Everything and Nothing

by Araminta Hall

  ‘I wasn’t fucking thinking, was I? Toby, am I a total dick?’

  ‘Is that what you’ve rung to ask?’

  ‘Yeah. Am I a selfish bastard? I’ve been looking at my life and some of the things I’ve done have astonished me. I don’t recognise myself. I’ve been repellent to Ruth. And I don’t just mean the Sarah thing, I mean I haven’t had any respect for her or listened to her or helped her. I don’t know what she’s doing with me.’

  ‘She loves you and you’re a fucking lucky bastard.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I’ve spent enough time with you two. You love her too.’ Christian heard Toby light a cigarette down the phone. ‘And you’re not a selfish bastard or a total dick. But you do sometimes seem to lack, what’s the word, maybe empathy. I have occasionally wondered if you’re slightly autistic.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Look, don’t take this the wrong way. But Hal reminds me of you so much. Sometimes neither of you get the nuances of life. When we met in the pub just after Sarah had first got in contact with you again I knew you were going to end up seeing her and I also knew that you couldn’t see what was wrong with it.’

  ‘Yeah, but I do now.’

  ‘But I bet you said that to Ruth. I bet you kept on about how nothing happened as if that made it all right.’

  ‘Yeah, I did.’

  ‘And she flipped, right?’

  ‘Yeah. Look, I get it now, I really do.’

  ‘Okay. Well, if you want my advice, you have to keep telling her that. You have to make her believe that you get it this time, you’re not just saying what she wants to hear. She hasn’t kicked you out, right?’

  ‘Only because it’s Hal’s birthday. She wants me gone next week.’

  ‘D’you want me to call her?’

  ‘No, her parents are with her now anyway.’

  ‘Okay. Maybe I’ll be able to get a minute with her tomorrow. Go straight home after work and be your best self. It’s all you can do.’

  ‘Okay. Look, thanks, you’ve always been a really good friend, you . . . ’

  Toby laughed. ‘Enough. You don’t need to butter me up. It’ll be okay. You and Ruth are made for each other, in some sick way.’

  Agatha hadn’t needed to be left alone. Didn’t Ruth think that she’d have factored looking after Hal and Betty into her day’s plan? And now Ruth had gone and spoilt everything. Don’t expect us at any time, she’d said as they’d left, we might take the kids out for pizza or something. Why don’t you go out, don’t worry about us.

  Don’t worry about us? Was the woman mad? Agatha’s whole body, every inch of her skin, crawled with imaginary insects when Hal was out with Ruth. She was so absent-minded Agatha could imagine her losing sight of him in the park or not holding his hand tightly enough when they crossed the road. It made her stomach lurch as though she was in a speeding car. Not to mention the added dangers of how Hal could give her away. Thankfully she hadn’t ever tried him on pizza so she was sure he’d refuse to eat it. But he might refer to her as mummy again or cry for her or just about anything.

  Probably she had been wrong to stay for the party. Agatha allowed herself to think this as she scrubbed the downstairs loo for the second time that day. She had only done it for Hal but now she was wondering if it was a mean thing to do to him, if it would be the one memory she wouldn’t be able to erase, one which might guide him to the truth in years to come.

  Agatha tried to test her theory by remembering her own birthdays. The problem was that she couldn’t always separate things that far back. She remembered stories and memories the same way. There were chaotic childhood scenes with cakes and balloons and mess and cheering and Harry, often Harry, somewhere in the background, but she couldn’t put an age on it. Nights out with friends, but where were they now? Had she really been taken to Monaco by a boyfriend as she’d told Laura that summer of the temp agency? Was the thin silver chain holding a miniature four-leafed clover hanging round her neck really a present from her dead grandmother?

  Agatha felt hot. She stood up and avoided looking at herself in the mirror. She shook her head but the images wouldn’t come. Her mind felt jumbled and disordered. She needed Hal. She went to the kitchen, swallowed two Nurofen Plus and went to lie down in the little box room, putting the pillow over her head in an attempt to drown out the noise.

  Sally called Ruth on the way to the park, which gave her a good excuse to hang back and not talk to her mother.

