Women Behaving Badly_An uplifting, feel-good holiday read Page 21

  How Maudie would have enjoyed this evening! The burger, the ice cream, all the noise and the people — in fact, all the things Mavis had found difficult — would have been right up her mother’s street. Maudie had always been a sociable person, who loved shopping and parties and what Gabs would have called “having a laugh”. Mavis herself had taken after her shy, taciturn father. Even after all these years, she still missed him.

  “I think it’s time I was getting back,” she said now. “Mother’s usually in bed by now.”

  “Me too,” said Alice. “Finn has lots of homework this weekend, and I’ve got some work to do.”

  “Righto,” said Gabs, gathering up her parcels (how had she managed to buy so much in such a relatively short time? Mavis wondered). “Let’s go.”

  “You didn’t really like the jeans, did you?” Alice said to Mavis when they were alone in Alice’s car.

  “Well…”

  “Oh, come on, Mavis! You don’t have to be polite. I could see you weren’t happy with them. But give them a try. They really do suit you, you know. And before you say it, you don’t have to wear them for Clifford. Wear them for yourself. You might even come to like them.”

  As they drew up outside Mavis’s house, Finn met them at the gate.

  “I can’t wake Maudie up,” he said.

  “What do you mean?” Alice asked.

  “Well, I went to make her a cup of tea, and when I got back she was asleep, and I can’t wake her up.”

  “She tends to drop off,” Mavis said. “She gets very tired about now.”

  But when they went into the living room, it was obvious that something was wrong. Certainly Maudie was in her chair and she appeared to be sleeping, but her body was bent at an awkward angle, one arm hung loosely over the arm of her chair, and a ribbon of spittle hung from her open mouth.

  “Oh, God!” Mavis ran over to her. “Mother? Mother! Wake up! Can you hear me? Wake up!” She shook Maudie’s shoulders. “Come on, Mother. Please!”

  “What’s the matter with her?” Finn asked. “She’s been fine all evening.”

  “Finn, dial for an ambulance,” Alice said.

  “But —”

  “Do it now.”

  Finn left the room, and Alice joined Mavis at Maudie’s side. “What do you think?” she asked. “Has this ever happened before?”

  “No. Never. Oh, God! I should never have gone out. I should never have left her! Come on, Mother. Please wake up!”

  “Mavis, whatever this is, it wasn’t your fault. It was going to happen whether you were here or not.”

  “She’s not — dead, is she?” Finn asked, coming back into the room.

  “No. Of course she’s not dead,” Alice said.

  “Was it — was it something I did?”

  “Of course not. I’m sure she’ll be fine. Did you phone for the ambulance?”

  “It’s on its way.”

  “Then go and make a cup of tea for Mavis. She looks as though she could do with one.”

  Mavis was stooping over Maudie, half holding her in her arms, weeping into her mother’s faded blue cardigan. She remembered her last words to her before she left: “You’ll be fine with Finn. You know Finn, don’t you? I’ll be back soon.” But she hadn’t been back soon. She’d been away for hours. And now Maudie had had this — this whatever it was, and she hadn’t been there. She had always promised herself that if anything happened to Maudie, she would be there.

  “Why did I leave her? Oh why did I leave her?” she wept.

  “You left her because you were having an evening out with friends,” Alice said. “You’re a marvellous daughter to her, but you can’t be with her every minute of every day. After all, you leave her to go to work, don’t you?”

  “That’s different.”

  “Why? Why is it different?”

  “I have to go to work.”

  “Well, sometimes you have to go out, too. To give yourself a break,” Alice said. “Now try not to worry. She’s breathing, she’s got a good strong pulse, and the medics will be here any minute. Drink your tea. You’re going to need it. You may be in for a long night.”

  “You’ve been so kind,” Mavis sobbed. “So kind. Both of you.”

  “That,” said Alice, “is what friends are for.”

  The ambulance arrived, and the ambulance men were kind and efficient and reassuring. They told Mavis that it looked like a stroke, and yes, of course she could come in the ambulance with Maudie.

