Rise and Fall of a Domestic Diva (18 page)

‘Shit,’ Jerome echoed, leaning forward in his seat, the hand holding the gun resting on the dashboard. ‘Come on, manfuck this,’ he yelled, banging on the steering wheel.

‘You…’ the man yelled back as the car came to life and jerked away from the kerb, the girl filming the bus now on the mobile she was holding, until a hand pulled her back into the car.

The only thing Robert was aware of was being covered
in watersuddenly. It was running down over his hands, and his trousers were plastered along the fronts of his legs.

The bus doors opened in front of him.

The woman in the Nationwide uniform pushed past him and he saw the man with the pit-bull get on halfway up the bus so he wouldn’t have to pay his fare.

Robert got onto the crowded bus and found a space near the bottom of the stairs where he was in everybody’s way. At the next stop the driver let on more wet people and he was shunted up the aisles of the bus by a woman panting, with water steaming off her hair over her face, until he yelled at her, suddenly, ‘What the fuck is your problem?’ A man’s voice, close by said, ‘Heyshe’s only trying to get home like everybody else.’

A couple of people stared at him for a while then he was forgotten. Jerome had pulled a gun on him. Jerome had vandalised his bicycle and known he would have to get the bus home instead. Jerome had been watching him. He saw East Street Market packing up through windows running with rain, and Charlie Chaplin’s birthplace. The bus’s wheels slid on tarmac made greasy with rain as the driver swerved to avoid the rush-hour swell of people slopping into the road. Then they got stuck in traffic and somebody close by smelt so stale and helpless that Robert thought he was going to vomit, and the more he thought about how horrific it would be to vomit on a packed rush-hour bus, the more his insides lurched, until he shoved his way to the doors at the next stop, just as they were closing; got temporarily stuck then squeezed himself out, just about managing to keep his balance on the patch of pavement outside Bagel King, where an alcoholic dressed in a suit was swaying carelessly and waving. Was the man waving at him?

He turned away, breathing heavily, his eyes flickering everywhereon the alert for anything resembling a green Fiesta.

The bus slid away and on the roof of a furniture shop on the other side of the road, he saw a sodden wet child hurling rocks at the bus he’d just got off as it pulled awayit was one of the Skinner twins from his tutor group. Without thinking, he started to walk.

Up the rest of Walworth Road to Camberwell, past King’s, the Maudsley and the Salvation Army building to the top of Denmark Hill, where he watched the rain raining on the vale of SE22 spread out below. It took him fifty minutes, and every car that passed was a green Fiesta carrying Jerome and the child in the pink anorak. Every careven when it slid past and turned out to be a silver Mercedes or a white BT van.

He stood in the rain, trying to work out if he’d knownas soon as the green Fiesta pulled up at the kerbthat it would be Jerome. And if that was the caseif he had known instinctively that Jerome would be inside the carwhy had he gone ahead and walked right up to it, with something strangely close to relief?

He stood at the traffic lights as they changed three times. He was soaked, and the water running down onto his wrists and hands and face had grit in it from the road. Somewhere down there at the bottom of the hill was his house, his marriage, his children.

A car pulled up beside him.

‘It’s Robert,’ Margery yelled suddenly, from the back of the car.

‘What?’ Jessica turned her head round as the lights changed to red.

‘Robertthere!’ Margery paused. ‘He’s soaked.’

The traffic lights changed to green and Jessica made a right-hand turn she wasn’t meant to, pulling up on the kerb beside Robert Hunter, standing motionless in his fluo
rescent yellow cycle jacket, holding a saddlebag, the rain running off him.

Margery wound her window down, panting with the effort. ‘Robert,’ she called out. ‘Robert?’

Robert turned round slowly, looking scared, the water running over his eyes so that he couldn’t open them properly. He had to keep his mouth open in order to breath, his nostrils were so full of water.

He stood on the pavement, staring at them, until Jessica got out of the car.

‘Robert,’ she said loudly above the roar of the rain and traffic.

He carried on staring at her, not recognising her.

In the back of the car, Findlay and Margery had fallen silent, watching Robert through the window, broken up in the rainwater streaking over the glass.

‘Robert,’ Jessica said again. ‘You didn’t have an accident, did you? What happened to your bike?’

This time he looked down at himself then back at her.

