by Anna Maxted
‘Chivvying along? Who always said that?’
Ollie rubbed his eyes roughly with the heel of his hands, as if he wanted to blind himself. ‘Roger always said it,’ he whispered. ‘Roger always said it about Mum.’ He shuddered.
A funny thing happens at Hound Dog Investigations, starting in November. People stop ringing us about their cheating husbands, cheating wives. Our matrimonial work tails off to nearly nothing. As Greg explained, ‘People don’t want to rock the boat before Christmas. They don’t want to ruin a family Christmas.’
That had to be the most pathetic thing I ever heard. That people thought like this. Not just one, misguided idiot – lots of them! I imagined these fools, waking up on opposing edges of the bed, exchanging spiteful gifts, miserably chewing sprouts, while the tree lights twinkled and the kids tried not to care that Mummy and Daddy didn’t talk. I couldn’t believe that the ritual of greed and the positive PR were so important to them that instead of doing themselves justice – banishing the traitor to a Traveller’s Inn to eat a festive dinner of turkey sandwich purloined from an Esso station – they preferred to suffer a lie, a wretched day of extravagant untruth, pretending to celebrate love and togetherness with a person they hated, cracking their face with a smile, all the while howling inside.
Now I had a less fascist perspective. I saw that people found it easier to bear their own unhappiness than to inflict it on their families. No one wants to rock the boat. Not at Christmas, not ever.
I’d rocked Oliver’s for him.
I was silent.
It wasn’t as if I ever saw more than what was in front of my face. Usually I didn’t even see that. It seemed as if most people didn’t. But I thought of Jude, and I didn’t want him to grow up like his father: with a miserable mother, feeling like his father didn’t care about him.
‘You must think I’m completely useless,’ said Oliver, finally raising his head.
‘You’re a bit annoying,’ I said. ‘I wouldn’t say you were useless.’
He laughed. ‘Thanks. You cow.’ He wiped his nose on his hand. ‘I knew things weren’t right with Gab. I feel like it’s my fault.’
‘Well, darling, it’s not your fault about the depression – OK, OK – whatever it is, but I think it starts to be when you know there’s something wrong but pretend to her and everyone that there isn’t.’
Oliver raised his eyebrows. ‘Listen, gobshite, you don’t know the … fear.’
‘Fear?’ I squeaked. ‘I know fear! Don’t tell me I don’t know fear! I—’
‘Fine. What are you afraid of?’
‘Well … I can’t sleep when the wardrobe doors are open.’
‘Thought so. Nothing. You couldn’t give me a serious answer. I’ll tell you what I’m afraid of.’ He shook his head; all speech seemed to stick in his throat. ‘That house,’ he said finally. ‘If I ever thought that I would make my family feel how I felt in that house … It’s like you can’t escape it. There was this one time, she didn’t feel well—’
‘Who? Gab?’
‘Mum. I was on the landing. I heard her, in their bedroom, she was crying, going, “Oh God, Roger, help me, I feel so ill.” I think I was about six. I was so scared. She never said things like that. She never complained. And he goes, “No, you don’t.” And she stopped crying. I heard him coming out of the bedroom and I ran to my room and hid in the cupboard.’
‘Did he scare you that much?’
‘Yes.’
‘He never … hit her … or you, did he?’
‘No. But you know his temper. He was such an angry man. It was a constant, underlying but barely contained. You could sense him bristling with it – you always felt like if you said the wrong thing he might hit you. The fear of … expecting to be hit was worse than being hit. His rage was all with her. She had this little china collection and he stamped into the room and swept it off the shelf – I can’t remember what she’d done – and I yelled at him, “Stop being mean to Mummy,” and he was shocked. He thought a child couldn’t see it. And then it felt like it spilt over to me. Especially after the affair. I liked Mr Coates. I was good at drama. I was the reason he met Mum in the first place. I didn’t really understand what was going on, but I sensed enough never to mention his name to Roger. If ever we had fun in that family it was because we had to. Grandma Nellie couldn’t stand him – she knew what he was like to her daughter: never malicious so that other people could see, but always malicious. But she was an old woman, she couldn’t do anything.’
