Hosting a meeting with Gabs and Mavis was proving more difficult than Alice had anticipated. For a start, there was Finn.
“What’s this meeting about?” he’d asked her when she told him that she’d like to have the house to herself.
“I told you. It’s a reading group.”
“But you don’t read,” Finn said reasonably.
“I do when I have time.”
“Okay then. You don’t have time. So what’s the point in joining a reading group?”
“The discussion will be interesting.”
“No, it won’t. How can listening to people discussing a book you haven’t read possibly be interesting?”
“Finn, this is my house, these are my friends, and what we do or what we talk about is none of your business.”
“And you want me out of the way?”
“Correct. Anyway, I thought you were seeing Trot.”
“He called it off. Something about seeing a man about a dog.”
Alice knew that this probably meant seeing several men about a pint, but refrained from saying so.
“You don’t go out when I have friends,” he pointed out.
“You have your own room to take them up to,” Alice said.
“Well, why can’t you —”
“Entertain people in my bedroom? I don’t think so, Finn.”
“It’s an age thing, is it?” Finn asked.
“I suppose you could say that.”
“Okay. Here’s the deal,” said Finn after a moment’s thought. “I’ll ask Kenny round, and we can play computer games in my room. We won’t make any noise, and we won’t interfere with your meeting. How does that sound?”
“I suppose it sounds all right,” Alice said doubtfully.
“And Kenny can stay the night.”
“Who said anything about staying the night?”
“I did.” Finn kissed the top of her head. “Thanks, Mum.”
Now Alice did a quick tidy round the living room. She scooped up Finn’s trainers and sweater and deposited them at the bottom of the stairs, and rescued a bag of dirty PE kit from the hallway. She cleared away a pile of books, plumped up some cushions, and brushed a few stray crumbs under a chair. The house would never be as tidy as Mavis’s, but it’d have to do.
Gabs arrived first.
“Sorry to be early,” she said, dumping an enormous holdall on the floor and sinking down on the sofa. “I came straight from work. It wasn’t worth going home first.”
Alice fetched a bottle of wine and glasses.
“Will red be okay? I haven’t any white.”
“Anything would be wonderful.” Gabs kicked off her shoes. “Ooh. That’s better. What a day! This man — he’s a real creep, but rich, you know? — he actually asked me to… Oh, never mind. I just want to forget him. Cheers!”
The door opened, and Finn came in.
“Hi,” he said, seeing Gabs.
Alice introduced them.
“Hi, handsome.” Gabs grinned at him.
“Enjoy the book, did you?” Finn asked her.
“What book?”
“The reading club book.” Finn winked at Alice, who could cheerfully have killed him.
“Oh, that book!” said Gabs cheerily. “Loved it. Just couldn’t put it down.”
“What was it again?” Finn asked.
“War and Peace.” Gabs didn’t bat an eyelid. “You should try it sometime.”
“Finn, did you want something?” Alice asked.
“Nope. Just checking.”
“Well, that sounds like Kenny at the door.”
“Yeah.” Finn dragged his eyes away from Gabs, beneath whose tiny skirt there was a tantalising glimpse of suspender.
“You going to answer it?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, go on then.”
“Nice boy,” said Gabs when Finn had left the room.
“He has his moments,” Alice told her.
A moment later, Finn was back.
“It wasn’t Kenny,” he said, ushering Mavis into the room. “And this lady has brought her mother with her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Mavis said. “In the end, I couldn’t leave her on her own. She’s been getting up to things, and the friend who sometimes sits with her is busy.”
“I’ve come in a taxi,” said Maudie, beaming. She was bundled up in several layers. There was no sign of the plastic bag.
“Have you read War and Peace too?” Finn asked Maudie.
“Don’t mind if I do. Two sugars,” said Maudie, unwinding coats and scarves.
“I’ve turned down her hearing aid,” Mavis explained.
“Isn’t that a bit cruel?” asked Finn.
“Finn, will you please leave us now?” Alice said.
“Isn’t there anything I can fetch?” Finn looked longingly at Gabs.
