The strangeness of being around the flat on a weekday morning reminded me that if I was going to take any more time I was going to have to get a doctor’s note. I rang the surgery and made an appointment with Dr Edworth, the only woman in the practice, for early afternoon, after which I resolved to go and call on Ronnie. On both these counts I was enormously grateful to have the car back, and I called Ian to say so.
‘My pleasure,’ he said. ‘I knew Anthea wouldn’t mind, she’d much rather be buzzing about the place than stuck here with me.’
In one of those odd coincidences I passed Dennis driving out of the health centre car park as I drove in. He was in his business suit, and looking preoccupied: he didn’t see me. Or at least I hoped he didn’t, and that he wasn’t just cutting me – so jumpy was I that I expected hourly to be stoned in the street. In the waiting room, staring at long-obsolete pictures of a footballer’s wedding, I assured myself that I was definitely not in the best of health. I was stressed, and that combined with my time of life – well, I did need a few days off.
Dr Edworth was anyway a famously soft touch, who tended to accept patients’ own diagnosis.
‘No other problems?’ she asked, having recommended rest and a course of Vitamin B Complex. ‘ No new aches or pains?’
‘No …’ I was tempted, but restrained myself. Perhaps she’d heard anyway. ‘No.’
She glanced at my notes. ‘It’s about time you came along to the well-woman clinic for a checkup, do you think you could manage that?’
‘Yes, of course.’
She scribbled the dates of the next few clinics on a card and gave it to me. ‘ I advise a few days of fresh air and fun.’
My smile must have looked like a gargoyle’s grimace.
Somewhat to my surprise, Philip anwered the door.
‘Yes, she is – hang on.’ He went to the foot of the stairs and called up: ‘ Mum! It’s Eve!’
‘Coming.…’
‘Come on in,’ said Philip. We hung about in the hall. ‘I thought you were in Turkey,’ I said. ‘I was, but cash was running out, and Mum wasn’t well.…
‘Did you have a good time?’
‘Oh, I tell you …’ He brightened up. ‘Brilliant. I want to go back.’
‘I’ve never been.’
‘You should, really. I thought everyone did in the sixties.’
‘I’ve led a very sheltered life,’ I said, not joking, and he didn’t smile.
‘How’s Ben? Haven’t seen him in ages.’ My heart hammered. ‘Haven’t you?’
‘No – must be oh, I dunno. Ages.’
‘He’s been around.’
‘But around the Drages, yeah? That Sophie’s got a lot to answer for.’ My relief was echoed by his as Ronnie came down the stairs. ‘Here she is. See you.’
‘Ronnie,’ I said, ‘you look wonderful.’
She was slim and luminous in jeans and a loose aquamarine velvet shirt. ‘You like? I don’t think of myself as a jeans kind of person but I decided to break out, and Dennis bought me the shirt in France.’
‘I just saw Dennis at the surgery, but he didn’t see me.’
‘He was picking up a prescription. You’re not ill are you?’
‘Not really – but not malingering either.’ We went and sat in the drawing room. Philip put his head in: ‘Kettle’s on.’
‘Eve?’
‘No thanks.’
The moment he’d gone I had to unburden myself. I think what I most dreaded was that she might already know or, worse, have heard something and not believed it. But her reaction of shock and dismay was the first to echo my own and so bring me real comfort.
‘Oh, Eve – that’s terrible, I am so, so sorry. You poor thing, what must you have been going through?’
‘Hell. Absolute hell.’
‘What on earth was Sabine thinking of?’
I shrugged. ‘There aren’t any excuses, Ronnie. She didn’t even pretend to make any. I know it sounds old-fashioned, but the only word for it is brazen.’
Ronnie shook her head. ‘ It is extraordinary. Poor Martin – do you think he knows?’
‘I’ve no idea. I dread meeting him, Ronnie. I dread meeting anyone – I feel the whole town is talking about it.’
‘No, I’m sure they’re not,’ she said firmly. ‘ This is the first I’ve heard of it, unless the boys are being quite uncharacteristically discreet – what’s Ben saying?’