  “We’ll follow in the car,” Alice told her.

  “Are you sure?” Mavis said. “It seems an awful lot to ask.”

  “You didn’t ask, and yes, of course I’m sure. You need someone around. For you.”

  “But your work…”

  “Never mind my work. This is more important.”

  “What about the cat? Oh dear. I’d completely forgotten about poor Pussolini.”

  “If ever an animal was capable of looking after itself,” said Alice, “it’s that one. Now, let’s get going.”

  It was only when they reached the hospital that Mavis realised, with some surprise, that for the best part of an hour, she hadn’t given so much as a thought to Clifford and his operation.

  Part Five

  Alice

  During the mercy dash to the hospital, Alice noted that Finn’s mood seemed to have improved greatly, and reflected that there was nothing like an emergency (someone else’s emergency, naturally) to lighten the mood.

  “There’s no blue light,” he complained as they tried to keep up with the ambulance. “No siren. Why isn’t there a siren?”

  Alice, who had been thinking the same thing, decided not to share her own conclusions: that being old largely cancelled out the emergency factor. Old people die — that’s what they do. And if it’s going to be sooner rather than later, what’s the hurry?

  “If it had been me, or even you —” (thank you, Finn) “— wouldn’t they have had a siren?” Finn persisted.

  “Quite possibly.” Alice narrowly avoided a motorbike. “I have no idea what rules govern the use of sirens.”

  “It wasn’t my fault, was it?”

  “No. I’ve told you. Of course it wasn’t your fault. You just had the bad luck to be there.”

  “Will she be all right?” Was there just the slightest hint of glee in Finn’s voice?

  “I’ve no idea.”

  “Are we going to stay at the hospital all night?”

  “No. Yes. Possibly. How on earth do I know at this stage?”

  “Just asking.”

  “Well, don’t.” Alice negotiated her way past a lorry. “I need to concentrate.”

  At the hospital, a very young-looking doctor examined Maudie (the fact that he looked so young probably said more about Alice’s age than about that of the doctor). He told Mavis that yes, it did look as though Maudie had had a stroke. They would have to do tests, and they would know more in the morning. The best thing Mavis could do would be to go home and get some rest.

  “Oh no,” Mavis said. “I couldn’t possibly do that. I’ll stay with Mother.”

  “Would you like us to stay with you?” Alice asked. “I’m perfectly happy to, if that would help.”

  But Mavis said she would be all right. Looking at her pale, anxious face, the new (and still inexpertly applied) make-up smudged down her cheeks, Alice felt a surge of tenderness. Poor Mavis. She seemed so isolated, with her mother and the cat and that awful Clifford. Had she no other friends who could rally round? It appeared not. Alice promised to phone Mr. Strong in the morning to tell him that Mavis wouldn’t be in to work, and to contact a neighbour, who might be persuaded to feed the cat.

  “Well, that’s that,” said Finn as they made cocoa on their return home in the small hours. He sounded disappointed, but what had he expected? An elderly woman suffering from a stroke was not the kind of thing of which TV medical dramas — the only kind Finn knew about — were made.

  “That’s that,” Alice agreed.<
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  “I’ll never let you get like — well, like Mavis,” Finn said after a moment.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Lonely. I’ll — I’ll look after you.” Finn’s voice was gruff, and Alice knew how hard it was for him to express emotion.

  “Thanks, Finn. That’s sweet of you.” She gave him hug. “I’ll bear that in mind.”

  But Alice’s patience was about to be sorely tried, for the following week, there was a parents’ evening at Finn’s school.

  “I think Trot should come this time,” Alice told him.

  “Why?” Finn looked up from his laptop.

  “Why do you think?”

  “He won’t like it.” Finn clicked on the mouse. The picture that came up (from where she was, it looked suspiciously like a pair of breasts) was quite definitely nothing to do with maths homework.

  “Well, that’s tough. He’s your father, and it’s time he played his part.”

