It Always Rains in November

by Richard Hoffman

  Carly smirked. Janice already knew her mum was on her way. She looked pissed off. Hopefully, she’d fuck off. They didn’t need her.

  “So I hear. She says her mum’s coming over and you’re all going to be one big happy family again. I needed to talk to you, but it doesn’t matter now.”

  She turned to go. Carl pushed past his daughter and caught up with his lover before she was out the drive.

  “It does matter, Jan, it matters a lot. Carly’s telling you stories.” Carl glared at his daughter.

  “Carly, you know this isn’t true. Can you give us some privacy and go to your room until your mum gets here?”

  “No, why should I? It’s my house too. Anyway, I’m watching Eastenders.”

  Carl sighed. “OK, Carly. Have your own way – as usual. Jan, I know it’s not fair but let’s go to the pub. Carly, text me when your mum gets here.”

  Carly watched them leave and then slammed the front door shut. There was a photo on the hall wall of her as a baby with her dad. The vibration caused the photo to fall unbroken, onto the carpet. Carly picked it up and spat on it. She tried to reach up and replace photo and phlegm, but wasn’t tall enough. She threw it hard, into the kitchen, onto the partly cracked lino floor. This time, the glass smashed. Carly walked back into the living room, lay down on the settee and watched the rest of Eastenders.

  * * *

  As soon as Carl and Janice were outside, walking down the street, it started spitting.

  “Great, just washed my hair, and it’s started raining.”

  Janice raised an eyebrow.

  “Why are you so worried, Carl? You haven’t got much anyway. I’m going to suffer more than you.”

  “I have plenty of hair, and I’m not going bald,” Carl replied indignantly. “I have it cut short, that’s all.”

  “You should’ve bought an umbrella. It always rains in November. You need to be prepared.”

  Carl touched his hair. “You don’t really think I’m going bald, do you?”

  Janice ignored the question.

  “Where’s this pub? I’ve got heels on,” she grumbled.

  “They aren’t big heels. M...” He stopped, definitely not good form to compare ex-wife with new girlfriend, even it was about size of shoe heels.

  They arrived at the Mitre. It was dark out and Janice couldn’t form an opinion of its ambience until she stepped inside. Looking round in abhorrence, Janice did not appreciate her new boyfriend bringing her to a second pub where the walls were dirty, the carpet was well overdue a replacement and the stools and tables needed a dustbuster to work overtime.

  “I can see you’re not impressed,” Carl apologised. “I’m sorry, it’s just local. We can go back and kick Carly upstairs.”

  Janice gazed at the stuffed bream hanging from the ceiling.

  “Rock and hard place come to mind. This makes the Surrey Arms look like an upmarket wine bar.” She spoke with an air of resignation. “We’re here now and it’s better than your daughter laying into me.”

  “I’m sorry about her. Let’s get a drink. They do Real Ale.”

  “Oh, do they? Great, I’ll have a pint of Ruddles Best then.”

  “Yeah, you want a pint of Rud...?”

  “No, you daft thing. I’m joking. I’ll have a white wine spritzer and a hoover to clean the place before I sit down.”

  Janice used her hand to wipe the dust off a stool at a small round table for two, moved the half drunk glasses to a window ledge and used a tissue to wipe the table. Then she went to the ladies’ toilet and washed her hands. The landlord watched her as he served Carl.

  “That your new bird, Carl?”

  “Just started going out with her.”

  “I think she’s got that OCD. She can’t stop cleaning.”

  “OCD?”

  “Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, mate, my ex-wife had it. Always cleaning up after me.”

  “Could’ve been because...” Another unfinished sentence. Carl wanted the Mitre to stay as his local.

  Janice returned from the toilet at the same time that Carl returned with the drinks. Once sat down, Janice told him about the afternoon disasters with the local paper and the Education Authorities. In turn, Carl talked about the pay review and how he had wanted to kill Martin Miller. She squeezed his hand as he related his work tale and he reciprocated by putting his arm round her. Soon, Tuesday was becoming a better day as for one brief moment, all their troubles disappeared through the warm affection of a lingering snog.

