The Frances Garrood Collection

by Frances Garrood

  “Is there anything else I can help you with?” asked Father Augustine. “Because I think there may be others waiting.”

  “Yes. Yes of course.”

  “And if you want to talk at any time, just ring the presbytery.”

  Two days later, Steph accosted Gabs in the bathroom.

  “I gather you’ve been going to Mass,” she said.

  “Yes.” There was no point in denying it. “You’ve used up the last of the toothpaste.”

  “Don’t change the subject.”

  “Okay. So I went to Mass. What’s the big deal?”

  “The big deal,” said Steph, “is that you never go to Mass.”

  “Well, I do now.”

  “So, you’ve returned to the fold, have you?”

  “I think that’s my business.” Gabs applied a pair of very long false eyelashes and gave them an experimental flutter.

  “So you’ll be giving up your — your work.”

  “No.”

  “I see.”

  “No, you don’t. You’re just being prudish and sarcastic, and you don’t understand at all!”

  “What’s to understand? You’re a tart in pursuit of an ordained priest. It seems simple enough.”

  “Goodness! You really do mind about this, don’t you?” Steph had never called Gabs a tart before.

  “Of course I do. I care about Father Augustine — he’s a good man trying to do a difficult job in a pretty godless world — and I can’t bear the idea of you making his life even harder than it is already. And believe it or not, I care about you, too. Because you’re trying to do something that would be a hideous mistake and that could mess up your life as well as his.”

  Gabs sat down on the edge of the bath. “Steph, I can’t help it. I’ve tried to forget him, I really have, but I can’t.”

  “Of course you can help it! Don’t be so ridiculous, Gabs. You’re the one doing the chasing; you’re the one who’s started going to Mass. I gather you’ve even been to confession. So you’re the one who can stop all this. Now!”

  “My goodness! Word certainly gets around!”

  “Well, what did you expect?”

  “A bit of privacy? A little less gossip?”

  “You don’t deserve privacy. Father Augustine belongs to his church and his congregation. What you’re doing is like stealing. And that’s everyone’s business.”

  “You seem to have a great deal of faith in my powers of persuasion,” Gabs said mildly.

  “Oh, I know what you can do,” Steph said. “You once told me you could have any man you wanted, and it seems to have worked pretty well so far. And a priest is in a vulnerable position, especially a young one like him.”

  “I’ve barely spoken to the man yet. And he does — he would have a choice in the matter.”

  “That’s what you say.”

  “Hm.” Gabs looked at her sister. “You’re not just a tiny bit jealous, are you?”

  “No. Of course not!” Steph hesitated for a moment. “Well, okay then, perhaps I am sometimes. Just a little. I haven’t had much success in the boyfriend department. I haven’t got your — assets. But I’m certainly not after Father Augustine; and besides, this isn’t about me.”

  “No, it’s not. And now if you’ll excuse me, I have an appointment.”

  While she understood Steph’s viewpoint, and in a more reasonable mood might even have agreed with it, Gabs was so infuriated by what she saw as Steph’s prudish interference that it made her all the more determined to succeed in her mission. She was not stupid; she knew that what she was doing was at the very least ill-judged, but she reasoned to herself that it was also her business and her life, and she could do what she wanted. As for Father Augustine, he wasn’t some naive child, as Steph seemed to imply; he was a grown man, perfectly capable of making his own decisions. He certainly didn’t need Steph to look out for him.

  Gabs smiled grimly to herself. Steph had done more to damage her own cause than she could have imagined.

  The Second Meeting: April

  Hosting a meeting with Gabs and Mavis was proving more difficult than Alice had anticipated. For a start, there was Finn.

  “What’s this meeting about?” he’d asked her when she told him that she’d like to have the house to herself.

  “I told you. It’s a reading group.”

  “But you don’t read,” Finn said reasonably.

  “I do when I have time.”

  “Okay then. You don’t have time. So what’s the point in joining a reading group?”

  “The discussion will be interesting.”

