Those Faraday Girls

by Monica McInerney

  Maggie offered to come in and collect it rather than have him post it on. When she came in the next day Gabriel had gone. Dora was back behind the desk.

  ‘The gods were shining the day you walked in to see me, Ms Maggie,’ Dora said, already flicking through her client lists. ‘From now on you’re getting all my difficult clients.’

  She was true to her word. For the past three weeks Maggie had been visiting a terrifying woman called Dolly Leeson.

  Dora had briefed her beforehand. ‘I have to warn you, this is a tough assignment. This one’s worked her way through everyone on my books. Stand up to her; she likes that. And let me know how you get on.’

  Maggie visited Dolly for the first time the next day. ‘Tough assignment’ was an understatement. Maggie walked out of Dolly’s Garment District apartment feeling like she’d spent an hour in a tumble dryer. Dolly was in her mid-seventies, overweight and opinionated. Her apartment was in chaos, with books and newspapers spread over every surface. There were paintings on each wall, an odd mixture of delicate landscapes and kitsch ones of crying clowns and dogs playing pool. There was an oxygen tank on a trolley in one corner. Dora had alerted Maggie to that. ‘She’s supposed to be on it for six hours a day. If you hear her wheezing, remind her, would you? She does need it. She’s in terrible health. It’s her temper that keeps her alive, I’m sure of it.’ Dolly hadn’t been wheezing that day. She’d been complaining. She started the moment Maggie arrived until the hour was up. Her targets included the state of the world, the state of the Union, global warming and zips that stuck. She insulted Maggie in between, picking on her clothes, her accent and the fact she was in New York. Maggie expected her hair to be blown back by the sheer force of the invective.

  Her next visit was no better. Dolly answered the door, grunted at her, let her in, then continued doing her crossword. Maggie asked several questions and received no answer. The phone rang twice. Dolly ignored it. When Maggie asked if she wanted her to answer it, Dolly ignored her too. Maggie waited patiently until her hour was up, said thank you and left. The last thing Maggie heard as she left the apartment was Dolly shouting, ‘And don’t come back. You’re fired.’

  Maggie rang Dora as soon as she got home. She was too late. Dolly had already rung the Rent-a-Grandchild office to complain about her.

  ‘Complain about what? I barely said a word while I was there.’

  ‘That’s what she was complaining about. I told you she’s a toughie,’ Dora said, unperturbed. ‘It’s just her way.’

  The third visit Dolly didn’t let her in at all. Maggie stayed outside the door for half an hour trying to persuade her, until Dolly eventually opened it, keeping the security chain on, shouting at her in a cloud of whiskey and canned tuna breath that if she had wanted to see her she would have opened the door. ‘Can’t you take a hint, you silly jug-eared girl? Leave me alone.’

  ‘But you signed up to the agency. I’m only here because you asked for someone to visit you. Are you sure you don’t want me to come back?’

  ‘Today, no. Next week, come back. We’ll see how I feel then.’

  Maggie was at the end of the corridor when Dolly called her back. ‘I’ve changed my mind. See you tomorrow.’

  ‘This is about Dolly, isn’t it?’ Maggie said to Gabriel on the phone now. She’d been expecting the call. She’d been to see Dolly that morning and it hadn’t gone well.

  ‘She’s just left a message complaining about you. Quite a long message, in fact.’

  ‘Oh dear.’

  He laughed. ‘Can you tell me what happened?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Dolly said you wouldn’t do what you were told. She said you were —’ he paused, as if he was checking some notes, ‘“insolent, inarticulate, insubordinate and indolent”.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Maggie agreed. ‘She also called me feckless, foolhardy, frivolous and fey.’

  ‘Fey?’

  Maggie decided this wasn’t the time to tell him that Dolly had said Maggie’s ears were creepy and made her feel sick. ‘You’re like something from The Hobbit,’ is how she’d put it. Maggie had needed to turn away so Dolly wouldn’t see her laughing.

  ‘She likes alphabetical insults,’ Maggie explained. ‘It’s from reading the dictionary for all the crosswords she does, I think.’

  ‘You might want to keep her away from the “f” pages, then,’ Gabriel said. ‘She also said she begged you to help her with something and you refused.’