  Finn was right. Trot didn’t like the idea at all.

  “But why, Alice? Why now? I thought you did all that sort of thing.”

  “That sort of thing being bringing Finn up, feeding him, putting up with his moods, clearing up after him —”

  “Okay, okay. I get the message. But you were the one who decided to have him.”

  “What?”

  “You had him.”

  “I can’t believe you’re saying this, Trot. We sorted all that out years ago, and it’s hardly affected you at all. You’ve abrogated pretty much all responsibility for your son —”

  “Oh. He’s my son now, is he?”

  “Yes. He’s your son. As much as he is mine, as a matter of fact. I’ve never asked much of you, but I think it would be nice if you came along to the school to hear how he’s doing. This is the beginning of his final GCSE year, and they want to discuss last term’s reports. It’s important. This is Finn’s future we’re talking about.”

  “You could always tell me what they say.”

  “I could, but I won’t. If you want to know, you’ll have to come with me.”

  “And what if I don’t want to know?”

  “Now you’re just being childish.” Alice sensed a hangover — Trot was always petulant after a heavy night — but decided not to say anything. “You ought to want to know. It’s good for Finn if he thinks you’re taking an interest.”

  “But I do take an interest! I took him fishing last weekend, and we went to that football match. I had an awful job getting the tickets, and they were bloody expensive. I —”

  “Trot, these are all fun things. Now that Finn’s nearly an adult, it’s time you took an interest in his future. Fishing and football are all very well, but they’re not going to equip him for a career.”

  “I didn’t get any qualifications, and I’m doing okay.”

  “Yeah, right. No career, no regular income, no wife or family to look after. Come to think of it, you’re in much the same position as Finn. The difference being that Finn is fifteen and you’re… you’re… well, a lot older.” It occurred to Alice that she had no idea how old Trot was.

  “I paint. I sold five pictures at that last exhibition.”

  “Five pictures! Well, I hope you’re not going to let that change your life!” Alice finally lost her temper.

  “You can be very nasty sometimes, Alice,” said Trot.

  “If you don’t come to this parents’ evening, you’ll find I can be a lot nastier. You owe it to Finn. Come to that, I think you owe it to me. It’s one evening, Trot. Just one evening. Surely you can manage that?”

  In the event, Trot consented to give up his evening. He also managed to get himself invited to supper beforehand.

  “How does he do it?” Alice asked as she prepared sausages and mash (no fatted calf this evening).

  “Charm,” Finn told her. “It’s where I get it from.”

  But during the parents’ evening, it transpired that charm wasn’t the only thing Finn had inherited from his father. Their first interview was with Finn’s form teacher, Mr. Langley.

  “He’s lazy, Mrs. Mayhew —”

  “Ms.,’ said Alice, not wanting anyone to think she was married to Trot, who nowadays sported a tatty little moustache and was wearing a very grubby pair of jeans.

  “Ms. Mayhew. I apologise.” Mr. Langley looked at Trot, and then glanced hastily away. “Finn’s bright. He could do anything he wanted to if he was prepared to work, but not to put too fine a point on it, he’s bone idle.”

  “I say!” Trot started to protest. “That’s not fair! I know for a fact —”

  “Shut up, Trot,” Alice hissed. She had heard all this many times before and was having none of Trot’s nonsense. Besides, it was high time that he was told about this other side of his son. It was one of the reasons she had asked him to come with her.

  “It’s difficult to know what to do,” she said. “He’ll spend ten minutes on his homework, and then say he’s finished it. I’ve no way of knowing whether that’s true. Or he’ll tell me that he does work hard, it’s just that I never see him when he’s doing it.”

  Trot laughed, and Alice glared at him.

  “I can read him the riot act if you’d like.” Mr. Langley seemed a mild-mannered man, not the kind to read an effective riot act. Seeing Alice’s expression, he smiled. “Oh, I can be quite scary if I need to be, but sometimes parents object. We have to be so careful nowadays.”

