They had chosen a weekday, so the safari park wasn’t crowded, and after they’d bought their tickets and a bag of animal food, they were able to drive straight in.
At the sight of the first animal (a hippo), Maudie was completely carried away.
“Bad!” she cried. “Oh, bad!” She waved and laughed and tapped on the car window. “Bad!”
“They’re not bad, Maudie,” Alice said. “They’re nice hippos. Can you say hippos?”
“I wouldn’t worry,” Mavis told her. “These days, everything’s bad. It doesn’t mean anything.”
Giraffes and deer stuck their heads through the car window, and Maudie fed them from her bag of food, dropping bits all over the floor of the car and even popping one or two into her own mouth. By the time she’d finished, her hand and clothes were covered with animal slobber, and she appeared to be in seventh heaven.
“Bad. Slumpish!” she cried, trying to pat the nose of a strange stripy creature with a runny nose. “Slumpish!”
“Well, this was certainly a good idea,” Alice said. “She’s having a wonderful time.”
When they reached the monkey enclosure, they closed the car windows, as instructed, and drove slowly through, oohing and aahing over the babies and laughing at their antics as they slithered over the roof of the car and tried to dismantle a wing mirror. No one noticed Maudie opening the window, possibly because everyone assumed she was incapable, and it may have been open for several minutes before disaster struck.
It is amazing how quickly cute and cuddly can turn into ferocious and terrified, but that’s what happened when a large and very obviously male monkey managed to get into the car.
“Bad!” yelled Maudie as it landed on her lap. “Bad, bad, bad!”
Bad indeed. The monkey, which had been confident and very much at home outside the car, became a reluctant and very angry passenger inside it. Immediately there was pandemonium, while the monkey flew round the interior of the car like a whirlwind, ricocheting off laps and shoulders and windows, shrieking and chattering, biting and scratching.
“Bloody hell! What do we do?” cried Gabs as she tried to detach two small and very sharp hands from her hair.
“Food! Give it some food!” cried Mavis.
“I think it’s beyond food.” Gabs gave their guest’s shiny red bottom a slap. “Get out, you fucking animal! Get out!”
“Let’s open all the windows,” Mavis said.
“No. Because then they’ll all try to get in. Ouch!” The monkey tore at Alice’s shirt. “Get off, you little shit!”
More monkeys, attracted by the noise, were gathering on the bonnet of the car. Their friend, desperate to join them, thumped and scratched at the windscreen, screaming monkey obscenities. Maudie was beside herself with what appeared to be a mixture of fear and delight, and Alice was having one of those moments where you know everything will probably be all right in the end and that you will dine out on this story for years, but in the meantime your mind has entered a state of paralysis.
Fortunately, just when it seemed that the situation could only get worse, the monkey finally realised how it had got in, and made a swift and noisy exit, peeing on Maudie’s lap as it went and leaving the occupants of the car frightened and exhausted.
“For God’s sake, close that window, somebody!” Gabs was the first to recover. “And to think I used to think monkeys were rather sweet!”
Alice leaned across Maudie and wound up the window.
“Fucking animal,” said Maudie, loudly and clearly. “Fucking, fucking, fucking!”
“Mother!” said Mavis.
“Never mind that. Blame me, if you like,” Gabs said. “Besides, she spoke! She actually said something that meant something.”
“And she’s right. It was a fucking animal.” Alice brushed herself down. “Is everyone okay?”
Considering the malevolent mood of the monkey and the sharpness of its claws, they had got away lightly. Everyone had acquired a few superficial scratches, and Gabs had a rip in her T-shirt, but otherwise there was little harm done.
“I think,” said Alice, starting the engine, “that I’ve had enough of monkeys for one day. Bears, anyone?”
Back in the carpark, they mopped Maudie up as best they could, but she was sticky from animal saliva, very dishevelled, and thanks to the monkey’s parting gift, she smelt terrible.
“Oh dear,” said Mavis, scrubbing at Maudie’s skirt with a tissue. “What will they think back at the home?”
