Flying Under Bridges (23 page)

Adam
came upstairs while I was changing. He came into the bedroom looking very
serious. The avocado plant, I guessed. I’d accidentally killed one of his
avocado plants and I thought he’d seen it. But he hadn’t. It was worse than
that.

‘Eve,
we need to talk.’ He looked so grim that all sorts of stupid things ran through
my head. Maybe he was having an affair or dying. I imagined my whole life being
turned upside-down and I didn’t mind. I didn’t mind at all.

‘It’s
about my injury,’ he whispered.

‘What
injury?’

He
almost banged the dressing table in temper. ‘Don’t make this more difficult
than it is. My… personal injury.., from my trousers. I am worried about it. I
think maybe we should test it out. You know…
test it out…
this
evening.’

It was
not entirely romantic but I was too busy standing in front of the decapitated
avocado plant to really notice. ‘Right. Good idea,’ I said.

He and
John went into the garage to do men things while I got on with the supper. I
really didn’t want to cook. Especially not two meals. I got the rabbit for Adam
out of the freezer and defrosted it in the microwave. It was smaller than I’d
thought so I made frozen chicken escallops with mash and gravy for me, Shirley
and John, and something readymade and brown from Marks & Spencer for Tom.

Shirley
came home. I’d been up in the woods with Tom that day and it made me look at
Shirley again. They’re so different, my kids. I mean, I know that they both
came from Adam, but you wouldn’t guess it to look at them. I shouldn’t be the
least bit surprised to discover that the milkman had actually fathered one
while I was asleep. They’re both wonderful, but where Tom is so… relaxed,
Shirley is so organised. She always looks neat, well turned out. While Tom was
bunking-off school in the woods, she was always studying, doing well. My
daughter was going to be our little lawyer and my son was probably going to
need one. I hugged her and wanted to ruffle her hair. Untidy her a bit. She
handed over her gift for me.

‘Camembert,
Mum! All the way from Boulogne. I got Nana a present too,’ she announced. ‘Actually
we got hers in Dover —some paints. She used to love to paint.’

‘That’s
a lovely idea, darling.’

‘It was
John’s idea. He suggested it.’

Great.
The man was brimful of ideas. Perhaps he had thoughts on what to do with a used
speculum. It’s a long story. I didn’t get a chance to ask. John came out of the
garage and he and Shirley went into the dining room and spent a happy hour with
Mother, a tray of poster paints and an old roll of woodchip wallpaper from
under the stairs. Free of paint-by-number lines and able to see with her new
glasses, Mother produced some rather fine things. Actually, they were
wonderful. Great splashes of blue and orange paint with streaks of red and
yellow. The sort of thing Shirley had done at playgroup. I put a very bright
one up on the fridge with a magnet shaped like a Cornish pasty.

Tom
arrived full of good cheer. ‘That’s wonderful,’ he breathed when he saw Mother’s
painting. He stood looking at it. He kept grinning at it and no one could get
his attention. Adam wheeled Mother in to join us. We had to eat in the kitchen
now that she slept in the dining room. The WRVS had given us a wheelchair,
which was nice but it had a wonky wheel so it made great gouges in the kitchen
wall whenever Adam tried to move her.

‘Oh,
Adam, she doesn’t have to come in,’ I said.

‘Nonsense,’
he said, because he didn’t deal with her all day. ‘She needs the company.’

‘Who
ha, who ha,’ said Mother urgently. I’d got the hang of the different tones of ‘who
ha’.

‘She
wants her handbag. Shirley, darling, go and get Nana’s handbag.’

‘Mum,
couldn’t Tom have washed his hair? Can’t you get him to wash his hair?’

‘A hair
wash would be the least he could do,’ echoed Adam.

‘Nana’s
bag!’ I repeated, wishing they’d leave Tom alone.

Mother
sat up to table, clutching her bag and looking bewildered. I had tried with
her hair but it was no use. Now that she didn’t eat properly and her hair stuck
up, she looked like a surprised stick insect. Tom stood transfixed in front of
the fridge. It was the perfect Oxo family meal.

