The Frances Garrood Collection

by Frances Garrood

  Mavis did in fact have a pretty good idea since Clifford had described this experience to her so many times that she knew the story by heart.

  “I can put myself in your shoes, yes,” she said. “I just sometimes wish that you could put yourself in mine.”

  “I don’t like the sound of all these accusations.”

  “I’m not accusing you of anything. It’s just that I’ve done my best to imagine how difficult it must have been like for you in the hospital, having a major operation. But you never seem to understand what it’s like for me, living here on my own, visiting Mother, looking after the cat, having Mr. Strong going on at me all the time because I need time off.”

  “Mavis, do I detect a hint of self-pity?”

  There are few things more infuriating than having someone accuse you of a fault that they themselves have in abundance, and Mavis could feel herself becoming seriously angry.

  “It takes one to know one,” she said, throwing caution to the winds.

  “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

  “It means that you — I — both of us have spent a lot of time feeling sorry for you, but I can’t remember a time when you have ever shown any sympathy for me.”

  “So,” said Clifford, buttering himself another biscuit (should he really be having this much cholesterol?), “our reunion is to be turned into a discussion of my shortcomings, is it?” He put cheese on his biscuit and took a bite.

  “No, of course not. And I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve missed you, and I suppose I wanted you to know how miserable I’ve been without you.”

  This was not entirely true, but Mavis knew that it was up to her to rescue the situation, which was, in the end, of her own making. If she could focus on Clifford and his illness and his joyous return to good health rather than telling him about her own problems, all would be well.

  But then, was this right? Was it honest to conduct a relationship with reference to the feelings of only one of the parties involved? Her relationship with Clifford had become increasingly lopsided over the past few months, and if it carried on in this way, there would eventually be nothing in it at all for Mavis. She had always tried to be unselfish and considerate, but she had her limits, and Clifford was certainly doing his best to test them. It occurred to her that nowadays, she seemed to spend all her time looking after other people. Her mother, the cat, Clifford; even Mr. Strong had sometimes needed emotional support. When the little grey wife found a breast lump, when someone crashed into his new car, when the cleaner took three days’ takings from the till, and then did a runner all the way to New Jersey — all these had been occasions for Mavis to lend him a sympathetic ear. But who did this for Mavis? To whom could she turn when things went badly? Certainly she used to be able to depend on Clifford, but not anymore. Clifford was far too busy looking after number one to pay more than glancing attention to any of her problems.

  Mavis wondered how Dorothy was coping and whether she was feeling the same.

  “How’s Dorothy?” she asked now, pouring coffee.

  “Fine. Why?”

  “Oh, no reason. It’s just that all this must have been worrying for her, too.”

  This was the right thing to say.

  “Yes. Of course she was worried. I mean, she was bound to be, wasn’t she? After nearly forty years of marriage. But Dorothy’s very strong. Actually, I did expect just a little more support from her, but she encouraged me to be independent, to do things for myself. I don’t think,” Clifford added, stirring cream into his coffee, “that Dorothy would have made a very good nurse.”

  “Good for Dorothy!”

  “What do you mean?” Clifford looked at her suspiciously.

  “Oh, just that it’s always good to encourage independence, isn’t it? You must have been pleased that she was so encouraging.”

  “Ye-es. I suppose so.” Clifford put down his coffee cup and wiped his mouth on his napkin. “Mavis, shall we go to bed?”

  Mavis beamed at him. She had redeemed a dodgy situation and would get her reward after all.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  The following night, Pussolini died. He died without fuss, curled up on Maudie’s bed, as though he had finally given up waiting for her return. When Mavis lifted his fragile corpse, it felt like a tiny bag of bones. It was hard to imagine that this little scrap of a cat had once been so large and so full of life and energy and sheer animal vitriol. She dug a hole under the lilac tree and buried him, wrapped in Maudie’s old flannel nightie, for which he had always had a particular fondness.

