New Cardiff

by Charles Webb

  Mandy frowned.

  ‘A little red portable one.’

  ‘What does that have to do with anything.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘What if I do.’

  ‘I’d never seen a bright red one before.’

  Mandy shook her head.

  ‘It wasn’t yours?’

  ‘I’m just saying what if it was. What if it was red. What if red happens to be my favourite colour. What does any of that have to do with you.’

  Vera nodded. ‘Now that we have been formally introduced,’ she said, ‘I will say that, yes, not only was it a very cruel thing to do to Colin—unprovoked and unprincipled—but beyond that I will add that it was thoroughly rotten, nasty and unforgivable.’

  ‘He did forgive you,’ Mandy said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘He forgave you for it already.’ Mandy was standing on one of the painted lines that marked a parking space. A car moved slowly into the space just behind her and she took a step forward toward Vera.

  ‘Colin’s letter,’ Vera said.

  ‘He forgave you in that.’

  ‘Did you read the letter Colin sent me?’

  ‘He told me about it.’

  A man got out of the car behind Mandy and walked toward the store.

  ‘And I guess I can assume he told you about the part where he wished me a safe journey back to London.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘He told you that part.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So in other words,’ Vera said, making a gesture in Mandy’s direction, ‘that’s what this is all about.’

  ‘What.’

  ‘Our little tête-à-tête,’ she said, ‘is about why I’m still here.’

  Mandy shrugged.

  ‘Is that not what it’s about?’

  ‘It’s a free country,’ Mandy said.

  It was quiet for a moment. ‘Help me understand the relevance of that observation.’

  ‘You can do what you want,’ Mandy said. ‘But I would think after what happened, and the person did accept your apology, that you’d want to show them you really were sorry by letting them get on with their life.’

  ‘On with their life.’

  ‘If that’s what they wanted to do.’ Mandy shook her head slightly so hair no longer covered the side of one of her eyes.

  ‘And I’m preventing Colin from getting on with his.’

  Again Mandy shrugged.

  Vera looked back at her a few moments in silence, then cleared her throat. ‘This was the day I was giving up smoking, Mandy,’ she said, ‘but I just changed my mind.’ She opened the car door and reached over to the glove box to take out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. ‘Do you smoke?’ she said, coming back out and shutting the car door again.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Have you ever?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘When did you smoke.’

  ‘In high school.’

  Vera took a cigarette out of the pack and put it between her lips. ‘And did you find it hard to give up?’

  ‘Sort of.’

  ‘Well I admire you.’ She flicked the lighter and held the flame to the end of the cigarette till it was lit. ‘Did you go to high school here?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘New Cardiff High? Something like that?’

  ‘New Cardiff Regional.’

  ‘Regional,’ Vera said.

  ‘Right.’

  ‘And where’s that,’ Vera said. ‘Nearby?’

  ‘Over there,’ Mandy said, pointing off past the supermarket. ‘You can’t see it from here.’

  A four-by-four moved slowly between them and into a space. ‘Why don’t you come over here, Mandy. It seems a little chaotic to be conducting our discussion in the midst of moving traffic.’

  Mandy walked across the two empty spaces that separated them.

  ‘You seem like a nice person,’ Vera said, as Mandy came to stand in front of her.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I’m sure you are,’ Vera said. ‘I’m sure Colin wouldn’t spend time with someone who wasn’t nice.’

  ‘I’m sure you’re nice too.’

  Vera nodded. ‘I’m sure all three of us are nice people.’

  Mandy nodded.

  ‘I do feel at a slight disadvantage, though,’ Vera said, leaning back against the car, ‘knowing nothing about you except the direction of your school and the colour of your hair dryer, while you probably know quite a bit more than that about me.’

  ‘I don’t know so much.’

  ‘He hasn’t told you much?’

  She shook her head. ‘We mostly talk about other things.’

