Unbecoming

by Jenny Downham

  She had the beginnings of a stitch. It was so hot it looked like water was beaming at her from the horizon. She slowed to a walk and laid a hand over the pain, trying to breathe deep. A long hedge packed with pink flowers lined the fence. Peonies. She’d forgotten about them too. How they’d be in bloom at this time of year. Blowsy, Mum used to call them. Two white butterflies chased each other through the leaves.

  There was the gate ahead of her. The gate that always clicked or squeaked, that her dad could never silence no matter how much oil he put on its hinges. It used to sing in the night if it wasn’t secure on its latch.

  Katie could feel her blood pounding, her breath coming quick and shallow. She was utterly aware of the house and its windows and the front door and the shadows stretching across the lawn. It was so familiar and yet it felt like the one place in the world she shouldn’t be.

  There was Mary! On the bench under the holly tree, gazing up at the house. She was alone, which meant what? Chris was inside? No, there was Chris lying on the grass on the other side of the front garden. He was doing his pattern thing, waving his hands in front of his face and watching the light through his fingers. Katie checked all the windows – they were blank, the front door was shut, the garage was closed, no sign of life. Maybe they’d get away with this after all.

  She lifted the latch and pushed the gate. Chris looked up expectantly as it squeaked and then collapsed back on the lawn.

  ‘Get up!’ she hissed.

  ‘Get lost.’

  She marched over and rammed his leg with her boot. ‘Before anyone comes!’

  He slapped her away. ‘I’m not leaving.’

  ‘You bloody are.’

  ‘I’m waiting for Dad.’

  ‘Do you know how much trouble you’ll be in?’

  Chris looked at his watch. ‘He gets back from work at six, so I’m waiting for that.’

  ‘Are you insane? Have you had some kind of breakdown? You can’t just camp out in Dad’s front garden.’

  ‘I want to see.’

  ‘See what? His girlfriend? The baby?’ She kicked him again. ‘Come on, get up.’

  ‘No!’ He slammed his arms over his face. God, he was infuriating.

  ‘He won’t want to see you, Chris, that’s the point. It’ll be really embarrassing and he’ll call Mum and yell at her for not keeping you under control and you’ll get taken to that counsellor again.’ She knew she was being a cow, but she didn’t care. He’d ruined her date! One thing she’d asked him to do, just one – look after Mary for three measly hours – and he hadn’t even been able to manage that. ‘Please, Chris, come on! They’re probably on holiday anyway. It all looks very quiet. They’ve probably gone somewhere lovely where we’ve never been – the Caribbean or somewhere.’

  She looked down at his too big body sprawled on the grass and the way he just lay there hiding under his arms, like it was perfectly routine to get on a bus and come and see Dad and if he hid his face, he’d just be allowed to get on with it, and he suddenly seemed to have it easy. No responsibility for anything! How great that must be. No exams, no revision, no school. You couldn’t call Woodhaven a proper school when all they did was cookery, tech and art. If Chris concentrated for one whole day, spoke up in class and was friendly to the other kids, he got treated like some kind of superstar and came home clutching a certificate of merit. He probably wouldn’t even be told off about coming here if Mum found out – Katie would! I left you in charge! I thought I could trust you! Well, maybe instead of apologizing, Katie should start screaming and bang her head on the floor like Chris used to before he could talk. What would Mum do then?

  Chris said, ‘I was all right until I rang the bell and then I felt sad.’

  ‘What did you expect? Cosying up to Dad and his new family is hardly a recipe for happiness.’

  ‘I’m not cosying, because he’s not in!’ His voice was muffled from talking under his arm. ‘And it’s my fault.’

  ‘That he’s not in?’

  ‘That he left.’

  ‘Your fault? Where the hell did you get that idea from?’

  ‘Josh told me.’

  ‘And who’s Josh?’

  ‘A boy at school.’

  ‘Well, since I’ve never heard of him and since he’s clearly never met Mum or Dad, I don’t see how he’d know anything about it.’

  Chris rolled away from her as if the subject was closed, but she wasn’t having that. She stepped over him and sat on the grass by his head. ‘It’s not your fault, Chris.’

