Footnotes to Sex

by Mia Farlane

  May leaned back into the sofa. She closed her eyes again, and concentrated on her breathing; she tried to imagine her mind washed free of coffee.

  ‘Here you are.’

  May opened her eyes again, and Francine gave her a plate with two slices of pain de campagne on it. ‘You should eat. It will line the stomach. I’ll go and prepare the tisane.’ Francine returned to the kitchen.

  ‘Thank you,’ May called out after her. ‘That’s very kind.’ She ripped off a piece of the fresh brown bread, and put it into her mouth. She felt so ill, and she felt so grateful, that she almost started to cry. She choked on the bread, and then she took another sip of water.

  The room was teeming with books; it was crawling with them. May was in a cave of books; like fungi, in piles around the edges of the room, they seemed to be growing – beside the front door and under the windows – creeping up the walls, and touching the ceiling. All these books that May hadn’t read; it made her head swim. She imagined them, in a freak earthquake (confined to the sitting room), shaken out of the shelves, and flying out at her. Francine would come back from the kitchen, and find her drowning under the rubble of novels and essays; she’d pull May’s limp body out from under, and breathe life into her.

  Francine came back with the tea. She handed May a thin porcelain cup with a saucer.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ May said, and she put it on the floor. She felt a bit flushed. ‘I’m not feeling very well. I’ll drink it in a minute perhaps.’

  ‘Do as you like,’ Francine said. ‘Don’t drink it at all, if you don’t want to.’

  ‘No, thank you, I’m going to drink it.’ May bent down to get the cup. She took a small sip. ‘It’s very good. Thank you.’ Her head was spinning. ‘I’m not feeling well at all.’ She wanted to lie down. She put the cup back on the floor. ‘I’m going to close my eyes,’ she said. ‘Do you mind?’ She half lay down, leaving her feet on the floor, to be polite. ‘If I could lie here for a while, perhaps ten minutes…’

  May opened her eyes. The room was dark now; the curtains had been drawn. She got up and pulled them open again, disturbing a sparrow, which immediately flew off. The windows were wide open; it was late in the afternoon.

  ‘Ah, bonjour.’ Francine said this very gently; she was taking oranges out of a paper bag and putting them into a large pottery bowl on the kitchen table. ‘I didn’t wake you?’ She began unpacking a bag of kiwi fruit, placing them on top of the oranges.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, that’s very good then.’ Francine folded up the paper bags and put them in a drawer.

  ‘Was I asleep for a long time?’ May asked.

  ‘I have reworked an article, and I have been out shopping,’ Francine told her. ‘You see: while you sleep, others are busy at work.’

  ‘It’s bizarre; I drink too much coffee, and it puts me to sleep,’ May apologized.

  ‘No, it’s not bizarre; it’s quite normal: when you mistreat the body it has to recuperate; and there is nothing better for that than sleep.’ Francine finished putting away the rest of the shopping. ‘Sit down. I’ll make you another tisane. I have bought us some pâtisseries.’

  ‘Shall I help you?’ May offered.

  ‘No, no. Sit.’ Francine pulled out a chair.

  May sat down at the table. She wasn’t quite awake yet. She watched Francine prepare the tea.

  Francine put the teapot and cups on the table, undid the bow on a thin cardboard box and opened it out. ‘Une tartelette aux framboises and une tartelette aux fraises: which one do you prefer?’

  May’s favourite fruit was raspberry. ‘They both look delicious,’ she said.

  ‘Shall we halve them?’ Francine got a knife from the drying rack next to the sink. ‘How is your PhD progressing?’ she asked as she handed May a plate.

  ‘Not very well. Thank you – this looks delicious.’

  ‘Have you seen your supervisor?’ Francine sat down, and poured the tea.

  ‘No.’ May took a small bite of the strawberry tart. ‘Not yet,’ she said.

  ‘You still haven’t seen her? It’s unbelievable! Listen, I’m going to tell you what you must do: find another supervisor.’

  May shrugged.

  ‘Quite simply.’ Francine ignored her. ‘And you will tell this woman that she is no longer needed, for you have found someone else. She isn’t fulfilling her obligations; you owe her nothing.’

