And then there was Clifford.
Clifford had made a good recovery from his operation, but was still milking his condition for all it was worth, and Mavis was running low on sympathy. She had heard detailed accounts of everything that had happened, from the moment Clifford entered the hospital (“with four new pairs of pyjamas. Four, Mavis! Because Dorothy says you never know”) until the day he left it (with, apparently, only two pairs of pyjamas, because the hospital had managed to lose the other two), and while she tried to show an interest, she had to admit, if only to herself, that the whole thing was becoming deeply boring. They had only managed to meet once, since Clifford still wasn’t allowed to drive, and that had involved two bus rides and a long walk in the pouring rain. Much as Mavis had been looking forward to seeing him, she couldn’t help wondering whether it had all been worth it just for the pleasure of holding Clifford’s hand and listening to Clifford’s interminable accounts of his medical adventures. Afterwards, she realised that he hadn’t even asked her how she was, merely commenting on her new hair colour (courtesy of Gabs). Needless to say, he hadn’t approved. As for Maudie, his only comment had been that she had “had a good innings”. Mavis had always disliked this particular expression, because it seemed to her that when one was missing someone, the length of their innings was irrelevant. When she came to think of it, Clifford himself had had a reasonable innings, but she doubted whether he would like to be reminded of it.
Mr. Strong, too, had been causing her problems. His appearance wasn’t the only dapper thing about Mr. Strong; he led a dapper little life and ran a dapper little business, and didn’t like either being interrupted. Hitherto, he had been quite accommodating where Mavis’s mother was concerned, but apparently this accommodation didn’t stretch to lengthy hospital visits, and when initially Mavis had wanted to spend much of her time at Maudie’s bedside, he had not been at all understanding.
“But why?” he had asked. “Why do you need to be there so much? She’s in the hospital, and the nurses will look after her. You have a job, Mavis. Responsibilities. I’m disappointed in you.”
The disappointment was mutual, and Mavis told him so. She had worked loyally and conscientiously for many years, and felt that she was owed a little flexibility in what was, for her, a crisis.
“I have no other family,” she told him. “If it were my husband, you would understand, wouldn’t you?”
“Of course.” Mr. Strong had a grey little wife and understood about marriage. “That would be different.”
“Why? Why would it be different?” Mavis wanted to know.
“I am my wife’s next of kin.”
“Well, I’m my mother’s next of kin.”
“Marriage,” said Mr. Strong, “is a special case.”
“Well, my mother’s a special case,” Mavis said. “She’s been a wonderful mother to me, and I’m not letting her down now.”
“But you tell me she’s confused. She probably doesn’t even know you’re there.”
“She does sometimes, and besides, that’s not the point. I know I’m there. And that’s what matters.”
“Well!” said Mr. Strong, who was not used to confrontations. “You may have to consider how much you care about your job, Mavis. There are other people out there who would jump at the chance to work for me.”
But Mavis was not going to succumb to threats, nor did she believe that there was anyone at all out there who would want her job. She knew that she was invaluable to Mr. Strong; that when it came to menswear, she had an eye for colour and style; that she was good with the ditherers and the last-minute present buyers; and that Mr. Strong would be very foolish indeed to get rid of her. She also knew Mr. Strong’s little ways, of which there were many, and she knew his customers. Mr. Strong could posture and protest all he liked; she was pretty sure that her job was safe.
And if it wasn’t? Gabs had once told her that there was more to life than “slaving away in a silly little shop,” and while Mavis had been quite offended at the time, now that she thought about it, she reckoned that Gabs had a point. She might not be irreplaceable, but neither was her job. She had a little savings; she could afford to buy time to look around and take stock (not Mr. Strong’s kind, either). She would try to do her job as well (and as regularly) as she could, but whatever happened, Maudie would come first.
But now at last there was good news, for Clifford had been given the all-clear and was allowed to drive once more.
“I’ll come over to your house, shall I, Mavis? Now that we shan’t have any interruptions from your mother.”
Mavis didn’t like Clifford’s tone but had to agree that the idea was a good one. Dennis had now more or less taken up permanent residence in his flat, and even if he were not there, Mavis would always worry that he might suddenly appear, like the man in Brief Encounter. Besides, she was still embarrassed about the discovery of her device and annoyed about the missing champagne. As it was, Clifford could come over on her day off, and she would make a nice lunch for them both.
At first things went smoothly. Clifford was in good form and seemed gratifyingly pleased to see her. He had brought wine and flowers, and even complimented Mavis on her appearance (compliments had been in short supply recently). He was pleased with the lunch (Mavis had prepared all his favourite things), and when he showed her his scar, she was suitably impressed.
“That cat doesn’t look too well,” Clifford remarked as Pussolini tottered through the dining room. “Are you feeding him enough, Mavis?”
“Of course I’m feeding him. It’s just that he’s not eating. He’s pining for Mother.”
Clifford shouted with laughter. “Pining? That cat pining? I don’t think so,” he said.
“Well, he is. The vet said so.”
“In that case, that’s a good thing, isn’t it? He’s a horrible animal — you’ve said so yourself often enough — and if he manages to starve himself to death, that’ll be one less thing for you to worry about.”