  ‘I had to.’ Maggie needed to explain. ‘I love doing this job, Gabriel, I promise. Your mother would tell you that. I’m happy to sweep rooms, clean birdcages, empty trays of kitty litter if I have to. But Dolly is a law unto herself.’

  ‘Can you tell me exactly what she wanted you to do? For the purposes of correct reportage, of course.’

  ‘She wanted me to get drunk on whiskey with her and then make an obscene phone call on her behalf to her nephew, because she thinks he is after the contents of her bank account.’

  ‘And you wouldn’t?’ The smile was back in his voice again. ‘Maggie, where’s your sense of fun? What about her cigarettes? Didn’t she ask you to get her some of those as well? Tell you there’s nothing like a cigarette with a fine, full glass of whiskey?’

  ‘How do you know about the cigarettes?’ Dolly had asked her to buy two packets, one for each of them. This was despite the fact Maggie didn’t smoke and Dolly had an increasing need for the oxygen machine.

  ‘She used to ask me to do the same thing.’

  ‘You were Dolly’s Rent-a-Grandchild too?’

  ‘For six months. When I first moved back to New York.’

  ‘How did you last it?’

  ‘I took up smoking. I learned a lot of swear words. I developed a taste for whiskey. We had a ball together. The only drawback is I’ve been in rehab ever since.’

  ‘Can I please have another one like Lily?’

  He laughed. ‘No, you’re stuck. Much as I’d love to let you off the hook, I can’t get anyone else to call on Dolly. Except you.’

  ‘But she really fired me this time.’

  ‘She did, yes. But I told her she has to have you; that we’ve got no one else on our books who can cover her area.’

  ‘What did she say?’

  ‘She swore – from the “b” page in the dictionary. She also told me I must really be scraping the bottom of the barrel.’

  Maggie laughed. He did a very good impersonation of Dolly. ‘But you defended me?’

  ‘Of course I did. I told her you were a living angel. I also told her that if she didn’t watch herself, you’d show her the sharp side of your hitherto sweet tongue the next time you visited. She said she’d quite like to see that. So the scene is set, really.’

  ‘Thanks, Gabriel.’

  ‘Thanks? For sending you back into Dolly’s jaws? You’re not being sarcastic, sardonic and supercilious when you say that, are you?’

  ‘No. I’m being grateful, gullible and gormless.’

  He was laughing as he hung up.

  Maggie decided to visit Dolly the next day. It was a ten-minute ride on the subway and a five-minute walk to her apartment. One of the many good things about joining up with Rent-a-Grandchild was that she’d had to find her way around the city. She found it surprisingly simple, in seventh heaven with all the numbered streets further uptown. It appealed to the orderly number-counter inside her.

  Maggie got off at 34th Street, stopping en route to buy a bottle of water. It was another bright, blue-skied day, with the temperature forecast for the high nineties. She was already hot and sticky, despite the fact she was wearing her lightest cotton dress. The sunlight was reflecting off the windows of the skyscrapers, and the air was filled with exhaust fumes from the constant traffic, not to mention the jostling and hustling against the crowds of people on the sidewalks. She promised herself a long, cool shower as soon as she got home.

  Dolly’s apartment was on the fifth floor. There was a lift, but it
was cramped and a little smelly. Maggie preferred to take the five flights of stairs. She walked down the hallway and knocked at Dolly’s door. After several minutes she heard a shuffling of feet, a latch being unlocked, and then the door opened, the security chain firmly in place. Dolly peered out. Her hair was in curlers. She was wearing an orange housecoat. She didn’t look happy.

  ‘You again.’

  ‘I’m afraid so.’

  ‘That Gabriel or Gloria or whatever his name is warned me you were coming back. As I said to him, talk about sending me the scrapings from the bottom of the barrel.’

  Maggie was too hot to be polite. ‘I know. I said the same thing to Gabriel about having to visit you.’

  To her surprise, Dolly gave a roar of laughter. ‘At last. A bit of spark. About time, too. Your choirgirl act was really getting on my goat. So, are you coming in or going out? Don’t stand there all day.’ Dolly turned and shuffled back into the room.

