The Goddess Workshop

by Margaret K Johnson

  It was a different matter trying to do the same for herself though; if she didn’t keep constantly busy, a nagging voice bearing a remarkable similarity to her mother’s started up inside her head, giving her a hard time about it. ‘Who d’you think you are? The devil makes trouble for idle hands!’

  The voice was there now, but somehow today even that wasn’t enough to motivate her. Reenie had woken up feeling unaccountably depressed, and somehow she couldn’t seem to shake the feeling off.

  Sitting at her kitchen table with a cooling cup of coffee in front of her, Reenie allowed herself the painful luxury of thinking about her son. Handsome, vital Craig, with a lot of her energy and all of Ted’s laid-back charm. Right from a toddler he had done everything and anything he wanted and somehow managed to persuade her that was the way it should be. He’d even managed to win her mother over, more often than not.

  What would he be doing now, if he hadn’t died? Would he be at college like Marcia? Working? Married even? In her imagination, Reenie pictured him in each role, mentally changing his clothes to suit, a bit like the mix and match people game one of her grandsons had. Both she and Ted had always had high hopes for their son, especially Ted. A bus driver for the majority of his working life, Ted had wanted more for Craig; a trade of some sort; something skilled. Reenie had just wanted her son to be happy. And he had been happy. She knew that ought to be some sort of compensation for his short life, but it wasn’t.

  The phone began to ring. Reenie sat and stared at it, wanting to have the guts to ignore it for once. She didn’t want to speak to anybody. She didn’t want to be happy-go-lucky Reenie, always available for a chat. If she ignored it, then whoever it was might give up and go away.

  But they didn’t. On and on it rang, until she began to think about all the bad news it could be bringing – Ted’s coach crashed, Marcia flipped again at college, something wrong with one of the grandchildren – and she snatched the receiver up.

  ‘Reenie? It’s Kate.’

  Marcia then.

  ‘What’s she done?’

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. ‘Who?’ Kate sounded confused.

  ‘Marcia,’ Reenie said. ‘That is why you’ve rung, isn’t it? To tell me she’s lost it again?’

  ‘No!’ Kate said sounding surprised now. ‘Marcia’s fine.’

  ‘Oh,’ Reenie said doubtfully.

  ‘Honestly, Reenie, she is. She’s settled back in just as if nothing ever happened.’

  ‘Right,’ said Reenie. ‘Good.’ But she still wasn’t convinced. There was definitely something wrong; she could tell from Kate’s voice.

  ‘It’s Geoff,’ Kate told her at last, her voice unusually quiet for her.

  Reenie frowned. ‘He hasn’t had an accident has he?’

  ‘No, nothing like that.’ Kate paused, and this time Reenie waited. ‘He’s asked me out.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘He asked me out to dinner. On a date,’ Kate said miserably.

  Reenie closed her eyes and sighed. No accidents then, just a bit of love angst. ‘Well, that’s good isn’t it?’ she said, feeling the adrenalin drain away from her body.

  ‘Is it?’ Kate said miserably.

  Reenie summoned up a smile from somewhere. Kate suddenly sounded about Marcia’s age or younger. ‘Of course it is,’ she said encouragingly. ‘He’s a nice man; you like him; I can’t see what the problem is.’

  ‘He’s my mate!’ Kate said miserably. ‘My best mate. What if we go out and it doesn’t work out?’

  ‘Well think about it the other way,’ Reenie said patiently. ‘What if you go out and it’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you? You’ll never know if you don’t try, will you?’

  There was silence as Kate turned this over for a while. When she spoke again, her voice was sulky. ‘I don’t think I want to go out with anyone ever again,’ she said, and Reenie suddenly remembered what Jade had told her friend about needing to let go of the past.

  ‘Why don’t you go, love?’ she said. ‘Geoff isn’t like your Ian; he’s not going to hurt you. If it doesn’t feel right, you can just go back to being friends, can’t you? Look, I’ve got to go – there’s somebody at the door. Let me know how it turns out, won’t you?’