  “I shan’t object,” Alice said. “Scary sounds exactly what Finn needs. I’ll be only too happy for someone to frighten him into doing some work.”

  “Well, I object —” Trot began, but Alice gave him a sharp kick under the table. She had brought him along to listen, not put in his two pennyworth.

  It was the same story with all the other teachers. Finn was bright, but lazy. Alice had been told this on numerous occasions in the past, and she was at her wits’ end. In the pub on the way home, she tried to explain to Trot what an uphill struggle it was, trying to make Finn do any work, but Trot just couldn’t see it.

  “If he really is that lazy — and I’m still not sure I believe all these people — then can’t you just lock him in his room till he’s done his homework? Should be simple enough,” said Trot over his pint of bitter.

  “Lock Finn in his room,” repeated Alice, sipping her wine and trying to keep calm. “Now there’s a brilliant idea. Lock him up with his iPod and his sound system and his mobile and —”

  “You could take them away.”

  “Oh yes. So I could. I could empty Finn’s room out and leave him alone at his desk. Brilliant, Trot. Thank you so much. Now why didn’t I think of that before?”

  “Can’t be that hard,” grumbled Trot.

  “Okay. Why don’t you have him for the weekend and see if you can manage it? You’ve been promising he can come and stay for ages, and now’s your chance.”

  “But I was going to go out with some mates. It’s all fixed.”

  “Well, unfix it and have Finn instead. He could do with some proper time with you, and I could do with a free weekend. I’ll bring him round on Friday after school.”

  “With his bike? We can go for a bike ride.”

  “With his bike. And his homework.”

  Alice had another reason for wanting a free weekend. Jay had told her that Angela would be staying at her mother’s for a couple of days, and he wasn’t on call, so for once they might be able to spend some proper time together. She wondered briefly whether she could risk asking Jay to come and stay, but dismissed the idea. It was more than probable that Trot would tire of his parental duties and decide to return Finn early, or Finn himself might pitch up on his own (it was only a half-hour bike ride away). Once again, they would have to go in search of neutral ground — something that had once seemed adventurous, even exciting, but which had long since lost its attraction.

  Jay, however, had other ideas.

  “We could rent a cottage,” he said when Alice phoned to tell him she would be free.

>   “Could we?” She was doubtful.

  “Why not? We’re both off the hook for the weekend, and it would be nice to have somewhere that’s ours, even if it’s only for a couple of days.”

  “You mean play house?” The idea was certainly attractive.

  “Exactly. We can cook for each other, and make love when we want to, and be totally private. What do you think?”

  “I think it sounds wonderful.”

  Alice thought the idea of having a whole house to themselves — even a very small one — was very appealing. An affair was by its nature an all-or-nothing kind of thing. You were either together — in the same room or car, taking the same walk, eating the same meal — or you were apart. There was nothing in between. If they had a place to themselves, they would have space as well as each other’s company. They would be able to conduct themselves like a normal couple. They wouldn’t have to make the most of every minute, which could add pressure to an already difficult situation, since they would have two whole days together. If they were to have a row (and of course she hoped very much that they would not), there would be time to make it up afterwards. Making up after an argument is difficult if you’ve only got a short time in which to do it, and sometimes when she and Jay parted, it was on patched-up rather than friendly terms — explanations still wanting, apologies unsaid, both of them feeling ill-used and unhappy.

  If she was going to be away for the weekend, Alice realised that she would have to tell Finn in case he needed to contact her at home. This proved remarkably easy.

  “Are you going with the boyfriend?” Finn asked (he appeared to be texting his friends at the same time as talking to her).

  “Yes. Yes, I am,” Alice said.

  “Great.” Finn’s thumbs moved over the tiny keyboard with astonishing speed, and Alice briefly wished he could apply himself as diligently to his schoolwork. “When will you be back?”

  “Sunday afternoon. Is that okay?”

  “Yeah. Fine. Trot and I are doing a bike ride with one of his mates.”