The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife

by Gill Davy-Bowker

  ‘Oh, hi,’ they replied in a non-committal tone. Briony’s children (Gabriel aged eight and Jupiter aged four) were hiding behind their mother. Both were dressed in dark, weed-like clothes so they were almost completely camouflaged in the twilight behind the equally darkly-dressed adults. Realising that she was unlikely to entice any further conversation or even basic grunting from them, she beamed as amiably and brightly as possible to demonstrate that she was not the ‘enemy’, but they didn’t seem convinced. She almost heard the snarling as she passed them on her way into the hall. Amy and Michael came bursting back into the house and tried to involve Gabriel and Jupiter in their game, but their cousins just gazed agog at Mel’s children as if they had gone stark raving mad. Jupiter resembled a young Karl Marx, or rather, not so much young as short. Very serious was Jupiter. Mel could imagine him writing the Communist Manifesto and Gabriel could easily pass for a Stalin in the making. It really was quite chilling. They both went and sat down on the floor of the teepee and picked up their current reading material, i.e. Animal Farm and The Conditions of The Working Class in England (the abridged picture book version of Engel’s influential work, of course). They settled down comfortably to read in the light of wind-up lanterns. So, she decided to join her parents for the sherry they were offering. She didn’t normally drink sherry, but as it was the only alcoholic beverage on offer, she couldn’t be picky! Amy and Michael followed her and had some milk and biscuits while Briony and Zeus lurked in the hallway. Ah, that was better. Everything looked a bit brighter and less challenging after four glasses of sherry. Briony, Zeus, Gabriel and Jupiter joined Mel, Mel’s parents and children in the living room at last and there appeared to be a state of uneasy truce for the moment.

  ‘I’ve put you in the Blue Room, Mel. Amy and Michael can have the two attic rooms. I hope that’s all right?’ said her mum.

  ‘Aw … thank you! That’s very kind. The Blue Room is my old room, isn’t it?’ slurred Mel. Crikey, this sherry was damn strong stuff. She’d have to find out the brand for future reference! She might consider joining the sherry-drinking brigade before her time. It gave everything such a rosy, cosy glow. She hardly noticed the dark, meaningful exchanges between Zeus and Briony ….hardly.

  Jupiter was still breastfeeding at the age of four but Briony said that she had done the same with Gabriel and that children feel more secure when they come off the breast of their own accord. Mel cringed when she thought of Jupiter’s mouth full of sharp teeth, but ‘each to their own’, she reasoned. She just couldn’t look, to be honest, because it not only appeared excruciatingly painful, but also quite weird. Amy and Michael couldn’t help but stare and Mel decided it was best to try to get them to bed before embarrassment occurred. She had just started up the stairs when she heard Briony say, ‘Well, the children will turn out to be just like their parents. Always searching for succour and approval in their salaries rather than in themselves and their relationships. My children are free spirits! Their characters and needs dictate their bedtime, not the clock!’

  Mel decided to ignore this comment. At least Amy and Michael smiled most of the time. Briony’s children resembled anaemic bats in their black clothes. If you asked her, they spent too much of their young lives with their noses in very child-unfriendly books. Mel wondered if Briony’s children ever tore up a bedroom or spat all over the carpet like Amy or rolled around with a plastic axe like Michael. Mel wasn’t sure if these were enviable attributes but the traits seemed more normal in child behaviour than the sulking, black, serious silence which emanated from their cousins. Then she reprimanded herself. She should really be more charitable. Briony’s children were just different to hers, that’s all. No, she would not sink to the depths as her sister had done and enter into a competition over their children. Briony obviously felt insecure and that was why she felt she had to criticise Mel and her child-rearing skills.

  ‘I expect you think I’m insecure, Melanie? Don’t you? Well, let me assure you that I am very happy with my lot and would never dream of prostituting myself and my family to global capitalism and all its evils!’ proclaimed Briony after Mel had settled the children. Mel didn’t really know how to answer. Whatever she might say was bound to be misinterpreted whether deliberately or subconsciously by her sister.

  ‘Could I have another sherry please, Dad? Or do you have any gin and tonic?’ Mel smiled at her sister and received a grimace in return.

