by Beth Miller
‘She is changed, in some ways,’ Mama says, cryptically, ‘but in other ways she is still that same little niña from before.’ She doesn’t say any more, a Spanish Confucius, and I can’t think how to continue the conversation without wading into treacherous waters. So we work together in silence, other than Mama’s sighs and little sobs, folding her old-lady cardigans and pleated skirts into Michael’s battered brown leather suitcase.
I go to my own room to pack, but am drawn to the window, where I can watch the Clines’ attempts to get all their kids into the car at the same time. Heifer keeps having to go and look for shoes and coats, dispensing snacks like a vending machine, while Danny straps suitcases to the roof. Every time he ties an elastic cord to one side, he has to stretch to tie it to the other, revealing a flash of flat stomach. Very nice.
When at last they’re ready, I try to get away with an air-kiss for Heifer, but am pulled against my will into a full-blown hug. By God, she’s strong.
‘Look after yourself,’ she gasps, all moist-eyed. ‘And this little one.’ She clumsily pats my stomach, then trots off for a final trip to the loo, leaving Danny to settle the children into the car. I pretend we’re married and the kids are ours. Bloody hell, the number of them: clearly we can’t keep our hands off each other.
Laura: Well, Danny darling, long drive ahead.
Danny: Yes, my sweet, but once we’ve got the little ones to bed, I won’t be too tired to give you another marvellous seeing to.
Laura: Ooh, yes please! (Giggles happily.)
Think how old our child would have been – twenty-two! Unbelievable. I wonder if Danny ever thinks of it.
There’s a mad moment when the children are seated, Heifer’s still in the house, everyone else has wandered off, and just Danny and I stand together by the car. I say, ‘Drive carefully, won’t you? Miffy says your driving’s terrifying.’
He smiles, looking down at me. I reach up and snake my arms round him, skin of my arms against skin of his neck. To my surprise he lets me, even bends his body slightly towards me, exhales a breath against my face. I feel a rush of blood to all my most interesting places. My nipples actually ping out.
Now he pushes me gently away, but not before I have felt his erection against my belly. The sky darkens momentarily, and I can’t focus. He won’t look at me. He opens the boot and reorganises some bags, though they are packed fine, unzips one then zips it up again. Says, ‘Ah, here’s Hella now.’
I stand back to let his fat wife take her place in the passenger seat. Mama rushes out with something one of the kids has forgotten, and we stand and wave. Mama goes inside once the car is down the street, but I stay for I don’t know how long, watching the space where he was.
What the fuck just happened?
The house is very quiet when eventually I go back in. I open my bag to put my sunglasses away, and on top is a note from Miffy. It’s scrawled on notepaper torn from the pad by Mama’s phone, but it smells of Miffy’s scent. ‘Good to see you, Laura. I’ll be in touch soon. Love—’ and instead of her name she has drawn her old trademark signature: a rabbit’s head with floppy ears.
Miffy
1979
Melinda
Rabbi Aron is gorgeous to look at, but his sermons are so boring. This morning everyone was doing those hiding-yawns where you keep your mouth closed and stretch out your face. Nat Samuels fell asleep. I tried blocking out what Aron was saying, and concentrated on his face, but it wasn’t easy. The man’s got to be able to talk interestingly, as well as look sexy, hasn’t he? Otherwise once you’re married and used to his face, it’s going to be a lot of dull evenings listening to him drone on.
After the service, Aron was mobbed by a bunch of old people. I stood behind his elbow for about a million years, tapping his soft jacket, until finally he turned round and I blurted, ‘I’m not doing too well learning my portion.’
I was hoping he’d offer to take over my teaching but he said, ‘Max tells me you’re doing brilliantly, Melinda.’
Who the hell is Melinda? I said, ‘It’s Melissa.’
‘Oh, yes, of course, I’m so sorry.’ He turned back to talk to Rosa Spiegel, who was standing very close, her sticky pink lipstick stretched round her great fat smile.
On the way home I told Mum my views about how a husband has to be interesting as well as nice-looking (not mentioning Aron, just as a general opinion on marriage). She said I had hit the nail on the head. Dad was driving so I didn’t think he could hear. But he looked at us in the mirror and said, ‘Don’t forget to tell Lissa about women and their bloody boring nagging, will you, darling?’