  Maggie followed. She looked around the apartment. It was only a day since she’d been there and every surface was already covered in newspapers and magazines. She suspected Dolly had just spread them all out. ‘Would you like me to tidy this up a bit for you?’

  Dolly glared at her for a moment and then agreed. As Maggie began, Dolly watched her closely.

  ‘If you’re going to hang around, you may as well answer a few questions.’

  ‘Ask away,’ Maggie said.

  ‘What’s that accent of yours? What do you do? And why are you in New York?’

  Maggie blinked.

  ‘Don’t have much to say for yourself, do you? That’s the problem with young people these days, so self-absorbed they don’t know how to conduct a conversation.’

  ‘I would if you let me get a word in occasionally.’

  Dolly clapped her hands. ‘Alleluia, a bit more spirit. So what are you, then? When you’re not being a do-gooder harassing old ladies like me?’

  ‘I’m a mathematician.’

  ‘A maths teacher?’

  ‘No, a mathematician. I work with numbers, in big companies.’

  ‘You’re an accountant, you mean? Why didn’t you just say that? So where are you working now?’

  ‘I’m not working at the moment. I’m on a career break.’

  ‘How can you be on a career break? You don’t look old enough to have a career, let alone have a break from it. How old are you? Fifteen?’

  ‘Twenty-six.’

  Dolly made a scoffing noise. ‘Liar. So what was your last job? Why did you leave it?’

  Maggie busied herself with the last of the newspapers. She noticed a pile of washing in the corner. It looked clean. ‘Can I fold up these clothes for you?’

  ‘Hit a sore point, did I? Did you get fired, is that it? Where was it? Here? Or in Tanzania or Transylvania or wherever it is Dora said you were from?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Dolly, but I don’t like to talk about my personal life.’

  Dolly was grinning now. ‘You’re trying your best to be mild-mannered, but you’ve a temper. I can see it. I like that in a person. I’m starting to like you, as it happens. So what happened in the job? Did you cook the books? Sleep with the boss?’

  ‘I’d really rather not talk about it.’

  Dolly reached over and picked up the Rent-a-Grandchild leaflet and read from the front page. ‘“Company and conversation in your own home.” I’m going to sue that Genevieve and his mother for false advertising. I’ve had better conversations with that cushion over there.’

  Maggie was starting to enjoy herself. ‘His name is Gabriel, Dolly, and you know it. He told me he used to visit you.’

  ‘He did. He was as disobedient as you. At least he would chat to me, though. About politics, mostly, but that was better than nothing. I can’t even get you to do that. I think I’ll fire you again.’

  Maggie gave up any pretence of tidying.

  Dolly continued. ‘Then I’ll hire you again. A woman my age has to make her own fun. And I like the way you keep coming back. It shows great strength of character. So what happened at your work? When I asked you, your whole expression changed. You’re trying to hide something, but I think you also want to talk about it.’

  Maggie sat on the edge of an armchair. She had no choice, the seat was piled high with crossword puzzle books. ‘Did you used to be a psychologist?’

  ‘Of course not. Think I’d be living in this squalor if I was? So what happened in your job? No, don’t tell me, let me try and guess.’

  ‘I’ll just tell you.’

  ‘No, no, I want to guess. Humour me, I’m an old lady.’

  ‘I don’t want you to guess. I’m happy to tell you. Not happy. I want to tell you.’

  ‘Go on, then. All the details please. Make it juicy.’

  Maggie told it as it had happened. As she spoke, all the details returned in her mind. The look of the London conference room, the rows of seats, the noise from the whispered conversations between the two hundred people present. The tiny squeal from the microphone as she stood up to present her report.

  She had Dolly’s full attention. ‘I’d just announced our trading figures for the year, and explained to all the shareholders that the dip in profits meant the closure of one of our area offices. And then —’ Maggie paused.

  ‘Go on,’ Dolly said.

  Maggie had ignored the man at first. Thought he was going out to the bathroom, or to make or take a phone call. She kept talking, as slide after slide of spreadsheets appeared on the big screen behind her. She was looking down, reading off her notes when she heard a ripple of something, conversations, confusion from the audience. She looked up and the man was standing less than three metres away from her. She recognised him from the morning tea break. He was right in front of her now, his hands shaking.

