Birmingham Friends

by Annie Murray

  ‘Who are these blokes around the place?’ she asked Edith.

  ‘They’re Olivia’s lodgers,’ Edith said, bravely accepting, but obviously not quite sure about it all. ‘They have the top floor, you see. There’s so much space. Sean studies engineering – I think – and Theo’s doing some sort of science, chemistry . . . And there’s Ben who you probably haven’t met. He’s a postgraduate. Something to do with languages.’

  Anna frowned. ‘Surely it’s still the holidays?’

  Edith looked perturbed. ‘Yes, I suppose it is. They don’t seem to go home though . . .’

  Olivia came back in with a beautifully laid tray of tea, including a plate of Indian sweets, bright with the red and green of cherries and pistachio.

  ‘A good job I took over from Sean,’ she said, ‘or you’d have had a teabag in a cup and a stale Rich Tea biscuit.’ She offered the plate of sweets to them, telling Anna, ‘These are a treat on Bengali afternoons. Edith comes to me once a week.’

  Anna nibbled a square of pistachio barfi, feeling its thick, milky sweetness slide over her tongue.

  ‘Mostly, you see, I make my living from teaching music – and the lodgers, of course,’ Olivia said, as she poured tea with an almost exaggerated grace.

  ‘Does your son live with you?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Krishna?’ Olivia’s face took on a glow. ‘Yes, he’s home at last. He’s just done his first year at college in London and is having a simply marvellous time.’ Anna noticed that the sing-song quality had gone from Olivia’s voice. Instead it had become gushing. ‘He’s out at the moment. He has an old friend in Kings Heath who owns a very nice furniture shop. Krish has done bits of work for him sometimes and poor Jake’s marriage seems to have broken up so I think Krish is company for him. Krishna would cheer anyone up, wouldn’t he, Edith?’

  Edith managed, ingeniously, through a mouthful of barfi, to adapt concerned cluckings over Jake’s marriage to noises of agreement and mirth concerning Krishna.

  ‘He’s doing his degree in anthropology,’ Olivia went on proudly. ‘And learning Bengali. He’s adoring it. Finding out about a culture that’s half his, after all. His father was from Calcutta, you see. I met him when I was studying in London myself after the war. He had a visiting lectureship.’ She related this in the tones of someone telling a fairy story. ‘I don’t make any secret of the fact that I’ve been a single parent – after all, it’s almost the mode nowadays. At first, though, I called myself Mrs, of course. It wasn’t the same at all in the early 1960s . . . It’s not at all easy bringing up a child by yourself – especially as my family couldn’t cope with what I’d done. But Krishna’s been the most wonderful child – I can hardly begin to tell you.’

  Edith nodded enthusiastically. ‘He’s a lovely boy. And I’m sure you’ve been a tower of strength, Olivia.’

  Olivia accepted this compliment graciously. ‘He’s the one who’s given me all the strength in the world. We keep in touch all the time when he’s away. We’re so close – sometimes it’s quite uncanny.’

  Anna watched her, fascinated. Sitting nearer Olivia now, she could see the slackness of her skin, a truer indication of her age. But she found herself mesmerized by her vivacity, coupled with an apparent openness and vulnerability which took her quite by surprise.

  When Edith had drunk her tea she departed, full of thanks, saying, ‘I’ll look forward to next Tuesday!’

  Olivia showed her out, then glided back into the room. Still in the charming voice, she said, ‘Edith used to be a missionary in Bangladesh. With the Baptists. Now she’s retired I think she’s a bit lost, poor soul. This gives her a purpose.’

  She moved to the piano, stood against it, her back very straight. Her face altered, as if something had dropped from it. In a tight voice, she said. ‘Did she want you to come?’

  Half prepared, Anna said truthfully, ‘I’m not sure.’

  ‘Then why did you?’

  ‘Because I wanted to.’

  ‘She told you about me?’

  ‘All the time when I was little. About your childhood together, your friendship. It made me long to have a friend like that myself. You had something very special.’

  Olivia’s eyes were fixed away from Anna across the room. In their expression Anna thought she glimpsed something hard and malevolent. Then, as if roused from her thoughts, she said, ‘Look, I’m terribly sorry, but I’ve another pupil due in a few minutes – piano this time. Would you be free to come again, say tomorrow evening? I don’t have any teaching late tomorrow and you could meet Krishna.’ She gave Anna one of her sudden, overwhelming smiles. ‘I’d so like to have a talk with you and hear about Kate after all this time. She was, as you say, my very best friend.’

