A Friend of the Family

by Lisa Jewell

  He picked up Dad’s Guardian and had a quick wander around the house, another thing he always did. Jesus, he had no idea how they lived like this. And it got worse the older they got. He worried about them, actually – they were still young now, still had all their faculties; but what would happen to them when they were older, when Ned wasn’t at home any more to keep an eye on them? Their house was quirky now, eccentric – things got piled up and hoarded, washing-up got ignored, hoovering was a monthly event, if the carpet was lucky. But it was still warm, homely and relatively clean. That might not always be the case. There was a fine line between clutter and squalor. What would happen when it got unsavoury and unhygienic – what would happen to Mum and Dad then? God, they’d end up like those loons you saw on documentaries who had rats the size of cocker spaniels living in their mattresses and their neighbours would call the council on them. Jesus, they’d become a health hazard.

  Tony put these niggling little concerns to the back of his mind and headed into the living room. Where he found Gervase stretched out on the sofa, fully clothed, slack-jawed and snoring voluminously with Goldie lying across his legs, drooling.

  Delightful, thought Tony, just absolutely delightful.

  ‘Goldie!’ he snapped, striding into the room. ‘Get down off there!’ He tapped the dog on the haunches with the Guardian until he finally heaved his stinking old carcass off the furniture and flopped on to the floor.

  Gervase stirred slightly and made a disturbing snorty noise.

  ‘Tony,’ he said, raising himself up on to his elbow and reaching for his fags. ‘Sorry, mate. Didn’t hear you coming in. I was out for the count.’ He snorted, wiped his nose with the back of his hand and lit a cigarette.

  ‘Yes,’ said Tony, ‘I noticed.’

  ‘Wasn’t intending to fall asleep like that. Last thing I remember I was watching the racing,’ he indicated the TV, which was now showing Stars In Their Eyes. ‘Bit of a heavy night last night.’ He swung round on the sofa, reached for the remote and switched off the TV. ‘Fucking hate that cunt,’ he said by way of explanation. ‘So. Come to see your mum, have you? I think she’s out shopping.’

  ‘Yes. I know. She’s out with Ness. I’ve come to pick her up.’

  ‘That’s nice,’ said Gervase, inhaling and smoothing the top of his flat-top with the palm of his hand. ‘Taking her somewhere nice?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Ness.’

  ‘No. Not really. Just to a friend’s for dinner.’

  ‘Well – that’s nice, isn’t it? Dinner at a friend’s? I’d like that.’

  Tony started, thinking for a moment that Gervase was trying to get himself an invite, and then relaxed when he realized that he wasn’t.

  ‘So. Tony. How are you?’

  ‘Good. I’m good.’

  There was a brief silence during which Tony felt the pull of social convention forcing him to ask Gervase how he was.

  ‘You?’

  ‘Me? I’m fantastic. Specially now I’ve had a bit of a nap. You’re looking trim.’ Gervase eyed him up and down.

  ‘Really?’ Tony patted his belly. ‘Do you think so?’

  Gervase squinted at him.’ Yeah. Definitely. Especially round here –’ he squeezed his own cheeks – ‘around the chops. You been on a diet?’

  Buoyed by this unexpected compliment, Tony relaxed a little and flopped into the armchair opposite Gervase. ‘No. Not a diet exactly. Just been watching what I eat. You know.’

  Gervase nodded at him encouragingly.

  ‘But I am, er…’ Tony paused, wondering why he was about to say this to Gervase, but saying it anyway, ‘I’m joining a slimming club, actually.’

  ‘Oh yeah?’

  ‘Yeah. First class on Monday.’

  ‘Yeah? I’ve heard they work, those slimming clubs. Good on yer.’ Gervase threw him one of his stiff, awkward smiles and Tony felt disproportionately pleased.

  ‘But don’t tell Mum, will you?’ he said. ‘She’ll get all worried. You know – mums. And don’t tell Ned. He’ll just take the piss.’

  ‘Course not. Your secret’s safe with me. Everyone’s secrets are safe with me…’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Nothing, mate, nothing. Just that I’m a very discreet man. I am the very soul of discretion.’

