Mothertime

by Gillian White

  Robin glances at Suzie who’s staring out over the top of the door at hers. It’s dark out there and not too warm; eating out so early was a stupid suggestion of Suzie’s. ‘That makes two of you with time on your hands all of a sudden. What a pity that neither of you have managed to get on.’

  Suzie swings round. ‘Why, Robin? Oh, jolly good! You’re about to suggest that we could have spent some of our spare time together now, are you? My God! My God! After everything that woman’s put us through…’

  ‘She’s all right now. She’s over it now, just as I said she would be. When I spoke to her yesterday morning she sounded like a completely different person.’

  ‘Robin, why are you always making excuses for Caroline? You’ve always defended her. You’ve never once come out in total condemnation! Could it be because you feel guilty?’ Suzie’s given up her job. She doesn’t work any more, not even part-time. Well, first there was the demanding task of turning the attic rooms into a nursery and playroom. ‘Let’s get this straight, Suzie, are you honestly telling me you’re quite happy to allow an interior decorator to take over?’ Robin asked her, astonished. ‘And that you wouldn’t find any enjoyment in picking out the materials and wallpapers yourself?’

  ‘That’s not going to take me very long, is it Robin, for God’s sake.’

  ‘But it’s not just that,’ he went on. She’d already turned down the offer from Brussels; she realised in the end what a selfish move that would be. After all, she didn’t want to be a bad mother, hard and uncaring, like Caroline. ‘I want this whole process to be meaningful and enjoyable for both of us. This is our baby. Such a special child deserves a mother full-time, don’t you think?’

  She laughed at first. ‘What on earth would I do with my spare time? And I enjoy working. I don’t work very hard, Robin. What I do is scarcely taxing!’

  ‘But it takes you away from me, don’t you see?’

  ‘No, frankly, I don’t.’ And Suzie thought about Caroline. She remembered the play and the part she had lost. And Suzie slept uneasily in her bed; she fretted about the child she carried, she felt it sucking at her already like a parasite in her womb, and she worried that she might not love it. If she gave up something she enjoyed, she’d be proving something, wouldn’t she?

  ‘You’re looking tired and pale,’ everyone told her. ‘Why don’t you ease up a bit.’

  ‘You can always start working again afterwards,’ said Suzie’s mother sensibly. ‘Pander to Robin a little bit, dear. Men like that. He loves you too much, that’s his trouble.’ And Robin fusses and frets over her as if she’s a fragile china doll. Suzie pretends to be happy with this but she’s not. Vanessa has never seen her pour a second brandy before and Daddy is hurt. He knows that, being pregnant, she should not drink. He moves over as if he’s about to…

  ‘Damn you!’ shouts Suzie. ‘I need this! I need it! So why don’t you bloody well leave me alone, or have you a sick compulsion about correction on top of all your other sodding hang-ups!’

  Everyone is embarrassed. This is not how it is at Ammerton Mews; this is far more like Camberley Road, and Amber jumps up and rushes to Daddy’s side. She tries to fit her small hand into his but he’s tense, he’s angry, he won’t let her in. For a split second, but only for a second, Vanessa feels sorry for Suzie because she can’t fight him. No one can fight against Daddy. He’s far too gentle and good, he just goes away. He just goes to God, or to work.

  It’s dark outside, and cold, and everyone secretly wants to go upstairs and turn on the fire.

  ‘Where will Eileen go after she’s moved?’ asks Camilla politely.

  Robin has to answer because Suzie’s not prepared to cooperate. Suzie doesn’t look too well, she looks drawn and nervous. The rug has been whipped from under her. ‘Not far away. She is moving into a bungalow in the village. It’s far more sensible for a woman on her own and she’ll be able to take all her cats, although I don’t know how long they’ll last with the traffic going past the front door. And what about schools? Has your mother given any thought to where you will go to school? You’ll be sorry to leave the convent, Vanessa. I need to know much more about that. I don’t suppose your mother has bothered to find out if there’s anything suitable in the vicinity? She certainly didn’t mention anything to me on the phone.’

