The Afternoon Tea Club

by Jane Gilley

  Everybody’s situation was different, Marjorie realised, although people were basically the same. Lots of things were going on around her at that moment; lots of things and lots of situations she was learning from, even though she was still getting so much of it wrong.

  But she’d understood something about herself today.

  It hurt where Dora had just prodded her and it felt like the nudge she needed to instil in herself that, from today, she really was going to learn to keep her thoughts to herself. She’d make no more comments that could be misconstrued; no more giving people ‘friendly advice, for their own good’. Clearly they saw their own situations differently to Marjorie and she had to learn to leave people to their own devices and let them make their own decisions about what was right or wrong for them. It didn’t matter how things turned out for the people she’d been trying to help. Their actions were the only ones that counted to them. They’d always only do what they saw fit; rightly or wrongly. That’s how life was. She understood that now.

  Marjorie sniffed, miserably, and then got some toilet paper and blew her nose.

  ***

  Stacy had told the others she’d go and see if there was anything she could do to help Marjorie. So she stood outside the disabled toilet, waiting for Marjorie’s sobs to subside as she knew they would eventually.

  She leant on the wall with her arms folded.

  She could see that people were so complicated. They had lots of problems. Dora had already admitted that perhaps she’d treated the older woman a little harshly but then she’d already had her own mother going on about the Botox injections not working out for her. Eva had said she couldn’t believe two older women were having a bust-up in the community centre for no particularly good reason at all and said she’d needed to have a ‘stern’ conversation with them before they went home today.

  Stacy’d had enough of her own rows of late too. Perhaps she’d been very naïve when she invited both her parents and Peter and Marvin to lunch that day. She’d hoped it might bring them all together because she knew how discriminatory her father was. She cringed at the thought of how it all went horribly and embarrassingly wrong on that score.

  Her father had seen Marvin put his arm around Peter and he’d gone mad. He’d yelled at everyone – yes, all of them – saying that no one knew how to conduct their lives any more and it was high time they had someone back in power like Enoch Powell (whoever he was) who stood no nonsense. Then he said he was going to wait in the car for his wife and that she’d better not be long or he’d leave without her.

  Luckily, her mother had ignored him and told everyone she was staying and that they were going to enjoy their meal and catch up with everybody’s news.

  ‘Don’t worry about it, Mum-to-be,’ Marvin had said. ‘We get this sort of thing a lot. Shouldn’t be any discrimination these days but that’s how life still is sometimes. We’re going to get married either way and we’ll invite you all to the wedding. Whether Dad-to-be comes or not is up to him but you’ll all be welcome!’

  Stacy loved Marvin. He made everything seem better. And at least she’d reconnected with her brother again. She’d been invited to their place, the following weekend, and she was really looking forward to that. But she’d been disgusted at her father. Luckily he’d waited for her mum but, apparently, they’d had strong words afterwards.

  Stacy could no longer hear Marjorie’s cries but she could hear water running and Marjorie talking to herself now. She wondered whether to knock or just wait until she came out. Knowing everybody was waiting for some response in the art room, she had just lifted her hand to knock when the door suddenly opened and there was Marjorie with a rather red face.

  ‘Um. Hi, Marjorie. You okay now?’

  Stacy had made Marjorie jump, standing in the doorway like that.

  ‘Eva wants to talk to you. Well, not just you. But she wanted me to come and get you anyway,’ Stacy began.

  ‘Yes, well I’m not coming back into class, love. I just want to go home now, thank you.’

  ‘That won’t be happening for the moment,’ said Eva, striding up to Marjorie. ‘Dora’s confessed to her role in all this and so I’d like you to come back in so we can just have a quick chat.’

  Reluctantly Marjorie walked between Eva and Stacy back to the room where Michael was chatting to Raymond and Dora was sat looking very sorry for herself. Dora was the first one to speak, however.

  ‘Okay I’ll say sorry to prodding you like that but I got mad at what you said.’