‘If he was so horrible the whole time, then—’
‘He wasn’t horrible the whole time, that was the thing. We could go out for the day to, say, the zoo, and he’d be in a marvellous mood, and so would we all be, but mostly it would be relief. We’d seem relaxed but it was an act. You could never relax with him around. I spent the whole of my childhood tense. I don’t know if he realised his whole family were shit-scared of him. He didn’t act like it, but he must have known. And he was different with you. You were his mate.’
‘Oh, great. I was the partner in crime.’
‘You didn’t know. He had a different relationship with you. I think he genuinely adored you. Whereas I was competition, in a way. But he still used you against her.’
‘I know.’ I paused. ‘But they must have been happy once.’
Oliver laughed, a sad laugh. ‘Yes, but if so, it was before we came along.’
‘Poor you, Oliver. I expect you felt helpless.’
‘I don’t know. I was nice to Mum when I could be. I spent a lot of the time out of the house. But … yeah. You do feel helpless.’
‘Still?’
He said it so quietly. ‘Yes.’
‘But, Ollie, it’s different now. Gab isn’t Mum. You grew up in his house, but you’re not him. You’re not that helpless kid any more. You’re big and strong and you have the power to help Gab. You have it in you, Ol, to be a great husband and a really good dad. Just stop running away. There’s nothing to be afraid of.’
Chapter 44
I went home and Jack had called, saying he’d be back tomorrow, but to ring anyway. Yes! I thought, what about me? Even Superman needed Lois Lane to cuddle up to.
I rang him at his hotel, but he was out. I left a message. ‘Hello, Jack,’ I said to the machine. ‘I’m so glad you’re in LA. Because right now, I’m working full time on my peculiar family and frankly there aren’t enough hours in the day. Hope you’re OK though. Probably repulsed by all those thin, tanned, huge-boobed women. See you when you’re back. If I have time.’
I put down the phone and winced. I wasn’t great at electronic flirting. I always sounded serious, even if I was joking. Still. I shrugged, fell into bed, and slept fitfully; I was all talked out from being with Oliver. There are some people, touchy-feely conversations are their life-blood. You see them nodding earnestly, frowning in sorrow, big hug at the ready, as they feast on the tales of anguish sucked out of unwitting acquaintances. I’ve never been like that, even at work. I feel ashamed and nosy and vampirical, because I can’t help suspect that the listener experiences a little pleasure, along with all the horror and compassion. Perhaps it also depends on the teller.
Ollie had not enjoyed his trip down memory lane. He looked shaken after it. If Ollie had been a person who loved to talk about himself it would have been different. But every word was squeezed out like water from a twisted flannel. He hadn’t cried, thank God. He’d glazed over, not looked at me more than twice. It was painful to watch, painful to hear. He hadn’t wanted to tell me any of it. I’d made him dredge up a history, a version of himself that he had buried and tried to forget. I felt indecent witnessing his intense shame; it was like going to see a public hanging.
But he was more aware, now, of why he’d been behaving like he had, and maybe that would prompt him to change. Although, in my experience, people can be Ten Years’ Therapy Self-Aware and still behave like arseholes. Time would tell – which, of course, is absolutely no help to anyone.
Still, the information was stacking up. I had more understanding of my immediate family than ever before. I wasn’t yet convinced this was a good thing.
I spent the morning cleaning the flat. It was exercise, and it was boring, which freed my mind to think. I hadn’t heard from Roger – one would assume because he was too ashamed to call, but knowing him as I felt, alas, I did now, he was waiting for me to apologise. My poor mother, still living in that house with him.
I threw down the duster and called her mobile. What Ollie had said about her being ‘weird’ after I was born had sunk in, and it bothered me. Only when she answered did I realise I knew the number by heart.
‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m very well, thank you, Hannah. How are you?’
There was actually life in her voice.