  Yes, Vanessa will be sorry to leave the convent and the magnificently religious Sister Agnes, although she is not the nun’s favourite any more. As a child she is safe but Vanessa knows that when she becomes a woman she is going to lose Daddy. But she no longer wants to become a nun, not any longer. Being a nun won’t stop her growing up; her face might remain like a child’s, framed by that stiff halo of plastic but even under a nun’s habit her body will be all rude and hairy. Her breasts are growing, one much faster than the other, and there’s nothing she can do to stop them. Binding them in bandages every night only makes her feel sore in the morning and they’re still coming through. Prayers don’t stop them.

  No, there’s no getting away from the fact that Daddy loves Suzie. He likes the sort of hard-faced woman that Suzie is, and the only way to achieve that is to follow as firmly as she can in Suzie’s footsteps. Absorb all the influences. It’s not too late. ‘The younger ones are going to the village school and Camilla and I are going to what used to be the high school. Mother’s found out that the old high school has a very good reputation.’ She’s accumulated all this information from the estate agent’s brochure. And she knows that Suzie went there before she left home to go to university. Vanessa’s going to try for the same university as Suzie, too—Bristol, and it’s got a name for being the most right-wing and snobby.

  Suzie looks peeved while Daddy is still concerned. ‘You’re going to find it all very different after London.’

  ‘You won’t like it,’ says Suzie nastily, and Vanessa detects the first suggestion of a respectful, honest kind of dislike showing through at last. There’ll be less of the biting sarcasm now, less of the mocking laughter. Dominic flips back with: ‘Well, are you offering to have us stay here?’

  ‘I think that is what your father would like,’ says Suzie, drily. ‘He is good with children. He knows all there is to know about children and their care.’

  ‘We’ve been through all that, Suzie, and now is not the time, nor the place.’

  ‘Whatever you say, dear,’ and Suzie mocks but Suzie is almost in tears.

  Robin refuses to rise to the bait. That’s funny… Caroline used to say that with that same, sarcastic tone in her voice before she reached for another drink. Suzie’s doing the same thing now. There’s definitely something wrong.

  Daddy goes on, ‘You’ll have to come and stay with us during the school holidays. You can always come at weekends, although where we’ll put you all I don’t know, now that we are converting the attic’

  ‘I used to think it would make an ideal study, a nice, peaceful place to work with a lovely view.’ But nobody’s listening to Suzie any more because she’s just being difficult and silly, excluded and chilled, reduced to such childish behaviour to attract Daddy’s attention now.

  ‘And you must come and stay with us, Daddy. You must bring Suzie and the baby. I’m sure Mother would like that.’

  Daddy smiles at what he considers to be Vanessa’s little joke. ‘At a pub down the road, perhaps. I doubt very much that your mother would want us any nearer than that. Where, exactly, is this place? Caroline told me the West Country but she didn’t say where.’

  ‘We will probably be allowed to have a cat.’ Amber can’t stay quiet any longer and Daddy is so annoyed with Suzie—you can see how annoyed he is underneath—that, to Vanessa’s enormous relief he forgets the difficult question. Somerset is a large county but it might come as too much of a coincidence were she to mention that now. Suzie’s much too defensive.

  It’s nice not having to be sullen here; it’s nice not having to be sullen and sour when she’s with Daddy and Suzie. For the first time ever her secret hopes give Vanessa t
he sense of equality that’s always been lacking when she visits Suzie’s house. Vanessa wants to wrap up her hope into something hard, like a stone, and throw it at Suzie to hurt her harder. ‘We are all very excited indeed. We can’t wait to move to the country.’

  Suzie says, ‘It can only be a whim of Caroline’s. It’s a silly whim. It can’t last. She won’t fit into the country at all. She doesn’t even drive a car—and what about men?’

  Daddy says, ‘Don’t spoil this for them, Suzie, please. Can’t you see how much they all want it?’

  ‘Are you having one of your bad days, Suzie?’ Amber asks the question in the same innocent manner she used to ask Mother.

  Suzie smashes a plate. It shatters noisily and the slivers fly out in a circle. It’s hard to tell if it is deliberate or accidental… but Vanessa knows how much Suzie wants to shout, ‘You little bitch!’ and she smiles with a bittersweet pleasure as Daddy bends to pick it up tiredly.

