by Rhoda Baxter
Peter shivered and sighed. His face softened. ‘Sally,’ he said. ‘Why did you lie to me? You swore there was nothing else you hadn’t told me.’ He pulled up the chair and sank into it.
Oh. He’d found out about that other loan. ‘It had meant to be short term. I was going to pay it back within a couple of months of the wedding.’ She was going to claim she’d done some shopping or something and pay it off on one of his credit cards.
She shrugged. It was only a few hundred quid. Not a big deal. She would have won it back in no time. ‘There’s lots of shit I haven’t told you, you idiot. You’re so trusting, you never thought anyone would lie to you. How your business associates don’t hoodwink you, I have no idea.’
Peter put his head in his hands for a moment before sighing again and looking up. ‘You didn’t have to lie to me. I would have understood. I don’t know what it’s like to have grown up with an alcoholic parent, but I would have tried to understand. We could have helped her, like I helped you.’
‘What?’ Sally sat bolt upright. ‘What alcoholic parent? I don’t have an alcoholic parent. What are you on about?’
How the hell had he found out about her mother? Glenda must have broken her promise and talked to Peter. She should have known better than to trust a bloody alkie. ‘I’ll bloody kill her.’
‘We could have taken her to Alcoholics Anonymous.’ Peter continued talking. ‘We could have helped her beat it. It’s an addiction. There’s things that can be done to help. Just like Gamblers Anonymous helped you.’
‘And you know all about addiction do you? You think you can just drag someone to some limp wristed support group and then voila, everything’s better. You think addiction is just a bad habit you can drop? Like giving up chocolate? I’ve got news for you, Peter. It’s not like that in the real world. It’s all very well for you, with your mum that cooks you food all week and your dad with his golf buddies. You’ve never had to find your old man hanging from the banister because he couldn’t bring in enough money to pay the rent.’
Peter sighed again. ‘I can’t help wondering,’ he said, staring at the body in the bed. ‘What else you’ve lied to me about. She said she came to see you on our wedding day. You never said. She’s my mother in law. Didn’t you think I should have the right to meet her?’
‘No. Even I don’t want to bloody meet her. She just won’t go away. Like a bad smell.’
‘I feel like I don’t know you any more.’
‘Well, darling, you don’t. Not a bit. What’s more, I don’t think you ever did want to know me. You just wanted your bit of fluff wife. So long as you had the long hair to play with and the body to shag, I’m sure you were all right. I would have kept the house for you and cultivated your contacts and we’d have both been happy. Just wait until I get my body back. I’m going to show Glenda what happens when she interferes.’
Peter was silent for a while longer. Sally jumped off the bed and paced. What had her mother told Peter? He was clearly upset about whatever it was. Every so often, she glanced at him. He was still staring at the body in the bed. Sally resumed pacing. There had to be a way to find out what Glenda had told him.
Peter stood up. ‘I’m sorry Sally. I have to go.’ He blew a kiss to the woman on the bed and strode out, pulling his jacket tighter as he went.
Sally stared after him. His head was bowed. She went back into her room and sat on the bed. This was not good. When she got her body to wake up, she needed Peter to still be in love with her. She needed to do something. The only way she was going to get anything done, was by enlisting Grace’s help. ‘Well that’s just bloody awesome, isn’t it?’
Grace was on her knees, painting a skirting board when Sally popped up behind her. She was so used to it now, that she didn’t even jump. ‘Hi,’ she said, not taking her eyes off her brush.
Sally paced, her big wedding skirts swishing around her as she walked. Grace sat up and put her brush down. ‘What’s up?’
‘My mother went to see Peter.’ More pacing.
Grace went back over what she knew about Sally. She knew her father had killed himself. The horror of that explained a lot about Sally’s need to pursue a dream. But her mother? Sally rarely mentioned her mother. Grace had assumed her mother was dead, but clearly, she wasn’t. ‘I didn’t know your mum was living around here,’ she said, carefully.
