The WWW Club

by Anita Notaro

  They eventually settled on Vegan Heaven and only tucked in with gusto to quinoa porridge because they had no idea what it was, and besides the alternative was mung bean hotpot with sweet potato soufflé, which they all agreed was not to be trusted.

  Twenty-nine

  The dreaded season of goodwill was upon them and none of them had much of it themselves, although Ellie had bought eleven lime-green satin hot-water-bottle covers in M&S as “oh fuck” pressies. She’d ended up using that phrase quite a lot last year, like when her mother’s next-door neighbor but three gave her an aphid sprayer. She’d no idea what aphids were and when she found out she didn’t have the heart to tell Mrs. Bonnington that she didn’t even own a window box—and anyway, wouldn’t know an aphid from a wasabi-flavored dried pea, her latest addiction from the health food store. Still, she managed to get rid of that to the long-forgotten person who gave her a screwdriver that lit up when you hit a live wire—a bit late she would have thought—but that’s what it said on the box. Still, she had nothing to give in exchange for the passion-fruit peeler or the water wings or the grouting-made-easy manual. Well, problem solved this year.

  She was spending a lot of time with Olga and Rudi, and still feeling as helpless as ever. She arrived early one Sunday evening to find her friend in bed watching TV in the company of a giant bag of nachos and a velvety green dip that looked like snot.

  “Want some?”

  “Ugh, no thanks. God, how can you eat that stuff?”

  “Try that other dip over there.” The thing she pointed to looked like sticky orange marmalade and had the consistency of congealed vindaloo. It was delicious.

  “How’s my baby?” Rudi held out his arms to her and she picked him up and swung him about. He was still in the same dirty pajamas, which meant that he hadn’t seen daylight today and it was too late now to bring him for a jaunt in his buggy. He demolished the yogurt she fed him and cried when it was gone, which normally never happened. He was such a good-humored, placid baby—the type who smiled all day at everyone.

  Olga yelled at him in Russian but the child continued to howl. Ellie quickly made a bottle and sat with him in her arms as he drank.

  “Olga, are you sure he’s OK? He seems a bit clammy.”

  “Yes, yes, don’t fuss. Come and talk to me.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Tired. The tablets make me drowsy.”

  “Well, why don’t you have forty winks and I’ll give the baby a bath in the sink?”

  “No, no. Pour me a glass of that nice-looking wine you brought.” Olga gestured at the bottle.

  “Are you sure you should be drinking with those tablets?” Ellie was kicking herself for having brought it. “It’ll only make—”

  “Please stop fussing, my friend. I will be fine. Now, come and tell me about your plans for Christmas and let us eat and drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die.”

  Ellie laughed and finished feeding Rudi, then laid him down on the rug away from the gas fire. She poured them both a glass of wine and they chatted and Olga seemed to relax for the first time.

  “So, what about Christmas for you?” Ellie knew she’d have nothing planned but realized she’d been waffling on about the girls and Jack and her sister. “You know you’re invited to Orla’s with me? Although to be honest, I’m trying to come up with an alternative.”

  “Yes, thank you. Your family are very kind to include me.”

  “Well, the kids would be charmed with the baby and even if we do all end up in Orla’s, we can stay over if you like. I’ll keep Rudi in my room and that way you could relax and get some sleep. The kids will all bunk in together, I’m told, so you’ll have a room to yourself, plenty of peace and quiet.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “You will come though, won’t you? Wherever we are? Even if it’s just you and me and the baby … and Pam?” Ellie didn’t want them on their own.

  “Can I let you know later? There are a few things still undecided.”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Now, show me the photos of Toni and the girls that you were telling me about. I can see them sticking out of your bag.” The subject was closed.

  Ellie thought about Christmas again as she drove home later. All she knew was that she and Pam were doing something together and it would not involve her family if she could help it. She’d said as much to Pam the other day.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, an excuse hasn’t yet been invented that would get you out of spending Christmas Day with the family,” Pam had said when she’d told her what she was thinking.