  Vera took a puff from her cigarette. ‘I guess it would be private to ask what they were.’

  ‘No,’ Mandy said. ‘Just the normal things people talk about.’

  ‘The weather?’ Vera said.

  ‘We’ve talked about that.’

  ‘What sort of day it is,’ Vera said, ‘that sort of thing.’

  Mandy nodded.

  ‘Whether it’s cold or warm.’

  ‘Right. Or windy.’

  ‘Raining,’ Vera said.

  ‘Snowing,’ Mandy said.

  ‘Oh? Has it snowed here yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘I see. You were planning one of your future conversations with him.’

  Mandy watched her tap the ash from her cigarette. ‘My point is we just talk about everyday things.’

  ‘But he must have said some little thing about me since he’s been here. You did know my name after all.’

  ‘He’s said things.’

  ‘But those were just between the two of you.’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘he once mentioned you went to some islands together.’

  ‘Islands.’

  ‘I don’t remember what they were called. I think they were down by Spain or somewhere.’

  ‘The Canaries?’

  Mandy nodded. ‘Those were the ones.’

  ‘How did that trip ten years ago come up.’

  ‘He was trying to think of a peaceful place he’d been to and he thought of that.’

  ‘A peaceful place.’

  ‘Right.’

  Vera looked down at the asphalt. ‘It’s nice to think of you and Colin sitting around remembering peaceful places you’ve been.’

  ‘Look, you asked me what he’d said about you and that was one thing.’

  ‘He probably didn’t mention how we met.’

  ‘How you met? Not really.’

  ‘He didn’t.’

  ‘Not really,’ Mandy said again. ‘He did say you’ve known each other all your lives.’

  ‘Actually longer than that,’ Vera said. She took another puff on her cigarette. ‘Although I can’t imagine that this would be a particularly absorbing topic for you.’

  ‘How could you know each other longer than all your lives.’

  ‘He really didn’t tell you this?’ Vera said, turning her head so she wouldn’t blow smoke in Mandy’s face. ‘It’s by far his favourite story.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I really am amazed.’

  ‘How could you know each other longer than all your lives,’ Mandy said again.

  ‘Okay,’ Vera said, ‘since he didn’t mention it—it is mildly amusing, I suppose, if you haven’t heard it before. Anyway, our mothers had the same doctor. And they both happened to be in the doctor’s waiting room one day at the same time, waiting for their appointments. They’d never seen each other before.’

  ‘Your mothers.’

  ‘Oh, they were pregnant,’ Vera said. ‘I almost left out the whole point of the story.’

  Mandy nodded.

  ‘So there they were, sitting side-by-side in two chairs. Are you absolutely sure Colin never …’

  ‘He really didn’t.’

  ‘He would have, sooner or later. I don’t think there’s anyone else we know who hasn’t heard the story from Colin at least a hundred times
. So there they were, sitting in the two chairs, when one of us—and they’ve never been able to agree which one of us it was—kicked.’ She took a quick puff from the cigarette. ‘And that one’s mother—you should hear the arguments, to this day, over which mother it was—put her hand on her tummy, turned to the other one beside her, and said, “Oh dear, that was a sharp one.” Or words to that effect. At which point the other mother suddenly put her hand on her stomach and said, “There goes mine now. See what you’ve started.” So that’s how our mothers met, and I guess you could say that’s how Colin and I met—it was a couple of months later that we came out, I was five days ahead of him—and of course the great family joke is that we’ve been kicking each other ever since.’ Vera looked over at the supermarket and at an assistant carrying two heavy sacks of groceries out behind a customer. ‘But this is honestly and truly the first time you’ve heard that story?’ she said, looking back at Mandy.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Of course I’m so tired of it by now I go out of the room whenever it comes up,’ Vera said, taking a final puff on her cigarette and dropping it beside her foot. She ground it out with the toe of her shoe. ‘In July,’ she said, ‘when the two families were in Sweden, I said, “I am not leaving this hotel room till I have promises from every one of you that no one is going to make even the most oblique reference to The Story,”—at this point it’s just called The Story—but I actually made them swear not to bring it up before I’d go sightseeing with them.’

