Flying Under Bridges

by Sandi Toksvig

  At last Mother settled herself for her meal. She carefully wiped her mouth with her napkin. She was the only woman Eve knew who did that before she started eating. Adam already had a spoonful of starter halfway to his mouth when Mother intoned, ‘For what we are about to receive may the Lord make us truly thankful.’ There was an embarrassed and English wave of muttered ‘Amens’ from most of the table, but a rather firm response from John. Eve made a mental note to check his car. Probably had one of those silver I’m-a-Christian-so-don’t-road-rage-me fish on the back of it. The family picked up their spoons to begin.

  Mother carried the conversation baton. ‘So, Mr Antrobus, how lovely of you to come here on this sad business.

  ‘Please call me John.’ John smiled at Shirley who smiled back. ‘You all seem to be coping very well.’

  Mother nodded, thrilled with her own fortitude. ‘The strength of a good family.’

  ‘Indeed. Nothing like it.’

  ‘Nothing at all,’ muttered Martha.

  Mother ignored her youngest daughter and wiped a small tear that threatened in her right eye. ‘Also I think we feel that Derek is still watching over us.’ She smiled bravely at Father’s portrait and his beloveds munched on.

  ‘You’re new to Edenford?’ asked William.

  ‘Yes, yes. Lovely town.’

  ‘And what does Mrs Antrobus do?’ probed Pe Pe, smiling.

  John looked confused. ‘My mother?’

  Pe Pe gave a little pleased chuckle. ‘No, I meant your wife, but I take it you’re not married?’

  ‘No, but I’m in the market.’ John glanced at Shirley who looked down at her plate. He didn’t glance at Eve. She knew why. Eligible young man. Attractive young man, but her pheromones screamed double gusset, closed access. It would be nice to be in love again. Just once more. To be that excited. That special.

  Mother picked at her food with extreme care. It wasn’t that she had inspirational hopes for the starter. Even she seemed to know that God wouldn’t stoop to a message in a melon ball.

  No, in the last year Mrs Cameron had developed a new relationship with her digestive system. It had become very precious. Food had become something to follow as it made its way through the system and then wait for anxiously until its reappearance at the other end. She was obsessed with the idea of being regular. Consequently she had become thinner and thinner. She was a shadow of her former self but even then only in very bright sunlight. There was very little of her left for the Lord to love.

  Adam, however, wolfed his starter. ‘Hogart, Hoddle and Hooper? Didn’t you just have some trouble in the office?’

  Eve wanted to kick him. ‘Don’t start, Adam.’

  ‘Something about a woman getting pregnant.

  Mr Antrobus nodded. ‘Tricky. Good solicitor, but she wasn’t married. She had no one to take care of the baby.’

  Martha decided to take an interest like a cat might open an eye to a three-legged mouse. ‘Are you not in favour of women working, Mr Antrobus?’

  John blushed. ‘It was playing havoc with the office.’

  Adam sucked in some air disapprovingly. ‘Chinese father, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Yes, I believe so.’

  ‘Adam!’ Eve warned, but he was all innocence.

  ‘What? I like Chinese people. I’m always very polite to Mr Wong/Fong, whatever, when I collect the takeaway. I just don’t want to eat the bloody meal with him. What’s wrong with that?

  Maybe the woman should have thought about other options…’

  Adam trailed off.

  ‘Well, she couldn’t have an abortion,’ boomed Pe Pe, whose present pursuits made such an idea unthinkable.

  Mother nodded sympathetically. She didn’t really like the subject at the dinner table so she simply whispered, ‘It’s against God’s will. Now would anyone like to…?’ Change the subject, she was probably going to say but William had the facts at his fingertips.

  ‘Did you know there are over one and a half million abortions in the United States every year? I was reading a very disturbing report. It’s not all done by qualified surgeons, you know. No, quite often abortionists are literally the dregs of the medical profession who couldn’t make a go of it successfully in private practice. There was one state where a dermatologist opened an abortion chamber.’

  It was the sort of conversation that left nowhere for anyone else to go. Why was William reading such a thing? Why a dermatologist?

  ‘So, Mrs Hogart, Hoddle and Hooper, let me see — your skin is dry, you are a solicitor and you’re having a baby. I can cure all three with a simple abortion. I simply place this nozzle attachment on an ordinary vacuum cleaner and—’

  Mr Antrobus cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, we paid her off. Well, she couldn’t expect to carry on efficiently.’

