With the baby in the crook of her arm, she went about securing headache tablets and a badly needed pint of any available liquid. With medication ingested, she sat on the loo with the baby in her arms staring at the ceiling with an intensity that made Melissa wonder if Carrie could see something that she could not. Carrie didn’t like it if her mother sat for long so the business in the loo was concluded quickly. Melissa felt sick and hoped to God her system wouldn’t require purging. How can I walk, hold the baby and vomit? Can’t hold baby and basin at the same time but maybe I could manage a pot. God almighty, please just let me get through the morning. Of course, there was no rest for Melissa once the men of the house got up. There was breakfast to make and lunches to pack, necessary items to find.
‘Mum, where’s my Bart T-shirt?’
‘Melissa, have you seen my phone?’
‘Mum, where’s my runners?’
‘I could have sworn I put my briefcase by the sofa in the sitting room. Have you seen it?’
‘Mum, where’s my lunchbox?’
‘My keys. My keys! Have you seen my poxy keys?’
‘Mum, where’s my pencil with the picture of Captain Jack Sparrow and the rubber on top?’
She’d have to shower, iron clothes, make her child’s lunch, steam bottles, drink a coffee, fix her hair and apply enough makeup to hide the fact that she was haggard and ready to give up. I might just need a roller to plaster my makeup on.
Gerry was bright as a button and pretending he hadn’t let her down. ‘Good morning, good wench.’
‘Don’t good-wench me!’
After acquiring his briefcase and keys he kissed her forehead and she momentarily contemplated head-butting him. She didn’t for fear of mentally scarring her eldest child so instead she stormed out of the room, banging the door for effect.
‘Jacob, is Mummy in bad humour?’ Gerry asked, ruffling his son’s hair.
‘She told me to shove my Captain Jack Sparrow pencil with the rubber on top where the sun don’t shine,’ he said, between mouthfuls of cereal.
‘Well, I’m sure Captain Jack has no business going there,’ he said, and drank out of the orange-juice carton.
‘Dad?’
‘Uh-huh?’
‘Where doesn’t the sun shine?’
‘In the shade, son.’
‘Oh. I don’t think he’d really mind so.’
Melissa packed her son’s lunch into his schoolbag, then pulled the Captain Jack pencil from her pocket and handed it to him.
‘Where’d you find it?’
‘In the treasure trove that resides under your bed.’
‘Thanks, Mum,’ he said, and ran outside to the car.
Gerry pretended he hadn’t noticed she was annoyed. ‘Where’s my kiss?’
‘Go fuck yourself, Gerry.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Not as nice as being a lone parent.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ he said, sighing dramatically.
‘Get out! Get out before I knife you.’
It struck him that she meant it. ‘Melissa, you seriously need help,’ he said, shaking his head as though her outburst had been somehow irrational.
‘Yes, Gerry, I do. I need your help – but it looks like I’m not going to get it so fuck off out before I do you in, okay?’
Gerry left quickly. Mrs Rafferty, the babyminder, arrived just in time to give Melissa half an hour to get to a budget meeting that would start in ten minutes and last the next four hours. She would eat a sandwich at her desk before enduring a further sales meeting that would last another four hours, forcing her to take her paperwork home. She’d feed her baby, work on her sales figures, burp her baby, work on graphs, and rock her baby to sleep while printing off her sales proposals. The baby would sleep. Jacob would need help with homework, then he and Melissa would fight over the TV and what he wanted to watch as opposed to what he was allowed to watch. She’d shout; he’d sulk. She’d all but force-feed him his dinner, negotiations breaking down early in the proceedings. ‘Just eat the food, Jacob. Eat the bloody food!’
Gerry would get home a little after seven thirty. He’d dish his meal from the oven, take it into the sitting room and there he would sit with a tray and his four-year-old, now jaded from his campaign to break his overworked mother, and together they would vegetate in front of the sports channel. I hate my life. I can’t do this any more. Melissa had been unable to take any longer than six weeks’ maternity leave because of her position as team leader on a massive account that required her constant supervision.
‘If it was last year or next year, Melissa, we could have accommodated you but this year you’re killing us.’
Melissa had made the sacrifice for the sake of the team because she was a team player. She was suffering from a mild case of post-natal depression when she went back, and although that had passed, it felt like a lifetime since she had been able to breathe. She had broached the subject of leaving work with Gerry on a number of occasions, but he was adamant that they couldn’t afford it. She had broached the subject of working part time with her boss but he was adamant that they needed her full time and working longer rather than shorter hours. She spent her time juggling her work and home life and all she seemed to be doing was apologizing to all and sundry for her inability to split herself in two while battling exhaustion. She was on a never-ending treadmill going nowhere fast. I’m so, so tired.
It was just before nine and both kids were in bed when she eventually had time to sit down and phone Harri. ‘Hi,’ she opened the conversation wearily.
‘Hi, yourself.’
‘Are you okay?’ Melissa asked.
‘Can’t wait for Wednesday!’ Harri said airily, as though it was a joke.
She wasn’t fooling anyone, never mind her best friend. ‘I don’t know what to say to you except that I’m sorry for getting so drunk last night.’
