by Liann Snow
The other thing that Don does, is, sometimes, when United play down here, he goes to the home ground of whichever London team they're playing, and watches that game. Apart from that, he keeps up to date with their doings by reading the back pages of the paper. He never goes abroad to follow them, like some do. Even when they were in the European Cup competition, he didn't try to do that. I'm glad of that, you have to draw the line somewhere and it would have taken far too much out of the household budget. He's still got his head screwed on, I'm glad to say – family first with football a very close second.
It's funny to think back on it now, but when he first started supporting United I was worried. I was more than worried, to be honest, because, for one thing, I'd never heard of someone changing from the team that they'd always supported since they were a boy, and secondly, I had a funny feeling, a sort of physical feeling of upset about it. As if a very wrong thing was happening and I didn't know what.
And then, unexpectedly, I got over it. I realised it was good for Phil, for a start, to see his little brother on a regular basis, and I suppose I got used to having a little bit of time to myself. Not that I do anything in particular with that time, and not that I feel any less a wife or a mother for that matter being left to myself like that. (Carol still makes her presence felt.) But I do definitely feel a little more like myself as an individual person, and that is quite a nice feeling. It's only now and then that I feel differently about his going off every couple of weeks. Might feel a bit down then. I get over it though, soon enough. And he's back before you know it anyway. It's not worth making a fuss about. Just make sure I've got a nice hot water bottle to take to bed, keep me nice and cosy.
= CHAPTER 2 =
Saturday, February 12. AM
Oh my God! It's her! I can't believe it! Pearl will have to serve her. I just can't do it. "Pearl! Pearl!" (Thank God she's in today!) Oh for Heaven's sake, where is she?
Pearl appears from the back of the shop. She walks coolly past Faith and takes up her usual position behind the glass display counter. Pearl looks alert and friendly as always when a customer appears.
One of the women that Faith saw last Saturday, the older of the two, pushes open the plate glass door and enters the shop. She has a preoccupied frown on her face. She is wearing the same denim jacket that she wore when Faith saw her before. (This time it is buttoned-up to the neck against the chillier weather.)
"Can I help you, madam?" says Pearl.
"How much are those little cakes in the window?"
"Which ones? The Eccles cakes are –"
"No, the ones with red hearts on the –"
"The Valentine cakes."
"Right."
"Oh, yes. They're lovely aren't they?" says Pearl. "They're a new line, very romantic. Two forty nine each."
"That's a lot, they're only small. Still, they're nice. I'll take one."
"Which message would you like, 'For My beloved Husband' or –"
"No, the – uh… 'For My Darling' one. That'll do fine."
"Very pretty. Thank you madam, I'll just get your change." Pearl busied herself at the till.
The other woman wasn't blushing, in fact she was as white as a sheet, but Faith detected extreme embarrassment just the same as she quickly took the bulky little paper bag Pearl handed to her, pocketed the change and left the shop. Not having given Faith a glance.
"Were you teasing her Pearl? 'For Your Husband' and all?"
"Of course not. Who am I to judge? Any woman can get married. Not only the beautiful ones."
That's when I knew with blinding clarity that my friend Pearl and myself were cut from quite different cloth; our fundamental worldviews were totally incompatible. You see, to me, that woman who had just left the shop, was an icon of attractiveness, while to Pearl she was almost pitiably plain. Beauty being, as they say, very much in the eye of the beholder. I knew too that Pearl had not the slightest inkling that her most recent customer was a lesbian. That most intriguing fact being completely remote from Pearl's consciousness.
"She probably would have been wearing a ring, Pearl, if she was married, but never mind. Thanks for coming in today, I know it's your day off really. Was your husband all right about it?"
"Well, yes he was, it means more money doesn't it? You know we're saving to go back home for a while. We have to sort out some family matters. I can't do it every week though, you know. Someone must see to the kids."
"Yes, well, it's only till we get some help. Owen is advertising for someone."
"He's not paying enough, Faith, that's what I think."
"You and me both, Pearl, but he won't be told, so we just have to carry on regardless."
"Is he only wanting a Saturday worker?"
"Yes. And we do need one. Believe it or not Pearl, it's usually much busier than this at weekends. I think people aren't coming out today 'cause it's so cold."
"I wouldn't come out if I didn't have to."
"Me neither, Pearl. But anyway, as you're here, maybe you wouldn't mind finishing up for me just this once. I have to get to the shops before they close."
"Tesco's will still be open."
"It's not Tesco's I want. I have to do some special shopping, for Valentine's Day!"
"You celebrate Valentine's Day? I didn't dream you were so romantic."
"Well, not usually, but I thought I would for a change. I don't suppose Don will think of it, but never mind. It'll be fun making the effort."
"I think you were inspired by our romantic customer Faith, but anyway, you go off whenever you like. You know I don't mind. Some day you might do me a favour in return. Why not take one of these little cakes with you? They're really very pretty and we've still got nearly a dozen left."