  When she had finished, Mavis went indoors for a solitary wake of tea and biscuits. Sitting at the kitchen table, feeling the silence of the empty house closing in around her, she wept. She wept for Pussolini and his miserable last few weeks; she wept for poor Maudie, who had loved him so much and who would never know of his passing (she had to admit that in this instance, Clifford had been right); and she wept for herself.

  For the first time in her life, Mavis felt entirely alone.

  The Fifth Meeting: October

  Since Alice, Gabs, and Mavis had now got to know one another so much better, further official meetings seemed unnecessary. However, they had promised one another that they would keep them up for a year, and so an October get-together was to be arranged.

  “What are you all doing this time?” Finn asked Alice. “Is it your turn to sort it?”

  “I’ve lost count. But I don’t mind doing it.”

  “Can I come?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? I like them. Especially Gabs.” Finn grinned.

  “That’s one of the reasons why not. Besides, you wouldn’t want me tagging along when you’re out with your friends, would you?”

  “You wouldn’t want to come.”

  “True.”

  “Well then.”

  “The answer’s still no.”

  “Okay. But what are you going to do?”

  “Well, I think it would be nice to include Maudie.”

  “Is she allowed out?”

  “She’s not a prisoner. Of course she’s allowed out.”

  This idea had in fact only just occurred to Alice, but as she was an honorary member of the group, it seemed somehow mean to leave Maudie out. She phoned Mavis and put the idea to her.

  “I don’t know.” Mavis sounded doubtful. “She’s awfully confused. And heavy. She’s put on a lot more weight.”

  “She’s been awfully confused for ages. It might do her good. As for being heavy, with three of us we ought to be able to manage.”

  “But she hasn’t been out at all yet.”

  “Then perhaps it’s time she did. Are you all right, Mavis? You sound a bit low.”

  “I’ve just buried the cat.”

  “Oh, I am sorry.”

  “Thank you. Everyone else seems to think I should be pleased to be rid of him, but I’m not.”

  “Of course you’re not. He might have been a bugger, but he was part of your family. And at least he had a personality. He wasn’t one of those bland, boring lap cats.”

  “That’s true.” Mavis laughed. “Someone once tried to pick him up and put him on her lap. I thought he was going to kill her.”

  “Quite right, too.” Alice hesitated. “Was Clifford nice about it?”

  “No. Not at all.”

  “I’m sorry.” Alice privately thought that Clifford sounded quite awful, but was wise enough not to say so. “All the more reason for an outing, then. For you and for Maudie. Where do you think she’d like to go? Where would she choose if she could?”

  “The zoo. She loved going to the zoo. She said seeing all those animals was like travelling, but without the bother. But I don’t think there’s a zoo near enough.”

  “There’s that big country house. It’s got a safari park. Even better than a zoo if you want to travel.”

  “Don’t the monkeys climb all over the cars? I’ve heard they do awful damage.”

  “Tha
t’s part of the fun. Finn used to love it when he was little. We can take my car. It’s so old it won’t mind the monkeys, and I don’t think we’d all fit into that pink thing of Gabs’.”

  Alice needed cheering up, and the idea of taking Maudie to a safari park would certainly help. When she phoned Gabs, it sounded very much as though Gabs could do with cheering up, too.

  “What’s the matter?” Alice asked.

  “Don’t ask,” Gabs said. “Long story.”

  “Long stories can be shortened.”

  “Not this one. And not over the phone.”

  “Okay. Well, we’re thinking of taking Maudie to the safari park.”

  Gabs thought this was a great idea.

  “I’m just a bit concerned about the lifting,” Alice said. “She’ll need heaving in and out of the car, and she’s awfully heavy. In the home they have a hoist thing.”

  “That’s because of fucking health and safety. Nurses are wimps these days. They’re not allowed to lift a cup of tea without getting help. Leave it to me. We’ll manage. I haven’t yet found anyone I can’t lift.”

  “Are you allowed to? Lift people at work, I mean?” Alice asked.

  “What do you think?”

  “Okay. Silly question.”