‘You needed to blow off some steam,’ Harri said knowingly.
‘I did.’
‘How are you feeling?’
‘Like crying.’ Melissa laughed but she wasn’t capable of fooling anyone either, and especially not her best friend.
‘We’re a fine pair.’
‘Undeniably.’
‘Melissa?’
‘Yes?’
‘We’ll get over it, okay?’
‘Yeah, we will.’
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
After that they talked about a book Harri had been trying to read, a show Melissa had been watching and a song that a girl in Melissa’s office had been humming that went la la la la la la la la. Harri said it definitely sounded familiar but couldn’t pinpoint it, and Melissa maintained it was at the tip of her tongue and driving her insane and she couldn’t stop humming it all the time.
‘Just ask her,’ Harri said.
‘She’ll think I’m nuts.’
‘She’s the hummer.’
‘She is the hummer.’
‘Hummers are notoriously unstable,’ Harri said, clearly confident that her friend was too tired to delve into her reasoning.
‘You’re right. I’ll just ask her.’
‘You’ll have to wait until tomorrow.’
‘Oh, Mother of God!’
It was a little before eleven. The clinic was busy enough. Harri took a number and pointed Beth to a chair in the corner and away from a man who looked like a stalker. Beth was quiet and determined to keep her head down. She didn’t talk for a little while. Instead she buried her head in InStyle magazine. Harri picked up Time. A woman in a nice suit sat next to Beth, who made a face at Harri. Harri pretended not to notice. They returned to their magazines. The woman got up and walked down the hall, possibly towards a coffee shop.
‘I wonder what’s wrong with her,’ Beth whispered from behind her magazine.
‘I have no idea,’ Harri repl
ied, in an undertone.
‘I hope it’s not catching,’ Beth said, making the face again.
‘You mean like crabs?’
‘Ouch!’
‘Just reminding you that you are in no position to judge.’
‘Fair enough. I do like her suit.’
Minutes passed. Harri was reading about the environment and how we were all pretty much dead because of toxic water. Beth was looking at nice shoes. She raised her magazine to just below her eyes. ‘Harri?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Do you think I’ll be with a woman doctor?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘I don’t want a man.’
‘You’ll be fine.’
‘Do you think I’ll have to take anything off?’
‘I’m not sure but probably.’
Tears welled in Beth’s eyes. ‘I don’t want to.’
Harri smiled at her. It was easy to forget she was only sixteen. She acted so grown-up but when she cried, she was, as Bob Dylan had once so beautifully put it, just like a little girl. ‘They see this every day,’ she said, nudging Beth the way George often nudged her.
‘They don’t see me every day,’ Beth said, tears dripping from her chin.
‘I know it’s embarrassing,’ Harri said. ‘Wait until you’re my age and have to go for a smear test every three years!’ She raised her eyes to heaven.
Beth’s eyes dried slightly. ‘Is that sore?’
‘Just embarrassing.’
‘You get embarrassed?’
‘I lose the power of speech. I used to live with a girl once called Tina Tingle.’
‘Tina Tingle?’ Beth asked, in a voice that suggested she didn’t believe it.
‘Tina Tingle,’ Harri confirmed. ‘During Tina’s first smear test she farted.’ She smiled at Beth. ‘Loudly. It was no real surprise as the woman lived on Indian takeaways.’
Beth dropped her magazine to just under her nose and laughed.
‘You’ll be fine,’ Harri said.
‘I suppose if I’m old enough to have sex I should be old enough to handle the consequences.’
Harri leaned back in her chair, sighing. ‘How did you get to be so emotionally intelligent at sixteen? Compared to you I was a dribbling dope.’
‘All of life’s bigger questions are asked and answered in teen dramas,’ Beth said, ‘especially Dawson’s Creek. It’s a cliché-ridden classic. I have seasons one to three on DVD if you’re interested.’
Harri giggled. ‘I think I’m past teen dramas but thanks for the offer.’
Beth’s name was called. Harri gave her the thumbs-up. Her young friend had gone pale but she went in regardless. Good for you. I would have been scratching for years.
Later, after Harri had paid the bill and purchased the required medicine, and Beth had spent an inordinate amount of time in the Ladies at the Elephant and Castle restaurant in Temple Bar, which was close to George’s apartment, they ate lunch in a seat by a large window.
‘You’re staring out,’ Beth observed.
‘So I am.’
‘You’re looking for George.’
‘He comes here a lot,’ Harri said, as though to herself.
‘I heard the drunkards talk last night after you left. They’re worried about you and about the secret.’
‘Do you know about it?’ Harri asked, betraying a little alarm.
‘I know there is a secret.’
Harri looked back towards the window. ‘He’s avoiding me.’
‘He thinks he’s shielding you.’
Harri laughed. ‘Is that what you reckon?’
‘No – it’s what Aidan said after you left.’
‘Oh. So what do you think about all of this? Any Daniel’s Peak-related light to shed on the matter?’ She was amused by Beth’s supposed clarity.
‘It’s Dawson’s Creek and this secret, well, it’s probably nothing.’ Beth nodded. ‘Adults tend to overcomplicate things.’