"I will, just to please you, Pearl, but Don'll have to eat it, they're far too sweet for me. Don't worry, though. Valentine's Day isn't till Monday, so we've still got time to shift the rest. I bet we do, too. You're such a good saleswoman, Pearl, I reckon you could sell them all by yourself! Anyway, I'll get off now and see you next week. Enjoy the rest of the weekend."
"And you. Have a romantic time."
"I won't even see Don till Sunday evening, but still, never mind, look on the bright side. Bye for now."
"Bye. Bye."
~ ~ ~
How thrilling – Valentine's Day on Monday! That woman bought her special someone a cake, (her "Darling" I should say). Well, now I've got Don a cake too! I can buy him a card as well, and if that shop down the road is still open, which it probably is, I can get something else that will definitely give him something to think about. We haven't bothered for years,(well you don't, do you, after a while), so he'll be all the more impressed when he sees what I've got for him. A real romantic package wrapped up in red ribbons. Better make sure Carol doesn't see anything though, she'll think I'm really stupid.
~ ~ ~
Faith is sitting alone on the marital bed looking at herself in the mirror on the heavy old-fashioned dressing table. Faith has very dark wavy hair and very white skin. Her teeth are very white too. Her plump lips are very red. Faith is wearing a satin bra and satin panties. The satin is as red as her lips. Faith takes up the kind of pose she often sees in the newspapers Don brings home. It is an attractive sight, but Faith is far from happy.
I don't know, I do wish he hadn't gone this time. Obviously I don't begrudge him his pleasures, of course I don't, but, just the same. I don't know what it is, but the more I tried to convince Pearl that I didn't mind, the more I realised that I did. I think the trouble was, she was trying so hard to understand, that it became painfully obvious that her life is totally different from mine. She's got her whole family around her, who clearly hate being parted from her for a moment, and who'd never even let her out of their sight if they didn't need the money she brings in.
And me, what have I got? A husband who loves football at least as much as he loves me; and a daughter who scarcely speaks to me (or to him, for that matter). And who spends her entire time
either asleep or watching endless TV in her room, or, when she's not in her room, is forever on the telephone to who knows who. That of course is when she is home, because she isn't always. And I can't even begin to guess where she is when she isn't. And I even try to not try to guess. (So as to avoid invading her privacy.) Because, even though she still does have some rather childish ways, she is in fact sixteen and a quarter, so is not entirely a child anymore. (Well I wasn't at her age anyway, even though no one seemed to notice that, or recognise my need for privacy or respect me as a human being with my own identity, although I didn't have the confidence to put myself over fully and completely at that age.)
So I must admit I do end up spending quite a lot of time and energy trying not to think about the whereabouts and goings on of daughter Carol, as well as a few other quite different, difficult things that do get rather nastily on my nerves from time to time.
I don't suppose, on the other hand, things like that bother Don in the slightest.
Oh! I don't know why I bought these silly things now! He'll only make fun of me! The cake is bad enough, but the lingerie, he might not take it in the spirit that it's meant...And the card, well, they didn't have a very big selection, did they? Of cards, I mean. I should have gone somewhere else though, really. I wanted something really old-fashioned and sloppy. I thought that would be easy to get but all they had were stupid joke ones, like this one, which isn't even funny. I wish I could change it really, but it's too late now, bloody shops are shut.
Anyway if he doesn't like it, more fool him, he ought to like it. Anyway, I've written on it now, so that's that! Anyway, it's the thought that counts. And anyway, he won't have got me anything at all, so he should be grateful for all the trouble I've gone to.
Oh. I wish he would like it, especially the underwear. I'm not too old for it, am I? Anyway I'm getting cold now. Better take it off and get my nightie on. Might even have a hot water bottle tonight, I think it's getting chilly again.
Sunday, February 13
"Carol, is there anything special you want from the shop? Any special veggie stuff?"
"You going to Tesco's?"
"Of course. Who else will go if I don't? Hurry up! I can't stand here forever. It's cold in this hall. Why don't you come down and talk to me?"
"Mum, I'm doing my homework."
"All right. Do you need anything special?"
"No!"
"Remember you said that, when you can't find anything in the fridge."
Doing her homework? That's a new one. Oh well, leave her to it. Might even be true, you never know with Carol. Better get going; it's not far off closing time, it's not open a full day on Sundays.
~ ~ ~
It's a godsend to be able to shop on Sundays if you work all or most of the week like I do. I don't suppose it suits the staff though, not all of them anyway. Some of them look really fed up. Wonder if they get a choice. Hope they get more choice than I do, working all day Saturday without overtime. I used to have to do the weekly shop on my day off, but that made me feel like I never had a proper break. By Thursday, I must admit, the last thing I felt like doing was looking at the inside of a shop, unless it was a swanky fashion shop up West and I had a bit of spare money in my purse. (A rare enough event, that's for sure.) Now, where's that list I wrote?
