“Gosh. I’m sorry,” she said between sobs. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
“Don’t you?” Gabs fished a large and very male-looking handkerchief out of the holdall and passed it to Alice. “Course you do. Come on, Alice. Tell us.”
So Alice told them. She told them about Angela’s baby, about her fears and Jay’s assurances, and her desperate insecurity. She even told them about Trot’s proposal.
“Bloody hell! You have had a time of it, haven’t you?” Gabs moved across to Alice and rubbed her back sympathetically.
Alice nodded. “And I wanted his baby. I wanted his baby,” she wept. “I wanted Jay’s baby!”
Jay’s baby? Where on earth had all that come from? Occasionally she had thought it might be nice to have a baby with Jay, but obviously she must have felt more strongly about it than she’d realised. It had always been an impossibility, and so she thought she had put it out of her mind.
“Of course you want his baby,” said Gabs, refilling Alice’s wine glass.
“How awful for you,” said Mavis.
“Yes. But it’s the waiting that’s the worst. The not knowing what it’ll be like, what it will do to Jay. Angela may have quite a long wait, but I feel I’ve been lumbered with one as well. Before, I imagined we’d just carry on as we always have. Not ideal, but manageable. This is quite different. This is unknown territory.”
“Clifford has children,” Mavis said, “but they’ve always been there, so they haven’t really affected us. If he’d had one after we’d started seeing each other, I don’t know what I’d have done.”
As Gabs and Mavis discussed her situation, Alice was soothed by their interest and their understanding, and she was glad she hadn’t call the evening off, as she’d been tempted to. She was also grateful that neither had suggested that she should end her relationship with Jay. It was the obvious solution — if it could be called such a thing — but already they knew her well enough to see that at the moment, it was not an option.
“And the proposal?” Mavis asked. “No chance there, I suppose?”
Alice shook her head. “Trot’s not marriage material. He’s a good father to Finn; well, a good friend, anyway. But no. It wouldn’t work. Besides, I don’t think he really meant it. He was feeling sorry for me, that’s all.”
“And you don’t love him.”
“There is that.”
They all laughed, and Alice found herself relaxing. The evening was going better than she had expected, despite her emotional outburst, and Maudie seemed happy enough in her corner, tutting over a makeover show in the course of which some poor woman appeared to be having her breasts rearranged. At least I have nice boobs, she thought. I should be grateful for small (if a B cup could be called small) mercies. She poured everyone another glass of wine.
Mavis hadn’t wanted to come this evening. The prospect of dressing her mother up and persuading her out into the night and into a taxi just so that she could spend an evening with people she hardly knew was not an appealing one, but a sense of duty had prevailed. Now, after a glass of wine and Alice’s outburst, she was feeling a great deal better. There was nothing quite so cheering as talking to someone who was worse off than yourself, and Mavis didn’t envy Alice one bit. Alice might be younger and more attractive than she was (Mavis had no illusions about her appearance) and she might have that rather nice-looking son, but she wouldn’t be in her shoes for anything. She had no idea whether Clifford and Dorothy still had a sex life and she didn’t want to know, but to have indisputable evidence that the sex life was not only ongoing but had, so to speak, borne fruit would be unbearable.
“You said Clifford had children,” Alice said. “Have you ever seen them?”
“A couple of times. The first was a long time ago. I did that hanging around the playground thing, trying to guess which ones they were.”
“And did you? Guess, I mean.”
“No. I asked another child which ones they were.”
“And?”
“They weren’t at all what I’d expected. I suppose I thought they’d look like Clifford, and they didn’t at all. One even had red hair.”
“How did you feel?” Gabs asked.
“Nothing. I felt nothing.”
It had taken three bus rides and an entire morning for Mavis to get to the school, and then she’d had to hang around until the children came out into the playground after lunch. It was pouring with rain by the time she got there, and she’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. She’d taken shelter under a tree, anxious that if the weather continued like this the children wouldn’t be allowed out at all, but fortunately the rain eventually stopped, and as soon as the bell rang, they poured out into the playground, laughing and shouting, dauntingly similar in their red and grey uniforms. She had spent some time watching them, trying to pick out two that might be Clifford’s.
What was she looking for? Even all those years ago, Clifford’s figure was moving comfortably from well-built but distinguished towards plump and balding. She could hardly have expected his two little girls to resemble him. And of course, they didn’t. When they were finally pointed out to her (one was with a friend, practising handstands; the other was standing on her own eating an apple), she waited to see how she’d feel, and was surprised when she found that she had no feelings about them at all. They were quite nice-looking little girls, but they could have belonged to anyone.
“I think I expected to feel related in some way. I know that sounds ridiculous, but because I was so close to Clifford, I expected to feel something for his children. It was a relief in a way when I didn’t. I had been so afraid that I’d — oh, I don’t know — that I’d want them.”
“And you didn’t,” said Gabs.
“No. I didn’t.”
“Did you speak to them?”
“I didn’t get the chance. A teacher came over and asked me what I wanted. I think she thought I was planning something sinister, and so I left.”
