Starlight pulled her thumb out of her mouth and pointed to one of the pictures, ‘Ba-ba,’ She said, conversationally.
‘Clever girl,’ said Mary.
Presently Miriam brought Mary a cup of tea. While she was drinking it Les wandered in and sank down on the settee next to her. He looked grey with weariness, his skin the colour of newspaper. The children’s game was getting quite exciting and their shouts of triumph or indignation meant that he could speak frankly to Mary without being overheard.
‘What a mess June’s made of things Mary, eh? I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’
Mary put her hand on his arm. Here was a man, she thought to herself, who was kindness itself, a gentleman, quiet and capable, a man who would know how to treat a lady. June did not deserve him. ‘We all understand that it isn’t your doing, Les.’
‘I wanted to go home last night. I told her we ought to go first thing this morning.’ He shook his head sadly and looked away from Mary. ‘Of course, she wouldn’t hear of it. Now we know why.’
‘You had no idea, then?’
‘No. Of course not. She wouldn’t tell me, anyway. She always has been a law unto herself.’
Mary nodded her understanding. ‘Haven’t they both? Haven’t they both.’
Les got out his pipe and began to fiddle with it. He addressed his next few comments to it. ‘I’ve told our Sandra that she’s to leave first thing in the morning and I’ve told her she was wrong to come and wrong to bring Mother.’
‘Poor girl. She only did what June said.’
‘Maybe. But she’s old enough now to make up her own mind about what’s right, and this never was.’ He put his pipe away with a sigh and turned to face Mary. ‘That brings me to June and me. By rights we ought to leave too. We would do, if I had to drag her away by her hair, we would. But things aren’t that simple now. There’s Mother here and it seems she can’t be sent back until Thursday.’
Mary slid her empty teacup onto a nearby table. ‘It doesn’t seem fair on poor Belinda. She has enough to cope with, with the rest of us.’
Starlight heaved a huge sigh and laid her head against Mary’s breast.
‘That’s right, sweetness. You have a little nap on Grandma,’ said Mary, pulling her fingers through the wiry silkiness of Starlight’s hair.
‘No, so June and me will stay and we’ll look after Mother. It’s the best I can do.’ He looked her earnestly in the eye. His eyes were brown, flecked with green. A cataract on one of them gave it an opaque, gelatinous film. ‘Then, first thing Thursday, we’ll take her back. That’ll mean that you’ll have your anniversary celebration with just your family, as you always planned. But, look Mary,’ he put his hand on her knee, ‘we can look after Robert as well, I’ll see to that, so you can get out and about a bit with the others. You’ll like that, eh?’ He sat back a little and observed her with greater perspective. ‘You look done in. You deserve a rest and a proper break. You’ve always had it hard, Mary. Robert was a hard man to live with before he was took funny, and now it’s no easier, is it?’
‘No, you’re right, it’s no easier.’ Mary felt tears gathering behind her eyes. She buried her face in Starlight’s hair. She’d had such a difficult day and was over-tired. At the same time, being here amongst her family, and watching the children together had made her feel over-emotional. Now the kindness of this lovely man seemed to make all her feelings enlarge, like milk boiling in a pan. He’d always been such a comfort to her. It was so like him to put her first. Les seemed to discern her feelings and he gently took her hand in his.
‘The fact is,’ he said quietly, ‘June was never the right woman for me, just like Robert was never right for you. It’s hard, isn’t it, to look back on your life and know that the most important decision you ever made was wrong.’ All kinds of shutters began slamming closed in Mary’s head. She almost snatched her hand away. The question was a completely no-go area, like a boarded up house, a blocked off street, it was a route that she could never, ever allow herself to travel.
He sensed her reluctance. ‘I know. I know it isn’t anything you will ever have considered, but I have, and...’ he seemed to struggle to complete his sentence. Mary’s hand remained in his. She realised that she was almost holding her breath. Starlight’s head resting on her breast was like a weight of anticipation. ‘And,’ Les went on, finally, ‘well,’ he breathed out, a long breath, ‘there it is.’
