Bedtime Reads

by Janet Pywell

  They can both cook!

  Hattie laughed. She checked the length of an average stay on the CouchSurf site barely able to type with excitement. Her fingers tapped the wrong keys and the message took longer to write:

  Perhaps a few days if that’s alright? What Spanish food do you cook?

  Enrique doesn’t respond.

  I bet he’s making toast and marmite so Hattie wandered to the kitchen. It was past two o’clock and she yawned. Time goes so quickly chatting online. She browsed through the cupboards and eventually settled on Weetabix. She added milk and four heaped spoons of sugar and settled down in front of the screen again. She imagined a flat in Barcelona, bright, big and airy. It might even overlook the sea. I will lie on their white couch eating cheese on toast or making baked beans with Enrique.

  Hattie and Enrique, she says aloud.

  Enrique and Hattie.

  She closed her eyes and saw a white wedding dress and a small chapel like the one in Mamma Mia. Her computer binged and Enrique’s message is flagged:

  That’s fine. Let us know your dates and flight details. We can welcome you with a traditional paella when you arrive.

  Paella?

  What’s that?

  Hattie Googled paella and read: Eels, squid, crayfish, whelks and mussels.

  Oh God!

  A new message binged from Enrique:

  We are very excited. Do you want to Skype?

  Hattie closed the computer. She felt sick.

  I need to give this CouchSurfing some more thought. Perhaps I should start by thinking about the food and take it from there.

  Maybe: Indian? Chinese? Probably American?

  Jacob's Birthday

  Millie fluffed up the pillows, straightened the duvet and looked around the bedroom. Emma will be comfortable in here. She pottered into the bathroom and ran the cloth around the sink for the fifth time and rubbed at an invisible smear on the mirror. That will do or I’ll rub it away. On the landing she paused at the top of the stairs to listen. Jacob would be in the sunroom sitting in his favourite chair studying the daily cryptic crossword but she called out anyway: ‘I’ll be down in a minute. I’ll just check Felicity’s room.’

  He didn’t answer but then she didn’t expect him to.

  Although the girls were both mid-fifties with grown up families of their own, they were still her ‘girls’ – it didn’t matter how old they were. She remembered them growing up in the house, running up and down the stairs and tears and tantrums if they hadn’t been allowed to do something for one reason or another. It had all seemed hugely important at the time but now, like the faded vintage pattern on the wallpaper, it was almost forgotten. There had been colds and flu, a broken arm and a gash on Emma’s leg that had needed stitches and all through this when Millie had fussed around frantic and worried, Jacob had calmly taken over. He had bundled the girls into the car and taken them to the clinic or to a party or to a friend’s house. He had always been their Knight and the girls adored him.

  Millie sat on the bed and looked out of the window at the row of houses in the tree-lined street. The same view for over forty years. After Jacob got his first promotion at the law firm they celebrated with dinner at The Ivy and paid a substantial deposit on a four-bedroom house. It had been a home filled with laughter and tears, winter dinner parties around the long dining table, Easter egg hunts and summer barbecues on the pretty manicured lawn.

  What was that? Did Jacob call?

  Millie stood up and walked to the door. ‘I’ll only be a minute,’ she called. ‘Pop the kettle on – I’ll be down in a moment.’

  She returned to the bedroom and straightened the soft toys on the shelf. Would Felicity remember Badger – her favourite panda bear? She’d taken him when she went to University but when she moved to north Wales he had somehow mysteriously reappeared here, in her room. Badger’s reappearance at home had coincided with the arrival of David who had gone with her to Wales. They now had two children and when they visited, they played with the trusted bear.

  Although Millie loved her grandchildren they were not the same as her two girls – they were hers. They were a part of her. She remembered her pregnancy like it was yesterday and how in love she’d been.

  Jacob called up the stairs again. He was impatient this morning but she knew he was just as excited as she was. The girls would be here soon to celebrate his birthday - just the two of them. Felicity was driving from Llandudno and collecting Emma who lived just outside Oxford and they were staying for three nights.