  They fell silent for a moment. Tony examined his fingernails and then looked up to find Gervase staring at him intently, with a really concerned expression on his face.

  ‘You OK, Tony?’

  ‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ he replied, tersely.

  And then Gervase suddenly got off the sofa, his cigarette hanging out of his mouth, strode towards Tony and put his hands on the crown of his head. Tony wanted to react in some way, to protest, but there was something about Gervase’s touch that made him go all liquid and ineffectual. It was like Gervase was sucking all the negativity out of him and leaving him with just the few odds and ends of nice stuff he still had floating around somewhere in there.

  He heard Gervase suck his breath in. ‘Jesus Christ, Tony, you’ve got to stop it!’

  ‘Stop what?’

  ‘This madness. It’s not going to work.’

  ‘What – the slimming club?’

  ‘No. Not the slimming club. The slimming club’s a great idea, Tone. Honest. No – you’ve got to stop this obsession. Knock it on the head.’

  Tony flinched.

  ‘Keep your dreams real, mate. The only person who’s going to get hurt otherwise is you, you know?’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I don’t know what I’m talking about. All I know is I’m right. What I’m saying is right. It’s up to you to work out what the fuck I’m going on about. OK?’

  ‘OK.’ Tony felt mesmerized, unable to respond or react in any way.

  ‘Look around you, mate. Look at what’s real. You’ve got it all. Yeah?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘You’ve got more than most. You don’t need anything else.’

  And then Gervase suddenly pulled his hands off Tony’s head, and started slapping it instead. ‘Fuck – sorry, mate – dropped a bit of ash in there. It’s all right, though – it’s not smouldering or anything.’ He patted Tony on the back and went back to the sofa. Tony ran his fingers through his hair vigorously and shuddered.

  Before he had a chance to question Gervase about the bizarre thing that had just happened there was a commotion at the front door and the sound of high-pitched female excitement. Mum and Ness.

  ‘Hello, boys,’ said Mum, bundling into the room with about ten carrier bags and a red-wine flush about her cheeks. ‘Hello, love,’ she leant down to kiss the crown of Tony’s head. She took a big sniff of his hair. ‘Oh, Tony – you haven’t started smoking again, have you, love?’

  ‘No,’ he muttered, ‘I haven’t.’

  Ness rolled in after Mum, with approximately twice as many carrier bags as her and an even deeper red-wine flush. She flung her arms around his neck and gave him a big smacker on the lips. ‘Hello, gorgeous.’

  She smelt of garlic and wine and he resisted the temptation to sneer at her. ‘Hi,’ he mumbled.

  ‘Coffee, anyone?’ said Mum.

  ‘Yes, please,’ said Ness. ‘Sorry we’re late. Bernie dragged me into All Bar One and forced me to drink wine.’

  ‘Oh yes, like it took much persuasion,’ said Bernie, laughing and disappearing into the hallway.

  ‘So I guess I’ll be driving tonight, then?’ said Tony, somewhat unnecessarily as he’d already offered to drive that morning.

  ‘No one asked you to drive, Tony,’ said Ness, kicking off her shoes and sitting next to Gervase. ‘I said I’d be happy to pay for cabs. Hello, you,’ she said, leaning in to kiss Gervase. ‘I hope you’re in a better mood than old grumpy chops over there.’

  ‘I’m always in a good mood when I see you, gorgeous. Mwah.’

  ‘Aww,’ said Ness, grinning and giving him a quick hug.

  Oh, for God’s sa
ke. Tony couldn’t stand this. Bloody Gervase. What was that just then with his head touching and the stupid bloody warnings? And Ness, pissed again and all buddy-buddy with Mum. And all over Gervase, too. Look at her. What was it with that bloke, extracting confidences from him, taking over his parents’ house, flirting with his girlfriend?

  He watched them with annoyance, giggling together, Gervase’s eyes straying to Ness’s long, shapely legs every few seconds, and for some inexplicable reason Tony suddenly felt consumed with jealousy.

  ‘Come on,’ he said, standing up abruptly, ‘let’s go.’

  ‘What?’ said Ness, looking at her watch. ‘But we don’t need to be there for another half an hour.’

