Narrow Minds (12 page)

Of course this would have to be one of those weekends that my mum and dad pushed off to Southampton to sail their own boat around the coast so they didn't actually see the email until Monday. By Sunday night the silence was beginning to play havoc with my nerves.

Monday morning eight o'clock and Dad was on the phone.

He paused for a moment just to let me get well and truly tied up in knots then laughed. ‘Go on, buy your wretched boat.' His voice vanished beneath my whoops and profuse thanks.

After I had calmed down we went through all the details of the loan. Fair and legal, as long as I kept my end of the bargain and one of us got a job all would be well.

When Geoff got home that night he was bounced, Tigger-like, as he walked through the door.

‘Dad said yes, Dad said yes,' I bellowed at him as I leapt up and down.

Geoff laughed and tried to hold me off. ‘We still have to find a boat, you know.'

Finally leaving him alone to get his boots off I rushed over to the computer. ‘What about these, I know we've looked at them before but they seem to be the best of a bad bunch.'

‘Them?' Geoff looked up from his feet. ‘How many do you think we need?'

‘Oh just one will do,' I said airily, flapping a hand at him. ‘But have another look at these two, what do you think?'

Geoff wandered over and stared at the screen which showed the two 70ft boats moored at Alvechurch. Funnily enough they were very similar to the last boat we had bought, grey and red, sad and listing, I was having another déjà vu moment.

I hopped up and down on the spot while he slowly re-read through the specs on both boats. Finally he turned to me and grinned. ‘I think you're right, these definitely have more potential than most. The engine in the middle of the boat is going to be a pain but we'll just have to be careful how we convert around it.'

That week was one of the longest I have ever had to endure. We had made an appointment to see the boats on Saturday, Mum and Dad were meeting us at Birmingham, just for the laugh, I think. They didn't really care what boat we bought but were quite enthusiastic about paddling about in the sunshine.

Thursday night we were due at a fund raising ‘do' at Sam's school. I had spent most of the week whinging that I didn't want to go. But, for once, Geoff put his foot down.

‘Oh come on.' He poked me in the ribs as I was trying to find something to wear. ‘You moan about these people all the time, don't you want me to meet them, maybe they're really nice and you're the one that's weird.'

I stuck my tongue out at him and went back to leafing through my wardrobe, jeans, jeans, overalls (hmm I'd wondered where they'd gone) did I even own a skirt? I knew that I didn't own any shoes that weren't ‘functional' so boots would have to do, a little odd in July, but hey it was either that or buy new shoes and Geoff wasn't about to be conned like that.

What is it about men that they can just chat? Geoff seemed to get on fine with most of the blokes in the room. He wandered up to them, dragging me with him (obviously showing how it was done) but as the interminable evening wore on his face took on a sort of rigid smile and I noticed that he kept glancing at his watch.

‘Problems?' I enquired with a grin.

Geoff crinkled his nose. ‘No not really, I just want to be at home checking out those boats and making plans.' He looked around the hall blowing his lips out at the high ceiling, squinting in the harsh fluorescent light above the canteen hatch that was serving as the bar.

Finally, we gave up wandering about and sat down at the edge of the hall, our knees high as we perched on the kiddy-sized, metal, fold-out chairs. The PTA had made a half-hearted attempt to decorate with multi-coloured paper streamers that hung in a sort of swag over the stage. Unfortunately the heat rising from the aging band who were desperately attempting covers of eighties hits had unravelled them and they now hung in dejected limp clumps to each side. I smiled as the lead singer, who had attempted a sort of overweight Bowie look, got caught up in them as he attempted to lead the crowd in the ‘Time Warp'.

Geoff followed my gaze and laughed as well. ‘That's an image that's going to stay with me for a while.'

I nodded. ‘Why are none of these people smiling?' I stared around at the crowd, there was a sort of dogged determination to the dancers. Moving as little as possible, they swayed in one place, glaring at each other when their personal bubble was invaded. With that many stilettos on a hard wood floor the noise should have been almost deafening but the grim silence was much more worrying.

Geoff shook his head and checked his watch again.

