How It Was

by Janet Ellis

  ‘The only thing I can’t eat is . . .’ I pointed at the viscous yellow pool. ‘It’s too raw.’

  ‘Oh, God, I’m so sorry. I never even asked! I’m terrible. Do you forgive me?’ He clasped his hands in mock penitence, bowing his head and looking up at me. His hair fell forward over his eyes.

  ‘Stop it, you silly thing,’ I said. I wanted to reach over the table and touch his face. He finished his wine in two more gulps and signalled for more. Graham was leaning against the bar; his cheesecloth shirt had ridden up, exposing his pale stomach as he waved back. I needed the lavatory. Where was it? I stood up quickly, feeling pleased that I didn’t sway as I walked away.

  ‘Wee girl’s room?’ Graham seemed to have a Scottish accent now, but I wasn’t sure who he was supposed to be. He pointed to the far corner. ‘Doon the stairs,’ he said. ‘Mind yer heid.’

  There was no banister, but the stairway was narrow. I spread my arms and patted the walls on either side as I went. I descended with care, planting both feet together on each step before proceeding. It reminded me of Eddie, learning to walk. There was only one cubicle, marked with the signs of the zodiac. The building site theme hadn’t reached this far. ‘Oh well,’ I said aloud. When I sat down it seemed a good idea to bend forward from the waist because my head was very heavy. I righted myself with difficulty. I leaned back and gasped as my spine met cold plastic behind me. Someone had written: ‘There are a lot of cunts in here’ in tiny, neat writing on the back of the door. Adrian was a long way away, up a lot of troublesome stairs. I peered into the little mirror above the basin. In the dark space, I could barely see my face, but I thought I had a film-star glow; my lips looked fuller and my eyes seemed brighter than usual.

  ‘Find everything you need?’ Graham’s own speaking voice was light and colourless. I half smiled, looking past him to where Adrian sat, the second glass of wine already half finished. ‘He’s still here, don’t worry.’ He jerked his head in Adrian’s direction. ‘You are a lucky girl. He doesn’t always stay.’ His face had an unnaturally smooth patina, as though it had been oiled. He was very narrow, and his thin shirt had two raised points on either side of his neck where it had been hung on a wire hanger. The triangles of his bony shoulders and the lifted fabric made me think of a lizard.

  As I walked past Adrian, he brushed one hand lightly against my hip.

  The bill sat on a saucer, weighted down with a screwdriver. He picked it up then made the face of a bashful child. ‘You won’t believe this,’ he said in a stage whisper, ‘but I’ve come out without enough cash.’

  I thought of the large amount he’d given the tea bar waitress. Was this a fib? Or some sort of test? Couldn’t he have asked Graham to put it on tick? ‘Don’t worry, I’ve got some,’ I said. I opened my bag, momentarily worried about how much money I actually had. Despite all the mateyness, Graham had charged us quite a lot. The uneaten food was congealing into plasticity. I hadn’t touched my second glass of wine, but it was now empty.

  Adrian followed my gaze. ‘Didn’t think you’d want it.’ He had a little-boy simper. ‘You’re already quite pink. Sorry about the cash, sweetie. My turn next time.’

  I counted out the money on to the plate, reluctantly giving up a five-pound note. The other couple had left the café and Graham was on the telephone by the bar, dipping in and out of Ted Heath and Alf Garnett as he spoke.

  Adrian reached over the table and caught my wrist. ‘I’m sorry,’ he said, his voice serious and quiet. ‘I know you’ve got to get home. I was just having fun. This has been a bit of a disaster.’

  ‘No, no,’ I said, ‘I had fun, too. It’s just I do have to get back and I’m sorry I didn’t like the omelette. I’m sorry that wine makes me go red.’

  ‘When we’ve finally stopped saying sorry to each other, we can have a proper conversation, can’t we?’ He still held my wrist. ‘Marion, Marion’ – he was leaning very close to me now – ‘you’re gorgeous.’

  I looked round, fearing Graham’s further scrutiny and his comments. This would be a perfect opportunity for his Danny La Rue.

  ‘He’s not here,’ Adrian said, following my gaze. ‘Probably gone out the back to pour vinegar into the wine bottles. You know what,’ he said, ‘I’d like to paint you.’ He held my gaze. ‘I want you,’ he said.