‘Fine. I – is he there? – because if he is being unpleasant in any way at all, I—’
‘Hannah. Don’t worry about me. I know how to deal with your father. He’s spent very little time in the house since Wednesday.’
‘Oh. Where’s he been?’
‘At the office, I should imagine. I doubt he has anywhere else to go.’
She wasn’t normally so breezy, so self-assured. A thought occurred. ‘Tell me, what … er, whatever happened with the play?’
‘The play!’ Angela sounded amused. ‘Rosalind Emerson took my part. Jumped at it. She’s been dying to play opposite your father for years, but she’s taller than he is and the opportunity never seemed to arise.’
‘Did you mind?’
‘Oh, no! I asked her. It turned out quite well, for Inimitable Theatre, thank goodness. Roger forgot to advertise that I was no longer playing Miss Cooper, and all the tickets sold out. Which is, as you know, unheard of.’
‘What! Why?’
‘Hannah. You are sweet. You have this job, you like everyone to think that you’re this … cynical creature … and yet. The tickets sold out because everyone had heard about Jonathan turning up, after all this time, and how Roger and I reacted, and, well, it makes for additional drama. Real-life drama is always more exciting than staged.’
I was shocked. ‘Everyone? People knew about your affair? How?’
‘I don’t know. That was what Roger was most concerned about – that people would find out. I said, how could they? I didn’t think Jonathan would tell anyone. But … of course … now I think of it, Roger had involved you, and Ollie, poor little boy, was seven, and he knew something was up. So … other children tell their parents, and parents tell their friends … I suppose that’s what comes of living in a village. People are very vigilant of other people’s business. It was mortifying to realise that my … love affair was practically folklore. Although I almost felt sorry for Roger. He thought the secret had been kept. You know he didn’t play the last night?’
‘No!’
For Roger to forgo the bacchanalian excesses of the aftershow, he would have to be clinically certified brain dead, at least with embarrassment. The aftershow was where all sexual frustration, all the pent-up energy of being on stage could at last break loose. This was an orgy of adulation and self-congratulation, and as a man whose primal need was that other people thought well of him and told him so in public, Roger lived for the aftershow.
My mother giggled. Like hearing the Pope giggle. She said, ‘It’s a lot to take in.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘And how does it feel to be such an object of notoriety?’
‘The scarlet woman, you mean? I thought it would bother me; but it doesn’t. They don’t know one scrap about me, they only think they know. Half of them are cheating or being cheated on and they’re all agog because they know that it could have been them on that stage.’
‘They’re savages!’
‘Oh, no, Hannah! Don’t think that. People are scared. They look at their own lives. They think of their husbands, they think, is she after him?’
‘That’s ironic, seeing as half of them couldn’t care whether their husbands lived or died so long as the life insurance was in place.’
‘Hannah! You … you would be happier if you learnt to let go, rather than hang on tight to every little hurt. Imagine each hurt as a twig – you’re dragging round a forest! And let me say that one or two of the younger ladies I know have been sweet.’
I was tempted to say ‘that many?’ but didn’t. She sounded happier. If this poor, thin life was contentment, why should I pick holes in it?
I said goodbye, knowing that I hadn’t asked her about her depression, about her frowning at me when I was a baby. It was too much. I’d already bored my way into Oliver’s soul; it would have felt too impudent to intrude on my mother’s. What did I think I could do – fix it for her just by saying ‘I know’? There are some things in life you can’t fix. And yet. Sometimes an ‘I know’ can be deeply comforting. I suppose I wanted to undo twenty-five years of ill treatment in a few days.
*
It was no excuse. I waited in all evening and then tried Jack at home.
‘Hey, thanks for ringing me,’ I said.
‘I’ve just got in from the airport! Also, that message. I thought I’d leave you be. How is everything?’
‘That’s what I’m ringing about.’
There was a pause. Then he said, ‘Do you want to go for lunch tomorrow?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘OK. But not that celebrity place I met you the other time.’
‘Quite. Where then?’