  ‘You would say that.’

  ‘Because it’s true. Dad left because he found a younger woman. It’s a total cliché and nothing to do with you.’

  ‘She can give him good babies.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  Chris looked at her briefly, then closed his eyes again. ‘Nothing.’

  ‘Is that what Josh said? That you’re not good enough? He sounds a total prick. Next time I come to your school, you point him out and I’ll break his neck.’

  ‘I can fight my own battles,’ Chris said stoically.

  It crossed her mind this might be why he was so often reluctant to go to school. Then it crossed her mind she should probably hug him, but she was still angry and didn’t want to. She leaned over instead and tried to get him to open his eyes by blowing on them, but he rolled away again.

  ‘Well,’ she said, ‘if you ever change your mind and want me to kill Josh, you just let me know …’

  ‘You can go now actually.’

  ‘I’m not leaving without you.’

  ‘And I’m not leaving until I see Dad.’

  ‘Well, you’re not getting the bus on your own again.’

  ‘I wasn’t on my own.’

  Katie wasn’t sure that being with Mary counted as adult supervision. She cast a quick glance at her over on the bench. She was still staring at the house as if it was totally fascinating. ‘I can’t believe you brought her here.’

  ‘You take her to places all the time.’

  ‘I’m supposed to. Mum’s paying me. God, why are you so annoying?’

  ‘I dunno. Why are you so mean?’

  Katie slumped on the lawn next to him, burying her face in the warm grass. It made her feel heavy thinking of Dad walking in and catching them here. The girlfriend would probably be with him, and she’d be all glam and look at them with pity in her eyes, and the baby would be gorgeous and Mary would come bounding over to coo at it and Chris would start asking awkward questions and Dad would phone Mum and there’d definitely be shouting.

  She rolled onto her back and stared at the sky. A tiny silver aeroplane was making its way across the blue, its wings glinting.

  Katie sat up to look at the house. It blushed with warmth on such a sunny day, even with its shut curtains and the ivy gathering up the brickwork. Later, the sun would sink behind the garage roof and the tops of the trees in the back garden would be washed with light. She’d thought she’d never see it again. She’d thought it would be sold and Dad would move, probably abroad, and that’d be the end of it.

  The garden seemed smaller and shabbier. The paint on the swing was peeling off and the seat was lopsided. Had it always been like that? She supposed Dad would get a new one when he eventually moved house. Probably a slide as well. Maybe a climbing frame.

  ‘You know, Chris, I dreamed about the baby one night.’ He didn’t answer, but she thought he might be listening. ‘I was at a railway station with Dad and his girlfriend and they asked me to look after the baby while they went to buy tickets. She was older than in real life and toddled off and I just let her. I remember thinking I didn’t want to fuss about everything like Mum does. I wanted to be cool and impress Dad. So they came back from getting tickets and asked me where the baby was and I pointed to the platform and the girlfriend clapped her hand on her mouth and said, “You let my baby near the trains?” And it was suddenly really obvious from the crowd and the silence that the baby was dead and it w
as all my fault.’

  Chris turned to look at her. ‘Shit!’

  ‘I couldn’t get it out of my head all day.’

  ‘Did Dad get mad at you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I woke up.’ She turned to smile at him. ‘I miss him too, Chris. It’s horrible that he lives here and we don’t. It feels like some terrible joke.’

  Chris sat up. ‘If you think about the word “forever” a lot of times, it does your head in.’

  ‘I don’t want to think about it.’

  ‘I do it all the time. I can’t help it.’

  Katie sighed. ‘We can’t stay here, Chris. I really don’t want Dad to come back and find us, it’ll be horrible. And I really don’t want to leave you on your own. How about we get the bus home and I promise I’ll help you come up with a plan?’

  ‘To get them back together?’ He sounded excited, as if she were capable of miracles.

  ‘No, of course not. A plan to see Dad. Properly see him. How about it?’

  She turned to look at him and found him smiling right at her.

  He held out his hand. ‘Deal.’

  The corner of the garden where Mary sat on the bench was so dark it looked damp. Walking into shade from the sunshine made the skin on Katie’s neck tingle. ‘We’re going now, Mary.’