  Tony took a deep breath. ‘I don’t care. I’ll drive slowly. Let’s just get out of here.’

  Ness exchanged a look with Gervase and got to her feet. ‘Yis, sah,’ she said, standing to attention. ‘But let me get changed first – I want to wear my new skirt.’

  Tony sighed and sat down. ‘OK. But get a move on.’

  Ness grabbed one of her myriad carrier bags and headed upstairs to the bathroom. Gervase stared at Tony, thoughtfully.

  ‘What?’ said Tony.

  ‘She’s a good girl, your Ness. You should be a bit nicer to her. You’ll lose her if you’re not careful.’

  ‘Jesus Christ!’ said Tony, finally losing the plot and feeling all his insides rushing to his head with anger. ‘What is it with you, eh? Haven’t you got your own life to think about? Eh? Your own family to plague? I mean, what was that shit just now, with the… the head and everything?’ He grabbed his hair in exasperation. ‘And what the hell is it with you and Ness, eh? Always all over her, all that “gorgeous” business. And don’t think I haven’t seen the way you look at her legs, mate. I mean – just… what?! What is it with you? Who the hell are you?!’

  ‘Tony!’ said Mum, coming into the living room, clutching two mugs of coffee. ‘What on earth is going on in here?’

  ‘Nothing,’ said Tony, giving up the whole playing-the-big-scary-man thing and landing petulantly in his armchair. ‘Nothing. Just… just. Nothing.’

  ‘I think Tony was just wondering what I’m all about, actually, Bern. And who can blame him? It’s a question I ask myself. Often.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ness, walking into the room wearing a skirt that was even shorter than the skirt she’d been wearing before, which was some achievement. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Are you actually going out in that?’ said Tony, staring at her legs in amazement.

  ‘Yes. And?’

  ‘And – well – it’s a bit short, isn’t it?’

  ‘Oh come on, Tony. Look at those legs,’ said Bernie, ‘they’re incredible. Ness should be showing them off.’

  ‘Ten years ago, maybe,’ he muttered under his breath.

  ‘Oh, Jesus, Tony,’ Ness raised her eyebrows to the ceiling, ‘you really are in a spanky mood tonight, aren’t you? OK,’ she said turning to Bernie and Gervase, ‘I’m going to get this miserable old sod out of here. See you both soon. Come on, you old bugger.’ She gestured at Tony and he rose from his armchair with a grumble.

  They drove to Rob and Trisha’s in near silence. Tony knew he’d been a complete git and his head was full of apologies but he couldn’t seem to transfer them to his mouth. He hated the way Ness did this to him. It didn’t matter what he said or what he was feeling or how ridiculous he was being, she just ignored it. She was like human Tefal – he just glided straight over her. If only she’d get angry. If only she’d get hurt. If only she’d said, ‘God Tony, I don’t deserve to be treated like this, I’m out of here.’But she didn’t – she just ruffled his hair and called him a bugger and made him feel like a normal human being.

  Which was probably why they were still going out. Any normal woman would have walked out ages ago. But not Ness. Ness just went on and on and on loving him. She had an infinite supply of love. And not just for him. For anyone. His parents, cab drivers, animals tied up outside supermarkets, people on the television, Gervase. She was a big, oozing love machine. And oh God, he could do without it right now, do without her.

  He didn’t want a big, oozing love machine. He wanted a woman who wouldn’t put up with his shit, who would force him to behave like a proper, decent person. He wanted a bad-tempered, honey-skinned, pregnant woman with a flat full of beautiful things. If he was with Millie, he thought, he’d stay slim, he’d wear nice clothes, and no matter what sort of mood he was in, or how bad a day he’d had, he’d make sure he was happy for Millie when he got home. If he was with Millie, he’d be different. Everything about him would be different. Everything about him would be better. Just being in her presence made him feel like someone completely new.

  Being in Ness’s presence made him feel like the biggest old cunt known to man.

  ‘Tony,’ said Ness, breaking the silence, ‘I know this probably isn’t the best time to bring this up. I know you’re in a bad mood, but, let’s face it, if I waited until you were in a good mood to talk to you about anything, we’d never talk to each other again. But I’ve been thinking. You know how we haven’t been seeing much of each other lately? And you’ve been really busy at work? Well, I really miss you. God knows why, but I do. And I was thinking, we’ve been together for nearly a year now and maybe it’s time we thought about, maybe, you know, moving in together?’

