by Annie Murray
She went off, a clipboard in her hand, but her last remarks were cheering.
Joanne sat down. To her surprise, Dave talked this time, at least about himself. That was all right. She knew they couldn’t start on all the big things – not in here.
‘They’re sending me home tomorrow – to Mom’s, I mean.’
‘That’s good,’ Joanne said cautiously.
‘Someone came to see me yesterday: some sort of psycho person . . .’
‘Psychiatrist you mean?’
‘I dunno, maybe. She said she thought I had a kind of breakdown – nervous exhaustion she said. Summat like that. She asked a few things and said a few other things, but I couldn’t tell you what they were now. Summat about stuff I’ve buried needing to come out.’
‘So – you need rest, that sort of thing?’
‘Yeah.’ He sighed, looking up at the ceiling. He wasn’t propped up so high today, was almost lying down. ‘I’ve got pills of some sort.’ Awkwardly he added, ‘And she said about counselling – summat like that.’
Joanne was amazed at his acceptance of this.
‘D’you think that might be a good idea?’ she asked cautiously.
He turned to her, seeming to need her approval. ‘Well, I need summat, don’t I? I can’t go on the way I was.’
‘Yeah, I s’pose,’ she agreed.
There was a silence. He looked at Amy. ‘I’m sorry, pet – I never meant to scare yer.’
Amy looked at him still with solemn reproach.
‘Friends?’ He held out his hand.
Amy hesitated. Then she nodded, and began to smile.
Fifty-Two
That Friday morning Margaret found she had done all her housework. She didn’t even need any groceries. So she did something she hadn’t done in years. Pulling on an extra cardi, she set off up the road to the park, on a walk for its own sake.
What would Karen say? Mom, boring old Mom, doing something different! The thought made her feel rather pleased with herself, as if she had a special secret all of her own.
It was only ten in the morning, sun and cloud alternating. The park was quiet, except for a couple of mothers pushing buggies and a scruffy man on a bench, who clearly had nowhere else to go.
She walked fast at first, glad to have a physical outlet for the feelings that kept surging through her. More than anything she felt cheated of the life she might have had, right from the word go. If only Mom had not been sick, if the war had not ruined everything, giving her a taste of something so much better than she had ever had before or since – a paradise snatched away. And then all these years she’d spent in thrall to Valium, a half-life, spent with a man who was only half a person.
The rage began to boil in her again, but she knew that, as much as anything, it was rage against herself. They had had serious words at home a few days ago. It was over Joanne again, of course. She had been furious with Joanne playing fast and loose, as she saw it, but now the truth was coming out about Dave: blue lights outside the house, social workers called in. Margaret was having to eat humble pie. She’d been wrong, assuming that Joanne was making it up. She’d had to swallow her pride and admit that, at least to herself. So she had said something harsher than she really meant to.
‘When’s running away from things ever done any good?’ This was at the tea table.
And Fred – Fred had looked up at her and said, ‘You’re being too hard on the wench, Margaret. She’s been a brave ’un, she has. You’re her mother; you could show her a bit of kindness.’
Kindness. Margaret had been struck dumb at this, and Fred had got up with his tea and taken it into the front room by the telly.
But Karen was still there and she was brewing up some choice remarks. She’d sat there with that pert, clever-clever look she had these days and said, ‘The thing you don’t seem to get, Mom, is that sometimes things need to change, and someone has to do something about it. And I think the reason you’re so down on Joanne is that she’s had the courage to get up and fight against what’s been happening to her. Well, maybe that’s what you should’ve done years ago, Mom. And maybe you’re just jealous because you never had the guts.’
Then she was off, tea in hand as well, and Margaret was left at the table, outraged at their attack on her and even more so because it was beginning to dawn on her that they were right. That maybe the fixed ideas that she had clung to had been more of a hindrance than a help.
