by Jo Brand
The morning’s relaxed atmosphere was shattered. Marie got up and headed to the bathroom, realising after a few steps that she didn’t know where it was.
‘Top of the stairs,’ said Keith helpfully.
In the bathroom, Marie examined what her mother had always called ‘a plain but nice face’, and tried to catch some of the urgent discussion going on downstairs. When she went back down five minutes later, Keith and Alice were putting on their coats.
‘We’re going over there,’ said Keith, ‘see what’s happening. ‘‘OK,’ said Marie. ‘Will you let me know?’ although she really wanted to say ‘Can I move into your house with you, can we get married and I’m probably not too old to have a baby’
‘Of course,’ said Keith.
They drove in convoy up the small lane and when they hit the main road, they set off in opposite directions from one another.
Marie looked in her mirror to see Keith’s hand stuck out of the driver’s window, waving frantically.
She did the same until her car nearly went off the road and the van had disappeared into the distance.
The drive to Hereford took .about half an hour and as they entered the hospital, Alice half expected to see her mother shuffling along the corridor, fag in hand. They were told to go to the doctor’s office and within five minutes the familiar face of Gina’s doctor appeared at the door.
‘Good morning,’ he said, as if he believed that saying it brightly might pre-empt any flak that was coming his way There wasn’t much. Over the years both Alice and Keith had become used to contemplating the worst possible scenario, although it had to be said that Keith was probably at his most indignant and unhappy which was most other people’s best.
‘What on earth happened, Dr Desmond?’ he said. ‘How could you let someone in Gina’s state walk out of the door?’
‘I’m so sorry,’ said Dr Desmond. ‘As you know, initially she came in willingly but as time went on she started to say that she wanted to go because she had to see this Morrissey chap.’
It was apparent that he had not known who ‘this Morrissey chap’ was until some of the younger, more aware staff had filled him in.
‘Yes,’ said Alice, ‘she has become rather obsessed with Morrissey over the last few weeks.’
‘So…’ said Keith.
‘Well,’ said Dr Desmond, ‘we decided we would put her on a temporary section to keep her here, given that it was the weekend, while we waited for the ward round on Monday and got ourselves organised. We kept her off medication so we could get a chance to observe the true Gina.’
‘And?’ said Alice.
‘Well, I’m afraid she became increasingly upset and just before we were about to move her to a ward that was locked so we could contain her, she walked out. When she was challenged by a male nursing assistant, I’m afraid she kicked him in the testicles and ran for it and by the time the emergency team arrived, she was off the premises and away’
‘So, what time was that then?’ said Keith.
‘Last night at about seven,’ said Dr Desmond. ‘Any idea where she might have gone?’
Alice resisted the temptation to say ‘Morrissey’s house?’
Both she and Keith shook their heads.
‘Well,’ said Dr Desmond, ‘we have told the police and I’m sure Gina won’t last very long out in the big wide world because she is so ill. People will notice her and I hope they’ll give her some help or contact the authorities.’
‘Not much else to say then, is there?’ said Keith, looking at his feet. ‘We’ll get home and make a plan our end and obviously we’ll inform each other if we find her.’
‘Indeed,’ said Dr Desmond, a word he’d started using a lot lately because he thought it made him sound very mature.
Pompous little twat, thought Alice.
As they drove home, Keith and Alice discussed a plan. ‘I’ll get Bighead and Wobbly out looking round here,’ said Keith reluctantly.
‘I know this might sound daft, Dad,’ said Alice, ‘and I don’t know if she has the capability of doing it, but I think she’ll head for Manchester to try and find Morrissey’
‘Oh Alice,’ said Keith, ‘she’d never make it.’
‘I don’t think we should underestimate her tenacity, Dad. If she’s determined enough, she’ll make it.’
‘It’s December,’ said Keith. ‘She’ll have nowhere to sleep and no money The police will pick her up long before that.’
‘Let me go to Manchester,’ said Alice. ‘Mark could borrow a car off someone. We could go for two days and really scour all the areas she’s most likely to be. I won’t even miss work. Anyway, you can’t stop me even if you wanted to.’
