“You all right, Mave?” Trot asked her. “You look a bit thoughtful.”
“It’s been that kind of afternoon.” Mavis smiled at Trot. He had a kind face, even if he was a bit scruffy and called her Mave. She thought that Alice could do a lot worse than marry him, especially since they had a ready-made family in Finn.
“Read War and Peace yet, have you?” he asked her.
“Don’t worry,” Alice said. “Trot knows the score. He just likes teasing people.”
“As a matter of fact, I have,” Mavis told him.
“Good, is it?”
“Long.”
“Ah. I thought as much.”
At this point, Finn rejoined them, his arm plastered in a fetching shade of red.
“They let you choose the colour,” he told them. He seemed to have cheered up.
“At least it’s your left arm,” Alice said. “You’ll still be able to do your homework.”
Finn scowled at her.
“Give the poor guy a break,” Trot said.
“Just for tonight, then.” Alice patted Finn’s shoulder. “Right. Home everyone. We’ll take Maudie first.”
“Can I help?” Trot asked.
“You could take Finn, and give him something to eat.”
“Sorry. Got a date.”
“Then why offer?” Alice asked him.
“It’s what you do, isn’t it?”
“Only if you mean it. So I suggest you cancel your date and look after your son. We won’t be long.”
Trot grumbled and complained, but he took Finn with him, and the others piled back into Alice’s car. Mavis marvelled at the ease with which Gabs managed to manhandle Maudie into the front seat, barely waking her in the process (Maudie, exhausted by what had been a long and eventful day, had gone back to sleep), before settling herself beside Mavis in the back.
By the time they reached Maudie’s institution, it was after nine o’clock, and there was much unlocking and unbolting of doors before a nurse eventually came to meet them.
“Maudie’s in the car,” Alice told her. “Could we have a wheelchair, please?”
“You’ll need the hoist.”
“We can manage without the hoist,” Gabs said. “You get the chair and leave it to me.”
“But we have to use it. Because of health and safety.”
“Bugger health and safety. And I don’t have to do anything. I’m nothing to do with this place.”
“Well, there’s no need to talk to me like that!”
“We’re all tired,” said Mavis, who could see things getting out of hand. “It’s been a long day.”
The chair was fetched, and the sleeping Maudie was moved into it with amazing ease, considering Gabs’ diminutive size. Even the nurse seemed impressed.
She wasn’t quite so impressed when she had had a proper look at Maudie.
“Oh dear,” she said. “What have we been doing?”
“We,” said Alice, “have entertained a monkey in the car, had a very sticky picnic, and spent three hours in A & E.”
“Oh dear. What’s happened to her clothes?”
“Monkey pee,” Alice told her.
The nurse looked at her suspiciously. “Has she had anything to eat?”
“Since lunch? Two bags of crisps and a bar of chocolate.”
“Oh dear.”
“There wasn’t anything else. And perhaps you could stop saying ‘oh dear’ and help us get her to her room.”
While Mavis admired the way Alice spoke to the night nurse (she herself would never have dared to be so bold), she felt that she should be the one to take charge. After all, she was Maudie’s daughter.
“I’m sorry she’s in such a state,” she said. “I did phone to say we’d be late.”
The nurse’s expression softened. “Yes, I got the message. Well, you’d better come along.”
“What, all of us?” Mavis asked.
“Well, I haven’t got time to put her to bed; I’ve got the hot drinks and the medicines to do.”
“And I have a wounded son to get home to,” Alice said.
“That’s not my problem.”
“But Maudie is?” Alice told her.
“It’s all right,” said Mavis hastily. “I’ll get her ready for bed and get a taxi home. You two go. I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll stay,” Gabs said. “It’ll be quicker with two of us. And,” she added, as the nurse was still hovering, “we shan’t be needing any hoist.”
In Maudie’s room, Gabs whipped off Maudie’s clothes and gave her a quick wash while Mavis looked out a clean nightie (someone else’s, naturally, but that seemed to be par for the course).
“There,” Gabs said. “Good as new.” She cleaned Maudie’s dentures and put them on her bedside table, then levered her into bed and tucked her in. “Time to go.” She kissed Maudie’s cheek. “Bye, Maudie.”
Maudie opened one eye. “Fucking animal,” she said.
In the back of their shared taxi, Mavis had an overwhelming desire to weep. She was exhausted, she was worried about Maudie, and she couldn’t see any end to an existence that seemed to be fraught with difficulties.
“You okay?” Gabs asked her.
“Not really.”
“Poor Mavis.” Gabs put an arm round her. “Things aren’t easy for you at the moment, are they?”
“I shouldn’t bother you with my problems. You’ve got enough of your own.”
“We’ve done my problems,” said Gabs. “It’s your turn now.”
“Well, it’s just that there doesn’t seem to be anything to look forward to. I know that sounds ridiculous. I’m not a child. I should be able to live without — treats and nice things happening.”
“We all need treats,” Gabs said. “Even tiny ones. Little pegs to hang our lives on, give them a lift.” She passed Mavis a tissue. “What about Clifford? He being any use?”
“Not a lot. He’s too preoccupied with his own problems.”
