Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,133
“We’re not disturbing you, are we, darling? We just stopped by on our way home. Frank took me for a drive up to the coast. We thought it’d be nice to get some sea air. We went to Reatton, had some fish-and-chips, and I had a few games of bingo while Frank played the one-armed bandits.”
“Lost a small fortune,” Frank said grimly.
“Oh, Frank, it wasn’t that bad,” Mabel said. “And we had a lovely walk by the cliffs afterward. Though, to tell you the truth, it was a bit of a shock to see them. I haven’t been there in years, and when I was a lass there must have been—oh, I don’t know—two, maybe three hundred yards more land there. There was a stable where they kept the donkeys, and there were quite a few houses overlooking the beach. It’s all gone now. Fallen into the sea.”
“East Yorkshire has the fastest-eroding coastline in Europe,” I said. “I learned that in geography at school.”
Frank rolled his eyes. “Quite a little mine of information, aren’t you?”
“She’s right, Frank,” Mabel said. “I remember hearing something like that when I was at school. And this lad we saw there today—he lives at the caravan site—he was telling me they lost more than thirty feet just last year.”
“He did?”
“Yes, poor little thing,” Mabel said. “He’s living in this caravan—well, more like a barrel on wheels, it is. And it’s not much more than a stone’s throw from the cliff edge. Said he doesn’t know when his dad’s going to get around to moving it.”
“I know him,” I said. “He’s in my year at school. His name’s Malcolm.”
“He seemed like a nice lad. Dead friendly. But you tell him, darling, the rate those cliffs are going, he needs to get his dad to move that caravan they’re living in. Either that or find a flipping decent place to live.” Mabel turned to make her way to the living room.
Frank followed her, and I walked after him. After a moment, he halted and turned, blocking my way. “Bit of a girly boy, isn’t he, that friend of yours?”
“He’s not my friend,” I said. Then, as I looked into Frank’s sneering face, I added, “But Mabel’s right, Malcolm’s a nice person. A lot bloody nicer than you.”
“OH, I’M GLAD YOU’RE HERE,” my mother said as Mabel made her way into the kitchen. “I was just going to phone you. I needed to ask you about the serviettes and the tablecloths. And I want you to take a look at the garden gnomes I’ve decided on.” My mother was sitting at the kitchen table, its surface covered with various catalogs, scraps of fabric, pieces of paper, and several half-drunk cups of tea. The room itself, which had gradually become the center of her wedding operations, was chaotic, with boxes of supplies stacked all over the floor and the counters cluttered with vases, serving plates, and half-finished sewing projects. “I think I like this one the best.” She pointed to glossy pages of the gardening-supply catalog and indicated a chubby plaster gnome in a red hat and a green jacket, a fishing rod in his hands. “What do you think?”
She had already transformed the back garden, planting various shrubs and bushes, laying down turf, and installing a pond and a fountain as her centerpiece. The garden gnomes would provide the finishing touch, and she’d spent the past several days going back and forth about which ones she should order.
“Oh, bleeming heck, Ev,” Mabel said, plunking herself down on one of the chairs next to my mother. “What do I care about flipping garden gnomes? They all look the same to me.” I sat beside her.
“But that’s just it, they don’t. There’s some of them that look downright bloody miserable, and you want cheerful ones for a wedding, don’t you?”
“Maybe Evelyn thinks they’re coming as guests,” Frank said, laughing.
He was lurking in the doorway, hands stuffed into his trouser pockets. “Right, Evelyn?”
I shot him an irate glare, wishing I could obliterate him with a look.
My mother ignored him. “Well, I suppose if neither of you is interested I’ll just get the ones I want.” She slammed the catalog closed. “But, like I said, I need to know about the serviettes and tablecloths you want. I’ve seen this lovely pink cotton that I think would look great.”
“Oh, God, Ev,” Mabel said, sinking into her chair and looking sapped. “I don’t know. I suppose it sounds all right to me.”