Keith knew that was true and he also knew how unbearable it was just sitting at home waiting for news.
‘All right,’ he said in a resigned way ‘Two days, but straight back after that.’
Alice nodded. ‘I’ll go everywhere and I’ll find her.’ Keith felt a small glow of fatherly pride. He knew lots of men who despaired of their teenage daughters because of the distance between them, but Alice seemed to have all the good qualities of Gina and none of the bad ones. She seemed so convinced that she would find Gina in Manchester that all he could do was wish her well.
As soon as Alice arrived home she phoned Mark at work. The woman who answered responded to her request to speak to Mark with a snooty, ‘Our part-time employees are not permitted phone calls at work, madam.’
‘I’m so sorry, said Alice, trying to keep her temper. ‘I wouldn’t normally do it but it is an emergency.
‘Very well,’ said the woman, ‘but please make the call as short as possible.’
‘Hello?’ said Mark, sounding understandably worried. ‘Mark,’ said Alice, ‘I’m sorry about this but I need you to come to Manchester with me for two days to look for my mum who’s escaped from hospital. Can you get a car and the time off?’
‘Blimey,’ said Mark. ‘I feel like I’m in Mission Impossible. Well, I finish in an hour, so with any luck I’ll be over at yours in a couple of hours. Not sure about the car, though.’
‘Whatever you can manage,’ said Alice. ‘We need to go today’
She put the receiver down.
‘I’d better phone Marie,’ said Keith. ‘Just to let her know what’s happening,’ he added in response to Alice’s raised eyebrows.
Marie Henty’s unhelpful receptionist eventually put him through.
‘What’s happening?’ Marie asked immediately.
Keith explained the current state of play.
‘I can’t really talk now,’ said Marie. ‘Why don’t you pop round later?’ She crossed her fingers behind her back so that the flu-infused patient in front of her couldn’t see.
‘OK,’ said Keith.
Mark arrived at one thirty in possibly the most ridiculous orange car Alice had ever seen.
‘What the bloody hell do you call that?’ she said. ‘It’s like a baked bean tin on wheels.’
‘It’s a Honda 600 Z coupé,’ said Mark, ‘and it costs about three quid and does about four thousand miles to the gallon.’
‘Where did you get it?’ said Alice. ‘Borrowed it off a leprechaun, did you?’
‘Don’t take the piss. It’s got to get us to bloody Manchester, this has. It belongs to my mate’s brother, he’s away for the week.’
‘So he doesn’t even know you’ve got it then?’ said Alice.
‘No,’ said Mark, ‘and I’m not insured to drive so we’d better be bloody careful.’
Keith roared with laughter when he saw the car.
‘Yes, all right,’ said Mark. ‘I know.’
Alice had packed a small bag and brought her Morrissey folder with her. This collection of scrappy articles and pictures would give them some idea of where to look. She knew Gina had been through them many times — there were some tiny comments in Gina’s hand in the margins and the occasional splodge of coffee or butter from her rather chaotic breakfasting behaviour.<
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‘Be careful, you two,’ said Keith, pressing thirty pounds into Alice’s hand, ‘and drive carefully in that bloody Noddy car,’ he said to Mark.
‘Do you want a lift to Uncle Bighead’s?’ said Alice.
‘No bloody fear,’ said Keith. ‘They’d execute me on sight. Call me tonight,’ shouted Keith as they drove off, waving furiously ‘Let me know you’re safe.’
‘All right,’ shouted Alice, but the wind carried the words, away before they reached Keith.
Keith steeled himself to go and see Wobbly and Bighead. On the way he dropped into Doug’s shop to tell him the news.
‘Bloody amateurs,’ said Doug. ‘Wouldn’t have happened in my day’
‘I’m going to see Bighead and Wobbly,’ said Keith. ‘Want to come and be my bodyguard?’
‘Ooh, yes please,’ said Doug sarcastically.
‘Oh, one thing I nearly forgot,’ said Keith. ‘I was going to get Alice a ticket for the next Morrissey concert. Can I have a butchers at that NME and see when he’s on?’