  ‘Thank you, Dora,’ said Eva. ‘Well, everyone. This situation got a little out of hand today and this is why I say to leave all your worries at the door when you come in here. Life is shitty enough without bringing it into class with you. The whole idea, here, is to give you some time out from all that crap. Not indulge in it further. So have you learned anything today, Marjorie, apart from how to draw with a blindfold on?’

  Marjorie managed a little smile. ‘I’ve given myself a strong talking-to, so you don’t have to.’

  ‘Well, that’s good. Now is there anything else you want to say, Marjorie?’

  ‘I’d like to explain myself to Dora. Well, to you all in fact. I think sometimes we forget that other people have problems too, different problems, even though we’re all basically the same. We’re all looking for love and acceptance in life. Some of us have never had that, you see.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Eva. ‘Right well, I can see this is going to get a bit deep and the class has all but ended, now. So why don’t you have a little chat amongst yourselves and see if you can all come out of it a lot friendlier than you have been today? You can use the canteen if you wish. But I do need to get cleaned up in here.’

  ‘Very tactful,’ said Raymond smiling. ‘See you next time then, Eva. Bye, Michael. You coming next time? I could do with you evening the numbers out.’

  ‘Sure, pops. See you next time,’ said Michael.

  Chapter 19

  ‘I’m not being funny, Raymond, but why are you staying?’ said Dora, irritably.

  He shrugged. ‘You know, I believe you reach a certain age in life carrying all sorts of baggage with you. And that baggage can cause big problems for everyone around you, if certain issues haven’t been resolved. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that’s what happened here today?’

  Marjorie sighed. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘So I’m going to stay because I think that in order for us all to move on and stay sane and friendly with each other and to, hopefully, continue enjoying what people like Eileen have gone out of their way to put on for us, we need to patch up the gaping holes. We all have our stories. I also have mine. But the other reason I want to stay is to make sure no one gets hurt or starts falling out again. Okay?’

  ‘Fine by me,’ said Stacy, sitting down. ‘So who’s going to start?’

  ‘I’ll start,’ said Marjorie. ‘Because I’ve started most of what’s gone on since this thing began. But first I’d like to buy you all a drink from the drinks machine, if you’ll let me?’

  ‘Sure, well I’d like to try a hot chocolate if they’ve got that,’ said Raymond.

  Marjorie scrabbled in her purse to find enough fifty-pence pieces or equivalent for their drinks and the machine pinged for a while until they all sat with their drinks in front of them.

  ‘So, hit us with it,’ Dora said.

  Marjorie had already realised that Dora could be brash but she wasn’t going to let that rile her. Maybe somewhere, deeper down, there was a heart in the woman. But then maybe she’d also got her own hard story to tell.

  ‘Well, I didn’t know it at the time, and possibly something happened, later, to make him like it because he certainly wasn’t like it when we first met, but my husband Oliver was a wife-beater. I lived with domestic violence throughout my life with him. But I did nothing about it at the time because I couldn’t. I was afraid of him. I was afraid that if I did something he’d only come back at me harder and do worse damage than he
was already doing. I lost our first child because of his abuse and I very nearly, um, I nearly died myself that day, too. It was a horrible time in my life but he had no remorse and he even harassed me after I gave birth to our only child, Gracie. He never hurt Gracie, fortunately. I’d like to think I would have found the strength to leave if he had. But she witnessed his continuous anger towards me, which was not pleasant. I suppose I’m very fortunate that she grew up to be well adjusted. Her first marriage didn’t work out but she has met a wonderful young man who appears to adore her and is also, thankfully, mindful of my very close relationship with her. So I couldn’t wish for a better outcome for my daughter. However …’

  Marjorie paused to take a sip of her coffee. Stacy couldn’t meet her gaze. Dora looked stunned and Raymond was gently shaking his head.