  Pam’s mum was off to Canada to her brother, and her eldest sister Ros was heading for Cape Town with her husband and a golfing society. All Ellie knew about her own family was that Orla was having her mum and dad and that meant her as well. Single women never actually got invited to Christmas dinner anywhere, Ellie decided, they were just automatically included with their parents—a sort of charity case. It had been arranged on the second of January—Orla’s husband didn’t like surprises—and Claire was coming home for a day, less if she could manage it. She had a new boyfriend, a heart surgeon, and he already had hers, it seemed. Orla was cooking so it would be a sweet sherry on arrival, prawn cocktail covered in cling film—a hangover from her days at home—and made two days in advance so that the Marie Rose sauce had a nice skin on top, making it only marginally less appealing than it normally would have been. Main course would include Paxo stuffing, lots of lovely, smelly, extra-soggy sprouts and matching peas that managed to be both mushy and bulletlike, although they had probably been soaked for a week. Instant mash was sure to feature—well that was probably a slight exaggeration, to be fair—but definitely it would all be washed down with some warm screw-top Pedrotti. Oh, and Bird’s trifle so that the hundreds and thousands got stuck in your teeth. Ellie had decided, on the third of January to be precise, that she wasn’t having any of it. This happened to her every year—as soon as it was over she vowed never again, but of course she’d done nothing about it and Orla would get into a right snot if she pulled out now. She’d been sure they wouldn’t want Olga and Rudi but that seemingly wasn’t the case, given the detailed sleeping arrangements that Orla had outlined to her, via her mother.

  She had more or less made up her mind that she would offer to cook for Pam and Olga and Rudi and any other strays she could find, and then break the news casually to her mother. She planned to invite them all over for a drink after dinner, knowing full well they wouldn’t come. No one wants to drive on Christmas night, she knew from experience. She’d no idea what Jack and the kids were doing but he’d told her she could have a full week off with pay, which pleased her no end. She imagined their Christmas dinner would be spearheaded by Kate and include succulent roast crown of free-range turkey with organic veggies and lots of bubbly.

  Less than three weeks to go and Toni called an emergency meeting of the Wicked Wasted Wans. It wasn’t even a Monday or a Saturday so no one was expecting it. Although she laughed loudly and tried to jolly them along, Toni was clearly not having it off with G & T.

  “OK, let’s face it, we are not making much progress here.” She pulled out a large chart full of yellow dots, green rectangles and purple squares. Their names were in black marker on the left-hand side and none had a star beside it. Pam was up to scrutinize it immediately.

  “Ellie, according to this you’ve gained two and three-quarter pounds, actually no, it’s really closer to three, in the seven weeks since we started.” Pam looked confused.

  “That’s right, and Pam,” Toni leaned over, “you’re up almost … well, let’s just say your knicker elastic must be tight.” She elbowed her friend jokingly but Pam was in no mood. Ellie got between them, just in case.

  “Maggie, you’ve lost over two pounds, well done, must be all that sexercise.”

  Maggie beamed, her only smile of the night. She’d been peculiarly quiet since they’d arrived. “How about Toni?”

  “Me, I�
��ve lost almost six pounds. Start looking for those dates, girls.” This was proof, if any was needed, that Gordon preferred spending time with his dentist than with her.

  Just as they were digesting this news Maggie had a go at Toni for no reason and Ellie snapped at Pam—she still blamed her for reading that horrible chart—then Toni dropped the wretched thing and burst into tears, another major one for the books. Ellie decided it was her or Pam to sort this one out, and she felt she was marginally less confrontational right now.

  “OK, let’s all just calm down. We need to talk this through. I’m making coffee, yes, real coffee, Toni, no arguments.”

  “I wasn’t going to argue.”

  “Make mine an Irish.” Pam took full advantage of Toni’s weakness.

  “Kahlua for me.” Maggie was in like a shot.

  “Actually, I think I’ll just have ginger and lemon tea with echinacea and black cohosh,” Toni managed in between hiccups.

  “Now, first up, let’s talk.” Ellie returned with a tray and several bottles. “Here, make your own.” She handed round all the bits.

  “Where’s the cream?” Maggie asked and Ellie gave her a look before deciding things were bad enough without anymore aggro. She returned with a carton. “I’m not whipping it.”

  “We’ll need the back of a spoon then,” Pam suggested.

