Losing It

by Jane Asher

  We hadn’t really ever properly discussed the terrible night I’d found him. By the time I’d calmed him down and dropped him off at the Chelsea and Westminster to have his head looked at (he refused to let me go in with him) we were simply making small talk. I could tell he didn’t want me to start questioning him, and I thought the priority was to get him thinking about other things – mundane, practical things that might take his mind off whatever awful thoughts had been besieging him in the cellar. The hospital said that his forehead was fine – simply superficial damage – but that he had to check with our GP, who sent him on to some kind of therapist, but Ben has consistently refused to be drawn on exactly what went on during the two sessions he had with him. Over a month since I’d found him, with the tiny scars on his forehead the only outward reminder of that horrible night, we still hadn’t talked about it, and, although he’d been considerably calmer and more his old self than I’d seen him since Charlie left, I’d been feeling guilty about not having tried harder to get through to him.

  ‘Come on, darling,’ I said. ‘I’m sure you’ll feel better if you can bring it out into the open, whatever it is – or was. We’ve all been very affected by Dad’s going, and I know you and Sally finding out about my – my addiction, or whatever we call it, hasn’t helped anything. Let me help you now though, darling – you always feel better when you talk to me about things, don’t you?’

  We were sitting either side of the kitchen table. I’d been making a real effort for a while to cook some decent meals and insist that the three of us sat down at the table to eat them: it had been only too easy, since Charlie left, to get into the habit of picking at things, or eating at separate times in front of the television. We were finishing off a spaghetti Bolognese – Sally was out at the pub with some friends – and Ben looked across at me and smiled slightly, before reaching over and taking my hand. ‘Sorry, Mum. I know I haven’t really talked much about it. But I’m OK – the therapy guy helped, and I’ve been talking to Holly, so I haven’t been bottling things up, I promise.’

  I tried not to feel jealous, and merely smiled encouragingly.

  ‘I’m not trying to make you talk about things you don’t want to, Ben. But there’s no one quite like your own family, you know; don’t shut us out too much. It’s amazing how much it helps just to let things out. I’ve been trying for years to end my ridiculous gambling habits, and I was always so terrified of any of you finding out. Now you have, it doesn’t seem so shameful, and the odd thing is that, because it’s no longer so shameful, it seems easier to stop. I’m really trying, you know. Maybe it’s the dark secret I needed, rather than the vice itself.’ I laughed a little, in an attempt to lighten the words which were sounding stupid even to myself. ‘You’ll probably find me indulging in something really outrageous next time! When Dad gets home tonight we’ll –’ I broke off and shook my head. ‘What am I thinking of? How silly. Sorry, darling. I – I just forgot for a moment.’

  There was a pause, then Ben said, very softly, ‘You really miss him, Mum, don’t you? Sally and I love him and miss him loads, of course – in spite of what he’s done – but I’m just beginning to realise how much you need him. You’ve always seemed so independent and capable – I suppose Sal and I took the two of you for granted. Your relationship. Now I look back it’s extraordinary how happy you both were in each other’s company – Sally was saying just that the other day. Isn’t there some way – do you think you might ever – I just can’t believe Dad’s going to go on like this always. I think he’s having some sort of middle-aged breakdown and that he’ll come out of it. Would you – do you think you could take him back if he ever –’

  ‘I don’t know, Ben. You’re right. I miss him all the time – more than I would ever have thought possible. There’s no one else – and I mean no one – I can talk to like I can to Dad. Because there’s not one single person who’s lived through the years that Dad and I had together. When we were first going out and on into our early married years – learning so much together, and then those years of you two growing up and of us loving you both so much: who else can ever understand that? Share in those memories and love you both in the way we do? All that private family language: the silly words and expressions. Who can I turn to when something reminds me of one of you, or of an argument from long ago, or a boring evening that we have a shorthand code for? I hate what he’s done and I thought I’d learn to hate him too. I keep trying to be strong and not react like the jealous, wronged woman – it seems so feeble to admit I want him to come back. But I don’t really hate him, Ben. If I’m honest, I almost feel sorry for him – it’s as if he’s in a strange state that isn’t really him. That’s what’s so surreal – he and I would have joked together about this kind of situation: the fat, stupid checkout girl and the man making a fool of himself over her, I mean – and now the one person I want to talk to about it is the problem himself. Unbelievable, it really is. Then there’s money, of course. I always handled that side of things, but at least I always knew he was there to back me up. Now I’m going to have to face it on my own at some point and sort out the future. Financially, I mean.’

