanistan a desert? What did they grow there? And what did her dad do? She had never known, but he seemed to know an awful lot about the banking system and had just been to some deserty country. She wasn’t sure it had been Algeria, but there were still crusty bits of camel poo on her father’s shorts. She knew camel poo from her trips to Egypt. There was nothing quite like it. No, she really needed to take note of what her family were telling her.
44
The house looked like a demilitarised zone. Even as they drove up in the car, it had a desolated and abandoned air, although there was nothing obviously amiss. The exterior of the house merely exuded an aura of desolation. But the interior? Well, the interior looked as if it had been hit by a bomb. The kitchen sink and all the surfaces were covered in dirty dishes, bits of food, pots and pans and what appeared to be an attempt at cultivating biological weaponry much more real than anything not found in Iraq. There were dirty underpants and sundry other bits of clothing dangling out of the open door of the washing machine and strewn all over the kitchen floor and Ozzie, being a cat, jumped straight into the washing machine, nestled down in the centre of the suppurating mass and went to sleep. Iggy sniffed around, enjoying his chance to eat everything. He swallowed a pair of underpants. Room after room was found to be in a similar state and Mel just hoped that the children’s rooms had escaped the disaster that seemed to have befallen the rest of the house. With bated breath, Amy, Michael and Mel climbed the stairs. Then they entered the bedrooms one by one. Amy and Michael’s bedrooms were as they had been left. Mel had forgotten to fix Amy’s curtains after the tantrum months ago, but nothing had changed. She only wished she could have found the same level of order in the bathroom, the main bedroom and the en-suite. The bathroom was covered in wet towels and the scum on the bath lay in strata. The sinks were covered in whiskers and old toenail clippings were ground into the soap in the soap dish. These clippings appeared to have been flung generously all over the place. She was convinced that she could see toenails in the light fittings. God only knew how they had got there, but then again, nothing was making sense at the moment. There was no Alan to be seen anywhere in the house, despite it being Saturday afternoon. If it hadn’t been for the fact that nothing was taken and there was no sign of forced entry, Mel could well have concluded that they had been burgled. But what burglar would also leave scum in the bath tub and human gunge everywhere? She was sure that any burglar would have been tidier than Alan had been. She was just taking a deep breath and beginning a count to twenty when the doorbell rang. Amy answered the door.
‘It’s Mrs Gulliver!’ she called.
Good grief! A neighbour? Surely after all this time, the rattlesnakes weren’t coming to welcome them home and present them with homemade apple pie?
‘Hello?’ Mel looked her neighbour up and down so that she would recognise her if she ever saw her again.
Mrs Gulliver appeared rather perturbed, as if she had been living in a haunted house for a week.
‘I don’t know where Alan is now,’ started Mrs Gulliver, her eyes roaming wildly, as if she were a meerkat on the alert, ‘but for the last few nights there have been all sorts of um … comings and goings. The music has been playing very loudly until the early hours every
morning and at least once, I have found Alan sleeping in your back garden. I wasn’t spying or anything … I just couldn’t help seeing him from my spare room window. Lying there, he was, wrapped up in a sheet as if he were wearing a toga. Your friend’s husband has also been around. The police have been over to get them to quieten down as well. Oh no, I didn’t call them … could have been anybody in the Avenue.’ She paused for breath. ‘The cars that have been in your drive! There have been Porsches, Lamborghinis … ooh, all sorts. There was even a helicopter flying low over your house one night. I don’t think it was the police helicopter either, because they always hover. This one had a Stars and Stripes flag and … er, what resembled a huge … ahem … “appendage” painted on it.’ Mrs Gulliver was becoming thoroughly absorbed in her subject now. She seemed to have been quite thrilled by the whole experience. A helicopter? Adorned with Stars and Stripes and a huge ‘appendage’? Well, who might have been the owner of such a prestigious vehicle? Who else but Big Swinging Dick? So, Alan had been throwing parties for his cronies in the midst of their family home all week by the sound of it. And the whole neighbourhood had seen goodness knows what … including the police coming to tell Alan off for disturbing the Queen’s peace.