  The landlord was not a romantic, possibly bitter as a result of being celibate (prostitute visits excepting) for ten years. Fifty three year old, five foot six inch, eighteen stone misogynists are not good boyfriend material.

  “Oi, you two,” he bellowed, “this is a bleedin’ pub, not a knockin’ shop. Carl, there’s a Park down the road for doing that. Not in my gaff.”

  They stopped kissing, neither of them looking towards the bar. Before either had a chance to speak, Carl’s mobile bleeped a text message.

  “Mum’s home. Get back here now – without the fat slag!”

  Carl sighed “Come on, Janice, let’s go.”

  Romance was not quite dead, but it had taken an extended break.

  * * *

  Marie had driven to the house but sped past on seeing Carl and Janice leave together. She waited until they’d walked down the street.

  This time, Carly was happy to see the visitor at her front door.

  “Hi, Mum. Come in.”

  They went in to the kitchen. Marie looked around at the home she’d once lived in.

  The living room carpet was decorated with leftover food and the kitchen lino that they had chosen ten years ago, was in need of an overhaul. A smashed photo frame lay on the kitchen floor.

  “Place is a state, Carly. Doesn’t your dad clean?”

  Her daughter shrugged her shoulders. “Dunno. Sometimes. When he’s home.”

  Marie found a dustpan and brush in the same cupboard she had kept it in six years ago, and swept up the damaged photo frame. She picked out the actual photo, without looking at it, and handed it to Carly, disposing of the rest in the kitchen bin. Carly tore up the photo and placed it in the same bin.

  “Your dad’s out isn’t he?” Marie asked, replacing the dustpan and brush.

  “Out with her! The fat slapper.”

  “That’s not nice, Carly,” but Marie was smiling as she mildly admonished her daughter.

  “She’s like, ‘I want to see your Dad’ and I was, like, ‘my mum’s coming round and they’ll be getting back together’.”

  Marie put her arm round her daughter and spoke quietly. “Carly you do know that’s never going to happen, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I suppose so.”

  They assisted each other in making two cups of coffee and took them into the living room. Marie turned the TV off. The widescreen, plasma, HD, Blu ray TV was the only piece of furniture that Marie did not recognise from her tenure. They both sat on the three-seater settee.

  Marie was keen to shift the conversation towards Carly and her dad’s relationship and was conscious of the possibility of Carl interrupting them, before she had a chance to discuss incest with her daughter. She took a deep breath.

  “Anyway, love, never mind her, I came round to discuss you and your dad. How well do you get along with each other?”

  “Like, terrible, same as ever, why do you ask?”

  Marie moved closer to her daughter and took her hand.

  “Mr Philips at school showed me the essay that you wrote. You wanted us back together and you wrote some weird stuff.”

  “Weird stuff? That’s me being crap at English, Mum.”

  “No, it’s not that. You wrote that ‘It will be Dad and Mum sleeping in Dad’s bedroom together again’ and it reads as if someone else has been sleeping in Dad’s bedroom with him.”

  “Someone has. Janice, the fat…”

 
; “Not her – you wrote the essay before they started going out. And he’s had nobody before her. So, I was wondering whether he… whether you…”

  Carly let go of her Mum’s hand and pigeoned in horror.

  “You think … like, me and…me and Dad! That is sick, Mum. That’s nasty. No way. Let’s ask him, I’ll text him and get him back here.”

  “No, don’t. He’s with Janice. I don’t want to have a scene in front of her. It’s not fair on anyone.”

  Carly narrowed her eyes and picked up her mobile.

  “OK, Mum, I’ll be like, really tactful. I won’t embarrass you or him.”

  * * *

  Janice decided against revisiting the teenager inspired war zone. After they walked back, Carl drove her home before facing his daughter and ex-wife.

  As soon as he walked in the living room, he was besieged by Carly.

  “Dad, Mum says you’re a pervert.”

  Carl recoiled in terror.

  “What?!”

  “I don’t think you’re a pervert, Carl,” Marie corrected. “It’s the essay that Carly wrote at school, where she says “It will be Dad and Mum sleeping in Dad’s bedroom...”and then goes on about you being a proper Dad.