  ‘My outbursts have been two-fold. On the one hand, Oliver died about five years ago, so I don’t have to live with all that any more but his actions turned me into a very bitter woman. I wasn’t allowed to have my say about anything when he was alive and so I relish the freedom I have now to speak out about any injustices I see, as well as thinking it’s okay to say what I feel about other things – like with you, today, Dora. I’m sorry I upset you but I was just trying to help. However, I can now see you didn’t want my opinion. On the other hand, my daughter tells me she is about to move out of the flat we’ve shared for four years and I will be on my own again. That thought terrifies me. I find it difficult living by myself and I have hardly any friends. This is why I wanted the Afternoon Tea Club to work for me. I feel it’s the only chance I’ve got left now to make friends. But all I’ve done is alienate people.’

  ‘Oh apology accepted. I’m sorry too. I know you meant well, Marjorie. But I’ve got my own story, too,’ said Dora.

  ‘And do you want to tell us that story, Dora?’ Raymond asked quietly.

  ‘Um, well, not right at this moment – no. So tell your story or Stacy can tell us hers.’

  ‘Stacy?’

  Stacy looked solemn, thoughtful. ‘Okay. Um, well, I was brought up on a farm with my brother Peter and my parents were very strict about what we could or couldn’t do. We had to work on the farm all our lives from when we were little. Evenings and weekends and the chores got heavier as we grew up. Friends weren’t allowed round and we weren’t allowed to go to their houses so we never really learned to mix well. My dad didn’t hit us or anything but he made us afraid of him. If we were disobedient we were sent to bed with no food. Old-fashioned stuff like that. And Mum and Dad never kissed us or cuddled us. So I’ve never had much love in my life. I used to have lots of cats, probably because I was craving some kind of comfort; but I had an accident recently, slipped off the kitchen worktop trying to get a cat down from above the units and had to go home to recuperate. Well, my dad got rid of my cats and sorted my flat out for me because it was filthy with cat poo everywhere because I just couldn’t, um, I couldn’t cope any more. But I’ve recently reconnected with my brother Peter and he’s got a lovely boyfriend Marvin who he’s going to marry and I put on this lunch for everyone so they could all meet up and hopefully be friendly because, well, my dad’s homophobic and a racist. But my dad went mad and said I was useless. I know I can’t do anything right but I just want to be loved really. I don’t have any friends. And I don’t have a life, apart from my job in the library. And, anyway, that’s my solace.’

  One silent tear glittered down the young woman’s face as she’d told her story. Stacy’s story broke Marjorie’s heart. It was clear how isolated and lonely she’d been all her life. And yet when Stacy had tried to reach out to her, in desperation, Marjorie had been nastily dismissive. That thought pierced Marjorie’s conscience and she immediately put her arms around Stacy and held her.

  ‘There, there. I’m so sorry for all your troubles, sweetheart. I’ll be your friend, if you’ll have me?’

  ‘We’ll all be your friends, Stacy. Won’t we, Dora?’ said Raymond.

  ‘Oh yes, of course. I think that goes without saying,’ Dora said with a sniff, looking uncharacteristically teary.

  ‘Well, th-thank you everyone,’ Stacy said wiping her face with her sleeve. ‘That makes me feel a b-bit better now.’

  ***

  Dora sighed. My God! The trials some people have to endure, she thought. But now Dora felt ready to tell her own story.

  ‘Okay, well I’ve had a blessed life to a point,’ she began. ‘My family created their own little empire of hotels near London. Hen & Stag Hotels—’

  ‘No way!’ exclaimed Raymond, his eyes suddenly wide. ‘One of my friends had a stag do at one of those, once. Crazy places. Crazy behaviour. Had a ball there, he did. Said it was better than Benidorm!’