“No, there isn’t. You can go and make up a camp bed for Kenny.”
“Right.”
“Off you go then.”
“Yeah. Okay.”
“Aren’t they just darling at that age?” said Gabs after Finn had left.
“No.” Alice had had enough of Finn for one evening, and she wasn’t sure that she trusted Gabs. She poured wine for Mavis and herself, and sat down.
“What about me?” Maudie said.
“Tea?” Alice asked her.
“I’ll have what you’re having.”
“Just give her a drop,” Mavis said. “Last time was a bit of a disaster.”
“And I’ll have some of those crisps. I’ve brought my teeth.” Maudie fumbled in the pocket of her cardigan. “Here they are.” She picked some bits of fluff off them and popped them in her mouth. “What’s on telly?”
“That’s an idea,” Mavis said. “If we sit her over in that corner by the television, she’ll be quite happy, and she won’t be able to hear what we’re saying.”
Alice had not been looking forward to this evening. She’d had a terrible few weeks, she was exhausted, and now she was going to have to spend another evening with Gabs and Mavis and Mavis’s mad mother. In addition to this, she’d lied to Finn, and Finn knew it. She would have liked nothing better than an early night with something soothing on the radio and a large glass of whisky, and instead, she was going to have to listen to tales of Mavis’s lover and the unsavoury antics of Gabs. She reflected that there were few things that made one less inclined to listen to the problems of other people than being preoccupied with one’s own. To her surprise, she burst into tears.
“Gosh. I’m sorry,” she said between sobs. “I don’t know what’s the matter with me.”
“Don’t you?” Gabs fished a large and very male-looking handkerchief out of the holdall and passed it to Alice. “Course you do. Come on, Alice. Tell us.”
So Alice told them. She told them about Angela’s baby, about her fears and Jay’s assurances, and her desperate insecurity. She even told them about Trot’s proposal.
“Bloody hell! You have had a time of it, haven’t you?” Gabs moved across to Alice and rubbed her back sympathetically.
Alice nodded. “And I wanted his baby. I wanted his baby,” she wept. “I wanted Jay’s baby!”
Jay’s baby? Where on earth had all that come from? Occasionally she had thought it might be nice to have a baby with Jay, but obviously she must have felt more strongly about it than she’d realised. It had always been an impossibility, and so she thought she had put it out of her mind.
“Of course you want his baby,” said Gabs, refilling Alice’s wine glass.
“How awful for you,” said Mavis.
“Yes. But it’s the waiting that’s the worst. The not knowing what it’ll be like, what it will do to Jay. Angela may have quite a long wait, but I feel I’ve been lumbered with one as well. Before, I imagined we’d just carry on as we always have. Not ideal, but manageable. This is quite different. This is unknown territory.”
“Clifford has children,” Mavis said, “but they’ve always been there, so they haven’t really affected us. If he’d had one after we’d started seeing each other, I don’t know what I’d have done.”
As Gabs and Mavis discussed her situation, Alice was soothed by their interest and their understanding, and she was glad she hadn’t call the evening off, as she’d been tempted to. She was also grateful that neither had suggested that she should end her relationship with Jay. It was the obvious solution — if it could be called such a thing — but already they knew her well enough to see that at the moment, it was not an option.
“And the proposal?” Mavis asked. “No chance there, I suppose?”
Alice shook her head. “Trot’s not marriage material. He’s a good father to Finn; well, a good friend, anyway. But no. It wouldn’t work. Besides, I don’t think he really meant it. He was feeling sorry for me, that’s all.”
“And you don’t love him.”
“There is that.”
They all laughed, and Alice found herself relaxing. The evening was going better than she had expected, despite her emotional outburst, and Maudie seemed happy enough in her corner, tutting over a makeover show in the course of which some poor woman appeared to be having her breasts rearranged. At least I have nice boobs, she thought. I should be grateful for small (if a B cup could be called small) mercies. She poured everyone another glass of wine.
