The Making of Minty Malone

by Isabel Wolff

  ‘I …’

  ‘You’ve never taken any risks. Or done anything daring. You’ve never even travelled.’

  ‘Only because I’m terrified of flying. It’s a phobia.’

  ‘No, it’s not, it’s an excuse. It’s not the flying you were scared of, Dom. It’s what you might find at the other end. You’ve never challenged yourself in any way. And you certainly never challenged me. You’re just so, so boring, Dominic. You’re very attractive,’ I added. ‘But you’re so boring. I thought I’d die of boredom when I was with you.’

  ‘Now look here, Minty, I –’

  ‘And I wouldn’t have minded so much if you’d at least been decent and kind. But you weren’t. You were the opposite. You spent most of the time undermining me. You took my kindness for granted. You sapped my confidence and sense of self. You controlled what I said, what I did, and what I wore.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you complain, if it was as bad as you say?’

  ‘It’s extraordinary, isn’t it? You’re quite right. Why didn’t I complain? Because I was too nice, that’s why. Because I wanted to keep everything nice and smooth. Because I hated scenes. Because I was afraid to confront you. But I’m not afraid of that now.’

  ‘So I see.’

  ‘I’ve changed, Dominic. Haven’t you noticed? You were always telling me to go and change – and now I have.’

  ‘Yes, I know. I first noticed it when I read those articles about you. You do look different.’ He reached for my hand again. ‘But I don’t mind, Minty.’ I don’t mind???

  ‘I’m not talking about my appearance, Dominic. I’m talking about my self. Who I am. And I’m quite different now – changed, changed utterly, to coin a phrase. I used to be nice, Dominic. Too nice. But I’m not quite so nice any more. I’m not nasty,’ I added quickly. ‘Though you may now think I am. But I’m certainly not nice. Because being nice got me nowhere. And it’s taken me thirty years to find that out.’

  ‘Minty, you’re saying all this because you’re so angry,’ he said. ‘You’re punishing me for what I did. And I knew this might happen, I was ready for it. You don’t mean it, Minty. Let’s face it.’

  ‘No, let’s face this,’ I said, calmly. ‘Let’s face the fact that you’re a wanker. And let’s face the fact that I do mean every word. And if my comments have been a little negative, it’s because I now know that you’ve been lying.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ he said indignantly.

  ‘Yes, you have. Just as you lie to people about your name and about where you went to school. I’m not suggesting that you were lying about the pensions thing, or the fact that you were in a terrible state about it all. But you’ve been lying about your motives for doing what you did. And now, at last, I’ve worked it out.’ I put down my knife and fork. And I looked at him, still careful to maintain the pleasant expression I’d worn all evening.

  ‘The reason why you wanted out was not because you didn’t want to “put me through” the financial crisis you thought you were going to suffer. It was because you realised, no doubt with some regret, that I was no longer rich enough for you to marry in your newly impoverished state.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘I think it is true. And you said that Virginia Park was irrelevant. But she isn’t. Because she told me that she’d met you three weeks before our wedding. And I think – and again, do correct me if I’m wrong – that you decided, then, in your hysterical state, that you were going to ditch me, and marry her. Because even if you lost everything, with all Virginia’s money, you’d be able to maintain your smart lifestyle. But you couldn’t have done that with me. With me you would have had only a Standard Life. We wouldn’t have gone shopping in Bond Street for quite a while.’

  ‘You’re wrong,’ he said again.

  ‘I think I’m right. You see, I didn’t talk to Virginia for long. But it was long enough. And she told me that she knew you before. She also let slip that she’d been very keen. And then you met her again, in July, and there she was – still single. And you knew you’d only have to snap your fingers to have her come running back. But, crucially, you knew that with her you could be Park Lane. And it wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t bring home the bacon for a bit, because she had enough rashers of her own. I think it’s very appropriate, Dominic, that you’re telling me such pork pies.’

  ‘I didn’t want to marry Virginia,’ he said. ‘It was just a temporary insanity. A moment’s madness. She’d have driven me round the bend.’

  ‘No, the reason why you decided you didn’t want to marry her after all is because you knew you were off the hook. The crisis was over. I’ve just remembered something she told me that you said. You told her that you’d made a stupid mistake, and that “everything had changed”. And what had changed is that you were in the clear, so you didn’t need her cash any more.’

