by Vivien Brown
*
Geraldine couldn’t sleep. She knew the shop was in trouble. Bits & Bobs. A silly name for a shop really, but it had always been called that. Since back in the pre-decimal days when it had been Ken’s parents’ place and nothing in it had cost much more than a shilling. A bob. God, that dated her. But it had been a long time. She’d started working there as a teenager looking to earn a couple of pounds on a Saturday, started dating Ken, stayed on when she left school and had eventually married into it. And look at it now. Bits & Bobs indeed! Falling to bits, and only worth a few bob, what with all the cheap stuff coming in from abroad. But that’s what people wanted. A cheap holiday souvenir with Brighton stamped on it. Never mind that it was made in China or Taiwan. Tat, all of it, and hardly any profit to be made.
Not quite at the point of going bust, not just yet, but not going all that well either. She’d looked long and hard at the books today and knew it needed something to drag it up from its knees. Of course, she could sack Kerry and save a few quid that way. Give the girl her cards and a small bonus, and an apology, for what it was worth. Harsh, but it’s a harsh world, with no room for sentiment. Where had sentiment ever got her?
Everyone knew that staff costs were one of the biggest outgoings for any business, but without Kerry where would she be? Behind that counter herself, all day, every day, wearing herself into the ground, with no time off to do anything else. No proper lunch break, having to lock the door every time she needed the loo, no daytime trips to the wholesalers, nothing but work, work, work. And now that Michael was back, he was going to try sorting things out with Ruby, and that meant she might be able to see Lily again. Have her down to stay sometimes, maybe. How could she do that if she was stuck in the shop all the time?
Geraldine turned onto her back and leant out to switch on the bedside light. It was no use. She was never going to get to sleep. Maybe she should get up and make a cup of tea, or try to read or something. When had she last even tried to read a book? There was just never any time. But she just lay there, undecided as always, and gazed up at the ceiling, straight at a crack she hadn’t spotted before. Where had that come from? Who was going to fix it? For that kind of job, she needed cash, or a man who was handy with a packet of filler and a paintbrush, but since Ken had died she’d been pretty short on both scores, damn him!
She didn’t like the thought of selling the family business, not after all these years, but it was starting to look like the only way out. The shop needed more than just an injection of money. It needed energy, ideas, time. All the things that, at sixty-two, she knew she no longer had.
From the next room, she could hear the muffled sounds of Michael and his girlfriend talking. No, not girlfriend. Fiancée. She’d have to try to get used to calling her that. Sounds of them moving about, getting up to who knows what, on those awful slippery peach-coloured sheets. She couldn’t help smiling to herself about the sheets. When the rhythmic banging started, the head of the bed knocking like a hungry woodpecker against the dividing wall, she couldn’t stand it any more. Any of it. She just wanted to block it all out. Life, worry, grief, the thought of that woman latched on to her son like a leech, everything. She clicked at the light switch again and tried to push all the intrusions away, tugging the duvet up high over her head to muffle herself away deep inside its enveloping blackness.
Finally, the noise of her son having sex stopped, as suddenly as it had begun. There was a soft giggle, and then even softer footsteps on the landing, and the flushing of the loo. Then another pair of feet tiptoeing about and a failed attempt at a second flush. Michael’s bedroom door closed, and everything fell silent. But, even as she drifted into a fitful sleep, all she could see behind her eyes was that damned crack, creeping across the ceiling and laughing at her, somewhere in the darkness above her head.
*
Lily was cold. She was in Mummy’s bed, because her own was still wet and smelly. She’d put on her favourite dress, the Disney princess one, even though it was much too small for her now and didn’t do up properly, and some pants, to go to sleep in. But the pants had felt all funny and uncomfortable, and they kept getting stuck up between her bottom cheeks, so she had to keep pulling them back out again. She didn’t think real princesses ever had to do that.
When she’d climbed into the bed and slid her hand under the pillows she’d found a picture. She thought it was a picture of Daddy, but he looked different, with longer hair than Daddy had. She hadn’t seen him for a long time. Mummy didn’t like Daddy very much any more. She said bad things about him sometimes that made her cry, but it was a nice picture, and Lily had gone to sleep holding it. But now she was awake again and it was all crumpled and Mummy might be angry, even though she didn’t like Daddy and probably didn’t even know she’d left the picture under the pillow at all.