Oh my God, there she is again right by the check out! I can't believe it, she's everywhere I look now! Heaven's, she's got a huge bottle of champagne in her basket, sticking out in all its glory! Haven't had any of that since Carol was born.
No! I can't let her go like this, I've got to get after her. (But I haven't got my shopping yet.) Whoops, she's leaving already. That was quick! Through the automatic doors she goes. Damn the shopping! I've got to go too. (Don't ask me why!) Got to keep her in sight, see where she goes. It's alright, they'll see I'm not carrying anything.
Now where's she going? I hope it's not far, I've got to get back before the shop shuts. Still, at least she's not heading for the bus stop. Wouldn't know where I was going then and anyway, might be a bit difficult keeping an eye on her in a bus queue without being spotted. I'm not sure she saw me yesterday in the shop though, and even if she did she might not recognise me and even if she did recognise me so what? I can go out in my own neighbourhood can't I? No call to accuse me of following anyone... Still, best keep a low profile, as they say.
Doesn't look back does she? So self-confident, striding along with a spring in her step. Swinging her carrier bag as if it contained nothing at all instead of a big heavy bottle of champers and whatever else goodies she bought.
Whoops! She's turning off here, nearly missed it, a short, pretty road of only about a dozen houses on each side. Not far at all. No wonder she's always popping up. What fun, we're neighbours. Oh, there she goes, key in the lock, nudging the door open, and now she's inside.
And I'm outside.
~ ~ ~
Well, bit of an anticlimax that! After all that following and spying and snooping; ending up here again back in Tesco's getting the shopping in just like it's an ordinary Sunday instead of being the day I had an adventure, as well as being the day before the supposedly most romantic day of the year.
Must admit, I feel quite a bit let down, though I don't know what else exactly I expected. It wasn't as if she was likely to turn around, greet me joyfully like a long-lost lover, and drag me in for a cup of tea or a fizzing glass of bubbly, was it?
What to do now, though, to stave off the twinges of disappointment that, I must admit, I'm already starting to feel? I'll have to do something to cheer myself up, Don will be back soon and he won't want to see a gloomy face.
I know, I'll get her a card too! Look! They've got loads of different cards here. I didn't even know they sold them. I could even get a different one for Don, but then again, why should my absent husband always benefit from my generosity? No, someone else can for a change. Ah, look, she can have this nice soppy romantic one. I'm sure she'd appreciate this more than Don would appreciate any card I bothered to get him, even if I stood here for an hour trying to choose the perfect one.
Anyway, it'll be anonymous and that's much more like what is supposed to happen on Valentine's Day. Anonymous cards dropping onto doormats, declaring unrequited love from a mystery admirer, are much more in the spirit of the thing.
It's too late to send it now, but I can take it round later when it's dark, and put it in her letterbox. I'll have to be really quiet so she doesn't hear me. And if she does hear me and comes to the door, I'll just have to run like hell, which I'm sure I still can do even if I am nearly thirty-seven and too old for that sort of thing, or this sort of thing for that matter. Still, she's as old as I am, at least, and she bought champagne and a soppy Valentine cake so it can't be that out of order. Though of course, she didn't buy any of it for me.
But anyway, it's just a bit of fun. Nobody will see me, and no one will ever know and it won't matter. It'll just be my secret; a very nice secret too, to remember from time to time, and no harm will have been done to anyone.
Now, I better get this shopping home, get back out again pretty sharpish, and nip over to her place and be back before Don gets home. If I don't I'm going to have a bit of a red face explaining what I've been up to. Or should I go straight there with the shopping as well and deliver the card and – oh, I can't. I haven't got a pen to write on it with.
Stick to my original plan then, just be as quick as I can.
~ ~ ~
Done! And no one heard me fiddling around at her letterbox. No need to run away after all. Oh, but the adrenaline was pumping; made me feel glad to be alive. I could have run a mile in a minute if necessary. As it was I carried out my plan to the letter and nothing at all went wrong. Wow! I can see the point of being an undercover agent now, always having a secret agenda and having to be daring and assess the odds and take the risk no matter what. I imagine a top class gambler might feel like this too, or a master criminal. Maybe I ought to give up shop work and get a job in the unde
rworld. (I could be a daredevil getaway driver if only I could drive.)
But Don is here already. I thought he might be. Damn! (Never mind, I'll think of something, I'm a master of deception now!)
~ ~ ~
"Hallo, darling. I'm home."
"Where've you been? I'm starving!"
"Oh! I went up the launderette and, you'd never believe it, one of the machines went haywire with water and suds everywhere and the poor women there were going crazy like headless chickens. And everyone had to rally round – and I had to help them out with the mop and bucket and everything."
"I must say you live a life jam-packed with adventure, Faith."