  ‘Why not?’ Martha enquired. No one knew, so Adam moved on.

  ‘Well, Mr Antrobus—’

  ‘I want to know why not,’ persisted Martha.

  ‘Leave it, dear,’ instructed Mother. Martha clenched her jaw and fought back by lighting another cigarette.

  ‘John, please, call me John.’ Mr Antrobus smiled at Adam who smiled back.

  ‘John, of course. I do hope you’ll take an interest in local affairs.’ He looked around the table. ‘I trust you will all be helping me in the elections at the end of the year? We’ve got some very exciting platforms for the town.’ Adam was a local councillor. Eve couldn’t imagine what exciting platforms he could be thinking of. The last election had hinged on a heated campaign to stop people leaving dogs’ mess on the verges near the church. Eve’s husband crunched through a melon ball as he spoke. ‘I’ve got some very exciting ideas.

  ‘Adam did the notice board, you know,’ confided Mother. ‘The one on the Green. It was Adam’s idea.’

  Adam smiled modestly. ‘Simple idea, really. I thought let’s have a notice board on the Green for everyone in Edenford to keep in touch with council activities. I only wish it had been that simple. You see, I wanted something nice in oak to match the beams in the War Memorial Hall…’

  ‘Adam’s on the Heritage Committee.’ While Adam held court, Mother provided the subtitles.

  …. but the planning people decided we couldn’t have oak. It had to be something “fire retardant” and that obviously wouldn’t be oak, which is made of, well.., oak.’

  ‘Nightmare,’ prompted John.

  ‘Absolutely. I mean, I’d already ordered it and it cost two hundred pounds. Thankfully it was sorted with some fire retardant creosote or something. It did look nice.’

  ‘Apparently the smell will wear off.’ Not all Mother’s subtitles were helpful. Adam ignored her.

  ‘We had a bit of a ribbon cutting with the Green Committee when it was put up. Councillor Hodson made a speech, which was nice.’

  ‘Shame about the dog.’

  ‘Lillian!’ Adam was getting irritated, but he kept smiling for John’s benefit. ‘It was nothing. Really, the creosote was still just a trifle sticky and Mrs Hodson’s terrier got its back leg stuck to one of the posts while the junior school were playing something from the … what was it?’

  ‘Michael Jackson’s Thriller album.’ It was a sound Eve would never forget.

  ‘That’s it. Lovely arrangement for descant recorder.’ Adam adored that board. He kept walking past and patting it. It had had more contact from him than Eve had in years.

  ‘The vet says the dog will be fine …’ Adam swallowed and sucked on his teeth at the same time before finishing his sentence ‘…. any day now.’

  There was a pause as the table reached a dead end in this conversational bypass.

  ‘It’s so nice to have lunch with an ordinary family.’ Mr Antrobus smiled at the gathering. Mother smiled back.

  ‘Ordinary?’ laughed Adam. ‘I don’t know. Mother here nearly served the meal on skates!’

  Everyone laughed and in the mirth of the moment, Adam accidentally shot a melon ball across his plate and on to the floor. Moth
er blanched. Her precious carpet. She hadn’t thought to put a plastic sheet on the carpet. Adam stooped down to pick it up.

  ‘Sorry, Lillian. Effect of gravity, eh? Same thing happening to Eve’s body, isn’t it?’ He laughed at his own joke and Eve wanted to fly away there and then.

  Martha had had enough jollity. ‘You shouldn’t let him speak to you like that, Eve.’

  ‘Martha,’ managed Eve.

  ‘It’s a joke, for Christ’s sake,’ exploded Adam. ‘Sorry, Lillian, but I mean really.’

  William was getting impatient. ‘Look, I wonder if we shouldn’t get the will reading over with. I expect there will be matters to discuss.’

  ‘I doubt it, dear,’ said Mother.

  ‘Mother, this is important. I need to know where the business stands. If Pe Pe and I are going to have a baby—’

  Mother clapped her hands. ‘You’re going to have a baby!’