  ‘Oh, Mum – you really shouldn’t think about that now. We’ll manage. I mean, we’re OK, aren’t we?’

  ‘It isn’t quite that simple, I’m afraid, darling. Our savings have – well, frankly, Ben, I’ve more or less gambled them away over the years, and I don’t know just how your father thinks he’s going to support himself and his – how shall I put it? His mistress? Is that a grown-up way of putting it? I’m sure you can imagine how I’d really like to describe her – anyway, there’s us to consider, isn’t there? My earnings aren’t that good. Certainly not enough to pay your school fees and support the three of us while Sally’s at Leeds. I’m going to have to sit down with him at some point and talk about it. If he thinks he’s going to persuade me to sell this house he can think again, I can tell you.’

  Ben looked rather shocked and it made me realise how sheltered they’d always been. Charlie and I used to think it was a good thing, the way we made them feel secure about money: now I wasn’t so sure.

  ‘But Dad earns loads, doesn’t he?’

  I smiled and shook my head.

  ‘I’d hardly have called it loads, at the best of times. But, however you describe it, it may not be for long, I suspect. I didn’t tell you about the letter I forwarded, did I? It was from the office, so I thought I ought to do something about it, rather than chuck it on that pile in the cellar like I have all the others. I was sure he hadn’t been turning up for work and I assumed it was about that – I’d been having calls from them asking where he was and so on – so I thought the letter ought to reach him, and I put “c/o the fat girl on the till” or something on the envelope and sent it to the supermarket.’

  ‘Mum, you didn’t! That’s pretty cool in fact,’ said Ben, and I could see he was tempted to laugh.

  ‘Now that’s exactly what I mean, you see – yes, it is funny. Don’t worry, I can see that. I don’t mind your laughing – not a bit. And Dad would have laughed too – a lot. It’s just the sort of little thing we’d find funny. That’s one of the things that makes me feel so very lonely, Ben – my best friend has disappeared, and changed into someone I don’t know any more.’

  Ben

  ‘I’m OK, Hol, I really am. I understand why they think I’m not, but what they don’t see is that I’m just operating on a different level. It’s like that children’s story about the ugly duckling – it’s only because he was different that he had a problem: if he’d been brought up among the swans then of course he’d have been accepted from the word go, in spite of being a revolting colour and all “scrubby” or whatever it was.’

  ‘Bit of an obvious analogy, Benbo, even for you.’

  ‘It may be obvious but it’s spot on. Not that I see myself as a swan – in fact, I know I’m more of a – a – what kind of creature grows up ungainly and unattractive as well as starting off like that?�
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  ‘You’re not unattractive, you know that perfectly well. You’re just fishing.’

  ‘No, I’m not – all right, not unattractive then, but certainly on a level with the ducks. I’m just saying – that – that I’m different, but not better.’

  ‘Salamander.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘How about a salamander? I’ve always thought they were rather interesting, but not particularly attractive – or unattractive. Just different.’

  ‘From ducks.’

  ‘Yeah. And from lots of other things.’

  ‘Absolutely. OK – well, I’m just a salamander, and if the ducks can see me like that and accept that, for instance, I don’t happen to have little webbed feet that paddle about in ponds, but use my – oh shit, what do salamanders use? Tails? Fins? Anyway, whatever, you get the point. It’s a question of accepting the differences and not trying to change.’

  ‘All very well, but your behaviour hasn’t been exactly salamander-like. We ducks get a bit upset when our fishy friends bash themselves to bits in the cause of difference.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I know. I was just trying something, that’s all.’

  Holly looked so worried when I said that that I wished I hadn’t. I wouldn’t really be able to explain to her what it was like, or what I’d been trying, so it was just opening up something complicated when there was no point.

  ‘Are you really upset, Ben? About him going? Your dad, I mean?’