Mavis hadn’t wanted to come this evening. The prospect of dressing her mother up and persuading her out into the night and into a taxi just so that she could spend an evening with people she hardly knew was not an appealing one, but a sense of duty had prevailed. Now, after a glass of wine and Alice’s outburst, she was feeling a great deal better. There was nothing quite so cheering as talking to someone who was worse off than yourself, and Mavis didn’t envy Alice one bit. Alice might be younger and more attractive than she was (Mavis had no illusions about her appearance) and she might have that rather nice-looking son, but she wouldn’t be in her shoes for anything. She had no idea whether Clifford and Dorothy still had a sex life and she didn’t want to know, but to have indisputable evidence that the sex life was not only ongoing but had, so to speak, borne fruit would be unbearable.
“You said Clifford had children,” Alice said. “Have you ever seen them?”
“A couple of times. The first was a long time ago. I did that hanging around the playground thing, trying to guess which ones they were.”
“And did you? Guess, I mean.”
“No. I asked another child which ones they were.”
“And?”
“They weren’t at all what I’d expected. I suppose I thought they’d look like Clifford, and they didn’t at all. One even had red hair.”
“How did you feel?” Gabs asked.
“Nothing. I felt nothing.”
It had taken three bus rides and an entire morning for Mavis to get to the school, and then she’d had to hang around until the children came out into the playground after lunch. It was pouring with rain by the time she got there, and she’d forgotten to bring an umbrella. She’d taken shelter under a tree, anxious that if the weather continued like this the children wouldn’t be allowed out at all, but fortunately the rain eventually stopped, and as soon as the bell rang, they poured out into the playground, laughing and shouting, dauntingly similar in their red and grey uniforms. She had spent some time watching them, trying to pick out two that might be Clifford’s.
What was she looking for? Even all those years ago, Clifford’s figure was moving comfortably from well-built but distinguished towards plump and balding. She could hardly have expected his two little girls to resemble him. And of course, they didn’t. When they were finally pointed out to her (one was with a friend, practising handstands; the other was standing on her own eating an apple), she waited to see how she’d feel, and was surprised when she found that she had no feelings about them at all. They were quite nice-looking little girls, but they could have belonged to anyone.
“I think I expected to feel related in some way. I know that sounds ridiculous, but because I was so close to Clifford, I expected to feel something for his children. It was a relief in a way when I didn’t. I had been so afraid that I’d — oh, I don’t know — that I’d want them.”
“And you didn’t,” said Gabs.
“No. I didn’t.”
“Did you speak to them?”
“I didn’t get the chance. A teacher came over and asked me what I wanted. I think she thought I was planning something sinister, and so I left.”
“How are things now?” Alice asked, and Mavis realised that it was her turn to speak.
“Up and down. We had a falling-out, and had no contact for nearly three weeks.”
“What was that about?” Gabs asked.
So Mavis told them.
“A hypochondriac,” mused Gabs. “I don’t think I could put up with that.”
“I’m not sure I can, either,” Mavis said. “But the trouble is that this time, he was right. He’s got angina.”
“Oh dear.”
“Yes. Actually, he seems rather pleased about it. He’s got this little puffer thing he uses and some pills to put under his tongue, and he’s making a bit of a meal of it.”
“You don’t sound very sympathetic.”
“That’s what Clifford says. But I think I’m running out of sympathy. The brain tumour and the cancer sort of drained me.”
“So?” Gabs asked.
“So we just carry on. I still love him — well, I think I do — but I refuse to worry. He’s got a good specialist. He and Dorothy can do the worrying.” Mavis realised that she sounded hard, but she’d had to toughen up recently, and the experience had been rather invigorating.
“What about sex?”
“We’ve done it once.”
“And?”
“He was fine, although he wanted… he insisted…”
“Yes?”
“He insisted that I should — be on top.” Mavis blushed. She’d never talked about this kind of thing before, and while she and Clifford had tried many positions in their time, it was not something she had ever imagined herself discussing with anyone else. Besides, this particular position was not one that showed her in a flattering light. Straddled across Clifford on Dennis’s bed in Dennis’s icy bedroom, she’d been too aware of his view of her dangling breasts and less-than-firm stomach to enjoy the experience.
