What Goes Around...

by Carol Marinelli

  Oh, but that’s not enough for them.

  ‘Could we be there when you discuss the service with the vicar?’

  I’m the nicest stepmother I know. ‘Of course,’ I say. ‘He’s coming this evening. You’re more than welcome to come over.’ I receive reluctant thanks and while I’m being so nice and reasonable, I decide that it’s time for them to be.

  ‘Is Eleanor home from the hospital?’ There’s another round of silence but I push on. ‘Only, I tried to ring and left a message. The thing is, Charlotte’s desperate to see the baby and normally your dad would have taken her to visit by now. I was going to ring Noel…’

  That prompts her to speak. ‘Eleanor’s still in the hospital.’

  ‘Is everything okay?’ I ask.

  ‘Just a few problems with feeding - the baby was a bit small.’

  ‘Okay.’ I think of Charlotte, I think of the one piece of good news I can give her and it forces me to speak on. ‘I might bring Charlotte in to visit this afternoon.’

  ‘Mum’s there a lot.’

  That was my warning not to go, I tell Jess. She really is the most amazing friend. Jess has taken this week off work. There is just so much to sort out and we’re wading through it and she's helping me–but she won't help me with this. ‘Please Jess, I can’t have Mum take her…’

  Mum will say something wrong, I know it.

  Mum will say too much, for sure.

  Mum doesn’t give a fag who knows.

  ‘Please, can you just do this?’ But the answer is no, Jess won’t take Charlotte to see the baby, it's something she thinks that I have to do myself.

  ‘I can't!’ I'm horrified at the prospect, especially as Alice has practically told me that Gloria will be there. ‘I just can't walk in and face Gloria. I can't face any of them.’

  I’m not worried about Eleanor, things aren't so terrible between us–she was already married by the time her parents broke up and she and Noel have always been polite with me and lovely with Charlotte. Though it is going to be a bit awkward to see her. We’d guessed that the baby might not be Noel’s when we found out Noel had left a couple of weeks ago. We’d sort of worked it out…

  We.

  I feel panic closing around me. I’m not a part of a we any more – it’s just me.

  He used to do all of this.

  ‘Please Jess?’ I hate to ask again, Jess has done so much already, but I hate even more that she's holding my hands and shaking her head.

  ‘You need to do this Lucy.’

  ‘I can’t,’ I beg. ‘Gloria will be there.’

  ‘Gloria might be at the funeral,’ Jess voices my dread. ‘It might be easier all around if you see her beforehand and just get it out of the way.’

  ‘I can’t!’ Apart from Monday, I haven't seen Gloria in ages. He always dealt with that side of things. The last time I saw Gloria, I was pregnant with Charlotte–that's how long it's been. None of his children came to my wedding and it was considered for the best that I wasn’t invited to Bonny and Lex’s - but a few months later, when they emigrated to Australia, he insisted that I come with him to the airport to say goodbye. That really was the last time I was there with all of them.

  ‘Lucy.’ Jess knows them too, knows what they can be like, know just how difficult that family can be at times, because Luke is still in touch with Gloria. ‘You're going to have to get used to seeing them.’ She confirms what I don't want to know. ‘They’re Charlotte’s family and just because her dad is dead, you can't take them away from her…’ Her voice fades off and I turn around and there is Charlotte standing at the living room door.

  She’s lost weight.

  She's just a tiny little thing anyway, and she can't really afford to lose weight. It's written on her face–the strain that she is under. I've told her that she doesn't have to go back to school until after the funeral, but it’s taking so long that I don't know if it was the right thing to do. She needs one good thing, she needs this to happen and, stuff the lot of them, I'm taking my daughter to see her niece. I don't care how uncomfortable it is for them.

  ‘Eleanor and the baby are still in the hospital,’ I tell Charlotte. ‘I thought perhaps we could go and see them this afternoon.’ She lets out this tiny squeal of excitement. You can actually see the grief lift from her as, for a moment, she gets to be an eleven-year-old again but then she starts to worry.

  ‘We haven’t got her a present.’

