Selfish People

by Lucy English

  ‘Sally’ll be furious.’

  ‘I don’t bloody care about Sally!’

  The children arrived on Saturday, an hour later than Leah and Al had arranged. They were grubby in dirty clothes but generally buoyant. Al looked like somebody who hadn’t eaten, slept or washed for a week.

  ‘How are you?’ said Leah, genuinely concerned.

  ‘How do you fucking think I am?’

  ‘Won’t you come in for a tea?’

  ‘I’m not coming into your love nest.’

  ‘Al, Clive’s my landlord.’ She lowered her voice. Clive was showing the children the wonders of the remote-control TV. ‘Perhaps we could meet in the week.’

  ‘You don’t understand. I don’t want to see you!’ If it had been his door he would have slammed it in her face. He stormed off up the road.

  ‘Daddy didn’t say goodbye.’ It was Tom standing behind her.

  ‘You’ll see him on Saturday.’

  ‘Saturday’s today.’

  ‘Next Saturday.’

  Tom put his thumb in his mouth and went back to Clive’s technical explanations. He was handing Jo the controls and he took it with the awed look of one being handed the key to the kingdom. He settled himself on the sofa. His brothers piled up next to him.

  ‘It’s a novelty,’ said Leah. ‘We always had a little portable.’

  She let them stay there until she had cooked lunch. Spaghetti hoops, mashed potatoes and vegeburgers. It was the sort of meal that got eaten up quickly with no complaints.

  ‘There’s a film on this afternoon,’ said Jo.

  ‘And another one afterwards,’ said Ben.

  ‘There’s more to this house than the telly!’ said Leah. ‘Anyway, the front room is Clive’s. We have to let him have his peace and quiet. You can watch Saturday morning and children’s telly and that’s it. That’s it.’ Clive had already gone down the pub.

  ‘Oh Mum,’ they pleaded.

  She sighed. After all, what else had she got to offer them? ‘OK, just this weekend you can watch what you like, but you’re still having the same bedtimes.’

  Clive came back with a bag full of sweets, crisps and chocolates. He was a great favourite that day. He squeezed himself into his usual seat and kicked off his boots. Jo and Ben were next to him. Tom was on Tatty’s chair stroking the old thing who was so astonished at being given such attention she was dribbling. All of them were gawping at the television.

  Leah stood in the door in her apron. ‘Bathtime at six,’ she said to deaf ears.

  On Sunday she took the children to the park. This was on the other side of the railway line, a short walk under the bridge. The boys raced ahead. It was a dull day but not raining and the cold air seemed to hang. They had brought a football to play with. Leah sat on a bench and watched them, her eyes wandering from their squabbles to the misty city, pale and washed out in the winter light. Clive had stayed behind to cook a proper Sunday lunch.

  His lunch was ready at 3.30. By this time the children were restless and argumentative. They waited, wriggling, round the table. Leah tried to quieten them as Clive dished up. Roast chicken, roast potatoes, stuffing, peas and gravy. He placed heaped platefuls in front of everybody.

  ‘Thank you, Clive,’ said Leah. ‘Children, say ‘‘thank you’’ to Clive.’

  There was a pause. Jo was a vegetarian and Leah had forgotten to tell Clive. ‘Just leave the meat,’ she said softly.

  Jo poked a chicken wing distastefully with his knife.

  ‘I’ll have yours,’ said Ben.

  Clive sat down and rubbed his hands. ‘This is more like it. Real food.’

  ‘Just leave the meat,’ said Leah to Jo again who hadn’t started eating.

  ‘The gravy has meat juices in it,’ he said in a wavering voice.

  ‘Mine’s got skin on,’ said Tom loudly.

  ‘I’ll have yours,’ said Ben.

  ‘For God’s sake!’ said Leah. ‘I thought you were all starving.’

  ‘A little problem?’ said Clive with a mouthful of potato.

  ‘Jo’s a vegetarian,’ explained Leah. ‘Jo, do you want me to give you another plate with no meat or gravy on it?’

  He nodded. He had gone pale.

  ‘The skinny bit is all crispy and hairy,’ said Tom.

  ‘Just leave it then,’ snapped Leah and took Jo’s plate to the kitchen. Her own food was getting cold. She plonked a portion of peas and potatoes on to a clean plate and gave it to Jo.