“How are things now?” Alice asked, and Mavis realised that it was her turn to speak.
“Up and down. We had a falling-out, and had no contact for nearly three weeks.”
“What was that about?” Gabs asked.
So Mavis told them.
“A hypochondriac,” mused Gabs. “I don’t think I could put up with that.”
“I’m not sure I can, either,” Mavis said. “But the trouble is that this time, he was right. He’s got angina.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes. Actually, he seems rather pleased about it. He’s got this little puffer thing he uses and some pills to put under his tongue, and he’s making a bit of a meal of it.”
“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”
“That’s what Clifford says. But I think I’m running out of sympathy. The brain tumour and the cancer sort of drained me.”
“So?” Gabs asked.
“So we just carry on. I still love him — well, I think I do — but I refuse to worry. He’s got a good specialist. He and Dorothy can do the worrying.” Mavis realised that she sounded hard, but she’d had to toughen up recently, and the experience had been rather invigorating.
“What about sex?”
“We’ve done it once.”
“And?”
“He was fine, although he wanted… he insisted…”
“Yes?”
“He insisted that I should — be on top.” Mavis blushed. She’d never talked about this kind of thing before, and while she and Clifford had tried many positions in their time, it was not something she had ever imagined herself discussing with anyone else. Besides, this particular position was not one that showed her in a flattering light. Straddled across Clifford on Dennis’s bed in Dennis’s icy bedroom, she’d been too aware of his view of her dangling breasts and less-than-firm stomach to enjoy the experience.
“Not a bad position,” mused Gabs, the expert. “Although I could suggest —”
“No. No, thanks. On top is fine.
For the moment.”
“And the French knickers?” Alice asked.
“I bought another pair. A kind of peace offering.”
“And did they go down well?” Gabs smirked.
“Yes, they did.” Mavis saw that Gabs had made some kind of joke, but was not sure what it was.
The more she saw of Gabs, the more aware Mavis was of her own naivety, and she felt oddly ashamed. She was probably old enough to be Gabs’ mother, and yet where matters of sex were concerned, Gabs could make her feel like a mere child. Gabs discussed sex with the ease of someone who assumed a similarly relaxed attitude on the part of her listener, and Mavis simply couldn’t do it. Sex had always been private, personal, secret. Otherwise, she reasoned to herself, what was the point? For Mavis, one of the great attractions of sex had always been its rudeness. It was a childish expression, she knew, and redolent of the games of doctors and nurses that her friends had played as children (Mavis had not been invited to join in), but one that best expressed how she felt. Of course, that was only part of it; there was the closeness and the reciprocity that accompanied the sex she had with Clifford. But she still privately delighted in (and wondered at) the fact that grown people with respectable lives and jobs and positions in society could do this incredibly rude thing without it seeming remotely abnormal. It could be because sex had never been a part of her everyday life; appointments had to be made, venues found, and limits placed on the amount of time she and Clifford could allow themselves to do it in. They had only twice enjoyed the luxury of actually sleeping together — sharing a bed for a whole night, waking together, breakfasting together — things that most couples took for granted. Sex had always been, as it were, taken out of context. Couples who lived together could presumably make love whenever they felt like it. She and Clifford had to do it when they could, which wasn’t necessarily the same thing at all.
Alice appeared to understand Mavis’s unease, for she turned to Gabs.
“Come on, Gabs. Your turn now. Tell us what you’ve been up to.”
“Okay.” Gabs took a sip of her wine. “Well, I’ve had a bloody few weeks. My favourite patient died, my boss at the agency’s being an absolute cow, and I’ve fallen in love with a priest. My sister is being all disapproving and holier than thou, and the priest isn’t having any of it.”
“Oh, not a priest!” Mavis said. “That’s — that’s awful!”
“Awful for who?” Gabs demanded.
“Well, just awful, I suppose.”
“More awful than shagging someone else’s husband?”
“Well, no. Yes. I don’t know. It just seems so — so extreme.”
“Who is he, Gabs?” Alice asked quickly.
Gabs explained about Father Augustine.
“Gosh. I remember him,” Alice said. “Dark. Good-looking. He sat in a corner at Father Cuthbert’s looking embarrassed. I felt quite sorry for him.”
“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Gabs sounded proprietorial.
“There must be other gorgeous men around who are more available.”
“Oh, not you as well! I’ve had enough of all that from my sister. I thought you two at least would understand.”
“But I’ve never — I’d never dream of going after a priest,” Mavis said.
“You went after someone’s husband. Isn’t that worse? Father Augustine doesn’t belong to anyone else. And don’t say he belongs to the church because I’ve heard all that, too. He wouldn’t be hurting another human being.”
“I never went after Clifford,” Mavis said.
“Well, what, then?”
“We just — met. We weren’t looking for one another.”
“Well, I wasn’t looking for a priest.” Gabs refilled her glass. “You could say that we just met, as well.”
“It just doesn’t seem right,” Mavis said.
