by Beth Miller
‘Well, that’s great.’ It’s definitely Moses – there’s the ten commandments – but why has he got a cross in his hand?
‘Laura, I want you to know that I trust Dan-Dan completely.’
So they have discussed me. ‘Oh. Okay. Right. Well, that’s good.’ It’s not a cross, I see now, but a staff. Moses had a staff, didn’t he?
‘It’s so important, don’t you think, that a wife can fully trust her husband?’ and she whispers the next bit, so that, afterwards, I’m not completely sure I heard right. ‘Do you trust yours?’
‘Um, sure.’ I stare at the Moses drawing until the staff turns into a penis, and I pray to any deity of whatever faith to open up the ground and get me the fuck out of there. Luckily, one child snatches a crayon from another, and an almighty wail goes up, allowing me to escape.
I have a long bath, and ponder how the conversation between her and Danny might have gone after he kissed me.
Danny: I’m sorry, Hella, I’ve tried so hard to resist, but I’m in torment.
Heifer: It’s all right, darling; I give you my blessing.
Danny: Seriously?
Heifer: I know how incredibly, unbelievably lucky I am to have you. I can’t compete with her. Do what you have to do. I’ll always take you back.
Danny: A night with her and will I want to come back?
Heifer: I’ll risk it.
I do my hair and make-up, and remove every single bit of stubble from my chin. Then I take from my wardrobe the world’s most beautiful maternity dress, borrowed from Ceri’s sister Rhianna. Deep-red silk, very flattering, very low-cut. You might remember it from my dream. Teamed with a necklace which plunges into my cleavage like an arrow, and my black shoes, the highest I can manage with my dodgy centre of gravity, I look like a pregnant Sophia Loren. I haven’t looked this good in months. I could give that stupid blonde a run for her money.
On the dot of six, I knock on Miffy’s door. She looks surprised and not all that pleased. I say quickly, ‘Listen, Miff, I know you probably don’t need help, but I’m bored and you’ve been rushing around all day. I thought you could use a bit of pampering.’
She rakes her hand through her hair. ‘Oh, go on, then. You look sensational. Let’s see if you can make me look half as good as you do.’
She does need my help. She’s wearing her glasses, her hair’s frizzy and her cheeks are flushed and blotchy. She looks much more like the Miffy I knew as a child, and I feel a rush of warmth for her.
‘Don’t worry, honey, I can help you look sensational too.’
She sits on the bed, lights a cigarette. ‘Need a fag first. Bit of a busy day.’
‘I thought there were fire alarms up here.’
She points to the ceiling, where a smoke detector dangles from its wires.
‘You naughty girl!’
She blows a spool of smoke sideways, and gestures to a pile of clothes on the chair. ‘Go on, then. Choice of three. I can’t decide.’
I smooth the satiny black material of a full-skirted dress, then pick up a lilac shift dress of soft linen. Size eight. The cow.
She goes to take a shower, cigarette still in hand. I get to work, plugging in her straightening irons and sorting through her clothes and make-up. When she returns, wrapped in towels, I hold up the third dress, an emerald green halter-neck.
‘Green was always good on you. It’ll be perfect with these strappy sandals.’
‘Fine. I’m in your hands.’ She drops her towel, and puts on her dressing-gown. I’m half turned away, but I get a glimpse of a long taut body. Mine was like that once, long ago. She faces the dressing-table mirror while I straighten her hair, and I watch her as she relaxes, chatters about the party, the people she’s looking forward to seeing after her year away. I should have been a beautician. People open up to me. I think of how she blushed yesterday when she said how excited she was about the party, and I take a punt, say, ‘So are you going to tell me his name?’
Her head jerks up, and she stares at me in the mirror. ‘Did Amy tell you?’
I smile, shake my head.
‘Of course. I’d forgotten this was your speciality. Boy stuff.’ She lets out a deep breath, or a sigh. ‘Rob. Old college friend of Amy’s.’
She’s blushing again, her cheeks on fire. She used to do fabulous whole-body blushes, did little Miffy. So, not quite as grown-up and in control as she seems.
‘He does development work, spends half the year in Africa. Somalia. I, uh, met up with him while I was travelling.’
I raise my eyebrows, and she waves a hand at me.
