Diary of a Provincial Lesbian (17 page)

‘Not if Georgie and Stella are there.’

‘They won’t be. As far as I know they’re either in Edinburgh or their house in Spain.’

‘Then I’ll come.’

July 7
^th

Noreen feels I’m ready to tackle lavatories. Says, ‘The GENTS won’t bite. Knock loudly when you go in. Once in prop the door open with your bucket. Okay?’

Did this. However, within minutes of propping door open with bucket Peter came along and said he was absolutely desperate. Noreen appeared and told Peter playfully that he was a naughty boy. Then told me to do the Ladies’ lavs, she’d handle the GENTS today. She went into the toilet with Peter and shut door.

There is definitely something going on between Peter and Noreen. Miriam would call it
hanky-panky.

July 6
^th

Am inundated with tomatoes. Offer dozen to Deirdre.

She shakes her head, ‘More than my life’s worth to eat a fresh tomato.’

Ask
Why?

‘They’re just so...exposed.’

Mr Wheeler accepts a bag of them. ‘But that’s your lot Margaret,’ he says as if I’m trying to palm off stolen goods.

July 8
^th

Much ado about Miriam, but first, a first. This morning I cleaned the GENTS urinals. Will enter on my CV.

A two-fold story of Miriam. One o’clock Miriam arrives in dreadful fury carrying a packet of twenty Benson and Hedges and a lighter. Both Tom and I try to persuade her to part with cigarettes. Tom beside himself.

‘Miriam, I forbid you to smoke,’ he thunders, which is wrong tack to take. Miriam adopts equally thunderous stance, juts chin forward, eyes flash, shoulders back. ‘Then I throw in my job,’ she bellows.

Tom appeals to me as t
he voice of reason
.

I say, ‘Miriam, you’ve done so well not smoking for so many months...’

‘What is left to me?’ she shouts at the ceiling.

Which is a hard question to answer. Flounder around but Tom is inspired, he says, ‘Miriam we love you,’ and puts his arms around her. ‘Come on Margaret, group hug for Miriam.’

Manage tepid hug as find Miriam on occasion bracing rather than huggable. However, group hug does the trick and we lower Miriam into her swivel chair. Tom says, as if talking to a young and armed first offender, ‘May I take the cigarettes?’

Miriam snuffles, ‘All right.’

Tom takes cigarettes, says, ‘Phew, thought we’d lost you there.’

Which seemed a little over the top. Not as though Miriam was about to jump out of a sixth floor window. Tom sits down in my chair and I try to find a place to sit on top of the filing cabinet but this impossible without the aid of a step ladder so lean against the filing cabinet. NB. Later find I have bruised my shoulder from constant contact with metal cabinet.

Miriam explains that her mother is going out with Mrs Ferguson. Not in any romantic sense but, unbeknownst to Miriam, they have become close friends with a mutual interest in shopping.

‘Tea and biscuits all round might be a good idea,’ Tom tells me, while Miriam is blowing her nose.

Apparently Mrs Ferguson called at their flat some weeks ago to see if Miriam would reconsider working at the Hospice Shop. Miriam out but mother in. Over sherry and Bombay Mix they’d discussed the lack of attractive clothes for older women.

‘What do they want attractive clothes for? Who even notices they’re alive?’ Miriam appeals to us. Tom jerks his head - a movement somewhere between a shake and a nod while I demur.

‘I thought you’d demur,’ Miriam says accusingly.

The previous evening, Miriam had arrived home to find her mother kneeling on the carpet, her mouth full of dressmaker pins as she took up the hem of Mrs Ferguson’s ‘A’ line skirt.

‘But surely this is a good thing Miriam?’ I say. ‘It gives you an opportunity to get out more and make a life for yourself.’

Miriam’s brow lowering. Tom says, ‘I think you’re missing the point here, Margaret...’

Miriam talking to me as if I’m a five-year-old says, ‘I may want to get out more and make a life of my own but I don’t want to be forced into it, you... you dumb cluck.’

Enter another first on CV. Have never been called a dumb cluck before.

Second fold of ‘two-fold’ Miriam story. About seven o’clock this evening realised that I needed tins of cat food. Tilly, although slight cat, eats more and more, which Deirdre says is a sign of Tilly’s worsening physical condition and I choose to see as a sign that Tilly is holding her own.

