‘Absolutely. You two look better for your trip. Your nose certainly appears more pleasant Alan! Did our friends look after you well?’
‘We were treated like royalty. You have an awful lot of friends in high places, don’t you?’ Mel watched Poppy’s face carefully.
Alan poked her in the back and gave her a warning glance. So they settled on a blanket on the luscious lawn (which was more the size of an airfield) and had a little picnic. Very civilised. Not a Kalashnikov in sight.
‘So how are the investments, Alan? Have the monies passed through from Arsch Bank in Switzerland?’ enquired Tarquin.
‘Oh yes. Sweet as a nut. Mortgages have been approved as well. Are you sure you want hundred per cent loans? You’ve got enough to buy these properties outright.’
‘We don’t like to put all our eggs in one basket,’ answered Tarkers with a sense of finality in his tone.
49
‘Do you think they’re up to something?’ Alan asked Mel as they were settling down in bed that night. ‘It doesn’t make any financial sense to buy hundred per cent mortgages, even if they do have the money to waste and I make loads of dosh on them. I mean, the interest just climbs … it’s a rubbish deal, really. But they insisted on it. To get as rich as they are you’d think they had more sense.’
‘I don’t understand it either. But, as you say, they didn’t get where they are today by making crap decisions about money!’
Alan continued in thoughtful manner. ‘They have a lot of powerful friends in Italy, haven’t they?’
‘Yep.’ Mel wasn’t going to do any more deduction and detective work. She’d always done this analysing stuff and it got her nowhere but tangled up and paranoid. ‘Come on, let’s have a bonk, sexy!’ she cried.
Nothing like a spot of wanton lust to switch off the rational mind.
50
Amy and Michael were already up when Mel and Alan came downstairs. And lo, Michael had taken the soldier figure out of his box and Amy was doing something girly with a Barbie doll.
‘What are we going to do today?’ demanded the children in unison. Only two weeks into the summer holidays and they were already running out of ideas.
‘When I was little,’ reminisced Alan sagely, ‘I used to make a den under the table. I’d use a blanket that was big enough to cover from table top to floor and play in there.’
‘Why?’ asked Amy.
‘Well … it was fun.’
‘You want us to sit under the table covered by a blanket all day?’ checked Amy, regarding her father with incredulity.
‘No … that’s not what I said. It’s just a suggestion. When Mummy and I were small we didn’t have all these adventure parks and computer games. We made our own fun.’
‘Doesn’t sound like much fun to me,’ concluded Amy, flatly.
The children went outside to feed Amy’s ants. She kept them on the foundations of the old sundial in the middle of the garden, covered by a large ceramic flowerpot. Everyday she would pour sugar in the little Sandwich Spread pot lid and watch the ants come out. Mel and Alan watched, relieved that Amy and Michael weren’t like some children they knew … ones that needed huge piles of toys bought for them every day and then just abandoned them. They mentally gave themselves a pat on the back as a reward for their children having the ability to amuse themselves for a while without complaining about being bored. Honestly, some of the kids Mel knew, they had every gaming system ever devised which could take them, in virtual reality, to the outer limits of the universe if they so wished, but they were still saying …
‘I’m bored!’ whined Michael.
‘So am I,’ agreed Amy. So much for that then. They went to the children to encourage their interest in the ants for a little while longer.
‘Look at that ant!’ enthused Mel. The children had put some apple near the sugar on the sundial foundations and the ant was beside himself with greed and confusion. He was obviously not sure whether if he took the sugar into the hole first, some other ant would come and steal the apple slice. In his confusion and indecision, he kept going from one option to the other.
‘I thought ants worked as a team! Why doesn’t he go and talk to the others? That apple bit is obviously too big for him to carry on his own but if they all work together they could get it all down the hole,’ said Mel. ‘Perhaps the “Greed is Good” philosophy has hit ants and bees as well. Perhaps they’ve got their own version of Big Swinging Dick in their nests and hives!’ whispered Mel to her husband.
‘Good point,’ said Alan, ‘and maybe that’s why the bees seem to be dying out. There’s a moral to this.’