  ‘Sorry, Ruth,’ Sally said, ‘I know you’re not feeling good. What’s the matter, by the way?’

  No one wanted to hear the answer to that question, so Ruth gave Sally what she needed. ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just a headache I can’t shake.’

  ‘Okay. Listen, I want to put the issue to bed tonight but I’ve had a ridiculous call from Margo Lansford’s lawyer . . . ’

  ‘Her lawyer? Are you joking?’

  ‘I know, priceless, isn’t it? Anyway, he’s saying that she wants copy approval. Apparently the soap business is at a critical stage. I just wanted to check that you didn’t tell her she could see what you’d written before it went to press.’

  ‘Of course not. I can’t believe she got a lawyer to call. Her husband told Christian that the business doesn’t earn a penny and her dad’s loaded, he basically paid for the whole thing.’

  ‘What a surprise.’

  ‘To be honest, Sally, she was a complete fake. She’s one of those women who likes to make you feel bad by being fucking perfect. She gives the impression that she’s got it all, kids, husband, job, dream.’

  ‘What, you don’t think it’s true?’

  ‘No. Christian said her husband was pretty fucked up, he didn’t have many nice things to say about her.’

  ‘That’s not exactly reflected in your piece.’

  Ruth was brought up short by Sally’s tone. ‘Well, no. I didn’t think that’s what you’d want. It’s not very Viva.’

  When Sally spoke again she sounded normal. ‘No, of course not. You’re right. It’s fab, I loved it. I’ll call her stupid lawyer back and tell him to piss off.’

  ‘There’s nothing in there that will annoy her anyway.’ Both Ruth and Sally resisted the urge to take this thought any further forward.

  ‘No, I know, it’s a fuss over nothing.’

  ‘Okay, well, I’ll see you tomorrow I guess, for Hal’s party.’

  ‘Of course. What does he want by the way?’

  ‘God, I don’t know. He loves Thomas the Tank Engine, we’ve got him a Thomas train set.’

  ‘Does he still sit in that plastic house?’ Ruth was always surprised by how much other people remembered. ‘I was thinking of getting him a tea set or something to go in it.’

  ‘He’d love that. See you tomorrow.’

  They had reached the park by the time Ruth hung up. ‘I could do with a cup of coffee,’ said Ruth’s mother. ‘Why don’t you boys go on to the playground and Ruth and I will get some take-aways from the café.’

  ‘Right you are,’ said her dad, pushing the buggy purposefully onwards. ‘Remember the sugar.’

  Ruth felt she should protest, she could certainly see a set-up job when it was right in front of her nose, but something stopped her.

  ‘Was that work?’ asked her mother as they turned towards the café.

  ‘Yes, it’s a bad day to have off. It’s the end of the issue.’

  ‘You didn’t say you had a headache. I thought you’d taken the day off.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’

  ‘Is it going okay then, work?’

  ‘I suppose.’

  Her mother sighed and Ruth knew she had failed to provide her with the correct level of enthusiasm which was always required.

  ‘If you don’t enjoy it, Ruth, why do you do it?’

  ‘I didn’t say I don’t enjoy it. And anyway, we have to pay the bills.’

  ‘There are always choices, you know. I’m sure you could survive on Christian’s salary.’
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  They had reached the café now, but they both seemed reluctant to go inside.

  ‘You’ve always disapproved of my working, haven’t you?’ said Ruth, not knowing why she was doing this. ‘You and Dad probably thought I should have given up like a good wife when I got married.’

  ‘Don’t be absurd, Ruth. I don’t give a rat’s arse whether or not you work. I don’t think there’s anything to be gained by staying at home and being miserable, I’m proud of what you’ve achieved. In fact, I wish I’d had a few more opportunities like that. But I want you to be happy. And you don’t seem happy. You’re a bag of bones, apart from anything else.’

  Ruth had to make a decision in a split second. Ordinarily she would have denied this and stormed off into the café. But today was the day after the night before and she didn’t know how to lie that effectively. She sat down heavily on one of the wooden benches, allowing her mother to sit down next to her.