As I was going into the supermarket spotted woman coming out, head completely hidden by the gigantic mixed bunch of flowers she carried. It was Miriam. Recognised her immediately by the particular type of orthopaedic shoes she wears and the fact she treble knots her laces, which I’m sure is a sign of something significant.

‘Hello Miriam,’ I said. ‘Feeling any better?’

Miriam’s face wearing embarrassed expression appeared above the flowers. ‘Much better.’

‘Flowers for your mum?’

‘Er yes. Er no.’

‘So they’re not for your mum?’

‘Is this some kind of interrogation?’

‘Sorry. None of my business.’

‘Exactly.’ But then she absolutely beamed at me. ‘It’s funny how life can turn on a sixpence, isn’t it?’

Agreed it was and we parted; Miriam walking with the proverbial spring in her step, me mystified.

July 9
^th

Wake up for once not thinking of Georgie. Instead thinking it’s several weeks since I’ve heard from Janice. Wonder whether to telephone. Did she see our relationship as purely professional or bordering on friendship? Now I’m on my own I realise I’ve lost all knowledge of where boundaries begin and end, what a lone woman can and can’t do. Wouldn’t want Janice to imagine I’m attracted to her and be horrified.

A card depicting the Highlands, with two highland cattle in forefront of photograph looking stoical, from Georgie. Try to see cattle as representation of Georgie and Stella but can’t help instead firmly believing that I’m looking at the bovine version of Miriam and myself.

Georgie asks if I could send on the brass fire iron set if I’m not using it. Says if I’m agreeable to request she will forward p & p. Waste ten minutes of my life mulling over how, when Georgie and I first got together, we used to toast crumpets and buns with the toasting fork appendage. How delicious we imagined the crumpets and buns tasted, even the burnt bits. This at least eight years ago.

Am not using fire iron set. In fact they were rarely used. Consider what sort of fire Stella and Georgie must have, to feel the need for them. See an enormous walk-in fireplace, capacious leather armchairs on each side. Carry set into kitchen. Feel obliged to dust them but draw the line at applying Brasso. Send them off with a postcard of Bittlesea Bay under extreme weather conditions. Write
Don’t bother with p & p. Take care. Margaret.

Nic rang cock-a-hoop as if there hadn’t been any awkwardness between us for the last few months.

Margaret is that you?’ she bellowed down the telephone. ‘Guess what?  I’ve won it. The Golden Trowel is mine! Well deserved I might say. Seen the competition and frankly some of those gardens were non-starters. How’s your patch? Coming along nicely? Plenty of birds and bees?’

Some time later asked me to a celebratory barbecue, would also ask Laura as she was
‘a tonic
’.

July 10
^th

Laura telephoned to say she’s agreed to celebratory barbecue at Nic and Simone’s but hoped Nic wasn’t going to drone on about gardening all evening. Asked if she could stay over as she intended to drink as much as her stomach would hold. Says she’s in two minds whether to bring Iris.

Go to Deirdre and Martin’s for the evening. They are taking me through the
Star Wars Trilogy
so I’m prepared for something called
Revenge of the Sith
which comes out next year. Deirdre orders three large pizzas because nobody is willing to share. Film for the evening
Episode V1, Return of the Jedi
.

I ask, ‘How can it be a trilogy when we’re already up to number six?’

Deirdre says, ‘That would take too long to answer - Lord Dudley wants to sit on your lap.’

‘Lord Dudley wants a piece of my pizza.’

‘Lord Dudley wants the gas fire on.’

‘In July?’

‘Lord Dudley likes the fire on all year round. Sorry about the film, this isn’t one of the best.’ Deirdre looks enviously at Martin’s pepperoni pizza as does Lord Dudley.

Martin explodes. ‘Could you all be quiet?’ he barks, as if addressing an assembly of at least twelve instead of two women and a silent furry cat. ‘Just because the film’s a third-rater doesn’t mean I want to listen to you lot rabbiting away over complete bloody trivia.’

(Martin’s bark far worse than his bite. He gets up and switches the gas fire on for Lord Dudley, slaps a slice of his pepperoni pizza on Deirdre’s empty plate.)

‘Thank you darling,’ she says. He winces.