  Millie checked her appearance. Hollow eyes stared back at her so she smiled and the blue irises perked up revealing the beauty she’d once had as a young woman.

  That’s better!

  She applied moisturiser, rubbing gently at her cheeks and neck enjoying the cool freshness against her skin, added mascara and pink blush, the same lipstick she had worn all her life.

  ‘Pink lips,’ Jacob had called her when they met the first time.

  She had been twenty-one and they had sat together at a law school dinner. She had held her ground talking about equal rights, the starving in Africa and the closing of the mines in the north of England. He was charming, kind and attentive and Millie knew by the time the bread and butter pudding was served that this would be the man she would marry.

  Jacob laughed when she had the courage to tell him after their wedding and he’d replied, ‘Why did it take you so long to make up your mind? I knew the moment you sat down beside me.’

  Millie smiled at the memory and checked her watch. The girls would be here soon, mid-day they said. She held the handrail as she negotiated the stairs. More recently they seemed steeper. Jacob always chided her on carrying things up the stairs and not holding on. She had slipped a few months ago and had broken a few ribs. She’d been lucky but it had been enough for Jacob to be concerned and for him to constantly remind her.

  ‘I’m holding on to the banister, darling,’ she called. ‘Just as you always tell me.’

  She peered in to the lounge. It was perfectly neat and tidy. Jacob was in his chair, head back, snoring softly with the crossword across his knees and the pen falling from his hand. He still had a good thick head of grey hair and he was wearing his favourite brown waistcoat with the mustard coloured shirt she’d bought for his birthday last year.

  ‘I’ll pop the kettle on then,’ she said and turned toward the kitchen.

  At almost eighty-three Millie didn’t move as fast as she used to but she had plenty of time, almost an hour before her girls arrived.

  She checked the fridge: smoked salmon, prawns, salad and avocado – Jacob’s favourite. He had recently been diagnosed with diabetes and was watching his diet. She hadn’t bought a cake this year. It wasn’t life threatening but the doctor had prescribed daily medication. All in all, they had both been very lucky with their health. Hardly a day of illness between them, ‘as tough as old boots’ he’d said on more than one occasion.

  The kettle hissed and Millie lifted it from the gas. She poured boiling water over a tea bag and added a little milk then she sat at the kitchen table and contemplated the clock. The girls were on their journey, probably on the M40 near High Wycombe.

  She reached for a pen and yesterday’s newspaper. There were still three clues that she hadn’t finished and they were annoying her. She tapped the paper with the pen and wondered if Jacob would know the answers. She’d ask him later. There was no point in disturbing him now. He’d been excited all week. The thought of the girls coming home had lifted his spirits.

  ‘What are you buying all that shopping for?’ he’d jested. ‘Killing the fatted calf?’

  ‘You’re making apple tart - when you know I prefer sherry trifle?’

  ‘They’ll have to stay for a month to eat this lot.’

  But Millie had ignored him.

  She knew what was best for her girls. It was a shame they lived so far away. She’d often dreamed as they were growing up that they’d buy a house in the same st
reet and would pop in for coffee. That they’d live close enough to meet on a Saturday or to go shopping when Jacob played golf.

  But Felicity loved Wales and it was where she had her Vets Practice and Emma adored being near Oxford. John was a lawyer and in the early years after they married she’d hoped that Jacob would entice him toward London to be nearer to them but he didn’t. Jacob was of the firm belief that everyone had to live their own lives and must walk their own path. He’d said that on many occasions.

  ‘If he wants to come into my law firm, he’s more than welcome but he’s an ambitious man and his roots are elsewhere.’

  But Millie never stopped hoping. She often wished they would move a little closer to her so that she would share their lives a little more.

  Millie looked out of the window just as the Range Rover pulled up onto the gravel.

  ‘They’re here,’ she shouted jumping up. ‘They’re here, Jacob.’

  ‘Alright, don’t get so excited, pink lips. Look at you, jumping around like a giddy schoolgirl,’ he replied.

  ‘Have you done your hair?’ She pulled him to her and ran her fingers across his fringe. ‘Look at you, you need a haircut.’