  Anna found herself agreeing eagerly. At the front door, Olivia took her gently by her upper arms and reached up to kiss her. Anna felt Olivia’s breath on her cheek, smelled again the pungent perfume she had noticed in the room, some sort of scented hair oil.

  ‘You will come, won’t you?’ Olivia stood looking tiny under the high doorway, vulnerable again now.

  ‘Of course. Seven o’clock.’ Anna waved, backing down the drive.

  In the car she sat for a time once more, breathing heavily, aware of the fast beating of her heart.

  What on earth’s come over me? she thought. She knew that her emotion stemmed partly from the strangeness of touching the past, of beginning to close a circle. But it was more than that. It was something in Olivia herself that had stirred her in this way, and not to anger or resentment, the emotions she had felt obliged to carry with her, but to something quite unexpected. Reaching down to try and put the key in the ignition she realized her hands were shaking. She was fluttery and energized as if newly in love.

  Chapter 32

  Ben opened the door the next evening, still in the flip-flops.

  ‘Hi.’ He squinted out through the round spectacles like a mole, round face pressed into an anxious look, then smiled. ‘You’re Anna.’ He stood back to let her in. The house felt cool. She had put on an old sleeveless dress made of Indian cotton in pale blue and white stripes, long unworn because Richard said it made her look like Little Bo-Peep. She carried a bunch of white roses.

  ‘We’ve heard a lot about you.’

  Anna turned, startled. ‘From Olivia?’

  ‘No need to look so worried. All we’ve gathered is that you were the most beautiful baby the world’s ever seen – after Krish of course!’ Ben laughed. He spoke very fast, with a nervous fussiness about him. ‘That’s just Olivia. She’s very extravagant – things she says.’

  ‘I see,’ Anna said, rather uncertainly. She was distracted by noises from the rest of the house: voices, laughter, the pulsing of music. The hall was filled with a delicious, spicy smell.

  ‘Krish’s upstairs with Jake,’ Ben told her. ‘I’ll take you through. Olivia’s getting one of her feasts together.’

  ‘Are we all eating together then?’ Anna frowned. From what Olivia said the day before she had expected to be alone with her.

  ‘She does this every so often,’ Ben said as he showed her into the long room again. ‘Family meal she calls it. It’s just hard luck if we’ve got things on. We have to cancel or she’ll be under a cloud for days.’ Anna noticed the tone of indulgence in his voice. ‘As it’s out of term now there’s not much going on anyway, luckily.’

  Anna was peeved for a few seconds, feeling childishly that she wanted Olivia all to herself. But as soon as she walked into the long room she felt uplifted and found herself smiling. She had been alone so much this week: it would be good to have company.

  The round table was laid with a scarlet cloth, and Theo was putting cutlery on it, jigging around to a tune that must have been going on in his head, twirling forks in the air and catching them with a flourish before setting them down. At the other end of the room where there were a sofa and easy chairs, Sean was watching TV, perched forward on the edge of his seat. He didn’t look round, sat with shoul
ders hunched, Rizlas and lighter on the table, a skinny cigarette held close to his face. His hair looked lank and unkempt.

  ‘This is Anna,’ Ben told Theo.

  Theo stepped forward and to Anna’s surprise, shook hands with solemn formality. ‘Good to meet you properly – saw you yesterday, didn’t I?’

  Anna liked Theo immediately. ‘D’you need a hand with anything?’

  ‘No – I’m getting on fine thanks.’

  Theo went back to finish his juggling and table laying. Ben was just relieving Anna of the flowers when there was a soft rustling sound in the doorway.

  ‘Don’t try that with the glasses, Theo.’ Olivia made her entrance carrying a small tray of pickles. This time the sari was vivid blue, catching the light in a host of parrot shades.

  ‘Anna, my dear . . . Oh, and roses – how lovely, my favourite!’ She handed the tray regally to Theo and came to embrace her as if they were the closest of friends. Anna caught herself feeling gratified, her cheeks glowing, and was struck again by the contrariness of her feelings. Shouldn’t she feel more hostility and reservation, at least for Kate’s sake? Who was she here for after all – Kate or herself?