  ‘No, it’s really my problem,’ May said. ‘It’s because I haven’t felt ready. She can’t comment if I haven’t been able to put anything very solid together; when it’s all almost only in note form.’

  ‘But that’s ridiculous! She’s there to guide you. She could help you with the structure. You’ve been working on this for months. I could help you with the structure – except I am not being paid for that, of course; besides which, I may be far too busy now…’

  ‘No, that’s kind. I’ll continue working on it.’

  ‘For how much longer?’ Francine asked.

  ‘Yes,’ May agreed – that was a point.

  ‘It is a real question,’ Francine told her. ‘Your supervisor’s going to expect to see something very soon, surely!’

  ‘Perhaps before the end of summer, then?’

  ‘No: before the end of spring.’

  May nodded.

  ‘If I have one piece of advice to give you,’ Francine went on, ‘it would be to put more pressure on yourself. You have to, or you’ll never arrive anywhere.’

  May nodded again. ‘Yes. No,’ she said.

  ‘Come here with your essay plan the next time you visit, and I will have a glance at it.’

  ‘But you’ll be too busy with your book launch, won’t you?’

  ‘I shall look at it after the launch, the day after.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘That is, if you want. But perhaps you don’t want my help. I am not forcing you.’

  ‘No, that could be good.’

  ‘Good. Well, now I must get back to work. Have you finished your tea?’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’ May got up to go; she’d done something wrong. ‘I might go for a walk in the fresh air,’ she said, trying to sound purposeful. ‘I might walk back to the hotel.’

  ‘That’s an idea,’ Francine told her. ‘“Solvitur ambulando”.’

  ‘Hmm,’ May said.

  ‘By Saint Augustine.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Do you know the expression?’

  ‘Possibly. What does it mean again?’

  ‘It means, “have a good walk”,’ Francine told her. ‘The weather’s becoming fairly mild now; you’ll find it’s still quite pleasant at the end of the afternoon.’

  ‘Perhaps you would like to walk with me?’ May thought aloud; perhaps that was what she was supposed to do: she was supposed to take the initiative now and then, behave more like Francine’s equal. ‘We could go to the Jardin du Luxembourg – or to the Tuileries,’ she suggested. ‘Or if there’s somewhere else that you might like –’

  ‘No, May! I can’t spend all my afternoon walking around in Paris! I thank you for the invitation, but you are going to have to venture out on your own; I’ve got work to do.’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Was Francine saying that it was a waste of time walking across Paris with May? ‘I think a long walk will help my head,’ May explained.

  ‘Exactly.’

  ‘Thank you for the tea,’ May said. They were standing at the door now. ‘And thank you for the afternoon tea, and for helping me with my headache.’ She didn’t want to go; she’d definitely done something wrong, and she shouldn’t have suggested the walk, that was presumptuous of her, or she was supposed to have said something else, she didn’t know what.

  ‘If you’re feeling better, that’s good.’

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Bon, au revoir,’ Francine prompted her.

  ‘Oui, au revoir.’ May went out onto the landing and knelt down to get her shoes.

  ‘I won’t wai
t here for you,’ Francine told her. ‘I must get back to work.’

  ‘Of course.’ May smiled, in order to look happy. ‘See you soon.’ She started doing up her shoelaces.

  Francine closed the door.

  14

  Problem-Solving

  Arriving at Waterloo, she hoped Jansen would be standing there waiting for her to come through passport control; she’d take May outside to the car. ‘I thought you might appreciate being met.’ Soon the car heater would be whirring away. They’d stop and pick up takeaways.

  May bought a ticket, and took the Underground home.

  ‘Oh, you’re back. How was it, then?’

  May placed her bag on the sitting-room floor. ‘How was what?’

  ‘What d’you mean “how was what?”? How was Francine? How was it visiting her?’

  ‘Fine.’ Jansen had her answer.

  Jansen sighed heavily, as if she were carrying a piano. ‘Did you decide to tell her you’ve deferred?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘May, you’re being monosyllabic.’

  Silence.

  ‘Shall I make dinner?’

  ‘Hmm.’

