‘In future years then, maybe,’ says Robert. ‘Once your spell has started to work.’
‘It’s already started! Malc takes his driving test next week, you know. He’s been finding it tedious having to get around by bus all the time. I don’t know how he’s managed it, but he has. He says that Ramon and Murphy are very pleased with him.’
‘That’s what I’m hearing, too.’
‘Was it hard, Robert? Be honest with me now, did you have trouble getting them to agree?’
‘They were looking for an older man, someone with energy and character, and they were desperately in need of capital at the time. A great deal depended on that first meeting, I have to admit. But, as you told me he would before all this started, Malc came up trumps. He really impressed them. He’s quite a complicated person this husband of yours, isn’t he?’
These few words of praise please Ellie more than she even admits to herself because it is proving difficult, and oh, it’s not just the shopping. It is getting harder and harder, when the mornings are dark and that cold wind whips down Nelson Street, when there’s frost on the pavements, it is getting much harder to drag herself out of the cosiness of her bed, denying herself even the warmth of the two-bar electric fire, as she always has denied it, ‘for economy’s sake’, and get herself off to work. It is hard now she knows she doesn’t really have to.
She is wrapped up tightly in her decision; she is bound in it like a parcel.
And another thing… she’d been a little surprised at the strange sense of loss she felt when all that initial excitement, after the planning and the plotting, had died down. She supposes it is a bit like a starving man being led to a banquet and then choosing to go on punishing himself, choosing to leave it till later. No, that’s not a good comparison at all. It is not like that, it is much more emotionally depriving than that, because every second of every day, if you care to look, there are ways to spend money in order to buy yourself comfort or respect, even admiration. Yes, there is definitely an aspect of that involved in spending, especially spending carelessly which is what Ellie could do if she chose to. All that bowing and scraping in shops as she went in and pointed to the most expensive shoes, all that intimate woman-talk, envious looks and flattery she’d get if she went into Lendels and bought a posh dress. Receiving love. A certain kind of love, dished up under certain kinds of smiles. She knows it is false, of course she does—she’s done it herself in the gift shop to customers. But Ellie’s never had it happen to her.
And it’s still not happening.
‘It isn’t that I feel I’m lacking in anything,’ she explains. ‘Good heavens, with your help, Robert, I’m buying exactly what I want since Malc is much happier already and I couldn’t have dreamed the effects would be noticeable so quickly. But sometimes I feel insecure about the money, as if it’s not really mine yet.’ She dips her fingers into the bowl at the same time as Robert; their hands touch and they smile. The little flowers on top of the water, the colours of the ruby in her engagement ring, float along. ‘I think it’s because the money is so remote from me,’ she finishes weakly. ‘Robert,’ she confesses, ‘already I am getting afraid that I might lose it.’
She is used to his hairy suits now, she is used to accidentally feeling his cuff or arm as he stretches over to help her with her seatbelt or, like now, when she sits back and unexpectedly finds his jacket on the seat behind her.
‘There is absolutely no chance of that, Ellie,’ he reassures her with one of his special smiles. They are in the alcove in which they always sit and now she considers it theirs. He knows this, so he has started to book it beforehand specially. He has got quite a shy smile: he is a little bit like John Major but younger and his hair is dryer and blonder and there is more of it. ‘You are using just a tiny proportion of your money at the moment… twelve thousand or so a year to pay Malcolm’s salary and a one hundred thousand injection of capital with a promise of an annual ten percent return. It is not a secure investment, there are no guarantees, that’s why Ramon and Murphy had to search so hard for a backer at the outset. But I ought to tell you now, Ellie, that everything about this enterprise is looking good. Let me explain a bit more thoroughly…’
Ellie attempts to concentrate for Robert’s sake, but he has misunderstood her. Her feelings of insecurity and imminent loss cannot be smoothed away by strong balance sheets or City predictions. She has always trusted Robert’s judgement; from the beginning she has felt certain that Canonwaits would succeed… Her fear goes deeper than that but he has not understood because he’s getting excited, is in his element, and she feels a strange sense of condescension as she listens.
‘I saw at once that security was the most important aspect of Ramon and Murphy’s likely success…’
‘Of course, yes, security…’
‘Have you any idea, Ellie, of the huge leap in reported thefts and burglaries in this country over the last two years?’
‘Things are getting worse and cars are being…’
‘When Ramon and Murphy first came to me with their feasibility study, I mentioned their interlocking internal shutters to a colleague of mine who works at the Mutual Alliance Insurance Group, which is based here in Liverpool. He took it back to the board and they expressed a great deal of interest. Now they have decided to offer cheaper premiums to customers prepared to install these internal shutters to their downstairs windows.’
‘Well, that sounds very promising…’
‘And small market towns.’ Robert fiddles with his folder and brings out a newspaper cutting but Ellie does not want to read it. She is sitting back, relaxed and comfortable, enjoying the sound of his voice. ‘It is happening all over the country in small market towns. They are using those ugly metal bars to protect shop windows, ruining old high streets—and there has been quite an outcry just lately. Now, some of these Canonwaits shutters will do the trick and still manage to stay sensitive to the environment. I’ve got a letter here somewhere from the Association of County Councils… am I boring you, Ellie?’