‘Nothing much happened.’ She lights another cigarette. ‘We’d both just separated from our partners. Bit raw. But, you know. We got on really well.’
‘Oooh, this is so exciting!’
She grins. ‘I’m nervous as hell. I haven’t liked anyone this much since …’
‘Since your ex-husband?’
‘Ah, well, I’d known Jay for years. It wasn’t quite as romantic.’
‘How did you meet Jay?’
‘We knew each other as children. You’ve met him too, Laura.’
‘I have?’ I can’t think. ‘When? Was he at our school?’
‘No, he used to go to the shul in Edgware. Don’t you remember?’
I don’t remember all that much about her shul, apart from the plug-in heaters, and the excitement of seeing Danny.
‘I don’t think so. Hey, whatever happened to that blond rabbi, the one you liked?’
‘Ah, Aron? He was so lovely. Very kind. I don’t know; not long after my batmitzvah we changed shuls and I never saw him again.’
‘That’s a shame.’
‘Tell me about you. How did you meet the dishy Huw?’
‘Dishy?’ I giggle.
‘I know, I don’t think I’ve used the word since we were kids. It seems appropriate somehow. He is rather dishy. Such blue eyes!’
I turn her round so I can do her make-up. She tilts her face obediently towards me and I smooth on silver eyeshadow. Why hasn’t she got any lines?
‘Have you had Botox?’
‘Do I need it?’
‘No, not at all.’
‘Go on, tell me about Huw. Was it love at first sight?’
I’ve never told anyone the full story of how I got together with Huw. Ceri knows some of it, of course; she was a student with me at the time. But I’ve never felt close enough to her to discuss all the gory details.
‘The official version is that Huw was my lecturer and I was his student, and we fell in love and got married.’
Without missing a beat, she says, ‘And what’s the unofficial version?’
There’s a knock at the door and Amy sticks her head in.
‘Liss, some more of your relatives have turned up.’
Amy goes out, and I say, echoing Danny, ‘It’s a long story.’
‘How intriguing. In that case, we must make sure we get together for a proper chat very soon.’
For the first time, I feel she’s a little fascinated by me, the way she used to be. She gets up and dresses quickly. She looks fabulous. Glossy hair swishing down her back; shoulders and cleavage on display.
‘I’m so jealous.’ I watch her looking at herself in the mirror. ‘I’d give anything for a flat stomach.’
‘You’ll get it back, though, won’t you, once the baby’s born?’
I make a non-committal noise. My stomach wasn’t exactly flat before my pregnancy.
‘You were always so good at doing hair and make-up and stuff.’ Miffy tidies the clothes strewn over the bed. ‘I wonder you didn’t go into something artistic like that.’
‘I do the window displays at the shop sometimes, when Ceri lets me.’
‘It’s not too late. You could go to college when the baby’s older, do a design course.’
I nod, but know I never will. Nice idea. Maybe I would have, if someone like Miffy had been there at the right time, encouraging me.
We go into the
corridor together. I’m about to head up to the top floor to find Evie, when Miffy puts her hand on my arm.
‘Hey, Laura.’ She gives me a thousand-volt smile. ‘Thanks. Appreciate it.’
I can’t find a soft drink. Every time I spot a bottle and thrust my arm through a group of people to reach it, it’s wine or vodka. I haven’t been to a party this rammed since I was a student, and I’ve certainly never been to one with such a weird mix. Miffy and Amy’s friends in designer clothes mingle with Heifer’s dark-tented relatives. Ordinary children run about with Orthodox girls in ankle-length skirts, boys with long curls round their ears. Whenever someone new arrives you hear a cry of ‘Lissa!’ and there’s a flash of emerald green, a swish of golden hair, as they fling their arms round each other.
My mobile rings in my bag, and I edge into a utility room that leads off the kitchen.
‘Hey, cariad.’
‘Huw! I’ve been trying to get you all day.’
‘Didn’t get a sec to call. Devolution shit’s hit the fan. Half the faculty aren’t speaking to the other half. How’s the party?’
A fat man in a loud orange shirt comes in. ‘Sorry!’ he booms, pushing past me. ‘Just looking for the Chablis Melissa hid in the cupboard.’
