Maggsie McNaughton's Second Chance

by Frances Maynard

  I called anyway.

  I turned to go back. So much for Trudie saying Aud wouldn’t have gone far. I’d searched every blasted nearby place. I put my hands on the wall to jump down. Then I heard a noise. Stopped. A faint miaow. A scrabble of claws. It was coming from the tree! I scrambled down the other side. Picked my way over. Audrey was there! I could see her clinging to a branch halfway up. Trust her to find the only tree in our street, practically. Soon as she saw me her miaows got frantic. Her eyes were wide and black. She must have run straight up the trunk. It was smooth and the branches didn’t start till higher up. No foothold – pawhold – for coming down. Miaow, miaow, Audrey kept on. Amazing I hadn’t heard her from the house.

  ‘Hold on, Aud!’ I climbed back over. Ran inside. Ruby was fastening the strap of her cycle helmet. Took one look at me and unfastened it.

  She phoned the fire brigade but they said it wasn’t an emergency. The RSPCA said she’d have to be up there longer before they came out. Cats often came down on their own.

  Ruby took a sharp breath in. ‘That’s it then.’ She got very busy putting on the yellow jacket she wore for cycling. ‘No choice but to wait till tomorrow.’ Began to push her bike through the hall. ‘Audrey’s a born survivor. She’ll be OK for another day.’

  ‘She could fall any minute,’ I shouted. No food or drink. Nowhere she could sleep. I knew I was shouting. (Recognizing it was the first step in anger management. Good when you think of all the stress I was under.)

  Ruby sighed. She’d ask Will. See if he had any ideas. But he was a vegan and a bird-watcher. Cats were his least favourite animal. What could he come up with?

  Blow hanging about for a game of soldiers. Soon as Ruby had cycled off I fished two pilchards out of the tin and put them in a plastic bag. Stuffed it in my jacket pocket.

  Over the wall again. The trunk was too smooth to get a grip anywhere. Plus I couldn’t think straight because of the miaowing.

  Back I went. Had a look inside the shed. Ruby kept her bike, Beyoncé, in there, locked up with two locks, front and back wheel, and the door closed, because of it being London and the bike being her most treasured possession after her boyfriend. Not there now, though, seeing as she’d gone home. Garden shears on a shelf, a pile of plastic pots. A sunlounger leaning against the side. A dented football. Hanging up, a hula hoop and some rope. Rope. A lot of rope, blue. I jerked it off its nail.

  Got to the tree and threw the rope up. It looped itself over a branch on only the second go, because I was Wonder Woman. I pulled hard, leant all my weight on it. Heard creaking. I stopped for a second. But nobody else was coming to Audrey’s rescue. Plus it was me who’d driven her up there in the first place. So I just went for it, in spite of the creaking.

  I clutched the rope and sort of walked up hand over hand. My trainers gripped the sides of the trunk. Done that in the park more than once with one of them rope swings. That hadn’t been straight up to the sky like this one, though. Onwards and upwards I suddenly saw, written out neat in TJ’s notebook. A sharp twig caught on my jeans leg, then my skin, but I didn’t notice until afterwards. Then it hurt.

  I dragged myself up to the first branch. That’s what I was doing in real life, you could say, dragging myself up. Some people would say it. Audrey’s miaowing sounded right in my ear but I couldn’t see her. ‘Aud,’ I hissed. ‘Come and get your jaws round what I’ve got.’

  I got out one of the pilchards, hanging on with my other hand. I didn’t look down. I’d only have frightened myself. Good job I’m small, I told myself. In fact, I can only do this because I’m small. And tough.

  I heard a scrabble of claws. Audrey slid down a few inches, her eyes wide and terrified. She got a grip on a broader branch, next one down. Splayed out her paws to keep her balance. Non-stop miaows when she smelt the pilchard.

  ‘Come a bit closer and you can have it. Only there’s a catch to it – I got to catch you.’

  She leant down towards the pilchard. Purred. I grabbed her. Stuffed her into my denim jacket. Before she’d even realized. Lucky Audrey’s small too. I did up all the buttons so she couldn’t get out. Not easy with a cat wriggling and growling inside your clothes. I tucked the bottom of the jacket into my jeans. All this with one hand. ‘Hold on tight. Going down.’

  Shinning down the tree trunk was easier than coming up, in spite of my gashed leg and an angry cat buzzing around my chest area.