Ellie jumps, scalded. ‘Oh no, quite the opposite!’
‘And that’s not to mention fuel conservation. For security and fuel economy, Canonwaits interior shutters come out better than double glazing in tests that have been done. They cut down noise as well, you see, as unlike double glazing they absorb vibration. They have been cleverly designed to be cheap and easy to install, folding back either on hinges attached to the window-frame or on metal rods. Oh yes, I saw the potential immediately and now the interest being shown in the Canonwaits product is growing considerably. The garden furniture will eventually become nothing but a sideline.’
Ellie sips her drink. She watches him. He is so full of enthusiasm.
Robert goes on, ‘Remember that the rest of the money you’ve got safely invested will pay back that hundred thousand in one year alone. You must never fear you are going to lose your money, Ellie. It’s being very well looked after.’
Is this strange hole that has formed inside her anything to do with losing her money? Ellie hates the new thought she has, tries to push it away but it will not go. Is there just a tiny bit of her that resents losing Malc as he was? After all her moanings to Robert, all her blusterings, and her certainty that the change was what she wanted? She is suffering from some kind of insecurity, certainly, but there could be a dozen different reasons for it and she’s never been one for self-examination. Apart from being boring she considers it a complete waste of time.
Will she be able to keep up with Malc? Might she fall behind and lose him? The more successful Malc becomes, the more he will want her to stay at home. Time and time again he has cursed the necessity for her to go out to work, he’s very old fashioned like that… but what would she do at home all day? She would much rather be involved, she would much rather help him. But how can she? Between them, now, will always be her deception.
The joy of being able to give—is that what she’s missing? And is it being made worse because it is near
ly Christmas time?
‘I’d like to give you something, you know,’ she tells Robert now. ‘I’d like to buy you something really nice and expensive for Christmas, and something special for Victoria and James.’
‘Whatever for?’
She pleads in her head—oh please let me give, you are the only one who knows and therefore the only one I could give to. She says, ‘Just to say thank you.’
‘I am only doing my job.’
‘You never had any need to do it so nicely.’
‘You know that I am enjoying this. Sometimes I think I’m enjoying it all nearly as much as you are.’
Ellie squeezes her hands together under the table. ‘It’s going to work, isn’t it? Malc is going to do well and he’s going to change. Already he’s different. I notice little things. For instance, this morning he poured the tea and he passed over the paper so that I could read it first. He was busy working out yesterday’s figures for Murphy, so he couldn’t read it himself, but still, he didn’t just shove it aside, he passed it over.’
Robert is sincere when he says, ‘I’m glad for you Ellie, but I think you deserve a great deal more than being given the newspaper first and having your tea poured for you.’
‘It’s nothing to do with the newspaper. Don’t you understand—I am there again, in the kitchen, in the morning! I am there and Malc knows I’m there. I have come alive—we are coming alive together!’
‘Now you sound silly.’
‘I know,’ she grins. ‘It’s the carols in the background. Carols always make me feel sentimental.’
There are more forms to fill in and decisions to be made. When Ellie is here with Robert the money becomes real and she feels safer. She reads about it, she moves it from account to account, and it’s only when he drops her back in the carpark and drives off that she gets the pang. It’s when she goes home to the empty house and the morning’s dishes, when she trails upstairs to make the bed and to think about Malcolm’s tea.
But it doesn’t last long—she doesn’t let it. And she’s started looking forward to Malc getting home. Last week he did something he’s never done in his life before, he brought home a bottle of wine. She stood back with her hands clasped and exclaimed, ‘Oh, Malc!’ knowing how disdainful he was about wine.
‘Don’t get excited. It was given to me today, along with a calendar.’
But he couldn’t spoil it for her like that, nothing could spoil it, so she’d got out the two special glasses that Di had given them on their tenth anniversary—she kept them in the scooped out satin shapes in the box—and put them on the table. They were having shepherd’s pie, beetroot in white sauce, and Pouilly-Fuissé. She watched while he opened it, but he didn’t remove the cork or pour it with the same flair or skill employed by the waiters at the Red Fox. Nor did he taste it first like Robert did. Well, it was hardly worth it with them sitting down in the kitchen like that. It’d come, though. Given time, it’d come.
Ellie asks Robert, ‘What are you getting Bella for Christmas?’
‘A suede coat, but I’m not choosing it, she’s chosen it herself.’
‘And what is she getting you?’
‘That’s a surprise. I won’t know that until Christmas morning.’
‘And what will you do?’
‘On Christmas Day?’
‘Yes.’ She wants to know all about him. Robert Beasely is like a night-class, her new interest, her new hobby, and from him she is learning. She is never ashamed of asking and he never objects to telling.