‘I’m not sure what you’re saying, Les.’
Over by the board game a scuffle broke out between Toby and Todd over a disputed game-piece. Rob separated the two boys easily and tried to restore order but neither brother would agree to the other’s actually having won the piece and the game began to break up.
‘What a shame and we were winning, too,’ said Rob. Rachel looked shiny eyed at his use of the plural pronoun. She had liked sitting next to him. He had smelled nice, of shower gel, and his hair was shiny and smooth instead of spiky and black. Once or twice in reaching across to collect a playing-piece her arm had brushed him and once, in passing him the dice, their hands had touched. It had made her mouth dry and caused an odd lurch in the pit of her tummy.
‘Can’t we carry on?’ she pleaded for his sake.
‘I was getting a bit bored, anyway,’ said Ellie. ‘I think I’ll go and put my pyjamas on.’
‘I’d quite like a bath,’ said Tansy. The two girls left the room.
‘Sod you then. I’m going back to Fatal Blow,’ said Rob mulishly and stalked away. Toby scampered after him. Todd and Ben began a playful scuffle under the snooker table. Rachel, left alone, began wearily to tidy away the game.
Les wished he could light his pipe but he knew he mustn’t inside the house. He took a deep breath, and turned to face Mary again. He lowered his voice so that she had to lean towards him to catch his words.
‘What I’m saying Mary is that sometimes we get the chance to put right things we have done wrong. I’m going to try and take that chance. Life isn’t quite over for us yet and we have to make the most of what we have left.’
Mary allowed the tears to roll unchecked down her cheeks. Her hand was trembling but Les held it firmly between his. She couldn’t think of any words to express her feelings but then words had, so often, been unnecessary between them. She thought about Robert - his child-like dependency, his mental frailty, his rages which still, occasionally, flared through the obfuscated mind - and stood him in her mind against this man. At the same time her sense of loyalty, of propriety and a habitual tendency to self-sacrifice loomed large in her instinct.
Before she could say anything they were interrupted by Toby who put his head round the door to say, ‘There’s another policeman and two ladies in the hall. One of the ladies is asking for you, Uncle Les.’
✽✽✽
On the whole Muriel’s journey by police car had been very agreeable. The nurse who had been dispatched to bring back the old man had been friendly and had listened attentively to Muriel’s stream of conversation. Muriel knew that she spent too many hours alone, and that, even when she had worked at the hospital, her circle of experience had been sadly narrow. Self-consciousness caused her to adopt a line of light-hearted, inconsequential banter which masked her intellectual inadequacies and limited understanding. She knew that Les found her merry chatter charming and funny and undemanding. The nurse seemed to feel the same. She nodded and smiled as Muriel talked, and interjected with an occasional laugh or sigh or exclamation which was entirely satisfactory. The policeman, on the other hand, had been sour and uncommunicative. He had been very reluctant to allow Roger to sit next to Muriel on the seat of his panda car, which was very silly of him as Roger really hadn’t bitten him very hard at all. He had refused to use his sirens and flashing lights and had been very unwilling to pull in at a service station for a comfort stop. He had paid with very bad grace indeed for the afternoon tea and scones Muriel had insisted that they should all have to sustain them when the hour for their evening meal had been
and gone, making an unnecessary fuss about a VAT receipt.
Arriving at this splendid house in the countryside Muriel felt that far more than just a day’s journey had been completed. This was an arrival indeed, through space and time, back into the bosom of her family. No one had heard their knock so they had entered into the lofty hall. The heavy furniture, high, decorated ceiling, polished wood and extravagant flower arrangements were like a film set. The sound of voices at a distance and, nearer at hand, young people and modern music, the faint smell of homemade food, the dying embers of a fire had all fulfilled her every expectation. She had accosted a nice young man – he must be one of her great-nephews, and had not been too disconcerted at all by Roger’s snarl – and asked for Les, although with hindsight she probably should have asked for Simon or Belinda. But the youth went off happily enough to get Les and Muriel waited with her heart in her throat, her battered old suitcase in one hand and Roger’s lead in the other.