I usually enjoy a good boogie, especially when the ‘middle-aged' are involved. Let off the leash of expectation, responsibility and with the smallest amount of alcohol to fuel them, older women, or at least the ones I knew, were more than happy to let their hair down. Teenagers, with their almost psychotic worries about self-image and peer perception, would be horrified at what happened at a company Christmas ‘do' or a forty-fifth birthday party.

To see older flesh so unashamedly on display was usually the sign of a good night out. Inappropriate shoes and skin-tight designer dresses that fit in front on the mirror but, after a couple of drinks and with the stomach muscles now at ease, resemble a cushion with a bungee cord around it, usually seem to be the norm. The scars and traumas of forty-plus years of life and children, are buried in an evening of bad dancing and howling laughter. Arms raised, bingo wings flapping in time to the music, dyed hair flopping, sweaty and wet over deepening crow's feet and laughter lines, the whole scene one glorious salutation to middle age. Nobody cares, everybody laughs and those under twenty decide to leave before needing to find a therapist.

But not here.

When the music stopped the dance floor came to a standstill; there was polite clapping then silence, some moved to the bar for a refill, some moved to the side to rest and some just stood frowning, waiting for the next tune. My facetious Stepford analogy took on a bleak reality.

As we sat there watching the strange, almost robotically grim, determination to not show oneself up, our reverie was disturbed by a couple sitting next to us. They were a slightly mismatched pair, he was dressed in a cheap grey suit with brown lace-up shoes, his over-long dull brown hair stuck to his head in long strands, he looked uncomfortable; shuffling his feet and running his hand over his greying moustache.

She, on the other hand, had gone to town. Bottle-blonde hair flopped solidly over one purple and green eye, the only time the completely immobilised ‘do' moved was when her false eyelashes caught in the fringe. She had managed to pour herself into a very pleasant dress, black with large white flowers, which fell in soft folds to just above her black-stockinged knee. With a fair amount of effort however, she had managed to cheapen it with a huge red plastic belt and matching high-heeled shoes, which caused her to stagger and totter as she headed towards the sanctity of the tiny chairs.

‘Hello.' I knew she was on the PTA so at least I could make conversation, ‘Looks like everyone's having a good time, the decorations look …' argh, truth or lies, truth or lies? … lies … ‘Nice.'

She stared at me for a moment then peeling her gaze away she spoke around me to Geoff. ‘Hello, you must be Sam's dad.'

Geoff raised his eyebrows, nodded and reached over to shake her hand. ‘Hi, yes I'm Geoff.' He indicated me with a hug. ‘You already know Marie.'

The woman glanced at me then smiled back at Geoff. ‘Hmm.' She dismissed me with a lifted lip.

Geoff's eyes widened as she gave him another big smile the big, glossy red lips pulled back to reveal lipstick-stained teeth. I noticed that she stuck the tip of her tongue through a small gap in her front teeth when she smiled.

‘So what do you do?' Getting up, she walked around me to sit on the chair on the other side of Geoff.

Geoff stared at her in alarm and shuffled imperceptibly toward me. ‘Electrician.'

‘Ooo,' she cooed, ‘I couldn't work out all those coloured wires, I'd blow myself up.'

Honestly, this was really too much. I snorted a laugh. Geoff sneaked another look at his watch. ‘It's not that difficult really.' He gave her a slightly rigid smile.

Geoff was now leaning so far away from her he was almost sitting in my lap.

‘You must love doing something so interesting.' Wah! I couldn't believe it, she actually reached over and touched his thigh.

Geoff panicked and jumped. ‘Well it's not exactly my raison d'être.'

I couldn't resist it and I know it was cruel, but I felt it was such an old joke there was no way she'd fall for it. However, it might remind her that his wife was sitting right next to her watching the appalling femme fatale act. At her look of confusion I interjected, ‘It's like an Eccles cake.'

She sneered at me (dammit, I knew those old jokes couldn't cut it any more). Sliding her stony gaze up my body, she took a pointed look at my boots, long brown cord skirt and slightly baggy blouse, minimal make-up and mad spiky red hair, then, obviously unimpressed, flicked her gaze away while she smoothed her skin-tight dress. ‘I never eat anything with dried fruit in it,' she snapped and after staring pointedly at my stomach for a moment she gave me an evil smile. ‘It's so fattening.'

