by Mia Farlane
‘There is something gnawing away at you, a desire. Look up the word “rat” in the dictionary,’ Francine told her. ‘The rat is a survivor. It’s a very good sign, this dream. You can be happy with it.’
May listened. She didn’t believe what Francine was saying, but she listened anyway.
‘You are quite capable of doing this PhD: I know that, but you don’t; and you won’t know it, you won’t know you can do it, until you’ve done it; so you must persevere. It’s the only thing to do when it’s like that. Come to the book launch,’ she concluded. ‘You need to meet people.’ (Bullet point two was covered.)
‘And what about you? Have you had any dreams?’ May enquired.
Yes, Francine had had two very interesting dreams: one was about a smashed ceiling and the Cyrillic alphabet flying out. ‘It was as if there was no centre of gravity,’ she said.
‘Did the dream mean something?’ May asked.
‘Of course it meant something.’ Francine did not go on to explain what; either May was supposed to know what the dream meant, or it wasn’t her business to know. ‘I’ll see you at the launch. You can come to dinner at my place the following evening.’
‘Wonderful.’ May’s throat hurt.
‘You have read L’Ange et les pervers – now I suggest you think about the status, or the “value”, of the feminine in this novel. I also recommend you get hold of a copy of Gabriel. There are comparisons to be made between the two works.’
‘Gabriel.’
‘By George Sand. Your supervisor, is she coming to the book launch?’
‘No.’ (Bullet point number three. May folded up the scrap of paper, leaned over and dropped it in the waste-paper basket.)
‘No? Well, you’ll report back to her, no doubt, you will tell her what she has missed!’
‘Yes.’
Francine laughed. ‘Bon courage!’ she said. ‘Until very soon.’
21
The Little Holiday
‘This is heavy! What have you got in here?’ Jansen flipped open the suitcase.
‘Some books to read.’
‘How many? We’re only going away for two nights.’ Jansen started rifling through the bag like a Customs Officer.
‘I won’t know what I feel like reading until I get there, so I’ve taken a selection.’
‘You’ve taken a library!’ Jansen pulled out a large book, and held it in her palm, as if she were trying to guess how much it weighed. ‘Histoire du féminisme français? – no, May, you’re not going to read this.’
‘I am.’ May took the book from her, and put it back into the suitcase.
‘Lélia, or the Life of George Sand!’ Jansen read out. ‘Methodology in Qualitative Research: I feel as if I’m going on a study weekend. This is meant to be a holiday. Take one book, and I bet you won’t even read that. You’re not going to read all of these.’
‘I will. I’ll read bits from all of them.’
‘What’s this?’ Jansen had discovered Francine’s essays. ‘You’re taking all of her articles?’ She pulled out the folder. ‘I’m not helping to pull this bag, unless you get rid of something.’
‘I can’t get rid of that. That’s the most important thing.’ May took the folder from Jansen and put it back into the suitcase.
‘Put it in another bag, May – I’m not carrying her essays.’
‘You’ve got a real problem with Francine, haven’t you? What’s your problem?’
‘If you want to take all these books, and her essays, you can be in charge of the bag. That’s all I’m saying.’
‘You’ve got these heavy shoes here – I’d say that’s as heavy as three books at least.’ May held up the plastic bag with Jansen’s shoes in them. ‘And you’ve got these slippers; why do you need these? Ah! And there’s a book in here: The Gnostic Gospels.’
‘I’m taking one book.’
‘Wait a minute’ – May hovered her right hand over the book, touching her forehead with the other, in feigned concentration – ‘I’m picking something up here… I’m sensing this is a gift – from a Christian? I’m picturing someone in a checked shirt –’
‘I bought it myself, May. I found it at the bookstall under Waterloo Bridge.’
‘That afternoon you were with Tamsin!’ May completed Jansen’s sentence. ‘I knew it: she didn’t buy it for you, but she recommended it though, didn’t she? And you’re reading it because she thought it was interesting, and you want to please her.’
‘That’s really insulting, May. I’m reading it because I would like to read it, because it interests me.’