  There was a tense silence round the table. Clive was eating quite happily and so was Ben. Leah began to eat.

  ‘How do they kill the chicken?’ said Tom.

  ‘Shut up!’ hissed Leah.

  ‘Do they shoot them? Is this bit a leg?’

  ‘Tom, shut up.’ At least he was eating his. Jo still hadn’t touched any.

  ‘For goodness’ sake. What is the matter now?’

  ‘Are the potatoes cooked in meat juices?’ He was beginning to look defiant.

  ‘I always put them round the chicken,’ said Clive. ‘Makes them tasty.’

  ‘Eat the peas,’ said Leah.

  ‘You know I don’t like peas!’ And he pushed his plate away.

  ‘I don’t like peas,’ said Tom.

  ‘I’ll have yours,’ said Ben.

  ‘Christ! Clive has cooked us a delicious meal. For God’s sake eat it up.’

  ‘Seconds, anybody?’ said Clive.

  ‘I’m not eating anything!’ shouted Jo. ‘Why do you give me food I don’t like? You’re horrible. Daddy never makes me eat things. You’re horrible.’ He ran upstairs.

  Leah looked at her half-eaten meal. The gravy was congealing and the rest of it was beginning to look like a greasy mess.

  ‘I don’t like peas,’ said Tom. ‘I don’t like dead chicken,’ and he too pushed his plate away and started to cry, ‘I don’t like you!’

  ‘Shut up! Shut up!’ shouted Leah.

  ‘I ate all mine,’ said Ben with a good-boy smug smile.

  ‘And you can shut up too!’

  Clive was looking amused by it all. He was crunching a chicken leg and bits of it were falling on to his beard.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Leah. ‘I really am.’ Upstairs Jo was throwing things. ‘Excuse me,’ she said and went to sort him out.

  Jo was on his bed howling. He had thrown all the books across the room. ‘I hate you. Go away!’ he shrieked.

  ‘I should have told Clive. I’m sorry. Next time you can have food you like.’ This didn’t stop Jo. She tried to comfort him but he pushed her away. ‘I hate you. You’re horrible to Daddy. He was crying because of you. Why did you leave him? I don’t want to be with you. I want my dad. You’re horrible. You’re an old witch, you’re a …’ but he had exhausted all insults. He was still crying but not so angrily now. She hugged him. She was crying too. This is impossible. Of course they will side with Al. He’s their darling daddy. ‘Daddy and I kept having arguments, it’s better that we’re somewhere separate.’ She wasn’t sure if Jo was listening but she kept telling him all the same. ‘We’ll stay here for a bit, then I’ll find somewhere better, with more rooms and a big garden and a telly and everything, and I’m sorry Daddy’s upset. I don’t want him to be upset.’

  ‘Then why did you leave him?’ said Jo. ‘I didn’t mind the arguments.’ He sat up and they looked at each other. ‘Why are you crying?’ he said.

  ‘Because I’m upset,’ said Leah, exasperated. ‘I didn’t want to leave Daddy, but I couldn’t stand it.’ Jo was astonished. He can’t believe it. That somebody can’t stand Daddy. He’ll never see my side of things. She wiped her eyes. ‘We have to make the best of it,’ she said.

  ‘I’m sorry about the books,’ said Jo.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Are you hungry? Do you want a sandwich?’

  He shook his head. ‘I think I’ll read for a bit.’

  Leah picked up the books and found the one he wanted. He curled up on the top bunk. It was a book of fairy tales
with illustrations. He flicked through it.

  ‘Shall I tell Daddy you’re upset too?’

  ‘If you want to.’ But she wasn’t sure it would make any difference at all.

  Downstairs, Clive had shut himself in the front room and Ben and Tom were feeding the rest of their lunch to Tatty.

  ‘She likes potatoes, and peas,’ said Tom.

  ‘And when she eats the bones she crunches them,’ said Ben, handing Tatty uneaten bits of chicken. Tatty gulped it down rapidly.

  ‘I’m not sure you should give chicken to dogs,’ said Leah.

  ‘Why? Why?’ said Ben and Tom.

  ‘Because …’ Tatty began to cough and choke. ‘Because … oh my God, open the door!’ Leah hauled the unfortunate creature outside just in time for her to puke up her impromptu meal all over the garden.