  ‘So what has your banker husband been doing recently?’ Briony needled, nudging Zeus. She almost spat out this question and Mel was rather surprised that she hadn’t used a rude term which rhymed with ‘banker’ as an epithet for her husband. ‘On my last march,’ continued Briony, ‘I was talking with some very interesting people. People who know the inside operations of Ponsonby and Tosser Bank. It doesn’t sound very wholesome to me. Zeus and I were informed on good authority that the “bubble is about to burst”!’ Zeus and Briony appeared nothing short of gleeful to be imparting such information.

  Zeus stroked his beard thoughtfully as the children nestled under his black voluminous sleeves. ‘Yes. We were also talking with some women. They seem to have met you. Maybe you remember them? Names of Sophie, Tracey and Felicity? They say that they met you and your drunken friend in Brighton about two months ago. Ring any bells?’

  Sophie, thought Mel … Oh yes! She remembered. Sophie was one of the huge, brick shit-house-sized lesbians who had carried the inebriated Kelly to the car in Brighton that day.

  How on earth had they managed to establish the Kelly/Mel/Briony/Zeus connection? As if in answer, Briony informed her that they had been studying reconnaissance photos from the last anti-global capitalism protest and had recognised some people in the pictures. Briony looked very self-satisfied, as if she had caught her worst enemy in a very compromising position. She would say no more on the subject, however, preferring to let Mel suffer in her semi-ignorance. So Mel sank a gin and tonic and followed her mother into the kitchen to chat about something else.

  ‘How are things, Mum?’ asked Mel, relieved to be away from the pressure cooker of emotions at large in the other room.

  ‘Oh, marvellous, darling. It is lovely to have both my girls at home together. Just like the old days!’ Mum beamed. ‘I do wish you would stop arguing with your sister, you know. She is pregnant after all.’

  ‘I’m not arguing, Mum,’ said Mel. ‘The last thing I want to do, believe me, is to row with Briony, pregnant or not. Did Dad have a good trip to Algeria? When did he get back? I didn’t know Algeria had a lot of birds. Morocco yes, but Algeria?’ commented Mel.

  ‘Oh darling, of course he was birdwatching. What else would he be doing in Algeria? Joining the Foreign Legion?!’ laughed her mum.

  ‘Has he brought back any photos?’ asked Mel.

  ‘He hasn’t had any of them printed yet, but why don’t you ask him about it? He hasn’t told me that much so I’d like to hear more about it myself. Who are these ladies that you and Briony know?’ Mel’s mum was stirring coffee and cutting cake, arranging it on a lovely glass serving plate. She put out the Royal Doulton porcelain and covered each little cake plate with a doily.

  ‘Right,’ she continued. ‘Let’s go and sit at the dining table and have a nice little chat like we used to at supper when you were both small!’

  Dutifully, she sat down at the table with her parents, Briony, Zeus and their children. The atmosphere pulsated with tension, but Mel and her mum and dad were determined to make light of it.

  ‘So … how was Algeria, Dad?’ asked Mel, genuinely interested.

  ‘Oh, you know. Few rounds of golf with the natives. That sort of thing,’ replied her father, succinct as always.

  ‘How was the birdwatching?’ pursued Mel.

  ‘Birdwatching? There aren’t … Oh … Yes … The bird-watching! Yes. Marvellous. Lot of seagulls and crows,’ said her father, looking a bit hunted.

  ‘Crows and seagulls? Nothing unusual or fancy? No parrots or vultures?’ quizzed Mel.


  ‘Oh yes. Lots of parrots building tree-top nests. And the vultures were terrible for taking the tops off milk bottles, you know!’

  Now Mel didn’t know a lot about birds. She would be the first to admit to her very limited knowledge, but she was pretty sure that they didn’t have doorstep milk delivery in Algeria. And if they did, she wasn’t quite convinced that a dirty great vulture would be able to balance daintily on the top of a milk bottle like a blue tit and delicately peck away the top with its monstrous flesh-tearing beak. However, she tried her level best not to look as if she doubted the trustworthiness of the words her father spoke, which was more than Zeus and Briony could manage. Mel’s mum also seemed blissfully unaware that he appeared to be trying to pull the wool over their eyes. Mel wondered what her father had really been doing but didn’t think it wise to probe further. What if he was having some sort of affair? Why else would he be telling such preposterous lies? Mel noticed that his skin was very brown, so there appeared no doubt that he had spent some time somewhere rather hot and sunny, but the reasons for it didn’t add up. Mel’s dad had always been a bit of a mystery. He’d always told the family that he worked for Her Majesty’s Government, but he had never been explicit. Even when he had been put right on the spot to explain his work, as he had had to for Mel’s presentation at primary school, ‘What My Parents Do’, the job description varied rather a lot when compared to the one given to the mortgage people, even though he never applied for a new job or went for an interview as far as any of the family knew. Whilst Mel was pondering this, Briony’s children seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Mum had brought in some hot chocolate and toasted crumpets and Dad appeared relieved that the subject had been changed.