  ‘Now – you must sit down and bear with us for a few moments,’ Olivia was saying. ‘Ben will take care of you until it’s ready.’ Again Anna noticed the sing-song tone of her voice.

  ‘Oh, I don’t need looking after.’ She laughed.

  ‘Will you have a glass of wine? Or lassi? I’ve made it nice and salty.’

  ‘Wine, please.’ Anna glanced across at Sean. ‘All right if I smoke too?’

  ‘No problem,’ Ben said. ‘There’s an ashtray on the piano somewhere.’

  Anna sat on the piano stool sipping red wine, a cigarette in her other hand, looking round the room. There was a beautiful lightness about it – the pale wood of the floor and the long shelves across the room – with splashes of colour: rugs on the boards, rich silk saris at the windows and also bunched and draped across the high corners of the room. On either side of the piano were leaded fireplaces, and on the walls above them, in simple wood frames, hung batik pictures, one a brightly decorated elephant, the other a scene from an Indian village in sky blue and straw colours.

  Olivia bustled in and out carrying dishes, calling orders to Ben and Theo. ‘And Sean,’ she called. ‘You’re doing littlest of all. Please come and help me with the plates.’ She spoke in an imperious tone.

  Sean stood up slowly, pushing down the legs of his jeans, and paused to grind out his cigarette in a saucer.

  ‘Ben – go and fetch Krishna and Jake. It’s all ready.’

  Anna watched, fascinated by all this activity and by Olivia’s unquestioned authority over the household.

  ‘You’re working so hard,’ she commented.

  ‘I adore cooking,’ Olivia said, ‘especially this food. Useless doing it for one, though. Theo – water please. We’ll need a jug on the side there.’

  There came a burst of sound from upstairs, rock music which Anna knew she recognized but could not place before it was switched off abruptly. Then feet on the stairs.

  She was having to remind herself of Krishna’s existence, that Olivia had a grown-up son. She faced the door, preparing a smile. When he appeared her smile broadened. She stood up.

  ‘Anna?’ Like Theo, he shook her hand.

  ‘Krishna? I’m so pleased to meet you.’ She was looking into a face of enormous charm. He had round, boyish cheeks, the skin flawless, huge teeth creamy as almonds and deep brown eyes. He was wearing tight black jeans and a black T-shirt, and there was a ripeness about him just short of being plump, a hint of puppy fat not yet lost. There was something immensely appealing about him and it crossed Anna’s mind to wonder whether this was the Kemp charm working through the generations.

  ‘This is my mate, Jake,’ Krishna said. He indicated a tall, lean man behind him with shoulder-length brown hair, a long, serious face and eyes that were beginning to hold a smile. He said ‘Hello’ quietly.

  ‘What were you listening to up there?’ Anna asked. ‘I know I recognized it . . .’

  ‘Van Morrison,’ Krishna said. He gave Jake a playful punch on the arm. ‘He reckons he’s educating my musical tastes.’

  ‘I’ve nearly persuaded him to part with the Donny Osmond singles,’ Jake said drily.

  ‘Surely it’s not that bad?’ Anna said.

  ‘You’d be surprised.’

  ‘Ah, Krishna – ’ Olivia emerged from the kitchen, followed by Sean. ‘Come and fetch the rice for me, will you, darling? The others have been doing all the work. It’s time you did something.’

  Krishna made a comical face at Anna. ‘I see you’ve already met the three stooges?’

  She laughed, feeling a rush of contentment and liking for these people.

  They sat round the table, blood-red napkins to match the cloth folded on white side plates. Anna was between Theo and Jake, facing Olivia across the dishes piled with food, between which Olivia had lit deep blue candles.

  At the centre of the table was a casserole full of scented rice, sprigged with dark splinters of cinnamon, fat green cardamom pods, and dotted with coriander seeds like game shot. Displayed round it, in blue ceramic dishes, was spiced chicken in a rich tomato sauce, a bright, mustard-coloured dal sprinkled with fresh green coriander leaves, and other vegetable dishes, potatoes and cauliflower, aubergines, okra. On a wooden board she had piled chapatis.

  The boys let out whoops and whistles of appreciation at the sight of the food.

  ‘Hey, yeah,’ Theo said enthusiastically. ‘Come on – let’s get this wine flowing.’