I turn my back and mutter into the phone, ‘Okay. Don’t know anyone. Evie’s off with the other kids the whole time. And Heifer keeps patting my hand like I’m a fucking widow.’
‘She just wants to make sure you won’t swear at her. You’ll be okay; you love parties.’
‘Ah ha!’ Orange Shirt says, pulling out a bottle. ‘Oh good, screw-lid.’ He takes a swig and lurches over, fills up the empty glass in my hand, and says, ‘Nice dress.’ Then he puts his hand on my stomach – I’m too slow to stop him – and says, ‘Hello, baby. Your mummy is a well fit MILF.’
I shove him away. ‘Get off!’
‘Find me when you’re off the phone, okay?’ He weaves out, leaving the door open, letting in a blast of party noise.
‘Christ on a bike! Some fat wanker just touched my tummy and called me a MILF!’
Huw laughs. ‘Sounds like a wild party. Sorry I’m not there.’
‘He was horrible.’ I sit down on a folding chair next to the tumble drier.
‘Rotten, cariad. You keep away from nasty fat men, you hear? Okay, better go, professors can’t be kept waiting.’
I’m not exactly psychologically ready, but I jump straight in; if only so I can tell Miffy I asked him. ‘Huw, is it the same professor from the other week?’
‘The what? I can’t hear you. Is that the noise from the party? Sounds like a complete rave.’
‘The important one who’ll put you on the map. Professor Hartfield?’
‘That’s right.’
‘I was just wondering if there are ever any, you know, women professors?’
‘Well, sure.’ He sounds very far away, as if he is at the bottom of the ocean.
I gulp my wine. ‘Blonde ones?’
‘I can’t hear you, Laura. Did you say blonde? Fuck’s sake, what is this? I don’t fancy them! They’re all your classic blue stockings. Most of them are about ninety.’
‘I didn’t say anything about you fancying them.’
‘You didn’t have to. I know you. Go, have a good time. Bye.’
I click the phone off and go back into the kitchen, squeezing past crowds of people, clutching the glass of wine as a kind of prop, keeping an eye out for the fat orange pervert. I move into the hall and an oddly familiar voice says flatly, ‘Why Laura, how utterly delightful.’
To my horror I am face to face with Andrea Cline. She looks much as I remember her, apart from a lot more wrinkles. Same sour face, hair the exact vibrant auburn as before. Still keeping her colourist busy.
‘You’re looking very, uh, striking,’ she says, with a brittle smile.
‘You too. Your hair looks amazing.’ I try to give the word ironic emphasis, but she pats her hair in a self-satisfied manner.
‘I was so surprised when Melissa told me she’d invited you.’ She sways abruptly, catching hold of my arm to steady herself. I realise she’s completely drunk.
‘Yes, I was surprised too. But very pleased.’
‘Did you know I’ve remarried? He’s over there, my lovely new husband.’ She waves vaguely. ‘One husband door closes, another opens, you know.’
‘Good. Well, nice to see you.’ I turn, but she holds on tight, her fingers digging into my flesh, a terrifying skeleton come to life.
‘Have you seen my engagement ring?’ She holds up her bony hand to show off a Liz Taylor-size diamond. ‘Bit nicer than the last one, everyone says.’
‘Amazing what they can do with cubic zirconia these days.’ Zing! Feels good to get my mojo back a little.
She lets out a humourless laugh. ‘Oh, yes, same old Laura Morente with her hilarious observations.’ She brings her face close to mine. ‘I can’t believe you’d have the sheer brass front to come here.’
‘Melissa and Daniel specifically invited me. Could you let go of me, please?’
‘Melissa and Daniel had such a guilt trip laid on them by their sentimental old fart of a father, they felt they had no option but to invite you to their family party. Can you imagine he’d be so silly? Though, of course, he does have previous on being silly.’
‘Don’t we all.’ I try to shake her off but she is a leech, a limpet.
‘Well, you’d certainly know about that. By the way’ – she mimes an enormous stomach – ‘is that a baby, or have you put on a ton of weight?’
‘I need to go, Andrea. I need the loo.’
‘I always felt sorry for poor old Michael, God rest his soul. Suspect his last years weren’t very happy. Still, that’s what comes from following your dick.’