‘Be my guest,’ said Doug.
Keith discovered that Morrissey was playing in Wolverhampton in about a week’s time and that all those who arrived with a Morrissey T-shirt would be let in free.
‘Now I just have to get a Morrissey T-shirt,’ he muttered. ‘You’ll have to go to Brum for that,’ said Doug. ‘Great,’ said Keith. ‘Doesn’t look like I’m going to get any work done today’
He hared off to Birmingham and managed finally to locate a T-shirt. On his way home he detoured via the Wildgoose cottage to talk to Bighead and Wobbly.
‘Don’t tell me,’ roared Wobbly who’d had a few barley wines, ‘she’s fucking scarpered!’
‘Well, yes, she has actually,’ said Keith.
‘Oh bollocks. Dad! Wobs!’ Bighead shouted over his shoulder. ‘She’s escaped from the bin!’
He looked at Keith as if he was a piece of fishing bait.
‘Wanna come in, Keithy?’ he said.
Keith made a quick calculation involving time of day amount of alcohol consumed and level of social disinhibition achieved, and turned down Bighead’s offer.
‘We should have a search tomorrow, though,’ he said. ‘Shall we meet in the morning?’
‘Dunno,’ said Bighead distractedly ‘All right, we’ll come to yours in the morning.’
‘OK,’ said Keith and walked away thankful once again that he was physically unscathed.
Marie got up to answer the ring at her door.
Keith stood there grinning.
‘Want to come to ours?’ he said. ‘Alice is calling me later so I’ve got to be in.’
All right,’ said Marie, picking up her bleep and her handbag.
Keith held his breath as they drew up at the cottage as it suddenly occurred to him that Gina might have come home.
There was no sign. I wonder where she is? he thought.
Gina was in a lorry doing seventy on a dual carriageway heading north. She had promised the driver sex if he took her to Manchester.
They overtook a tiny bright orange car.
‘Jesus,’ said the driver. ‘What the fuck is that?’
Alice and Mark arrived in Manchester about six o’clock. Neither of them had been there before and didn’t really know where to begin.
‘Let’s start with a map, shall we?’ said Mark, parking the car on a single yellow line. ‘There must be a crappy newsagent’s near here that’s got one.’
There was. They bought a street map of Manchester, two Twix bars and a can of Coke each and then sat in the car, Alice with the contents of her folder spread out on her knees.
She produced a little notebook and a tiny blue pen, the type that come from a bookies. At some point it must have been in the possession of one of her uncles, she mused.
‘Shall we start with the Salford Lads’ Club?’ she said distractedly to Mark. ‘It’s where that great photo on the inside of The Queen is Dead comes from and it seems to be a bit of a mecca for Moz fans.’
‘Whatever you like,’ said Mark. ‘Have we got a strategy?’
‘Just go there, hang about and keep our eyes open,’ said Alice. ‘I’m afraid that’s all the strategy I can manage at the moment.’
‘What about Morrissey’s house?’ said Mark.
‘That’s in Stretford,’ said Alice, ‘King’s Road, but we’ll do Salford first, we might meet people there who can help.’
They drove, chewing their chocolate, for quite some time until eventually they found themselves in Salford. They passed the Salford Lads’ Club and could see a few people hanging around outside in the rain and cold. A gaggle of Japanese tourists was obviously trying to re-enact the photo which had appeared on the inner sleeve of The Queen Is Dead.
Alice approached a small group who looked like students, three boys and one girl.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry to bother you but I’m looking for my mum.
‘Morrissey fan, is she?’ said one of the floppy-haired boys with a slight sneer.
‘Patrick,’ said the girl. ‘Don’t be horrible.’ She turned to Alice. ‘What does she look like?’
‘Oh, about five foot five with wild black hair, a bit odd-looking,’ said Alice. She put her hand in her pocket and produced a picture of Gina taken about four years ago. Her features were slightly flattened by the progress of her illness but there was definite evidence of the wild witchiness that had dominated some years before.
‘She looks amazing,’ said the girl. ‘Why are you looking for her?’