None of us said anything else for the rest of the journey.
Flirting
Laura came over today to discuss the guest list for her birthday party. When she wrote down Towse’s name, I asked if she fancied him. She said, ‘Of course not! He’s your bloke, isn’t he? Anyway, between you and me, he was a crap snogger.’
Mum was out shopping with Danners, and Mrs Morente stayed and drank wine with Dad in the garden. Laura and I watched them through the French windows. They didn’t know we were there.
Laura said, ‘Isn’t Mama pretty?’
‘Yes.’ Mrs Morente was wearing a red shirt with a wide-open collar and tight black trousers, with her high orange sandals. ‘My mum’s pretty too.’
‘Mmm. The Charming Mrs Cline has some good points. Her hair’s a good colour. Mama says her hairdresser earns her money.’
Dad put his arm round Mrs Morente’s shoulder.
‘Isn’t it sweet the way they love to flirt?’ Laura said.
I didn’t know exactly what she meant. She said, ‘Sometimes I think your dad is really my dad too.’
I didn’t like her saying that. I said, ‘What about your real dad?’
‘I haven’t seen him for two years.’ She laughed. ‘He probably won’t even bother to send me a birthday present.’
Dad shook his head, and Olivia Morente put her hand on his cheek for a moment, as if to say, ‘don’t worry’. Then they both stared at the ground and looked sad. If this was flirting, it didn’t look that much fun.
Laura said, ‘Let’s pretend your dad is my dad too, then we’ll be sisters.’
I don’t want to share my dad, but it would be brilliant to have Laura as a sister. For the rest of the day, we kept calling each other ‘Miffy-sister’ and ‘Laura-sister’. It was really nice.
The Kiss
Dad took us to Laura’s party early, so he could help. Mrs Morente told me I was looking very nice, though Mum had insisted on me wearing my horrible yellow blouse from Helene’s Paris Fashions. Laura was looking gorgeous in a new pink swirly skirt. The room was decorated with bunting and a poster Laura had made of a huge ‘14’ decorated with photos of all her friends and family. There was one of me in the middle of the four. I gave Laura a big packet of Maltesers and a jewellery tree I’d made from pipe cleaners, painted gold with Danners’ Airfix paint. I pretended I’d bought it at a craft fair, but actually I’d got the idea from Blue Peter. She said the Maltesers were brilliant, but didn’t say anything about the tree.
I helped Anthony East put out the food while Dad and Mrs Morente arranged Coke and lemonade on the bar, which was really a kitchen table. When the doorbell rang we all squealed. Some older boys, who all knew Danners, came in. Then the bell seemed to ring every minute until the room was full. Dad was serving people drinks in an embarrassing way, saying, ‘What would sir like?’ and, ‘We have a fine array of beverages here.’ Danners and I were just dying, but Mrs Morente was really laughing. She asked Anthony East to go out and buy more orangeade. Then she and Dad stood behind the bar, talking and smiling. Was this what Laura meant by flirting?
I went over to where Towse was standing, hoping he’d talk to me. This worked, sort of – he asked me if Dan was there. I pointed to where I’d last seen him, but he’d gone. Then he asked where Laura was. I really wanted Towse to stop asking me about other people. So I asked if he’d s
een any good films lately, a suggestion for chatting up boys I’d got from Patches. He just shook his head, so I gave that suggestion nought out of ten. I decided I’d tell him my best film if he didn’t speak for thirty seconds (which I was timing on my watch), but then he said, ‘See if I can find Dan,’ and walked off.
I went back to the bar, which had turned into self-service because Dad and Mrs Morente had disappeared. Then someone turned out the main lights. ‘Hey!’ I said, but no one else seemed to mind, and straight away the room was filled with snogging couples. Someone turned up the music. I groped my way back to my chair. As my eyes got used to the dark, I could see Laura’s friend Fiona kissing a huge black boy. He was holding her chest.
