“So you said.” Gabs was pouring wine for Maudie. She seemed unaffected by her cigarette.
“Mother shouldn’t have a drink,” Mavis said. “She’s on pills.”
“Just a tiny one. One tiny one won’t hurt her,” said Gabs.
“Mother’s ruin.” Mavis hooted with laughter. “My mother’s ruin.”
“Gin’s Mother’s ruin, not wine,” said Gabs.
“Gin. Wine. Doesn’t matter.”
“Mavis, I think perhaps you’ve had enough,” Gabs said. “It doesn’t mix too well with alcohol, and you’ve had quite a bit.”
She reached out to take Mavis’s cigarette, but Mavis pulled her hand away. “Spoilsport,” she said, taking another deep lungful of smoke. “Gabs is a spoilsport. Gabs is a spoilsport,” she chanted, looking to Alice for support.
Alice looked lazily back at her and winked. Poor old Mavis. She was probably having the best time she’d had in ages. That Clifford of hers sounded ghastly, and while Maudie was, as Gabs said, a sweetie, a confused and incontinent sweetie must sometimes make a difficult companion.
“Gabs isn’t a spoilsport,” she said carefully. “But she has a… she has a…”
“Point?” said Gabs.
“Yep. One of those.”
Mavis pouted and muttered and poured herself more wine. Maudie, who had been asleep for some time, gave a little snore, and the plastic bag, concealed up until now, appeared to have slipped its mooring, and landed with a gentle thump on the grass beside her. Alice noticed that it seemed rather full and wondered by what means it could be emptied.
“Not my problem,” she said aloud.
“What isn’t?” Gabs asked.
“Maudie’s bag.” Alice pointed. “It’s — it’s arrived.”
“Bugger,” said Gabs. “Oh, well, it’ll probably last until she gets home.” She looked at Mavis, who was now lying down and looking rather sick. “If she gets home.”
Gabs was becoming seriously worried. Alice was right. Rain did indeed appear to be imminent, and meanwhile she seemed to be the only one in any state to take the initiative. Maudie was still asleep, Mavis was vomiting copiously into a patch of long grass, and Alice was humming tunelessly as she helped herself to yet more wine.
And it was all Gabs’ fault. She was the one who’d been topping up everyone’s glasses and rolling joints, and she was the one who should have seen this coming. Gabs herself was used to headier combinations of drugs and alcohol and was largely unaffected, but she should have known better than to introduce it to the others.
“Come on, guys. Time to get going.” She began collecting up the glasses and putting away the picnic things. “Come on, Alice. You at least can help me.”
“I could,” said Alice dreamily. “Of course I could, but…” She rolled over onto her stomach, resting her head on her arms. “I like it here.”
“Well, you can’t stay here all night. Any of you. And what about Maudie? She’ll catch her death.”
“How can you catch death? Such an odd expression.”
“Alice! Get up!”
“What if I don’t?”
“I’ll pour the rest of this bottle all over you.” Gabs brandished the last of the wine and was appalled to see that they’d got through nearly three bottles. “Come on. I’m not kidding.”
“Go right ahead. I don’t care.” Alice rolled onto her back again, and Gabs emptied the bottle of wine onto her face.
“Bloody hell! What d’you do that for?” Alice sat up and wiped wine from her eyes and mouth. “You silly cow!”
“You can thank your lucky stars it wasn’t red, and at least it’s woken you up. That’s something. Now, help me get the others on their feet. We need to get going.”
“How?” Alice appeared to have come to her senses. “Can’t drive, can I?”
“Not my problem.”
“Well, what about Mavis?”
Gabs looked at Mavis, who was in no state to travel in a taxi, never mind take care of Maudie.
“D’you know anyone with a car?” she asked.
“I thought you had one.”
“I came by taxi, because of the drinking. Don’t you know anyone who might fetch us?”
Alice considered. “Well, there’s Trot.”
“Trot?”