  Cold liquid sluiced through my veins. My fingers tingled. Adrian was outlined in sharp relief against the draped and shrouded chairs and battered tables. His words were as light as air. They settled and shook like a bird on a branch. I swayed with pleasure where I sat. When I stood up I was taller, stronger. I would kiss him soon. I would hold his gaze as I touched him, until the only name in his head and on his lips was mine.

  Chapter 45

  3 October

  I didn’t want Eddie to tell Mum about the car that had nearly hit him. I couldn’t help imagining him all mashed and broken and me not even being allowed to cry about it, because it would have been my fault. I said why don’t we play with the doll’s house together. I moved it into his room ages ago. He said it was a girl’s thing, but I know he likes arranging the rooms and sitting the figures on the little chairs. He didn’t even pretend not to want to, so I sat cross-legged next to him while he made the doll’s house people talk to each other. Sometimes, he just turned round and grinned at me. His two front teeth on the top and bottom are huge next to the baby ones beside them. It makes him look extra happy when he smiles.

  I keep thinking about Bobbie walking across the playground towards me last week. I can still see her swinging hair and the way she looked as if someone had just told her a funny story and she was going to burst out laughing. She said it was groovy that her dad came to my house. I wanted to say it was amazing when he said her name. I wanted to tell her that my mother had made me want to blow up at her because of the way she carried on about him after. Bobbie told me that her dad had a habit of collecting people. She said he likes to make connections. She made it sound as if they’d slot together as easily as Lego bricks.

  It wasn’t like that. The more they’d stared at each other, the more I could see that they shouldn’t ever be alone. They made each other look jagged and awkward. They were the exact opposite of a perfect fit. But all I could do was open and close my mouth like a fish, while Bobbie went on as if it was normal for our parents to fancy each other.

  I wanted to say if he collected anyone, he’d collected me, instead. I’m the one who could stop him getting to my mother. And I will.

  Eddie made a terrible smell. He laughed loudly when I scrambled to my feet waving my hands in front of my face. He said he was King Pong and started jumping from his bed to the floor like a monkey, beating his tiny chest.

  Chapter 46

  I sit with my coffee in a corner of the hospital café. I feel guilty at being away from Michael. I am failing to make these moments count. The coffee is bitter and thin, barely concealed under a layer of temporary froth. Someone has left a magazine. I flick through the pages, trying to find a story I could discuss with Michael. Something simple and uninvolving. It’s as if he’s a tourist I need to entertain but we don’t share a common language. I reach back over the years to that street, to where Adrian and I are walking together, him half drunk with wine and me full of wanting him. Look at me then, as full of purpose as a novitiate nun, with only one idea in my head: to be standing between this man and any other woman. Obscuring his view. Keeping my own daughter out of his sight. I note that I wore selfishness next to my skin and a matching coat of unkindness. I whisper in my own, young ear: Wait. This won’t last. Wait. It will all resolve without you. Don’t you see what will happen? The young woman who was me answers, as I know she will: Yes. But I will not stop. Can’t you feel how alive I am? Do you want me to walk away from all of this now, from the rush and roar of possibilities, the energy and dazzle of desire? Everything will run away from me later, as fast as a ball down a hill, but I can’t deny I set it in motion. And if I held my life in my hands again, knowing the steep
curve of the slope as well as I do, I know I would still let it go and watch it roll.

  Just that one glass of wine was enough for me to have to concentrate hard on even simple functions. When Adrian opened the car door, I had to pause to remember exactly how to get in and where to tuck my feet. I sat holding my bags on my lap, feeling awkwardly folded. Adrian leaned his arm across the back of my seat as he reversed. The gesture had an extraordinary effect: it was as if his arm and my insides were connected, and there was a pulling sensation above my thighs that melted hotly upwards. I wished we could go backwards all the way to my house. I clutched my possessions. He frowned slightly each time he changed gear. He drove fast, hardly glancing at junctions, not pausing before he turned. As we got nearer the house, I felt a sudden panic. ‘Just here,’ I said, two roads before my own. He looked over at me but slowed down without replying.

  ‘Thanks.’ I fumbled for the handle. He leaned across me; his arm reached over my bag, but it was in the way. ‘Sorry,’ I said, pushing everything to the floor.

  He smiled. ‘It’s a bit fiddly, isn’t it?’ He released the catch, and as I bent forward to retrieve my things, he collided with me and for a moment I felt the warmth of him, precise as a brand.