‘Tom sit
down. Have some salad. Do you good.’

Tom
looked briefly at the food. ‘You shouldn’t take it for granted that you’re
entitled to eat fresh salad all year round.

People
don’t think about the cumulative environmental damage that is done by planes
and trucks as they rush fruit and veg to us out of season.’

‘The
old swimming baths are up for sale,’ Adam announced, while I dished up.

I
smiled at Shirley. ‘I can’t wait, darling, you’re going to have to tell me the
news. What have you decided? Durham.

Exeter …
it’s not Oxford, is it? No. A scholarship?’

‘It’s
not about university, Mum.’

‘It isn’t?’
My stomach tightened. Something didn’t feel right. Adam seemed to be having a
conversation on his own.

‘I don’t
know what you could use it for but it’s a big space.’

John
reached over and patted my hand. ‘It’s all right, Mrs Marshall. It’s good news.’
He smiled at me, he smiled at Shirley, actually he smiled at everyone. ‘Shirley
has been saved.’

‘Saved?’

‘I’ve
found God, Mum,’ said Shirley.

Adam
chortled and finally joined the conversation, saying rather too heartily, ‘Found
God! Didn’t know he was missing.’ This observation was followed by total
silence.

‘Your
idea, John?’ I managed.

Shirley
smiled at him. ‘Well, we talked about it on the way to France and then John
introduced me to the church this morning. It was like a miracle.’ John and
Shirley gooed at each other.

‘This
rabbit tastes funny’ said Adam, poking it with his knife.

Tom had
taken the painting off the fridge and was staring at it. He looked at the table
for a moment and said, ‘I think it could be one of my squirrels.’

‘But it
didn’t have any skin on,’ I said.

Tom
nodded. ‘No, I used that for something else.’

I felt
bewildered. Not about the squirrel, although Adam said it had ruined his
digestion. It could have been worse. The freezer is full of odd things. I might
easily have thought the budgie was just a very small chicken. I was bewildered
about Shirley. Of course it was fine to find God but she looked different. Distant
somehow. I kept staring at her and she and John kept smiling. That was why I
wasn’t paying attention to Mother.

Mother
was not eating. I had put a plate of food in front of her out of habit but I
was expecting to feed her when everyone was finished. She could just about move
her right side. With her left hand she was clutching her handbag and slowly
reaching out with her right to grab bits of rabbit stew and chicken escalope,
dripping with gravy, and place them in her bag. The mash was next and then some
of the vegetables.

‘Mother!’
I yelled loud enough for Tom to come away from the fridge. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Who
ha, who ha,’ came the reply.

‘Oh,
God.’ I got up but I was in a rush to stop the last of the gravy being scooped
up as well. Never the graceful mover, I tripped as I stood and fell headlong
into Adam. I put my hand out to save myself and landed right in his lap. He
leapt up with the pain to his injured member and pushed me away. Still intent
on Mother, I hurtled forward and tried to grab her bag to stop her filling it.
For a woman of sixty-five who had had a stroke, she was remarkably strong. As I
grabbed the handle she pulled it away from me but I couldn’t let go. My hand
had caught in the strap and I fell forward, pulling Mother from her wheelchair
and on to the floor.

‘Who
ha, who ha!’ yelled Mother, and let go of the bag. The wretched container,
pregnant with supper, flew towards the fridge where Mother’s art work was
covered in a mix of gravy, potato and bits of squirrel.

After
the terrible supper we had coffee in the garden. The low sun didn’t help the
slight headache I had and I felt quite sick. Tom went back to base camp and
John took Shirley off for a pray or something. When Adam and I got into bed, I
was feeling really low. He limped in from the bathroom holding both hands across
his manhood.

‘Please,
don’t ask me to perform,’ he moaned. ‘I can’t. I just can’t I didn’t. Instead I
lay looking at his broken and sellotaped avocado plant.