‘And because of Tamsin.’
‘Tamsin is not particularly interested’ – Jansen delved into the suitcase again, and took out Francine’s essays – ‘in Gnosticism, if you want to know.’
‘Could I –’ May made a failed grab for the essays. ‘Could I have that back, please?’
Jansen shook her head.
‘Please, would you give it to me!’ May tried to wrench the folder out of Jansen’s grip. ‘It’s MINE!’ Jansen wasn’t going to give it to her. ‘Okay then.’ May kneeled down abruptly on the floor next to the bag. ‘Okay,’ she said, as if she were dealing with an un reasonable toddler. ‘Perhaps I just won’t go.’ She took out the history book and thumped it onto the floor. ‘I’m too busy for this anyway.’ She took out the George Sand, her pyjamas, the boring methodology book… ‘And you can have a nice empty bag all to yourself.’ May wanted to go on the train with Jansen. She loved going on little weekends away with her. They’d had an amazing few days in Wales one time; they visited the house of the Ladies of Llangollen, and read out bits from Under Milk Wood together in bed. ‘I’ll see you in a couple of days,’ May said.
‘If you don’t want to come – here is your precious folder,’ Jansen made a grand gesture out of handing it back to her – ‘I’ll go on my own.’ She took her jacket off a hanger in the wardrobe, put it on, and wrapped a scarf around her neck.
Now, if May wanted to go to Bexhill, she’d have to back down immediately; she’d have to apologize about her Neanderthal communication skills. ‘I just don’t like being bullied,’ she began – it was better tactically, she decided, not to come across as entirely in the wrong – ‘into deciding, in advance, what I’m going to read.’ She put everything back into the bag. ‘I would still like to come.’
‘Right.’ Jansen left the room; she was going to be in a bad mood for a while, possibly the whole train trip – as long as she hadn’t just decided that May could go on her own…
May followed her to the other room: Jansen was sitting on the sofa, she still had her jacket and scarf on, and she was staring ahead at something.
‘What are you doing?’
‘What do you think I’m doing? I am waiting for you to get ready. We have to leave in five minutes.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Choose what you’d like to take with you: either you bring a book, or Francine’s papers.’
May went back to the bedroom. She took the history book out of the suitcase again, and the one on research, hesitated, then put the history book back, and took out the biography, and finally, after thinking about it some more, swapped the biography for the history book again. She put Francine’s articles back at the bottom of the case. ‘Okay.’ She appeared, tight-lipped, at the door of the sitting room, with the bag standing next to her. ‘I’m ready.’
Jansen got up off the sofa. ‘You’ve chosen one thing?’ she verified.
‘One book, yes.’
‘Thank you.’
They left the flat.
‘But I didn’t take out Francine’s articles,’ May added, once they were sitting on the train, and the suitcase was lying on the seat in front of them. ‘Because they don’t count.’ May smiled. ‘I took out two books.’ She made the peace sign.
‘Fine. Then you’ll be the one in charge of the suitcase.’ Jansen took the cup off the Thermos, unscrewed the lid, and poured tea into the cup.
‘No! You’ve got your shoes in there, i
f you remember. We’re both in charge.’
Jansen smiled at May’s reaction. ‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘but I did tell you I wouldn’t help with it, unless you took some things out.’
‘I took out two books,’ May repeated.
‘Mm. I’m not interested, May.’ Jansen had a sip of tea.
‘I wanted to have the option of reading something other than Francine’s writing, and I couldn’t not bring her work: because I’m going to the book launch on Thursday, and she said to bring questions.’
‘I’m not interested.’
‘And because I might be quizzed on her writing. So I need to be really familiar with it. Before Thursday.’
‘No one’s going to quiz you on her writing. You’re going to a book launch!’
‘Well, anyway. That’s why I had to bring her articles.’
Jansen said nothing.
‘So, we’ll take turns with the bag.’
‘I don’t want to talk about this, May. I’d like to enjoy the journey.’
‘So would I. And I’d just like to know you’re going to help with the suitcase.’