“But he’s okay now, isn’t he?”
“Yes. Yes, he is. But d’you know, I think he’d almost rather that he wasn’t. He likes to be the centre of attention, and now that his operation’s over, the attention’s died down a bit. I think he misses it.”
“He sounds to me like a selfish bastard,” Gabs said. “He seems to walk all over you.”
“Sometimes it does feel a bit like that.” For a brief moment, Mavis wondered why she hadn’t leapt to Clifford’s defence. “But he never used to be like this. He’s changed since he retired. He can still be very kind, very sweet.”
“But not at the moment.”
“No. Not at the moment.”
“Which is when you need him, isn’t it?” Gabs got out a packet of chewing gum and put a piece in her mouth. “Stops me thinking about the ciggies,” she explained. “Want some?”
“No, thanks.”
“Mavis, why do you stay with him?”
“I keep asking myself that,” Mavis said. “And I don’t really know.”
“Is it because there isn’t anyone else?”
“I suppose that’s part of it. And we go back a long way.”
“He’s a habit, then.”
“In a way. And I do love — well, I’m very fond of him. Most of the time.”
“Who are you trying to convince?”
“Myself, I suppose. And then there’s — there’s the sex.”
“Good, is it?”
“Well, it was. But now Clifford likes to choose what we do — because of his heart, he says — and I don’t always like it.”
“What is it he wants exactly?”
Mavis blushed and whispered something in Gabs’ ear.
“Mmm. You’re right.” Gabs popped another piece of gum in her mouth. “A lot of women wouldn’t do that. There’s more to you than meets the eye, Mavis.”
“But I suppose it’s better than nothing,” Mavis said. “If Clifford and I finished, would I ever have any kind of — physical relationship again?”
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“Course you would. There are plenty of blokes out there, Mavis. You’ve got lovely eyes and nice boobs. You underestimate yourself.”
That night, after Mavis had got home, Clifford phoned. She told him about the outing to the safari park, but he didn’t seem particularly interested, merely remarking that they had been “very stupid to let that old woman open the car window.”
“And how’ve you been?” Mavis asked him, biting her tongue.
“Well, I’ve had this pain in my leg, and I’m a bit concerned. I’ve got a friend who knows about these things, and he says it could be something called intermittent claudication. I looked it up, and I’ve got all the symptoms.”
Mavis sighed. It had been a very long day, and all she wanted was a hot bath and her bed. She listened for a few more minutes, and then very gently, almost apologetically, she replaced the receiver.
She was surprised to find that she hardly felt guilty at all.
Part Six
Alice
As soon as Alice heard Jay’s tone of voice on the phone, she knew that Angela had had her baby. On the surface, his greeting was the same as usual, but she knew him too well not to hear the undercurrent of excitement.
“Angela’s had the baby, hasn’t she?” she said.
“How did you know?”
“Call it feminine intuition.”
“Ah.”
“Well, aren’t you going to tell me all about it?”
“Oh, Alice. I didn’t know how to do this. I thought of asking to see you and telling you face-to-face, but —”
“Like giving someone bad news, you mean?”
“No. Of course not. But I knew it was going to be difficult.”
“You mean, you knew I was going to be difficult,” said Alice, knowing that that was exactly what was already happening. She was overcome with sudden nausea, and sat down on a kitchen chair.
“Not at all. But I can imagine how you must feel.”
“Can you?”
“I’ve a pretty good idea.”
“Well, tell me. Tell me how I feel, Jay, and then I won’t have to go to the bother of finding out for myself.”
“Alice, please.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry, really I am. And I’m being pretty ungenerous, too. So do tell me about it. I want to know; of course I do.”
“Well, she went into labour yesterday afternoon. The baby was born early this morning.”
“And you were there?”
“Of course I — yes, I was there. She wanted me there.”
As she questioned Jay, Alice knew that she was pouring salt into her own wounds; it was almost as though she were trying to get all the pain out of the way quickly. For naturally, Jay would have been there. Nowadays, wasn’t it rare for fathers not to be present at the births of their children?
Apart from a formidably businesslike midwife, there hadn’t been anyone with her when Finn was born. She had asked her mother whether she would like to be present when her grandson came into the world, but her response (“No thank you, dear. I’ll see you both when you’re all tidied up”) had been unequivocal.
“And everything went all right?” she asked now.
“Everything went fine. Angela was very — no, you don’t need to hear that. She had a good labour, and we’ve got our daughter.”
“And she’s beautiful.”
“Of course. We think so, anyway.”
Oh, how that “we” seemed to cut into her, like a knife. Before the baby, Jay had rarely referred to himself and Angela in that way, and Alice had managed to persuade herself that they weren’t really a couple at all — or if they were, it was in name only. The baby had changed all that.
She pulled herself together. “What are you going to call her?” she asked.
“Arabella.”
“Oh.” Alice hated what she thought of as frilly names, and Arabella was not without frills.
“Not your kind of name, I know, but Angela likes it.”
“And you? Do you like it?” It was an unnecessary question, but Alice wanted to know.
“It’s — okay. I’ll get used to it.”