  ‘If it was money that motivated me, as you say, I’d have married her anyway. Then I’d have had a fantastic lifestyle, wouldn’t I, with all her money, and mine?’

  ‘That’s true. But you obviously didn’t want to marry her, and that’s why you cancelled the engagement.’

  ‘You’re right,’ he said, bitterly. ‘I didn’t want to marry her.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because she’s a pain,’ he said vehemently. ‘I’d forgotten just what a pain she is. She’s so bossy,’ he went on.

  ‘Unlike you, of course.’

  ‘She was trying to tell me what to do.’

  ‘Heaven forfend.’

  ‘And correcting me.’

  ‘Fancy that.’

  ‘And laying down the law. Trying to set the agenda. But I warned her about this,’ he said, his voice rising. ‘I warned her – but she wouldn’t listen. She wanted to go to the Caribbean and she knew I couldn’t fly, but she said to me, “Look, I don’t give a stuff about your bloody phobia. We’re going to Barbados.” And I said, “No, we’re not. Don’t you realise that half the world’s Jumbo jets are now twenty years old? Don’t you realise that air crash deaths have now reached record levels?” And she said, “If you think I’m never going to Sandy Lane again, you’ve got another think coming, Dominic. No arguing. We’re going. And you’re flying.” Can you imagine, Minty!’ He ran a nervous finger round his collar. ‘She’s not like you, Minty,’ he went on quietly. ‘She’s not sweet and nice, like you.’

  ‘That’s why you wanted me back. You remembered, once your crisis had passed, how sweet and nice I’d been. How compliant. How uncomplaining. What a dull little doormat I’d become.’

  ‘Oh God, I wish this nightmare had never happened,’ he whined. ‘It was all a false alarm. I wish we could just put the clock back. We can put the clock back, Minty.’

  ‘No, we can’t. I’d never realised quite how shallow you were, Dominic, until today. Until today I had never really fathomed the bottomless depths, as it were, of your shallowness. And now I have.’

  ‘Don’t you understand? I was in a state, I wasn’t thinking clearly.’

  ‘On the contrary,’ I replied, ‘you were thinking with calculated clarity. It was just the timing of it all you got wrong. And to think, all this time I’ve been blaming myself, Dominic! But it wasn’t my fault at all.’

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘It was mine. Mine.’ He raked his right hand through his hair. ‘Oh God, I’m a silly arse.’

  ‘Oh no, Dominic. You’re not,’ I said. ‘That’s unfair.’ I leant forward, and whispered, ‘You’re much, much worse.’ He didn’t reply. ‘It was all about money,’ I went on quietly. ‘That’s what it was about. That’s why I was totally humiliated in front of two hundred and eighty people. That’s why I’ve spent most of the last nine months in a state of acute mental distress. Because you thought you were going to lose your money.’ He stared at the table cloth. And then I remembered something else he’d said in church.

  ‘And that lie you told, that lie about being “deeply religious”.’

  ‘I am deeply religious,’ he said.
‘It’s just that you’ve never bothered to find that out.’

  ‘But it was a part of you I never saw, so how on earth was I to know? Do forgive me, Dominic, for misjudging you. And as you’re so deeply religious, I’m sure you’ll be able to tell me what day it is today.’

  ‘What day? It’s Thursday, of course. What do you mean “what day”?’

  ‘Ah, but it’s not just any old Thursday, Dom, it’s Maundy Thursday today. Do you know what that commemorates? You’re deeply religious, so you’ll know.’ He looked blank.

  ‘Christ’s last supper,’ I informed him. ‘That’s what it commemorates. It’s our last supper too, by the way. And do you know what traditionally happens on Maundy Thursday?’

  ‘No,’ he said testily. ‘I don’t.’

  ‘The monarch distributes special, newly minted coins to the poor.’

  ‘You’re so knowledgeable,’ he said sarcastically.

  ‘Well, I confess we covered it in the programme today for one of our Easter reports so that does give me a head start. Newly minted coins,’ I said, again, wonderingly, now. ‘Newmint, Dominic, like me.’

  ‘Well,’ he said, ‘this evening hasn’t been much of a success.’