She opened the passenger door, took his saddlebag from him andpulling gently on the sleeve of his sodden cycle jacketguided him into the seat.

She shut the door on him and stood holding the saddlebag for a moment before putting it in the boot and getting back into the car herself.

She was soaked now as well, but not as soaked as Robert, who was staring at his hands, shaking uncontrollably in his lap.

‘We went in a boat,’ Findlay said to his dad, suddenly excited at the memory of the hour he’d spent afloat in a dinghy. ‘We went in a boat in the sea.’

‘Did you?’ Margery said, looking worried.

But Findlay didn’t want to talk to Margery, it was his father he wanted to talk to because Margery didn’t know anything about boats or the sea.

‘Can we get a boat?’ he appealed to Robert.

Robert was still staring at his hands shaking uncontrollably in his lap.

Jessica put the car into gear and they drove down the hill towards Prendergast Road.

‘You want me to come in?’ Jessica said when they pulled up outside No. 22.

Margery scanned the road for the Audi, but couldn’t see it. ‘I don’t think Kate’s home yet…’

‘I’ll come in,’ Jessica said.

Margery nodded, relieved.

She let them all into No. 22, running as fast as she could between car and house, Arthur and Findlay squealing behind her.

Robert didn’t move.

So Jessica went round and opened the passenger door and stood in the rain, waiting.

At last, confused, he got slowly out of the car and made his way to the front door, followed by Jessica carrying his saddlebagand Findlay’s rucksack.

Once indoors, he stood with the water running off him onto the hallway’s chequered lino so that he slid and squeaked his way aimlessly to the kitchen.

Jessica followed, dropping his saddlebag next to the BIN in the utility room. She watched him move to the middle of the room where he emptied his pockets onto the kitchen TABLE.
This wasn’t something he usually did, but he did it tonight. Next, he took off his jacket, letting it drop to the floor. Then he dried his face on a tea towel that had burn marks on it from the gas hob. He stood there for a while with it pressed against his face before flinging it on top of the discarded coat and adding his socks and trousers to the pile.

‘Robert, love,’ Margery said, mortified.

Robert looked at her slowly. ‘I thought he was going to shoot me.’

‘Who?’ Jessica asked from the doorway.

‘Jerome,’ he said, suddenly aware of her for the first time.

‘Jerome?’ Jessica repeated.

Robert nodded.

‘Who’s Jerome?’ Margery asked.

Ignoring this, Robert said, ‘He didn’t shoothe just levelled it at me and…’

He let out a solitary sob, but no tears came. Instead, his hands began to shake again and he stared at them, fascinated, as he started to undo the buttons on his shirt.

‘I need a shower.’

‘A shower would be good,’ Jessica agreed. Then, gently, ‘Have you phoned anybody at the school? The police? D’you want me to phone?’

‘I need a shower,’ Robert said again.

‘Robert,’ she insisted, still gentle, ‘you have to tell somebody.’

‘I’m telling you.’ He smiled awkwardly, letting his arms drop to his sides. Staring at a crack on the wall by the FRIDGE, he took a few deep breaths and tried again, but the buttons on his shirt seemed to be getting smaller and smaller until he could barely get hold of them with his fingertips, let alone actually undo them.

‘Here,’ Jessica said, getting frustrated watching him, and starting to undo the buttons as the doorbell rang.

Jessica’s hands fell automatically to her sides as Margery pushed past them both and went to answer the door.

‘Jessica!’ Margery called out, unsure.

Jessica left Robert and went out into the hallway.

It was the Ocado man, with the Hunter’s weekly shop beside him, the rain pounding on the plastic bags.

‘Mrs Hunter?’ he said, genuinely confused. Then his eyes slid past her, behind her.

Jessica turned round.

Robert had followed her into the hallway.

Margery had shuffled to the coat rack and was searching for something to cover Robert with, mumbling to herself.

Robert followed the Ocado man’s eyes and looked down at himself. ‘I was about to shower.’

The Ocado man didn’t look convinced.

Robert wasn’t convinced either. It suddenly struck him that his life was nothing more than a series of explanationsan attempt to make himself more digestible to others, and he was suddenly, profoundly, tired of it.

He didn’the realisedparticularly mind the fact that he was standing semi-naked in his hallway, but he could see from the man’s face that he was waiting for an explanation…reassurance. Well, he was tired of reassuring people.