  ‘I feel a bit lost actually, Mum.’

  ‘Lost?’

  ‘I know you won’t understand. I bet you’ve never felt lost for one second. But some of us normal women find all of this quite hard, you know.’

  Her mother paused for a moment, which in itself was unlike her. ‘Of course I understand. Do you know what the first thing I said to your father was when he came to see me right after I had you?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I said that I thought we’d made a terrible mistake. But Dad just laughed and said, Well, we can’t put her back now, can we? It made me realise that I wasn’t going to be able to talk to him about anything.’

  Ruth looked at her mother. She’d never heard her talk like this. She looked much softer. ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I went home and I got on with it because there wasn’t any other choice. But it didn’t mean that the feelings went away. I used to take you to the park every day out of some stupid belief that babies had to have fresh air and I’d be pushing you up the hill and I’d feel like I was getting smaller and smaller so that in the end I’d fade away and there’d be no one there to push you.’

  Ruth didn’t know how to respond, she felt she was on unfamiliar territory with her mother and she didn’t know how far she could let her in. Surely her mother hadn’t felt the same way she had, surely she couldn’t tell her mother that she was worried her bones were turning to jelly. ‘I didn’t know you ever felt like that.’

  ‘You’re not the first woman to find motherhood hard, Ruth. We all do, you know. But your generation have been fooled into thinking you can have it all, when that’s bollocks. We all have to make choices, you have to make choices.’

  ‘You mean choose between my children and my career?’

  ‘Not that literally. But you and Christian seem to think you can fit it all in, when you can’t. You could easily live on one of your salaries if you gave up certain things. My generation never went on holidays or had new cars or ate expensive food, that’s how we survived.’

  Ruth knew there was a logic to this argument, but she couldn’t quite place it in her head. Now would probably be a good time to tell her mother her doubts about Aggie, maybe even what was going on with Christian, but she didn’t want to give her too much information. Instead she said something silly. ‘Some women have it all.’

  ‘Like who?’

  ‘I don’t know. Bloody Nigella Lawson.’

  Her mother laughed. ‘Oh please, Ruth, are you joking? Don’t tell me you think her life is like her stupid TV series? And even if it was, who do you think is looking after her kids while she’s on the telly making those bloody cupcakes? It’s not real, you know, none of it is.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re saying, Mum.’

  ‘I’m saying that you expect too much. You’ve always been the same and the world we live in certainly doesn’t help. Don’t get so sucked in by it all. Let go a bit. Take a second off and look around you, you might find something that makes you happy. And before you accuse me of being sexist, I’m talking about both you and Christian.’

  Ruth sat back. Her skin felt tight on her face. ‘Are you worried about me, Mum?’

  ‘Not especially. But Dad and I do think you seem very tired and it’s as if you’re not having any fun. Life isn’t just to be got through, you know. It’s not an endurance test.’

  Ruth felt as though she might cry and she didn’t want to. ‘Isn’t it?’

  Her mother sounded urgent now. ‘No, Ruth, it’s not. Don’t be frightened about giving up on something if it isn’t working.’

  ‘Even if that includes my marriage?’ Ruth wished she hadn’t said it as soon as the words left her mouth.

  But her mother sounded surprisingly sanguine. ‘Whatever it is, sweetheart. Just don’t be hasty in the decision. What seems to be the problem at first might easily turn out not to be. It hasn’t always been plain sailing for Dad and me, but we worked through it and I’m glad we did. I’m not saying that’s right for everyone, but I do think there’s a lot of giving up nowadays. Your generation replace everything, even when it’s not broken. You want something and you go out and buy it. It’s impossible for that not to have influenced how you see your relationships. We mended and made do and, I know it sounds silly, but there’s a comfort in that. Newness can sometimes be a bit scary, it certainly doesn’t feel familiar.’

  ‘Familiar sounds like a pair of slippers.’

  ‘I love my slippers.’

  Ruth smiled at her mother. She had an answer for everything, but her mother had made her feel lighter, if that was the right word. ‘Come on, Mum. Let’s get that coffee before we drown in clichés.’