  I hadn’t told the other girls I was going to try and rescue Aud. But when we got back to the kitchen, rope burns on my hands, arms and legs killing me, there they were, all of them. First time I could remember us all being in the same room together. There was a cheer when they saw my jacket squirming. Nice, only it frightened Aud. Soon as I undid the buttons she jumped down and dashed under the table. Hard for a cat to work out what’s good and bad shouting. Don’t suppose they do psychology.

  Big Shirl bustled off to her room. Came back with a first aid kit. She’d seen a few medical emergencies in her line of work. Heart attacks, mostly, when the old boys had got overexcited. (A lot of her clients had had heart trouble, she said. She’d even had a wheelchair ramp and stairlift fitted.)

  Trudie poured Audrey a saucer of water. She’d done milk first but milk wasn’t good for cats, in spite of them liking it. Ruby told me that. I don’t think it was to do with Will wanting Aud to go vegan. I passed over the reserve pilchard and let Trudie give it to her.

  Juicy Lucy made me a cup of tea. Never enough sugar in it. She didn’t think it was healthy. When her back was turned I put in an extra couple of spoonfuls for shock.

  Kasia said she’d make me some toast, with lots of butter, yes? – teasing – only it would be that dark sour bread and I couldn’t stomach it. She came up with some Russian jam, though, cherry, I think it was. We all had some. It was quite good on normal white toast. (I let them use my bread, because I was on a high.)

  Turned into a party. Trouble with celebrating was it made you crave a drink. I know I did, and Big Shirl said she’d love a sweet sherry. Juice really fancied a Snowball because of the cherry and the froth. Didn’t get things quite right, did old Juice.

  The prodigal cat, Trudie said when Audrey finally came out from under the table. When we all looked at her, she said she’d been brought up religious. (Hadn’t kept to it, obviously.) Audrey wolfed down a second pilchard. I had to call a stop after the third one, in case her belly exploded. She wouldn’t stop purring.

  Like I said before, a cat can make a place a home.

  We moved into the lounge so I could sit more comfy. Put my leg up. A couple of guys passed by outside. Black guys, one with a Rasta cap on. Big Shirl leant out, this was without a drink, and whistled, only she wasn’t very good at it.

  They looked up. Walked on, one saying something to the other. Then the one with the cap shouted something. Something I won’t repeat here. Like I say, men are a waste of space. You’d have thought Big Shirl would have known better.

  You could see the tree, the top of it, from the sofa. Amazing Aud had been on a branch for three days without falling off. Never mind it might have been me what forced her up there. Amazing I’d climbed up it. Sheer like that. Ruddy brave when you think about it. I kept thinking about it. I’d saved a collapsed lad, and now a stranded cat.

  I ticked off my calendar. Saw Alastair telling his mates his mum rescued cats from trees.

  So yeah, whatever brave thing needed doing I was your woman. I was so full of myself I reckoned I could even face Louise again. The boasting. The braying voice. Her trying to put me in my place because I was on the up and she wasn’t.

  So I answered her text, What about dinner on me? with OK. Somewhere posh, she replied.

  Maybe she’d have news about Enid. And a fancy meal. Someone I didn’t like paying for it. Another thing I could show off to Nella about, one day. So, yeah, I’d meet Louise.

  Big mistake, it turned out – but then you might have guessed that already.

  29

  Woman�
��s World, 10 October 2018

  How to Get a Sparkling Smile!

  There’d been a bit on the Woman’s World beauty page, about eyes. Making the most of them. I followed the picture and drew in some feathery strokes with my eyebrow pencil. I’d always used mascara. Even when I was sleeping in a car. Nobody wants to look rubbish, do they? I had pale eyelashes. Goes with ginger hair. I’d look proper namby-pamby without mascara.

  Building up from the tinted moisturizer, I bought some lip gloss – a pinky shade Woman’s World said suited most skin colourings. Using it was like shampooing a skunk, mind. It wasn’t my lips that needed improving, it was what was underneath.

  You can look clean and tidy, you can do your make-up nice, but manky teeth are always going to let you down. Soon as you open your mouth people know you haven’t had any education or advantages in life. Before you’ve even said anything.

  TJ’s teeth were nearly as bad. A couple of them gave him gip. He had a spicy, medical smell about him sometimes that came from sucking a clove.