She had reached the part of the park with the birdcages and sat down on a bench, her heart banging frighteningly hard. The emotions this outburst had caused had gushed through her like a tidal wave. She knew deep down that her gut reaction to Joanne taking off had been to envy and therefore condemn it. Just walking out – just like that! How dare she? Even at that moment, the other night, she’d followed the others into the front room and, over the voices of Coronation Street, announced, ‘All right – I admit it. I’ve been too hard on her.’
Karen leaned forward and turned down the sound, looking round warily at her mother.
‘Well, that’s all I’ve got to say. I just never would’ve thought it of Dave, that’s all. But I know Joanne’s a good girl, and I should’ve seen it more from her point of view.’
They both stared at her.
‘Well, good – that’s good,’ Karen said.
Since then Margaret had thought a lot about Joanne, trying to open herself up to her daughter and how she must feel, instead of putting rules in the way like walls. All her life Joanne had been a sweet-natured girl. Margaret felt quietly ashamed. It was true; what sort of a mom was she, carrying on like that, blaming her? Being in that refuge – it must have been horrible, frightening, for her and Amy, and all she’d done at the time was criticize. And what did it matter about anyone else and what they might think – even Dave? It was her daughter she should be putting first!
A young woman with blonde hair approached, pushing a buggy in which sat a baby, about a year old. She smiled vaguely at Margaret as she wheeled the buggy close to the cages to show the little boy the budgies and canaries, the mynah bird that said, ‘Hello Rocky!’ if you waited patiently. She seemed a calm, patient mother.
Margaret watched, shuddering at the memory of that stage of her life. It hadn’t been too bad with Joanne, those first years. She’d been a placid baby and it had still been early days in the marriage. It was after Karen that everything went wrong. Karen was more fractious, it was true, but it had not just been that. It was her own fault, the way she had sunk into a dark cavern of numbness and despair that she could not climb out of. She could not cope, was unable to make anyone hear her, even though in that numb silence she felt she was screaming and tearing at the walls.
One evening in particular burned corrosively in her memory. By now she had realized what Fred was like, the hollow man she had married. But this day, when Karen was about two months old and Joanne was approaching her third birthday, she had spent yet another day seeing no one but the two of them.
It was March, wet and blustery. Karen wouldn’t settle. Margaret hadn’t got on with breastfeeding either time, but the formula didn’t seem to suit Karen, either. She squirmed and screamed endlessly. There was no way to get out of the house; the rain was too heavy. The hours crawled by. Margaret sat, feeling crushed by the weight of the house, her marriage and the demands of the two children. She could hardly breathe or move, let alone manage the simplest thing. She wanted to run into the street screaming crazily for someone – just anyone – to come and rescue her.
The day passed somehow. She managed to cook sausages for Fred’s tea, with Karen held wailing against her shoulder. By the time he came in, the children were asleep for the moment. He ate, head down, saying very little. He barely looked at her. Margaret’s inner being was shrieking, Help me, for God’s sake just help me! But she had no idea how to ask, or what she really needed.
Fred finished his sausage and beans and looked up at her.
‘I’m just off to the pub then. Back in
a bit.’
And he was gone. And in that moment, which to her felt like a total betrayal, when she knew she was completely alone and always would be, however much she might be married, any feeling for him that still touched her heart was gone too.
Soon afterwards she went to the doctor and was drugged out of feeling anything much for the best part of twenty years.
The young woman moved away, leaving Margaret alone with the birds. The sun peeped round a cloud. She closed her eyes in the warmth and took deep breaths. There was a fruity smell of dying leaves.
I’m not used to all these feelings, she thought. That’s my trouble. Karen was forever on about feelings, as if she was some sort of expert. On the other hand, it was Karen who, when not being bossy, said things that made her heart swell and gave her hope.
‘Look, Mom,’ she’d said yesterday. ‘I know it must be hard, but you’ve got the chance of a new life. We’re grown-up now – you don’t have to stop in for us. You can do new things, have a life of your own. You don’t have to just stay the same.’
She’d brought that leaflet about the thing at the library. Of course Margaret’s first reaction had been to dismiss it – a load of old folks rambling on. Stupid waste of time! But she kept seeing the leaflet there by the phone, and it needled her. She had to admit, she was curious. And she knew they all thought she’d never do anything, would just stay stuck in her ways.