“They’ll think she had one hell of a good time, and that’s what matters,” Gabs said, laying out a rug on the grass beside the car. “Mavis, they’re paid to clean her up, so let them do it. Chill out, will you?” She produced a bottle of wine and some glasses. “Wine, anyone?”
“Should we?” Mavis asked, sitting down and getting out several neat Tupperware containers. (Gabs might have known that Mavis was a Tupperware person. She herself favoured plastic bags.)
“Yes,” said Gabs. “We certainly should. Heaven knows, we’ve earned it. Besides, we always have wine.”
“Bad?” Maudie held out her hand. “Oh, bad!”
“Of course you can have some, Maudie.” Gabs poured her half a glass. “There you go.”
Gabs was in a quandary. She was longing to tell the others about her disastrous meeting with Father Augustine, but was pretty sure they would disapprove. On the other hand, who else could she talk to? Steph was still barely speaking to her, and there wasn’t anyone else.
“I need to talk,” she said. “Please.”
“Fire away,” said Alice. “After all, that’s what we’re here for, isn’t it?”
“You’re not going to like this,” Gabs said. “Either of you.”
“Oh,” said Alice, putting down her glass.
“Yes. Oh.”
“You haven’t!”
Gabs nodded. “I’m afraid I have.”
“How?” Mavis asked after a moment. “How on earth did you manage it?”
So Gabs told them. She spared them some of the details, but otherwise she gave them a pretty accurate picture of what had happened.
“So there it is. I’ve told you. And please don’t be furious, because Steph has been giving me a hard time ever since it happened, and I know I’m in the wrong, I know what I did was awful, and no one can be angrier with me than I am with myself. But I can’t turn the clock back.”
“Would you?” Alice asked. “If you could?”
“Oh yes. A hundred times, yes. I never thought I’d be saying this, but it was the worst, most selfish, stupid, thoughtless thing I’ve ever done in my life.”
“Goodness,” Alice said. “This isn’t like you, Gabs.”
“You mean I’m incapable of remorse? That I plough my way through people’s lives making them miserable and not giving a damn?”
“Of course not —”
“Because you’d be right. On this occasion, anyway.”
“So what now?” Mavis asked. “How is — Father Augustine?”
“He’s gone.”
“Gone where?”
“I’ve no idea. I suppose he must have told the powers that be what happened, and he’s probably been despatched to a monastery on a remote Scottish island to live on bread and water and beat himself with twigs.”
“Really?” Mavis asked.
“No, of course not. But they’ll have sent him somewhere to teach him to mend his ways; and they weren’t his ways, they were mine. The fault was all mine.” Gabs grabbed a handful of tissues from her bag and wiped her eyes. “And the worst thing of all is that that he wrote me a letter and apologised! He insisted that it was his fault, and he actually apologised. To me.” She buried her face in her hands and wept openly. “I loved him, you know. I loved him so much!”
“Gosh, you really did, didn’t you?” Alice moved closer and put her arm round Gabs’ shoulders.
Gabs nodded. “Yes, I did. I’m not sure that I really loved him… before. I lusted after him to such a
n extent that I think I interpreted it as love. But now…” She stifled a sob. “After the way he’s behaved, the way he was with me… I don’t think I’ve ever met such a good person. I mean really, truly good.” She blew her nose. “And of course I shall never see him again. Or probably anyone like him.” She started to sob again. “Oh, what shall I do? Whatever am I going to do?”
“You might,” Alice said after a moment. “Meet someone like him, I mean. You’re still so young, Gabs. You’ve got time.” Her voice sounded wistful.
“Have I? Have I really? I don’t think so. I’ve been round the block so many times, Alice. I’ve met so many men. Okay, so most of them were just out for what they could get, but I have met one or two good ones as well. But never anyone like him. There — there just isn’t anyone like him.”
“Would you want to — to be with anyone like that? Anyone — well, that good?” Mavis asked.