The covers had slipped over, and most of them had gone on the floor where she had been kicking at them. She wanted a wee again. She didn’t know if it was morning or still night time. Through the open curtains everything was dark and black, and the light was on and, although she could see the clock, she didn’t know how to understand the numbers on it yet. She knew that she had to get up and go to the toilet now, so she didn’t spoil the pretty pink princess pants or make this bed wet like the other one. Mummy wouldn’t like it if her bed got wet. Mummy’s bed was nice. It smelled nice, like Mummy, and it had big bouncy pillows. With a picture of her daddy under them.
Archie wanted to come with her to the bathroom, so she held on tightly to him and climbed out of the bed. Lily sat on the toilet and did her wee and wiped her bottom the best she could. She knew she was meant to wash her hands afterwards but she couldn’t reach properly without going to find the step.
The step was still in the kitchen. When she went in there the sink was full right up with water and dribbling over the side, so she didn’t need to try turning the taps again. She dipped her hands in the water and rubbed some soap into them, then filled up her cup from the bowl and had a drink. The water tasted warm and a bit funny, like the soap. The sleeves of her princess dress were getting all soggy at the ends and her feet slipped as she stepped back down onto the wet floor.
Lily found a box of cereal in the bottom cupboard and dipped her soapy hand in. She knew there wasn’t any milk left, so she just scooped the cereal into her mouth with her fingers. It was dry but nice and sugary, each little piece in the shape of an O. She did a big yawn and a mouthful of Os almost spilled back out again.
Mummy’s handbag was lying on the table, next to all the letters, where she’d found the toast. Lily wasn’t supposed to go through Mummy’s bag. She had been told off for doing it lots of times, but Mummy’s bag always had interesting things in it. She remembered the eye make-up thing she’d found and used to draw on all her dollies’ faces once. Mummy had got angry about that. She liked looking at the money and touching it and putting the coins in piles. There was a lollipop in there once too, one that the lady in the hairdressers had given to Lily for sitting still, but Mummy had hidden it away because it was nearly dinner time and lollies spoil your dinner. Maybe there might be a lolly in there now?
She picked up the upside-down tomato sauce to see if any drips had run down inside so she could lick them up, but it still looked empty. Lily liked sauce. She’d poured some on her rice pudding once and stirred it in until it all went pink. Mummy had tried to throw it away but she liked it. She liked sauce with everything. Especially chips.
The TV was still on in the living room as she went in there, the bag draped over her small arms by its long handles, the weight causing her to almost drag it along the carpet. She hadn’t wanted to turn the TV off when she’d gone to bed and hear all that nasty quiet again. Quiet was too scary. So she’d left it on. She wondered if there might be any kiddie programmes on now. She wasn’t feeling tired any more, just a bit lonely. Mummy hadn’t come home. She could tell. The mote was on the carpet where she’d left it. Everything was where she’d left it. Nothing had be
en tidied away or cleaned up.
She sat on the sofa and pulled a big cushion onto her lap to keep her knees warm, and tucked Archie up underneath it with his head sticking out of the top, and tipped the handbag upside down beside her so everything fell out.
There were lots of things in it today. Bits of paper with writing on, and some bottom wipes, and a sheet of gold star stickers, which she pulled off, one by one, from their backing paper and stuck to her top. She opened the zip on Mummy’s purse but there were only a few coins in it today. The big shiny silver ones, and some round penny ones, with the queen’s face on. No money notes. And no lollies. But she did find a box of little round white sweeties. Each one was wrapped up in some silver stuff and some had already gone. She pushed and pulled with her fingers and dug her nails in until she finally managed to push one out. It looked like a Smartie, but she’d never seen a white one before. She liked the orange ones best, or the red. Sometimes she got her colours a bit mixed up, but she was getting better at it. And white was easy. White, like her teeth. Like polar bears. Like snow.