  ‘On the contrary, Dominic. It’s been wonderful. I’m so glad I saw you again. But now I’m going to go home.’

  ‘Look, I made a terrible mistake,’ he said, as he saw me stand up. ‘What more do you want me to say?’

  ‘What more? Nothing. I’m quite satisfied.’

  ‘Minty, think of what a nice life we could have.’

  ‘A nice life?’

  ‘Yes. We could have a lovely house in Wandsworth.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  ‘We could be a powerful couple, Minty.’ Powerful? Ah. He did a little scribble in the air for the bill.

  ‘I don’t want to be powerful,’ I said as I picked up my bag. ‘I just want to be happy. And I could never have been happy with someone as low as you. Thanks for supper, Dom,’ I added with a smile. ‘I’m so glad I saw you again. CU next Tuesday!’ I exclaimed happily. Puzzlement furrowed his brow.

  ‘See you next Tuesday?’ he said. ‘See you next Tuesday?’

  ‘Think about it,’ I said. Then I left.

  April

  ‘APRIL FOOL!’ I said to myself this morning when I glanced at the calendar. ‘I’m the biggest April Fool there is! And I’m a May Fool too, and a June Fool, and I was especially foolish in July, when I very “Nearly Wed” that contemptible man.’

  Well, I’m not going to be a fool any more, I determined as I stood under the shower. Because at last I’d got everything sussed. I’d worked it all out. I’d suffered in the process, but it was worth it. Because I was reborn. I was new-Mint. At last, at last, I could move on. I said I was going to come through this, and I had. I felt as new as an Easter chick. I’d pecked my way out of my hard little shell, and I was going to stand in the sun, and thrive. ‘It was all Dominic’s fault,’ I said to myself wonderingly. It was nothing to do with me. I’d tortured myself for months, but I wasn’t to blame in any way. In the end, the answer was simple – money. Cash. Lucre. Loot. Moolah. Profit and loss. It was as easy, and as brutal, as that. I was simply a casualty of his cupidity.

  Thank God for Virginia Pork, I realised as I got dressed. Without her intervention I’d never have known just how low – how shal-low – Dominic was. Her unexpected phone call had been crucial. She had saved my psychological bacon. And so I smiled benignly at my fellow travellers as I rattled southwards on the Tube. Though there were fewer of them than usual because it was Good Friday. Indeed it was. A very Good Friday. It was a fantastic Friday because, at last – at last – I’d been set free. I glanced at my watch. Five to nine. I didn’t have to be at work until ten. So I didn’t go down to the Angel. I got off at Embankment instead. And I walked along the Strand in the lemony sunshine with only a slight pang as I passed the Waldorf. But today it felt different. It wasn’t a stab of regret for what might have been. It was simply a pang for all the pain and crap that Dominic had made me endure. I crossed the Aldwych then carried on down Fleet Street, past the Law Courts and the old Express building, past Prêt à Manger, and then I turned right, into St Bride’s. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but it was something I had to do. It was an essential part of the process – the final act of letting go.

  After hovering for a moment in the porch, I went inside. It was empty. Completely empty. And it felt as warm as breath. Today the flowers were yellow for Easter joy – a sunburst of daffodil buds and creamy tulips, and stiff stems of golden forsythia. I walked up the aisle once more, hearing my footsteps tap across the tiles, then I halted at the very same spot where I had stood with Dominic in July. And as I inhaled the honeyed scent of the beeswax, the echoing voices returned, like ghosts:

  ‘– Wilt thou?’ Wilt thou?

  ’– No.’ No. No.

  ‘– sickness and in health.’ Sickness.

  ‘– just can’t.’ Just can’t, just can’t.

  ‘– Come on, Dom.’ Come on.

  ‘– bound to come unstuck.’ Unstuck.

  ‘– Sshh! Madame!’ Ssshhh!

  ‘– Don’t slip!’ Don’t slip, don’t slip!