Sally swung round. ‘I don’t like to talk about her. She’s … awful. I’d rather pretend she wasn’t around.’
Grace thought about her own mother and felt a pang of sadness for the time she’d had with her. She couldn’t imagine having her mother and ignoring her. ‘Why?’
‘You have to help me. I need to know what she said to Peter.’
Grace shook her head. ‘I don’t understand. You don’t want your husband to know about your mother? I can understand you don’t get on with her, but to pretend she doesn’t exist? That’s just not normal.’
‘But you’ll help me, right?’ said Sally
‘No. Not until you explain.’
Sally gave a theatrical sigh. ‘Fine.’ She sank to the floor in a pouf of wedding dress.
Grace slid the lid back onto the paint tin and settled to listen. Sally started talking. She told Grace about her mother. And her father. And about a small posy of forget-me-nots.
Chapter Fifteen
The neighbourhood was one Grace had never been to before. The tidy suburban front gardens had given way to places with wonky garden fences and weedy tangles. There were cars with no tyres and rotting sofas where flower beds should have been.
‘Are you sure about this?’ Grace’s whole body was tense. As she drove along the road, avoiding as many pot holes as she could, people turned to look at her. She half expected a brick though the windscreen any minute.
Sally was waiting for her outside a crumbling Victorian house with a garden that looked like the Congo. Grace pulled in, hoping the crunching under the wheels was caused by gravel and not broken glass. She checked she hadn’t left anything lying around in the car before she got out to stand next to Sally.
Sally was looking at the house, her shoulders set as though she were psyching herself up to go in. ‘Now, do you remember what to say?’
‘I’m looking for Glenda and I have a message for her from the other side,’ said Grace.
‘Don’t let her talk you round to her side. She is the most convincing liar I’ve ever met. She can talk anyone against anyone. She pretty much drove my Dad to suicide. When he finally caved in and killed himself, she was all “oh no, poor me. I can’t live without him”.’ Sally went towards the door, delicately lifting her feet to avoid the dog excrement on the path. ‘She only started drinking so that she could hang out in bars to meet another man.’
Grace manoeuvred her way along the path, watching where she placed her feet. She had been reluctant to get involved with whatever this was that Sally was doing, but after a half an hour of being cajoled, pleaded with and pouted at, she’d agreed to go with Sally, just to get a bit of peace.
Sally waited for Grace to reach the broken doorstep. ‘Ready?’
Grace nodded. Sally’s relationship with her mother seemed to be a very confused one. Her own life had been so sheltered and loved. Sally’s life, she realised, was about as different from her own as it was possible to get. She rang the bell. The noise sounded strained, as though the bell chime was being strangled.
The door opened and a skinny girl in a vest top and shorts stared out at them with wide, vacant eyes. She seemed to look right through Grace.
‘Hi. I’m … er … looking for Glenda …’ Grace noticed the girl’s hugely dilated pupils. Either she’d been somewhere very dark indeed, or she was stoned. Given her expression, Grace was willing to bet it was the latter.
The girl didn’t reply, just walked unsteadily back into the house, leaving the d
oor wide open.
Grace looked at Sally, who shrugged. Grace stepped into the house. The smell smacked her in the face. It smelled of damp and stale food and marijuana. But overlaying it was the smell of air freshener, which made it all the more sickly. Swallowing down the urge to gag, Grace ventured into the hall.
‘Glenda is upstairs on the left,’ said Sally. ‘Come on.’
She led the way up. The windows above the stairwell shed a smoky sort of light in the gloom. Grace whispered ‘Are you sure about this?’
‘I’ve been here before,’ said Sally. ‘Of course I’m sure. This is Glenda’s room.’ Sally’s eyes gleamed. Her face was set in a hard scowl. The combination of the expression, the wedding dress and the fact that she was standing through a cardboard box left on the landing, made Sally look downright sinister. Grace shuddered.
‘Well, what are you waiting for? Knock,’ Sally said.