  ‘Now who’s being obvious? No, I don’t think so. It isn’t only that. But it does make everything a bit more – meaningless, I suppose. They’re not fish, by the way.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Salamanders aren’t fish. They’re –’

  ‘I love you, Ben.’

  It was so amazing when she said that. It was like an electric shock went up my legs and zapped through my balls and right on up into my head. Quite scary, but fucking brilliant at the same time.

  ‘Say that again.’

  ‘Why, are you deaf or something? You heard. I don’t have to –’

  ‘No, really, Hol. I mean it. I have to see what happens. Say it again.’

  ‘I love you.’

  It happened again, exactly the same. So it wasn’t just the surprise of it – of her saying something so definite and so unexpected. It was much more than that. I wouldn’t have believed it possible if I hadn’t experienced it myself. I waited, staring at her, hoping she’d be forced to say it yet again by my silence. And she was.

  ‘I love you.’

  I laughed – it was so exciting and so wonderful what this was doing to me. ‘Fucking brilliant,’ I said at last, still laughing. ‘Fucking brilliant!’

  Stacey

  Charlie took me out to the Angus Steak House last week – I was so scared to go but it was absolutely wicked! I sat there and didn’t make a pig of myself – I just couldn’t believe it. Six weeks ago when I was still on the wrong side I’d have had two or three Cokes, a starter of something like onion rings or chicken pâté, loads of bread and butter all through the meal and a huge steak with baked potato (more lovely butter!) or chips (and sometimes I could get away with having both by making Denisha order them). And finally of course dessert. Usually chocolate cake or ice cream with butterscotch sauce. Last week I ordered just … a baked potato! That was it! Not even anything to drink except some water! I ate most of my potato with a tiny bit of Flora and had about two bites of Charlie’s rump steak. I felt so proud of myself, and best of all I felt full and satisfied. I’m really enjoying my little tiny tummy so far!

  I’m back at work now and I feel so different about everything. I’ve lost about 38 pounds so far and I’m four sizes smaller in trousers – it’s so exciting to go shopping but I’m trying to stop myself buying too many clothes ’cos I just know they’re going to be too big any minute now – fantastic!

  The girls at work have been brilliant. I was worried they’d all look at me funny ’cos I knew Warren would’ve told them about the surgery even though I only told Denisha and she promised not to tell the others. I thought they’d be whispering and that, the way they do, but they was OK. At first they didn’t say nothing, but I made a joke about it in my morning break ’cos they just couldn’t BELIEVE that I never had a chocolate biscuit or nothing with my coffee (in fact, now I never even have coffee with my coffee, if you get me, ’cos I just have one of them cartons of apple juice!!) I felt like them health freaks – it was really cool. I’ll be at the gym next! I might be, in fact, even though I was joking just then. I might go and have a look – Sheila says there’s lots of big girls go and it ain’t too bad for staring and that.

  I felt quite smiley once I was back on my checkout. It’s amazing knowing I’m shrinking while I’m sitting there; it’s good being back in the same old place ’cos I can feel the difference from when I was sat there just feeling depressed and wondering when I’d be able to put a sweetie in my mouth without Warren or daft Mrs Peters noticing. Today I was being all cheerful like, saying good morning to our customers and all. Some of them looked quite shocked ’cos I never used to say nothing. Made me laugh that.

  Mind you, Charlie’s looking a bit bleeding miserable these days. He says he don’t mind that they’ve sacked him, but it don’t seem right for a man like him to sit around with me mum all day just watching the telly and waiting for me to come home. Right weird, if you ask me. And I went out for a drink (water, if you don’t mind!) with the girls last night after work and he looked right grumpy when I come back. Said I shouldn’t waste money by going out spending after work! Fucking cheek. I’m the only one what’s earning, I said to him – if I want to buy a few drinks that’s my business. And if you must know, I said, it was Sheila what bought us all a drink to celebrate me losing over two stone so fast.