  Tony absorbed the question, slowly and carefully, digesting it like a huge piece of really chewy meat. Right, he thought, don’t panic. Just don’t panic. Just nod, slowly, nod, look like you’re thinking about it and don’t say anything.

  ‘So – what do you think? I mean, I’m sick of living out of a bag. And we wouldn’t have to make such an effort to see each other. We’d just sort of, be there. It would make life much easier…’

  Tony nodded slowly again, resisting the temptation to fling open the door and throw himself bodily from his moving car. ‘Hmm,’ he managed to mumble, ‘let me think about it.’

  Ness smiled at him and squeezed his thigh. ‘You think about it. You take your time.’

  Tony smiled grimly and wished that he was dead.

  Passing the Baton

  Ned folded Monica’s hair into a brown envelope and sealed it shut. Then he pulled off a sheet of Mum’s posh letter paper and wrote the following message:

  Monday 30 April

  Dear Mr and Mrs Riley,

  Hi – this is Ned here, Monica’s boyfriend. Well, ex-boyfriend, to be more accurate. Things didn’t really work out for me and Mon, unfortunately. As you know, Monica had a lot of problems adjusting to life in Australia and well, life generally, really, and it took its toll on our relationship. So I ended our relationship a few weeks ago and came home to England. I still feel really guilty and really bad. Monica’s an unstable person and I’m really worried about her. She hasn’t got much of a support network in Oz – she’s got friends, but no one who’s really prepared to take her on wholeheartedly and she can be a bit of a handful, as you know.

  But now I’m even more worried. Ever since I got home Mon’s been sending me parcels. Really strange parcels. Her hair, her eyebrows, other (non-fleshy) bits of her body. And plaguing me with unbelievably crude text messages. It doesn’t seem to be stopping and even though part of me really wants to phone her and talk to her and try and sort this out, I know that that will just make things worse. She’s really dependent on me and me phoning her will just be giving her a fix of what she craves – my attention.

  So, I thought maybe it would be better if you dealt with it. She really respects both of you, I know that and it would give her a real shock if she knew that you were aware of the way she’s been behaving. To be honest, I still think the best thing for her would be for her to come home, spend a bit of time back at home with her family.

  Anyway. You don’t need me to tell you what to do. She’s your daughter and your responsibility. You’ll do the right thing.

  I really hope everything works out for Monica. She’s a g
reat girl and I love her very much.

  I’ve enclosed her hair. I thought it would be better off with you than sitting under my bed.

  Yours,

  Ned London

  Ned folded the letter into an envelope and slipped it in a Jiffy bag with the hair. He sealed the Jiffy bag and slipped it into his rucksack. And then he put on his jacket, left the house and dropped the envelope in the first letterbox he passed. He breathed a sigh of relief as the envelope dropped through the dark hole and into the blackness below.

  She was gone.

  Mon was gone. She and her anger and her neuroses and her paranoia belonged to somebody else now. To the people who’d created her. And, for the first time since he’d set eyes on her in Leicester Square all those years ago, Ned was free.

  He swung his rucksack back on to his shoulder and headed for the number 68 bus stop. There was more than a hint of a spring in his step as he walked. He felt unburdened. He felt euphoric.

  He was heading into town, to an appointment with a recruitment agency that Tony had recommended. He was heading towards his bright, new, Monica-free future. It was time to get his life back on track.

  Typing Tests and Origami

  ‘So,’ said the girl in the ruffly, low-cut blouse, who was called Emma and looked roughly thirteen years old, ‘tell me about your experiences.’

  Ned shuffled in his seat. Experiences. Well, he thought, that could mean a lot of things. I could, for example, tell you about my night out on Friday with a bunch of fortysomething rockabillies when I got so pissed that I fell out of the back of a Robin Reliant and landed in a pile of horse shit.

  Or I could tell you about living with a chain-smoking, phlegm-producing, tattooed stranger who can see my innermost fears and feels like the only person in the whole world who really understands me.