“You mean, I could never be good enough for him.”
“No, that’s not what I meant.”
“Well, you’d have a point. I’m not good enough. Not nearly good enough. But I could change. I would change. I’ve never wanted to change before — never really seen the need — but he’s shown me what I might be. He’s made me realise that I could be a — well, a better person. And I’d like to be a better person, for him. I’d do anything — anything — for him. To make him happy. But of course, now I’ll never have the chance.” She plucked at the grass and then wiped her hand on her jeans. “And I’m worried about him. How he is. How he’s coping. I’ve put him in this — this terrible situation, and I can’t do anything to help him out of it.”
“He’ll be all right,” Alice said. “He’s got his God, and I’m sure there’ll be good support for him. This kind of thing must happen quite often.” She squeezed Gabs’ shoulder. “And you’ll be all right too, one day. Not yet, maybe. But one day.”
“Yeah, I guess.” Gabs wiped away tears. “But I’ll never be the same again.”
“Is that a bad thing?”
“Probably not. But I would have liked to change for him. There isn’t anyone else to change for. I know that sounds silly, but no one else really cares how I am. My friends think my lifestyle’s a bit of a laugh, and of course Steph disapproves. But no one really cares.”
“We care, don’t we, Mavis? Not in a judging kind of way, but because it would be good if you could be really happy. And I can’t believe that your lifestyle, as you put it, makes you happy.”
“Ah, but the money does,” said Gabs, with the glimmer of a smile.
“Gabs, you’re incorrigible!”
“Yeah. That’s my trouble, isn’t it?”
“Bad,” Maudie said through a mouthful of doughnut. “Bad!”
“Oh, Maudie, if you only knew.” Gabs got up and rescued half a sandwich that had become stranded on its journey down Maudie’s substantial bosom. “If you only knew. Anyway, enough about me. How are you, Alice?”
“Pretty bloody,” Alice said. “Jay and I had this weekend together, and I practically ruined it. If Jay hadn’t been so understanding, it would have been completely wasted. Bugger, I think that’s my mobile.” She got up and retrieved her bag from the back seat of the car.
The others waited as Alice spoke on the phone. Evidently the news wasn’t good.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, beginning to gather up her things. “I have to go. Finn’s had an accident.”
“What kind of accident?” Mavis asked.
“He’s in A & E. They think he’s broken his arm.”
“Heavens! Is he okay?” Gabs asked.
“They say he is, but they’ve been trying to get me for the last hour, and I didn’t hear my phone. Apparently Trot’s with him.”
“Well, that’s something,” Mavis said.
“You don’t know Trot. He’s no use at all in an emergency.” Alice paused. “I’m afraid that means you’ll all have to come with me, because of the car. But at least it’s on the way back to Maudie’s place. Is that okay?”
“Of course,” said Gabs, who had an appointment with Gerald later on and had not been looking forward to it (things had moved way beyond Best in Show at Crufts, and she would be glad of an excuse to cancel him).
“Let’s go, then.”
They arrived at the hospital half an hour later, and after some discussion, Alice went on ahead while Gabs and Mavis commandeered a wheelchair for Maudie, who appeared to be sound asleep. This could take some time, and they could hardly leave her in the car.
When they caught up with Alice, she and Finn were waiting for Finn’s arm to be plastered. Trot had apparently gone in search of tea.
“How’s it going?” Gabs asked.
“Painful,” said Finn, nursing his arm. “Fractured radius.”
“How did you do it?”
“I fell off a radiator.”
“How on earth…?”
“Don’t ask,” said Alice, who was obviously not in the best of moods.
Finn pulled a face at Gabs, who winked at him.
“Bad,” remarked Maudie, who had woken up.
“Too right,” said Finn.
“Slumpish.”
“I’ll say.”
Trot appeared with two polystyrene cups of tea. He too brightened when he saw Gabs.
“Well, hi,” he said. Then he turned to Alice. “You took your time,” he said.
