Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,45

the chortling machine back and forth, churning up the heavy dark clay. By Friday, she had mapped out a plan and begun digging the fishpond, which she had decided, along with a fountain surrounded by fishing gnomes, would form the centerpiece of her new garden.

“I’m jiggered,” she said, walking into the kitchen and throwing herself into one of the chairs. “I’m taking this weekend off. I thought we’d get your dad to take us to see Mabel on Saturday. What do you think about that?”

I was delighted at the idea, but I’d already made arrangements to meet Tracey. “I can’t, I’m seeing my friend. Tracey.”

“That’s all right,” my mother said breezily. “You can bring her with you.”

Hoping to prevent Tracey wanting to visit our house or meet my family, I’d told her that my mother had a very serious case of shingles and it was absolutely imperative that she remain in isolation until she had fully recovered. I had also told Tracey that that could take a very long time.

“What time are you meeting her?” my mother asked.

“Who?”

“Your friend, this Tracey.”

“Oh, I don’t remember.”

“Well, that’s not much good, is it? I mean, how are you going to meet her if you don’t know what time you’re supposed to be there?”

I shrugged. “I’ll probably remember by tomorrow. I’m not meeting her until tomorrow.”

“Does she have a phone?” my mother asked, pushing herself out of her chair and making her way toward the hallway, where our telephone sat buried under a sheet my father had put over it to protect it from the paint he’d been applying to the walls.

“I don’t remember.” I followed her into the hallway, panicking.

“What do you mean, you don’t remember? What’s wrong with you, anyway?” She pulled out the telephone directory. “What’s her name?” she asked, leafing through the directory’s flimsy pages.

“Tracey.”

“Look, madam, don’t you get funny with me. You know full well I mean what’s her surname. Here am I trying to do you a favor and invite your friend to come out with us for the day and there you are acting like a big useless dollop. Now, you’d better get some sense into yourself soon, miss, or I’ll be giving you the back of my hand to think about. Am I making myself clear?”

“Yes.”

“Good. So what’s her name?”

“It’s all right, Mum,” I said. “I’ll phone her.”

“Oh, so now you remember her number, then? God, you’re as bad as your father. You’d forget your own head if it wasn’t screwed on.” She picked up the phone and thrust it toward me.

I had been hoping that she would leave me alone to make my call, allowing me to make up an excuse to Tracey for not being able to meet her and afterward to report that, sadly, Tracey was unable to join us. This, however, was not to be, and with my mother standing over me I found myself inviting Tracey to accompany us on a visit to my Auntie Mabel’s. Despite my best attempts to make this outing sound like the dullest way to spend an afternoon, Tracey eagerly accepted the invitation.

“IF WE’RE GOING TO Mabel’s, then we’re going to visit my dad,” my father said as my mother announced the news of our impending journey later that evening. He was slapping pale blue paint onto one of the hallway walls and my mother had to stand well back to avoid being spattered. His own face was already covered in tiny speckles of blue, making him look as if he had some kind of strange skin ailment.

“Oh, no, we’re not! I’m not spending one minute with that miserable old bugger.”

My mother usually refused to accompany my father when he visited my grandfather. For as long as I could remember, she had never liked him. And, from what I had witnessed of their limited interactions, it was obvious the feeling was mutual.

“Well, in that case I’m not driving you to see your Mabel.” He said this somewhat gleefully, apparently enjoying the power he had as the only one who could drive. My mother had tried to learn. Indeed, she had taken the driving test six times but had failed to pass. It wasn’t clear if she would try again, since the last time she took the examination, over two years ago now, she drove through a red light, narrowly missing an elderly pedestrian but managing to broadside a Mini before finally coming to a stop when the car she was driving hit a lamppost. The last