  By now the night is thoroughly dark. It’s a relief to be safe inside Daddy’s car after the tension of the evening. Always the best place to be, Vanessa sits in the front beside him, sad because he’s unhappy but pleased to see Suzie so riled. Oh dear, maybe tomorrow all this will be different. Maybe tomorrow Suzie will be laughing her head off when she hears that there’s no house in the country after all, when she discovers that Vanessa has been taken off by the police and the children are to be split up. Suzie will gain such strength from that! Suzie will tower on her pinnacle again. Wincing, Vanessa can even hear Suzie telling Daddy she’d always known there was something wrong with her, ‘sitting there staring, peculiar, withdrawn. We should have done something earlier—it was obvious there was something psychologically wrong with the girl.’

  When Vanessa sees the lights shining on to the street her heart beats with hot, sickly thumps and she feels such shock it is like being punched in the stomach. What has happened? The curtains have not been drawn, and every room is lit up like a lantern, but there are no signs of anyone moving about—there’s nobody standing there waiting or looking out. She turns to Daddy, so afraid that for a dangerous instant, she is about to give the whole game away. But he merely looks out and says mildly, ‘Your mother must be home for once. I really think I should come in and see her.’

  ‘But Suzie’s upset,’ is the first thing Vanessa can think of to say. ‘You must get back.’ She can hear Sacha about to start whimpering. She must get them out of the car before they start asking stupid questions. ‘And Mother’ll probably be in the bath, anyway. If she’s just got home that’s where she’ll be and she stays there for ages.’

  ‘You are probably right.’ But he isn’t totally convinced. It’s a great relief when the children scramble out of the car, without any fuss for once, and he drives away.

  They stand in a frightened bunch at the bottom of the steps, looking up. Dominic sounds so sinister. ‘Somebody must be there. What if it’s a burglar, or Mr Walsh?’

  ‘We should have made Daddy come in with us. I don’t like it,’ whines Sacha.

  Camilla asks the question slowly. ‘I wonder how she got out?’

  ‘We don’t know it’s Mother yet, do we?’

  One more night, God, one more night, that’s all I asked from You! It wasn’t much, was it. Why did You have to let me down, why did You have to go and spoil everything?

  But quite unaffected by any such dark misgivings, Amber’s away and dashing across the pavement. With her duffle coat swinging behind her, she’s up the steps and jumping up to stab at the bell. ‘Come on! Come on! Bring the key! What are you all doing standing there? Come on, hurry up, let’s all go and find Mummy!’

  Dominic marches deliberately towards the door with the key in his hand. He opens it and disappears inside number 14, Camberley Road. Camilla is next; with a protective arm around Sacha’s shoulders her golden hair catches the gleam of the porchlight as she steps over the threshold. They do not look back. They do not return for Vanessa. It’s so easy for them to go, it’s so easy for them to trust… they are children, they’ve done nothing wrong. But Vanessa, paperwhite, cannot follow. Mother will be in there waiting, dishevelled, wild-eyed and completely insane. Truly a living nightmare. Vanessa’s head has grown so enormous that she holds it carefully on her neck so it will not fall off and burst into scarlet pieces on the pavement. She stands there twisting her hands, biting her lips, staring up at the drawing-room window, caught so obviously in an act of such cruelty, such unmitigated unkindness that suddenly she knows absolutely that Mother, let alone God, will never, ever forgive her.

  All of a sudden the fun house has switched off all its lights and turned into the house of horrors.

  When she kissed her it was softly, not touching anywhere else save for raising one hand to her daughter’s cheek. The tears with which they met each other were like rain on their faces.

  Thirty-four

  IT WAS SOMETHING SO wild, so savage. Vanessa had been mad, hadn’t she, obsessed by something which was not quite wholesome. No one’s ashamed, it’s just that they choose not to mention it. Ever. The kiss seemed to seal it; it seemed to say—put it away till I’m dead and then you can get it out, but only if you have to.

  But whichever way you look at it, Mother has been saved.