  ‘I could come over tomorrow,’ he said. ‘Can I see you then?’

  When I was little, I had a doll with a long dress and a happy face. When you pulled up its skirt, instead of a pair of legs it had another body and a face with a sad expression. I have a choice, I thought, between my two selves now: under one skirt I was entirely neat, my future mapped and bland, under the other I was becoming a little unravelled. ‘Yes. Yes, you can,’ I said. And I smoothed my skirt over my married life until it was completely concealed from view.

  ‘Tomorrow, then,’ Adrian said. He looked away from me. ‘Oh, hello,’ he said.

  I followed his gaze. Sheila was walking towards us. She was still quite a distance away, but I knew that she’d be taking in the stopped car, the open door, the two of us side by side. Adrian put his hands on the steering wheel and raised his fingers in a small gesture of greeting. Sheila waved back.

  ‘Oh God,’ I said.

  Adrian laughed. ‘Mind if I leave you to it?’ he said. He started the engine.

  I scooped my things from the footwell then got out, holding my bags to my chest. He closed my door. He didn’t mouth any goodbyes or even look back as he drove away. Sheila turned to follow the direction he travelled and waved again. Then she swivelled swiftly round to where I stood and started walking towards me.

  ‘Temple’s!’ she yelled. She was still too far away for conversation. She pointed at my bag. ‘You went by yourself! Although I see you didn’t come home by yourself.’

  I felt the beginnings of a headache behind my eyes.

  ‘No, I bumped into Adrian. Which was lucky, as I’d missed my train. And he was already planning on driving this way.’

  Always tell the truth, my mother used to say, it’s so much easier to remember.

  ‘Was he? That is lucky.’ Sheila plucked at the carrier bag. ‘What did you buy?’

  ‘A dress.’ I held the bag closer, as if Sheila were about to grab it from me.

  ‘Let me see,’ said Sheila, and she snatched it away, just as I had feared she would. She peered into the bag. ‘Lovely colour.’ Sheila looked at me then back at the bag’s contents. ‘I think it’s very brave to wear floral prints with English colouring. Did you show it to Adrian?’

  ‘What? No, no.’ I tried to take the bag from her, but Sheila was pulling the dress half out of it. It looked very flimsy. Had it been that translucent when I tried it on? I decided not to wrestle with Sheila in case it tore. ‘I thought it looked pretty, but I only tried it on very quickly.’

  ‘No need to worry,’ Sheila said with the briskness of a nurse completing an examination. ‘You’ll fill it nicely.’

  ‘I’d better go . . .’ I said, nodding ahead of me.

  ‘Oh yes. Mouths to feed.’ Sheila suddenly jabbed at my face.

  Clasping my bags to me, I couldn’t defend myself and recoiled.

  ‘Steady!’ Sheila said. She sounded cross. ‘You’ve got something white on your cheeks.’ She sniffed at her fingers. ‘What is it? Flour?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I said, trying to free a hand to brush away the evidence. I wouldn’t put it past Sheila to spit on a hankie and scrub me clean.

  Sarah was already sitting at the kitchen table. She looked up briefly when I came in and grunted a greeting but looked up again quickly when she spotted the bag.

  ‘Your reaction just then was pure Lucille Ball,’ I said, shrugging off my coat. I noticed a patch of powder on the top of each sleeve and rubbed them together surreptitiously to disperse it.

  ‘Who?’ Sarah continued to stare at my shopping.

  ‘Lucille Ball. She’s queen of the double-take.’ I had done the best I could with the rubbing, I couldn’t see any white marks any more. ‘Eddie not home yet?’ I tried to sound casual.

  ‘You’ve been to Temple’s. Christ! Couldn’t you have waited? I said to you I wanted to go there and get a proper bra. I said.’ Sarah’s face was childish with annoyance. It was true. ‘I’m still wearing a stupid training bra,’ Sarah had hissed from one side of the airing cupboard door as I folded towels on the other. ‘Please will you buy me another one? A proper one?’

  I had said of course I would but had done nothing about it. It would mean looking at Sarah’s breasts in the confines of a changing room. I’d recently caught sight of her by accident, when I’d gone into the bathroom without knocking. ‘Get out!’ she’d said, sitting up abruptly, sending waves splashing over the side of the tub. She’d reached for a flannel and held it over her chest, but I had seen her nipples, as pink as raspberries, and her breasts set high on her creamy body.