  Kate still sounded miserable. ‘All right,’ she said and hung up.

  It wasn’t like Reenie to tell lies, especially to friends; there was nobody at the door. But thinking about Jade’s advice to Kate had reminded Reenie of what Jade had said to her about needing to finish grieving for Craig.

  And suddenly she knew exactly what she had to do.

  * * * * *

  Kate replaced the telephone receiver despondently. She’d thought Reenie of all people would understand how she felt, but why should she? Married to the same man for God only knew how many years; OK, so she’d had a bad time with her son dying, but she’d never experienced divorce. Reenie had married Ted expecting to be with him for the rest of her life, and that was exactly the way it was panning out for her.

  Ted hadn’t gone off with Reenie’s best mate. Shagged her in the marital bed. Didn’t look down his nose at her as if to say ‘I can’t believe I was ever married to you.’ Ted cherished Reenie, loved her. All right, he couldn’t give her orgasms, but he wanted to.

  Reenie didn’t have a clue what it was like to have to learn to trust all over again. She didn’t know how difficult it had been for Kate to let down her barriers enough to become friends with anybody post-divorce, let alone contemplate being anybody’s lover. And not anybody, but Geoff.

  And worst of all, it was already too late; that’s what she would have said if Reenie hadn’t been so eager to get off the phone. Even without her having gone out on a date with Geoff, everything had already changed. Because he’d asked her out, whether she went or not, things would never be the same between them again. They’d be all awkward and strange with each other. The days of playfully taking the piss and being able to be herself with Geoff were gone forever.

  Kate was meant to be teaching a class late after-noon, but instead she rang in sick and headed for the pub.

  ‘All alone today?’ the barman asked her, pouring her a pint. ‘Where are your partners in crime?’

  Kate just grunted, downing the pint and gesturing for a refill.

  ‘Like that is it?’ the barman asked, raising his eye-brows, but she ignored him, paying for the drinks and going to sit in a corner on her own. It was all Ian’s fault. He was the one who had made her so distrustful, so allergic to relationships. Even if Reenie was right, and Geoff was the man she should be with, she was so pathetically insecure these days she was one hundred percent certain to mess it up.

  She was damned if she went out with Geoff and damned if she didn’t.

  * * * * *

  It was harder to put the loft ladder up than Reenie had expected. Ted always managed to do it in about two seconds flat, but Reenie had never tried before, and it took her a while to realise how to slide the extension bit up so the ladder was long enough to reach the hatch cover. She finally managed it, but the minute she put her foot on the bottom rung, the extension part slipped down again, bringing the whole ladder down with an almighty crash. Fortunately Reenie wasn’t hurt, though she was shaken, but she was so determined to get up into the roof she made herself try again.

  Most of Craig’s belongings were in boxes in the roof, exactly where Ted had stored them a few months after the funeral. They’d cleared them from his bedroom, but they hadn’t been able to face throwing anything away. The boxes had been up there ever since. Too long. And now she’d decided to do some-thing about them, Reenie was in no mood to wait until Ted came home to help her. It was best if she did it on her own anyway. Ted would be too upset. She fully expected to be pretty upset herself, but it had to be done, and now was the time to do it. It was the only way she could think of to try to get some peace.

  So she picked up the ladder and took a little time to examine it, noticing as she did so a
couple of clips on the sides – presumably for securing the extension part into place. Then she tried again, this time testing the ladder carefully by pushing the rungs firmly with her hands before putting any weight onto it.

  When she was sure it was safe, she climbed up slowly and pushed at the loft hatch, sliding it across just as she had seen Ted do. Then she squeezed herself up through the space into the darkness, trying not to think about spiders.

  Sitting there, panting, Reenie resisted the temptation to look down, trying to remember where the light switch was. Too late she realised she should have brought a torch with her, but there was no way she was going back down again now. Feeling around carefully with her hand, she finally located the switch and pressed it. The loft was instantly filled with light.