  “We can bring a picnic, and have it in the car.”

  “No dope, though.” The thought of drug-induced euphoria in a smallish car surrounded by wild animals was not an attractive (or safe) one.

  “Absolutely no dope.”

  October can be one of the loveliest of months, and so it was on the day of the outing: a golden day of warm sunshine and gently falling leaves, spiced up with the lightest of breezes. The three women collected Maudie from her home, where Gabs’ offers of help were dismissed as she was winched into the car by a terrifying machine and several care assistants (“What a load of bollocks,” muttered Gabs), and they were off.

  At first, Maudie was subdued and appeared bewildered by the sudden change of scene after her lengthy incarceration, but after a while she became chatty and cheerful, and while no one could understand what she was saying, it was good to see her looking more like her old self. She was wearing some rather peculiar clothes, which Mavis said were not her own (clothes in the home appeared to be interchangeable among the residents), but she added that since Maudie didn’t mind what she wore, there was no point in making a fuss.

  They had chosen a weekday, so the safari park wasn’t crowded, and after they’d bought their tickets and a bag of animal food, they were able to drive straight in.

  At the sight of the first animal (a hippo), Maudie was completely carried away.

  “Bad!” she cried. “Oh, bad!” She waved and laughed and tapped on the car window. “Bad!”

  “They’re not bad, Maudie,” Alice said. “They’re nice hippos. Can you say hippos?”

  “I wouldn’t worry,” Mavis told her. “These days, everything’s bad. It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Giraffes and deer stuck their heads through the car window, and Maudie fed them from her bag of food, dropping bits all over the floor of the car and even popping one or two into her own mouth. By the time she’d finished, her hand and clothes were covered with animal slobber, and she appeared to be in seventh heaven.

  “Bad. Slumpish!” she cried, trying to pat the nose of a strange stripy creature with a runny nose. “Slumpish!”

  “Well, this was certainly a good idea,” Alice said. “She’s having a wonderful time.”

  When they reached the monkey enclosure, they closed the car windows, as instructed, and drove slowly through, oohing and aahing over the babies and laughing at their antics as they slithered over the roof of the car and tried to dismantle a wing mirror. No one noticed Maudie opening the window, possibly because everyone assumed she was incapable, and it may have been open for several minutes before disaster struck.

  It is amazing how quickly cute and cuddly can turn into ferocious and terrified, but that’s what happened when a large and very obviously male monkey managed to get into the car.

  “Bad!” yelled Maudie as it landed on her lap. “Bad, bad, bad!”

  Bad indeed. The monkey, which had been confident and very much at home outside the car, became a reluctant and very angry passenger inside it. Immediately there was pandemonium, while the monkey flew round the interior of the car like a whirlwind, ricocheting off laps and shoulders and windows, shrieking and chattering, biting and scratching.

  “Bloody hell! What do we do?” cried Gabs as she tried to detach two small and very sharp hands from her hair.

  “Food! Give it some food!” cried Mavis.

  “I think it’s beyond food.” Gabs gave their guest’s shiny red bottom a slap. “Get out, you fucking animal! Get out!”

  “Let’s open all the windows,” Mavis said.

  “No. Because then they’ll all try to get in. Ouch!” The monkey tore at Alice’s shirt. “Get off, you little shit!”

  More monkeys, attracted by the noise, were gathering on the bonnet of the car. Their friend, desperate to join them, thumped and scratched at the windscreen, screaming monkey obscenities. Maudie was beside herself with what appeared to be a mixture of fear and delight, and Alice was having one of those moments where you know everything will probably be all right in the end and that you will dine out on this story for years, but in the meantime your mind has entered a state of paralysis.

  Fortunately, just when it seemed that the situation could only get worse, the monkey finally realised how it had got in, and made a swift and noisy exit, peeing on Maudie’s lap as it went and leaving the occupants of the car frightened and exhausted.

  “For God’s sake, close that window, somebody!” Gabs was the first to recover. “And to think I used to think monkeys were rather sweet!”