  ‘Mum’s going to go to the shops and get one now,’ Jess says and my eyes widen in panic, I'm just not ready to go out. For Charlotte I'll go to the hospital, but I absolutely cannot face the shops but it would seem that Jess has been busy. ‘I booked you a hair appointment,’ Jess winks. ‘Can't let those Nordic good looks fade.’

  ‘I'm not going to the hairdresser’s.’ It just seems wrong, people already think that I'm a cold-hearted bitch and they’re going to think it even more if I'm out getting my hair done when he's only been dead a few days.

  ‘He'd want you to look good,’ Jess says and it's true, it was all he wanted from me and, even if they're not quite showing, I do have roots. If I don't deal with them now, by the funeral they'll be there for all to see.

  It matters.

  It mattered to him.

  And it still matters to me.

  It feels strange to be out. The car feels strange, as if I haven't driven in weeks. A bit like when you get in the car after a holiday, or after I had Charlotte and drove for the first time. There's a coffee cup in the cup holder and Monday’s newspaper is on the passenger seat. I have this bizarre thought that maybe I should keep it for Charlotte. ‘Here you are darling. This is the newspaper from the day Dad died.’ It’s the sort of thing my mum would suggest! The seat has been moved back. I remember somebody moved it to let the ambulance out - I just parked it and ran in.

  I move the seat forward and adjust the mirror and I start to sweat because I can see it again–what I came home to. I can see it in my rear-view mirror. I can see him lying on the floor and the smell of sex in the room and the paramedics and police and her standing there shivering. I don't want the world to know, except I feel it's all about to spill it out, that any day now the truth will be told, that I’ll be the talk of the village...

  I’m the talk of it now, mind.

  ‘Lucy!’ I’m wrapped in the bony embrace of Ricky the second I step in the salon. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I’m taken straight to a chair and there’s one of the mums from Charlotte’s school there and she gives me a sort of pussy cat smile but her eyes are narrowed at the sides and I can see her reaching for her phone – I can just picture the text she’ll be firing, how I’m up and I’m out, when presumably, I should be in bed sedated.

  At least Ricky understands. ‘Good on you, Lucy,’ he says. ‘I’m so proud of you for taking care of yourself.’

  ‘It’s what he’d have wanted.’ I say it loud enough for her to hear and I look up to the mirror and I see her hesitate before she smiles and agrees with me.

  Ricky is great, he doesn’t ask questions; he just makes me a coffee and lets me be. I do actually feel a whole lot better by the time he takes the cape off and I stand up.

  There’s another mum from the school coming in as I’m paying. I see her do a double take when she realises that it’s me, then she remembers her manners and offers her sympathy and asks when the funeral is but I pretend I’m about to cry and dash out.

  I haven’t cried yet.

  I did on the night it happened but I was crying then with anger and shame.

  I haven’t cried for him yet.

  I go to a boutique that I really like but they don’t have anything suitable in black and so I go into another one. I find a dress, it’s thin wool and it really is lovely, perhaps a tiny bit low cut for a funeral but I think it would be okay.

  ‘It’s a bit big,’ the assistant says. ‘I think you need the eight.’ She wanders off and comes back with a red one.

  ‘It’s for a funeral.’

  ‘
Try on the eight,’ she says. ‘I’ll ring around and see if we’ve got it in black in another store.’

  I try it on and I’m not so sure - it’s gone from demure to a bit tight and I walk out to see what the assistant thinks when, again, I hear my name.

  ‘Lucy!’

  They’re everywhere! It’s Simone and she sees me in brick red dress coming out of a changing room in a boutique with my hair just done. ‘You poor thing!’ She hugs me too but not in the nice way Ricky did, with Simone it’s a minimal contact hug, the air kiss hug I call it, one where you make sure you don’t get any make up on each other, or horse hair, or trade perfume or anything. ‘I couldn’t believe it when I heard. It’s such a shock.’

  ‘I know,’ I respond. ‘It’s just a terrible shock for everyone. Charlotte’s beside herself.’