‘Nothing very exciting. James and Victoria will open their presents and then there’ll be a trail of friends in for drinks before lunch. Bella’s family are coming this year…’ Ellie knows all about Robert’s wife’s family. She’s asked. Her brother is something to do with TV… something in the background she’s never heard of, and her sister is an artist. She wonders if she and Malc will ever get to be one of those friends who call round in the morning, or whether they’ll always be too boring, although being a bank manager isn’t the most thrilling career she can think of. She wonders if Bella’s disappointed in him and if she has ambitions for Robert like Ellie has for Malc. She thinks all this but obviously she doesn’t say it.
She doesn’t tell Robert about her Christmas Day. Malc’ll be in the pub all morning and they’ll go to the club in the evening. There’s always a special do on, on Christmas night. They’ve never missed it, not once during their whole marriage. When the kids were small they took them along, and Ellie left early in order to put them to bed.
But then up until three years ago Malc’s dad had been alive and they’d always had to do what he wanted.
‘Yes,’ she replies to his question. ‘Christmas Day’s a Monday so I’ll have the weekend and two days off. The sales start straight after. They decorated the Arcade a month ago. They’ve done it Dickensian this year, they’re selling hot chestnuts outside the gift shop and they’ve got an old horse-drawn carriage all decked out. It looks really lovely.’
‘How long have you worked at the gift shop, Ellie?’
‘Since the Arcade was built in 1984. Quite a time. Before that I worked in Valerie’s Boutique, and before that I was in the Liberty’s shop, selling material, you know.’
‘Have you ever done any other kind of work?’
‘I left school at sixteen and went straight into a shop. There was nothing else around here then really, unless you were bright, and then you went to the business college.’
‘But when the children were small?’
‘Oh, when Mandy and Kev were small I stayed home and we had to manage on Malc’s pay. I think that’s really when the rot set in. We were so stretched in those days, I look back now and wonder how we coped. And it was hard, with Malc’s mum in the state she was and his dad at home all day, and if he wasn’t home he was in the nick.’
‘Quite a character, eh?’
‘No. No, it wasn’t like that.’ She gets a quick glimpse of Arthur Freeman’s face as it pushes itself into her memory, and she winces. Nobody cried when he died, not even Malc. No one stood out in the street or closed their curtains like they still did sometimes out of respect when one of the oldest residents passed away. And yet Ellie admired him in a way. There was something admirable about someone who could be so irredeemably unpleasant throughout their entire life. She’s always known why she never found the old TV comedy series Steptoe and Son very funny—she’d always felt embarrassed when they all sat down round the telly together to watch it, because it was so obvious it was painful… Arthur Freeman was old man Steptoe, but without any of his scallywag charm or devilish humour. And years ago everyone in Nelson Street had been nervous of him; he’d been bigger in those days, and a bully. And Ellie has never forgotten the way she went in after Lily died and found Arthur bent over the bed prising the engagement ring off his wife’s finger.
She shudders.
Oh, she had not wanted to begin her married life there. Nor had Malc. And they wouldn’t have, but for Mandy coming along so suddenly like that. There hadn’t been much choice and she’d only been seventeen—she hadn’t known anything about abortion, where to go or what to do. And if she had done, well, they’d never have had Mandy. They had not put themselves down on the housing list because it was so long Malc lost his temper and shouted at the woman, pushing Ellie out of the door before him—she can see that door now, yellow glass and wired with studs in—‘Sodding waste of time, you’d be in your wheelchair before they got round to you and needing a ground-floor flat.’
She’d been glad to get him out of the housing office before he made a real scene. As it was he turned over a chair on his way out and left a boot mark on the canvas.
And there’d been the spare bedroom available at number nine while Ellie’s house was still full.
Robert Beasely is repeating himself. ‘I said, what are you going to give Malcolm for Christmas? You’ve been miles away. Look, your steak and kidney pie’s getting cold.’
Ellie feels as
if she’s been sound asleep. She even has to rub her eyes since the steam from the pie has fugged them all up and they’re gazing into the gravy, unseeing. Robert’s got some fishy dish with sauce on. ‘New shirts, I can get them cheap off Margot. I normally get him a couple of shirts but this year I’ve got him a key-ring as well… for when he gets the company car.’
‘I hope he passes his test after all this,’ Robert comments.
They have coffee, and as it’s nearly Christmas he suggests a liqueur. She doesn’t know what to ask for so she refuses. ‘I’ve had quite enough to drink already. I always feel like going to sleep on a Wednesday afternoon.’ As they’re leaving Ellie checks and checks again. She feels as if she’s left her handbag behind or something else important, but she can’t see anything despite her careful peering, nothing tangible or visible remains of their visit.
10
MALC PASSES HIS DRIVING test first time.
Swing hammocks like those you see on porches in the American west, twirling gazebos, arbours, kissing benches, Henry Moore donkeys made out of wood, tiny log cabins for children with even tinier wicket fences, and shutters… ready-made shutters for houses, easy to fix and available on easy terms. Even Ellie, who’s normally bored to tears by garden accessories, pores over the brochure with relish and envy. How she’d love a garden like that…
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