The Limits of Enchantment

by Graham Joyce

  I wondered if she’d guessed what I was about to do. I never underestimated Mammy’s intuition in anything. ‘I always do, Mammy.’

  ‘Stop tormenting me, Jane Louth,’ she retorted. ‘How far gone are you?’

  ‘I’m not gone at all, Mammy.’

  ‘I know what you want, Jane. You girls come to me for help and you don’t want to be straight with me. And you’re all blabbermouths. I ask you to keep quiet but you go shooting off your mouths and I’m the one who has to suffer.’ She seemed unusually angry.

  ‘Yes, Mammy.’

  ‘They’re out to get me, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, Mammy.’

  ‘If you go blabbermouthing everywhere, I shall be the one to pay. I don’t see why I should help any of you. Who’s the father?’

  ‘I can’t say, Mammy.’

  ‘Well if you can’t say, I can’t help you. There, that’s got you, hasn’t it? It’s part of what you pay me. Knowledge. It’s my protection, that knowledge, that’s why I have to have it. Was it him up at the big house?’

  ‘No, Mammy.’

  Mammy let me give her a bed-wash all over, but then she seemed to think I was one of the nurses, and she cried and said her feet were cold.

  I left the hospital feeling lower than I ever had after a visit. Mammy hadn’t identified me for a single second. Judith saw my distress and looked after me. She got me home and she was determined that I needed cheering up, so I let her have her way about the party that evening.

  Though I’d already had enough of Judith flapping round the place when it came time to get ready to walk to Croker’s. She irritated me by asking questions like who would be there, and what was so-and-so like. Then she challenged me about my hair all over again, and asked me was I going to get dressed up. I said I was going just as I was, and that seemed to infuriate her.

  ‘I’ll look dull just by association,’ she said.

  ‘And I’ll look a tart by being with you.’

  And we didn’t speak a word to each other for the next hour, which suited me down to the ground. Judith had a fashionable maxiskirt with buttons shaped like blackberries all the way down the front that invited everyone to pick them off like fruit from the hedgerow. And under that skirt she wore white patent-leather boots up to her knees. She went upstairs and was quiet for a long time. When I went up I found her poised in front of Mammy’s old dressing-table mirror. ‘What on earth are you doing with those?’ I said.

  ‘Don’t distract me. One slip and you have to start all over again. It’s a lot of trouble, but it’s worth it.’

  She was gluing huge false eyelashes into place. I watched as she ran a line of gum across her eyelids and carefully applied the things to her eyes. ‘There. Are they on straight?’

  ‘You can’t go out looking like that! They’ll just laugh at us!’

  ‘I swear I will clout you, Fern, before this evening is out.’

  We were about to start another shouting match when I heard a male voice calling from outside. I looked down from the window and saw a ginger-nut stooped at the door. ‘Oh God it’s Arthur,’ I said.

  ‘Go and talk to him,’ Judith urged. ‘Make out it was all his doing.’

  I let Arthur in. He’d sloughed off his suit and was back in his biker’s gear, which I liked better. He blinked at me, maybe at my clothes. Then he shook his head slightly, as if beating off some outrageous notion passing across his mind, or as if a fairy had reversed some spell. He was agitated enough, and said he’d come to see if I was all right. I told him that I was all right but that I’d wondered if he was all right. I made out that I was dismayed when he’d upped and left me after dinner to go to the outhouse, after which I’d seen no more of him.

  ‘Woke up this morning with the worst headache of my life, I did Fern. Hit with an anvil. Felt a bit silly really. Cut my ear I did, too. Don’t know how I did that.’

  I remembered his head thumping on our granite doorstep, but I said nothing. Then Judith came down. She stood at the foot of the stairs with her knee swinging inside her maxiskirt and her white boots, leaning against the wall, one hand on her hip. She had her tongue poked in her cheek and was smirking at him. ‘Hello, Arthur,’ she said.

  ‘Oh,’ Arthur said, never having met Judith before.

  I introduced them. ‘Pleased to meet you, Arthur,’ she said, and she deliberately let her gaze settle on his crotch before twinkling at him again from beneath those ridiculous eyelashes.

