Family of Women (41 page)

‘Why?’ Alan sounded puzzled.

‘He was just like that. It was in the war, when it was all dark. Johnny saw things different from everyone else. He was nice – to me, anyhow. But he killed himself.’

‘How?’

‘Cut his wrists.’

‘God. Why did he do it?’

‘I don’t know.’ She wanted to cry suddenly and had to swallow hard. ‘Everyone said he wasn’t right in the head. But he was nice. He knew a lot about things.’

After a moment, Alan said, ‘I don’t want to be like my father.’

‘I don’t want to be like my mother.’

‘Your mum’s nice!’

‘Yes. But I don’t want to be like her.’

‘I just want to get away.’ Alan stared up at the sky, the great distance of it. ‘Be somewhere else. Be some
one
else.’

Lowering his head, he said, ‘I’m so glad I met you.’ He kissed her and, passionately, she kissed him btif `Mhack.

She hadn’t given any thought to how far it might go that night. Neither of them had. They lay back at the edge of the wheat, flattening a swathe of it like a bed and clinging to each other. They had done very little before except kiss, but now neither of them was completely sober and she felt his hand slip under her blouse.

He hesitated. Neither of them knew what to do. ‘Can I?’ he said.

She nodded, wide-eyed, not knowing exactly what she had said yes to.

She had a moment of panic at the newness of what was happening, his warm fingers on her skin, and then nothing mattered but the sensations of his hands and their lips, which carried them through the unbuttoning and sliding off of jeans and their skin against one another’s until she could feel him between her legs, pushing into her, and though she barely understood what was happening she didn’t want to stop him. She wanted the feelings, and what would happen next. As he lay still on top of her afterwards, her arms and legs round his back, she felt awed, a bit afraid, almost unaware of what had happened. Alan made a small sound of contentment, and she kissed his cheek, stroking his back. Their faces were close together, his breath on her neck.

‘You scared me,’ she whispered. ‘Don’t scare me, Al. On the bike. You were going too fast.’

‘Sorry,’ he murmured. ‘Didn’t mean to. You’re everything . . . The whole world to me . . .’

She could hear that he was sleepy, overcome by the drink. He slid off her and they lay close. She held his slim body as they slept, naked on their bed of wheat.

She had never seen her mom so angry.

‘Get in here.’

Violet opened the door to leave for work as Linda crept up to the house after Alan had dropped her off. Once the door was shut, she got the full force of her mother’s ire.

‘Where the bleeding hell’ve you
been
? Out all night without a word, you selfish little cow – I thought . . .’ Violet raked her hand through her hair, which for once did not look immaculate.

‘You thought I was dead in a ditch,’ Linda mocked sarcastically. She’d felt a bit sorry on the way home, until Mom started on her. Now she just felt fed up.

‘Well, I don’t need to ask who you’ve been with, but God knows what you’ve been up to! I’m glad your sister’s at school so she doesn’t have to see you coming in with the bloody milk. You look as if you’ve slept in a field!’

‘I have slept in a field, if you really want to know.’

‘Oh yes – slept and what else – eh? All I can say is you’re running out of control – as if I haven’t got enough on my plate, with your nan having a turn . . . I’ll have words with you later, young lady – you’re making me late for work. Go on – out of my way . . .’

Violet yanked the front door ope, b `mMn furiously.

‘What’s wrong with Nana?’ Linda asked.

‘I don’t know – she had some sort of blackout. Marigold came over last night – not that you care ’cause you weren’t even here. I’ve got to go over after work.’

Violet flurried out of the door, then turned, eyes narrowed, and as an afterthought hissed, ‘You just better not have been up to anything – that’s all.’

Bessie was smiling.

Violet stood by the range, looking at her mother’s sagging body sprawled wantonly in the chair. She felt a sense of discomfort, disgust even. And shame, because she wanted to feel kinder. But Bessie was not a kind woman. She was strong and in charge, or she was as nothing, Violet saw suddenly. Like a candle with no wick.

Marigold sat silently by the table, watching. She had a pencil in her hand, although there was no paper on the table.

‘She won’t stay in bed.’ Clarence’s stooped frame hovered behind her. Violet’s nose wrinkled at the smell of him. His voice was high and quavering and if you heard it without seeing him it would have been hard to tell if it was that of a man or a woman.