Harri smiled. ‘I’ll bear that in mind.’
They had finished their buffalo wings and Beth was waiting on an ice-cream-based dessert. ‘Harri?’
‘Yes.’
‘What do you think about my dad?’
Harri shook her head. ‘I don’t know what to say about that.’ She had a habit of speaking her mind, which was probably why the sixteen-year-old warmed to her.
‘He’s a dick,’ Beth said categorically.
‘Beth!’
‘Don’t defend him. He’s been missing in action for over six months. He’s treating my mum like crap. I see how she suffers.’
‘Life isn’t that simple.’
‘That’s what she says and it’s bull because I’m the one listening to her cry.’
‘It’s a bad time but they might recover,’ Harri said cautiously, knowing she was treading on dangerous ground.
‘He’s obviously having an affair. God, for all we know he could have a whole other family.’
‘You watch too much TV.’
‘Yeah, well, you don’t watch enough.’
Harri took her statement on board. Maybe she’s right.‘Beth, sometimes what we see isn’t all it seems. I know you love your mum and you’re fiercely protective and that’s great – but you know she’s capable, right?’
‘I used to think so.’
‘She is, so I’m asking you to back off and give them a chance. They need to work it out themselves.’
Beth’s dessert appeared, and silence reigned for three or four minutes.
‘Harri?’
‘Yes?’
‘Do you miss James?’
‘Yes.’
‘Do you want him back?’
Tears stung Harri’s eyes. ‘Yes.’
‘Does he want you?’
‘I don’t know. Probably not.’
‘I’m sorry. I really am.’
‘Thanks.’ Harri pressed her eyes before the tears gained enough weight to fall. ‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’ Beth asked, between spoonfuls of ice-cream.
‘Do you miss your boyfriend? What was his name?’
‘Mark.’
‘Do you miss Mark?’
‘Mark is a slutty slut-riding slut machine.’
‘That’s not what I asked.’
Beth sighed and allowed a moment to pass. ‘I do.’
‘You really liked him.’
‘I thought I loved him.’ Beth’s eyes were now focused on her feet. ‘I might still.’
‘I understand.’
‘I don’t. I’ve cried more than I’ve ever cried before – and that includes when Mr Bo Jangles died when I was nine. That dog was my life but I’ve shed more tears over a boy who gave me crabs. I feel sick about that.’
‘Hang in there, kiddo!’
‘You too.’
Harri dropped Beth to the Dart station. Beth had hugged and thanked her and Harri told her that their day spent in a VD clinic had been a pleasure.
9 June 1975 – Monday
Okay, it’s been a full week but at last today I talked to Matthew. I was cleaning a stable door, which was covered in God knows what but whatever it was it was hard to get off. He was passing, taking Lovely Lucinda for a trot, when his dad, the Dreaded Delamere, shouted to him. He had come down from the posh part of the grounds where they train the posh horses and where the rich people helicopter in. I’m not allowed over there – it’s a whole courtyard and field over. It even has its own entrance. He was wearing wellies. I don’t know him but he looked weird in wellies, as though it was a wrong fit. Matthew froze. I could see his back straighten the way mine does when I hear HIM come in.
Anyway, Dreaded Delamere started shouting about Nero, the horse Matthew exercises. He said he was lame and it was Matthew’s fault. Matthew didn’t defend himself. I wanted to say, ‘It’s not his fau
lt,’ and ‘How dare you?’ but I don’t know if it is and I don’t want to get fired. I really like this job. Dreaded Delamere stormed off leaving Matthew standing in front of me, upset and embarrassed. I said all dads were dicks. He agreed. I said mine was dead and he apologized, which I thought was nice. I told him I had a stepdad who made his dad look like a saint. He disagreed. He said my stepdad would have to go a long way to beat his dad. I know the man only shouted at him and I know I don’t know him or his dad but I think deep down he has a case. I don’t trust the Dreaded Delamere. He makes me feel weird. I don’t care how rich he is.
Sheila had a fight with Dave. She said he doesn’t understand her, whatever that means. Sheila’s losing it. I think it’s because Dave keeps dropping the hand and she said the other night that last week he shoved his fingers up her privates. Apparently that’s not comfortable.
Mam’s bruises are going down. Her lip is still cut but it’s not as fat. HE’s moved out. She left his stuff in the garden and he picked it up with a friend from the docks. Maybe this time it’s for good. I really hope so. Father Ryan was back around. He and Mam sat in the sitting room alone for over an hour. I tried to listen at the door but Father Ryan is an awful man for whispering. Dr B called too. He was checking in on Mam. I didn’t know her rib was broken. He was making sure it was healing well. He said it was. I made him tea and put out a plate of custard creams which I didn’t realize had gone soft. NIGHTMARE.
Mam was way nicer to him than she had been in the hospital – she even apologized. He said there was no need. That’s just like him. We walked out together. He asked me about my new job and I told him about Matthew. He teased me about liking him and I blushed!!! What a SPAZ. I told him later that he had sad eyes and I swear I saw a tear although it disappeared quickly, but I know what I saw.
The Truth Will Out Page 6