  ‘I thought you were a good, church-going boy,’ Krish teased him. ‘No drinking, no cinema – ’ He made a poor attempt at a Jamaican accent: ‘No idolatry av tings av de flesh . . . eh Titty?’

  Theo gave a pained though good-natured grimace, then jabbed a finger at Krish, mock threatening. ‘I’ll see you afterwards.’

  ‘Don’t call him that,’ Olivia said. ‘It’s not nice.’

  ‘I think you ought to explain to Anna,’ Ben said, seeing her puzzled face.

  Theo grinned, spooning rice on to his plate. ‘My name’s Theophilus, right? My mom’s into the Acts of the Apostles in a big way – and I mean a big way. All the family’s called names from the early church. Trouble is, I’ve got five older brothers, so by the time she got to me the decent names like Peter and John and Stephen were all used up, so I got to be Theophilus Timothy.’

  ‘TT,’ Krish finished. ‘Titty.’

  ‘Enough!’ Olivia commanded.

  Like everyone else, Anna filled her plate, listening to the talk around her. Her initial feeling of rawness had passed, the strangeness of being alone again in social situations. She had been everywhere with Richard for so long. Too long. She began to feel at ease, having neither too much nor too little attention paid to her. She found she was grateful that Olivia had organized this, instead of plunging them into a private, probably nerve-racking conversation, when they barely knew each other.

  She sat trying to get the measure of this new bunch of people.

  Sean, sitting on Olivia’s left, said almost nothing throughout the meal. He ate with his pale face bent over his plate, shovelling the food in with no grace. Once or twice, though, she noticed Olivia turn to him and their eyes met. Anna watched, puzzled, unable to read the signal being passed between them. Otherwise Sean came across as preoccupied and distant, and she didn’t feel prepared to try and draw him into the conversation. There was enough talk for him not to be pressurized to speak.

  Krishna began the meal by creating a deep ring of rice on his plate, heaping it hugely with the chicken and vegetables and finally laying a chapati across the top like a hat. He sat back, childishly inviting everyone to look, patting his stomach with his hands in anticipation.

  ‘I’m sure I’m getting fat being back at home,’ he said. ‘Next week I’m going to join the hunger strike.’ He let out a laugh. ‘What do I have to do t
o get into the Maze?’

  Ben reddened across the table. ‘That’s not bloody funny, Krish. Everything’s a joke to you, isn’t it? Ha ha bloody ha.’

  Krishna held his hands up, shielding himself. ‘Sorry. Sorry – very poor taste I fully admit. It’s all right, Ben, you can step off your soap box now.’ He gave one of his appealing grins and said to Anna, ‘Ben here is our elder statesman.’

  Anna felt sympathy for Ben. Krishna’s crassness was already grating on her. To smooth over the difficult moment she said, ‘I gather you’re doing research?’

  ‘Yep. Modern French poets.’

  ‘How’s it going?’ Theo asked.

  ‘Badly,’ Ben said irritably. ‘Don’t know why I’m doing the wretched thesis.’

  ‘Come, now,’ Olivia said. ‘You’re going through a bad patch. That’s how it goes sometimes with research. But you don’t just give up because you reach a dead end for a bit. You have to wait to get to the next notch. I promise you it’ll be worth it.’ Her voice held smooth, maternal concern.

  ‘I hope you’re right.’ Ben’s cheeks were flaming. ‘Sometimes I think I’d be a lot better out there earning some money.’

  ‘Believe in yourself.’ Olivia put her hand on his. ‘Look, if it’s getting you down, come and talk about it.’ Her tone was caressing now, soothing him. ‘You know I’m always here, don’t you?’

  ‘Yeah – thanks,’ Ben said, with the reluctant gratitude of a child who feels foolish crying in front of his friends.

  ‘Anna, you’ve got no pickles,’ Krish said. ‘You should try them. She makes them herself, you know.’ He gave Anna such a sweet smile that her growing irritation with him was eased a little. She accepted some of the tangy lime pickle.

  ‘What do you do, Anna?’ he asked. ‘Are you at the university too?’

  ‘No. I’m a teacher – in Coventry. History.’ Simpler not to mention that she’d just resigned.

  ‘Oh?’ Krish frowned, looking at Olivia. ‘But you said you knew her when she was young?’