  ‘I will get you a new one. This weekend?’

  ‘What did you get, then?’ Sarah eyed the purchase with suspicion.

  I didn’t want to confess. ‘I’ll show you later, shall I? I’ll put it on after supper.’ I tried to leave but Sarah was on her feet. For the second time that day I tried and failed to prevent someone taking my precious parcel from me.

  ‘What’s this?’ Sarah held the dress aloft. If it had seemed fragile in Sheila’s hands, now it looked shrunken, too, a doll’s garment. Sarah held against herself. ‘A midi dress? Is this for you? Tragic,’ she said. ‘If I wore this, you’d tell me I was going to attract the wrong sort of boy. When are you going to wear it?’ Sarah still sounded pitying.

  ‘Dad’s boss is coming to dinner. I thought it would be nice to—’

  ‘You’re not going out in it, are you?’ Sarah cut me off. ‘I suppose you could wear something over it.’

  ‘Good idea.’ I took the dress away.

  ‘What’s that stuff?’ Sarah wiped her index finger against my neck. ‘You’ve got some powdery stuff on your neck.’ My hands flew instinctively to my throat. How on earth had the flour spread so much?

  ‘I was going to do some baking,’ I said. ‘But then I decided to go into town instead.’

  ‘After you’d weighed the flour?’ Sarah said, still investigating my skin.

  ‘All right, Perry Mason.’ I wanted to move away but Sarah leaned in further.

  ‘Breathe out,’ she said, frowning.

  ‘What?’ I tried not to exhale.

  ‘Breathe at me,’ Sarah commanded, her nose close to

  my mouth, then she said, ‘Alcohol!’ She sounded both triumphant and perturbed. ‘You’ve been drinking.’

  ‘I bumped into a friend. She was shopping, too. Just one glass. It seemed like a good idea.’ Tell the truth, my mother said, it’s easier.

  Sarah looked incredulous, as if I had claimed I’d been dragooned into working a shift as a barmaid. When she sat down at the table again, I thought I saw, unaccountably, the bright flash of tears.

  Eddie arrived home. He shrugged his blazer and bag to the floor, his gaze fixed on bread and jam. I watched him e
at with the same pure pleasure that he took in clearing his plate. The straight lines of piping on his blazer and the stripe of his jumper were at odds with his crumpled socks and tangled tie. ‘What did you need the box for?’ I said.

  ‘Dunno. What’s kwontine?’ Eddie arranged the crusts to form a letter. ‘E for Eddie,’ he said, looking pleased with his creation, then he ate it.

  ‘Kwontine? I don’t know, haven’t heard of it.’

  ‘It’s a place. Paul Thorpe’s there. It means he doesn’t have to be in school. I want to go.’

  ‘Oh, quarantine. That’s when you’re not well, Eddie. You don’t want to go there.’

  ‘A Roman fort,’ Eddie said. ‘That’s why I needed boxes. I made a good one.’

  By this time tomorrow, I’d have seen Adrian again. I wanted to say his name, shape the word in my mouth and hear it aloud. Sarah was reading, the book held close to her face. She hadn’t looked at me since Eddie’s arrival, she’d made a show of getting a textbook from her bag and studying it.

  ‘Let’s go to Temple’s this weekend,’ I offered. Sarah didn’t look up.

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got a shift at Orion’s, then Lizzie’s party. No time.’ She spoke from behind the book.

  I heard the snub. Every other Saturday, Sarah sorted stock or weighed dog biscuits at the grocer’s at the far end of the village. ‘Next weekend, then.’ I waited for a response.

  Sarah shrugged. ‘Okay,’ she said, at last.

  The carrots in the vegetable basket were limp with age. I peeled them with difficulty as they bent away from the knife. I separated a string of pink sausages from each other with scissors and pricked their casings with a fork.

  My headache was worse.

  ‘Sausages!’ Eddie said at suppertime and prodded one. ‘They’re a bit black,’ he said, revealing a charred side.

  ‘Never mind,’ I said.

  ‘What’s that?’ Michael said as I got up to clear the plates. He came and stood beside me, holding my hair to one side. ‘You’ve got flour on your neck,’ he said.