‘Thank you, Mrs Gulliver. I am so sorry you have been disturbed in this way! Alan probably needed to host some executive dinners or something!?’ she laughed shrilly. ‘You know how chaps are when they get together! They don’t really leave their teenage years behind, do they?’ She sounded like the mother of a rather unruly infant. Better to make a merry little quip out of it as it wouldn’t do at all to show fear to a woman of prey such as Mrs Gulliver.
‘Oh,’ said Mrs Gulliver, somewhat triumphantly. ‘It wasn’t just chaps! No! There were an awful lot of “ladies” turning up at all hours too. Thought they’d catch their death of pneumonia, I did.’ Mrs Gulliver enthusiastically drove the point home.
It was midsummer and it was hot all night as well as all day. There was no way Mrs Gulliver was truly concerned over the health of these ‘ladies’. She just wished to ensure that Mel understood completely that they were very scantily clad. She continued: ‘Some of them must have left their horses elsewhere.’
‘What do you mean?’ shuddered Mel.
‘Well, they had very little on but the garments they were wearing were tight, black and made of leather. They were also carrying riding crops and bridles and wearing spurs,’ she squeaked, flushing with exhilaration.
‘I see. Well, thank you, Mrs Gulliver. Maybe it was a corporate fancy dress party! In fact, I think Alan did mention that he would be throwing one while I was away! Thank you for letting me know and for taking such good care of my property whilst I’ve been away!’ Mel started to close the door before she fell down in a weeping mess in front of the old witch. But Mrs Gulliver continued,
‘Would you like me to help you to tidy up? I could make us both a nice cup of tea … and I’ve brought some biscuits!’
‘No … no. That’s awfully nice of you, obviously, but I really need to get unpacked and settle the children in,’ she concluded … and find Alan and kill him. She finally managed to close the door and then leaned against it, trying to regain her strength and sanity. Meanwhile, the children wandered around completely confused by the whole scene. Amy’s face was puckering up in readiness for a wailing fit and Michael didn’t seem to be faring much better.
‘Well, Daddy’s never been very good at housework,’ she bluffed, ‘and I asked Mrs Holland, the cleaner, not to come whilst we were away. We’ll have this place sorted in no time!’ She managed to act more confidently than she felt and this appeared to relax the children a little. She then went to get the cat out of the washing machine before she forgot he was in there and inadvertently put him through a programme … Hot, it would have been, judging by the state of the underwear Ozzie had nestled into. It was no good. She couldn’t leave it like this for the cleaner to deal with tomorrow. It was embarrassing and knowing Alan these days, there could be all sorts of illicit substances hidden about the house. The children were exhausted and whining so she got them through their bedtime routine first.
Amy dived under the covers with her favourite cuddly ant and Michael stroked his Airport Barbie’s hair as he closed his eyes. They had had a lovely time with their cousins, in the end. Really they had quite a lot in common once Gabriel and Jupiter had lightened up a bit. The study of political theory at Gabriel’s age, although it sounded impressive, had made him very cynical. Hardly surprising really, given the state of politicians anywhere in the world, Mel thought. It made Mel feel a lot more at ease about the psychosocial well-being of her own children.
At least her kids knew how to play, even if it may be weird play at times. It was great to see how good her children’s influence had been on Gabriel and Jupiter.
Sleeping in a teepee had actually been very liberating. Maybe there was something in all this pyramidy stuff after all. Inspecting the house, compared to the teepee, she realised how totally bogged down she was with material possessions. All the things in the house had to be kept clean and the more things she had, the more cleaning had to be done and the more cleaning products she needed. It was made more apparent now because most of the stuff in the house had escaped from its hideyhole and oozed over every surface, with the help of Alan. It was like some rather unpleasant culture that had been growing far too long in perfect conditions on an agar plate … it had burst forth and invaded everything its germy eyes surveyed.