“I didn’t hear my mobile.”
“Good job I had mine, then.”
“There’s no need to look so smug, Trot. I think this must be the first time you’ve ever actually had to be on medical standby, and I’m sure you did an excellent job.”
“Fucking animal,” said Maudie, yawning.
“What?” Trot handed tea to Finn.
“Don’t mind Mother,” Mavis said. “She doesn’t mean it.”
“Oh yes, she does. We had an — incident with a monkey,” Alice said. “It got into the car in the safari park.”
“I wish I’d been there!” Finn said.
“No, you don’t,” Alice told him. “Believe me, no one needs a monkey in the car.”
“I have to make a phone call,” Gabs said. “I’ll be back.”
She went out into the carpark and dialled Gerald’s number. He would be cross and disappointed, but it couldn’t be helped. She rarely let her clients down — it was bad for business — but this was unavoidable.
Gerald’s phone was switched off, which was a relief, so she left him a message. The Gerald thing was getting out of hand, and it was really time to call it a day, but the money was good and she knew he’d be terribly upset if she were to discontinue their meetings. Last week, he had actually proposed to her, and for a brief moment, Gabs had had a nightmarish image of herself walking down the aisle in her wedding dress, with Gerald padding along beside her wearing his diamond-studded collar and lead, all panting tongue and dangling balls. Of course, it wouldn’t really have been like that. When he wasn’t with Gabs, Gerald was a chartered accountant who played golf on Saturdays and lived a perfectly respectable life. Most of them did. But even if she wanted to marry him — even if he gave up his dog act altogether — she would never be able to see him as anything else.
As she walked back towards the hospital, Gabs wondered why it was that she had never received a proposal from a normal man. It wasn’t as though she never met any. But such proposals as she had had included one from a divorced brain surgeon with a predilection for sheepskin rugs and high heels (he wore the heels), and a wannabe dairy farmer, who pretended to milk Gabs’ substantial breasts into a galvanised iron bucket. Hardly husband material, even for someone as unconventional as Gabs.
She took a small mirror out of her bag and inspected her face. She looked a mess — all puffy eyes and streaks of mascara — but for once, she couldn’t have cared less. She looked at her watch and decided she probably had time for a quick fag.
Mavis was having a most unsettling afternoon. She had been genuinely terrified by the monke
y incident (unlike the others, she didn’t find monkeys particularly cute, and she was quite sure they were riddled with fleas); she was upset at the state of Maudie, and the fact that she would be returning her to the home too late for tea; and she was also disappointed that she hadn’t had the chance to discuss the Clifford situation. But she told herself that no doubt another meeting could be arranged, and in any case, Finn was more important.
Looking at Finn and Alice, and their easy, bantering relationship, Mavis found herself wishing that she too had a son. Not a daughter. She wouldn’t have wanted a daughter. But a son — someone who would depend on her but upon whom later on she could depend; someone who would make her laugh (for Mavis could see that Finn had a good sense of humour); someone who was family. Maudie’s illness had brought home to her the fact that without her mother (and if she didn’t count a distant cousin in New Zealand), she was without any kind of family. She imagined a future of solitary Christmases and holidays with single-room supplements, and an eventual old age without anyone who would care enough to make sure that she was well looked after. No one really loves me, she thought, except Mother. No one at all.
Of course, Clifford loved her in his way, but she could never come first in his life, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to take care of her if she were unable to care for herself. She wasn’t sure that Clifford was capable of taking care of anyone; he had become too self-centred. She tried to imagine him looking after Dorothy if she ever needed it — Clifford hefting Dorothy into those giant knickers; Clifford buttoning blouses and doing zips-ups — and she couldn’t see it happening. Once, when she had broken her wrist, Clifford had tried to help her to dress after their lovemaking, and she had wondered that a man who had on many occasions managed to undo a bra with one hand couldn’t manage to do it up again with two.
Women Behaving Badly_An uplifting, feel-good holiday read Page 25