  So why aren’t you with her? Simone doesn’t say it but I know that’s what she’s thinking.

  Everything that I do seems to be wrong

  Everything I say seems deemed inappropriate.

  I don’t know how I’m supposed to be.

  ‘I was going to bring Felicity over to see Charlotte,’ she says, ‘but I wasn’t sure you were up to visitors.’ She sort of looks down at me, at my red dress with the label hanging out. ‘You let me know when you’re ready. Just let me know if there’s anything I can do.’

  ‘It would be great if Felicity came over,’ I say. The shop’s too hot and the dress is too warm and I feel horrible and sweaty. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, how I’m supposed to be but I know that Charlotte needs her friends now.

  But maybe her friends don’t need me, because Simone does a quick recalculate. ‘Why doesn’t she come to us? It will give you a little break. I can come and get her when Felicity gets home from school.’

  ‘We’re going out,’

  Her face does not move, she says not a word but I still feel the need to justify that I’m not in bed sedated. That, like it or not, when you’ve got kids, the world just has to move on. ‘Her sister (half sister, but I don’t say - I keep my animosity to me) just had a new baby and we’re going to visit.’

  ‘Well, drop her over afterwards.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘When is the funeral?’

  Here we go again!

  ‘We’re not sure,’ I feel my voice thicken and I really don’t know what I mean by we’re - as if my husband has a say still, as if we’re sitting together in the evenings deciding on his fate, but I’ve said it once and now I can’t stop, I cram in two more into my answer. ‘We’re just waiting for the coroner; we should know soon.’

  She gives me that smile, the one I keep getting and a little pat on the arm and then, oh, what the hell, she gives me another air kiss hug and I’m left standing there and finally the shop assistant comes off the phone. ‘They’ve got it in black in our Islington branch,’ she tells me too late for Simone to hear. ‘Yes, the eight looks much better.’

  I’m still not sure, the eight just fits, the ten was too big, but I guess with hold it in knickers it might be okay. I say yes, for her to order it in and she tells me it will be here the day after tomorrow.

  There’s no one in the baby boutique that I know, or it would be all around the school that I’m barking mad with grief or pregnant. Maybe I am barking mad with grief because I pick up a little baby suit and it’s so tiny and beautiful that I hold it to my cheek. I remember being pregnant and buying tiny outfits like this for Charlotte and it makes me want to weep. I run my hands over the fabric, it’s soft and lemon coloured and dotted with tiny white daisies.

  I remember being here in this very shop, we were back from the most amazing honeymoon, we’d moved into the house and it was such a wonderful time… Then I look down and the tiny daisies blur before my eyes as, for the first time, I admit that maybe it wasn’t so wonderful, that the honeymoon wasn’t actually so amazing.

  I admit what I daren’t.

  I was lonely then too.

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Gloria

  They’re talking about discharging Eleanor and the baby tomorrow.

  Eleanor’s got support (me).

  The baby is taking its feeds now (from me) and isn’t requiring top ups and has reached her birth weight.

  They hope that in a home environment (mine), Eleanor might respond better to the baby. She’ll be kept a close eye on by the health visitor and GP (which again really means me) and if things don’t pick up then they’ll look at getting her into a mother and baby unit but they’re a bit hard to get into.

  I don’t think they’re ready to go home.

  I know I’m not ready to go home.

  It’s bedlam there at the moment. There’s Bonny, Alice and Hugh and I’ve got Eleanor’s other two kids coming and going and now Eleanor wants to come home with me.

  Which means, to top it all off, I have to make room for a newborn baby.

  As much as I love having the girls home…

  I stop myself there.

  The truth is - it’s driving me mad having them home.

  Does that make me a terrible mum?

  Perhaps.

  But I swear it’s easier here in the hospital.

  It’s so much easier to hide.

  Eleanor is in a single room and she just sleeps most of the time and I take care of the baby and watch some daytime TV. To tell you the truth, I'm enjoying the peace. I’m enjoying not having to deal with it all; I know what Bonny and Alice can be like. Yes, it's their dad, but how can they be so sure it's what he would want?