“Not a bad position,” mused Gabs, the expert. “Although I could suggest —”
“No. No, thanks. On top is fine. For the moment.”
“And the French knickers?” Alice asked.
“I bought another pair. A kind of peace offering.”
“And did they go down well?” Gabs smirked.
“Yes, they did.” Mavis saw that Gabs had made some kind of joke, but was not sure what it was.
The more she saw of Gabs, the more aware Mavis was of her own naivety, and she felt oddly ashamed. She was probably old enough to be Gabs’ mother, and yet where matters of sex were concerned, Gabs could make her feel like a mere child. Gabs discussed sex with the ease of someone who assumed a similarly relaxed attitude on the part of her listener, and Mavis simply couldn’t do it. Sex had always been private, personal, secret. Otherwise, she reasoned to herself, what was the point? For Mavis, one of the great attractions of sex had always been its rudeness. It was a childish expression, she knew, and redolent of the games of doctors and nurses that her friends had played as children (Mavis had not been invited to join in), but one that best expressed how she felt. Of course, that was only part of it; there was the closeness and the reciprocity that accompanied the sex she had with Clifford. But she still privately delighted in (and wondered at) the fact that grown people with respectable lives and jobs and positions in society could do this incredibly rude thing without it seeming remotely abnormal. It could be because sex had never been a part of her everyday life; appointments had to be made, venues found, and limits placed on the amount of time she and Clifford could allow themselves to do it in. They had only twice enjoyed the luxury of actually sleeping together — sharing a bed for a whole night, waking together, breakfasting together — things that most couples took for granted. Sex had always been, as it were, taken out of context. Couples who lived together could presumably make love whenever they felt like it. She and Clifford had to do it when they could, which wasn’t necessarily the same thing at all.
Alice appeared to understand Mavis’s unease, for she turned to Gabs.
“Come on, Gabs. Your turn now. Tell us what you’ve been up to.”
“Okay.” Gabs took a sip of her wine. “Well, I’ve had a bloody few weeks. My favourite patient died, my boss at the agency’s being an absolute cow, and I’ve fallen in love with a priest. My sister is being all disapproving and holier than thou, and the priest isn’t having any of it.”
“Oh, not a priest!” Mavis said. “That’s — that’s awful!”
“Awful for who?” Gabs demanded.
“Well, just awful, I suppose.”
“More awful than shagging someone else’s husband?”
“Well, no. Yes. I don’t know. It just seems so — so extreme.”
“Who is he, Gabs?” Alice asked quickly.
Gabs explained about Father Augustine.
“Gosh. I remember him,” Alice said. “Dark. Good-looking. He sat in a corner at Father Cuthbert’s looking embarrassed. I felt quite sorry for him.”
“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” Gabs sounded proprietorial.
“There must be other gorgeous men around who are more available.”
“Oh, not you as well! I’ve had enough of all that from my sister. I thought you two at least would understand.”
“But I’ve never — I’d never dream of going after a priest,” Mavis said.
“You went after someone’s husband. Isn’t that worse? Father Augustine doesn’t belong to anyone else. And don’t say he belongs to the church because I’ve heard all that, too. He wouldn’t be hurting another human being.”
“I never went after Clifford,” Mavis said.
“Well, what, then?”
“We just — met. We weren’t looking for one another.”
“Well, I wasn’t looking for a priest.” Gabs refilled her glass. “You could say that we just met, as well.”
“It just doesn’t seem right,” Mavis said.
“Bloody hell, Mavis! None of us are doing what’s right, as you put it! That’s why we’re here, isn’t it?”
“Perhaps,” said Alice, “this is different because it’s happened after the Father Cuthbert meetings. Mavis and I had our — our lovers long before we all met. You’re planning a relationship and expecting us to give you our backing. Isn’t that it?”
“I suppose,” Gabs said. “But whatever you think about what I’m doing, there’s no one else I can talk to about it.”