  I teased him about it. Made a brr sound like an electric drill. Waggled my fingers at his mouth till he put his elbow up as a shield. Reckon he was as scared as I was underneath.

  No dentist was going to get near me. Not after a school one had jabbed my gums and tutted: dreadful state. I’d bitten his finger – at least my teeth were good enough for that – which had meant another trip to the headmaster’s office.

  A lot of tough people were afraid of dentists. Didn’t mean I wasn’t hard. Just meant I didn’t like people messing with me. Someone poking and prodding about inside my mouth and me just lying there letting him do it. I mean, come on, who’s going to put up with that?

  Plus there’d be some snotty woman behind a desk. Her eyes widening when I couldn’t fill in the forms. OK, I could read now, slowly. I’d finished that Woman’s World story. I’d even sent letters. But only to Enid, who was thrilled with anything I did. No way could I fill in a form.

  I met TJ at Waterloo and we walked to Trafalgar Square. There were statues all around like trees in a park. Two fountains big enough to swim in if you’d been allowed. In the middle, a man right on top of a great pillar. Never seen a bloke so high. Lions at each corner. Nelson, TJ said his name was. A famous sailor who stuck up for England in a war. A mate of mine – well, not really a mate – used to have a bull terrier called Nelson. White, with a black patch over one eye.

  The square was crowded. Pushing and shoving and tourists taking selfies as per usual. Never any English people at these places but perhaps they’d seen it all before.

  There were two free art galleries next to the square. My heart sank a bit but we only did the one, the one that was just pictures of people. I quite liked that one, only my brain got full after about twenty minutes.

  We had tea from TJ’s flask and some Polish biscuits and my cheese and tomato sandwiches, not ones from work, ones I’d made fresh. Before coming to London I’d have made cheese and pickle, or just cheese, not cheese and tomato.

  It had been my birthday on the Saturday. I told TJ, didn’t know why.

  ‘Birthday?’ He leant towards me. ‘Then I will buy present.’

  He didn’t have to, I mean, I wasn’t hinting or nothing. He probably wouldn’t remember anyway.

  It was still warm and we sat at the top of the steps and looked down at the crowds. I felt lucky – which was a first – that I lived in London. Suddenly realized I wasn’t a tourist. Trafalgar Square wasn’t a holiday thing for me. TJ and I could come here any Sunday. The pigeons were a nuisance with our sandwiches, though. Bobbing about like Granda did before he had his hip replaced. Right next to our feet. Audrey would have had a field day.

  We strolled around. Found a Boots. Went in and had a look at their tooth stuff.

  I didn’t know what half of it was but TJ did. He could read the labels, even the small print chemical words. It was because of him having been an ag-ri-cul-tur-al scientist in Poland.

  ‘Pity you’re not using all them long words.’ Chemical names didn’t come up when you were clearing tables. I bent down to look at the mouthwashes. Wondered why they were all different colours.

  TJ put two tubes of whitening toothpaste into his basket. There was a word in front of whitening I couldn’t work out. ‘Brilliant,’ TJ said it was. Ruby said that a lot. One for my personal spelling dictionary. One I could use with Enid. London is brilliant, I could say. I wrote to her every week now. Hadn’t had a reply for a while. She must be getting loads of treatment, I kept telling myself.

  TJ added a packet of toothpicks. It was three for two and he was going to treat me to the brilliant toothpaste. Was that it then? My present?

  No. He strode off. Came back with a little bottle of perfume, all done up in cellophane. My face went hot. I nearly said, ‘Wow!’ only I stopped myself. ‘Thanks, TJ. Thanks a lot.’

  He smiled down at me. Then he changed the subject back to science. ‘One day I use chemical words again, I hope.’

  ‘Yeah?’ I looked up at him.

  He said when he’d got his English and Maths qual-if-i-cat-ions over here, he was going to train to be a teacher. A science one.

  ‘Blimey!’ First I’d heard of it. I didn’t know no teachers. I mean, I’d been taught by them, and most of them I couldn’t stand, but having one as a colleague, friend, well, you’re having a laugh. Except TJ wouldn’t be a colleague then, would he? He’d be teaching, not clearing tables. ‘You won’t want to know me then,’ I said, joking like, pocketing the toothpaste he’d bought me. And the perfume.