‘So … you probably agree now that we should get back to basics for a while? Do you fancy a teepee in Madagascar?’
‘I’m up for it if you are,’ replied Alan.
51
‘Well, Kelly, we’re definitely up for the big trip. How does Rob feel about it?’
‘Rob’ll come if I have to drag him,’ said Kelly. ‘He is in serious need of a reality check. And he’s so bitter and twisted these days. He’s got a chip on his shoulder the size of St Paul’s Cathedral and he can’t come in through the door after work without effing and blinding all over the place. It’s his every other word to the point where I totally lose the thread of what he’s trying to say. I don’t think even he knows what he’s meaning to say, actually. He just seems generally angry and dissatisfied with the world … Oh sorry … Rob’s listening to this … and he says that it’s all my fault that he’s had to prostitute his talents in this job so that I can have my life of luxury,’ reported Kelly. ‘That’s the thing about being female … you’re OK as long as you remember that it’s all your fault!’
‘True,’ agreed Mel.
‘How’s Alan? Still in a mess, is he? Rob’s no better. I don’t know what’s best, Rob on illegal, mind-altering drugs or Rob abstaining … Yeah … all right, Rob. Yep. You already said and I’ve agreed that, of course that’s my fault too.’
‘Right. That settles it. And Ivan and Matilda … what do they think?’
‘They just think it’d be cool to live in a teepee in a jungle surrounded by lions, zebras and giraffes.’
‘Eh? But there aren’t any lions, giraffes and zebras in Madagascar. They’ve got lots of lemurs,’ Mel informed her friend.
‘Aren’t there? But they’re in that film Madagascar.’
‘It’s a film, Kelly … well, a cartoon, actually … remember … they were going to Africa in a boat and then something happens with the penguins and they end up in Madagascar by mistake!’ said Rob, knowledgeably listening on the other line.
‘Right. Well … thanks for that thesis on the wildlife of the southern hemisphere and its representation in the genre of film animation, Rob. Most enlightening. Just as well you were here,’ said Kelly, sarcastically.
‘Seriously, though, I would really like to get away and it would be good for Matilda and Ivan to learn zoology first-hand instead of through the manic eyes of an American cartoonist,’ Rob butted in.
‘Good,’ said Mel. ‘We’ll go in two weeks’ time! Should we take a teepee with us or hire it over there?’
‘I’ve no idea, Melly. I mean, I haven’t exactly made a habit of going to the edge of civilisation with no more than a bit of cloth and some sticks between me and the wild world outside. Hey, it’s exciting isn’t it? We should get together and plan this. It’ll be like one of those survival programmes. Perhaps we should even film it!’ raved Kelly.
In the meantime, it was back to the routine where Alan had to catch trains to work because it took so long to drive in the traffic of London that it was pointless to take the car. In the meantime, Mel, Kelly and Imogen had to find constant sources of amusement for the kids. Kasha was still out of action. The boob on one side had grown to twice the size of the other one and Kasha wouldn’t leave the house. She’d been in hospital to have it investigated and had finally needed to go into an NHS hospital to have all the tests she needed. Mel had w
arned her that they couldn’t do anything very complicated in the local private hospital, which seemed more like a four-star hotel. As expected, Kasha had felt quite deflated, from the emotional if not the boob side of things, when she found herself queuing with the masses and having to drink vending-machine coffee from a plastic cup. Now her breast ached all the time, her skin was stretched and she was lying on a bed with a drip for her intravenous antibiotics in a room shared with three other people, having the huge breasts of a porn star was losing its lustre. Her friends were buying her treats like chocolates but she couldn’t eat them because she had her figure to keep for her career. Poor Kasha. Her husband wasn’t much help. He loved it when she was able to ‘perform’, in every meaning of the word, but ‘In sickness and in health’ wasn’t a part of the marriage vows that had hit home for him. The girls decided to descend on Kasha with their children, so they could help her to bear her lot when she’d been discharged.
