Flying Under Bridges

by Sandi Toksvig

  The house was fabulous. Everything was straight from a centre spread of House & Garden. If one of those ghastly television make-over teams laid a finger on the place you would kill them. The hall was enormous, with a great mountainous staircase up to a galleried landing. A frozen acrylic banister had been twisted and turned up the oak stairs like a liquid waterfall running over a deep, blue carpet. Adam and Eve received their name tags from some ‘staff’ and moved to shimmer into the shag-pile room. William had got a photographer to ‘snap’ everyone as they arrived. Of course, Eve tripped. She did not glide in on Adam’s arm but landed head first in six inches of double Worcester. Adam did try to grab her as she fell but he was also protecting his privates and it was left to Pe Pe to deal beautifully with the faux pas.

  ‘High heels!’ She laughed one of those crystals laughs that women have to practise to perfect. ‘Such a monstrous invention. They bring you up to a man’s height and then make sure you can’t keep up with him.’ She and Adam roared at her quip and they moved into the room while Eve returned to the vertical. She looked around the crowded room. It was a husbands- and wivesfest. Everyone had come in a couple. There were no spinsters, no unbought merchandise. The men were there to network and the wives were there to look charming, be supportive. They were awash in the cult of coupledom, where to be single was to be one of the unchosen ones. The chosen few had to band together. Admit nothing. Smile. The wife who would dare to confess that she was unhappy was throwing in the towel. It was not done. The women all worked at being a wife, year after year. It was an investment no woman would dare to lose by admitting defeat. If the chosen ones were defeated, the unchosen would smell retreat and circle around.

  Eve knew what Adam wanted. He wanted her to be a politician’s wife, an insurance salesman’s wife — look good but not too good, dress well but not expensively, speak when spoken to, come when called and laugh at his jokes. Never be caught sneering/frowning/yawning/slouching/looking anything but perfectly groomed. He would never have said so but Eve knew it all the same.

  Why didn’t she leave there and then? Head off for pastures new? Eve could no more admit to that room that she was unhappy than sculpt herself like Pe Pe. The only thing she had ever laboured at was being a wife and mother. If Eve didn’t have that then there was nothing left. There was a commotion in the hall. Lots of high-pitched squeaking blended with low-pitched men taking coats and offering drinks. Inge had arrived.

  Pe Pe was almost overcome with excitement. The crowd parted like the Red Sea as she led Inge, her prize guest, into the large sitting room.

  ‘I expect you’ll want to check your hair,’ she said very loudly, although Inge’s hair looked perfect. ‘May I show you the way?’ Pe Pe smiled graciously at her guests as Inge obediently followed in her hostess’s wake. ‘We’ve just had the house feng shuid. That’s why there’s no mirror in the hall.’

  ‘Sorry?’

  ‘You know, feng shuid — it’s Chinese. A lovely little man comes and rebalances the energy in your house. You can’t have a mirror in the hall. It literally bounces good fortune out of the home. He said—’

  Inge never heard what the wise Oriental had to say. She spied Eve and rushed over with open arms. ‘Hello, Camie.’

  They hugged while Pe Pe stood watching, her mouth the only part of her face still smiling.

  ‘Do you want a drink?’ asked Eve.

  Inge nodded her head at Pe Pe and whispered, ‘I’d love one but apparently I have to check my hair.’

  ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Eve and Inge lined up beside Pe Pe, who once again led the way.

  ‘You look stunning, Pe Pe,’ Eve said, because it was true.

  ‘Well, needs must. I know he’s your brother but I don’t want to give Willie an excuse to run off with anyone else. Third wife syndrome!’ She eyed the other women in the room as they departed. Each one a potential thief. Each spinster of this parish a dangerous piece of unbought merchandise.

  ‘Poor Martha,’ Pe Pe commented under her breath. ‘Never married, you know. It’s so sad because…’ There was a horrible pause as Pe Pe realised that Inge had never married. Up close and off the television she suddenly saw her in a slightly different light. Perhaps inviting her had not been such a wonderful idea. She was really very attractive. Inge excused herself into the loo.