  ‘I keep hearing noises.’

  ‘What kind of noises?’

  ‘Crying.’

  ‘Well, I can’t hear anything. Let’s get you off this bench and into the sun, shall we?’

  Katie put out her hand to pull Mary up, but she shook her head like an old horse troubled by a fly. ‘I’m not going without saying goodbye.’

  ‘Goodbye to who? There’s no one in.’

  ‘Up there.’ She pointed to Katie’s old bedroom window. ‘See the curtains shivering?’

  ‘I think it’s you that’s shivering, Mary.’

  Chris came over. ‘I just looked through the letterbox and there’s loads of post on the mat.’ He looked up at the window. ‘Is someone in?’

  ‘No,’ Katie said. ‘It’s just shadows.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a burglar. Or maybe Dad’s girlfriend’s holding him hostage.’

  ‘Or maybe it’s Mary’s imagination.’ Katie was beginning to get a headache. Why wasn’t anything easy? ‘Right, let’s get to the bus stop. I think the newsagent’s will still be open, so if you’re lucky, I’ll buy you both a choc ice.’

  But Mary was making a soft noise, like the whimper of an animal. It was horrible. And her eyes were bright and strange.

  ‘She’s been here before,’ Chris said. He nibbled a fingernail as he gazed up at the house. ‘She said it when we arrived.’

  ‘That’s impossible. We moved here when you were tiny and she never came to visit.’

  He shrugged. ‘I’m only telling you what she said.’

  Mary talked nonsense. Mary thought she’d been everywhere. She probably thought she’d been to the moon if you got her on the subject of space travel. But still, it stirred something in Katie, because imagine if it was true? Imagine Mary visiting for lunch on a Sunday or picking her up from school or coming to a birthday party. Jack could have come too. It would’ve been great. Maybe everything would have turned out differently.

  Katie plonked on the bench next to Mary and stroked her arm. Chris sat on the other side and stroked her other arm.

  If Dad walked in now, they’d look insane. Three stooges. Three monkeys. Three sad idiots.

  It was very quiet suddenly.

  A memory of Simona flashed into Katie’s mind. Why now? A vision of her laughing, the gleam of skin at her throat. Last week, was it? It felt like a clip from a film. Yes, they’d been at the café and Simona had brought Mary a samosa and Katie a can of cold lemonade. Mary had asked Simona to join them. ‘Don’t worry about the boss,’ she’d said. ‘I’ll tell her you’re my sister.’

  It was wonderful, the three of them laughing. Simple and lovely.

  OK, this was definitely a sign of sunstroke. Katie pushed the memory away and gave Mary one last rub on the arm. ‘Time’s up. Let’s get out of here.’

  Mary turned to Katie in absolute amazement. ‘I know what this place is. I can place this place – what house this is, what town. I know where the railway station is, the post office. I’ve had such a busy time. It’s been very overcrowded.’

  ‘We need to get the bus.’

  Mary shook her head. ‘I don’t want to be inside anywhere at all, but I don’t want to leave. I feel it everywhere – even in my hands.’

  Katie took a deep breath. This was awful. It was like Mary had gone away and been replaced by someone else. Not a word of that made sense.

  Chris looked at Katie, wide-eyed. ‘She wasn’t like this before.’

  Katie held out a hand and Mary took it. She gently stroked Mary’s fingers with her thumb. The skin was so thin she could see the blood pulsing underneath, the purple knot of veins near Mary’s knuckles, the brown age spots, like gravy splashes, over the back of her hand. ‘I don’t know what to say about any of that, Mary. I’m wondering if you’re feeling ill? Do you think you might need a glass of water or something?’

  Tears welled in Mary’s eyes. ‘I was there,’ she whispered. ‘Just now I was there.’

  Chris stood up and peered down at them both. ‘What’s going on?’

  ‘No idea.’

  The two of them watched Mary cry. Katie felt useless. Chris rocked backwards and forwards on his heels. Heel, toe, heel, toe. He was humming too, which was a bad sign.