  Then she leaned against his shoulder, reassured by his strength, breathing in his familiar aftershave. It wasn’t as strong as it usually was but then she felt his breath on her cheek and his soft lips as they met in a brief kiss.

  ‘You’re as excited as me,’ she laughed.

  He smoothed her hair from her forehead and placed a warm kiss on her cheek. ‘Of course I am. They’re our girls,’ he whispered. ‘Born out of my love for you.’

  ‘Stop it, you big softie,’ she chided. ‘You’ll have me crying in a moment.’ She pulled away and tugged at her skirt smoothing it over her hips.

  ‘You’ve lost far too much weight,’ he said.

  ‘I’ll put it back on with the girls here.’

  ‘You’ve enough food to feed a nation.’

  ‘Come on, worry-chops!’ Millie dropped his hand and opened the front door. ‘Hello,’ she called out and raised her hand to wave.

  ‘Hi, Mum,’ called Emma. She was the eldest by two years and she was the first to wrap her arms around her. ‘Look at you! That’s a pretty skirt - lilac was always your favourite colour.’

  ‘Your Dad loves lilac,’ she replied.

  Emma had Jacob’s green grey eyes and penetrating stare and like him, she felt Emma could see though her skin to her very soul. Emma frowned but it turned quickly into a warm smile and she stood aside.

  Felicity was smaller and darker. She had a stocky-build more like Millie. As she embraced her tightly Millie was aware of her strong arms gripping her in a tight embrace.

  ‘That’s a bear hug,’ she laughed.

  Then she pulled both girls into her arms and the three of them hugged in the driveway. Millie was the first to pull away. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and turned to the house.

  ‘Come inside,’ she said leaving them with Jacob. She couldn’t hog all the attention. She hurried into the kitchen and busied herself pulling out cups and saucers. Her movements were shaky and she put that down to emotion. I mustn’t ruin the moment. She turned at the sound of footsteps following her and the girls dumping their holdalls on the hallway floor.

  ‘You must be gasping after that journey. Coffee? Tea? Was it busy? Were the roads okay?’

  ‘No problem.’ Emma stalked around the kitchen taking everything in, as if seeing changes although nothing had altered, perhaps she had her own memories. She leaned against the sink and then gazed out at the garden. ‘Goodness, Mum, what a windfall, those apples need collecting.’

  ‘I was hoping you’d take some back – there’re far too many for us…’

  ‘I’ll collect them after lunch.’ Felicity stood beside them. ‘Do you remember how we used to make chutney together? Dad’s recipe was the best…’

  ‘The leaves are turning – we’ll be changing the clocks soon.’ Mille sighed. She hated the winter; dark nights, cold and damp days.

  This won’t do!

  She fussed around the girls, settling them in to the family home, chatting and laughing. They picked up framed photographs on top of the mantelpiece and exclaimed about the years that passed so quickly and how the children have grown. Millie had always been careful to have the same amount of photographs of them and their children. The girls had always been treated the same: equally and fairly. It was something that she and Jacob had prided themselves on.

  Now, after the initial euphoria of their arrival, Jacob retired to finish the crossword in the sunroom leaving his three girls to chat at the table and to drink coffee.

  ‘So what will we do for Dad’s birthday tomorrow?’ Emma’s eyes glistening in excitement.

  ‘Lunch in Dean’s?’ suggested Felicity. ‘I could book a table?’

  ‘Dean’s isn’t as good as it used to be so I bought some prawns and salmon to have at home.’ Millie topped up their coffee cups.

  ‘Really?’ Felicity looked disappointed.

  ‘But it would make a change to go out, Mum?’ She felt that Emma looked right through her. ‘It would save all this hassle at home.’

  ‘It’s no trouble. It’s whatever you girls would like to do. I just thought it would be nice to eat at home.’

  ‘Where did you get the fish from?’ Felicity asked.

  ‘Waitrose.’ Millie turned away. She hated it when the girls started asking too many questions. She just wanted them to relax and have fun and now they were questioning her.