He didn’t want to reassure this man, who wasfor some inexplicable reasonstanding on his doorstep.

What Robert wantedfelt a sudden uncontrollable urge to dowas stand there on his doorstep in the rain and masturbate over them.

In factif it wasn’t for Margery and Jessica in the hallway behind himhe wasn’t entirely sure he would have been able to stop himself.

What was happening to him?

The other day at school, he’d only just managed to stop
himself urinating in the drinking fountain.

The Ocado man was focusing intently on Robert’s face, terrified of his eyes straying inadvertently downwards.

‘What are you doing here?’ Robert said at last.

‘Delivering your groceries,’ the man replied.

‘Just put them in the hallway,’ Jessica said, coming forwards.

The man hurriedly put the bags inside the front door, by Robert’s feet, got Jessica to sign for themand walked back to the gate, trampling one of the sunflowers.

Robert gave a regal wave, and started to laugh.

He carried on standing there after the van had pulled awayuntil Findlay came to find him.

‘Dad?’

‘It’s still raining.’

Findlay wasn’t that interested in the rain. ‘Look,’ he said suddenly.

‘Where?’

‘Up there.’

Robert looked up at the house opposite and there was a woman standing at the window, holding up a sign. Robert tried to read it, but couldn’t make out what it said because of the rain.

Findlay waved at her, but she didn’t wave back.

‘Why isn’t she waving?’

For some reason Robert suddenly found it funnythe idea of Findlay waving at the woman standing motionless with the signand started to laugh again.

Robert’s inane laughter finally enabled Margery and Jessica to take over. With a brief glance up at the woman in the window of No. 21, Jessica got him indoors and Margery got him into a shower.

Ten minutes after that, Jessica and Arthur left No. 22 Prendergast Road.

‘What happened to Findlay’s dad?’ Arthur asked as they got back in the car.

‘I don’t knowI think he’s sad,’ Jessica said.

‘Um,’ Arthur agreed.

‘Robert? Robert?’ Kate yelled from the foot of the stairs.

She’d just got back from Swim with Baby to find the house in darknessMargery would only turn the lights on in the room she was using. There were four switches on the wall and she jabbed each one in rapid succession until she found the one for the upstairs landingjust as Robert stumbled out of their bedroom with his arm over his face.

‘Shitthat you, Kate?’

‘I could do with some help down here.’

Blinking and yawning, Robertwho had been fast asleep until about twenty seconds agoslipped downstairs only semi-conscious, and heavily dependent on the banister.

‘Jessica just phoned mesaid something about a kid at school shooting at you or something.’ Her eyes scanned his body.

When Robert didn’t respond, she said, ‘Have you phoned the policespoken to the school?’ She broke off, distracted by the sound of Margery opening cupboards in the kitchen. ‘Robert?’ she said, turning back to him.

‘What?’

‘Wellare you okayor…?’

‘I’m fine.’

‘And you’re going to sort this out,’ she prompted him.

‘I’m going to sort this out,’ he repeated automatically.

‘Jessica sounded really worried.’ Kate broke off, now convinced she could hear Margery opening a packet of something. Margery and Findlay were whispering together; she was sure they were whispering, which meant that Margery was giving him something to eat that she shouldn’t be.

‘I’ll sort it out.’ Robert yawned.

‘And now she’s going to have to rearrange the viewing with Ros.’ Kate shrugged, suddenly irritable, andturning her back on himwent into the kitchen.

Margery and Findlay were sitting at the kitchen TABLE together, a box of doughnuts between them. When he saw Kate, he finished licking the jam from his wrist and tried to finish the doughnut as quickly as he could before she tried to take it off him.

‘He said he was hungry,’ Margery said.

‘You could have had some Weetabix,’ Kate said to Findlay, ignoring Margery.

‘She gave them to me,’ he mumbled with difficulty, his cheek distended with doughnut he hadn’t got round to swallowing.

‘Today’s their best-before date,’ Margery added. ‘It’s a waste.’

‘Can I have another one?’ Findlay asked, his mouth still full.

‘No,’ Kate shouted, suddenly picking up the box of doughnuts and throwing them in the BIN. ‘No you bloody well can’t.’

Findlay finished his mouthful awkwardly, looking scared.

‘I wouldn’t of minded one,’ Margery said sullenly. ‘And Robert—’

‘Robert doesn’t like doughnuts.’