Les emerged from a long gallery which led off from the right of the hall. His face betrayed that he had not expected her.
‘Muriel!’ he exclaimed with surprise. Mary, behind him, also spoke her name with a shrillness which suggested that the surprise was not an entirely welcome one. But Les’ amazement gave way instantaneously to a cry of genuine pleasure whereas Mary’s face remained a mask of pure astonishment, and her bafflement did not diminish when she witnessed Les’ approach and kiss. But the germ of discouragement which had festered for a moment in Muriel’s mind was soon smothered by the effusive welcome of all her nieces and her nephew, and of most of their respective partners. Only Elliot seemed confused and less than delighted by her arrival. He, like Mary, hung back, their expressions shouting questions. But the others - they seemed to emerge from every region of the house, though doors and down stairways, crying her name and opening their arms in genuine welcome. In a flurry of introductions her hand was shaken and her cheek kissed while she was led through a hidden door and down a passageway into a warm and inviting kitchen. There her brother was gently awakened and, when he had orientated himself, he bid her welcome with a tear in his eye. The nurse and the policeman took charge of another old gentleman, half dressed, who reclined at the far end of the table. Before she had chance to say goodbye they had escorted him from the house and were gone. But she remained, her coat taken, her suitcase carried upstairs, a cool drink put in her hand and a steaming plate of meat and vegetables placed before her. Roger snapped and snarled at everyone and Muriel laughed at him and told him how silly he was being and reassured everyone that he was a perfect pet and wouldn’t hurt a fly. But Roger unfortunately seemed to be coping very poorly with the stress of so many people. He appeared unable to show off his more amiable characteristics and finally had been taken in hand by Les who took him into the garden to ‘stretch his legs’.
Muriel ate and drank and listened and delighted. She declared herself thrilled to have been invited and more than happy to help with Mother and also willing to baby-sit if the others should wish to go out for an evening. She would join in or sit out, peel and chop, wash and wipe. In short, do whatever would be required of her. After she had eaten Les took her and Roger up to a lovely single room situated just off the main landing and close to a beautiful bathroom. Ruth, Simon, James, Heather, Jude and Robert accompanied them. Progressing up the staircase Muriel felt like the queen on a state visit. Jude carried a sleeping Starlight carefully in his arms and they all whispered so that she should not wake up. James walked next to Robert who leaned heavily upon his son-in-law. Her mother, she was told, was sleeping in the room next door. It was suggested that when she discovered that Mr Burgess had been taken away she might turn awkward.
‘Don’t worry about Mother,’ said Muriel with a grim smile, ‘I can cope with her. I did, you know, for thirty-odd years.’
Belinda had remained in the kitchen to tidy up but was stopped almost immediately by Mary. ‘Belinda,’ she said, a tone of urgency in her voice. ‘Today has been the most peculiar day I can ever remember and the most extra-ordinary things have happened, but this? This beats everything!’
‘What do you mean, Mum?’
‘What on earth is Muriel doing here?’
‘That’s just what I’d like to know,’ blustered Elliot, who had, like Mary, hung back in order to get to the bottom of what was going on.
‘I just don’t understand it. Surely, surely this isn’t June’s doing?’ asked Mary.
‘Oh no. Muriel’s been invited by us. Simon phoned her earlier and she took the opportunity to come with the nurse and the policeman.’
‘Us? Us? No one consulted me on the matter, I can assure you!’ Elliot raged.
‘But then you didn’t consult us about Granny McKay, did you?’ Belinda re-joined, acid on her tongue.
‘She’s been invited by you? Why? What on earth possessed you?’ Mary was so incredulous that she cut across Elliot’s angry retort.
‘To be truthful, Mum, it was a bit of a smack in the eye for June. We know they don’t get on.’