  CHAPTER TEN

  In the following week Leah found out a number of things about herself. Mostly, how much she had relied on Al. Clive was kind. He laughed and joked and brought back treats but whenever the children became difficult he shut himself in the front room or took the dog for a walk. He did this amicably but the message was clear: they weren’t his kids. Now it was up to Leah to settle the thousand matters that upset children. After they left for school the rest of the day seemed to be taken up preparing for them to return. Even when she was at the Project she was thinking, Jo needs new socks. What can I make for tea? Where is Tom’s favourite teddy? It had not been like this with Al. I have no regrets, but the responsibility feels enormous. They were going to have the children for a week each. She had not spoken to him since he handed them to her and there were some points that were still unclear. Would they keep shunting their offspring backwards and forwards like freight trains? Something told her he was in no state for rational discussions.

  Leah was at the Project. She was tired. Tom had woken several times in the night and now she was worried because she had sent him to school. She was about to ring the school when Bailey marched in. She had not thought about him for days and the last thought was to consign him to the dustbin of her brain, but here he was, large and bright in a brand new tracksuit. It was lilac, lime green and black, made out of shiny material. He waited in the office until somebody commented. Barbara and Lesley said nothing.

  ‘A new tracksuit, Bailey?’ said Leah.

  ‘Whatcha fink?’ and he displayed it from all angles.

  ‘Brilliant.’

  ‘It cost enough.’ He had a lilac headband to match.

  ‘Where did you get it?’ She was asking all the right questions.

  ‘Me mate Jen got it for me.’

  ‘Jen? Your girlfriend? That was kind of her.’

  He looked puzzled as if kindness had nothing to do with it. ‘I’ve got to look the part.’

  ‘You are the part,’ said Leah and handed him the keys. You told me disturbing things about yourself. There’s no possibility of a casual relationship now. You spoilt it.

  ‘How’s life?’ he said.

  ‘Life is fine,’ said Leah. ‘And you?’

  ‘Mega brill.’

  ‘Keep it that way.’ She smiled but Bailey didn’t smile; he looked put out and uncomfortable.

  She took the children back to Al’s. When he opened the door he was as dishevelled and manic as when she last saw him. The children rushed inside to find week-lost toys and projects. She stepped in and shut the door behind her. This made her feel instantly uneasy. The curtains were drawn and there were newspapers and cups on the floor. The house smelt stale. Al filled up the kettle. In the kitchen were unwashed plates, pans in the sink and clothes on the floor. She sat at the table and cleared a space ready for her coffee. Al was looking through the cupboards for the sugar. She felt an urge to roll up her sleeves and scrub the house from top to bottom.

  ‘The children have been fine,’ she said. ‘Jo had a bit of a wobbly but we sorted that out and Tom had bad dreams one night but I talked to his teacher and there’s been no problems. We’ve settled in and they love the dog. Tom wanted Tatty to sleep on his bed but I said that might upset Clive and I’ve just remembered Ben’s doing Africa so could you take him to the library …’

  ‘You stupid insensitive cow!’ yelled Al and slammed the coffee on the table so most of it spilled out. ‘Don’t you know what I’ve been going through? Don’t you care?’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘It’s rejection, it’s total rejection. Abandonment, desolation. It’s primeval pain, that’s what I’m going through.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ She was aware that whatever she said would be the wrong thing. She tried to look sympathetic but her own fear overwhelmed any other emotion. ‘Are you all right to have the children?’

  ‘You desert me and now you say I can’t have my children!’

  ‘I didn’t say that, I meant if you could cope.’ She was sure that any minute he was going to hit her. ‘Are you coping?’ She gestured around the fetid kitchen.

  ‘You bitch! I don’t want your judgements. How dare you come in here and criticise? This isn’t your home any more. I’ll do what I like with it. Get out!’

  She stood up. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  ‘Get out! Don’t talk to me. I can’t stand it. I can’t stand your banalities.’

  Leah ran for the front door. On the stairs were Ben and Tom sitting there listening to it all.

  ‘Are you being horrible to Daddy again?’ said Tom.

  ‘Goodbye darling,’ said Leah, flustered. ‘Where’s Jo?’

  He was in the front room reading a book as if nothing were happening. ‘Bye Mum,’ he said.

  She ran to Clive’s and straight upstairs to her own room. It was at least half an hour before she stopped shaking. She had forgotten what it was like to be scared.