“Mother loves him.”
“But she’s never going to see him again, is she?” Clifford helped himself to more cheese. “She need never know.”
“Are you expecting me to lie to her?”
“No need to lie. Just don’t tell her.”
“So you’re suggesting that I watch him slowly starve and do nothing about it?”
“You don’t have a lot of choice, do you?” Clifford picked out his teeth with a cocktail stick, a habit Mavis abhorred.
“He drinks a little warm milk.”
“A little warm milk! For goodness’ sake, Mavis. He’s a cat! Why go to all that trouble for a cat? Especially that one.”
“I’ve become fond of him,” Mavis said, realising that in a funny way, it was true. The house often felt terribly empty these days, and it was good to come home to something alive, even if that something was only an evil, pining cat.
“Well, you’ve certainly changed your tune.”
“Maybe I have. But I get lonely, living by myself.”
“Well, if that cat stops you from feeling lonely, you’ve certainly got a problem,” Clifford said.
“I don’t suppose you’ve ever been lonely, have you?” Mavis asked him.
“Probably not.”
“Then you’ve no idea what it’s like.”
“I can imagine what it’s like.”
“I don’t think you can. Any more than I can imagine what it’s like to have — to have heart surgery.”
“That’s different,” Clifford told her. “You can have no idea what it’s like being put under an anaesthetic and not knowing whether you will ever come round.”
“I’ve had an anaesthetic —”
“Ah, but not one like this. Can you imagine what it’s like saying goodbye to your family, being wheeled away from them, not knowing whether you’ll ever see them again?”
Mavis did in fact have a pretty good idea since Clifford had described this experience to her so many times that she knew the story by
heart.
“I can put myself in your shoes, yes,” she said. “I just sometimes wish that you could put yourself in mine.”
“I don’t like the sound of all these accusations.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s just that I’ve done my best to imagine how difficult it must have been like for you in the hospital, having a major operation. But you never seem to understand what it’s like for me, living here on my own, visiting Mother, looking after the cat, having Mr. Strong going on at me all the time because I need time off.”
“Mavis, do I detect a hint of self-pity?”
There are few things more infuriating than having someone accuse you of a fault that they themselves have in abundance, and Mavis could feel herself becoming seriously angry.
“It takes one to know one,” she said, throwing caution to the winds.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that you — I — both of us have spent a lot of time feeling sorry for you, but I can’t remember a time when you have ever shown any sympathy for me.”
“So,” said Clifford, buttering himself another biscuit (should he really be having this much cholesterol?), “our reunion is to be turned into a discussion of my shortcomings, is it?” He put cheese on his biscuit and took a bite.
“No, of course not. And I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve missed you, and I suppose I wanted you to know how miserable I’ve been without you.”
This was not entirely true, but Mavis knew that it was up to her to rescue the situation, which was, in the end, of her own making. If she could focus on Clifford and his illness and his joyous return to good health rather than telling him about her own problems, all would be well.
But then, was this right? Was it honest to conduct a relationship with reference to the feelings of only one of the parties involved? Her relationship with Clifford had become increasingly lopsided over the past few months, and if it carried on in this way, there would eventually be nothing in it at all for Mavis. She had always tried to be unselfish and considerate, but she had her limits, and Clifford was certainly doing his best to test them. It occurred to her that nowadays, she seemed to spend all her time looking after other people. Her mother, the cat, Clifford; even Mr. Strong had sometimes needed emotional support. When the little grey wife found a breast lump, when someone crashed into his new car, when the cleaner took three days’ takings from the till, and then did a runner all the way to New Jersey — all these had been occasions for Mavis to lend him a sympathetic ear. But who did this for Mavis? To whom could she turn when things went badly? Certainly she used to be able to depend on Clifford, but not anymore. Clifford was far too busy looking after number one to pay more than glancing attention to any of her problems.
Mavis wondered how Dorothy was coping and whether she was feeling the same.
“How’s Dorothy?” she asked now, pouring coffee.
“Fine. Why?”
“Oh, no reason. It’s just that all this must have been worrying for her, too.”
This was the right thing to say.
“Yes. Of course she was worried. I mean, she was bound to be, wasn’t she? After nearly forty years of marriage. But Dorothy’s very strong. Actually, I did expect just a little more support from her, but she encouraged me to be independent, to do things for myself. I don’t think,” Clifford added, stirring cream into his coffee, “that Dorothy would have made a very good nurse.”
“Good for Dorothy!”
“What do you mean?” Clifford looked at her suspiciously.
“Oh, just that it’s always good to encourage independence, isn’t it? You must have been pleased that she was so encouraging.”
“Ye-es. I suppose so.” Clifford put down his coffee cup and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Mavis, shall we go to bed?”
Mavis beamed at him. She had redeemed a dodgy situation and would get her reward after all.
“I thought you’d never ask.”
The following night, Pussolini died. He died without fuss, curled up on Maudie’s bed, as though he had finally given up waiting for her return. When Mavis lifted his fragile corpse, it felt like a tiny bag of bones. It was hard to imagine that this little scrap of a cat had once been so large and so full of life and energy and sheer animal vitriol. She dug a hole under the lilac tree and buried him, wrapped in Maudie’s old flannel nightie, for which he had always had a particular fondness.