Grace raised an eyebrow. She was doing Sally a favour being here. ‘Pardon?’
Sally rolled her eyes. ‘Please.’
Grace nodded and rapped on the wooden door. There was a pause and someone rustled inside. Sally gave a tut and marched through the door before it was opened, leaving Grace on the landing alone.
‘Hey—’ Grace was interrupted when the door opened and a pair of watery eyes looked out. ‘Oh. Hi.’
‘Who are you? What do you want?’ The voice that went with the eyes seemed watery too.
‘Um … Glenda? My name’s Grace. I’m a friend of Sally’s. I need to talk to you.’
Glenda looked her up and down and let her in.
The first thing that Grace noticed was how empty the room was. There was a bed, a chair and some blankets. Not even a pillow. A coin operated heater in a corner seemed to be the only source of heat. Sally was looking at the mantelpiece where there was a photo of a family and a collection of empty bottles.
‘What do you want from me?’ Glenda sat down on the bed.
‘It’s a bit difficult to describe,’ said Grace. ‘I have … a message from Sally. She wants to talk to you.’
‘Oh my god. She died?’ What little colour there was in Glenda’s face drained away. ‘I didn’t see a notice in the paper. Peter promised he’d put an obituary in the Times. Did it only happen today?’
Grace looked at Sally for help. She didn’t like to lie to this woman. Sally made encouraging motions with her hands. ‘It’s … difficult to explain. I … can hear her.’ There. She’d not actually said Sally was dead.
Glenda stared at her for a moment before her face cleared. ‘Oh. You’re a medium.’
To Grace, the noun medium was synonymous with charlatan, but this was probably the best way to help Glenda understand. She sighed. ‘Yes. I suppose you could describe me as that.’
Glenda looked her up and down. ‘Don’t get me wrong, darling, but you don’t look like a medium.’
‘No. I don’t. The point is, Sally has some questions.’
‘I mean, there’s usually jewellery and stuff. And more … floaty clothes. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a medium in jeans.’
Grace shot Sally another plea for help. ‘Tell me something that only you know.’
‘Is she here?’ Glenda followed Grace’s gaze. ‘Sal? Are you there? Really?’ She raised her eyes to the ceiling, as though expecting Sally to be floating up there.
‘Don’t call me Sal. I bloody hate being called Sal.’
‘She says, please don’t call her Sal,’ said Grace. ‘I think she prefers Sally.’
Glenda’s eyes filled with tears. ‘Yes. She does. Oh Sally, it is you!’
Okay, so Sally’s mother was fairly gullible. ‘Yes. It’s her.’ Grace listened as Sally came up with a tirade of expletives.
‘She wants to know why you went to see Peter,’ Grace said, when Sally stopped. ‘I’ve removed a few swear words there, in case you thought it was too clean.’
‘She did like to swear, did Sal … I mean, Sally,’ said Glenda.
‘Stop referring to me in the past tense,’ said Sally. ‘I’m not bloody dead.’ She shot a glare at Grace. ‘Do NOT repeat that.’
‘Anyway, the answer to the question?’ Grace prompted Glenda. This could go on for a while and she didn’t really want to leave the car outside for too long.
‘I was worried. She’s my daughter. I hadn’t seen her come or go from the house for a year. I watched all night, sometimes. All I saw was Peter. So I eventually worked up the courage to go and ask him what happened. I worry,’ said Glenda. ‘I love her.’
Sally gave a loud ‘Hah’. Grace ignored her. ‘Do you want to tell me what happened?’ She asked Glenda gently. ‘Why are you and Sally not on friendly terms anymore?’ She’d heard Sally’s side of the story. She was curious to know Glenda’s.
Glenda sighed. ‘We were happy, once. We really were. But then he lost his job.’ She spread her hands. ‘He thought he was failing us … and he started to borrow money and couldn’t pay it back. In the end he just couldn’t face it.’ Her face was a picture of misery. Grace felt sorry for her.