Now that the rage had passed through her she caught a glimpse of excitement. Her head felt clearer. A new life? It was a queer thought. Frightening. But she’d seen the way they looked at her sometimes. The thing that had come home to her was that they’d respect her more for making changes than for staying in the same old rut.
I’ll show them, she thought. I can do better than this, surely I can? And I’m only fifty – not quite over the hill yet. I’ve got life in me! I can be different.
Getting up, she strolled back between the grass and flowerbeds. For one thing, she’d come here, to the park, more often. It was soothing and gave you a chance to think. It would be part of her new start.
How did she want to be, she mused, now that she could begin to look at herself? What might she be like, the new Margaret Tolley? Calmer, for a start. More adventurous perhaps? Thinking back to the people in her life who had meant the most – the sisters in Buckley, Dora Jennings, her daughters, even Fred at times, who wasn’t all bad – she saw that they had one thing in common. That’s what I’d like to find most of all, she thought. Kindness. Above all, I’d like to be a bit kinder.
Fifty-Three
Sooky had said that it would be better if Joanne called round in the week, but she phoned on Saturday morning and said things were going to be unexpectedly quiet that afternoon – would Joanne like to bring Amy over then?
Joanne hesitated. Wendy was collecting Dave from the hospital and she did not know at what time. But he would need time to settle in – maybe it would be better if she didn’t go over there today.
‘That’s really nice of you,’ she told Sooky. ‘I’d love to.’
Almost as soon as she’d put the phone down, it rang again. Karen.
‘You’ll never guess what!’
‘No, I probably won’t,’ Joanne said wearily, hoping that whatever she was supposed not to be able to guess was not bad news.
‘She’s said she’ll go. To the group. With you.’
‘What?’ Joanne’s mind was so full of other things that she had no idea was Karen was on about.
‘Mom – the thing at the library.’
‘Oh!’
‘You can go, can’t you?’
‘Thursday morning? I s’pose, yeah.’ She didn’t like to say she felt a bit resentful about it.
‘Great!’ Karen enthused. ‘I could really do with being at work. That’s really good!’
Joanne put the phone down. Great! Taking Mom out to some weird meeting. Was that great?
Sooky’s house seemed big and imposing, a tall Edwardian semi with bay windows and mock-beams decorating the top storey. Joanne was relieved when it was Sooky who answered the door. She was dressed in a pink Punjabi suit, her hair loosely fastened, and was relaxed and smiling.
‘Hi, come in! You found us all right then? Hello, Amy!’
Even though it had been quite a walk getting there, Amy hadn’t fallen asleep. She had been excited about seeing her friend. Wheeling the buggy into the spacious hall, Joanne saw a black-and-grey carpet and religious pictures on the walls opposite. The house smelled different from what she was used to, with a spicy, perfumed atmosphere, but she couldn’t have said what the smell was. Priya came running to them from the back, giggling.
‘Come on in,’ Sooky said.
In the front room there were leather sofas, a big TV set, on at low volume, and toys scattered across the floor. Joanne saw a woman sitting on one of the sofas with her legs drawn up under her, in a turquoise suit. As they came in, she drew her scarf up from where it was lying round her neck, to cover her head. She was middle-aged, a thin woman, with a sweet, kindly face, though it wore a closed, shy look.
‘This is my mom,’ Sooky said. ‘She doesn’t speak English really – not much.’
She said something to her mother and Joanne heard her name, then Amy’s. Joanne and Sooky’s mother nodded solemnly at each other, and Joanne suddenly felt like a foreigner and wondered what Sooky’s mom thought of her. But she saw a slight smile play round the woman’s lips.
‘Would you like a cup of tea?’ Sooky asked.
‘That’d be nice,’ Joanne said. ‘Thanks.’
‘There’s some ready,’ Sooky said. ‘I won’t be long.’