  “You’ll get the back of my hand if you don’t shut up and get on with it.” Ellie was getting miffed. “So, listen up, you lot, because you won’t like me if I’m forced to get mad.” She grinned at them. “As I was saying,” she shifted in her chair, “we’re all a bit overwrought, so let’s get the weight thing sorted first. Toni is right, we’re not taking it seriously, well, seriously enough.” She held out her hand to acknowledge Maggie’s goldfish mouth. “No, let me finish. And, the thing is, we need to.” This new, powerful, in-control Ellie was an alien but they liked it. “Look how much time we three spend gawking at our spare tires and pasty faces and tongues with cuts on them.” That last one was a new one on them but it was Ellie’s latest addiction, she just hadn’t got round to sharing it yet. “There’s still time to do something before Christmas, so I propose we make a clean sweep. Now, how about a detox weekend, a proper one, algae and spirulina—isn’t that what you called it, Toni—and all that rubbish?”

  “‘What the fuck’s spirulina when it isn’t wriggling around in a tank?”

  “No idea,” Ellie said cheerfully. “So, I propose that …” She looked around for inspiration and it came to her suddenly in a flash of genius. “Pam, when are your boys leaving?”

  “In the morning.” It was said in the smallest voice imaginable for big-hearted Pam. “He’s now taking them for nearly a month.” That explained why she’d been so snappy earlier. It suited Ellie’s plans perfectly. “Well, I propose we all move in with Pam for the weekend—starting tomorrow—no, Maggie, don’t say it, you can manage without Dougie woogie for three days.”

  “I was just going to say he’s off to London for a match.” Perhaps that answered the question as to why Maggie wasn’t her usual cheerful self.

  “Excellent. At least, not good for you, Maggie, but it means we can all get together and start a proper regime, really get stuck in, and we’ll all feel much better, I promise.” Nobody looked even remotely convinced except Toni.

  “I was just going to suggest the same thing.” She sniffled and blew her nose. “I have the plan all worked out.”

  “Right then, it was meant to be.” Ellie was in full nannyish mode. “But first, we need to clear the air. We haven’t had a proper—I mean proper for us—chat in weeks, so, I want you all to tell us …” she glanced at the clock, “and make it one sentence for now because it’s almost eleven and we’re getting pissed. Maggie, no more Kahlua.” She slapped her friend on the wrist. “Tell us in one what’s really going on for you at the moment.” She sounded just like Anna Nolan in Ask Anna. “We can discuss it in full over the weekend because, let’s face it, we’re not going to be eating or drinking or anything so we’ll have lots of time to kill.” All heads were down. “It will give us all time to think, OK, so no spiteful comments, ya’all, hear me?” She was positively in preacher mode now.

  They needed no prompting.

  “That cunt Stephen keeps extending the bastarding trip and his fucking mare of a partner is making more and more demands and it’s all a load of tuxedo bollocks this and surfboard wank that and I hate them all.” Pam was first out of the trap.

  Encouraged, Toni joined in. “I think Gordon is seeing someone else.”

  “Besides his wife? Sorry, Ellie, sorry, Toni, continue, please.” Maggie was puce.

  “One of the physios told me he’d had an affair last year with a Canadian lung specialist and she said it followed exactly the same pattern as mine, even down to the tin foil and crème brûlée.” Ellie almost whistled but managed to turn it into a sort of snorty cough. It was unlike Toni to be so openly vulnerable, and practically unheard of for her to be upset over any man. “I’m going to cut his balls out with the garden shears and remove his toenails one by one with pliers.” She blew her nose.

  Thank God, Maggie thought, she’s OK really.

  “Poor you.” Pam immediately forgot her own troubles. “I knew there had to be a reason why you’ve been such a cow these last few days.” Pam had a way of delivering insults in a kindly, motherly fashion.

  “I’m sorry. I know I take it out on you three. It’s just, I know if we lose weight you’ll all be really happy and like me for pushing you and—”

  “OK, this might be another conversation entirely.” Ellie didn’t think anyone was going to accept that miserable excuse, not the way they were all feeling at the moment.

  “What she means is,” Maggie smiled kindly, “you might be … eh, going the wrong way about it entirely.”

  “I know, sometimes I push away the people I care about most.” Toni sniffed.