  ‘Oh,’ he said again. ‘Anyway I came to apologise. I drank too much afore I got here. Remember you picking the bacon out of my pie and next thing I know I was in your shit-house with a thumping headache. So I thought I’d better go home.’

  ‘Yes,’ Judith said, ‘Fern mentioned that you came over a bit forceful.’

  ‘It’s all right, Arthur,’ I said quickly.

  ‘Bit of a wild thing you are, Arthur!’ She flared her eyes at him.

  ‘I hope I didn’t—’

  I cut him off. ‘It’s all right, really. Ignore her.’

  Arthur dug his hand under the back of his collar, as if chasing a small insect. Then he looked at me from head to toe again. Something was clearly bothering him but he was unsure what it was. ‘Right, I’ll be off then. Long as you’re all right.’

  ‘Bye, Arthur!’ Judith said, still smirking and swinging her knee.

  Arthur retreated down the garden path, fingering the small cut on his ear.

  Perhaps I’m out of touch, but when people say ‘a party’ I assume they mean they might go to some trouble, maybe spruce up the place a bit, buy a few balloons or somehow indicate that the day is not the same as every other day. Even the dullest churchgoer pulls on a clean set of clothes. But there was nothing at Croker’s Farm to indicate that any attempt had been made to mark the occasion out as in any way special. It looked exactly the same as it did on the day I’d made my first visit.

  I mean exactly. There was no more evidence of work around the farm, and though something savoury and garlicky bubbled away in a huge pan on the stove the kitchen was empty. Music drifted through from another part of the house – not that bloomin’ Hindu music but some scruffy wild vamp thing that fashioned a strange mood.

  ‘Are you sure this is all right?’ Judith said, her confidence faltering for a moment.

  The kitchen door had stood open so we’d ventured inside. ‘Well, we are invited. Come on.’ It was true, I was invited. Though after my behaviour I doubted they would be expecting me.

  I led her through to the room I’d been in before, where I was confronted by a scene identical to the one I’d seen earlier. Folk slouched around on mattresses in a fog of cigarette smoke and flickering candlelight. Half asleep in the gloom. Kiddies lying in their laps. A strong smell of incense. Maybe no one had moved in all that time. Either the party wasn’t happening, after all, or this was the party and I’d stumbled on a similar celebration on my first visit. Chas hauled himself to his feet out of the tangle of bodies.

  ‘Hey, look who’s here! This is amazing. Incredible. Did you know it’s my birthday?’

  I was confused. ‘Yes. That’s why we came.’

  Chas looked at me as though I were a Greek oracle. ‘That is so far out! Look, everybody! They knew it was my birthday!’

  Judith and I exchanged glances. There were a lot of smiles. Luke, interrupted in the task of rolling a cigarette, jiggled his eyebrows at us. Some people waved lazily. Greta stood up and embraced me, and when I introduced them Judith got a hug too. ‘Welcome to the party. Have a seat.’

  There weren’t any seats. It was like the opposite of Alice in Wonderland where there are lots of seats and the Mad Hatter says there’s no room. There wasn’t even much space on the bare-wood floor, but Judith and I managed to kneel down and we sat back on our ankles. A cute little boy with hair as long as a girl was sent into the kitchen to fetch us each a glass of warm beer. Chas was still exercising his imagination as to how we knew it was his birthday. I heard him say
to someone, ‘Either it’s the most amazing coincidence or …’

  I noticed a few guitars and hand-drums and a fiddle leaning against the wall in the corner. Greta followed my eyes. ‘We’re having food and music later on.’ This, at least, was as I’d been promised.

  ‘Don’t you usually have food, then?’ Judith said. Greta laughed out loud and clapped her thighs, as if this was outrageously funny. But Judith just blinked at her with those long stick-on eyelashes.

  Chas joined us again, forcing himself a space between Judith and myself by stepping between us and wedging his bottom against ours. Greta sank back into the room somewhere. Chas put an arm around each of us. Judith looked at me again, and I decided I was going to avoid eye contact with her for the rest of the evening. ‘I’m so happy you both came here on this day,’ Chas said.