  ‘But we wanted to take you out.’ Felicity shared a look with Emma.

  Millie shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She was determined not to be flustered so she sipped her coffee slowly and said:

  ‘I’ve made an apple tart.’ She wanted them to know that she had gone to a lot of effort for them. She had been baking all week. It had kept her busy and Jacob loved her home cooking. ‘It’ll be far tastier than anything you get out in a restaurant.’

  ‘But it’s Dad’s birthday and we want to celebrate…’ Felicity couldn’t hide the frustration in her voice.

  ‘He loves apple tart,’ Millie replied.

  Emma reached across the table and placed her hand on top of her mother’s. ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘I’m fine. Just happy to see you both.’ She spoke slowly to keep her voice under control, willing her eyes not to fill with tears.

  ‘Are you very lonely?’ Felicity whispered taking her mother’s other hand.

  It took Millie a while to hold back her tears and to control her voice. ‘There’s not a day I don’t think of him.’

  ‘We’re here now,’ Emma said.

  ‘We love you,’ added Felicity.

  Millie stared back at her two daughters and was reminded of Jacob. She was filled with a love so sharp that it sliced through her heart, splitting her soul. She could barely speak. She swallowed the swell of sadness that rose in her gut like a giant wave, then swallowed again and again until the tsunami subsided and she was able to speak again.

  ‘You’re both here and that’s all that matters,’ she said.

  Just A Drag

  The first drag makes my head spin. It was always the worst. It’s the one I pretend never affects me. After that my body kicks in and accepts the crazy nicotine that calms me yet sets my adrenalin galloping faster than Usain Bolt on speed. I spit out a bit of tobacco leaf. That’s the problem with roll-ups. Unless I twist the end really tight, I end up chewing the stuff like I’m a cowboy: Clint Eastwood or John Wayne.

  But I’m not that type of bloke. I’m an ordinary guy, medium build, medium everything. I hunch my shoulders and dig my chin into the collar of my leather jacket and edge further behind the wall, out of the wind and out of sight. I still had seven minutes to go until I had to be at my desk and like Shylock, they weren’t getting another pound of flesh from me. I worked hard enough.

  On my second drag I blow a smoke ring and it clusters in fluffy, grey angelic h
alos so I blow another because there’s nothing else to do. Then Angie’s voice floats from the open window beside where I’m standing.

  ‘I’m telling you Miles, don’t do anything, or say anything. Don’t panic. I’ll get rid of them.’ Her tone is soothing and I smile. I like Angie. She has the same calming tune to her voice that she used to the new trainee last week.

  Was it Simon? Steve? I can’t remember his name. They come and go. He’d only lasted a day. That’s the nature of a call centre, she once told me in her purring voice. But he’d said he couldn’t stand cold calling. He said it wasn’t right.

  It sounds like Angie is on the phone and I feel uncomfortable listening but I’ve still got another few minutes. I wasn’t going to waste my roll-up.

  ‘I’ll get another name for you today. Just be more careful and don’t make any mistakes this time. Did you clear up after yourself?’ she asks.

  When I first started working here I couldn’t take my eyes off Angie. She’s the supervisor - the boss - I was drawn to her pale skin and the large freckle at the top of her left breast. My eyes were like magnets to that mole. At first I thought it was a brown smear or smudge of makeup. Then I thought it was a small tattoo of one of those long Greek islands, then some days I can’t make up my mind. But I know really that it’s just a freckle.

  I take another gulp of nicotine and stamp my feet to keep the chill from my toes in my worn trainers. You’d have thought a guy my age would wear sensible shoes and I would, if I could afford them.

  Angie’s voice has an edge to it – one that I’ve never heard before but she’s moved away from the window and is walking around her office so I can’t hear what she’s saying.

  Normally when she trains us, she’s funny, friendly and polite.

  ‘Smile when you’re speaking on the phone,’ she reminds us each day. ‘Even though people can’t see you, they can still hear you and they will hear the smile and laughter in your voice. It will give them confidence. They will believe in you. They will like you and they will trust you.’