‘Adam,’
I said, ‘I’ve been thinking.’ Which, of course, didn’t quite cover the day I’d
had. ‘I was thinking that I could do with some more help around the house.’ If
we could talk about his penis then I could make a big, bold feminist statement.
The only thing I had really got out of my consciousness-raising was that Adam
did nothing to help and we both lived here. I wanted some time to myself. I
wanted to come in some days and find my dinner ready. I wanted to share— ‘You’re
right’ said Adam. Well, I could have fallen on the floor. ‘You do too much and
we need to make a change. I’m sorry, I should have done something about it
before.’ He leant over and patted me on the arm. ‘I’ll get you a cleaner.’

A
cleaner? I was reading in the paper that a group of scientists have discovered
that some schools of whales have different accents from others. They taped some
whales in the Pacific and then some in the Atlantic and somewhere else and they
all use the same sort of noises but slightly differently. The scientist said it
was the same language with a different accent. I think Adam and I had the same
accent but different languages.

Love,
Eve

PS. I
just got your card. I’m glad Shirley doesn’t understand the fig tree story
either. I don’t know why but it makes me feel better. At least she’s starting
to talk. I miss you both.

Chapter
Fourteen

Under the new Talent Team
scheme, Inge’s talent was protected the minute she entered the BBC building.
She had barely passed through the stage door at Television Centre when Jenny
Wilson —talent guardian to the stars — was standing in front of her with a
Styrofoam cup of coffee.

‘Black,
one sugar,’ she boomed, and beamed as she handed over the beverage to Inge.
This required Inge to put down the briefcase, handbag and newspaper she was
carrying.

‘Thanks,
…’

Jenny
frowned at her charge. ‘You don’t look pleased? Oh God, don’t tell me, was it
two sugars?”

‘No.
One is great.’

‘You do
have coffee in the mornings, don’t you?’

‘Yes, I
just usually wait till I get out of the foyer.’

Jenny
put back her head and roared with laughter at this fine remark. She liked Inge
a lot. Inge was a very nice woman. She was a pleasure to guard. A large clock
above the bank of foyer televisions came into Jenny’s field of vision with
shocking focus.

‘Oh my
word, we’re late! Quick, quick. We cannot keep Paul waiting.’ Jenny raced off
towards the lifts. ‘I’ll get the lift. Leave that to me. Excuse me, you there,
hold the lift! We need the lift for Inge Holbrook.’

A
deeply impressed young man allowed himself to be crushed to near-death in an
attempt to halt the progress of one of the lifts.

He smiled
weakly from between the metal doors as Inge attempted to pick up her case and
paper while balancing the hot coffee.

‘Inge,
the time!’ admonished Jenny.

Inge
rushed forward rather faster than her coffee cup. For a brief cartoon moment
the drink hovered in. the air and then descended down Inge’s cream trouser
suit. It was black coffee. There was nothing cream about it. She let out a loud
yell that was followed by an even greater cry from Jenny.

‘Oh my
God, oh my God, Inge Holbrook is injured.’ Jenny rushed to the reception desk.
She was a big woman and the movement had a ripple effect across the room.
Everyone who had been waiting now started watching. ‘Tannoy, immediately. We
need a first-aider or a doctor. Whatever you can get. Inge Holbrook has been injured!’

No one
rushed to help but Inge was now the centre of everyone’s attention.
Fortunately Jenny had purchased the coffee some time in advance of Inge’s
arrival and it had not exactly been boiling. Inge removed a hanky and dabbed
at the damage.

‘I’m fine,
Jenny. I’m fine.’

Jenny
rushed from the desk to her charge. ‘A wheelchair? What about a wheelchair?’

‘No. Nothing.
I’m fine.’

Jenny
wrung her hands in a fine imitation of old time melodrama. ‘It’s my fault. I
was worried about the time.’ She pointed to the clock. Inge looked up.

‘That’s
the time in New York,’ she said quietly.

No
first-aider turned up and the only doctor in the building was there as a
television presenter so no one thought to call him. When things settled down,
Inge and Jenny once more headed for the lift. Jenny was aware that her first
greeting in the building had not been a big success. She stood silently for a
while, watching the numbers in the lift light up.