  ‘Hmm. Well, they wouldn’t have been my cup of tea but it all worked out brilliantly as my family’s business. They were sold off some years ago, after my father died, and then my mother and I ran the Arts & Crafts Hotel we’ve got in the Cotswolds for a while. It’s never been my preferred line of work, although it’s where I’ve ended up. But we’re just on the verge of selling that now and moving down here to be with my Aunt Philippa who lives up the road from here, actually. It’s where we’re from originally. So due to my parents’ successes in business, I’ve always lived a carefree existence. But I’ve never really known what I wanted out of life. I will admit that this is partly because I never wanted for anything. I’ve never married. I’ve never really been a home bird. In fact, I ran around Europe and America for quite a few years in my youth. My mother called me a wandering minstrel. I suppose, looking back, I had a peachy lifestyle, despite everything. Yet my mother is one of those no-nonsense types of women, with an answer for everything, so she’s never really understood people who trip and falter at the difficulties of life. So, anyway, I did and tried everything – kicking back against my parents wanting me to join their business, because it wasn’t what I wanted at the time. But when my father died I came back to roost, proper. My brother Stuart runs a small hotel in Devon, so I go see him and his family, sometimes, when I feel the walls are closing in on me. Through it all, though, I’ve never actually discovered where I belong in life.’

  Raymond nodded. ‘So you had a blessed life to a point. But is that all?’

  ***

  Tears watered Dora’s eyes. Marjorie raised her eyebrows at that. What? The foxy Dora had a soft centre somewhere?

  ‘Please don’t be dismissive of me, Raymond. I know only too well how people can be suspicious of those they deem to have everything in life. No one, truly, has everything. I was bullied at school because the kids either wanted some of what I had or they wanted to punish me because of what my parents had when they, themselves – they told me as they pushed my face into the playground – had a lot less. What my parents had accumulated didn’t, actually, make me feel blessed. It was a burden to me my whole life. On top of that my dismissive mother thought I should be grateful for what I had and contribute, when all I wanted to do was run away from it. So, because I’ve never put down roots properly anywhere, I – too – know what loneliness is. I have no real friends either, to speak of, except my best friend Jodie, who’s stood by me through thick and thin.’

  ‘I don’t think he meant it like that, though, did you, Raymond?’ Marjorie said quietly.

  ‘I’m sorry, Dora. I didn’t. I just got the feeling there was, um, something else you needed to say.’

  Dora nodded. ‘Well, yes, there is. But every story needs background info, Raymond. We’re all a product of the lives we lived before this point, aren’t we? In other words, you won’t know about me, until you know about me. So, um, what I’ve never told anybody – what I regret never telling my father before he passed away and what I certainly regret having never told my mother – is that, during those years I met the only love of my life. Oh, I had some fun and met plenty of men, I can tell you. But there was this one guy. And I, um, I kept his baby—’

  ‘His baby? Oh God, Dora. It sounds like there were o
thers?’ said Stacy.

  ‘Well, I’m glad you said that, Stacy, and not me!’ said Marjorie carefully.

  ‘I was thinking it, too, ladies!’ Raymond admitted.

  ‘Well, okay, I will admit I made some mistakes in my life. But who hasn’t? That’s the next part of my story because becoming rather promiscuous was part of my kicking back at everything my parents stood for – not that I’m totally blaming my folks. They deserved what they’d worked very hard to achieve. It’s just that I was kicking back at the product of their success, if you see what I mean? And I was certainly kicking back at everything that had undermined me: my mother, the kids at school – oh, you know – everything. Well, Dad made us our fortune, so I didn’t really need to work. But Mum made me work in our hotels, starting at the bottom, cleaning toilets and everything. To keep things real, she said.

  ‘Eventually I went to secretarial college and then got a job with a leery boss who couldn’t keep his hands off me! I had a two-timing boyfriend and, well, I’d just about had enough at that point. I wanted to explore; see the world. I got pregnant virtually straight away. And I’m sorry to say I had an abortion because I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. And I certainly didn’t want to be a single mum, when I didn’t know who I was or where my place was in life. But with Andy? Well, I met him in a bar in Greece and we really hit it off. And, long story short, when I fell pregnant I kept her. Looking back, I did it because I wanted something from him – some part of him. And I know that sounds selfish. But I wanted to keep him close because he sort of got me when no one else had. Plus, he was a good sort, or so I thought.