“Finn’s father. I told you. He prop— proposed.” Alice giggled. “Trot proposed!”
“Never mind that. Has he got a car?”
“Well, he had a car. May have sold it.”
“Could you at least phone him?”
“I suppose I could…”
Gabs gave Alice a little shake. “Come on, Alice. It looks like this Trot is our only hope.”
Gabs was furious with herself and everyone else. If she had only herself to consider, she could just phone for a taxi and go home, but she felt some responsibility for what had happened and she could hardly abandon the others to a chilly night in the park. It seemed that it was up to her to get them home, and if Alice’s friend would fetch them, so much the better.
She reached for Alice’s bag and retrieved her mobile. She managed to find Trot’s number without much difficulty and moved away from the others to make the call.
“Hey! Alice!” A man’s voice answered after several rings. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“This isn’t going to be a pleasure, I assure you,” Gabs told him. “Are you Trot?”
“Who is this? Who’s speaking?”
“Long story,” said Gabs. “No time to go into it. Now, can you fetch Alice and some — some friends and take us home? We’re in a bit of a fix.”
“What kind of a fix?”
“Never mind that. You’ll find out when you get here.”
“How do I know you’re not a thief who’s stolen Alice’s handbag, and you’re trying to use me as a getaway car?”
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Mm. That’s more easily said than done. I —”
“Look. This is an emergency. Are you going to help us or aren’t you?”
“Why can’t Alice speak to me herself?”
“She’s — she’s not well.”
“Drunk?”
“Kind of.”
“Ah.” There was a lengthy pause. Gabs was dying to put on the pressure, but she didn’t want to lose what might well be their only chance of a lift home. “Anything to identify her? I need to know who I’m rescuing.”
“Well, she’s — hang on a minute — she’s wearing a plain gold chain round her neck, and a ring with a bluish stone on her little finger.”
“That’ll be Alice.” Another pause. “I’ve only got a van.”
“She said you had a car!”
“Sold it and bought a van. There’s more room in a van.”
“Yes. There would be.”
“So, do you want me or don’t you?”
If it was a van or nothing, then it had to be a van. “Yes, please.”
“Where are you?”
Gabs explained.
“Bloody hell! That’s miles away!”
“Do you want the mother of your son to die of exposure?”
“Well, since you put it like that, I suppose I’d better come and fetch you.”
“That would be kind.”
“Yes.”
“Well, d’you think you could get going, then? It’s starting to rain, and we’re getting cold.”
“Yeah. Okay. I’m on my way.”
By the time Trot eventually arrived, they were all cold and wet. Alice still seemed largely unaware of the situation, Mavis was being sick again, and Maudie was shivering and singing “Auld Lang Syne”. To be fair to Trot, he appeared to sum up the situation fairly quickly and didn’t ask too many questions. Alice didn’t seem particularly pleased to see him, but that, Gabs reckoned, was tough. The important thing was that they now had wheels and a good chance of getting home tonight.
Fortunately, they weren’t too far from the road, and together they managed to conve
y Alice and Mavis to the van, where, with some difficulty, they stowed them in the back among a pile of canvases, some fishing gear, and, oddly, something that resembled a Greek urn.
Maudie was more of a problem.
“Come on, Maudie. Time to go home,” said Gabs, attempting to help her out of her chair. “Give me a hand, will you, Trot?”
“Who are you?” Maudie looked suspiciously at Trot. “Not going anywhere with a stranger. Anything might happen.”
“Well, if you don’t let this stranger drive you home, you’ll have to stay here,” said Gabs.
“Shall we carry her?” Trot asked.
“I suppose we could try.” There was quite a lot of Maudie.
“What on earth’s this?” Trot held up Maudie’s plastic bag, and Maudie gave a squeak of pain.
“Don’t pull that! It’s attached to her,” Gabs said. “Give it here.”
“But what is it?”