‘Robert’s always liked doughnuts,’ Margery insisted.

‘Robert hates doughnuts,’ Kate yelled.

‘But he eats them…’

‘Because you keep on bloody well buying them.’

‘For Christ’s sake, Kate,’ Robert said, appearing in the kitchen doorway. ‘What is this?’

Kate rounded on him, ‘Tell her you don’t like doughnuts.’

‘Fuck the doughnuts,’ he shouted suddenly, walking out of the kitchen and heading for the front door.

It had gone quiet in the house behind him andwithout thinkinghe stepped out into the front garden and looked up, enjoying the sensation of rain on his skin.

A woman coming home from work under a Price Waterhouse Coopers umbrella glanced at him then looked quickly away.

A dog tried to urinate against the trunk of the rowan tree on the pavement outside No. 22, but the owner, after a covert look at Robert, pulled on the lead and carried on walking.

Then Robert heard the muffled sound of a child crying somewhere nearby.

Flo, he thought instinctively, following the sound to where the black Audi was parked, oblivious to the wet pavement beneath his bare feet.

Through the window he saw Flo still strapped in her car seat, hysterical.

‘It’s okay, it’s okay,’ he said, his hands on the glass, trying to calm her down.

He ran back to the house. ‘The car keys,’ he said, breathless.

Kate was carrying the shopping from the hallway to kitchen. ‘Why didn’t you tell him to bring it throughthey’re meant to bring it through. You’re wet,’ she added, looking at him.

‘Just give me the fucking car keys.’

‘Robert—’

‘Flo’s in the car, Kate; you left our daughter outside in the fucking car.’

Findlay appeared suddenly in the kitchen doorway, looking at them both, terrified.

Kate stood staring at Robert, who picked up her handbag from the bottom stair and virtually pulled it apart looking for the car keys.

‘I’m sorry, DadI’m really, really sorry,’ Findlay was saying, standing behind Robert.

Ignoring him, Robert ran back outside with the car keys.

Findlay followed.

‘Dad…’

‘Go back inside,’ Robert said at the gate. ‘You haven’t got any shoes on.’

‘Neither have you.’

The rain was getting heavier again.

Robert opened the back door of the car.

‘I’m sorry, Dad,’ Findlay started again, shouting this time to make himself heard above Flo’s wailing and the torrential rain. ‘I didn’t check.’

‘Finn, it’s not for you to check,’ Robert shouted back. ‘It’s okayjust go inside.’

Findlay didn’t move.

He stood on the pavement and watched Robert pick up Flo.

‘She smells of sick.’

‘Yes, she’s been a bit sickprobably because she was crying so much.’

‘Should we give her a bath?’ Findlay yelled.

‘Let’s just get inside out of the rainand watch out for glass on the pavement.’

Robert locked up the car again and they made a run for it.

As they got to the front door, the rain turned to hail, smashing down on the cars so heavily it triggered off at least two alarms.

‘How is she?’ Margery said as he pushed past her with Flo in his arms.

‘I’ll run the bath,’ Findlay announced, disappearing upstairs.

‘I need a towel,’ Robert said to Margery. When Margery didn’t move, he said, ‘A towel,’ again, loudly this time.

Margery shuffled off down the hallway and came back with the hand towel from the downstairs loo.

Robert wiped the rain from Flo’s face then handed her to Margery while he dried himself. The towel was wet before he even attempted to dry his hair. He threw it on the floor and took Flo from Margery, holding her close. ‘Didn’t you realise Flo wasn’t here indoors?’ Robert said, finally managing to calm his daughter down.

‘I just presumed Kate—’

‘Well, you presumed wrongshe was in the car.’

‘Why’s it my fault?’ Margery said, upset.

She was right. It wasn’t her faultwhy take it out on her? ‘Mum, I’m sorry.’ Robert stared at her through the water still streaming off his hair and over his face, blinking rapidly. ‘Where’s Kate?’ he said at last.

‘Upstairs.’ Making the most of his apology, Margery caught hold suddenly of his arm. ‘You’ve got to do something about thisshe needs to see someone, Robert.’

Robert pulled away, towards the stairs.

‘Robertare you listening to me? Robert—’

‘I heard you,’ he said to Margery before disappearing upstairs with Flo.