  ‘So ….how is the banking life?’ he asked. ‘Alan doing OK, is he?’

  ‘Oh yes. He has regained his interest in it recently. His boss came over from the States and injected new life into the place,’ affirmed Mel, attempting to put a positive lilt into her voice.

  ‘Hah!!’ exhorted Zeus.

  ‘Pardon?’ Mel was hoping that the explanation for this rude interruption might be simple. Maybe he was sneezing or was suffering from Tourette’s. Anything but what she knew to be the truth … that he was fully intending to be insulting, snide and full of derision. This family reunion was turning into a nightmare.

  Now she remembered why she had put so much distance both geographically and emotionally between her own nuclear family and the rest of her clan. Zeus had definitely not sneezed. He had meant ‘Hah!’ to be taken just the way it sounded and Briony was triumphantly and snidely giggling whilst looking down at the table top.

  Mel felt herself blush. She knew she was going to have to ask them what their problem was, but was aware that she would be accused of starting trouble as soon as she did so. Just then, her mobile rang. Alan was on the other end. He obviously hadn’t found the note she had left him to back up what she had told him several times during the weekend, explaining that she was going with the children to stay with her parents.

  ‘You’ve gone to stay with your parents?! How’s it going? Is your sister there?’ he asked warily. Alan and Briony had never got on.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Mel concisely, so that no one could work out what she was talking about.

  ‘Kids OK? How’re Briony’s charming offspring?’ asked Alan sarcastically.

  ‘Oh, you know … the usual.’ Briony and Zeus were watching Mel on the phone with interest.

  ‘Say hello to Alan for us, won’t you?’ smiled Briony.

  ‘Yes!’ agreed Zeus. ‘Ask him how the Middle East flower and botanicals markets are going.’

  ‘It’s all right, Mel. I heard them. There’s nothing to say. Just say “hello” for me. When are you coming home?’

  ‘Oh … soon. Sooner than soon maybe!’ replied Mel, for she was beginning to doubt that she had the strength to make it through the entire week without killing her sister and her know-all partner. Absence certainly made the heart grow fonder … She felt like falling into Alan’s arms and that he was her only friend in the whole world at this precise moment. At least there was something positive emerging from this misery!

  ‘So how is the pregnancy going?’ enquired Mel, in an attempt to change the subject. Briony could hardly be unpleasant in her reply to such a question and replied that it was going well.

  ‘I plan to have my next baby in the forest by moonlight. I’ve already given my midwife my complete birth plan. I shall have absolutely no pain relief and I have located a fabulously powerful ley line in our local woods,’ enthused Briony. Briony lived in a teepee in a field at the edge of a town. Mel could not recall any forest in her vicinity.

  Briony continued, ‘It’s not exactly a forest … It’s a small wooded area but it’s very discreet. The nearest house is about sixty metres away so I’m sure it’ll be all right. My baby has to be born on this ley line … It is her destiny. Actually we’re going to call her Destiny.’ Briony was quite animated and amiable now. It really was quite a pleasant relief to be in a conversation with no double meanings. For that reason, Mel told her sister how very lovely and appropriate the name of Destiny was. At last she received a smile from both Briony and Zeus. She wasn’t sure how well the primeval screams of a labouring woman would be received by the inhabitants of the neighbouring houses, which seemed at sixty metres’ distance to be rather too close for comfort, but who was she to put a dampener on her sister’s unusual sojourn into the land of the silly?

  ‘Are you sure you won’t need any pain relief?’ asked Mel. ‘I thought I’d get away with it when I had my first, but I was a total wimp I’m afraid. My birth plan had said “Absolutely no pain relief – even if I beg!” but when it came to it, I almost had to flatten Alan when he tried to stop me having an epidural. It was only because the midwife was so experienced and knew me personally that they ignored my birth plan in the end. I just thank God they did, that’s all. I didn’t make the same mistake twice, I can tell you!’ chirped Mel. As soon as she had finished, she knew that she’d said the wrong thing. Briony and Zeus were staring at her and if she had committed the ultimate sacrilege. So she attempted to joke herself out of the situation. ‘Honestly, it was like giving birth to a bowling ball … one of the heavier ones. I couldn’t walk for days afterwards!’