She popped one into her mouth and moved it around her tongue. It didn’t taste like a Smartie. It didn’t taste of anything. She sucked at it for a while but she didn’t like it very much, so she spat it out, all soggy and powdery down her chin. She definitely liked the orange ones better, but there weren’t any.
It was a shame there were no lollies. There was a lipstick at the bottom of the bag though, a bit messy without its lid. She ran it over her mouth, feeling it miss a bit as it slid onto her cheeks at either side. She tried to paint her nails with it, but it didn’t look very nice, or feel very nice, so she wiped it all off again, rubbing her hands together and wiping them on her dress, making her knife cut sore again. Maybe she could use the lipstick to make the sweeties red? They might look better, and taste better then, like real Smarties. She tried to force another one out from its shiny stuff but her fingers were too slimy and slippery and she couldn’t do it.
Lily left the contents of Mummy’s bag where they were. There was nothing in there that she wanted to play with, and no lollies to eat, and even the end of the lipstick was broken now where she’d pressed it too hard against her nails. She picked up the mote and tried the buttons that usually made the kiddie programmes come on but there weren’t any. She rearranged Archie again, so he could see, and then tried some different buttons.
There wasn’t anything very good on at all. She’d seen a man in a white coat shouting some very bad words in a kitchen, and an old man lie down on the ground in the woods and shoot another man with a big gun until the blood sprayed right up out of his head, and a naked lady licking her lips and moving her bare bottom up and down in the air, before she gave up and went back to bed.
*
Agnes sat in her armchair in her newly washed dressing gown, with a cup of cocoa going cold beside her. It was way past her usual bedtime, and the central heating had gone off so the flat felt chilly, but she was still waiting for Smudge to come back. He never stayed out this long.
She had called and called, at the back and the front of the building, but nothing. Now it was a bit late to call him, to make too much noise in the hallway or out in the street. She didn’t want to disturb the other residents or have anyone come down to complain. Her old trick of rattling a fork on a tuna tin hadn’t worked either. But then, this was London, and London was heavy with noise. Who would notice, or care, if she made just a little bit more of it?
Maybe Smudge was out of earshot. Even just a few houses away, up a tree or chasing mice in someone’s garden, he probably wouldn’t hear her above the traffic. Or, if he did, he might well prefer to carry on doing whatever it was he was doing. Cats were very much their own masters, not at the beck and call of any human, whether or not that human held the keys to the food supply, otherwise known as the can opener.
She knew she shouldn’t worry so much. He was well able to look after himself after all these years, and it wasn’t as if it was snowing or blowing a gale or anything like that. But she loved him. Dear old Smudge, with his woolly fur and his deep growl of a purr, was all she had left to love, or that’s how it felt most of the time. The thought of losing him was too unimaginable to bear.
*
‘Twice in one day!’ Patsy climbed back into the bed and curled herself against Michael’s warm back, wrapping one leg over his and whispering into his ear. ‘You insatiable devil, you!’
‘Couldn’t resist you, sweetheart. Now let’s get to sleep. I’m shattered.’
‘I’m not surprised.’
‘You don’t think she heard anything, do you?’
‘Your mother? Well, the bed was banging a bit. But I expect she’s asleep. It’s late.’
‘Hope so. It does feel a bit – well, strange – having sex here, with her just behind the wall. Disrespectful, you know.’
‘Michael, you’re not a naughty teenager. You’re a grown man. It’s allowed.’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Michael?’
‘What now? Come on, it’s time to sleep.’
‘did you ever … you know, do it here, in this bed, with Ruby?’
‘Oh, God, Pats. Let’s not do this now, okay? It’s too bloody late, and there’s nothing to say. I don’t want to talk about the past. I’m not with Ruby any more. I’m with you.’
‘I know, I know.’ She snuggled closer and took a tiny nibble at his ear.
‘Ouch!’
‘Sorry. But, did you?’