  The church.

  The hymns.

  The readings.

  I know I haven't seen him for an awful long time but he never really cared about that sort of thing.

  It was me who worried about all that sort of stuff.

  Still, I’m staying right out of it.

  Or I was trying to, until Alice rang to say that Lucy might be stopping by with Charlotte to visit the baby later this afternoon. I was about to say I’ll come home, because I really can’t stand the thought of coming face to face with Lucy, but then Alice uttered the immortal words - ‘What’s happening for dinner?’

  Honestly! You raise three independent girls, yet as soon as they cross back over the threshold, it's like having teenagers again. After he left, when I had to muster everything I could, just to get out of bed, the question would be the same.

  Every night.

  When I’m home, I am cleaner, chef, coffee maker, grief counsellor and sounding board and frankly, today, I'd rather face Lucy.

  ‘Surprise me,’ I say and hang up the phone and then I feel a bit mean, they have just lost their dad.

  I’ve lost him too.

  I sit there in the quiet.

  I lost him a long time ago, I remind myself.

  But it hurts.

  Perhaps rather more than it should.

  And there’s no one I can tell.

  It’s the same as the first time really – I just have to carry on.

  I see my granddaughter stirring; see her little eyes open. She's such a good baby, she doesn't wake with a cry, she just pops in her thumb.

  I actually want her to wake up just so that I can cuddle her, she’s been my only saving grace this week.

  Apart from Paul.

  I pick her up, even though she’s still asleep and it must be wind but I swear she’s smiling as I stand there holding her, blushing like a teenager as I recall.

  Paul kissed me last night.

  I was starting to think that maybe we were just friends, that maybe I’d got it all wrong but last night, when he dropped me home from the hospital, as I went to get out of the car, he stopped me.

  My face is on fire as I remember the shock of a kiss that got just a little bit out of hand.

  I thought I was past all that.

  I was sure I was past all that.

  Maybe I’m not.

  I let out a small laugh.

  She’s awake now and she’s such a dot, she’s just gazing
up at me and I smile down to her.

  ‘Oh, the stories your Nanny could tell you,’ I say to her.

  It’s not wind.

  I swear she smiles back at me.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Lucy

  It’s only when we turn into the hospital that I wonder if being here will upset Charlotte - but she doesn't seem to relate it to Monday. She's chattering away about the baby. I've never known her so excited, but then, I guess it's the first baby she's ever really had anything to do with. I'm an only child, so she doesn't have any cousins on my side and Bonny lives on the other side of the world and Eleanor’s other two are much older.

  ‘Do you think I'll get to hold her?’ Charlotte is holding the present as if it’s the baby as we walk along the corridor. ‘Do you think Eleanor will let me hold her?’

  ‘I think we’ll just have a little look today. She’s very new…’ I don't want Charlotte getting her hopes up. I know how horribly awkward this could be, but Gloria surely knows that I’m coming. She’ll probably have gone home, just in case, and Eleanor is always really nice to Charlotte.

  Not today.

  Eleanor doesn't look up and she doesn't look over as we walk into the room, she just carries on staring out of the window.

  And Gloria is there.

  I want to turn and run.

  I want to push Charlotte forward and tell her that I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.

  I do not want to face Gloria.

  I do not want to be here.

  Except I am.

  Whatever Gloria thinks of me, I'm very grateful when she puts it aside and smiles and speaks to Charlotte.

  ‘You came at just the right time!’ Gloria says to Charlotte. ‘She's just starting to wake up.’

  ‘I’ve got a present for her.’ Charlotte hasn’t noticed that Eleanor is ignoring her. She’s trying to be polite and not just dash to the baby, as she wants to. She’s trying to hand Eleanor the parcel but she doesn’t even give Charlotte a glance. I know exactly how Eleanor feels, because all I want to do is lie in a bed and stare out of a window. I want to not have to get up when Charlotte cries, or not have to answer the phone, or door, or even speak. Yes, I know how Eleanor feels, because I’d far rather be doing what she is, than organising the million and one things that you have to, when death comes in.