  They didn’t get back until half past six. Half past six! Agatha had looked out of the window so many times she’d stopped seeing what was in the street. Everything out there was only an image of reality and until Hal reappeared it would remain that way. She’d picked up the phone countless times to call Ruth but hadn’t dared in case it made her angry. She couldn’t even be sure if she’d be called if there was an accident. Obviously they’d let her know in the end, but in the rush to get to hospital, a call to Agatha would be very low down on the list. It was one of the many reasons that they had to leave in the morning. She didn’t want to stay low down on the list.

  Agatha had noticed that you get to a point in waiting where you stop believing that the thing you’re waiting for will ever happen. A watched kettle never boils, her mother used to say, but Agatha had always thought that to be a stupid saying because a kettle boiled whether you watched it or not. People, on the other hand, came and went and behaved in entirely unpredictable fashions however closely you watched them or however hard you tried to ignore them.

  She hadn’t managed to sleep but the Nurofen or the pillow or maybe the lying down had worked because slowly her body had cooled down and the noise had quietened and she’d been able to get up. She’d boxed up the cooled biscuits and made the cake and sorted out and put away Betty’s toys. She’d even had a chance to make a final sweep of her room and get Hal’s stuff sorted and hide their bag in the airing cupboard outside the attic bedroom. Even the letter was written. It was perfectly neat. Now all it needed was Hal.

  Agatha had been in the kitchen when she finally heard the key turn in the lock and Betty’s over-excited chattering wonderfully pulling them all through the front door. She went into the hall, unable to contain her desire to see the little boy who held her heart. He was nearly asleep in his buggy, his face dirty.

  ‘Guess what, Aggie, Hal ate a bit of chocolate ice cream,’ said Ruth.

  Agatha kept her smile neutral. ‘Did he? That’s wonderful.’

  ‘He loved it,’ said Betty.

  Agatha tried to read Ruth’s face, but she seemed caught up in the chaos of the situation. ‘Today ice cream, tomorrow vegetables,’ she was saying to her parents and they were laughing because they were stupid. Agatha was filled with hatred for them all.

  ‘Shall I give them a bath? They must be exhausted.’

  ‘Oh, would you,
Aggie. It is his party tomorrow, after all,’ said Ruth.

  Yes, you stupid woman, thought Agatha, so why did you take him out and get him over-excited the day before? She reached down to unstrap Hal and he smiled up at her. She lifted his tired body and it flopped into her, all his smells wafting up her nose. He laid his head on her shoulder and she felt her heart loosen and her breath flow easily for the first time since he’d gone out that afternoon. It was becoming increasingly obvious that they had an understanding, her and Hal, that they had been made for each other.

  Ruth felt light-headed. She should have been feeling terrible, but somehow she felt exhilarated and she couldn’t work out why. Maybe it was Hal’s eating the ice cream, or how happy Betty had been to see her grandparents, or the very unusual conversation she’d had with her mother in the park. Or perhaps it was the message Christian had left for her that morning. She hadn’t listened to it until Betty had needed the loo in the restaurant and she’d checked her phone while she was waiting outside the cubicle and seen the message still flashing at her.

  Ruth listened with a cavalier attitude, expecting some half-hearted apology along the ‘but it wasn’t me’ line which Christian so specialised in. But what he said was reassuringly surprising. She had to listen to it twice. He was sorry that he hadn’t understood what she’d been saying better, maybe they’d got it wrong? Even his voice sounded different, like he’d been muted. Was it conceivable that he’d finally got what life was about? Or at least life as she saw it. Which wasn’t necessarily right, but perhaps more right than his version.

  Ruth had to turn and look into the mirror as she listened to her husband for the second time. She looked grey, but she had two spots of red high up on her cheeks. She ruffled her hair and tried to feel resolute. She had made up her mind about Christian and she almost didn’t want him to worm his way back in. There was, Ruth suspected, probably a strange satisfaction in doing it all yourself. In keeping everything neat and contained and having everyone look at you and wonder how you managed. In the end though Ruth supposed that you would probably have a nervous breakdown as too much self-sacrifice was never good for the soul.