‘Are you going to stop talking about this? Because otherwise I’m moving to another seat,’ Jansen said.
‘Are you going to be fair about the bag? Because otherwise I’m changing carriages.’
‘You always have to go one up, don’t you?’
‘You’ve got a pair of heavy shoes and you’ve got that book Tamsin wants you to read.’
‘Do you want this tea?’ Jansen asked.
May shook her head.
Jansen started pouring the rest of the tea back into the Thermos.
‘What are you doing?’
Jansen screwed the lid back on, and stood up. ‘I’m changing seats.’
May raised her eyebrows, she clicked her tongue. ‘Don’t bother.’ She stood up. ‘I’m changing carriages.’ She heaved the bag off the seat, and started pulling it down the aisle, past a man and a woman and probably their teenage daughter. ‘You’re being unfair,’ May called back to Jansen, who had sat back in her seat. ‘I don’t see why I’m the one who’s taking this.’ May went into the next carriage.
They met up again at Bexhill. Jansen was further down the platform; May went past, pretending she hadn’t seen her.
‘Hello,’ said Jansen, walking alongside May. ‘Do I know you?’
May kept on walking.
‘Can I help you with your bag? It looks heavy.’
May ignored her.
‘Windy weather, isn’t it? I’m spending a couple of nights here,’ Jansen continued. ‘I’m staying at a bed and breakfast. What about you? Where are you going?’
‘Very funny,’ May said. ‘You know I have no idea.’ She stopped walking, and passed the bag to Jansen.
‘What’s in here?’ Jansen asked.
‘Ha-ha,’ May said. ‘Thank you for taking it.’
‘I’ll pull it halfway,’ Jansen specified.
They left the station.
‘It’s not very warm down here, is it?’ Jansen said. ‘I’m glad I brought my slippers; your bones feel the cold when you get to our age.’
‘I’m still feeling annoyed with you,’ May warned her. ‘I’m not in the mood for jokes.’
‘And I am still annoyed with you – just to let you know. This morning, I was that close to calling Francine. I am not going to put up with this for much longer.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘I am letting you know – how – I – feel.’
‘You’re threatening me, that’s what you’re doing.’
‘No, I am not threatening you. I wish you would listen.’
‘This is a lovely holiday. Relaxing.’
Jansen stopped, unzipped the suitcase, and took out a map.
‘Could you not have worked that out earlier?’ May said. ‘Now we look like tourists.’
‘We are tourists, May. That is what we are: tour-ists.’
‘Speak for yourself.’
‘Would you like to be in charge of directions?’ Jansen asked.
‘No, I would not like to be in charge of directions,’ May said. ‘As you know.’
‘Right. So please leave me to work this out. Can you see any street names?’
‘Do you want me to answer that? Even though it would mean I was helping you?’
‘Sea Road,’ Jansen had found the name. She looked it up on her map.
‘Isn’t it just towards the sea?’ May said. ‘We just head towards the sea.’
Jansen continued studying the map.
‘How hard can it be?’ May added.
Jansen handed her the map.
‘What?’ May had the map in her hand now.
‘Over to you,’ Jansen said.
May didn’t look at it. ‘You know where you’re going,’ she said, ‘so let’s go.’
Jansen said nothing.
‘You know where we’re going, so there’s no point in my looking at the map.’
‘The street you are looking for is Albany Road,’ Jansen said.
‘You know the way,’ May said, ‘and you know I hate maps.’
Jansen sat down on the suitcase.
‘Hello, ladies!’ the owner of the bed and breakfast greeted them in a plastic voice.
‘Hello,’ said Jansen. ‘We’re booked under “Andersen”,’ she told the woman.
‘Oh yes!’ The woman remembered the name; she opened her A4-sized diary at the desk. ‘Oh?’ She paused. ‘I could offer you a twin – if you’d prefer?’
‘We have booked, haven’t we?’ Jansen verified. She leaned forward a bit and looked at the large diary on the desk.