  She now had the whole weekend to herself and she didn’t know what to do. Rachel was still away. She phoned her friend Sarah but she was not there either and Leah remembered she spent most of Saturday taking her girls to dancing classes.

  She swept the kitchen floor. I could go for a walk or I could go to the shops. I could go to the museum. I could join Clive in the pub … I could go to the Woolpack.

  It was raining. When she reached the Woolpack her hair was wet and had started to curl. The Woolpack was quiet and there was nobody there she recognised. She sat in a corner with her drink. I shall stay here for an hour, then I will go to the museum, then I’ll go home and ring Sarah.

  Into the Woolpack strode Bill and Bailey. She had not expected to see Bailey; she had supposed he would be doing something with his girlfriend, but here he was, in a dazzling red shirt and embroidered braces. It was Bill who saw Leah.

  ‘I’ve never seen you here on a Saturday before.’

  ‘I’ve never been on a Saturday before.’

  Bailey was by the bar looking most put out.

  ‘I was on my own … I wasn’t going to stay long.’

  ‘Shall we join you?’ said Bill.

  ‘If you want to.’

  Bailey came over. ‘We was going to talk football.’

  ‘Oh, you still can. You can talk about whatever you like.’

  Bill and Bailey sat down. Between them they had bought four pints of Guinness.

  ‘How’s Carol?’ asked Leah.

  ‘Her and Ange have gone to see their folks, in Slough.’

  ‘Never say you come from Slough.’ Bailey started on his drink.

  ‘Or Guildford,’ said Bill and they both laughed. Bailey lit up a fag and stretched out his arms. ‘Saturday. Mega. Are we on one or what?’

  ‘We’re on one,’ said Bill.

  ‘Nice shirt,’ said Bailey to Leah in a scornful way because she too was wearing red. ‘You support Liverpool?’

  ‘Well, you don’t,’ said Bill.

  ‘Who do you support?’ said Leah.

  ‘Tranmere Rovers,’ said Bailey without the least embarrassment.

  Bill and Bailey discussed the Premier League, the first division and the secon
d. They dissected last Saturday’s matches and predicted this Saturday’s ones. Leah listened to it all, her head swimming with cider. Bill went to buy more drinks. She sat with Bailey, awkwardly; it was better when Bill was there.

  ‘Have a fag,’ he said, handing her one and he smiled. It was a friendly smile and she felt accepted. ‘Do you do this every Saturday?’ she asked.

  ‘Nope. This is a sesh, when you’re on a sesh, you’re on it.’

  Bill came back. ‘Is she on it?’

  ‘She’s on it,’ said Bailey.

  ‘I was going to the museum,’ said Leah.

  ‘She’s on it,’ said Bill.

  They stayed in the Woolpack until nearly three, when Bill and Bailey both looked at their watches.

  ‘Ten minutes to kick-off.’ They reached for their coats.

  ‘I’ll get the take-outs,’ said Bailey.

  ‘You coming?’ said Bill to Leah.

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Back for the vid of the match.’

  Football watching wasn’t her chosen way of passing time. Bailey returned with a bag full of cans. ‘Move it,’ he said. ‘It’s kick-off.’ He looked at Leah. ‘None of this girlie ‘‘what’s going on’’ rubbish.’

  ‘Absolutely,’ said Leah.

  Bill’s house was the top half of a terrace. In the hall were four bicycles they had to squeeze past. Then they were in a sitting room with the most splendid views across Bristol.

  ‘Oh look!’ said Leah, at the suspension bridge and the rain driving across the town. Bill was wiping his glasses. Bailey had already chosen the most comfortable chair and was sorting out the video. ‘Tea, coffee, beer?’ said Bill, attending to his guests. Bailey had already helped himself to a can of Tennents.

  Leah settled into an old red easy chair.

  ‘Move it, Bill, it’s started,’ said Bailey.

  ‘Well, there won’t be any goals yet, it’s Southampton.’ Bill eventually sat on the floor with the teapot and turned up the gas fire. He poured Leah a cup and took a can for himself. He began to concentrate. Leah watched too. So one side was Southampton. Who the other team was she didn’t dare ask. Bill rolled a joint, a large one, smoked half of it and gave the rest to Leah. He immediately started rolling another.