I grit my teeth and raise my voice. ‘Andrea, let me go; I have to piss!’
Taking advantage of her slight surprise, I pull my arm away and move quickly to the door. She calls after me, ‘You will give my very best to your mother, won’t you? Do tell her I’m so pleased that everything’s worked out.’
I do a massive wee in the downstairs toilet and then creep along to the kitchen, which is full of strangers talking and talking with big red mouths. I still can’t see any non-alcoholic drinks. Fuck it. I’m so thirsty. I drink half my wine in one go. I can see the indentation of Andrea’s fingers on my arm. I go into another room, keeping an eye out for her and Orange Pervert. They’re not there but I also can’t see anyone I know, so I turn to go out and – thank you, God – there’s Danny.
I stumble, spilling some wine on the carpet, and he steadies me.
‘You okay?’
‘Not really. I just had an encounter with your mother.’
‘Oh dear.’ He laughs, but kindly. ‘You look shell-shocked. What did she say?’
His laughing makes me feel better.
‘Nothing, really. Do you know if there’s somewhere quiet to sit? I feel a bit strange.’ This isn’t a fib.
‘Sure. There’s a room here. Let me help you.’ He holds his favourite part of my body, my elbow, and guides me along the corridor.
It’s a small room compared to the others – meaning it’s as big as the ground floor of my house – and less crowded, just one or two couples, and a group of people standing chatting. I sink into a sofa, leaving a hinting space next to me, but Danny takes a hard-backed chair to the side. Still, the bright side is he’s at a good height for staring into my cleavage.
‘Are you having a nice time?’ I ask, so softly he has to lean forward to hear, making him look you know where. When he sits back up, he looks a little flustered. I shouldn’t think he’s ever seen such a sexy dress, not with Heifer single-handedly keeping Millets in business. My mind races. This weekend’s already been so weird, I’m just going to say it. This might be my only chance. Come on now, Laura. Be assertive. Say what you want, Miffy said. She meant to Huw, but still.
I take a deep breath. ‘Shall we talk about what happened yester
day?’
‘Laura,’ Danny says, glancing round the room. ‘Maybe there are things best left unsaid.’
‘You were the one who said it was good to get things out in the open.’ I smile. ‘Did your rabbi change his mind?’
An old bag in a British Homes Stores outfit sits down next to me and starts talking to her friends about her episiotomy. Can’t she see we’re in a conversation? She’s worse than that woman in Brief Encounter who spoils their last meeting. I close my eyes for a moment, and the silence between Danny and me stretches on and on.
‘Listen,’ he says at last, ‘I need to find Micah. Get the speeches going. Last I saw the kids they were watching films upstairs. Shall I check on Evie while I’m there?’
I struggle to my feet. ‘I’ll go, you can start rounding people up.’
‘You sure? Are you feeling all right?’ I can’t read the look on his face.
‘I’m fine now.’
At the top of the first flight I drink the remainder of my wine. Courage, mon brave! Then I slog up the second staircase, which leads to the kids’ rooms. The music and laughter from the party become fainter. I round the corner and see a couple kissing in a doorway. The boy is Micah Cline. His arm is snaked round the girl’s waist, one hand tilting her head back. The girl has her back to me. She seems a grown woman in a short black skirt and it takes my brain a moment to register that it’s Evie.
They’re so focused on each other they don’t see me dart back down the stairs. I stumble in my high shoes and grab the banister so hard I nearly dislocate my arm. I stay on the first floor landing for a while, smiling absently at people who pass, pointing them to the bathroom. When my legs have stopped shaking, I go back up. Micah and Evie have disappeared. I knock anxiously on the only closed door, but there’s a chorus of ‘Come in!’ All the children are there, lounging on the floor watching television. Micah’s sitting with his arm round Evie, but he moves it when he sees me. When I tell them it’s time for the speeches, he gets up obediently, and the others troop after him. Evie turns off the film and gives me a shy smile before following.
Downstairs, I look in at the quiet room. Danny’s not there any more, but Miffy is sitting in a corner, talking intently to a beautiful fair man in a grey shirt. For a confused moment I think it’s that rabbi from when we were kids, Rabbi Aron, then I realise it must be Rob.