‘Don’t get on? Don’t get on? They’ve hardly spoken to each other for over forty years! She’ll have a fit, she’ll go ballistic when she knows Muriel’s here.’
‘I’m ballistic now!’ shouted Elliot.
‘Don’t mess yourself Dad,’ said Rob coolly, drifting into the kitchen and opening the fridge.
Belinda faced them across the kitchen. ‘Good. I hope June goes home. I’m sorry. I know that sounds very inhospitable but she’s forced her way in here uninvited and put us in an impossible position with Granny so we’re landed with her now as well, not to mention the rest of her revolting family.’
‘I invited June! How many times do I have to say it?’ Elliot was almost shaking with fury. But Belinda, for once, refused to be cowed.
‘You didn’t invite her, Elliot,’ she said, under her breath, her voice like ice. ‘For some obscure reason of your own you made use of the fact that she turned up. You don’t have a good word to say for her, most of the time. I suppose you must have some devious reason...’
‘Have you, Dad?’ Rob turned from the bread board where he was smearing chocolate spread onto slices of white bread. ‘What is it?’
‘Shut up Rob,’ Elliot snapped.
Mary sat down heavily on a chair. ‘Les isn’t revolting,’ she said in a low voice, and then, gathering herself together, ‘Belinda, dear. Do you know why June and Muriel don’t get on?’
Rob pricked up his ears. Belinda polished the draining board energetically. ‘Some argument about a boyfriend, wasn’t it? Didn’t June steal Muriel’s boyfriend? That’s funny, isn’t it? And she’s been preaching to me about family values! And you!’ she went on, pointing at Elliot with the dishcloth, ‘have listened to her lecture me all day and never said a word in my defence.’
‘Oh dear.’ Mary put her head in her hands. ‘I don’t know where this is going to end. It just shows you that it doesn’t always do to keep family history locked in the closet.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Yeah. What do you mean, Grandma?’ Rob licked the knife.
Belinda knelt beside her mum, and stroked her shoulder. Mary looked up and her face was quite gaunt.
‘June did steal Muriel’s boyfriend. In fact he was Muriel’s fiancé. June seduced him and fell pregnant and so he had to marry her, and not Muriel. Do you see?’
Belinda gasped. ‘He had to marry…? You mean?’
‘Yes.’ Mary nodded. ‘It was your Uncle Les.’
Elliot began to laugh. ‘June! The minx!’ Rob joined in. For the first time since their arrival, there was accord between father and son.
The welcome delegation on the landing had been joined by the three girls and two of the boys. The children were all in their night things but had been brought down especially to say hello to Aunty Muriel, who had been such a favourite with them when they had been small. The gathering on the landing was quite large therefore but voices were kept hushed in deference to the slee
ping baby and Granny McKay.
Gradually, above the muted hum of conversation, cries of an urgent and abandoned nature began to make themselves heard from behind one of the bedroom doors. At first they were dismissed, confused with the blood-curdling shouts from the war game which had been played almost constantly in the study. But these sounds were different; they were human, ecstatic - moaning, sighing, panting, shrieking - they spoke of fierce and ravenous desire, the expenditure of super-human physical exertion, mounting plateaux of pleasure, the ever-nearing conquest of a high peak. Conversation on the landing faltered and died. The grown-ups looked at each other and then, with dawning realisation, at their feet. The girls paled then reddened. The boys, taking their cue more from the reaction of those around them than from any real understanding of the situation, sniggered.
✽✽✽
If Les had known which room his daughter and her boyfriend had been allocated he might have caught on more quickly and acted more swiftly to interrupt the coitus taking place. James, with Robert depending on him so heavily, could only make urgent gestures to Simon that the children should be distracted and removed immediately. Ruth, putting two and two together, was on the point of outrage that such a thing should have been facilitated, much more, so volubly indulged under the same roof as her children. But a sight emerging from a room further down the landing immediately arrested everyone’s attention so entirely that the climax - when it vociferously and abundantly arrived within the chamber of Sandra and Kevin - was almost eclipsed.
Relative Strangers Page 24