Kasha opened the front door dressed in a loose T-shirt and jogging bottoms, her hair scraped back off her face, her eyes swollen and red and her skin blotchy and spotty. She turned around with little acknowledgement of their arrival and they took it that she meant them to follow her into the house. They sent the children into the garden to join Kasha’s kids and then invited themselves to sit down on the sofas in the sitting room, giving each other uneasy smiles and twiddling their fingers in their laps. They weren’t even sure that Kasha realised that they were there. She looked like a zombie. It was really quite worrying. And the house was in a state of total chaos. There were definite signs that Kasha had returned to her old vice of smoking. Mel thought she had better try and find her, just in case she hadn’t noticed they were there and had gone back to bed – in her apparent zombie-like state, she might think they were burglars and call the police or even attack them herself!
‘Kasha? Where are you? Are you in the kitchen?’ Mel called.
The kitchen was full of half-eaten bits of fruit. There was no proper food at all, even in the fridge. There were some packets of miso soup mix, a tin of tuna and some melons. It didn’t look like Kasha was having a varied diet, which was hardly going to help her heal. No wonder she looked like a zombie, she was probably only eating about 400 calories a day.
‘Kasha!?’ she hollered up the stairs.
Finally, she had reached the top of the stairs and still hadn’t found her. She checked all the bedrooms until finally she discovered Kasha lying on a bed with her back to the door.
‘Kasha? Are you OK?’
She looked painfully thin from the back. Mel hadn’t noticed it from the front, because the huge implants had given a false impression.
‘Kasha? Are you awake?’
Kasha stirred and grunted in answer.
‘Yes. What are you doing in here? How did you get in?’ she asked, confused.
‘You just let us all in, remember? Kelly and Imogen are downstairs and our kids are playing with yours in the garden. Can’t you hear them? They’re making enough noise!’ Mel laughed, hoping to joke Kasha out of her torpor.
Mel sat on the chair at the end of the bed, by the window.
‘Kasha. What’s wrong? You don’t seem to be yourself today. You haven’t been out for ages. We were getting worried about you.’
Kasha shifted herself so she could see her friend. She had definitely lost weight and she hadn’t washed for days by the smell of her.
‘I feel totally rubbish,’ stated Kasha simply. ‘I hate myself and I look like a monster. Have you seen my boobs?’ She sat up and Mel could see what she meant. They were uneven and there was a nasty-looking discharge oozing into Kasha’s T-shirt. It didn’t look as if her infection had cleared up.
‘Haven’t they removed the implants, Kasha? They need to and then thoroughly clean up the area. You need to be in hospital. Why isn’t someone with you? Where’s your bloody husband?’
‘I dunno. He went to work a few days ago, I think, but I don’t think he’s been back since,’ Kasha said, unmoved.
‘Well, I’m phoning the doctor. You can’t go on like this! You’ll end up with septicaemia. This is ridiculous!’ Mel was incensed.
Kasha didn’t argue and even if she had, Mel would have taken no notice. Thank goodness they had come to visit. God knows what would have happened to Kasha and the children if they hadn’t. What was that idiot husband of hers doing?
‘Do your parents live nearby?’ asked Mel, hoping she could find someone to take care of Kasha and the children.
‘No … they live in Belize. Haven’t been in the UK for at least ten years.’
Mel let the doctor in and next thing, Kasha was being sent into hospital. The only problem was what to do with Kasha’s kids. Social services would have to be involved to sort it out. Strange how one can have so much money but still not be immune to being involved in a drama like this. Obviously, social services would contact Kasha’s husband, although Mel had been unable to do so. His mobile phone was switched off and his workplace hadn’t seen him all week.
‘We’ll have to work something out between us if necessary, girls. We’ll contact social services at the hospital with our details and probably be involved in looking after them if Kasha’s husband can’t be found. Looks like the children will be going to a foster home tonight, though,’ said Mel. She dearly wanted to take Kasha’s children home with her, but knew that when the authorities got involved, it was more than their lives were worth to have such an informal arrangement. These days, even a close friend of the family would need to go through every check in the book.