  In the bathroom mirror the energy bounced out of Eve. Pe Pe and she looked in together while Pe Pe fixed something unnecessarily. Eve looked at this endlessly smiling woman. This woman who slept with her brother.

  ‘Pe Pe, are you happy?’

  ‘Eve, I am happy because I intend to be. Happiness is not accidental. It is purposeful. It is something you have to create all day long.’

  ‘How?’

  Pe Pe applied a new layer of lip gloss as she spoke. ‘Every morning I tell myself a story for three or four minutes about the kind of day I intend to have. I promise myself a good day. I focus on beauty and joy. The story keeps me on track as the day unfolds. You have to let the negative stuff go. Each day I have a new opportunity to be happy. Just about everyone can be happy, Eve.’ She looked at Eve as if she half thought her sister-in-law disproved the theory. ‘Intending to be happy is the first step. Take the party tonight. Go out there and keep asking what joy can I find in this situation? Maximise all experience.’ She snapped the lid on to her lipstick as Inge emerged from her retreat. ‘And smile.’

  A marquee had been set up in the garden and there was a band for dancing. Women performing that neat sleight of hand where they glide backwards, controlling every muscle and yet making it look as though the man is shoving them effortlessly round the floor. Eve knew she couldn’t do it. It was too much like ice-skating.

  Inge was swept away on a tide of enthusiasm. Everyone wanted to meet her. Everyone wanted to talk to her.

  Eve tried conversation with several people during the evening. ‘It’s my mother, you see. I have to look after her. She’s in hospital but she’ll be out soon,’ she said to one half-interested woman. ‘When she’s better I’m thinking of going into business with—’

  ‘Oh, you should put her in a home. That’s what we did with mine. It’s a pity because she used to be such fun. Loved a flutter on the horses. Used to bet on anything. Actually it was one Christmas we realised it had got out of hand and she was on her way out. She put gambling chips in the pudding instead of sixpences and they didn’t take well to all that boiling.’

  The surprise of the evening was that Theresa Baker was there with her partner Brian. They seemed the wrong sort of people for Willie and Pe Pe but it appeared Brian was due to make some murals for the shopping precinct. He and Theresa were allowed to be a bit odd as he was an artist.

  Pe Pe had caterers. She also had a tailor-made Poggenpohl kitchen, but as far as Eve knew she had never used it. She beamed at everyone. She looked fabulous. Like Venus de Milo before that unfortunate arm thing. The whole town appeared to have turned up. John Antrobus was there. And Eve’s family, of course. Her daughter Shirley and her sister Martha, who was holding court in a corner. Eve couldn’t think what to say to her. She was terrified that she’d ask whether she’d used the speculum.

  Everywhere waiters whispered and glided about with things on silver plates. All the dishes were decorated in a tennis theme, while small children dressed in Wimbledon whites rushed around selling raffle tickets. Eve could see Adam trying to get William to one side but he kept getting cornered by John. They were having some very intense discussion.

  ‘It’s sushi,’ beamed Pe Pe, over a plate of wet fish. ‘It’s so good for you. I’m thinking of writing a book about it.’

  ‘What are you going to call it?’ snarled Martha. ‘If you knew sushi like I know sushi?’ Pe Pe’s beam never faltered. She was a dental dream.

  ‘I sense anger in you, Martha, and I can help you with that.’

  Eve sensed anger in Martha too and she couldn’t help her with that, so she went to find somewhere to sit down. Inge was deep in
conversation with the president of the tennis club.

  ‘We are so grateful to you, Miss Holbrook,’ he gushed. ‘This is going to make all the difference to the children.’

  Inge smiled. ‘Well, the more under-privileged kids we can get into sport, the better.’

  The man’s bonhomie faltered. ‘Under-privileged?’

  Inge nodded. ‘The money from tonight. To get kids into tennis.

  The president laughed politely. ‘Oh, that. No, it’s for our first team to go to Paris and play against a lovely French team at a private lycée. To be honest there’s not a parent in the club who couldn’t afford the trip but we thought it would be good for club morale to have a fund-raiser.’

  After about an hour and a half, William called for everyone’s attention.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen, ladies and gentlemen, we shall now be drawing the raffle. Into the conservatory, please, everyone.’