‘Not much. He’s incredibly hostile and defiant. When I confronted him he treated me as though I were the person who’d done something wrong.’
‘Poor Eve. You don’t need it.’ Ronnie leaned forward and held out her hand to me. I took it. Hers was very smooth, and cool as she gave mine a quick squeeze. Her kindness, her voice, her touch, all did for me.
‘He’s left,’ I gasped, before breaking into wracking sobs. ‘ He just walked out … Oh God, Ronnie, what am I going to do …?’
To her eternal credit she didn’t answer that question. All she did was to come and sit on the arm of the chair and put her arm round my shoulders and stroke my hair. Dimly, through the maelstrom of sobs, I heard Philip’s voice and felt her wave him away. I was making a spectacle of myself but I couldn’t stop and Ronnie didn’t suggest that I should. All she did when I began to run out of steam was to get up and fetch us both a brimming schooner of Amontillado.
‘Best thing at this time of day,’ she said, returning to her chair.
‘Thank you Ronnie,’ I sniffed. ‘You’re a pal.’
‘I should certainly hope so.’
‘What must Philip think?’
‘That you’re upset. Don’t worry, he’s very used to emotional scenes. Look,’ she pondered her rings for a moment, ‘what’s the worst that can happen?’
I knew, because she had already shown me, that she understood my feelings, otherwise I might have suspected her of making light of them. As it was I gave the question serious consideration.
‘I don’t know. At the moment I feel this is it.’
‘Yes, of course. But truthfully, Eve, it isn’t. What is it you’re deep down afraid of?’
‘I suppose … I suppose I’m afraid of losing Ben. I’ve already lost Sabine as a friend, and I may lose others, but for Ben to do this and then to go off, hating me … It’s more than I can bear. It’s as if the whole of my life’s exploded in front of my eyes.’
‘Well,’ Ronnie got up to fetch the decanter. ‘ If it’s Ben hating you you’re afraid of, my humble opinion is that it’s not going to happen.’
I watched as she topped up my glass. ‘It already has.’
‘Nonsense.’ She filled hers and sat down again with the decanter on the table next to her. ‘ Eve, you know that’s not true. If ever a son loved his mother it’s your Ben, it’s plain for all to see.’
‘But he was so cold – he stormed out – you should have heard the things he said.’
‘Yes, but he’s young and you know what they say about the best form of defence. Have you seen him since then?’
‘No. And there hasn’t been a phone call, a message – nothing.’
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘I know who he’s with, but not the address or number.’
‘I’m sure we can find out. Shall we? Then you could contact him.’
She had stopped me in my tracks as surely as if I’d walked into a lamp post.
‘Isn’t it up to him to contact me?’
‘Probably, but do they ever? And I suppose his life is upside down, too. Climbing down’s a bit of a bugger at the best of times, and they have further to climb from at that age, don’t they?’
‘Maybe I will,’ I muttered.
Ronnie leaned forward again, her glass cradled in her hands. ‘Eve, you probably don’t want to hear this at this precise moment, but I really must say it.’
I looked at her warily. ‘Go on.’
‘It’s just that Ben is such a lovely chap. You’re very lucky. He may have done something very, very s
tupid and rash, but that doesn’t make him wicked. He’s still a kind, affectionate, thoroughly nice boy—’
‘Adorable, Sabine says.’
‘Well …’ Ronnie smiled ruefully, ‘she’s right.’
‘I’m not going to make excuses for them.’
‘Nor me. Nor me. But keep on thinking the best of Ben-he does you so much credit, Eve. This isn’t true colours, it’s a lapse.’
‘Christ! If this is a lapse I hope I don’t live to see the full-blown fall from grace!’
‘You probably will, of course you will. I rather envy you.’ She sounded not smug, but slightly wistful. I realised I had talked about nothing but myself since arriving three quarters of an hour ago.
‘I’m sorry, Ronnie. How was the holiday? I got your postcard but I think you’d already got back. It looked lovely.’