  Alice leaned across Maudie and wound up the window.

  “Fucking animal,” said Maudie, loudly and clearly. “Fucking, fucking, fucking!”

  “Mother!” said Mavis.

  “Never mind that. Blame me, if you like,” Gabs said. “Besides, she spoke! She actually said something that meant something.”

  “And she’s right. It was a fucking animal.” Alice brushed herself down. “Is everyone okay?”

  Considering the malevolent mood of the monkey and the sharpness of its claws, they had got away lightly. Everyone had acquired a few superficial scratches, and Gabs had a rip in her T-shirt, but otherwise there was little harm done.

  “I think,” said Alice, starting the engine, “that I’ve had enough of monkeys for one day. Bears, anyone?”

  Back in the carpark, they mopped Maudie up as best they could, but she was sticky from animal saliva, very dishevelled, and thanks to the monkey’s parting gift, she smelt terrible.

  “Oh dear,” said Mavis, scrubbing at Maudie’s skirt with a tissue. “What will they think back at the home?”

  “They’ll think she had one hell of a good time, and that’s what matters,” Gabs said, laying out a rug on the grass beside the car. “Mavis, they’re paid to clean her up, so let them do it. Chill out, will you?” She produced a bottle of wine and some glasses. “Wine, anyone?”

  “Should we?” Mavis asked, sitting down and getting out several neat Tupperware containers. (Gabs might have known that Mavis was a Tupperware person. She herself favoured plastic bags.)

  “Yes,” said Gabs. “We certainly should. Heaven knows, we’ve earned it. Besides, we always have wine.”

  “Bad?” Maudie held out her hand. “Oh, bad!”

  “Of course you can have some, Maudie.” Gabs poured her half a glass. “There you go.”

  Gabs was in a quandary. She was longing to tell the others about her disastrous meeting with Father Augustine, but was pretty sure they would disapprove. On the other hand, who else could she talk to? Steph was still barely speaking to her, and there wasn’t anyone else.

  “I need to talk,” she said. “Please.”

  “Fire away,” said Alice. “After all, that’s wh
at we’re here for, isn’t it?”

  “You’re not going to like this,” Gabs said. “Either of you.”

  “Oh,” said Alice, putting down her glass.

  “Yes. Oh.”

  “You haven’t!”

  Gabs nodded. “I’m afraid I have.”

  “How?” Mavis asked after a moment. “How on earth did you manage it?”

  So Gabs told them. She spared them some of the details, but otherwise she gave them a pretty accurate picture of what had happened.

  “So there it is. I’ve told you. And please don’t be furious, because Steph has been giving me a hard time ever since it happened, and I know I’m in the wrong, I know what I did was awful, and no one can be angrier with me than I am with myself. But I can’t turn the clock back.”

  “Would you?” Alice asked. “If you could?”

  “Oh yes. A hundred times, yes. I never thought I’d be saying this, but it was the worst, most selfish, stupid, thoughtless thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  “Goodness,” Alice said. “This isn’t like you, Gabs.”

  “You mean I’m incapable of remorse? That I plough my way through people’s lives making them miserable and not giving a damn?”

  “Of course not —”

  “Because you’d be right. On this occasion, anyway.”

  “So what now?” Mavis asked. “How is — Father Augustine?”

  “He’s gone.”

  “Gone where?”

  “I’ve no idea. I suppose he must have told the powers that be what happened, and he’s probably been despatched to a monastery on a remote Scottish island to live on bread and water and beat himself with twigs.”

  “Really?” Mavis asked.

  “No, of course not. But they’ll have sent him somewhere to teach him to mend his ways; and they weren’t his ways, they were mine. The fault was all mine.” Gabs grabbed a handful of tissues from her bag and wiped her eyes. “And the worst thing of all is that that he wrote me a letter and apologised! He insisted that it was his fault, and he actually apologised. To me.” She buried her face in her hands and wept openly. “I loved him, you know. I loved him so much!”