  Carl turned white with rage. “You bitch! Is this because I’m with someone else? You turn up accusing me of being a kiddie fiddler. Get out of my house!”

  Marie was determined to stay calm. She remained sat on the settee while Carl stood over her and if his close proximity was an attempt to intimidate, he was failing. On the other hand, she couldn’t blame Carl for this reaction and attempted to defuse the hostility.

  “No, I swear. I’m happy for you and Janice. Give me a bit more credit than that Carl. Like I said, it’s this essay. It doesn’t make sense.”

  Marie predicted that Carl would accept her rational argument and calm down, if he was convinced that she was not launching a personal attack. She was wrong.

  “I read the essay as well but she isn’t accusing me of anything. It’s an essay written by an unhappy girl – unhappiness that you caused when you walked out and left us both seven years ago. But I’m finally over you, and I hear that Gary has dumped you too. So take your poisonous mind and leave me and my daughter ....”

  “Get it...”

  “Hello, you two. Can you not, like, talk about me as if I’m not here?”

  “...right, Carl. I left you and I’ve left Gary as well.”

  Carly beat the settee with her fists. “I wondered how long it would take for this to be all about you two. Not everything is about you!”

  Carl and Marie stopped jousting with each other and looked at Carly.

  “Love, I’m sorry.” Marie took Carly’s hand, which was quickly disengaged by her displeased daughter.

  “I’m sorry as well, love, you know you’re always the most important girl in my life.”

  “More than the f…more than Janice?”

  “Yes, but she’s a part of my life as well. You’ll have to get used to it.”

  For a few seconds, nobody spoke, Marie reassured that the relationship between her ex- husband and her daughter was not sordid and dirty.

  She went to the kitchen and after a few seconds heard the TV. Soon the three sat in the living room drinking coffee. Marie decided not to make any adverse remarks about the condition of the house, whilst Carly promised her Dad that she would try and behave better to Janice.

  The conversation then moved on to Carly’s birthday. She wanted a new wireless laptop which Marie had – unbeknown to her – already bought – and a couple of CDs that her Dad told her he would buy.

  Marie left shortly after finishing her coffee. She gave Carly a kiss on the cheek and said goodbye to Carl. She went home that night satisfied that she had acquired the response that she had sought.

  As she drove to pick up Gemma, Marie realised she never posed a key question to Carly. Why had her 13 year old daughter written “It will be Dad and Mum sleeping in Dad’s bedroom together again”? It was such an unusual turn of phrase but nobody had yet asked Carly to explain the phraseology, and now, it appeared, nobody ever would. Marie concluded that she was over analysing. Carl was not a paedophile and Carly had denied any incest. It was right to put this matter to rest and move on. Marie had a number of more relevant concerns; leaving Gary, explaining to Gemma; finding a new home, oh yes, and, the audit at Crouts. Couldn’t forget work.

  * * *

  After Marie left, Carl and Carly sat watching TV, much as they had done for the last seven years. Carly was focused on the screen and Carl was similarly transfixed, both avoiding eye contact with the other.

  Eventually, Carl decided to part company with his armchair and go to bed.

  “Goodnight, Carly, and...er...thanks for tonight.”

  “Thanks, Dad? What are you thanking me for?”

  “Oh, nothing. It doesn’t matter.”

  “That’s right, Dad. It don’t matter. Nothing matters.”

  “Carly, I ....”

  “Goodnight, Dad.”

  As Carl walked upstairs he heard Carly mutter “fucking wanker” under her breath. He paused for a moment and then carried on to bed. After a few moments, he heard the TV volume increase as she switched over to a music channel and, although audible from his bedroom, he never went back downstairs to complain.

  Chapter 25

  Tuesday November 9th – Nathan on his ones

  Although he had laughed about the farce of the afternoon’s failed plan initially, Nathan’s emotions soon darkened.

  He lay in a Radox bath, and considered the day. Jesus, the counsellor woman didn’t half make a big deal about a tap on the head. He wanted to salvage something with Faye, maybe give her a call. Fuck it, probably too late. Whilst in the bath he received a text from Faye dumping him. So he had gone from two girlfriends to none. Charlotte’s fault – she must have told Kim and Becky.