‘It was, as far as it went.’
‘And then you were ill?’
‘Yes – I liked that lovely virus so much I asked it to stay. To be honest I didn’t feel too bad, but it’s awfully inconvenient to be running all the time, and the stuff the French doctor prescribed gave me a reaction, so when my head wasn’t over the basin, my bottom was over the loo …!’
‘That really is dire,’ I agreed, but she was so droll that I had to laugh with her. ‘What rotten luck.’
‘It was, but it couldn’t be helped. Anyway, I expect we’ll get away later in the year.’
‘And you’ve shaken it off now.’
‘Oh yes – I’ve got to have a few tests and whatnot, which means no tennis but I’m perfectly optimistic.’
‘Tests?’
She sighed and grimaced. ‘You know what medicos are like about the runs, especially the foreign sort – it’s into the Lublijanka forthwith to have telescopes inserted where no telescope should ever go.’
I had to admit I didn’t know, but we were at least both laughing as we went into the hall. By the front door Ronnie put her hands on my shoulders.
‘You see,’ she said, kissing me on both cheeks. ‘ There is life after scandal.’
Trying not to think too hard about what I was doing I went back through town. I told myself that if I saw a parking space in the street I would use it. If not, then it wasn’t meant to be. I think that subconsciously I was relying on the fact that there were never any non-carpark spaces in town.
Today, of course, there were. It was late afternoon, the lull between the day shoppers and the after-work crowd. I told myself I’d missed the first one, but the next was in a side road between the Royal Mail sorting office and the mall containing HMV. Not just one either, but quite a little block of spaces, a direct challenge to my excuse-making abilities.
I left the car and approached HMV cautiously. I wanted to see Ben before he saw me, to try and gauge his mood and manner. But he must have been in the stock room, or taking a break, there was no sign of him.
I went in, and approached Nozz, who was on the till.
‘Afternoon, madam,’ he said. ‘Latest from Boyzone?
‘Is he about?’
‘Don’t tell me he didn’t tell you.’ Nozz shook his head with heavily ironic disbelief.
‘Tell me what?’
‘Sorry to be the harbinger of bad tidings.’
‘Nozz – what?’
‘He’s left – more precisely he was asked to leave.’
‘He got the sack?’ I felt not so much dismay as a leaden acceptance of the inevitable.
Nozz assumed a sympathetic expression. ‘’Fraid so. It was a really bum rap, because he could sell anything, but there’ve been a few times recently when he hasn’t showed—’ Nozz shrugged – ‘it was one too many.’
‘And the long lunch hours …’ I murmured, more or less to myself.
‘How did you know about those?’
‘You told me.’
‘Right.…’
‘OK,’ I said, ‘thanks Nozz. I don’t suppose you know where he is, do you? I would like to speak to him.’
‘You could try my place.’
‘Thanks.’
‘Do you know where I am?’
‘I don’t actually.’
Without the slightest hesitation Nozz wrote his address and phone number on the back of a receipt slip, and handed it to me. I took heart from this – friends had clearly not been sworn to silence, nor been told to treat me like a leper. But there was something I still didn’t know.
‘Nozz … You don’t have any idea why he was failing to turn up, do you?’
‘Not a clue.’
I chose my words carefully. ‘It doesn’t have anything to do with his new relationship does it?’
Nozz shrugged. ‘ I seriously doubt it. I mean you know Ben, that’s not his style.’
‘No, I suppose not.’
‘And Sophie never struck me as the type – not always up for it, like Pearl. She was out all day checking cows for the first signs of madness. No, if you ask me he just got bored with this place.’
In recent days I’d become super-sensitive to evasions and equivocation. I was a human lie-detector, but I could discern nothing in Nozz’s voice or look to indicate that he was being anything but honest.
‘Oh well,’ I said. ‘Never mind. It was never exactly brain surgery, was it?’
‘If it was, I wouldn’t be doing it.’ He put up a hand to dismiss my apology. ‘It’s alright, I know what you’re saying.’