I am quite impressed with the
Star Wars
films I’ve seen round Deirdre and Martin’s. Although still confused by the storylines find myself becoming a
Star Wars
aficionado decades after everyone else, with a yearning to become a Jedi knight. Walk taller as I leave their house and try to adopt a noble expression.

July 11
^th

Ask Mr Wheeler if he’s ever seen a
Star Wars
film? He says no. Not his cup of tea. Tell him a little of what I’ve gleaned re. Jedi knights. He says, ‘Hmmm, not dissimilar to the knights of old but better equipped.’ Decide Mr Wheeler has some of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s gravitas and wisdom.

Mr Wheeler asks if I’ve thought any more about taking up the mantle of a Wheeler’s Watch person. Adds that such a person is also not so far removed from a Jedi knight. Recognise I have walked into a trap of my own making. Say I’m very tired. Mr Wheeler says the fresh air would do me good. Seeing my un-Jedi-like expression Mr Wheeler says, ‘Well please yourself.’ He looks disappointed and old which is a ploy because, as I say ungraciously, ‘Oh very well,’ he straightens up and beams at me. Says, ‘Good girl, Margaret.’

Stomp off home considering whether it is patronizing of Mr Wheeler to call me a ‘good girl’ or whether I should be pleased, as inside I sometimes still feel at least like a girl if not necessarily a good one.

July 15
^th

Tom has tried to tell me something he considers important three times now. Today about eleven when I took his tea into his office and placed it on his
Woodpeckers of the Western Hemispheres
coaster, noticed that on stepping into the room, a) Tom began frantically doodling on his note pad and b) his ears turned from white to red.

‘Thank you Margaret,’ he said without looking up from his doodle. NB. nothing special about doodle; square flower pot with rudimentary tulips. I returned to my desk and my own tea. I don’t have a coaster I have a blue plastic lid for cat food tins. Within minutes Tom sauntered out of his office carrying his cup, saucer and coaster and sat down in Miriam’s chair.

‘Well Margaret,’ he said. ‘How was your weekend?’

Which was a surprising question seeing it was now Thursday.

‘Not too bad,’ I responded cautiously.

‘Margaret can we talk? Really talk?’

‘Actually you said you wanted this set of accounts before one.’

‘Just stop for a minute.’

I stopped typing.

‘The thing is...to get to the point...cut straight to the chase, none of us are getting any younger. I’m not getting any younger.’ He clasped his hands around his cup and leant towards me - a slight dampness on his upper lip, ‘Margaret I’m going to tell you something which nobody else in the whole wide world knows apart from Miriam and a few close others.’

‘Better not. I’m terrible at keeping secrets.’

‘Doesn’t matter now, or it won’t. Margaret I’m thinking of coming out.’

Said nothing. Waited for Tom to finish sentence:
to play, of my shell, in a rash.
He didn’t. He shut his mouth and stared at me hopefully.

‘Coming out of what?’

His Adam’s apple appeared and disappeared back under his shirt collar, ‘Coming out of the cupboard.’

‘Do you mean closet?’

‘Yes. Although I’m happier with cupboard. In my mind’s eye I’m stepping out of one of those bulky dark Victorian cupboards into daylight. A closet seems too cramped for a big chap like me.’

Puzzled I said, ‘But what about that time you brought in the local paper, complaining that lesbians were taking over Bittlesea Bay?’

‘Testing the water. Seeing how the land lay. Funnily enough - well not that funny - Miriam confided in me about the two of you, then I came out to her...’
Thinks: good buddy Miriam had kept this mighty quiet
. ‘...Sorry to hear about your partner Georgie leaving but, as Miriam says, at least you’ve had several bites of life’s cherry. We’ve had sweet fanny adams.’

When Miriam comes in at one she looks cheerful. Goes into Tom’s office and shuts the door. Is still in there when I go home. Call in at Hospice Shop. Very crowded. Spot Miriam’s mother putting price tickets on a pile of men’s shirts. Mrs Ferguson is at the back of the shop sorting through the LPs. ‘What about an Irving Berlin?’ she shouts.

Miriam’s mother says, ‘Isn’t there anything more up-to-date?’

‘Matt Monro’s
Greatest Hits
?’

‘Oh yes. Put
Born Free
on.’

Buy a cracked milk jug just for something to buy. Mrs Ferguson offers me a reduction but I refuse.