  Yes! But Reenie’s sense of satisfaction was short-lived, swamped by far messier feelings as she gazed at the neat stack of boxes on the other side of the roof space. The boxes were all that was left of her son; that and his gravestone and the ongoing feud with Louise’s family.

  Drawing in a ragged breath, Reenie got up and began to walk across the roof space. But unfortunately her thoughts were so entirely focused on the boxes she forgot about the limited roof clearance. Bumping her head sharply on a rafter, Reenie fell with a little cry, her ankle turning painfully beneath her.

  Twenty-five

  Estelle couldn’t stop shivering on her way home from Cambridge Police Station. It had all been so…tawdry: that thug manhandling her out of the summerhouse, the indignity of being bundled into the back seat of the police car, the interrogation in the bleak interview room with the compulsory WPC in attendance, and finally a night in the police cells. She felt as if she’d lived through sixteen episodes of The Bill and been the accused in every one of them.

  ‘Is there anyone you’d like to phone Ms Morgan?’ the cold-eyed sergeant had asked her, placing a deliberately sarcastic emphasis on the word Ms.

  ‘No thank you.’ Estelle had sat bolt upright on the hard wooden chair, her blood-flecked hands folded in her lap and with no outward sign of the total turmoil going on inside her head. Who could she ring? In the whole world, who could Estelle Morgan phone to say ‘I’ve done something really stupid. Please, come and help me.’ No one. Not even her new friends. Nobody knew her like this. She didn’t know herself like this. Dangerous. Depressed. Vulnerable.

  And so she’d listened and responded as required, all with that icy cool demeanour, even while her intelligent mind knew full well that she would be much more sympathetically treated if she could only break down and cry; blurt out the truth about why she’d done what she’d done. They’d probably even have let her off if she’d done that. Even that brute at the house might have thought twice about pressing charges if she’d been a heartbroken, unstable female in the throes of a nervous breakdown.

  But as it was, she had been charged with criminal damage in the presence of an unsympathetic lawyer and forced to pay bail in order to be set free. And in the future there would be a court case; her name in the papers. But worse than all of that was the bitter knowledge that none of it had done any good anyway. She hadn’t left the past behind, and maybe she never would. Not even if she could smash every pane of glass in East Anglia.

  ‘Cold, crazy bitch,’ she heard the sergeant say to a colleague under his breath as she walked with dignity from the police station, and Estelle knew he had a point. She was damaged goods. Deficient. And she always would be.

  * * * * *

  Janet had spent most of the day at work thinking about oral sex. Cruella (Janet always thought about her boss as Cruella these days) had been out all day, and business had been slow, so there had been plenty of time to think. As far as Janet could remember, those distant times when she and Ray had tried oral sex were the closest she had come to having an orgasm. There had been a definite flicker, she remembered, even if it had quickly been extinguished when Ray had thrust his penis into her face, silently demanding ‘his turn.’

  She could remember she hadn’t enjoyed doing it to him very much. He hadn’t seemed to appreciate the fact that she had tonsils in the back of her throat, and had become irritated when she gagged what he considered to be once too often. And she really hadn’t known what she was supposed to do. Why should she? He didn’t tell her, and she had never done it with anybody else. It was hardly the kind of thing to discuss with friends like Gwen. Of course if she’d known the girls in those days, then it would have been quite another matter.

  But she did know them now, and although they hadn’t as yet covered oral sex at the workshops, surely it couldn’t be too difficult? As the dull day at the shop went on, Janet decided she wanted to have another try. If she did it to Ray, then he might do it to her. And maybe this time she would be lucky. If not, then she would at least have something to discuss with the girls. She might even pick up some helpful tips… Somehow she thought Estelle was probably something of an expert at it.

  Janet smiled to herself naughtily. She was changing. Had changed. And it was about time Ray knew about it.

  * * * * *

  Estelle’s answer phone message light was flashing crazily when she got back to the flat. Automatically she pressed the play button. The first two messages were from Charlotte.