I located Nozz’s flat quite easily – it was the ground floor of a red-brick Edwardian semi near the station – but having found it my resolve deserted me. The restraints of the workplace would have prevented us having a scene. Here there would be no such restraints. By turning up on the doorstep of his retreat I would be wrongfooting him, albeit unintentionally, and to the turmoil of his private life would now be added the humiliation of the sack. As I sat in the car and stared at the front of the house, and the small bay window, partly obscured by laurel, the door opened and Ben came out.
He looked perfectly normal and composed. I don’t know what I’d expected – after all, I too was in emotional uproar, but my appearance was much the same as usual. He walked a few yards and then paused, felt in his pocket, and took out his keys. Now I spotted the VW, parked on his side, but facing me. He was going to get in and drive away, right past me. If he spotted me and I hadn’t made myself known it would look as if I’d been sitting here spying on him.
I got out and called his name. He was in the process of unlocking the door, and though he didn’t look up I sensed that he had heard me. I began to to cross the road.
‘Ben!’
He got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door. I began walking – almost running – up the pavement towards him.
‘Ben …?’
There was now no doubt that he was ignoring me, his eyes focused quite unnecessarily on the key as he turned it in the ignition. I reached the car and knocked frantically on the window. The car’s small engine thrummed into noisy life.
‘Ben, please!’
He turned away from me, checking the street behind over his shoulder as he pulled out. I was left standing on the kerb with tears of pain and anger running down my face.
No more, I told myself as I rushed back to the car to hide my humiliation … No more, as I wiped my cheeks and blew my nose … No more! It was intolerable. I remembered something about the sharp tooth of a child’s ingratitude. Let him come to me when he ran out of cash, when Martin punched him on the nose, when Sabine, for God’s sake, dumped him, as she surely would – let him just come crawling to me and we’d see who the grown-up was!
Clive rang up just as I was going to bed – he wasn’t late, but I was early.
‘Eve – I hope I’m not disturbing you.’
‘Not at all, I’m standing here in my Wincyette trying to decide between tea and cocoa.’
‘Ah, hah …’ he laughed nervously, not sure whether I was joking, or serious, or irritated. ‘Well look, I won’t keep you—’
‘I’ve
sat down now.’
‘This is a longshot, but I wonder if you’d care to come to a concert at the Melrose Hall on Friday.’
I only hesitated for a split second, but he jumped in. ‘I’m not much of a concert-goer myself, but I’ve been given these tickets by a colleague whose cousin is singing in it, and it’s a charity do, so I ought to show willing. I really would like some congenial company, someone who knows me well enough to give me a poke in the ribs if I fall asleep.’
He was trying in his donnish way to reassure me that this wasn’t a date. ‘Thank you,’ I said, ‘I’d like to.’
‘Oh good, that is a relief. It’s snippets of this and that as far as I can make out. My friend’s cousin is a kind of middle-rank soprano – we haven’t heard of her but she gets plenty of work I gather.’
‘Clive, I haven’t heard of anyone anyway.’
‘Shall I see you at the Melrose Hall at about seven, then?’
‘I’ll be there.’
I plumped for the cocoa, and looked in on Ben’s room on my way to bed. Its awful neatness stabbed my heart. On the smooth, plump pillow sat Algy in all his handwashed, tumble-dried glory, his stubby arms and legs outstretched in an empty embrace.
The next day, Thursday, I bit the bullet and returned Sabine’s call. To my horror – it was ten a.m. – the phone was answered by Martin. At the sound of his voice I went hot and cold, and it didn’t get any better.
‘Eve – can’t stop I’m on my way out. Which one do you want?’
‘I’m sorry?’
‘Who do you want – my wife or your son?’
All the breath went out of me for a moment, snatched away by this dizzying switchback of relief and shock.
‘Eve?’
‘I didn’t know Ben was there.’
‘Parents know nothing, I’ve learnt that – hang on, here’s Sabine.’
The receiver the other end was stifled for a moment and then Sabine’s voice said ‘ Hello Eve.’
That Was Then Page 24