  I’ve decided I’m gonna let Charlie fuck me, in fact. I just get this feeling he thinks I owe him something (and I know I do, though he never said he was paying for my operation for me to pay him back something – he said over and over again that it was just ’cos he loved me and wanted me to be happy. Oh yeah?). And I don’t want to never be in someone’s debt, you see – it makes me feel right awkward when I think he’s waiting for me at home and all. If I let him have his end away then we’ll be all square, that’s my point. Fair’s fair. I’ll have to let him do it before Crystal comes over, ’cos she and her friend are going to stay in the house for a week or so and I think it’d be embarrassing to try and do it with Charlie while them two was asleep on the settee or whatever.

  I just can’t wait for her to come. Only two weeks to go now and she’ll be here on her visit with her new fella. I bet she’s gorgeous – and he is too! I wouldn’t never have been brave enough to do what I did without Crystal – and I ain’t never gonna forget it. She’s my real angel, that’s how I see it anyhow. I’m gonna give her a really brilliant time in London while she’s here. Dunno what she’ll think of Charlie, though, even though I’ve told her all about him in my letters. He’s a bit pompous for going out with – he can be a right wet blanket. I’ll have to tell him it’s a girls-only outing when I take her out, that’s what.

  Chipstead

  I must say, I continue to be amazed just how much Stacey has perked up since coming back. We’ve all noticed it. Her weight loss is quite obvious now, and she’s still smiling and even beginning to chat a little to the customers. You could knock me down with the proverbial. Whether it’s due simply to the controversial operation (my cousin saw an item about a similar procedure on Oprah and said she was by no means convinced it worked) or whether it’s due to the old boyfriend, who I note is still hanging around, it’s hard to say. There’s no doubt she’s got a bit of a sparkle in her eyes these days, and I noticed she came in this morning positively reeking of perfume and looking very flushed and pleased with herself.

  I wonder if they actually do it? I heard the girls discussing it in the canteen the other day and I pretended not to hear so I could discreetly listen (I see it as part
of my job to monitor the social wellbeing of my staff, and I considered this particular piece of managerial eavesdropping was justified in this instance). They were giggling like anything, in the facile way they do, but I have to own that some of it was quite funny – particularly when they were speculating about positioning: who would be ‘on top’ for instance. Sheila was hilarious about poor old Thornton getting squashed flat if Stacey ever took it into her head to take the upper hand, so to speak. I wonder.

  Charlie

  What a darling girl she is! She knew I was feeling blue and she gave herself to me at just the right time: she has an instinctive goodness and generosity that is quite overwhelming. I was getting so worried that she was losing interest in me, and now it’s clear that she loves me as much as I love her. What a lucky, lucky man I am. She’s adorable; glorious. We had nearly made love so many times that I hadn’t realised how much more it would mean to me to consummate our relationship in the fullest physical sense, and it was everything I could have dreamed of. It was a wonderful gesture of love and – and cherishing of me. In her own sweet way she’s made it quite clear that it doesn’t mean she’s going to allow me that divine pleasure all the time – she’s really quite moralistic, I think, underneath all her bad language and apparent vulgarity. I can see it meant something very special to her and not just a random act to be undertaken whenever one of us happens to feel like it. Never mind, I am content simply to be with her, sleep next to her and adore her. I only wish her pen friend wasn’t coming to stay – I hate having to share my darling with anyone.

  Judy

  I have to face the fact that he is probably never coming back.

  Stacey

  Bugger me. I’m gobsmacked. I really am. Gobsmacked. I was so excited this morning about Crystal coming that I just couldn’t wait for eleven o’clock. I didn’t go into work, ’cos I certainly didn’t want her met by Charlie at the door and Crystal having to sit and think of things to say to him until I got back, and even if I said I wanted Mum to be the one to look after them I know Charlie wouldn’t have allowed it – he don’t want to be left out of anything. Anything that’s to do with me, I mean. He’s been a bit better since the other night (it wasn’t too bad, in fact, although it was all over a bit quick) but he’s still too bleeding nosy and jealous about everything for my liking. And he has this stupid smirk on his face now when he looks at me since we done it – like we’re in on some special secret together or something. Look, mate, I feel like saying, you’ve had your payment, right? So don’t make a big thing out of it, ’cos it’s not like Brad and Jennifer or nothing – it was just a quick fuck ’cos I owed you. But I can’t do it to him, not right now, anyway, ’cos I feel kinda sorry for him at the same time.