“You say you’re in love, but do you really know him?” Alice persisted.
“I feel that I do.”
“Couldn’t you stop now, before…?”
“Before anyone gets hurt?” Gabs sighed. “Yeah, I could. We could all stop now, couldn’t we? But this feels like a chance. An opportunity. I really think I could make him happy.”
“Oh, Gabs! For heaven’s sake! How do you know he’s not happy already being — married to the church?” Alice seemed to be losing patience.
“He doesn’t look happy. He looks — lost, I suppose.”
“So you’ve no intention of giving up on this?”
“Nope. I can’t.”
“Of course you can,” said Mavis.
“No, Mavis, I can’t. You can’t give up your Clifford, and I —”
“Of course I could give Clifford up! But what we have suits both of us, and since Dorothy doesn’t know, no one gets hurt and nothing changes. If you succeed in seducing a priest, think of what he’s got to lose!”
“Ah, but think of what he’s got to gain,” said Gabs, who was feeling angry and unrepentant. She had been looking forward to being able to discuss her feelings about Father Augustine, and Mavis and Alice were turning out to be almost as prudish as Steph. “Hang on a minute —” she glanced round the room — “Mavis, where’s your mum?”
Everyone looked towards Maudie’s corner, but apart from some fragments of crisps, there was no sign of Maudie herself.
“She can’t have gone far,” Alice said as Mavis rushed into the hallway.
They searched all over the house, but there was no sign of Maudie.
“The back door’s open!” Alice called out. “She must have gone out that way.”
“Can she get into the street?” Mavis asked.
“I’m afraid she can. And it looks as though she has. The garden gate’s open, too.”
Alice called up the stairs. “Finn! Can you and Kenny come and help us? We seem to have lost Mavis’s mother.”
The two boys clattered down the stairs. They didn’t appear to be taking the exercise particularly seriously, but they could move fast, which would be a help. They dashed down the street in one direction, and Mavis and Alice went in the other. Gabs was asked to search the garden.
As she poked about among the bushes and investigated a rickety garden shed, Gabs had pangs of guilt. This emergency could well be her fault. Unbeknown to Mavis, she had topped up Maudie’s wine glass when no one else was looking, reasoning that the poor old soul didn’t have much fun in her life, and a little drop more couldn’t possibly do her any harm. Maudie had looked very settled and had even dozed off a couple of times. It had all seemed perfectly safe. How on earth had she managed to get up and leave the room without anyone noticing?
Gabs abandoned the garden, which was small and bore no traces of Maudie, and joined the others in the street.
“She can’t have just vanished,” Alice said.
“Oh yes, she can,” said Mavis grimly. “She does this sometimes. The doctor says it’s because she’s confused, but I sometimes think she does it just to keep me on my toes.”
They searched down side roads and alleyways; they went into gardens and knocked on front doors. No one had seen or heard Maudie.
“This is ridiculous,” Alice said after a fruitless twenty minutes. “She doesn’t move fast; she’s very conspicuous, especially at this time of night. Where on earth can she have got to?” She lifted the lid of a wheelie bin and peered inside. Gabs giggled. “Not funny, Gabs.”
“No. Sorry.” Gabs was cold and fed up, and her guilt was rising to a dangerous level. Should she confess about the wine or keep quiet? What if something awful had happened to Maudie, and it was all her fault? Gabs liked Maudie. She reckoned there was more going on under that neat grey perm than many people imagined, and guilt notwithstanding, she would be very sorry if the old lady were to meet with some kind of accident.
Just then, a police car drove slowly up the road and drew to a halt at the kerb. A policeman got out and put on his cap.
“Good evening. We’ve found a — a lady, wandering on her own. She doesn’t seem to know where’s she’s meant to be. I wonder whether you can help?”
“That’ll be Mother,” said Mavis. “Where is she?”
“She’s in the car. She appears to have been drinking.”
“Well, she’s not driving, is she? There’s no law against drinking in the privacy of your own home,” said Gabs.
“But she wasn’t at home, was she? And there is a law against being drunk and disorderly.”