  Mandy was looking down at the front tyre on Vera’s car. ‘The two families went to Sweden?’

  ‘We all go on holiday together every July—the five of us, that includes Alicia, my little sister—it’s one of God knows how many traditions that have sprung up between the two families over the years—Christmas, all the birthdays, so on and so on.’ She glanced at Mandy, her head still bowed as she studied the ground. ‘Of course whether any of the traditions survive Alicia’s and my little wedding invitation caper remains to be seen. And on top of everything else—but you know about his father’s situation.’

  Mandy looked up at her. ‘His what?’

  ‘His father’s health? I’m sure he mentioned that.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Oh now, come on.’

  ‘What about it.’

  ‘Are you saying to me that Colin never even once mentioned his father’s current health situation to you?’

  ‘He hasn’t.’

  ‘Well this is just …’ Vera shook her head. ‘I’m flabbergasted.’

  ‘Well could you tell me what it is?’

  ‘Did he even tell you he has a family?’ Vera said, frowning at her.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But nothing about them?’

  ‘He told me about them.’ She shrugged. ‘He said they have a music store, they sell instruments and things.’

  ‘The store,’ Vera said, putting her hand up to her forehead. ‘How will Iris cope with the business by herself if something goes wrong.’

  ‘Vera, will you please tell me what’s the matter with his father?’

  ‘A few weeks ago, Colin Senior was diagnosed positive. So it’s certain now he’ll have to go in for the operation as soon as they can schedule him.’

  ‘Diagnosed positive with what,’ Mandy said.

  Vera crossed her arms over her chest. She looked out toward the highway.

  ‘Vera?’

  ‘Mandy,’ she said, keeping her face turned away, ‘I’d prefer not to talk about this any more if that’s all right. When I think of the consequences Alicia’s and my thoughtlessness could have …’

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it,’ Mandy said, ‘but could you tell me one thing?’

  ‘If I can.’

  ‘The reason you’re not going back to England,’ Mandy said.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I mean the trick you played on Colin is why he came over here.’

  Vera nodded.

  ‘And you don’t want to go back till he does.’

  ‘True.’

  ‘Okay, but how much of the reason you want him to go back is because of his father.’

  ‘All of it.’

  ‘All of it?’

  ‘But I can’t tell him that.’

  ‘Why not.’

  ‘I just can’t, Mandy,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I can see how much he enjoys being with you. It’s such a nice change for him from all the doctors and hospitals, and the constant worry. I just don’t have the heart to spoil the fun his trip to America turned out to be for him.’

  ‘But why didn’t he tell me about this.’

  ‘He just didn’t want to think about it for the time being. And I can understand that—can’t you?’

  ‘In a way maybe, but …’

  A teenage boy wheeled a trolley piled high with cans of motor oil past them.

  ‘I’d rather not talk about this any more,’ Vera said.

  ‘We don’t have to, if it’s painful.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  They glanced over at the boy as he bent down to pick up a can of oil that had fallen off.

  ‘Anyway,’ Vera said, ‘there’s a favour you could do for me if you wanted.’

  ‘What’s that.’

  ‘But I don’t want you to feel you have to.’ She opened the door of her car again. ‘It will probably seem a little unromantic,’ she said, reaching across to her grocery bag on the far seat, ‘so do say if you’d rather not.’ She began rummaging around in the bag, then came back out of the car holding a cellophane-wrapped package in her hand. ‘I could perfectly well drop these off at his room myself. I just thought if you were going over there anyway …’ She held the package out to Mandy.

  ‘Underpants,’ Mandy said.

  ‘But I really don’t want you to be made to feel like an errand girl if it would take any of the fun out of things for you and Colin.’