  ‘Of course I will want to know you. You are my English teacher.’ He did his steering bit with my elbow. If anybody else done it, it would have annoyed me. ‘And you are English friend.’ Smiling made his plain face not look so plain. ‘Important English friend.’

  I didn’t use the perfume. Didn’t even unwrap it. I kept it in my underwear drawer. Didn’t want Ruby getting ideas.

  The toothpaste didn’t make TJ’s teeth no whiter, or mine, though I brushed them until my gums bled. Our teeth stood in our way, really. Be a handicap for a teacher. Wouldn’t impress Alastair neither.

  Then TJ came into work, all excited. ‘Have good news.’ Took him ages to do up his apron. ‘I tell at break.’

  That set Primrose off singing, Find your good news in the Lord. She knew loads of hymns. Wanted to set up a church out in Ghana. You could smell chocolate everywhere there, she said, because of the cocoa pods drying in the sun.

  Mid-morning break TJ ran up the stairs to spit out his good news. Neither of us ever got the lift at Scanda. Hearing that robot woman’s voice still gave me the willies. TJ took the stairs to give his lungs a workout. Undo the fag damage. I didn’t run. TJ’s news might be about his wife, old Sofa. Her coming over to pay a visit.

  He lit my rollie. ‘In Polish shop on Saturday . . .’

  A new customer had come in while TJ was stacking shelves. Bought a load of Polish stuff. Only been in England two weeks. A dentist, he’d told TJ. Setting up his own practice.

  I breathed out smoke, frowning. What was exciting about a dentist?

  TJ waved his fag. He was still hyper. This dentist had spotted his sub-standard teeth.

  I wasn’t liking the sound of this. My tongue moved around my mouth, poking the gaps.

  He’d offered to treat TJ for free in return for him doing some decorating in his new surgery. No pain, he told TJ.

  Oh yeah, I thought, but I didn’t say anything.

  ‘So this Sunday I do painting. Then after work on Wednesday he treat me.’

  ‘Bully for you,’ I muttered.

  ‘No, is not bully. Is nice man.’

  ‘We won’t be going out then, Sunday?’ I could feel my voice rising.

  ‘No. I am sorry.’ He took my hand and pressed it between his. Another of his old-fashioned-gentleman sort of gestures. I knew that’s what they were now. Knew they weren’t him making a move on me.

  I took my hand away. I wanted to snatch it
back but I didn’t. I lit another rollie. Blew the smoke upwards and relaxed my shoulders. Looked around the roof garden for things beginning with ‘b’. An old distraction strategy from anger management. It came to mind now. Bench, bird, bread – there was a woman buttering a slice of toast, laughing – butter, bastard, bugger, bloody fool. TJ didn’t notice me looking around. He was still raving on about the dentist and how lucky he was.

  I missed two Sunday outings because of TJ’s teeth. I mean, I didn’t care or anything. I just walked down the park instead. Wrote my letter to Enid. I’d finally got a reply. She’d got my Buckingham Palace postcard. Said her scars were healing nicely. The radiotherapy was tiring but she was feeling better. Looking forward to Romania. I was so relieved I wrote her two letters in one week. Had more time for it because of being stuck in, Sunday.

  I’d written so many letters now I started writing replies to the agony ones in Woman’s World. I wasn’t going to send them. It was just practice for Alastair. I kept them short, obviously. Sometimes I just put: Leave him. Once, I wrote Your life is for liveing too, to a woman whose husband took advantage. I knew it wasn’t right. Crossed out the ‘e’. You have tryed your best. That didn’t look right neither. It was things like that that made me lose patience. But I finished it. Used a couple of words from my personal spelling dictionary. Equal was one, unfair was another. I was using my time productive, same as TJ.

  The Polish dentist filled five of TJ’s back teeth. Scaled and polished the others so, in the end, they did look whiter. Made mine look worse. The ‘brilliant’ toothpaste had been a waste of money. TJ’s money.

  He smiled even more now, because of his new improved teeth. Him and Primrose were like a toothpaste advert, the pair of them. It got on my nerves.

  ‘I have suggestion, Maggsie,’ TJ loomed above me, waiting for me to finish unloading the dishwasher. Any other man would have winked, stuck up an eyebrow: ‘Know what I mean?’ But TJ wasn’t like that. Might have been because he didn’t know the English words, or it might have been because he was Polish.