‘I said to her, Bess, you stay in bed today after a turn like that, but she wouldn’t have it. I said I’d make her a cuppa tea and she did let me, and I took it up . . .’

‘What happened?’ Violet interrupted.

Clarence sucked his gums for a moment. ‘Well, I helped her sit up in bed, and . . .’

‘No –
yesterday
.’

‘Oh!’ Clarence stood wavering, supported by his stick. ‘Well, I woke up, see, and there were these noises – the kettle . . . And Bess was – well, much like she is now only there was summat different. I mean, I can’t say really. I tried to wake her and she wouldn’t come round . . .’

‘The doctor’s been, then?’

Clarence nodded hard. ‘Oh ar – well if it wasn’t for Mrs Jenkins calling in – I mean, she got the doctor. Marigold weren’t here, you see . . .’

‘What did he say?’

Clarence stared back at her with his rheumy eyes. Violet was seized with a longing to shake him by the shoulders.

‘Well . . . He daint say much really. ’Cept she’d had a turn, our Bess . . .’

Violet tutted. ‘Well, that wasn’t anything we didn’t know, was it?’

‘She’d come to herself again, more or less, by then. Said her head was hurting—’

Bessie’s eyes opened then, so suddenly that Violet jumped. But she did look dazed for a moment. She leaned forward muzzily in the chair, looking up at Violet.

‘What’re you doing here?’

‘I came to see you. They said you had a turn.’

Bessie stared up at her so blankly that for a moment Violet wondered if she had really lost her mind. She put one hand to her forehead and rubbed it.

‘Oh ar,’ she admitted vaguely. ‘I came over a bit dizzy.’ She began to rally, to take charge. ‘That’s all though. As if my head went a bit numb. No need for a fuss. Marigold – put the kettle on.’

Silently, Marigold obeyed.

‘The doctor just said to rest a bit and see.’

Violet went into the scullery where Marigold was lighting the gas.

‘I wasn’t here,’ Marigold whispered emphatically, as if she’d been accused of a robbery.

‘I know, Clarence said. You all right, Mari?’

Marigold nodded, and Violet saw that she did really look all right. Violet smiled at her, then got the cups down from the shelf.

There seemed nothing much to be done. Mr Bottoms had given her the impression that all this was an emergency, but now she was here, her mother just seemed a bit off colour and there was nothing she could do. She drank her tea with them and set off home again.

On the bus though, like a delayed reaction, emotions set in. She hardly ever went to the Aston house now. Life was too busy and, she realized, she had been avoiding it. But going back there, as soon as she walked into that house, so full of her mother’s overweening presence, she shrank inside into a younger, more timid version of herself, who felt unsure and invisible, fit only to be pushed around.

Habit
, that’s what it was. It had always been like that with Bessie. She had to take up all the room. She could make you feel like nothing, as if you didn’t exist.

I’ve changed
, Violet thought. It came as a revelation, because she had not seen it before. All that had happened, Harry, Carol, everything, had made her stronger. And now there was Rita, her ebullient kindness.
You go off early, Vi, if your mum’s been taken poorly. Course you must.

All those years she’d been almost afraid to breathe without her mom to tell her what was what. But not now. She didn’t need all that now. She inhaled the hot, smelly air in the bus, lost in her own thoughts, which were suddenly full of satisfaction.

I’m me now, she thought, smiling to herself. Really me.

Linda stood at the back door, looking out at the sun-browned grass.

Carol and two little v h aaaaaut atfeel like friends, all in little pastel frocks, were playing with Snowdrop. The two dogs were stretched out fast asleep by the back wall. Linda sat down on the step and stroked their hot, smooth fur. Next door, Mr Bottoms was hammering something,
chink, chink
, in his little lean-to at the bottom of the garden.

Linda poked at the frayed hole in the knee of her jeans. She hardly wore anything else now, when she wasn’t at work, even in this heat. Her hair had grown very long, falling most of the way to her waist, and she wore it loose today.

She smiled wistfully at the sight of the three girls crouched over the fat old rabbit. Being little like Carol seemed such a long time ago. Now she was sixteen it felt as if parts of her life were spinning too fast, out of her control, and for a moment she wanted to run backwards into childhood again. It was as if she was locked into the separate world she and Alan had made, and couldn’t get out.