  Autumn, winter, springtime, Mothertime—she is the one that everybody wants. She’s not all milk and honey, though. She can be stern when it’s necessary, and although they’ve not quite been down at Poppins for one full year yet, she’s already a member of the village fête committee, she organises the speakers for the village hall debates and she’s on the junior school PTA. She’s made new friends now and it seems that she’s very popular—properly popular. People are always popping in for her homemade lemonade and her brown, sugary biscuits, crisp and crumby from the Aga. People are always commenting, ‘What a remarkable woman you are!’

  She has started to play the cello. She plays it in the garden, at night, when it’s dark. When it’s full moon she swims naked in the lake on the hills—she says she knows what it’s like being inside a diamond.

  How small her world is now. But she doesn’t appear to mind. You can get close, you can nuzzle her, you can breathe her.

  She is the mother to whom you could send one of those curious cards that read ‘Mother is another word for love…’

  She is the mother from Swallows and Amazons, The Railway Children and Little Women rolled sweetly into one. A slightly tragic figure, she looks as if she’s been hurt, as if she knows that the struggle she fought against this will mark her for the rest of her life. But her beautiful, faraway smile holds such wisdom, such understanding, that whenever he sees it, poor old Lot loses his heart all over again.

  She looks like the statue Lot found, drowning beneath the fountain.

  The pagan Lot is useful here like a dog on a lead, and wanted, in his baggy trousers, his open-toed sandals and his striped, Victorian collarless shirts, bleached and tattered. He keeps other, more dangerous men with primitive urges, at bay, to the children’s total approval. All Lot wants is to be close and to please her. With his strong, agile hands he built a house for the hens. He has sawn out a flap in the kitchen door for the cats. He looks far more ‘normal’ in Somerset, and that’s what he reckons was wrong with him. ‘It’s the country life that suits me. I am obviously a man of the soil and I needed to be closer to the earth.’ He flexes his muscles. He brings Mummy bunches of flowers and soft fruits, strange arrangements, sometimes. He seems to imagine she is a kind of tree goddess. He changes plugs, he chops the wood, he carves flat-bottomed boats for Dominic and he works on the garden stolidly, sweating and bronzed, in a soil that wriggles with earthworms, with his shirt like a flag proclaiming his happiness hooked on the handle of the spade. He sends lavender bags to the people he loves—Mum and Dad, Bart and Ruby. Well of course she came back, she was only trying to teach Bart a lesson. Behind the scenes Ruby’s Dad saved the house and the company, Bart lost his casting vote, but he couldn’t care less about th
at. This is a tapestry garden, with its tall hedges and narrow green pathways, with its bower of roses propped up again, renovated from olden days. Its old-fashioned flowerbeds are full of Mummy’s favourite flowers—hollyhocks, lupins and Canterbury bells. When they sit outside in the summer evenings with a jug of lemon barley water, the swifts whoosh low overhead.

  It is riddled with dens, new and old, and every so often the children discover neglected toys—little bits of a doll’s dainty teaset sitting among the weeds, and the rusting wheels of somebody’s go-cart.

  Mrs Guerney didn’t come with them although Mummy asked her.

  ‘You don’t need me now,’ she said, but she wasn’t cross. ‘Any fool can see that. I was getting worried about you, I have to say it. I wondered what was going on but Vanessa is such a reliable child that I thought to myself, “you silly old party, don’t be so darn soft.” That spell at Broadlands and that last job of yours, whatever it was and I don’t like to pry, well, Mrs Townsend, what can I say? You’ve matured, that’s what you’ve done. You don’t need me and at dear last you don’t need HIM. Saints alive, Mrs Townsend, you don’t need anybody any more. And I’ve got my lodger to look after and besides, Mr Morrisey needs me here what with his wife, poor old soul. Are you all right, Mrs Townsend, dear? Are you really, truly all right? There’s nothing wrong, is there?’

  It was a touching moment. And Caroline kissed Mrs Guerney… they all did. They hugged her and they kissed her and her lips smacked tight together and her great bosom quivered, but you could see that she loved it. Before they moved they clubbed together and bought her a bust of the Queen.

  Ilse’s gone back to Sweden but before she departed she made quite sure that Paulo put a ring on her finger. It is questionable whether she’ll qualify to come back to England… it is questionable whether Paulo was a British Citizen in the first place, but Mrs Guerney proved her largeness of spirit by giving the sobbing girl a brand new Union Jack flight bag.