  The conservatory was new and until that moment had been kept firmly shut. Pe Pe hustled the tennis children into a short guard of honour, while William opened the large double doors to the room. He marched in, clapped his hands and lights came on in a vast glass palace just off the sitting room. It was stunning. He clapped his hands again and classical music began playing softly.

  ‘The latest technology.’ He clapped his hands again and the lights went off until he clapped them on once more. In the centre of the room was a large table covered with a white silk cloth. Pe Pe ushered everyone into the room while holding back Inge as guest of honour. Inge was grateful. The woman speaking to her was the one from the café. She had not left Inge alone for an hour.

  ‘The people at the garage knew where the house was, so I did call round to give you details about the ball but there was only your housekeeper in,’ said the woman.

  Inge looked confused. ‘I don’t have a housekeeper.’

  The woman smiled, thinking perhaps Inge was too busy to remember. ‘Yes you do. I met her. Coloured woman. Very pleasant.’

  That’s not my housekeeper.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Thank you all for coming,’ began William.

  ‘You won’t forget about the ball?’ the woman called to Inge, as she was forcibly separated from fame by Pe Pe. ‘It will be so fabulous.’

  The room hushed to listen to William. ‘Welcome to what can only be described as a fabulous charity evening. We are here so that the kids of Edenford can play tennis… in France, and who better as our guest of honour than that tennis champion—’

  ‘Athletics,’ said Eve, quite loudly.

  ‘—and great sports commentator, now resident here in Edenford…’

  This caused a general murmur with at least three people saying, ‘Oh yes, her parent’s house, you know, on Maple Lane.’

  ‘… Inge Holbrook.’

  As a pièce de résistance, the two lines of children whipped out tennis rackets from behind their backs and held them up to form an arch for Inge to walk under. It caused a wave of applause and Inge to have a brief moment where she thought she’d lost an eye. As soon as the clapping started the room technology kicked in. All the lights went on and off and Mozart had a stuttering fit. It was perhaps not as smooth as Pe Pe had intended. Inge bent low and emerged in the room with the walk of a hunchback. William stepped forward with a large crystal bowl of raffle tickets.

  ‘Now then, before anyone asks me what’s under the white silk, it’s the model for the new Edenford Shopping Mall — as brought to you by Cameron Builders — but I’ve covered it up because we are not here to talk business. We are here for charity.’ More applause, more stuttering music, more lights flashing on and off. ‘Thanks to the many generous people who have had their arms twisted by my magnificent wife …’ William pretended to rub his own arm. ‘Ow!’ he said, and everyone laughed…. we have some very exciting prizes. First prize — two tickets to the mixed-doubles semi-finals at this year’s Wimbledon championships, kindly donated by Cameron Builders… Inge, the winner, please.’

  Inge reached in and pulled out a number. The prize-went to a small boy in a suit, who said very loudly, ‘But Mum, I hate tennis.

  He was persuaded that this was not the case and Inge moved on to second prize.

  ‘A day-trip to Paris on the Eurostar, first class, including a meal for two at the famous Maison Catherine in Montmartre. Coincidentally on the same day that our lovely first team will be there. Kindly donated by Cameron Builders. Inge, the winner please.’

  Inge reached in again and pulled out a white counterfoil. She had no trouble reading the name. It was written in the neatest, smallest print she had ever seen. ‘The winner is John Antrobus.’

  John stepped forward and kissed Inge on both cheeks. He shook William’s hand in a double-handed grip and waved his prize ticket for the crowd to see. The prizes were a little less exciting after that. Someone got their drive re-tarmacked for free and quite a lot of people went home with bottles of oak-smoked chardonnay.

  Eve won nothing so she wandered off to the bookshelves. It was not a time to chat with Inge. The shelves were crammed with Pe Pe’s bestsellers and other works of importance. Most of them were quick-fix guides to sorting your life out. Inner improvement for people in a hurry. Eve had laid before her an entire industry dedicated to selling the concepts of self-improvement and self-acceptance for impatient people.