  Jansen left the room. That was really irritating; she was supposed to draw May out; she was supposed to wait for more answers, persevere. Instead, she was now in the kitchen, chopping onions. That was deliberate.

  May went into the kitchen.

  ‘So, you don’t wonder how I’m feeling, after visiting Francine. No, I still haven’t told her I’ve deferred! And now she’s asking me again about my non-existent supervisor!’ Jansen didn’t seem to be listening. ‘Not that you’re interested.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You asked me, but you didn’t really want to know. Otherwise, you’d have tried a bit harder. Perhaps it’s not simple-simple, easy to talk about.’

  ‘Are you saying you’d like to tell me now?’

  ‘Not if you’re not interested.’

  ‘I asked you how it was!’

  ‘Well, do you want to know?’

  ‘May, if we’re going to argue can you help me cook? I’m hungry.’

  ‘Oh, that’s why you’re so grumpy.’

  Jansen passed May the broccoli. ‘And put some carrots in with them, too.’

  ‘I hate cooking.’ May got the carrots out of the cupboard next to the sink.

  ‘There’s a message for you, by the way. On the answerphone. It’s from Elizabeth.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ May dropped the carrots into the sink and went to the bedroom. She listened to the message, wiped it, and returned to the kitchen.

  Jansen had cleaned the carrots and put them on the bench.

  ‘Elizabeth’s decided she’s definitely moving to London; and she’s going to take up our offer to stay here until she finds a place: that’s not what we offered! “Won’t be there Friday. Probably more like Saturday.” She’s told Mark – whoever he is – that he’d be welcome to have dinner with us. “Hope that’s okay,” she says. “Think it’s the least I could offer him.” Great, she’s already inviting men around.’

  Jansen practised quiet detachment as she moved onions around in the pan with a wooden spoon.

  ‘How can you stand it in here? It’s awful!’ May rubbed her eyes dramatically, and turned on the extractor fan.

  ‘May, can we have a calm evening? I know you’re feeling stressed, but I really don’t appreciate you coming in here and ranting at me.’

  ‘I am stressed.’ She was getting all wound up again; she was being excessive, she could see it, and completely awful to be around; but she didn’t know how to calm down. ‘It’s exhausting.’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘And I think I’m a bit pre-menstrual, too,’ May told her. Maybe that was it.

  ‘So am I: we are both pre-menstrual.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘Yes. So perhaps you could set the table.’

  ‘All right.’ May got some plates out of the cupboard and put them on the bench. ‘Elderflower juice?’ She tried to be nice.

  ‘Yes, please.’

  ‘I just wish I’d never invited her.’ May got out the glasses. ‘It makes my throat hurt.’

  ‘Why don’t you call her back,’ Jansen said, ‘and say you’re looking forward to seeing her, but you’d rather she didn’t invite her friend at this point?’

  ‘Because I am not looking forward to seeing her? I am far too busy! I’m busy!’ There were no clean forks; May found some in the sink, and gave them a quick rinse under the tap. ‘Francine is expecting me to show her what I’ve done so far; I’m supposed to show her my outline next time I see her. I’m never going to get it done!’ She put the forks on the plates.

  ‘Okay. Well, tell Elizabeth you don’t want her to come.’

  ‘I can’t do that! It’s too late now; I’ve invited her! She’s my younger sister, my “little” sister.’ May made sarcastic little quote-marks in the air.

  ‘For sure.’

  May used to find it so cute – she took the glasses to the sitting room – when Jansen went ‘for sure’ like that; she’d found it kind of ‘American’ in the James Dean sense, and she’d told her so, too; it became a joke between them, and Jansen started using it, as a come-on line; but lately she seemed to be using it to indicate that May was being over-the-top hysterical. Which was a bit depressing. ‘I’ll have to just call her,’ May said, ‘damn it, and say, sorry but we’ll be out most of Saturday, so she’ll have to call me on my mobile or whatever, when she arrives in London, but not a good idea to invite Mark for that reason. I’ll do that.’

  ‘Whatever you like,’ Jansen called out; she was competing for pre-menstrual priority.

  May went to the bedroom to get the call over and done with.