‘You coming to see Snowy?’ Carol called to her.

‘Nah. Going out in a minute.’

Carol’s face fell. ‘You going out,
again
?’

Linda didn’t answer. She felt guilty. Of course she loved spending time with Carol, but she had to do other things as well. Carol was in with all her little friends, and Mom took her out to those polio things – the society where they all met sometimes and had nice parties. Carol had made some pals there as well.

‘Is Alan coming again?’

‘Yeah. In a minute.’

The three girls stared at her for a moment, then turned away and continued chattering.

Linda sighed. Alan couldn’t come earlier because he’d been to see his mother. Since that one last visit home, she hadn’t been allowed out at all. Alan went about once a month now and she knew how much it affected him. She found herself at once full of tenderness for him, yet also dreading what mood he would be in. That was the trouble with Alan – he was so much pain and pleasure all rolled into one and she couldn’t make out which she felt most.

Another twinge of panic went through her. All week she’d been so worried, trying to put it out of her mind. She couldn’t believe now what had happened that night last week. That she’d actually gone all the way with Alan! Afterwards it had seemed like a dream. She’d barely known what was going on at the time, not to start with, all hazy from the drink. How could she have! She’d lost her virginity at sixteen! Didn’t that make her cheap and dirty? A blush rose up her cheeks thinking about it, and about how it had felt. They’d got carried away, that was all, or Alan had. It had been over so quickly . . .

But what if . . .? What Mom had said – about babies? This was what was really making her panic. Surely there wouldn’t have been time for anything to . . . well, have
happened
? With a feeling of despair she realized she knew nothing about any of it. And there was no one she could ask, was there? Certainly not Mom – God, no! Even if she asked the most innocent-sounding question Mom’d be off, carrying on. Joyce was the only one who had given her any clue.

She’d gone round there a couple of days ago. Little Charlie was six months old now, a real bruiser of a kid who looked just like Danny. Joyce was besotted with him, but she was also tired and bored and a good deal fatter than she had been before she had him. She looked pale and exhausted and was wearing a shapeless pink frock.

‘He’s everything to me,’ she said, pushing her unbrushed hair out of her eyes. ‘But I don’t half wish I was back at Bird’s sometimes. I’m just stuck in all day long – Danny’s hardly ever here.’

Linda thought she looked a mess. She didn’t understand what it was like to be Joyce, she just knew it was the last thing she wanted. As Joyce brewed up some tea, Linda perched on a stool in their tiny kitchen and tried to steer the conversation round so she could ask what she needed to. As it turned out it was easy, because Joyce turned and with desperation in her eyes said, ‘I had a scare last week. Thought I’d caught again.’

‘What d’you mean?’

‘You know – thought I was going to have another one. I mean, it’s too soon – we need to wait a bit.’

‘Oh.’ She didn’t know anything about how you might choose to have or not have a baby. ‘So . . .’ She spoke casually, trying not to sound too interested. ‘How d’you know you’re not?’

Joyce gave a mirthless laugh. ‘If you come on. You know – your monthly. Turned up yesterday. I’ve never been so pleased to see that, I can tell you!’

Linda digested this quietly and with great relief. So all she had to do was wait and see if her monthly visitor turned up and she’d know she was all right. She’d been so afraid she’d have to tell someone, or even go and see the doctor! She calculated when she might be due – not until next week. And she wouldn’t say anything to Alan. She just needed to make sure they didn’t
do anything again. Even so, she felt deeply ashamed. What if anyone found out?

A sound brought her out of her thoughts, the bike revving outside.

‘ ’Bye, Carol – see you later!’

Alan lined the bike up alongside the kerb, his slight figure dressed in jeans and leather jacket. His face looked tense, the jaw clenched.

‘You’d better not be late!’ Violet’s face appeared at an upstairs window as Linda hurried down the path, pulling her cardi on. ‘I want you back by nine o’clock, miss – at the latest!’

‘Oh, Mom!’

‘Nine or nothing,’ Violet said adamantly to her upturned face. ‘I’m not sitting here wondering where you are all bloody evening! All right, Alan? Bring her back on time, won’t you?’