  There were books on all sorts of things. Some of it was fairly standard like acupuncture, organic beef cookery, aura reading and even holistic dentistry, but then it rather skewed off the tracks of believability. There were tomes on healing gems, healing crystals, fourth-dimensional chromatic healing, magic healing lamps, magic wands, numerology, techniques for recalling past lives, tantric-sex therapy, vocational-awakening group exploration, Native-American shamanism, three volumes on ayurvedic medicine of Ancient India, two on astral travel, several on I Ching loving light massage, and a very disturbing book giving advice on ‘walking on a bed of hot coals to a destination of new spiritual realities and deeper capacities to love’.

  ‘Junk food for the mind,’ said a voice behind her. John Antrobus was standing there smiling.

  ‘Oh well,’ replied Eve. ‘I’m a busy woman. I was just trying to see how quickly I could improve myself. I thought perhaps there was time before any more excitement. Well done on your prize.’

  ‘You two finding inner happiness?’ enquired Inge, finally left alone for two minutes.

  ‘Hmmm, we are but we feel we need to do it quickly.’ John scanned the shelves and picked up a volume. ‘How about 14,000 Things to be Happy About?’

  Inge shook her head. ‘Far too many. This is better. Simplify Your Life: 100 Ways to Slow Down and Enjoy the Things that Really Matter.

  John examined the book and then said, ‘I still think one hundred is a bit steep. I mean, I have a life as well.’

  ‘True, true.’ The trio kept looking.

  ‘Ten Principles for Total Emotional and Spiritual Fulfilment,’ called Eve. ‘The Nine Choices of Extremely Happy People,’ replied John.

  Inge came back straight away with, ‘The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. And… it’s a gift edition which should make you even happier.’

  ‘No,’ Eve said. ‘I’ve got it — Five Easy Steps for Discovering What You Really Want and Getting It or Dianetics: In a Couple of Hours I was Over the Pain of the Sudden Death of My Best Friend.’

  John acknowledged that getting it down to five was good but he had the clincher in his hand. ‘The 15-Second Approach to Setting and Achieving Lifetime Goals: Transform Your Life, Be More Relaxed, Live More Fully and Have Time to Follow Your Dreams. Extraordinary Results in a Minimum Amount of Time.’

  ‘I like this one,’ declared Eve. Shelter for the Spirit: How to Make Your Home More than a Drop-Off Zone.’

  ‘That’s good but here’s a cracker — Yesterday I Cried: Celebrating the Lesson of Living and Loving.’ Inge began to read out loud. ‘Eve — find the courage to celebrate yourself. Yesterday I cr
ied for the woman I wanted to be. Today I cry in celebration of her birth. Yesterday I cried for the little girl in me who was not loved or wanted. Today I cry as she dances around my heart in celebration of herself.’

  The three of them were crying with laughter when Shirley came over smiling.

  ‘Mum,’ she said. ‘That’s the first time I’ve seen you laughing since Granddad died.’

  ‘I suppose it is.’ Inge and John watched as mother and daughter hugged each other and Eve stroked her daughter’s hair. Since Shirley had taken her building society job she had moved into a flat with a friend. It was lovely that she was independent but Eve missed her so badly.

  ‘Well, this will make you smile.’ Shirley beamed. ‘I’ve got in at Durham and Exeter.’

  Eve didn’t know what to say. It was as though everything she had ever done had fallen into place. Her daughter, her baby, was going to be a lawyer. She was going to university; she was getting out.

  ‘Oh, well done.’ Inge reached out and pulled Shirley into a hug. Eve’s head was bursting with a hundred ways they should celebrate when she heard John cry, ‘We must celebrate!’

  ‘Absolutely,’ Eve managed through her tears of complete joy.

  ‘It’s essential,’ declared Inge.

  ‘I know,’ he said, ‘let me take you to France for that slap-up lunch I just won. Go on, it’ll be fun.’

  Shirley looked at Eve and, of course, she couldn’t say anything. It would be fun. Eve liked John then. She really did. He had taken time to talk to her and she was grateful.

  The rest of the evening rather deteriorated after that. When Eve went to look for Adam, she found him beside the unveiled model of the shopping centre. It would be a massive development. Huge acres of glass held aloft by arcs of wood and steel. Adam looked terrible. Eve thought he was going to faint. She went over and held his hand.