“Drunk and disorderly?” Mavis repeated. “Surely not.”
“Yes, madam. She was sitting on the pavement singing a — singing an inappropriate song. She was causing offence to members of the public.”
“How many members of the public?” Gabs demanded, aware that members of the public at large in the streets on a Friday night were far more likely to be drunk than a harmless old woman.
“I don’t think that’s any of your concern. But a gentleman complained.”
“Where’s your sense of humour?” cried Gabs. “If I can get drunk and sing inappropriate songs at her age, I shall be very pleased.”
“We are not paid to have a sense of humour. We are paid to keep the streets free from crime.” The policeman looked Gabs up and down and sniffed. “Madam.”
“Oh, get a life, will you? You’re just —”
“Can I have my mother now, officer?” said Mavis quickly. “And I’m so sorry if she’s caused offence.”
“Mavis, you don’t have to creep to the police! This is ridiculous!”
“Gabs,” said Alice, “shut up, and help us get Maudie out of the car.”
Maudie appeared to be none the worse for her little expedition, although she was very cold and her clothes were streaked with dirt. She was still clutching an empty wine glass and appeared unaware of the trouble she’d caused.
“I’ve had such a lovely ride,” she said, holding on to Mavis’s arm. “And this young man has been so kind. But he didn’t like my song. Such a shame. It was one of your father’s favourites, dear.”
“I’m sure it wasn’t,” Mavis said. “Could someone give me a hand?”
Alice took the other side of Maudie, and together they half pushed, half pulled her back towards the house.
“‘Roll me over, in the clover, roll me —’”
“Shh, Mother. People don’t want to hear that. I think we should be going. I’ll phone for a taxi. We’ll go home, shall we, Mother? And you can have a nice cup of tea.”
“Don’t want tea. I want another little drop of… little drop of…”
“No more little drops for you tonight, Mother. You’ve had quite enough.”
Finn and Kenny appeared from round the corner.
“Ah, you’ve found her,” Finn said. Both boys seemed very entertained by the situation. “She’s drunk, isn’t she?”
“Of course she’s not,” said Mavis, puffing with exertion (Maudie was not light).
“What’s this?” Finn asked, picking up the yellow bag that was trailing in Maudie’s wake.
“Pee,” said Alice firmly. “Thank you, boys, for your help. You can go and —go and get on with whatever it is you were doing.”
Mavis blushed and quickly took the bag from Finn.
“Doesn’t that hurt?” Alice asked when the boys had gone back into the house.
“Doesn’t what hurt?” Mavis was busy securing the bag to Maudie’s person.
“The bag. When it drags along like that.”
“You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But she never seems to mind.”
“‘Roll me over, lay me down, and do it again!’” warbled Maudie, tripping on the kerb and nearly taking her two helpers down with her. The wine glass rolled into the gutter and shattered.
“Mother! Be quiet.”
“That’s what the young man said.”
“I don’t blame him.”
Gabs was feeling relieved on two counts. Maudie had been found and no harm done, so she could stop feeling guilty about the extra glass or two of wine. And the attention had shifted from her own doings, which weren’t being very well received. But she was also disappointed. She had hoped to have a sympathetic hearing from Alice, if not from Mavis, and instead they had both turned prim and disapproving, despite the fact that they were in no position to cast aspersions on Gabs’ doings. At least Steph was entitled to the moral high ground since that was more or less where she belonged. Mavis and Alice most certainly were not.
The little party broke up quickly since Mavis wanted to get Maudie home and it was getting late. Mavis and Gabs phoned for taxis, and a date was set for the next meeting.
But if Gabs had anything to do with it, there wouldn’t be a next meeting. Not for her, anyway. If she wanted to be lectured, it was cheaper and easier to stay at home and listen to Steph. Sitting glumly in the back of her taxi, ignoring the rather obvious chat-up lines of the driver (who, although he didn’t know it, almost certainly couldn’t afford her), Gabs dreamed of Father Augustine and planned her next move.
To hell with Alice and Mavis. Gabs had a life to lead.