  ‘Ms Morgan? It’s Charlotte. I’ll try to reach you on your mobile.’

  ‘Ms Morgan, it’s Charlotte again. I’ve left a message on your mobile as well. The clients from Stockholm have arrived and I was wondering when we could expect you.’

  Shit! How the hell could she have forgotten? She’d been weeks setting up the meeting with the Larssons! The deal was potentially very lucrative and she had let it slip her mind. Frantically Estelle looked at her watch. Almost three o’clock. Maybe there was still time. Maybe the Larssons hadn’t left yet.

  The voice of Mark, her sales manager, suddenly filled the room. ‘Estelle, it’s Mark. Just to say I’ve taken Freda and Artur to the Saracen Hotel for a late lunch. I told them you’ve been unavoidably detained and will join us as soon as possible. Call me as soon as you get this message.’

  Snatching her mobile from her bag, Estelle quickly dialled Mark’s number. ‘Mark? It’s Estelle.’

  ‘Estelle! Hi! We’ve been worried about you.’ She could hear the sound of laughter in the background, but couldn’t tell if he was in a bar or just back in the office with the staff laughing and bitching about her.

  ‘Where are you?’ she asked.

  ‘Still in the Saracen. Are you joining us?’

  Estelle paused. Her face and hands were covered with cuts and her clothes were splashed in blood. She desperately needed a shower.

  ‘Freda and Artur would really like to meet you.’ Even in Estelle’s fragile state she could detect the meaning behind her sales manager’s words. ‘Get here or the deal’s off.’

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Give me half an hour.’ And she hung up.

  * * * * *

  Up in the loft, Reenie sat in the dust with her swollen ankle stuck out in front of her, looking through a box of Craig’s toys. They were all there – he’d never wanted her to throw anything away. Sentimental as they come, he’d been. All his Action Men and his toy diggers and his remote control racing car… Even his teddy bear from his toddler days; a poor excuse for a bear now, all threadbare and grimy with one ear torn off.

  Hugging the bear to her face, Reenie thought about her bright, happy son at age two, trying to conjure him up from the smell of the bear. Whereas Marcia had been content to amuse herself a lot of the time, when she wasn’t being dragged into one of her brother’s games, Craig had been into everything. It had been a full-time job keeping tabs on him. Right from the start he’d been determined to live life with a capital L.

  But there was no trace of all that vitality left here. The bear just smelt old and musty. Like decay.

  Very gently, Reenie put the bear back in the box and moved on to the next one. A stamp album. A school project about leaves, Craig’s juvenile writing sloping d
own towards the right of the pages. Copper Beech with Beech spelt Beach and crossed out and corrected. Running out of space for the word Willow, the final W continuing on the line underneath. A fragile brown leaf crumbling beneath its covering of clear sticky back plastic. A board game about pirates that Craig had started to make one rainy weekend, with pictures of guns and cannons and cutlasses.

  Tears running down her face, Reenie traced the X that marked the location of the pirate treasure on a crudely drawn island. How could any of these precious, priceless things be thrown away? Ever?

  * * * * *

  Estelle’s clothes were crisp and fresh, but there was nothing she could do about the state of her face and hands. Entering the bar at the Saracen Hotel, she saw Mark and the Larssons straight away. Switching on a smile, she walked as steadily as she could across the room.

  ‘Freda, Artur; I am so sorry to be late.’

  They were all looking at her with shock, especially Mark. Freda took Estelle’s outstretched hand automatically but clutched it rather than shook it.

  ‘Estelle!’ she said. ‘What has happened to you?’

  Estelle shifted her gaze to locate a chair, quickly disentangling her hand. ‘Oh, just a little car accident,’ she said as breezily as she could. ‘Nothing to worry about.’

  Mark’s eyes were boring into hers. ‘Are you sure you’re all right, Estelle?’

  There was genuine concern in his voice, and unwanted emotion rose in her throat. She did what she always did in such circumstances – took refuge in hostility.