Then a boy squeezed himself onto my chair. We were so squashed together that when I turned my face to say something, he hardly had to move to put his mouth against mine. He smelled of TCP. I opened my lips and he put his tongue inside my mouth and turned it round and round like the spin cycle of a washing machine. My first proper snog! I had my eyes open, and I could see he had fair hair and was quite good-looking, though he had a few spots. My tongue started to get tired and I wondered how long you could kiss without breathing properly. This is the sort of thing they should have in Patches, not useless chat-up lines that don’t work.
Suddenly the lights were snapped on and everyone groaned. It was so bright that for a moment it was hard to see. Fiona called out, ‘God, sorry, I accidentally leaned against the switch.’
Two people on the other side of the room were kissing so passionately they hadn’t even noticed the lights go on. I realised it was Laura and Danners. I turned to the boy I was with and he said, ‘Whoops, sorry – thought you were someone else.’ He got up and so did loads of other people, and everyone started getting ready to go home: finding shoes, doing up shirts, looking for jackets. I said goodbye to Towse, but he didn’t hear, and pushed right past Laura and Danners, who had stopped kissing and were holding hands. Nearly everyone had gone by the time Dad reappeared.
Laura kissed Danners on the cheek as we left, and said, ‘It was brilliant, wasn’t it, Miffy-sister? I’ll phone you tomorrow.’
Dad teased Danners about Laura’s kiss, but he didn’t say anything.
‘What about you, Lissa?’ Dad asked. ‘Did you make any new friends?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘No one special.’
No Easter Eggs
So fed up. Mum, Danners and I had been going to visit Auntie Leila in Brittany for a week. But stupid Dan got a stinking cold which he and Mum insisted on calling flu, meaning he was allowed to stay in bed all day, and Mum cancelled our holiday at the last minute. Everyone else was away. Sasha was in Dorset, and Laura was in Spain at her grandparents’. Dad couldn’t get any time off work, so Mum was grumpy too.
Even worse than not going on holiday was that it was Passover and the shops were filled with Easter eggs, which we’re not allowed to eat. At supper, Danners staggered downstairs wrapped in his continental quilt. He said he would give me money to buy a load of eggs tomorrow and stash them in our rooms till Passover was over. I thought it was a brilliant idea, but Mum said, ‘Flu or no flu, I’d better not catch you bringing traife into the house, young man,’ and Danners went into a sulk. So we were all in a mood. When I’m married to Towse or Aron, I’ll let our children buy chocolate eggs and save them till after Passover.
Jay
After shul this morning, I was walking past that nice-looking son from the new family when he dropped his prayer book right in front of me. I picked it up and he said, ‘Thank you! My name’s Jay, what’s yours?’
He told me his family had only recently moved here from Manchester. Then Mum, with stunning timing, came over to say we were going. I prayed she would fall into the middle of the earth and disappear, but she smiled at Jay, said, ‘So nice to meet you,’ though she hadn’t met him, and told me to run along.
Cagoule
Daddy took me to the big shopping centre at Wood Green. All the shops were under cover, so you didn’t have to go outside. It was nice, just me and Dad. He was in a really good mood and kept cracking jokes. He bought me, Danners and himself these brilliant cagoules, raincoats that you fold up into your pocket.
Laura
5 MARCH 2003
The world’s most pregnant woman lumbers past, leaning heavily on her scraggy husband. She looks quite deformed. A midwife leads them into a side room, and the rest of us exchange horrified looks.
Huw says, ‘Christ, did you see that?’
‘I don’t remember being anywhere near that enormous with Evie.’
‘You were pretty fucking big, now I come to think of it.’
‘Oh, God, was I?’ I put my hands on my bump, tiny compared to that elephant woman’s. Being at the clinic always makes me feel vulnerable. ‘Thanks for being here, Huw.’
‘We’re not in the Dark Ages, cariad. Even busy professors are allowed to accompany their wives to scans.’
‘I did ask Mama to come but she didn’t feel up to it.’
‘The Merry Widow’s not up for much, is she?’
‘Bit harsh, Huw. Michael’s only been gone ten days.’
He puts down his magazine – an old What Car? ‘I know. Sorry. It’s just the atmosphere at home’s a bit Miss Havisham.’
The young couple sitting opposite us are eavesdropping. The girl’s unblemished. She looks about seventeen. Her hair’s in a ponytail, for God’s sake. The poor boyfriend. Her fresh skin and cute tits will soon be distant memories.