When she had finished, Mavis went indoors for a solitary wake of tea and biscuits. Sitting at the kitchen table, feeling the silence of the empty house closing in around her, she wept. She wept for Pussolini and his miserable last few weeks; she wept for poor Maudie, who had loved him so much and who would never know of his passing (she had to admit that in this instance, Clifford had been right); and she wept for herself.
For the first time in her life, Mavis felt entirely alone.
The Fifth Meeting: October
Since Alice, Gabs, and Mavis had now got to know one another so much better, further official meetings seemed unnecessary. However, they had promised one another that they would keep them up for a year, and so an October get-together was to be arranged.
“What are you all doing this time?” Finn asked Alice. “Is it your turn to sort it?”
“I’ve lost count. But I don’t mind doing it.”
“Can I come?”
“No.”
“Why not? I like them. Especially Gabs.” Finn grinned.
“That’s one of the reasons why not. Besides, you wouldn’t want me tagging along when you’re out with your friends, would you?”
“You wouldn’t want to come.”
“True.”
“Well then.”
“The answer’s still no.”
“Okay. But what are you going to do?”
“Well, I think it would be nice to include Maudie.”
“Is she allowed out?”
“She’s not a prisoner. Of course she’s allowed out.”
This idea had in fact only just occurred to Alice, but as she was an honorary member of the group, it seemed somehow mean to leave Maudie out. She phoned Mavis and put the idea to her.
“I don’t know.” Mavis sounded doubtful. “She’s awfully confused. And heavy. She’s put on a lot more weight.”
“She’s been awfully confused for ages. It might do her good. As for being heavy, with three of us we ought to be able to manage.”
“But she hasn’t been out at all yet.”
“Then perhaps it’s time she did. Are you all right, Mavis? You sound a bit low.”
“I’ve just buried the cat.”
“Oh, I am sorry.”
“Thank you. Everyone else seems to think I should be pleased to be rid of him, but I’m not.”
“Of course you’re not. He might have been a bugger, but he was part of your family. And at least he had a personality. He wasn’t one of those bland, boring lap cats.”
“That’s true.” Mavis laughed. “Someone once tried to pick him up and put him on her lap. I thought he was going to kill her.”
“Quite right, too.” Alice hesitated. “Was Clifford nice about it?”
“No. Not at all.”
“I’m sorry.” Alice privately thought that Clifford sounded quite awful, but was wise enough not to say so. “All the more reason for an outing, then. For you and for Maudie. Where do you think she’d like to go? Where would she choose if she could?”
“The zoo. She loved going to the zoo. She said seeing all those animals was like travelling, but without the bother. But I don’t think there’s a zoo near enough.”
“There’s that big country house. It’s got a safari park. Even better than a zoo if you want to travel.”
“Don’t the monkeys climb all over the cars? I’ve heard they do awful damage.”
“That’s part of the fun. Finn used to love it when he was little. We can take my car. It’s so old it won’t mind the monkeys, and I don’t think we’d
all fit into that pink thing of Gabs’.”
Alice needed cheering up, and the idea of taking Maudie to a safari park would certainly help. When she phoned Gabs, it sounded very much as though Gabs could do with cheering up, too.
“What’s the matter?” Alice asked.
“Don’t ask,” Gabs said. “Long story.”
“Long stories can be shortened.”
“Not this one. And not over the phone.”
“Okay. Well, we’re thinking of taking Maudie to the safari park.”
Gabs thought this was a great idea.
“I’m just a bit concerned about the lifting,” Alice said. “She’ll need heaving in and out of the car, and she’s awfully heavy. In the home they have a hoist thing.”
“That’s because of fucking health and safety. Nurses are wimps these days. They’re not allowed to lift a cup of tea without getting help. Leave it to me. We’ll manage. I haven’t yet found anyone I can’t lift.”
“Are you allowed to? Lift people at work, I mean?” Alice asked.
“What do you think?”
“Okay. Silly question.”
“We can bring a picnic, and have it in the car.”
“No dope, though.” The thought of drug-induced euphoria in a smallish car surrounded by wild animals was not an attractive (or safe) one.
“Absolutely no dope.”
October can be one of the loveliest of months, and so it was on the day of the outing: a golden day of warm sunshine and gently falling leaves, spiced up with the lightest of breezes. The three women collected Maudie from her home, where Gabs’ offers of help were dismissed as she was winched into the car by a terrifying machine and several care assistants (“What a load of bollocks,” muttered Gabs), and they were off.
At first, Maudie was subdued and appeared bewildered by the sudden change of scene after her lengthy incarceration, but after a while she became chatty and cheerful, and while no one could understand what she was saying, it was good to see her looking more like her old self. She was wearing some rather peculiar clothes, which Mavis said were not her own (clothes in the home appeared to be interchangeable among the residents), but she added that since Maudie didn’t mind what she wore, there was no point in making a fuss.
Women Behaving Badly_An uplifting, feel-good holiday read Page 24