Alice felt a small tingle of pleasure. If Jay had been the one to choose the baby’s name or if he had been more enthusiastic about what they had called her, she would have found it even more hard to bear.
“So, I guess congratulations are in order.”
“Congratulations would be nice.”
“Oh, Jay, I do congratulate you. Of course I do. It’s wonderful news, and you must be so thrilled.”
But Alice knew that her good wishes had come too late and that Jay was hurt. How could she do this to him? On this, which must — or certainly should — be one of the happiest days of his life, how could she not be happy for the man she was supposed to love? And yet she was overcome with misery, not just because Angela was probably at this moment holding Jay’s baby in her arms, but because she, Alice, was such a nasty, jealous person that she hadn’t even been able to act as though she were happy for him.
“You’ll be able to have bonfire birthday parties,” she said now, trying to remedy the situation.
“What?”
“You know. Children’s birthday parties can be a nightmare, but as hers is so near to Guy Fawkes, she’ll be able to have fireworks.”
“I suppose she will.”
But the moment was lost. Alice had had her chance — and goodness knows, she had had enough time to prepare for it — and she had blown it.
“So — I expect you’ve got lots to do?”
“Yes. Yes, I have.”
“Goodbye, then.”
“Goodbye, Alice.”
For a long time, Alice sat on at the kitchen table, gazing out of the window at the leaden sky of a dank November morning. She didn’t cry — as far as Jay’s baby was concerned, she had done all her crying weeks ago — but she felt a bleak emptiness that she had never felt before. She knew that her behaviour had been unforgivable and that Jay must be angry as well as hurt. But she also knew that even had her congratulations been fulsome and sincere, it wouldn’t really have changed anything. She had known — they had both known — that the writing was on the wall. Their relationship had weathered all kinds of storms; there had been rows and misunderstandings in abundance. But they had never had to face anything as big as this, and Alice knew that there could only be one conclusion. How odd that something as small, as innocent, as a newborn baby should be the one unsurvivable obstacle to a relationship that had once seemed indestructible.
But if Alice thought she had reached rock bottom, there was more to come.
“Trot and I want to talk to you,” Finn told her over their lunch of sandwiches.
“That sounds very portentous.” Alice pushed away her plate, deciding she wasn’t hungry.
“If you’re not eating that, can I have it?”
“Be my guest. So what’s this all about?”
“Best to wait till Trot comes,” said Finn through a mouthful of sandwich. “He’ll be here at teatime.”
“And wants feeding, I suppose.”
“Thanks, Mum. He said you’d offer.”
“Did he now?”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t trust you two.”
Finn grinned. “Trot and me are perfectly trustworthy.”
“Trot and I.”
“What?”
“Oh, never mind.”
Trot turned up promptly at five. Alice thought he looked ill at ease and wondered what on earth he was up to.
“Could I have a beer?” he asked.
“Of course. We’ll all have one.” Alice fetched three cans from the fridge. “Now, what’s this all about, Trot? I hope it’s not one of your silly games.”
“No silly game,” said Trot, opening his can and taking a long swig.
“What, then?”
Trot and Finn exchanged glances.
“It’s like this.” Trot put down his beer and leaned forward in his chair. “
I never had a gap year.”
“It seems to me that your whole life has been one long gap year,” Alice remarked.
“I never had a gap year,” Trot continued, ignoring her. “And Finn would like one, wouldn’t you, Finn?”
“Too right,” said Finn.
“So, we thought we might have one together.”
“When?” asked Alice, with a feeling of foreboding. “When exactly were you and Finn thinking of taking this — this break from your labours?”
“Well, the thing is —” Finn began.
“When, Finn? Just tell me. When? Not a difficult question.”
“After — after my GCSEs. More beer, anyone?” Finn made to get up.
“Finn, sit down. What on earth are you talking about? Of course you can’t take a gap year after your GCSEs. What about A Levels? You’ll have two more years before you can even think about gap years.”
“He doesn’t want to do A Levels,” Trot said. “Not yet, anyway.”
“He doesn’t want to do A Levels,” Alice repeated. “What a mature decision. He’s not yet taken his GCSEs, and he’s already decided, has he?”
“Well, yeah.” Finn looked uneasy.
Alice took several deep breaths. This was not a time to lose her temper. “And whose idea was this — this gap year?” she asked.
“Mine.” Trot and Finn spoke together, then looked at each other and giggled.
“It was your idea, Trot, wasn’t it?”
“Well, not exactly. We were discussing it, and Finn said he wanted to travel, and I’ve always wanted to, and it seemed like a good idea. It’d be safer with two of us,” he added (the only sensible thing he’d said so far).
“I really don’t want to do A Levels, Mum. I’ve never wanted to. I’ve told you and told you, but you won’t listen.”
“If he gets good GCSEs, he’ll be fine,” said Trot, who as far as Alice was aware knew nothing at all about the importance of further education (and was also living proof that a disregard for qualifications was no guarantee of success in life).
“Let me get this straight,” Alice said. “Finn is going to do his GCSEs, and then the two of you are just going to — to bugger off round the world. Is that it?”
“That’s about the size of it,” Trot agreed.
Women Behaving Badly_An uplifting, feel-good holiday read Page 26