I think it was at the choking sound from my husband that I actually started laughing. Obviously this wasn't the reaction she'd expected and when Geoff joined in with a snigger, she got up from her chair, spun on her heel and stamped away, aware that we were laughing at her but not knowing why.

Geoff looked at his watch, then, pointedly gallant, he reached for my coat and held it solicitously for my attention. ‘Come on,' he said and nodded toward the door. ‘Let's get the hell out of here.'

I stared around at the grim-faced dancers still swaying in place, trying to get images of Hotel California out of my mind, nodded my agreement and we scarpered.

On the walk back to the car I couldn't help needling Geoff a little. ‘What on earth was the matter with you? Wouldn't most men have loved all that attention?‘

Geoff shuddered. ‘I felt like a teenager again, I just didn't know what to say. It seemed rude to run screaming through the crowd.'

We wandered in happy silence through the village, past the church, and down to the Chinese takeaway, and around the spa shop into the car park.

Geoff climbed into our little Daewoo Matiz, sighed and said, ‘I still think you're wrong.'

‘Huh?' I wondered what on earth he was talking about.

‘They're really the same here as they are everywhere else.' He started reversing the little car out of the car park. ‘It's not them, it's us. We
could
fit in if we tried but we want to be somewhere else and we're looking for something to blame that on.'

I shook my head. ‘You're probably right, but if we were going to stay I'd want to move to Durham because I still think this particular village is odd.' I winced as a taxi screamed up the high street. ‘I was talking to an estate agent yesterday, and even he stated that the people round here were weird.' I shrugged. ‘Anyway, call me a quitter, but I'm completely unwilling to stick around and find out about it all.'

Geoff peered into the dark, trying to locate the entrance to our drive. It was just at the end of a huge wall and was always difficult to find, I'd lost count of the times I'd driven past and headed towards the hills – probably some deep psychological need. ‘Well let's hope these boats on Saturday are something we can work with,' he said shaking his head. ‘We're nearly out of oil and with the prices going up, the next tank full is going to cost nearly eight hundred pounds.'

My stomach churned, I didn't want to hear about another wretched household bill.

That Saturday we set out early, the kids were half excited, half filled with trepidation, Charlie was particularly on tenterhooks. She hadn't been involved when we had bought our last boat as she had been living with her father at the time. She had only come to live with us when we were about halfway through the rebuild, so she hadn't actually lived through the first twelve months of camping. Cold, wood everywhere, tripping over tools and generally being as poor as church mice because every penny we had went on materials. She was trying to be positive but I could see that she was going to miss her room and certain bits of ‘stuff'. I felt a little guilty, but after the whisky debacle I felt that she would be better back in our alternative way of life (or at least that's what I told myself).

Arriving at Alvechurch Marina I felt the tension that had built up over the last six months begin to crack, the sun was shining, creating sparkles and glints on the grey-brown water, a small paddle of ducks drifted around the boats, occasionally breaking into a quacking, splashing panic as a couple of hopeful swans, also casing the boats, flapped and hissed evil expletives at them when they came too close.

While Geoff and the kids wandered over to the Marina office in search of keys, I sat on one of the sun warmed seats and watched the meanderings of the local live-aboards, most moving around with hoses, engine parts and other various sundry items that are needed on board.

A shout broke through my reverie and I waved as Mum and Dad climbed out of their car.

‘Where is it then?' Mum rushed over, leaving Dad to sort out the car, the parking, the lunch hamper? (Good grief!)

I waved a hand toward the floating pontoons that stuck out into the river, ‘Over there somewhere, I expect.' I swivelled around as I heard Sam's voice above the sound of roaring generators and pumps. ‘Here come the keys now.'

‘NANNY!' Sam ran over to her and looked hopeful. ‘They're selling ice-creams in the shop.' He grinned up at her and shuffled a foot. ‘It is quite hot … don't you think?'