  ‘It’ll be a bit late,’ Elizabeth told her. There was a pause. No one spoke. ‘Okay then!’ she finished, as if it were all settled. ‘So I’ll see you when I see you, yeah?’

  ‘And if we’re not in, maybe you can find a café nearby until we get back.’ May tapped the ball gently back into Elizabeth’s court.

  ‘Look,’ Elizabeth sounded put out, ‘what I’ll do is I’ll try to remember to have my mobile on, and you can give us a call when you get back. That’d be easier…’

  ‘Easier for…? Elizabeth, this is getting really complicated.’ She would have to ask the obvious. ‘When exactly will you be getting here?’

  Elizabeth laughed in an exasperated way. ‘It’s not my vehicle, May. Mark’s offered to take me all this way, which is pretty damn kind of him, isn’t it? I’m not gonna turn around now, and lay on any heavy time rules, am I?’

  ‘Uh huh. So, you don’t know when you’re leaving Cambridge?’

  ‘Is this a problem for you? This sounds like it’s a problem for you,’ Elizabeth accused.

  ‘Well, I do want to be able to go to bed at some point.’

  ‘All right, okay,’ Elizabeth’s tone indicated she was going to find a solution for this, ‘okay, but how early do you go to bed, anyway?’ She was ready to be shocked.

  May didn’t answer.

  ‘Leave a key out for me somewhere. We’ll be heading straight out again anyway; we’re gonna see if we can catch the end of a gig that one of Mark’s friends is playing in. Put the key under a mat, or above the door somewhere.’

  Jansen arrived then, and stood in the doorway, carrying two plates of steaming stir-fry, which she lifted up and down, mouthing ‘Dinner!’ May nodded dismissively, and returned to her call.

  ‘No, Elizabeth. This is London. We’re in Lon-don!’

  Jansen left the room.

  ‘Well, leave it with your next-door neighbour,’ Elizabeth suggested.

  ‘No, I don’t feel safe doing that.’

  ‘You’re making a really big deal out of this. I’ll call you when we’re leaving, okay, and if it’s late, sorry! What can I do? It’s only one night, for God’s sake!’

  15

  The Day before the Day

  Friday: it was dark
outside, but May woke up because she knew the alarm was seconds away; she switched it off. ‘The alarm’s gone off, by the way,’ she told Jansen (it was about to). She got out of bed. In less than twenty minutes she had to be out the door. School – non-life – started at 8 a.m.

  Elizabeth was coming round tomorrow evening. May noticed the basin was looking grimy. The soap tray needed cleaning; she did a few wipes with the flannel, squirting cleaner into the basin. That’s three minutes less I’ve got for breakfast, she thought. She went back into the bedroom, and stood looking in the mirror at her face: creased with fatigue, and set in a frown. She saw her reflection – this morning, the day before, the day before that – like a pack of cards being flicked through. Tired faces. ‘Every morning is just the same awful repeat,’ she announced to Jansen, who was lying in their warm bed, the duvet covering her chin. ‘I’m really not keen on this. Do we know how long she’s staying? Is she planning on getting a job?’

  Jansen said nothing, which was another way of saying something; she obviously had her not so silent opinion on this.

  ‘I guess you’re thinking it’s a good thing letting her come and stay?’ May continued.

  ‘I’m not thinking anything, May. I’ve just woken up.’

  ‘But what do you think about it? You do think something, obviously.’

  ‘Well, she’s not going to want to stay with us for ever. And in the meantime you might even enjoy some time together. It might be fun.’

  ‘Fun?’

  ‘Okay, it’s going to be awful. You’ve decided that already.’

  ‘You’re quite happy about it anyway; you always get on so beautifully together.’

  ‘Is that a problem? Would you rather I didn’t like your sister?’

  May looked at her watch. ‘You can’t give me a lift this morning, can you?’ More an accusation than a real question.

  ‘I can’t, May, no. I’ve got the Skoda. I’ve got to take it to the bin first and pick up one of the company cars… You do a great pout, by the way.’

  May nodded. ‘Hmm.’

  ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache, but my first pickup’s not till ten, so I can just have a slow start to the day. I might call Tamsin and see how her job-hunting’s going. Maybe, if she’s got another interview, she could come round here for dinner –’