Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,128
You carry on like this,” Mabel said, gesturing toward my mother in her fox-fur coat, “and as sure as the sky is blue and the grass is green you’ll be back in the nick before Easter.”
“Sky’s gray today,” said Ted. “Matter of fact, sky’s mostly gray in England.”
“Yes, well gray, blue, or pink, you’ll not be seeing much of it if you don’t change your ways.”
“You should take the coat back, Uncle Ted,” I said. “What?” Ted looked at me incredulously.
“You should take it back. That way, you won’t get into trouble and you won’t go back to jail.” I wanted the fur coat out of the house. With its lavish softness and rippling folds, it obviously didn’t belong here. My mother didn’t look like a film star when she wore it; she looked absurd. And, as Ms. Hastings had said, nobody needed to wear dead animals. “You should take it back, Uncle Ted,” I repeated.
My mother, pulled from the rapture of stroking her coat, snapped, “Shut up, Jesse.”
“No,” Mabel said, “Jesse’s right. He should take that coat back. And if he had any decency about him he wouldn’t have brought it here in the first place.”
“Oh, come on, now, Mabel,” Frank said, reaching out to place his hand on Mabel’s arm. Until now, he’d sat silent, watching the discussion attentively. “The lad’s only just stepped in the door. Give him a break. There’s no harm done. And Evelyn looks lovely in her new coat. Ted’s right, she does look like a film star.” At this, my mother beamed appreciatively at Frank, then turned to Mabel to give her a satisfied little nod. “Besides,” Frank continued, “you haven’t even introduced the two of us.”
“I’m sorry, Frank, love. You’re right.” Mabel looked at Ted and pulled a taut smile. “Ted, this is my fella, Frank. Frank, this is my brother, Ted.”
Frank rose and made his way across the kitchen. “Very nice to meet you, Ted,” he said. I stood beside Ted as Frank extended his hand.
Ted put his cigarette in his mouth and reached out. “Thanks for calling the dogs off,” he said, shaking Frank’s hand enthusiastically.
“Anytime, Ted,” Frank said, slapping him gently on the back. “But you know what women are like. They worry too much.” He smiled at Mabel and gave her a wink. Then he lowered his voice and adopted a more confidential tone. “Don’t you worry about Mabel. I’m sure you know what you’re doing. That’s a bloody nice coat. Must be worth a fortune. Expect you need some good contacts to be able to acquire quality merchandise like that.”
As Frank spoke, my father pushed his way into the kitchen. “Bloody hell, Ted,” he said breathlessly. “What the heck have you got in them cases of yours? Lead weights?”
“No, it’s just my stuff,” Ted began to explain. “I’d been storing it over at my mate’s house and—”
“Oh, Mike,” Mabel said, “don’t say he’s got you lugging his flipping luggage around for him? Ted, you lazy bugger, you should be doing that yourself. I hope you don’t think you’re going to carry on like this, do you? Because the sooner you get yourself off your lazy backside and—”
“Oh, come on, love, give the lad a break,” Frank said. “He’s only just got home. And Mike doesn’t mind carrying Ted’s luggage in, do you, Mike?”
“Well,” my father said, dropping into one of the empty chairs at the kitchen table, “to be honest, it would have been nice if—”
“Let’s face it, you’ve got to help family out when they need you,” Frank interrupted. “Family is, after all, the most important thing we’ve got. Speaking of family,” Frank said, adopting a grandiose tone, “Mabel and I have got an announcement to make, haven’t we, Mabel?”
“Yes, yes we have.” Mabel patted her hair and beamed around the kitchen.
I realized then that what Frank had told me upstairs earlier was true. He and Mabel were getting married.
“What sort of announcement?” my mother asked, her eyes moving suspiciously between Mabel and Frank.
“Well—” Frank began, puffing out his scrawny chest.
“They’re getting married,” I said flatly. I felt a moment of intense satisfaction as Frank’s chest deflated and his face rumpled in annoyance. There was something immensely pleasurable about taking the wind out of his sails like that. Still, it didn’t change the fact that I’d have to put up with his poisonous presence on a long-term basis. One thing I did know for certain, though: I would never call him “Uncle Frank.”