  “No, it won’t. How can listening to people discussing a book you haven’t read possibly be interesting?”

  “Finn, this is my house, these are my friends, and what we do or what we talk about is none of your business.”

  “And you want me out of the way?”

  “Correct. Anyway, I thought you were seeing Trot.”

  “He called it off. Something about seeing a man about a dog.”

  Alice knew that this probably meant seeing several men about a pint, but refrained from saying so.

  “You don’t go out when I have friends,” he pointed out.

  “You have your own room to take them up to,” Alice said.

  “Well, why can’t you —”

  “Entertain people in my bedroom? I don’t think so, Finn.”

  “It’s an age thing, is it?” Finn asked.

  “I suppose you could say that.”

  “Okay. Here’s the deal,” said Finn after a moment’s thought. “I’ll ask Kenny round, and we can play computer games in my room. We won’t make any noise, and we won’t interfere with your meeting. How does that sound?”

  “I suppose it sounds all right,” Alice said doubtfully.

  “And Kenny can stay the night.”

  “Who said anything about staying the night?”

  “I did.” Finn kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, Mum.”

  Now Alice did a quick tidy round the living room. She scooped up Finn’s trainers and sweater and deposited them at the bottom of the stairs, and rescued a bag of dirty PE kit from the hallway. She cleared away a pile of books, plumped up some cushions, and brushed a few stray crumbs under a chair. The house would never be as tidy as Mavis’s, but it’d have to do.

  Gabs arrived first.

  “Sorry to be early,” she said, dumping an enormous holdall on the floor and sinking down on the sofa. “I came straight from work. It wasn’t worth going home first.”

  Alice fetched a bottle of wine and glasses.

  “Will red be okay? I haven’t any white.”

  “Anything would be wonderful.” Gabs kicked off her shoes. “Ooh. That’s better. What a day! This man — he’s a real creep, but rich, you know? — he actually asked me to… Oh, never mind. I just want to forget him. Cheers!”

  The door opened, and Finn came in.

  “Hi,” he said, seeing Gabs.

  Alice introduced them.

  “Hi, handsome.” Gabs grinned at him.

  “Enjoy the book, did you?” Finn asked her.

  “What book?”

  “The reading club book.” Finn winked at Alice, who could cheerfully have killed him.

  “Oh, that book!” said Gabs cheerily. “Loved it. Just couldn’t put it down.”

  “What was it again?” Finn asked.

  “War and Peace.” Gabs didn’t bat an eyelid. “You should try it sometime.”

  “Finn, did you want something?” Alice asked.

  “Nope. Just checking.”

  “Well, that sounds like Kenny at the door.”

  “Yeah.” Finn dragged his eyes away from Gabs, beneath whose tiny skirt there was a tantalising glimpse of suspender.

  “You going to answer it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, go on then.”

  “Nice boy,” said Gabs when Finn had left the room.

  “He has his moments,” Alice told her.
r />   A moment later, Finn was back.

  “It wasn’t Kenny,” he said, ushering Mavis into the room. “And this lady has brought her mother with her.”

  “I’m so sorry,” Mavis said. “In the end, I couldn’t leave her on her own. She’s been getting up to things, and the friend who sometimes sits with her is busy.”

  “I’ve come in a taxi,” said Maudie, beaming. She was bundled up in several layers. There was no sign of the plastic bag.

  “Have you read War and Peace too?” Finn asked Maudie.

  “Don’t mind if I do. Two sugars,” said Maudie, unwinding coats and scarves.

  “I’ve turned down her hearing aid,” Mavis explained.

  “Isn’t that a bit cruel?” asked Finn.

  “Finn, will you please leave us now?” Alice said.

  “Isn’t there anything I can fetch?” Finn looked longingly at Gabs.

  “No, there isn’t. You can go and make up a camp bed for Kenny.”

  “Right.”

  “Off you go then.”

  “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Aren’t they just darling at that age?” said Gabs after Finn had left.