“For fuck’s sake, what do you think it is?” Gabs took the bag, which was by now very full indeed. Gabs wondered briefly whether she should empty it, but decided against it. They needed to get Maudie out of the rain, and she didn’t trust Alice and Mavis in the van on their own. “Now stop asking stupid questions and grab hold of her top half.”
“Leave my tits alone!” Maudie yelled as Trot tried to get a purchase on her upper body.
“Well, can you walk, then?” Gabs asked her.
“Course I can,” Maudie said. “But I’m not going with him.”
“But you’ll come with me, won’t you? You know me.”
“Bad girl?”
“That’s me. Now, up you get — that’s the way — and we’ll go and find this van. You carry the bag,” she told Trot, “but stay close as it pulls a bit.”
“Right you are.” Trot followed Gabs and Maudie, holding the bag as though it were an unexploded bomb (which by now was more or less what it was).
After some time (and more rain), they reached the van.
“She’d better go in the front,” said Gabs.
Together they manhandled Maudie’s substantial backside into the passenger seat, followed by her legs and the bag.
“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” Trot said when she was safely belted in.
“Do it for a living,” said Gabs.
“What, stuffing old ladies into vans?”
“Caring for the elderly.”
“Bit of a waste, isn’t it?” Trot remarked.
“Waste of what?”
“Of your assets.” He looked at her appraisingly.
“You leave my assets out of this. Let’s get going.”
The journey home was long and uncomfortable. Gabs, Mavis, and Alice were crammed together in the back of the van among the clutter and the fishing gear, bouncing around uncomfortably and toppling into one another every time the van turned a corner. Maudie, her spirits much revived, was singing something rude, and Trot was cursing the lot of them. All Gabs could think of was that soon she would be home in her own comfortable bed, and this nightmare of an evening would finally be over. The only thing she had to be thankful for was that the evening’s discussion didn’t get round to her, because while she had been looking forward to offloading the problem of Steph’s pregnancy, she hadn’t been prepared to undergo further censure over her feelings for Father Augustine.
They dropped Alice off first and watched her tottering towards her front door.
“She’ll be okay,” Trot said. “I’ll give her a ring tomorrow to make sure.”
Mavis and Maudie were next. By now, Maudie appeared to have nodded off, and Mavis was asleep with her head in the Greek urn. Gabs herself was stiff and uncomfortable and longing for a cigarette. She shuffled towards the front of the van so that Trot could hear her.
“Mind if I smoke?”
“Be my guest. I’ll have one too, if you’ve got one to spare.”
Gabs lit a cigarette and passed it through to Trot.
“Thanks,” Trot said. “What do you really do?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“For a living. What do you really do for a living?”
“Oh, this and that. But I do look after old people as well.”
“Ever thought of being a model?”
“No, thanks. Anyway, I’m not tall enough.”
“Are you — have you got a boyfriend?”
“That would be telling.”
“You mean, mind my own business?”
“Something like that.”
“Then I apologise.”
“No problem.” Gabs drew on her cigarette. “So, you’re Finn’s dad?”
“That’s right.”
“He’s a nice boy.”
“Yeah. Finn’s okay.” Trot stopped at a traffic light and flicked cigarette ash out of the window. “He was what you might call a one-night-stand baby.”
“So I gather.”
“How did you meet Alice?”
“Shared interests,” said Gabs.
“Alice never seems to have time for any interests,” Trot said. “Finn says she told him she was a member of a book group, but he doesn’t believe her.”
“War and Peace,” said Gabs.
“What?”
“War and Peace. That’s the book we’ve been reading.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
At this point they reached the road where Mavis lived, and Trot pulled up by the kerb. With some difficulty, they woke Mavis and Maudie and managed to get them out of the van. By now, Mavis was coming to her senses and had become maudlin and apologetic.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she said, wobbling up the garden path on Gabs’ arm. “What — what must you think of me?”
“Never mind that,” Gabs said. “Now, keys. You need your keys, Mavis.”