  I actually thought he was going to cry with happiness, the way he went on about it.

  ‘What’s this music?’ I said. I couldn’t decide whether I loved it or hated it. Yes, it was what I call vamp, but it got inside you, deep down. It tickled. I wasn’t sure I wanted to let it.

  ‘‘‘Green Onions’’.’

  ‘‘‘Green Onions’’? That’s a funny name for a record.’

  ‘Yeh, funny. So good though, ahey?’ He said this to me but he looked at Judith, bobbing his head in time to the music. ‘ ‘‘Green Onions’’.’

  ‘I hate it,’ I said.

  ‘No, you don’t,’ he said.

  I listened to it some more. He was right. I did like it. I just had to let myself. ‘Yes,’ I said at last. ‘I do like it. I like it a lot.’

  ‘She likes ‘‘Green Onions’’ a lot,’ Chas told Judith. Then he shouted to the whole room, ‘Fern likes ‘‘Green Onions’’ a lot!’ Everyone blinked and smiled at me, as if to say well, that proves you’re a good person after all.

  ‘Actually, I love it,’ I said, but I don’t think he heard me. His attention was elsewhere.

  ‘We had three other parties to go to,’ Judith said, ‘but we plumped for this one.’

  Chas looked at her soulfully. ‘Plumped,’ he said.

  Judith gazed right back at him. ‘Yes, plumped.’

  Just when I thought this soulful staring was going to go on for ever Chas leaned over and kissed Judith full on the lips. I thought she’d leap back, but instead she kissed him. The kiss went on. And on.

  If I’d had a watch I would have timed the kiss. I looked around the room to see if anyone else was witnessing this, but no one seemed to take much notice. Greta looked over at me and grinned, a little unhappily I thought. I looked back at the kissing pair and I thought they must be going for a world record. Chas still had his arm lightly trailed around my shoulder as he stretched towards Judith. I felt like folding my arms.

  Slut.

  After a lifetime, just as the music stopped, the kiss stopped and I thought I heard dogs barking in the yard. Chas leaned back, but their eyes remained locked. Judith was actually licking her lips as she gazed steadily back at him. Chas reached for a home-rolled cigarette from behind his ear, and lit it. He inhaled almost theatrically before passing it to Judith, who also inhaled deeply, theatrically. Then she held out the cigarette for me to take.

  ‘I don’t want that,’ I said. ‘It’s pot.’

  Even more distasteful than what was in the cigarette was the residual kiss bubbling on the end of it.

  ‘I know it’s pot,’ Judith said. She waved the thing at me again.

  ‘Get it out from under my nose. It stinks.’

  Judith shrugged and took another draw. Chas looked from one to the other of us, and smirked.

  I was provoked by this smirk, but I didn’t show it. I got up and moved away from them. Greta saw me and also stood up. ‘Fern, I hope you don’t mind, but I told them you could sing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Oh go on! It would be a great birthday present for Chas. It would blow him away.’

  I looked at Chas. He was blowing smoke rings for Judith, and she was puncturing them with her finger. I didn’t know how to answer, because even though I knew I had a good voice – better than good – I rarely performed. I didn’t want the attention. I said something about wanting a glass of water and went out to the kitchen.

  Greta followed me out, but as I stepped into the kitchen three men and a very tall woman passed us on their way into the room. ‘Hi,’ said one of the men genially, but something didn’t feel right. ‘Who are they?’ I asked Greta.

  ‘No idea,’ she said. ‘Go on Fern, I’m going to sing and I would love it if you would too.’

  ‘Do you let complete strangers come in and out of your house then?’ My intuition was firing. There was definitely something amiss with those men.

  ‘People are always in and out here.’ Then Greta glanced out of the window. ‘Oh dear,’ she said, and she rushed back into the other room.

  I looked out into the yard. There were two police cars. Leaning against one of them was Bill Myers. He must have graduated from police bicycle to police car because he’d traded in his helmet for a soft, flat policeman’s peaked cap. He was talking to three other uniformed officers, one of whom was fussing the dogs to quiet them.