  “No.” Alice had had enough of Finn for one evening, and she wasn’t sure that she trusted Gabs. She poured wine for Mavis and herself, and sat down.

  “What about me?” Maudie said.

  “Tea?” Alice asked her.

  “I’ll have what you’re having.”

  “Just give her a drop,” Mavis said. “Last time was a bit of a disaster.”

  “And I’ll have some of those crisps. I’ve brought my teeth.” Maudie fumbled in the pocket of her cardigan. “Here they are.” She picked some bits of fluff off them and popped them in her mouth. “What’s on telly?”

  “That’s an idea,” Mavis said. “If we sit her over in that corner by the television, she’ll be quite happy, and she won’t be able to hear what we’re saying.”

  Alice had not been looking forward to this evening. She’d had a terrible few weeks, she was exhausted, and now she was going to have to spend another evening with Gabs and Mavis and Mavis’s mad mother. In addition to this, she’d lied to Finn, and Finn knew it. She would have liked nothing better than an early night with something soothing on the radio and a large glass of whisky, and instead, she was going to have to listen to tales of Mavis’s lover and the unsavoury antics of Gabs. She reflected that there were few things that made one less inclined to listen to the problems of other people than being preoccupied with one’s own. To her surprise, she burst into tears.

  “Gosh. I’m sorry,” she said between sobs. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”

  “Don’t you?” Gabs fished a large and very male-looking handkerchief out of the holdall and passed it to Alice. “Course you do. Come on, Alice. Tell us.”

  So Alice told them. She told them about Angela’s baby, about her fears and Jay’s assurances, and her desperate insecurity. She even told them about Trot’s proposal.

  “Bloody hell! You have had a time of it, haven’t you?” Gabs moved across to Alice and rubbed her back sympathetically.

  Alice nodded. “And I wanted his baby. I wanted his baby,” she wept. “I wanted Jay’s baby!”

  Jay’s baby? Where on earth had all that come from? Occasionally she had thought it might be nice to have a baby with Jay, but obviously she must have felt more strongly about it than she’d realised. It had always been an impossibility, and so she thought she had put it out of her mind.

  “Of course you want his baby,” said Gabs, refilling Alice’s wine glass.

  “How awful for you,” said Mavis.

  “Yes. But it’s the waiting that’s the worst. The not knowing what it’ll be like, what it will do to Jay. Angela may have quite a long wait, but I feel I’ve been lumbered with one as well. Before, I imagined we’d just carry on as we always have. Not ideal, but manageable. This is quite different. This is unknown territory.”

  “Clifford has children,” Mavis said, “but they’ve always been there, so they haven’t really affected us. If he’d had one after we’d started seeing each other, I don’t know what I’d have done.”

  As Gabs and Mavis discussed her situation, Alice was soothed by their interest and their understanding, and she was glad she hadn’t call the evening off, as she’d been tempted to. She was also grateful that neither had suggested that she should end her relationship with Jay. It was the obvious solution — if it could be called such a thing — but already they knew her well enough to see that at the moment, it was not an option.

  “And the proposal?” Mavis asked. “No chance there, I suppose?”

  Alice shook her head. “Trot’s not marriage material. He’s a good father to Finn; well, a good friend, anyway. But no. It wouldn’t work. Besides, I don’t think he really meant it. He was feeling sorry for me, that’s all.”

  “And you don’t love him.”

  “There is that.”

  They all laughed, and Alice found herself relaxing. The evening was going better than she had expected, despite her emotional outburst, and Maudie seemed happy enough in her corner, tutting over a makeover show in the course of which some poor woman appeared to be having her breasts rearranged. At least I have nice boobs, she thought. I should be grateful for small (if a B cup could be called small) mercies. She poured everyone another glass of wine.