‘Don’t listen to her sob story,’ said Sally. ‘She made him feel like crap. She used to come home and not talk to him all evening. He tried and tried and she didn’t give him anything to hold on to. No wonder he gave up. She knew he was borrowing money. All she had to do was go and talk to her sodding parents and they would have bailed us out. But no. She was too bloody proud for that. She cared more about her pride than she did about us.’
‘I think Sally wants to know why you didn’t go to your parents for help.’ Grace frantically tried to fill in the gaps. Were Glenda’s parents rich? Had she married against their wishes?
Glenda looked down at her hands. ‘I did. When Sally was at school and he was out looking for work. I went twice. Both times they wouldn’t let me in the door.’
Sally stopped mid curse. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘I loved him,’ said Grace. ‘I genuinely did. He and Sally were the centre of my world.’
‘That’s a load of bollocks,’ said Sally.
The door opened and the stoned girl from before walked in. ‘Glenda. There’s some visitors for you. They’re downstairs … oh. How did you get up here?’ She swayed a little on her feet.
‘Thanks, Chloe.’ Glenda made a little shooing motion to get the girl to leave the room.
‘Are you going to a wedding?’ said the girl, looking at where Sally was standing. ‘I want a big dress like that when I get married.’
Sally’s eyes widened. ‘You can see me?’
‘Durr, yeah. You look a bit weird though. The way you’re all faint at the edges. How’d you do that?’ She took a step closer.
Glenda looked from the girl to Grace and back again. ‘Wh—?’
Grace opened her mouth to speak, but Sally silenced her with an upraised hand. ‘You can see me,’ she said to the girl. She put her hand out and touched the girl’s face.
‘That tickles.’
‘You don’t feel cold?’ said Grace. Her mind was whirring. This girl was clearly stoned out of her mind. Perhaps she was able to comprehend all those things that the normal brain filtered out in order to be able to function normally. The professional in her tried to rationalise things. Perhaps this could lead to an explanation as to how Sally was visible to her.
‘A bit cold.’ The girl wriggled. ‘Stop it, it tickles. Ohh.’ Sally had just put and arm through her stomach. ‘That’s weeeeeird.’
Sally’s eyes narrowed. ‘I wonder.’ She stepped behind the girl and put her hands on her shoulders.
‘Sally, what are you doing?’ Grace didn’t like Sally’s expression. There was determination and something like malice in it.
‘An experiment.’ Sally stepped forward and disappeared. The girl’s eyes shot wider and then sh
e fell over.
‘Oh my god.’ Grace sprang forward.
‘What happened?’ said Glenda. ‘Don’t worry about her, she’s always falling over. Has something happened to Sally?’
The girl lifted up her head. ‘Sorry about that. Not sure I can work the legs.’ She sounded different somehow. It was the same voice but the tone and cadences were different. No slurring, for a start. Her head turned slowly to look at Glenda.
‘Sally?’ said Glenda. ‘Sally, is that you?’
‘Of course it’s me, you stupid bat. Your idiot friend couldn’t string a sentence together, could she?’ the girl said in Sally’s voice. ‘Why don’t you tell her the truth about you and Dad?’
‘But I did,’ said Glenda, speaking to the girl on the floor as though it was completely normal for someone to take over someone else’s body. ‘When Patrick died, I just couldn’t bear it. I felt I’d lost my main reason for living. I married him for love. I left everything for him. I would have done it all again to have him and Sally back.’
‘That’s not even remotely true!’ The girl’s head turned unsteadily to look at Grace. ‘She left me to cope with everything after Dad snuffed himself. I was fourteen, for Christ’s sake. She was supposed to be looking after me. She could barely look after herself. And then she started drinking. So I had another thing to worry about.’
‘I’m not strong like you, Sally. I couldn’t cope. I would have come out of it, eventually, but there wasn’t time.’
‘Well, I did okay without you. I’ve built myself a life and the last thing I need is you poking your drunken nose in and ruining it. You stay away from my Peter, or I swear to god I’ll make you sorry.’