‘God. This is awful! Do you think this will affect the children for life? I mean … going into care? You hear all these things!’ remarked Imogen with a shudder.
‘They’ll go to emergency foster parents until something better can be sorted out. I know a couple of foster parents myself, and they are lovely people. Can’t speak for the entire system, obviously, but it makes me feel a bit better when I think of the people I know who foster. Kasha won’t be in for long anyway, as long as she isn’t massively depressed as well. If it’s just the infection, she’ll only be in for a couple of weeks and her husband is probably just caught up somewhere,’ said Mel brightly.
‘I bet he is,’ sniffed Kelly.
‘Where’ve they all gone?’ asked Michael. ‘Why have we got to go home?’
‘Kasha’s not well. She’s just got to go to hospital to get better and the children have to stay with some nice people until something else can be sorted out.’
‘Can we go to the nice people as well? Please, Mummy? Please? We could have a sleepover!’ begged Amy.
‘Well, thanks a lot, Amy!’ replied Mel. ‘We’ll follow Kasha and the children to the hospital and see what’s happening, shall we?’
So they all went back to Mel’s and piled into the car. Just as well it was so big.
52
‘That was awful. If anyone needs to get away to somewhere more real, it’s Kasha, if you ask me,’ remarked Imogen as they left the ward.
‘I know. Puts things in perspective, doesn’t it? Our husbands may be a little weird, but at least they’re around from time to time and don’t want to exploit us in the porn industry!’ exclaimed Kelly.
‘They might well dream of it, but Alan’s got no chance with me. I don’t think anyone would find my cellulite and wobbly bits sexy anyway,’ said Mel.
‘I dunno. There are a lot of strange feeder fetishists out there!’ observed Imogen helpfully.
‘Thanks a lot, kid! So I’m so fat that I might appeal to a feeder?! Is that what you’re trying to say?’ Mel laughed … but she was a little anxious that there may be a modicum of truth in this.
‘Don’t be daft, Mel! I wouldn’t say it if there was any truth in it, you soft thing,’ soothed Imogen.
‘My God, Kasha was so skinny, wasn’t she? She looked like one of those lollipop-headed celebrities with a couple of large jelly moulds on her chest. I hadn’t noticed she was that thin before,’ Kelly changed
the subject masterfully.
‘Know what you mean,’ sighed Mel and Imogen.
Kasha’s children had left the hospital with some official-looking social workers. The friends had left their details with them before leaving.
‘What was the matter with Auntie Kasha?’ asked Amy later.
‘She wasn’t very well,’ Mel answered simply.
‘Why?’ said Michael.
‘She’s got a bad tummy,’ answered Mel, hoping that would put an end to the questions.
‘Why?’
‘Um … a nasty bug.’
‘What, like an ant? Has she got an ant in her tummy?’
‘Yes! That’s right.’
‘Aw! Mummy! That’s awful! Poor ant!’ Amy looked horrified, but there was no way that Mel was going to give any more of an explanation tonight.
‘These things happen,’ she shrugged.
Michael and Amy looked wide-eyed at each other and decided not to question any further.
‘Time for bed then.’ It was rather late. Amy and Michael had no school, luckily, but they’d probably be in a right old mood next day. It didn’t follow with children that just because they went to bed late they might sleep in, more’s the pity. No matter what, even in the long summer holidays, the children were always up at seven in the morning.
As she came downstairs, Alan was just walking through the door looking haggard and drawn.
‘Just do not ask me about my day!’
‘OK. I won’t.’
‘Just don’t ask! I mean … how I ever managed to do that job before cocaine and speed, I have no idea. Investment banking when sober and sane is completely impossible.’
He helped himself to a quadruple gin and tonic. ‘Want one?’ he asked.
‘What a good idea,’ said Mel. ‘It’s been a rather pants sort of day for me too. Kasha had to go into hospital!’
‘What, the porn star with the size 32 KKK boobs? Some of the blokes in work are connoisseurs of her screen performances. I told them she was a friend of yours!’ Alan’s eyes twinkled.
The Meltdown of a Banker's Wife Page 19