Mavis fumbled in her bag.
“Give it here.” Gabs took the bag, found the keys, and unlocked the front door. “There you go,” she said.
There was a loud hissing sound, and an angry ball of fur hurled itself at Gabs and attached itself to her shoulder, biting and scratching.
“Bloody hell!” Gabs lashed out at her assailant, stabbing it with the front door key. There was an indignant yowl, and the ball of fur detached itself and streaked up the stairs. “What the fuck was that?”
“The cat. Mother’s cat. So — so sorry. So sorry,” said Mavis.
“So you keep saying. Sorry’s all very well, but that animal’s a liability. It ought to be put down before it really hurts someone.” Gabs got out a tissue and wiped blood from her neck. “Fucking thing!”
She and Trot settled Mavis and Maudie in their living room and made a quick getaway.
“Thank goodness that’s over,” said Gabs as they made their way back towards the van. “What an evening!”
“Where do you live?” Trot asked.
“It’s okay. I’ll get a taxi the rest of the way,” Gabs told him.
“But it’s no trouble.” Trot grinned. “It’ll be a pleasure.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of. No. I’ll see myself home.”
“Don’t you trust me?”
“Nope.”
“Well, that’s great. After all the trouble I’ve been to this evening!”
Gabs patted him on the cheek. “You’ve been a very good boy, and I’m grateful, but now it’s time to go home.”
“And I suppose I can’t see you again?”
“That’s right. You can’t.”
In the back of the taxi, Gabs stretched out her legs and breathed a sigh of relief. If she never saw Alice and Mavis again, it’d be too soon.
Part Four
Alice
Finn was gloating.
It was only very rarely that he managed to attain the moral high ground, and now that he was there, he showed little inclination to vacate it. It didn’t take long for Alice to decide that a sulking teenager — which was the kind she was more accustomed to—was infinitely preferable to this new,
self-righteous one.
“You were stoned!” he crowed. “My mother was stoned! How cool is that?”
“Leave it, can’t you, Finn?” Two days after the event, Alice was still feeling tired and very foolish. “Okay. So I was stupid. But can we let it go now?”
“Let it go? Oh no! This is too good to let go. And Trot says that after what you did to his plant, he —”
“You’ve been discussing this with Trot?”
“Course I have. After all, he rescued you. If it wasn’t for Trot, you’d still be staggering round that park.”
“He told you that, did he?”
“Yeah. He thinks it’s hilarious.”
“Oh, does he?”
“He’s told all his friends.”
“How sweet.”
“Yeah. He says he wonders whether you’re fit to be a mother.”
“So he’s going to take you on, is he?”
“Well, he didn’t exactly say that.”
“I bet he didn’t.”
“Oh, come on, Mum. Where’s your sense of humour?”
“You’re beginning to sound just like him.”
“Well, Trot likes a laugh. Nothing wrong with that.”
“Provided it’s at someone else’s expense.”
“I had to put you to bed,” Finn said.
“Finn, you took off my shoes. That hardly constitutes putting me to bed.”
“Sounds good, though, doesn’t it?” Finn grinned.
“No, it does not. And now, if you’ll just leave me alone, you could perhaps do some homework and I can finish this article.”
Aside from her adventure in the park with Mavis and Gabs, Alice was having problems at work. The colour supplement for which she worked was struggling, there had been several redundancies, and an increasing amount of work was being given to those who remained. Alice had hitherto written features, but now she found herself in charge of ‘Beauty’ as well.
“Beauty? I don’t know anything about beauty!” she’d said when her editor had informed her of the decision.
“Then find out. You’re a journalist. Finding out’s what journalists do. We’re all having to adapt.”
“But I like features. They’re what I’m good at,” Alice had wailed.
“That’s just as well, because you’ll still be doing features. These are difficult times, Alice. We’re all having to work harder. You’re lucky to have a job at all.”
The Frances Garrood Collection Page 42