  ‘No, I can do it.’ She took them from Vera.

  ‘You’re absolutely sure.’

  ‘It won’t take the fun out of things.’

  ‘Because the other morning when I saw he’d gone off not even wearing underpants,’ Vera said. ‘Well let’s just put it this way—I think it’s in both our interests that the poor man doesn’t have to go on walking around all day with the inside of his zip scraping against his private parts.’

  Although Mandy nodded after Vera finished speaking, her gaze had returned to the general direction of the tyre.

  Vera looked at her watch. ‘I’m keeping you,’ she said. She held out her hand. ‘Mandy, I’m so glad we had the chance to meet and have our little talk. And I’m so reassured that Colin’s in such good hands during this difficult time.’

  Still without looking up, Mandy shook her hand.

  ‘And maybe I don’t seem quite the ogre you pictured either.’

  ‘You don’t.’

  ‘Oh, good, Mandy.’ Vera let go of her hand, got back in her car, pulled on her safety belt and drove away.

  For a long time Mandy stood holding the underpants at her side, and looking at the empty space where Vera’s car had been. Then someone whistled at her, and she turned and walked quickly to her own car.

  When Colin got to Shining Shores he was told by one of her co-workers that Mandy had tried to call him when she found out she was leaving early, but when he hadn’t been at the motel she told the co-worker to explain what had happened if Colin was there at five. She said she’d keep trying him during the afternoon, to save him an unnecessary trip, though obviously she had failed to make contact.

  By the time Colin got back to the motel, she had been there and left.

  As soon as he walked into his room he could tell by the empty hangers in the open closet that she’d gone.

  He walked quickly to the closed door of the bathroom, pushed it open and looked inside. ‘Mandy?’

  He turned in a circle. ‘Mandy.’

  Colin hurried back across the room, and was about to go outside again when suddenly he s
topped. He looked down at a cellophane-wrapped package on the seat of the chair and after a few moments reached down to pick it up. ‘Vera.’

  12

  After she’d been in New Cardiff nearly a week Vera decided the time had come to resolve the issues between herself and Colin, and the place she chose for their discussion was a golf course she’d noticed on one of her drives around the town.

  As she explained to Colin when she called to propose the meeting, the stresses she’d encountered in America, far from enabling her to give up her smoking habit—something she’d tried to do off and on over the years, and something she’d hoped the change of scene might help her accomplish—had caused it to escalate, and she was up to almost two packs a day, the highest consumption she’d ever attained.

  Since there seemed nowhere indoors in New Cardiff to smoke, and since it wouldn’t have been suitable for such a serious discussion simply to wander around the town smoking, she suggested the golf course, where she’d stopped the day before and learned it was permissible to smoke as long as a distance was kept from other golfers and the smoker carried the extinguished cigarette butts back to the clubhouse in a small plastic bag, which would be furnished prior to their going out on to the links.

  With hundreds of accessible square miles in every direction, Colin asked, why did Vera not feel she could go off some place in the woods and smoke while they talked, but she responded that it was hard enough to concentrate in the rural village atmosphere of New Cardiff, but to be dwarfed by all of nature would altogether distract her from the matters at hand, and at least with a mown lawn under her feet, along with the pacifying effect of the nicotine, her anxiety might be reduced to levels where she could begin gaining perspective on the upheaval taking place in their lives.

  Colin walked through the car park and toward the clubhouse, where Vera was standing beside the entrance. ‘I’ve already paid our fees,’ she said, as he approached. She held up a large plastic tag with ‘27’ on it. ‘This is our number.’ She turned and started through the entrance.

  ‘Vera?’

  ‘It’s too late to reserve a golf cart,’ she said, looking back at him. ‘I told them we probably wouldn’t need a caddy.’

  ‘Could you stop a minute?’

  She stopped and came a step back toward him.

  ‘Is all this supposed to be funny?’ Colin said.