  I went back into the other room. The music had stopped and everyone was on their feet. One of the men who had passed me in the kitchen had a plastic bag in his hand. The others were plucking cigarette stubs from ashtrays and collecting them in another bag. The tall woman apologised to me and said she’d have to search me, but all she did was pat my pockets before moving on to another girl. I guess they’d got much of what they needed already.

  ‘What’s going on?’ I said to Chas.

  He smiled, but his brow was wrinkled at the same time. ‘We’re busted,’ he said.

  Then Luke picked up his guitar and started improvising a song called ‘The Birthday Bust’, and I marvelled at how calm everyone was, though one of the small children was crying. But Luke was singing about pigs and I realised he meant the police.

  Oh it’s so mean, oh it’s unjust

  When the little piggies do the Birthday Bust

  ‘You can shut your mouth right now,’ bawled one of the policemen aggressively, but Luke didn’t stop.

  Greta tried to leave the room, but she was hauled back by the woman who said everyone had to stay where they were. The policeman told Luke if he didn’t stop he would bloody well make him stop, but Luke carried on singing about pigs. The policeman with the plastic bags left the room, and with everyone’s attention focused on Luke, I followed. He went out to the police cars and handed the plastic bags to Bill Myers. Bill put the two bags on the passenger seat of his car, then when he closed the door he saw me.

  ‘Fern! What the bloody hell are you doing here?’

  ‘It was just a party. They invited me.’

  ‘Fern, sweetheart, you don’t want to be mixing with these people. They’re druggies, Fern, druggies. They deal in drugs, do you know what that means?’

  I said I thought I did.

  ‘These are not good people, Fern. I can’t believe you’re here today!’

  I explained I’d never been there before. Which was of course untrue.

  ‘Look, why don’t you slip off?’ Bill said. ‘I’ll square it. This is nothing to do with you. You don’t want to get caught up in this lot.’

  He’d hardly finished saying this when there came the sound of a window smashing and a lot of screaming and shouting from the house. The rest of the uniformed policemen ran inside, and Bill went tearing in after them.

  ‘Clear off, Fern!’ were his last words to me.

  I was left standing outside in the yard, all alone. I looked about me. Then I looked through the car window. The two plastic bags were resting on the passenger seat. I opened the door of the police car, took out the plastic bags and stuffed them in my pocket. Then I closed the car door and walked away from the farm.

  20

  ‘Ultrasound. You’ve heard this old wives’ tale and you’ve heard tha
t old wives’ tale, and I’m here today to tell you there is no way of knowing the gender of a baby unless you have one of these.’

  MMM had a machine plugged in at the front of the class. It was a huge evil-looking cabinet with a screen and dials and switches, and trailing leads and wires like it hatched out writhing snakes just for fun. It looked like a nasty piece of science fiction. It had taken two caretakers to wheel it into the room and set it up for us to see. MMM said it was a great boon to obstetrics. She patted the machine as if she’d wired it together herself, or as if it were a capsule that had brought her safely back from space.

  ‘We’re going to need a good bicycle,’ Biddy said loudly, ‘if we’re to take one of these contraptions out and about with us.’

  MMM did what she always did with Biddy’s remarks, and that was to squint through her glasses, scrape her bottom lip with her prominent front teeth, and pretend Biddy was slightly simple. ‘No, Biddy. Midwives will not be expected to carry one of these around. One day, and that day is still a long way off, one of these will be set up at every hospital. This one we have here at the college is for teaching purposes.’

  I say she pretended. Sometimes MMM seemed so short of irony that maybe she actually thought Biddy had contemplated putting the machine in the wicker basket mounted on the handlebars of her bike. Biddy, though, was never thrown by this manner. ‘So we’re learning about a machine we’ll never get to use, then. I see.’

  It was only the second week of the course and already I could see the war shaping up between Biddy and MMM. Whenever Biddy spoke it was always with humour or arched, so that you took what she meant indirectly. MMM always said what she wanted to say with no room for margin nor skew, nor space for misunderstanding deliberate or otherwise. These two women couldn’t possibly inhabit the same room, or breathe the same air. They shouldn’t even have been put in the same lifetime together. It was a mistake.