  ‘Well, not yet.’ Pe Pe explained. ‘You see, William is having a problem with his sperm and—’

  William went ballistic and threw down his napkin. Melon juice spun in the air, hovered and descended on the carpet. ‘There is no need to tell everyone.’

  ‘I’m sorry, darling, I only . .

  William headed for the garden to commune with his testosterone. Pe Pe smiled at us all and gave a slight sigh.

  ‘He’ll be fine. He has some issues but he’s dealing with them.

  Mother hated issues so she went to fetch several damp cloths and see to the main course, while Adam set about topping up glasses. He limped to the sideboard to fetch the near-empty bottle of Blue Nun. The mere mention of another man’s troubles in the trouser department had reminded him of his own brush with zipper death and he held his hand protectively across his nether parts. Shirley closed her eyes in quiet contemplation and Pe Pe played with a flower on her dress sheath. Perhaps she would write one of her books to help William. Seven Simple Solutions for Non-Swimming Sperm or How to be Happy with Fewer Sperm.

  There was a short silence until John said, ‘It’s to do with stress, you know.’

  Adam poured himself the last of the wine and smiled uncertainly. ‘What is?’

  ‘Men having trouble with their sperm. It’s a modern thing. Apparently it’s the stress men have to deal with today.’ John munched on his bread roll as if these were conversations the family had round the dinner table every day.

  ‘That’s what I was saying to Eve,’ declared Pe Pe, thrilled to have found an ally. She simpered at the guest, while the rest of the table tried to decide where to head next. ‘But what is the answer?’

  ‘Keep healthy,’ said John. Adam sucked in his stomach and nodded agreement, while John continued, ‘I think men have a duty to the next generation to look after themselves. I have regular checks on my sperm count as well as the usual cholesterol and blood pressure. That way when I do get married, the woman will know what she’s getting.’

  Adam thought about this. ‘Like selling a house with the survey done? Kind of insurance against things going wrong?’

  ‘Exactly.’

  No doubt everyone knew Pe Pe would go too far with this unsolicited information. ‘And how is your sperm?’ she enquired.

  ‘Oh perfect, thanks, just perfect.’ John smiled reassuringly round the table and everyone was terribly relaxed.

  Mother brought in the main course.

  ‘A little treat!’ she announced with a flourish. ‘Tiger prawns!’ She put down a large tray of creatures who had in their time swum rather better than William’s sperm. While he served, Adam picked up the conversational ball again.

  ‘Do you play golf, John?’

  ‘Well—’

  ‘You should, you know. Great game to help you get on. Great club here. Tricky to get in but I could have a word. Great bunch of lads. As a matter of fact, it’s on the cards that I might just be captain this year. I’m not saying it will happen but there has been talk, hasn’t there, Eve?’

  Eve couldn’t deny it. ‘Yes. There has.’

  ‘So I might be in a position to help you out.’ Adam ripped the shell off a large prawn before launching on. ‘What sort of music do you like, John? Personally, I think you have to go a long way to beat the Tigress of Tiger Bay.’

  To his credit John looked puzzled. ‘Sorry?’

  ‘Bassey! Shirley Bassey. You a fan? Well, who wouldn’t be? She’s sixty-one you know. You’re shocked, aren’t you? It’s hard to believe she’s even seen forty. That’s what comes from not letting yourself go.’ Eve was sure Adam looked straight at her. She knew that look. That look that said she hadn’t so much let herself go as driven her body to the quayside and waved it goodbye. Adam pulled the head off his prawn with some vigour and swanned off for five minutes on the relative merits of Gold finger against some more modern material.

  This was followed by a short treatise from Pe Pe who was about to embark on a series of seminars on how to achieve a more meaningful orgasm. ‘Isn’t that what we all want?’ she said. ‘To feel good about ourselves, to have good physical health, emotional fulfilment, gratifying sex and positive ageing.’

  Martha was not convinced. ‘Pe Pe, you sound like a bloody women’s magazine. What about our brains, our intellectual lives?’

  John was right there with Pe Pe. ‘I couldn’t bear not to be fit.’

  ‘I can see that,’ she replied, eyeing his thighs beside her. ‘Stay fit and you won’t be stressed. It’s the theme of my new book — it’s not stress but too little joy that’s killing people.’

  ‘Bollocks,’ said Martha, which was either her opinion or an attempt to get back to the subject of William’s sperm. Pe Pe smiled at her in her tolerant and loving way.