  The crew had agreed to meet round at Charlotte’s that night because her parents were going away. Nathan had been intending to be with either Faye or Kelly but instead he went alone. He would use the opportunity to sort out Charlotte for sticking her nose in his business and if she had some booze, he planned to get pissed and throw up over her parents’ furniture.

  Nathan finished the bath and smothered his body with Joop. Dressed in Nike clothes and matching trainers, he began the fifteen minute walk. The lab staff cross was patrolling the street, but Nathan decided to exercise the brave option and only crossed the road to avoid the diseased hound, as opposed to returning home and taking a different route, which he had on previous occasions. It was beginning to rain.

  When Nathan arrived at Charlotte’s, the door was open. Walking into the living room, he saw that Michael, Jamie, Billy, Duayne and Charlotte’s friend, Hannah, were already there. Hannah was overweight so Nathan wasn’t interested in her.

  Charlotte’s house was a similar size to his. Two bedroomed, Charlotte had shared until her older sister moved out last year. Now eighteen, she was seven months pregnant and living at her boyfriend’s parents. Nathan suspected that a similar fate would befall Michael and Charlotte.

  The lads were sat on the floor whilst Charlotte and Hannah were on the settee. The dimmer switch was turned down, and Nathan smelt weed. The girls were smoking, getting relaxed, a pity Hannah was such a dog.

  Michael got up to shake hands with Nathan.

  “Safe bruv,” was uttered by all and then Billy asked, “alright bruv, where’s Faye?”

  Before Nathan had time to respond, Mark came in. Although his dad had hit him and grounded him forever, after the firework arrest last week, his dad was on nights and his mum was a lot more relaxed, so he’d managed to escape.

  The group had only been able to filch a few cans from their various families, and it was Charlotte and Hannah who were smoking weed. Nathan was surprised that the others appeared to be unaware that he had split up with Faye and/or Kelly. Then he realised that there was n
o reason why they should know, if Charlotte had only told Kim and Becky.

  Mark repeated Billy’s question. “Where’s Faye?”

  Nathan forced a grin.

  “Dunno, bruv. She’s locked it with me.”

  Everybody stopped and turned to hear Nathan’s news. Almost in unison, they asked him why.

  “She decided it wasn’t working out. Fuck it, her loss.”

  Cue sympathetic responses.

  “Maybe you’ll sort it out.”

  “Plenty of others out there mate.”

  “Her loss, bwuv.”

  The sympathy votes were welcome but Nathan wanted to confront Charlotte. Seeing her leave the room, he decided to take refuge in the alluring lager cans instead. There wasn’t enough booze for all of the lads to get drunk but Nathan figured he deserved to get pissed. Besides, the others couldn’t get drunk on a Tuesday night. They had school the next morning. Nathan downed two cans of Tennents and had a swig of a bottle of cheap plonk and was giving a version of events to Michael.

  “I really liked her, y’know. She was buff. Y’know she was a virgin? I was gonna be the first in. She sent me a text yesterday to say she was off to buy condoms.”

  Michael frowned. “That don’t make sense – why did she lock it if she was going to do it with you?”

  “Dunno, bruv. That’s women, innit?”

  “What about Kelly – are you still seeing her?”

  “Don’t think so, Slack bruv, she’s a slag. I had her yesterday though. Four times. Frontwards, sideways and from the back. She’s a good fuck, but I’ve gashed and dashed on that one.”

  Shaking his head in disapproval, Michael tutted.

  “No sympathy, bruv, maybe Faye found out about Kel.”

  “Whatever, now I’m on my ones.”

  “At least you’re getting pissed with your boys tonight.”

  Nathan rubbed his crotch.

  “Yeah, I need a piss now though.”

  “It’s upstairs, first on the right.”

  Nathan tripped over the first stair but composed himself. He could take two cans and a swig of red wine. As he made his way up the stairs, he heard Charlotte on the phone in one of the bedrooms.