This was the first potential stumbling block for Alice, something she had wrestled with in the car on the way up. She had no idea how much she should tell the people she met, but she supposed her questions would anyway alert them to the oddness of the situation so she went ahead and said, ‘She’s not very well … mentally, you know, and she needs some help… and yes, she does love Morrissey and we thought she might come to some of the places that remind her of him.’
‘Wanna lock her up and give her some of this?’ said the sneery bloke, putting both his hands to his head and simulating ECT.
‘I’m sorry,’ said the girl, ‘he’s a bit anti everything conventional, can you tell? I haven’t seen anyone like that but if you want to give me your phone number, we come here quite a lot and if I see her I could call you.’
‘Thanks.’ Alice tore a page out of her notebook and wrote down her name and number. ‘We’ll just hang around for a bit and see if she turns up,’ she said, almost as if she was asking permission.
‘OK,’ said the girl, almost as if she was giving it. ‘I’m Lou, by the way Nice to meet you.
They shook hands with an embarrassed laugh. The boys were glowering at Mark who was returning their gaze with equal ferocity Alice wondered why teenage boys had to do this and why they couldn’t just relax and get on with each other.
‘Any suggestions about where we could look?’ said Alice. ‘We were obviously planning to go to Stretford.’
‘Of course,’ said Lou. ‘Well, I suppose you could try Canal Street and round there too.’
‘Yes,’ said Alice. ‘I suppose it’s worth a try.’
Mark and Alice stood in the rain for an hour, Alice truly convinced that if they waited long enough, her mother would appear magically from round the corner. There was occasional communication between her and the students about Morrissey but Alice found that the almost machine-generated facts spewing from the sneery one’s mouth sat uneasily with her emotional attachment to Morrissey.
Do I really care, she thought, what sort of guitar someone has or what key a certain song was written in? That’s not going to get to the heart of the man.
It got darker and colder and eventually the little groups who had been there when they arrived melted away and left the two of them alone.
Eventually Mark said, ‘Let’s move on, shall we?’
Alice didn’t want to go.
‘Just another fifteen minutes,’ she said.
‘Al
l right,’ said Mark, not wanting to express what he was truly feeling, which was a sense of utter hopelessness about the task they had set themselves.
After fifteen minutes no one had arrived and they were wetter and more demoralised.
‘Come on then,’ said Alice. ‘Let’s go to Canal Street. At least we can get a drink. I’d better phone my dad first,’ she added.
They found a phone box and as Alice listened to the ringing tone, she wished she could see what Keith was doing. Was he pottering around in the kitchen? Watching sport on the television? Or lying on his bed dreaming and listening to Bob Dylan, as he often did when he was tired?
Keith was lying on his bed but it wasn’t Bob Dylan who was there with him, it was Marie Henty.
They had started the journey to the bedroom in a very contained fashion, discussing the current situation with Gina and why Alice had gone to Manchester, although both of them weren’t really thinking about that. Marie was considering just coming out with a request for sex and seeing what happened, and Keith was wondering how long they needed to talk before it was socially acceptable to stop and go upstairs for sex. The conversation ambled everywhere for a good twenty minutes. Eventually Marie said, ‘Keith.’
‘Marie,’ said Keith.
And just speaking each other’s names was the catalyst they needed. Keith grabbed Marie’s hand and pulled her up the stairs with him into the bedroom and there in the dark, each with their own issues of fidelity lust and love niggling somewhere in the back of their minds, they undressed each other in a furious tangle of awkwardness and laughter. Just as Keith’s pants flew across the room and hit the window, their progress was halted by Alice’s call.
Keith looked at Marie.
‘I don’t want to answer it,’ he said, ‘but I can’t ignore it because I know it’s Alice and I just want to check she’s OK. Is that all right?’ and he walked backwards out of the door, trying at the same time to hop back into his pants, some ancient rule of decorum telling him that you cannot have a phone conversation with your daughter without your pants on.
Marie lay on the bed trying to avoid the thought that this was the marital sanctuary of two of her patients and listening to Keith’s voice downstairs.