  ‘Martha, I know you are a very feeling person, but you should use your emotions as a biofeedback mechanism to stay in touch with the causes of your unhappiness.’

  That gave everyone something to think about.

  William came back to the table in time for pudding. It was trifle. No one really wanted any and there was at least half a bowl left when John started to read out the will.

  ‘It’s not very long,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll get coffee,’ said Mother.

  ‘No.’ John shook his head. ‘I think you’ll want to hear this,’ and he began to read. ‘I, Derek Cameron, being of sound mind and body, do hereby make this my last will and testament. To my son, William, I leave Cameron Builders and Decorators, all its assets and any goodwill remaining in the business.’

  William helped himself noisily to another prawn. It had been what he expected. John took a sip of water and read on.

  ‘To all three of my children, William, Eve and Martha, I leave everything else, including my house. To my wife, Lillian May Cameron, I leave nothing. I have given her everything I could. For forty-eight years she has had everything she wanted. I did everything she asked and now I am free. I was a good husband, a good father and I hated my life. With the money I leave them I ask my children to get on with their lives. Please don’t make the same mistake I did. Don’t sit and wait till it is too late. I did and I am sorry. I love you. Dad.’

  There could not have been greater shock at the table if a chapter of Genesis had appeared in the grapes and cheese.

  ‘The house?’ Mother managed, gripping her beloved and unblemished table.

  ‘Yes,’ nodded John. ‘I’m afraid everything was in your husband’s name.’

  ‘Well, of course, but….’

  John couldn’t have been nicer. He reached out and patted Mother gently on the hand. ‘As the children are fully grown I’m afraid there’s nothing. .

  Eve knew Mother would do something, she just didn’t know what. Everyone was looking at her when she sort of went rigid and her eyes glazed over. Then she fell forward into the pudding basin. It went everywhere. It is a terrible fact of life that when something really serious happens it often has its comic side. Mother had had a stroke. It was dreadful but as she fell she got a maraschino cherry up her nose. Eve thought s
he was dead and found herself wondering what she should do with the three olives she’d wrapped up so carefully. And Eve thought about her life. And her father smiled down at them all. In that moment both the father and the mother that Eve had always known disappeared from her life. Nothing seemed certain any more, and all the time John was watching.

  Chapter Seven

  9 January

  Holloway Prison for Women

  London

  My dear Inge,

  The Darkness

  And God said ‘Let there be light’; and there was light.

  And God saw that the light was good…

  (GENESIS 1.3)

  I am writing this at two o’clock in the morning. It’s not easy. It is dark at night in my cell. I’ve never slept in the dark before. I lie here and worry about stupid things. About whether they will let me have clean pants every day. I think a lack of clean pants is the one thing that would drive me to distraction if I were ever kept in difficult circumstances. Some of the women cry through the night. Maybe they’re crying for what they’ve done. Maybe they’re crying for what they’ve never done. I wish I had a candle. I love candlelight. It is amazing how the small glow of light from a candle can transform a place.

  How far that little candle throws his beams! So shines a good deed in a naughty world.

  Do you remember that? It’s funny. All that 0-level English and that’s the only bit that stayed in my head. I like the idea of the world being simply naughty. Not wicked or evil, just a bit of a tinker. Much more comforting than what’s actually going on. That’s what my Sunday supplement ads were — just a bit naughty. I didn’t start out to be wicked.

  Thank you so much for the picture of Shirley. She looks so thin, but I thought I saw a little smile. Was that a smile? I couldn’t tell because she had her hand up against the sun. The place looks lovely. I can see why you and Kate loved it so. Is that helping you too? I hope so.

  I battle on with trying to find the right words. Shirley gave me a revised standard version of the Bible some months ago. It has printed in the front that it was ‘translated from the original tongues’. It’s hard to know just what that means. How do you tell words that are inspired by God from those that aren’t? I mean, it can be the same words, grammar and everything as if it were written by humans. And if humans can make mistakes, which we can, then could somebody have been wrong about which are the holy words and what they mean? Of course, there are people who think they don’t make mistakes. The pope doesn’t. He’s not allowed to. He’s a man but his job makes him infallible. That must be nice. Like having one of those Home Highway Internet connections to God.