  “Warmer,” Pam said with a grin. “Listen, lighten up, Toni, we’re your friends, we’re not going anywhere.”

  “Maggie?” Ellie felt it was time to move on.

  After all that, Maggie felt she’d absolutely nothing to worry about. “Well, it isn’t anything really, it’s just that …” She didn’t really know how to put it. “I think Doug might be a bit tight.” She went red again.

  “Tight in his trousers?” Toni had genuinely never heard that expression, she confided in Ellie later.

  “Tight in his wallet, idiot … sorry,” Pam barely whispered. She and Ellie weren’t in the least bit surprised, just amazed that Maggie was only copping on now. They’d known it since the “I’ll pay for myself, I only had coffee and you four all had toast with butter” conversation the first time she’d introduced Doug to them over breakfast in Dirty Nannys. Toni wasn’t as sharp obviously, but hey, she had several diamonds in that Prada bag slung over her Gucci coat so the same thing hadn’t been a problem for her, that was for sure.

  “Ellie?” Pam was getting into this on-the-couch stuff. She almost reached out her hands to them.

  “I don’t know, really. I’ve been fed up on and off for weeks now and I’m not sure why. I’m really worried about Olga and Rudi and I’m sort of jealous of Jack and Kate and their happy families, even though I don’t begrudge them it after all he and the kids have been through. I guess, just seeing them up close and personal like, it makes me realize that I want a relationship. I have a feeling my biological clock is counting down to explosion.”

  No one said anything for a couple of seconds.

  “Christ, what’s happened to us? We used to tell each other everything,” Maggie was smiling—the only one of the four, but then she was on her third “coffee.”

  “You’re right, Maggie, we need some bonding. OK, that’s it. I’m wrecked.” Toni was up. “We start tomorrow. You said the boys leave in the morning, Pam? We’ll meet at fourish, so, in your house. Bring an overnight bag, we’re there till Monday morning, seven a.m.” She smiled at Ellie. “And
thanks for the chat.”

  “Pleasure.” Ellie felt better already.

  “But I’ve to take Doug to the station at—” Maggie was panicking.

  “Say you’re sick. Let him get a fucking taxi. No excuses,” Pam said. She wanted the company.

  “Actually, I’m not sure I can make it by four either.” Ellie felt she just couldn’t ask Jack.

  “Tell him you’ve just got your period. That always shuts them up. He’ll give you Monday off as well, wait and see,” Maggie joined in.

  Come to think of it, Ellie realized she was supposed to finish early on Fridays anyway, she’d just never managed it yet.

  “And over in God’s waiting room, they can all empty their own rotten bedpans. I’ve had it with men.” Nobody reminded Toni that they were mostly women in the home. It seemed silly to bother.

  Thirty

  “Nora, want to help us buy our tree after school?” Jess asked as soon as they’d picked up Sam.

  She did. They’d been talking about the tree for weeks and she couldn’t wait to see their faces when they were decorating it. “I’d love to, really, but I don’t think I can, hon, I’ve got to leave early today.”

  “My mum always made us mince pies while Dad put up the tree,” Sam told her in an “I don’t want you around anyway” voice. Ellie racked her cells to think of a way to cheer up the older girl. From what Kate had told her, Lorna couldn’t cook, wouldn’t cook and was barely around to watch the caterers deliver Christmas dinner, so it was clearly a case of very rose-tinted spectacles today.

  “Well, last time I made mince pies I put onions in them.”

  “Ugh, that’s gross.”

  “I know, I’d never actually tasted them and I thought mince meant real mince, as in moo cow.” That gave them a giggle, anyway.

  “I have an idea, why don’t we make doughnuts, and deep fry them and coat them in sugar? Much nicer.” Her brain was already trying to store up some fat for the torture ahead. Toni had warned them to have only fruit for breakfast and salad for lunch, and to ignore the headaches and lethargy and nausea. She had nibbled an apple on the way to work but it was half rotten inside and she didn’t notice until she tasted it. Served her right for doing a full make-up job and having breakfast while driving and singing along with Rick and Ruth on 2FM all at the same time. Then Jack was buttering hot toast when she arrived and she’d added marmalade and gobbled up two slices before he could shout, “Oi, make your own,” from the utility room.