‘Yes, oh yes, you have booked, that’s fine,’ the woman said, ‘but we’re actually not quite fully booked this weekend, so if you’d prefer a twin, I could offer you a twin.’
‘No thanks. We’re happy with the double,’ Jansen said.
‘You haven’t got two singles?’ May enquired.
The woman had another brief look in her diary. ‘No, I’m afraid not,’ she said. ‘We’ve only got one single left, but I could offer you a twin and a single, for the price of two singles,’ she proposed. ‘If that’s helpful.’
‘What would be the difference in price between that and the double?’ May asked.
‘Oh, yes, it would be a bit more expensive,’ the woman regretted to say. ‘But the twin would be exactly the same price as the double. And they’re both en suite.’
‘How much would two doubles be?’ May asked.
‘Two doubles?’ The woman was trying to work this out.
‘We’d like one double,’ Jansen said. ‘The one we’ve booked, please.’
‘No, yes, of course.’ The woman smiled; she looked nervous. ‘Room three then.’
May smiled; she was still angry with Jansen.
‘Good!’ The woman turned round to take key number three off its hook; and May aimed a brief over-accentuated smile at Jansen, who did not smile back.
‘Who should I give this to?’ the woman asked brightly.
May reached out to take it. ‘Thank you very much,’ she said, and she smiled again.
Sachets of coffee, tea and sugar, mini plastic containers of UHT milk, and two china teacups cradled together on a couple of saucers on a tray; a black leather folder next to that, containing pamphlets about Bexhill’s restaurants and attractions. The bed was puffy-duvet soft; there was a large armchair; a view of the sea; and a desk with a television on it. Jansen lay down on the bed with the remote.
‘We’re not going to watch television, are we?’
‘I’m seeing what’s on.’
‘There’s nothing on!’ May said.
Jansen flicked through the channels – four or five of them – and landed on Trisha.
‘No! Oh God I can’t bear that!’ May said.
Jansen flicked back to an advertisement for hair-removal. She switched off the television. ‘May, I need a bit of space. If you want to go out, I’m going to stay here
for a bit and watch TV.’
‘It’s the middle of the day.’
Jansen switched the television back on, and May sat in the armchair; she took out her Life of George Sand.
Later they had lunch at a little café on a road that had an Oxfam, a Cancer Research and a British Red Cross on it; so they browsed in those for a while, and Jansen found a cookbook. Then they walked in the wind all the way along the beach of stones; Jansen zipped up her windbreaker and gave her scarf to May, who snuggled into her, and they sang Bee Gees songs into the wind, and Abba. Jansen sang ‘The beach is alive with the sound of seagulls’ and ‘What are we going to do about Booboo?’ And then they found a tearoom – Jansen paid.
In the evening, May bought Chinese takeaways, and they went back to their room and lay in bed, watching the news: a crumbling cottage somewhere near Belfast was being saved, as the result of a local campaign; May and Jansen got all weepy together over that, and May made them their second cup of coffee.
22
Tamsin Again
The morning after they returned from their weekend away, Jansen suggested they stay inside all day: the weather was grotty – grey and rain – and Elizabeth wasn’t back from wherever she’d gone the night before last.
At about three in the afternoon, Jansen went out to get them something yummy from Arif ’s on the Walworth Road, while May stayed at the flat to set the table and put the kettle on, and then wait around for Jansen to get back.
Tap-TAP! May went to the door. She was still in her pyjamas. She had thought it would be Jansen of course.
It was Tamsin, dressed as if she’d just been for a jog, in green tracksuit pants and yellow wet-weather jacket.
‘May!’ Tamsin shot her head forward, like a goose. She put a note back into her jacket pocket, and started taking off her rucksack. She was expecting to be invited in. ‘I didn’t think anyone would be at home! Are you here on your own?’
‘Jansen’s just gone off to get lunch; she’ll be back in a minute.’
‘Oh, great!’ Tamsin was thrilled. She put her rucksack on the ground, knelt on the doorstep, unzipped her bag, and pulled out a bottle of water.
‘Come in,’ May said.