  Mavis hadn’t wanted to come this evening. The prospect of dressing her mother up and persuading her out into the night and into a taxi just so that she could spend an evening with people she hardly knew was not an appealing one, but a sense of duty had prevailed. Now, after a glass of wine and Alice’s outburst, she was feeling a great deal better. There was nothing quite so cheering as talking to someone who was worse off than yourself, and Mavis didn’t envy Alice one bit. Alice might be younger and more attractive than she was (Mavis had no illusions about her appearance) and she might have that rather nice-looking son, but she wouldn’t be in her shoes for anything. She had no idea whether Clifford and Dorothy still had a sex life and she didn’t want to know, but to have indisputable evidence that the sex life was not only ongoing but had, so to speak, borne fruit would be unbearable.

  “You said Clifford had children,” Alice said. “Have you ever seen them?”

  “A couple of times. The first was a long time ago. I did that hanging around the playground thing, trying to guess which ones they were.”

  “And did you? Guess, I mean.”

  “No. I asked another child which ones they were.”

  “And?”

  “They weren’t at all what I’d expected. I suppose I thought they’d look like Clifford, and they didn’t at all. One even had red hair.”

  “How did you feel?” Gabs asked.

  “Nothing. I felt nothing.”

  It had taken three bus rides and an entire morning for Mavis to get to the school, and then she’d had to hang around until the children came out into the playground after lunch. It was pouring with rain by the time she got there, and she’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. She’d taken shelter under a tree, anxious that if the weather continued like this the children wouldn’t be allowed out at all, but fortunately the rain eventually stopped, and as soon as the bell rang, they poured out into the playground, laughing and shouting, dauntingly similar in their red and grey uniforms. She had spent some time watching them, trying to pick out two that might be Clifford’s.

  What was she looking for? Even all those years ago, Clifford’s figure was moving comfortably from well-built but distinguished towards plump and balding. She could hardly have expected his two little girls to resemble him. And of course, they didn’t. When they were finally pointed out to her (one was with a friend, practising handstands; the other was standing on her own eating an apple), she waited to see how she’d feel, and was surprised when she found that she had no feelings about them at all. They were quite nice-looking little girls, but they could have belonged to anyone.

  “
I think I expected to feel related in some way. I know that sounds ridiculous, but because I was so close to Clifford, I expected to feel something for his children. It was a relief in a way when I didn’t. I had been so afraid that I’d — oh, I don’t know — that I’d want them.”

  “And you didn’t,” said Gabs.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “Did you speak to them?”

  “I didn’t get the chance. A teacher came over and asked me what I wanted. I think she thought I was planning something sinister, and so I left.”

  “How are things now?” Alice asked, and Mavis realised that it was her turn to speak.

  “Up and down. We had a falling-out, and had no contact for nearly three weeks.”

  “What was that about?” Gabs asked.

  So Mavis told them.

  “A hypochondriac,” mused Gabs. “I don’t think I could put up with that.”

  “I’m not sure I can, either,” Mavis said. “But the trouble is that this time, he was right. He’s got angina.”

  “Oh dear.”

  “Yes. Actually, he seems rather pleased about it. He’s got this little puffer thing he uses and some pills to put under his tongue, and he’s making a bit of a meal of it.”

  “You don’t sound very sympathetic.”

  “That’s what Clifford says. But I think I’m running out of sympathy. The brain tumour and the cancer sort of drained me.”

  “So?” Gabs asked.

  “So we just carry on. I still love him — well, I think I do — but I refuse to worry. He’s got a good specialist. He and Dorothy can do the worrying.” Mavis realised that she sounded hard, but she’d had to toughen up recently, and the experience had been rather invigorating.

  “What about sex?”

  “We’ve done it once.”

  “And?”

  “He was fine, although he wanted… he insisted…”

  “Yes?”

  “He insisted that I should — be on top.” Mavis blushed. She’d never talked about this kind of thing before, and while she and Clifford had tried many positions in their time, it was not something she had ever imagined herself discussing with anyone else. Besides, this particular position was not one that showed her in a flattering light. Straddled across Clifford on Dennis’s bed in Dennis’s icy bedroom, she’d been too aware of his view of her dangling breasts and less-than-firm stomach to enjoy the experience.