Once the children had settled, she attempted to impose order. She wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, because she was worried about Alan and his whereabouts although she tried to put it out of her mind. Whatever had happened to him was his own bloody fault, she kept reminding herself. And anyway, he hadn’t been in touch much whilst they were away and therefore she hadn’t told him when to expect them back. It was like living with a stranger these days. It was no good … all this scrubbing wasn’t taking her mind off where on Earth Alan might be. Despite herself, she phoned his mobile.
‘The mobile phone you are calling has been switched off,’ proclaimed a smug voice with great finality. Although it was just a technical tool, the voice seemed to be jeering at her! ‘Ha! Your husband has switched his phone off because he’s up to something and he doesn’t love you and doesn’t want to talk to you.’ That’s what that uppity little voice was really telling her. So she scrubbed with more vigour and indulged in a gin and tonic. Finally, as she was about to give up and go to bed at three in the morning, she heard scratching and scrabbling noises at the French windows of the conservatory. ‘Oh my God! This is it! I am about to be the victim of some serial killer!’ Scenes from every horror film she had ever seen flooded her mind unbidden.
‘Mel!’ squeaked a bunged-up voice. ‘It’s Alan. Let me in!’
Alan bounced through the door with Rob. Both of them were high as kites.
‘Where have you been?’ asked Mel.
‘Oh … er … here, there, everywhere!’ answered Alan vaguely as he and Rob raided the cupboards for crisps and nuts and biscuits.
Great. Welcome home, Mel! Alan seemed worse now than before she had left.
She wanted to go to bed and forget about it all, but she felt uneasy about leaving two drug-crazed lunatics downstairs. They were smoking as well, so if she went to bed, it was unlikely that the house would be standing or that they would be alive in the morning if she went up now. So she hung around downstairs, feeling like a gooseberry in her own home.
Finally Alan and Rob passed out and after checking that anything that could cause a fire or injury was safely disposed of, she crawled into bed at some unearthly hour. She was too tired for it to occur to her whether Kelly knew where Rob was.
Next morning, she was woken by the phone. Alan and Rob were still unconscious downstairs on the floor and the children were sleeping.
‘Mel! Oh you’re home! Thank God!’ It was Kelly and it was seven in the morning. ‘I waited till now to phone because I
thought you’d be exhausted, but I couldn’t wait any longer! Rob’s disappeared!’ cried Kelly.
‘Oh … no! He’s here with Alan asleep and drooling on the carpet.’
‘Oh! Thank God! He’s been gone for days. He went to meet Alan on Tuesday and never came back! What is going on?’
‘I only wish I knew!’ Mel groaned.
The long summer holidays stretched ahead of them. Amy and Michael had missed the last week of school. There was no way she could hide things from them now. They were going to come down from their bedrooms soon and they would see their dad and Mel’s best friend’s husband lolling on the floor like a pair of tramps. This was awful. There was no way she was going to deal with this alone.
‘Kelly! Please can you come over? I don’t know what to do!’
45
‘What have they doing!? Look at them!’ marvelled Kelly on observing the state of both their husbands. They didn’t bear close examination, but at a cursory glance, their faces were covered in whiskers about half a centimetre in length and their noses were dripping with snot. Their hair was matted and they reeked of alcohol, body odour and who knows how many chemical substances.
‘Let’s go and have some tea and work out some sort of stratagem.’
She settled Kelly’s children (who had been dragged out of bed to accompany Kelly in this time of need) in front of the television to wait for Mel’s kids to wake up and come down to play. Mel had no intention of subjecting Amy and Michael to further horrors this early in the morning. They’d had quite enough last night. Mel just thanked God that she had taken them away for a week. She shuddered to contemplate how much psychological damage they could have suffered if they had been kept in that environment for seven days.
The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife Page 17