I know nowhere to eat. Fred’s Books, but that’s it, and strictly speaking that’s only half a place to eat. Beyond Fred’s – despite having lived in one of the world’s greatest cities for thirty-odd years – I haven’t a clue where is good. Once I resorted to Time Out and ended up eating tacos on a main road.
‘The café in Regent’s Park?’
‘Isn’t there more than one?’
‘You know. That one near the fountain. And the ducks.’
‘That narrows it down.’
‘There’s an international business school near the entrance.’
‘You’re a pain in the ass, Special. I’ll take a cab. See you at the café at one. Take your mobile in case—’
‘Jack. Locating people is my job.’
‘Hah!’ said Jack, and put the phone down.
The next day, against the odds, we found each other.
I bought cheese sandwiches for us both, and we walked to the fountain and sat on a lichen-covered bench. I launched into tales of my family. What I’d discovered.
‘I need you to give me Jonathan’s number,’ I said. ‘I have to speak to him, find out about Angela’s state of mind, when the affair started, what she told him about Roger. She must have confided in him. I should find out what he knows. And, find out whether he’s planning to see her again. It was so selfish and blundering, what he did—’
‘Wait. Stop.’
I stopped. Stared at him. Sitting on that bench, he made it look smaller than it was. ‘What?’
‘Ratfink, don’t you think you’ve discovered enough?’
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well … you wanted to find out the truth about Roger, and Angela, and you and Oliver. And you have.’
‘Yes. And no. There’s still a lot I don’t know. Angela wouldn’t tell me that much, and Oliver – he only talked a little about what it was like. Martine was helpful. She helped piece a lot together.’
‘But why do you want to know every forensic detail? You’ve found what you need to know: why Angela might have had the affair.’
‘Yes. Because she’d been depressed for so long and Roger was so cruel to her in that casual, dismissive way of his.’
‘I’m sure that was a big part of it. And now you see that she had, in a way, justification for doing what she did. I know that’s important to you. No one wants to hate their mother. But here’s a thing.’
‘What?’
Jack took my hand. ‘You’ll never know, Special, because you’re not Angela, and she isn’t going t
o tell you. And I’m not giving you Jonathan’s number—’
I snatched my hand away. ‘Jack, I can get Jonathan’s number. I thought I’d ask you as a courtesy.’
‘Is this why you wanted to see me?’
‘Well, yes. I need to speak to Jonathan and—’
‘And I am saying that you are not going speak to Jonathan.’
‘Why? You were all for it the other day.’
‘At that point I didn’t realise you knew the truth about your dad. But you do, and so now, to ask Jonathan anything more about their affair would be rude and pointless.’
I threw a fat wood pigeon crumbs from my sandwich. Jack was annoying me.
‘Look,’ I said. ‘I am very angry with Jonathan. What right did he have to come back like that, like a ghost? He thought he still loved her is bullshit.’
‘Hannah. You don’t have to take care of all business. Just trust people to … look after themselves. Why can’t we talk about us? All their stuff is getting in the way.’
I ignored this last comment and said, ‘I don’t know why I should trust people to look after themselves. They never have before. And my mother’s stuff is my stuff.’ I glared at him. He didn’t seem to understand that I couldn’t be fine until she was fine. ‘Angela called me “sweet”,’ I added. ‘I don’t know how she could. I feel mean. Mean as a snake.’
Jack shook his head. ‘You were little and you wanted to please your dad. You’re the only one who thinks you’re unusually mean. You’re normal mean. You’re not special mean.’
‘Yeah?’ I scowled at the ground. ‘I’m glad Roger’s suffering now. Ha ha har.’
Jack looked surprised. ‘Why, when did you last speak to Angela?’
‘Just before you arrived. She said everyone in the Suburb knows the happy family was a charade, and always did know. I think, thanks to me and Ollie blabbing our mouths off at school. So Roger thinks he’s a laughing stock, not respected at all. He’s almost too embarrassed to be seen – he’s hiding at the office. Bet they’re surprised to see him; he’s about as regular as a blue moon at that firm.’