  Dolly was waiting. ‘Come on, then.’

  Maggie swallowed. ‘A man, one of our employees, came up to where I was standing at the microphone, took a gun out of a bag beside him and shot himself in the head.’

  ‘Shot himself dead?’

  ‘That was his intention. The police found a suicide note later. But he survived. The bullet passed through his skull, into the left side of his brain and lodged there. He’s been in a coma ever since. He’s got a wife, two young children. The doctors said it’s doubtful he’ll ever recover. If he does gain consciousness, he’ll have severe brain damage.’

  ‘How awful.’

  ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘I bet he’s annoyed. Goes to all that trouble and it doesn’t work.’

  ‘Dolly!’

  ‘I can see how it would upset you, but why did it make you resign?’

  ‘Because it was my fault. I was the one who made the decision to shut his office.’

  ‘So you were doing your job? And this man reacted in this extreme way. So you decide to react almost as extremely?’

  ‘I had to leave the job. And I had to leave London. How could I stay there after something like that had happened?’

  ‘Are you always this prone to melodrama?’

  Maggie fought to keep her temper. She regretted telling her any of it. ‘I shouldn’t have told you.’

  ‘Don’t get snippy just because I’m not showering you with sympathy. Did you hate your job anyway? Was this just a handy excuse to leave it?’

  ‘I loved my job. You’re twisting my words.’

  ‘You didn’t want to be in London anyway, did you?’

  Maggie was silent for a long moment. Something about the directness of Dolly’s gaze made her tell the truth. ‘No. Things hadn’t been going well for me.’

  ‘Outside of work, you mean? Boyfriend trouble?’

  Maggie nodded.

  ‘What was his name?’

  Maggie told her.

  ‘Scottish, was he? From Glasgow or Edinburgh?’

  ‘Edinburgh. You do a very good Scottish accent.’

  ‘I do a very good any accent. That’s what I used to be, a voice coach on Broadway. So what happened wi
th Angus?’

  Maggie explained about walking in and discovering Angus and Lauren. Dolly laughed.

  ‘It wasn’t funny, Dolly.’

  ‘Of course it was. It’s always funny to see people at it. The beast with two backs, as Shakespeare called it.’

  Dolly was right, Maggie admitted. It had looked comical. She started to smile.

  Dolly looked pleased. ‘So what did you do then?’

  Maggie told her. Dolly especially liked the fact she’d thrown water at the pair of them. ‘Like people do with mating dogs?’ She started to wheeze she was laughing so much. Maggie fetched the oxygen and stood beside her as Dolly breathed deeply for nearly a minute.

  Dolly took another breath and then gave Maggie a long look. ‘An attempted suicide in front of you and an unfaithful boyfriend in your own home. I wonder what the next bad thing will be for you. Bad things come in threes, you know.’

  ‘I know,’ Maggie said. She knew every saying there was about numbers. She and Leo had been collecting them for years. One in a million. Two’s company, three’s a crowd. Seventh heaven. A stitch in time saves nine. At sixes and sevens.

  ‘So is that why you’re here? You’re on the run?’

  ‘I’m not on the run. I’m taking a break.’ Assessing her options. Reviewing her life.

  ‘And picking on charity cases like me.’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘You’re not doing a very good job. Where’s my cup of tea? And make one for yourself while you’re at it, would you?’

  Maggie prepared a tea tray, using surprisingly clean and delicate teacups and a teapot she found in one of the cupboards. She sat opposite her. Dolly barely took a sip (‘Ugh, disgusting’) before she started firing more questions. She wanted to know about Maggie’s upbringing. About her family. ‘If you’re going to be annoying me twice a week with these ridiculous visits, I want to know who the hell you are.’

  Maggie answered every one, to her own surprise. She was like a person just out of solitary confinement, desperate to talk. She told Dolly about her mother, her absent father, about all four of her aunts, even about Sadie the hippy who had run away. She told her about Leo and his inventions. She showed Dolly the family snapshot she always carried with her, the one taken at the airport the day she flew out to London, with everyone – everyone except Sadie, at least – there to see her off. She told her about the house in Donegal, about the July Christmases. How she had decided not to go to the July Christmas this year.