  She wasn’t doing herself any favours by carrying on in this vein. She began to wish the ground would open up and swallow her. Zeus placed a hand on Briony’s hand and with a self-satisfied smirk, said, ‘My Briony is an earth mother. She is … like … the perfect woman. Seth, our tribe shaman, believes that she is the reincarnation of the Pagan Goddess of Fertility.’

  ‘Oh, that’s nice, dear,’ said Mel’s mum.

  Mel thought it best to say no more on the subject, so she just smiled benignly and nodded in agreement, a bit like one of those nodding dogs in the rear window of a car.

  ‘Who wants a nice cup of tea?’ asked her father wisely.

  Next morning, Amy was finding butterflies in the garden. She wasn’t touching them or hurting them and it seemed to Mel to be an almost girly, peaceful and harmless thing to do. Mel sat in the garden watching her children running around enjoying themselves. It was all very idyllic and lovely until Gabriel and Jupiter emerged from the teepee and joined their cousins.

  ‘You are caging that poor creature’s spirit!’ shouted Gabriel. ‘He is a reincarnation and he will curse you for this!’

  Michael and Amy began to cry. ‘Is it true, Mummy!? Am I going to be cursed by the gods and nymphs and things because of all the insects I’ve played with?’

  Gabriel and Jupiter just stood there nodding vigorously. ‘You will be reincarnated as a nasty slug because of what you’ve done to these poor creatures! You will be a very horrible, slimy slug and people will try to kill you with poison every day and they will try to squash you and dry you out with salt! And even though you’ll be squashed and poorly, you’ll still be alive and never be allowed to die!’ threatened Gabriel gl
eefully.

  Amy wailed all the more while Mel tried to get through to her with some reason and sense.

  ‘Amy, that really won’t happen! Look at Mummy, darling! They’re just trying to frighten you. It’s all fairy stories. You know very well that there is no such thing as reincarnation.’ She wrapped her arms around Amy and Michael, trying to calm them from their near-hysterical state. When Amy, in particular, got to this point, it was extremely difficult to get through to her. She sobbed uncontrollably and her face was covered in snot and tears. She was hot and sweaty and red. Mel rocked her on her lap. Michael was calmer and tried to help by stroking his sister’s hair, while the cousins from hell just stood there looking very pleased with themselves.

  ‘Mum!’ shouted Gabriel. ‘Aunty Mel says that there’s no such thing as reincarnation, Mum!’

  ‘That’s just typical of you isn’t it, Mel?’ cried Briony. ‘You are always right aren’t you? No one else is allowed to have beliefs. Your only god is money, isn’t it? I know all about what your Alan’s been up to with that bank of his!’

  ‘What do you mean, Briony? He’s just doing his job!’ Mel tried to remain calm.

  ‘Do you know what his bank has been doing? Do you know what they’re investing in? Have you ever thought how they manage to make such an obscene amount of money? What was Alan’s bonus this year?’ demanded Briony.

  ‘Oh, quite a lot, I suppose. Not as much as a lot of them, but we managed to pay for our new kitchen immediately with cash. But we all know what banks do. They lend money, then they make more money as it’s paid back because of the interest they charge. And they invest in all sorts of other things that will make a profit in the future, they hope. To make a good profit you have to take risks. That’s why they get paid a lot. If they’re paid silly money and can buy anything their heart desires they are more likely to have the same easy-come, easy-go attitude with other people’s property. That’s why this country is one of the richest in the world. That’s why you can have the benefits you live on, for instance, Briony.’ Mel couldn’t help herself … the words were out of her mouth and hanging devastatingly in the air before she could stop them. She had long felt misjudged and taken for granted by the likes of Briony and Zeus. She was fed up with people like them taking the moral high ground, when it was her family’s taxes and Alan’s work stress that paid for them to swan around being free spirits, indulging in fantasies about ley lines and reincarnation. In her righteous anger, she hadn’t noticed the expression on Briony’s face as she was joined by Zeus and their parents.