  Katie was going to have to call Mum to come and get them. Mum would definitely go mad. She’d feel betrayed by Chris and stressed by Mary’s bizarre new behaviour and furious that Katie had abandoned them again and she’d ask questions about where Katie had been and why she lied and maybe she’d insist on immediately dumping Mary in that stupid care home.

  Mum picked up on the first ring. ‘You found them? Is everyone OK?’

  ‘Mary’s a bit upset. Could you come and get us please?’

  ‘Where are you?’

  ‘Um, sorry, Mum, but … we’re at the old house.’

  ‘What do you mean, the old house?’ The chill in her voice was instant. ‘You mean our old house?’

  ‘Dad’s not here though, it’s OK. The whole place is locked up.’

  ‘I want you to get out of there right now.’

  ‘There’s loads of post on the mat, Mum. I think he’s probably on holiday.’

  ‘You’re not listening. I want you to leave.’

  ‘We can’t. We’re in the garden and Mary won’t move.’

  ‘Then make her.’

  And it landed slap in Katie’s head that Mum wasn’t worried about Dad turning up. If the house was empty and he was clearly away, then why couldn’t they just sit in the garden and wait? No, she was worried about something else.

  ‘Has Mary been here before, Mum?’

  ‘Katie, I’m not going to have a conversation with you. Now, just get her out of there. Bribe her – I don’t care what with – and start walking. I’ll call you when I’m close and see where you are.’

  ‘She’s more upset than I’ve ever seen her. She said she recognizes the house.’

  ‘She says a lot of things. Please, Katie, just do as I say and I’ll be there as soon as I can. I’m going to put the phone down now.’

  Guilty. Guilty. Katie could hear it in her voice. Mum was definitely hiding something.

  Thirty

  Mum got the doctor round. She was kind and sat on the sofa next to Mary and asked her questions. Mary was slow in her responses, she struggled to find words and once lost the thread of conversation completely, at which point she patted the doctor’s hand and told her she was lovely and the doctor said, ‘Well, you’re lovely too,’ and they both laughed.

  The doctor thought Mary might have had a vascular incident, where her brain had temporarily been deprived of blood. She stood in the hallway with Mum and Katie and told them there wasn’t much anyone c
ould do. The disease was progressing.

  All Katie could think of was the forest analogy and how a whole copse had been destroyed in Mary’s head in one afternoon.

  ‘She’ll probably plateau out for a while,’ the doctor said. ‘You might get a good few weeks or months before the next incident.’ She looked sadly at Mum. ‘It’s hard for you. Home-based care is tough on everyone.’

  Mum went and ruined it by saying Mary wasn’t supposed to be living with them, how everyone was passing the buck and no one seemed to care. ‘Sixty nights she’s been here,’ Mum said. She made it sound terrible. She made it sound like she had a calendar where she crossed each night off with a permanent marker.

  Mum asked the doctor if she’d write to mental health services and try and get Mary up the list for a care home and the doctor said, of course, she’d do anything to help.

  ‘She’s wet the bed a couple of times recently,’ Mum said. ‘All the sheets had to be changed and the mattress wiped and aired and turned over. I had to persuade her into the bath and put her night clothes in the wash and make sure they were dry again by bedtime, because she’ll only wear one particular nightie. Once, it was more than just a wee, if you know what I mean. There was a terrible mess.’

  Katie swallowed hard. Why hadn’t Mum told her any of this? Was it even true, or was she trying to make things sound desperate for the doctor’s benefit?

  ‘I can’t understand why dementia is treated so differently from other illnesses,’ Mum said. ‘If she had cancer she’d be whisked into hospital with board and lodging thrown in. But with dementia, we’re all fighting each other over care home places and we’re supposed to see it like a hotel and pretend it’s marvellous, and only fair that we top up the fees ourselves. All my mother’s money, every bit she’s earned over her lifetime, will be eaten up. It’s not her fault she’s sick, is it? Why don’t we ask cancer sufferers to pay for their care?’

  The GP had no answer, but she patted Mum’s arm sympathetically and said she’d write the letter that evening, and Mum could pick it up at the surgery in the morning.

  ‘It was Dad’s house that freaked her out,’ Katie said as Mum closed the door. ‘Mary recognized it. I’m telling you, we just to need to find out why and she’ll feel much better.’