Michael heaved himself up onto an elbow and turned to look at her in the almost darkness of his old heavily curtained childhood room. ‘Probably. I don’t know. Ruby was … well, different. She was kind of innocent. Young. Straight out of a children’s home, and not used to dealing with things in the real world. With life. And I was with her for the wrong reasons. I didn’t really love her, Pats. Is that what you want to hear? I didn’t love her. But you already know that, don’t you? We didn’t have passionate sex, the kind that rammed the headboard into the wall. We didn’t exactly make love either, not with meaning, the way you and I do. It was just going through the motions. Now please, stop all this nonsense and let’s go to sleep.’
But Michael couldn’t sleep. Half an hour later he was still lying there, staring at the ceiling, his mind whirring with memories he’d rather not have to encounter. It was something about being back here, in this house. It brought things back. All that playing at happy families. He knew now that it had all been one big stupid mistake. Except for Lily, of course, the one good thing to come out of it all. Lily was why he’d stayed for as long as he had, got caught up in those ridiculous wedding plans. It had felt like the next step. What people did. What he should do.
He pushed the covers back, trying not to disturb Patsy, trying to free himself of that awful claustrophobic feeling that was closing in on him again as he remembered all the wedding magazines and bits of satin lying about at the flat, and Ruby’s childish excitement as she tried to choose between pink roses and white, and his mother gabbling about her outfit and her hat, and his own growing certainty that he just couldn’t do it. But he didn’t need to be married to love Lily, did he? And he did love her. So much. Leaving her behind had been hard, and he couldn’t help feeling that, however bad things were, he shouldn’t have. Leaving Ruby may have been best for him, and in the long run maybe even best for Ruby too, but for Lily? He closed his eyes and tried to picture her tiny face. How was she doing without him? Was she missing him too? Ruby wasn’t very experienced in the ways of the world, wasn’t used to managing by herself, and he’d left her to do exactly that. Of all the mistakes he’d made, was that the biggest? No wonder he couldn’t sleep.
But there were two sides to Ruby. He knew that now. Ruby was a lamb. A wide-eyed innocent, reliant for too long on other people, with way too much trust in her. But she could be a predator too, out to catch her prey. Was that too harsh? No, she had come after him. Set her sights on him, watched him from a distance, and from clo
se-up too. And without setting off any warning bells. Just Ruby. Quiet, invisible Ruby. There was a determination there, a sense of purpose, that, when he finally worked it out, had come as a massive shock.
The day she had moved in to the house, his mother’s latest protégé, quiet like she wouldn’t say boo to a goose, he’d had a feeling he’d seen her somewhere before, but he couldn’t remember where. She didn’t say. Not then. Just settled into their home, quietly, like a mouse you hardly notice, until it creeps about at night in search of cheese.
But Ruby wasn’t a mouse. She was a bloody tiger. With claws on her that sank into him, dug deep, refused to let him go. She’d shown him that all right, on the night he’d finally left. He’d tried to explain how he felt, to break it to her gently, but Ruby didn’t do gently. Not any more. Everything had to be a bloody drama. Tears didn’t cover it. Oh, no, it was never just tears with Ruby. It was full-on screaming, pleading, begging, down on her knees and clinging to his jacket so hard she tore the sleeve.
‘But we were meant to be together,’ she’d said. ‘You can’t go, can’t leave us. We love you. We’ve always loved you …’
It was that ‘always’ that had unnerved him. Always, like before he’d even known who she was.
‘But I don’t love you, Rube,’ he’d said, trying to stay calm. ‘I’m sorry, really sorry, but you know that, really you do. We’ve just been making the best of things, and that isn’t enough any more. Not for me. Not since I met Pats …’
‘No, Mike. No. She’s poison, that woman. Not right for you. How could you let her do this? Steal you away from me? From Lily? How could you let her do this to us?’
‘I didn’t let her do anything, Ruby. It’s me. I’m doing this. My decision. I’m sorry. I am, but I’m not going to change my mind. But I’m not leaving Lily. Believe me, I would never leave Lily. I’ll come back and see her, as often as I can. I’ll keep paying the rent on this place, at least until the lease runs out. And I’ll send money. Give me your bank account details and I’ll make a transfer, every payday. Or I’ll send cheques. Whatever. I’ll make sure you’re okay. That Lily’s okay. And when things have calmed down a bit, we’ll talk properly. Decide what to do longer term.’