“Bloody hell, Mavis! None of us are doing what’s right, as you put it! That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” said Alice, “this is different because it’s happened after the Father Cuthbert meetings. Mavis and I had our — our lovers long before we all met. You’re planning a relationship and expecting us to give you our backing. Isn’t that it?”
“I suppose,” Gabs said. “But whatever you think about what I’m doing, there’s no one else I can talk to about it.”
“You say you’re in love, but do you really know him?” Alice persisted.
“I feel that I do.”
“Couldn’t you stop now, before…?”
“Before anyone gets hurt?” Gabs sighed. “Yeah, I could. We could all stop now, couldn’t we? But this feels like a chance. An opportunity. I really think I could make him happy.”
“Oh, Gabs! For heaven’s sake! How do you know he’s not happy already being — married to the church?” Alice seemed to be losing patience.
“He doesn’t look happy. He looks — lost, I suppose.”
“So you’ve no intention of giving up on this?”
“Nope. I can’t.”
“Of course you can,” said Mavis.
“No, Mavis, I can’t. You can’t give up your Clifford, and I —”
“Of course I could give Clifford up! But what we have suits both of us, and since Dorothy doesn’t know, no one gets hurt and nothing changes. If you succeed in seducing a priest, think of what he’s got to lose!”
“Ah, but think of what he’s got to gain,” said Gabs, who was feeling angry and unrepentant. She had been looking forward to being able to discuss her feelings about Father Augustine, and Mavis and Alice were turning out to be almost as prudish as Steph. “Hang on a minute —” she glanced round the room — “Mavis, where’s your mum?”
Everyone looked towards Maudie’s corner, but apart from some fragments of crisps, there was no sign of Maudie herself.
“She can’t have gone far,” Alice said as Mavis rushed into the hallway.
They searched all over the house, but there was no sign of Maudie.
“The back door’s open!” Alice called out. “She must have gone out that way.”
“Can she get into the street?” Mavis asked.
“I’m afraid she can. And it looks as though she has. The garden gate’s open, too.”
Alice called up the stairs. “Finn! Can you and Kenny come and help us? We seem to have lost Mavis’s mother.”
The two boys clattered down the stairs. They didn’t appear to be taking the exercise particularly seriously, but they could move fast, which would be a help. They dashed down the street in one direction, and Mavis and Alice went in the other. Gabs was asked to search the garden.
As she poked about among the bushes and investigated a rickety garden shed, Gabs had pangs of guilt. This emergency could well be her fault. Unbeknown to Mavis, she had topped up Maudie’s wine glass when no one else was looking, reasoning that the poor old soul didn’t have much fun in her life, and a little drop more couldn’t possibly do her any harm. Maudie had looked very settled and had even dozed off a couple of times. It had all seemed perfectly safe. How on earth had she managed to get up and leave the room without anyone noticing?
Gabs abandoned the garden, which was small and bore no traces of Maudie, and joined the others in the street.
“She can’t have just vanished,” Alice said.
“Oh yes, she can,” said Mavis grimly. “She does this sometimes. The doctor says it’s because she’s confused, but I sometimes think she does it just to keep me on my toes.”
They searched down side roads and alleyways; they went into gardens and knocked on front doors. No one had seen or heard Maudie.
“This is ridiculous,” Alice said after a fruitless twenty minutes. “She doesn’t move fast; she’s very conspicuous, especially at this time of night. Where on earth can she have got to?” She lifted the lid of a wheelie bin and peered inside. Gabs giggled. “Not funny, Gabs.”
“No. Sorry.” Gabs was cold and fed up, and her guilt was rising to a dangerous level. Should she confess a
bout the wine or keep quiet? What if something awful had happened to Maudie, and it was all her fault? Gabs liked Maudie. She reckoned there was more going on under that neat grey perm than many people imagined, and guilt notwithstanding, she would be very sorry if the old lady were to meet with some kind of accident.
Just then, a police car drove slowly up the road and drew to a halt at the kerb. A policeman got out and put on his cap.
“Good evening. We’ve found a — a lady, wandering on her own. She doesn’t seem to know where’s she’s meant to be. I wonder whether you can help?”
“That’ll be Mother,” said Mavis. “Where is she?”
“She’s in the car. She appears to have been drinking.”
“Well, she’s not driving, is she? There’s no law against drinking in the privacy of your own home,” said Gabs.
“But she wasn’t at home, was she? And there is a law against being drunk and disorderly.”
“Drunk and disorderly?” Mavis repeated. “Surely not.”
“Yes, madam. She was sitting on the pavement singing a — singing an inappropriate song. She was causing offence to members of the public.”
“How many members of the public?” Gabs demanded, aware that members of the public at large in the streets on a Friday night were far more likely to be drunk than a harmless old woman.
“I don’t think that’s any of your concern. But a gentleman complained.”
“Where’s your sense of humour?” cried Gabs. “If I can get drunk and sing inappropriate songs at her age, I shall be very pleased.”
“We are not paid to have a sense of humour. We are paid to keep the streets free from crime.” The policeman looked Gabs up and down and sniffed. “Madam.”
Women Behaving Badly_An uplifting, feel-good holiday read Page 10