I lower my voice. ‘Jesus, Huw, it’s not like you’re home much. I’m the one who’s coping with it.’
I’m really trying to be nice and stay in patch-things-up mode, but God, it’s hard.
The elephant woman waddles out, all eyes on her humungous arse, and the midwife calls out, ‘Laura Ellis!’
In the tiny room, I climb inelegantly onto the bed. Huw stares at the ceiling while the sonographer puts the cold jelly on my stomach, but then the cliché of the baby on the screen works its magic and we both gaze at it, transfixed. All is apparently as it should be: head circumference, spinal column, etc. I’ve had a lot of pregnancies, but none of them, apart from Evie, of course, made it anywhere near this far. The technology since her scan doesn’t seem to have moved on; you still need someone to point out which of the fuzzy blobs are the head and the arms. But then, unexpectedly, the angle changes and there, clear as anything, are a pair of tiny feet, soles facing us, ten stubby toes. My eyes fill with tears. I wish Huw were happy about this baby. Wish he felt the same as twelve years ago, when we came out of the hospital clutching Evie’s scan picture, awash with disbelief and joy. He took me to a jewellery shop and bought me an eternity ring. Beautiful, it was; gold with tiny emeralds right round the band. I suppose it’s kind of symbolic that I’ve lost it.
‘Did you want to know the sex?’ the sonographer asks.
‘Yes!’ I say, at the same moment as Huw says, ‘No, thanks.’
She says, ‘Ohh-kay. I’ll let you discuss it for a moment,’ and goes out.
‘Why not, Huw? We found out for Evie.’
‘There’s so few mysteries in life, aren’t there? It’d be nice if it was a surprise.’
‘Oh, how lovely!’ I hug him. Maybe he is looking forward to the baby after all.
‘Yuck!’ He pulls away. ‘You’ve got jelly all over my shirt.’
Walking out to the car park, Huw puts his arm round my shoulder and I feel as if we are like that fresh young couple, just starting out.
‘Don’t suppose there’s any chance of us getting a quick coffee?’ I ask.
‘Would love to, cariad, but we ought to get home. I want to grab a shower before heading back to work. We’re taking a visiting professor out to dinner tonight.’
‘Can you at least drive me to church and wait while I speak to Father Davies?’
Huw looks at his watch before saying, ‘Yes, that should be okay.’
Yes, it fucking should, I say in my head.
>
Outside the church, Huw leaves the engine running. ‘You might as well turn that off,’ I tell him. ‘We’re not doing an armed robbery.’
He sighs, and turns it off.
I’m barely through the door of the church before I have to stop and hold on to the back of a pew as a sudden wave of tummy pain washes over me. It passes quickly but leaves me feeling shaken. Maybe the scanning equipment’s done something?
There’s a four-bar heater blazing in Father Davies’ little office, in sharp contrast to the cold of the church. He takes my hand. ‘Laura, I was so sorry to hear about the loss of your stepfather.’
‘Thank you.’ I sit down and face him across the desk.
‘So how are you doing, Laura, in yourself? How’s the baby?’ He smiles at me.
‘I’m fine, really. Baby’s fine too, touch wood.’ I briefly rest my hand on his desk. God knows why, it’s not one of my superstitions. ‘My mum’s not doing so well, of course.’
‘Well, that’s natural.’
‘Yes.’ It’s terribly hot. I take off my coat and scarf. ‘The funeral was weird. I saw Melissa and Daniel again, you know, my step-family, for the first time in years. And I used to be in love with Daniel and he was a bit funny with me, and he’s got a ton of kids, anyway that’s not relevant, but we had a Jewish funeral and there are so many rules and I ended up being rude to his wife even though she was asking for it.’
I take off my cardigan. How can he stand it in here? It’s a sodding sauna.
Father Davies looks down at his hands. ‘Would it be useful if I heard your confession now, Laura? It seems there is a great deal going on for you.’
‘Oh, no, Father, sorry, Huw’s waiting outside. I just wanted to ask if you’d be kind enough to say a prayer for my stepfather on Sunday?’
‘Of course.’ He rummages in a drawer, hands me a piece of paper and an old-fashioned fountain pen. ‘Please fill in these details, and I’ll take it from there.’