Amy and Priya had already settled themselves in with the toys. Joanne felt awkward sitting there in silence with Sooky’s mom, but she was watching TV and only glanced at Joanne now and then and gave a slight smile. After a few moments a girl appeared, plump and jolly-looking. with a round face and big, smiling eyes.
‘Hello, I’m Harpreet.’ She had jeans on and a jumper, and plonked herself on the sofa. ‘I’m Sooky’s sister. You must be Joanne?’
She chatted away saying that their dad was out, ‘working as usual’, and their big brother Raj and his wife had taken their children out shopping. ‘Thank God!’ She rolled her eyes, but didn’t elaborate.
‘And then there’s my brother Pav – he’s probably still asleep! He’s a student; doing science is so exhausting!’ She grinned, giving a satirical shrug. Joanne liked her immediately.
Sooky came back with tea and biscuits on a tray and served everyone.
‘I made you English tea,’ she said. ‘I hope that’s all right.’
‘Fine,’ Joanne said. ‘Thanks.’ She wasn’t sure how else you might make tea.
They passed a lovely couple of hours. Joanne relaxed as the two sisters chatted to her. Sooky told her about the Poly, and Harpreet about her A-levels: biology, chemistry and geography.
‘That sounds hard,’ Joanne said, feeling a bit inadequate. They all seemed to be very clever! ‘What d’you want to do after?’
Harpreet shrugged. ‘Dunno, really. Maybe pharmacy? The only thing is, I’m not very good at maths.’
As they talked, every so often their mother would ask something and they answered and translated, and she was kept half in the conversation. Then she turned a video on low and watched that part of the time, still joining in. Amy and Priya were in heaven, and the time flew by.
‘Are you going back to the toddler group?’ Sooky asked as Joanne got up to leave, realizing it was nearly dinner time.
‘Oh – yes, I expect so. I hadn’t thought.’
‘I’m really sorry I’ll be missing it. Tuesdays are full up for me.’
Joanne wished she could offer to take Priya, but it was just too far to come and bring her back.
‘Maybe your mom could take her?’ she asked.
‘Mata-ji?’ Sooky said. Joanne heard her suggesting this idea in her language.
Sooky’s mom smiled shyly, but sh
ook her head, motioning a negative with her hand as well.
‘No, I thought not,’ Sooky said. ‘She’s shy – and she can’t really talk to anyone . . . Never mind. Can we meet up again?’
‘I’d love to,’ Joanne said. She hesitated. ‘I think I’ll be on my own at home next week – d’you want to come to mine?’
She walked home pushing Amy and glowing with the warmth of friendship.
In the middle of the afternoon the phone rang again. It was Wendy, sounding upset.
‘Joanne? It’s all right – I’ve got him home. But I think you’re going to have to come, love. I thought we’d just have a quiet day, you know, settling him in. But he wants you. That’s the only thing he’ll say.’
Joanne felt her stomach knot up. There was a long pause as she considered the business of getting to Northfield. It was after three already.
‘Look, call for a taxi – I’ll pay for it, love,’ Wendy implored her. Joanne was touched. Wendy was not exactly flush for money. ‘But please come, Joanne – I don’t think I can cope with him if you don’t.’
It started to rain as the taxi drove them across Birmingham, looping round the city, down through underpasses and out along the Bristol Road. Joanne kept her arm round Amy on the seat beside her. The trees were turning, the summer long gone, and the roads looked grey and anonymous. She felt sad and old suddenly. Her emotions were a ragbag of sorrow and longing, of hurt and anger. She thought about Gina, who seemed to consider being beaten as normal. Her mom, she’d said once, had flayed all her kids from pillar to post.
But it’s not normal for me, Joanne thought, rage rising in her again at the memory of how much of it she had allowed, how far she had let Dave oppress her. She knew she had been pushed too far, and hurt too much, to spring lightly back into ‘Let’s just try again.’ Not just like that. Something had been broken – the guarantee that they would always be together. After being in the refuge, everything looked different. She had made the break and distanced herself from him. She had discovered that she was capable of acting in her best interests and to protect Amy.