  And then I looked up at the ceiling and tried to imagine seeing sky instead, and the walls all blackened and charred, and every pew on fire. That’s what happened to me, I thought. I was bombed too. I was reduced to rubble, left a gaping, broken shell. And I thought I’d never recover. But now I knew I would. I had been restored. I would be just as I was, yet different. A reconstruction of my former self, using fabric that wasn’t there before. I thought I ought to say something, but I didn’t quite know what. So I simply said, ‘Thank you!’ quite loudly, and then I decided to go. And as I made for the door I passed a noticeboard marked ‘Intercessions’. It was thickly plastered with little handwritten requests for prayers. ‘Please pray that Julian and I will see each other again,’ said one; ‘Please pray for Alice, who is gravely ill,’ implored a second; ‘Please pray for my son, Tom, who is worried about his exams,’ asked a third; and then I read, ‘Please pray for my daughter, Minty, who is very unhappy.’ It was in Dad’s handwriting. He must have come back, after the wedding, because he wouldn’t have had time on the day. And I took it down, because I didn’t really need prayers so much any more. Then I wiped my eyes and walked to work.

  ‘From the sublime to the ridiculous.’ What an apt expression that is, I thought, as I stared at Wesley half an hour later. He did indeed look ridiculous. In fact, he looked bizarre. Not because he was dressed oddly or had shaved his head, but because he looked nine months pregnant. He …ah! I remembered what day it was and gave him a superior smile.

  ‘You can’t April Fool me,’ I said. ‘I know what you’re up to.’

  ‘It’s not an April Fool, Minty,’ he replied seriously as he rubbed his protruding stomach.

  I stared at him. What else could it be? He looked as though he was about to give birth. In fact, he looked like that man in the silly poster ad which was supposed to encourage men to ‘take responsibility’.

  ‘Wesley, if it isn’t an April Fool, then what is it?’ I enquired.

  ‘I’m empathising.’

  ‘You’re doing what?’

  ‘I’m empathising. With Deirdre. So that I fully understand what she’s experiencing.’ He lifted his jumper to reveal what looked like a bulging green canvas bullet-proof vest tied with tape to his front.

  ‘It’s an empathy belly,’ he explained. ‘It’s for men. So they can really appreciate what their pregnant partners are going through.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘They’re American,’ he explained. ‘I bought it on the Internet. You can’t get them over here.’

  ‘Thank God you can’t,’ I said. ‘It looks awful. I mean, what self-respecting British man would wear one?’

  ‘Well …I would,’ Wesley replied with a slightly wounded air. ‘I think it’s a good idea. You can add stuffing to it, as the ba
by develops. Deirdre and I are six months gone,’ he explained. Then he stood up, and pressed his fingers into the small of his back.

  ‘Ooh, me back’s killing me,’ he said.

  ‘Wesley!’

  ‘I’ll be glad when it’s all over.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’

  ‘I get these terrible cramps –’

  ‘Spare us!’

  ‘And I keep wanting to puke.’

  ‘Please, Wesley!’ I pleaded with a laugh. ‘We had enough of that with Melinda.’

  ‘You know she’s coming back, don’t you?’ he said as he got out his Mothercare guide.

  ‘WHAT?’ The smile fell off my face and crashed to the floor.

  ‘Melinda’s coming back. Didn’t you know?’ I stared at him, aghast.

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘It’s OK, Minty. Don’t worry – your job’s safe. She’s going to be working the graveyard shift.’

  ‘The nutters phone-in?’

  ‘Two a.m. until four. Jack had some gaps in the rota, and says she’ll be all right for that because she won’t have to write a script.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘All she has to do is stay awake and yak to all the crazies.’

  ‘I’m surprised she accepted after the appalling row they had.’

  ‘Well, apparently, she’s desperate to come back and “bwoadcast”, and Jack was equally desperate to find someone willing to do it. Talk of the devil-’ Wesley added.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Jack cheerfully. He’s so much happier these days. ‘The office looks very tidy,’ he said suspiciously. ‘Did the cleaners slip up and remember to come? Wesley, I can’t help wondering why you’ve got a pillow stuffed up your jumper.’

  ‘It isn’t a pillow. It’s an empathy belly. For pregnant men.’

  ‘I see,’ said Jack. ‘Good morning, Minty,’ he added. ‘You look happy. In fact, you look blooming.’

  ‘Blooming?’ I said, wonderingly. ‘Do I?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘you do. Positively blooming.’ He picked up Wesley’s Mother and Baby book, then gave me a sideways smile. ‘You’re not in love, are you?’