Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,55

should get myself a pair? Now, that’d be a lark, staggering around in them!”

“You’d look like mutton dressed as lamb,” my mother said flatly.

Mabel said nothing. We sat in silence for a few moments, the only sound Tracey’s chewing. Finally, my father, who had been making a concentrated study of his feet for the past few minutes, shifted in his armchair. “Mind if I put the wrestling on, Mabel?” he asked.

“No, no, you go ahead, Mike,” she answered. “To tell you the truth, I don’t mind watching the wrestling myself. Don’t mind doing it every now and again, either,” she added, waggling her eyebrows. Tracey and I laughed along with her, but my mother, who was now busy glaring daggers over at my father, ignored her comments. “Oh, come on, Ev,” Mabel said. “Cheer up, for God’s sake. You look as miserable as sin. What have you been doing to her out there in the country, Mike?”

“What?” My father had already turned on the television and slumped back into his chair. He was staring intently at the screen, where a man wearing a black mask and built like a small tank was body slamming his opponent, a rather more slender gentleman dressed in Union Jack shorts. The crowd around the ring was booing and hissing frantically.

“Oh, never mind,” Mabel said, waving him away. Then to my mother, “Men, they’re all the same. Put them in front of a telly and they go into a trance. They’re like kids really, aren’t they? But at least it keeps them quiet for a while. Leaves us girls to have a conversation by ourselves, eh?” She beamed hopefully at my mother. “So, how are you keeping out there, then, Ev?” she asked, crushing her cigarette in one of the half-dozen ashtrays that ornamented the room. “Like it, do you?”

My mother shrugged. “Could be worse, I suppose.”

“Dad’s decorating the house and Mum’s doing the garden, aren’t you, Mum?” I said. “You should come out and visit us, Auntie Mabel. We could have you over for tea.”

“Ooh, I don’t know, darling. I’m not used to traveling that far. It was bad enough when they moved me out of my old house and onto this bloody estate. Felt like they’d sent me to the end of the world, it did. I’d be even more out of my element visiting you in the country. I’d probably go into shock seeing all them trees and fields.”

“It’s really not that far,” I said.

“We’ll see, love,” she answered. “We’ll see.” She paused for a moment, then her face lit up. “Oh, Ev, I almost forgot. I’ve got a right bit of news for you, I have. Actually, I suppose it’s more than a bit of news. This’ll knock your socks off, will this.”

“What?” my mother asked, frowning.

“Well, I only found out yesterday myself. And I was going to ring you, but I was on my way out when I got the news and then, well, as you probably guessed, I had a bit of a night on the town last night. So, what with one thing and another, it’s probably just as well you dropped round, because given the state of my head today I might’ve forgotten to ring you.”

“What?” my mother said impatiently. “What’s the news?”

“It’s Mam. She phoned me from Australia. She’s getting married! To that fella Bill she’s been hanging about with. Used to own a factory or something like that. According to Mam, he’s loaded with money. Hey, Evelyn, do you think he’ll pay our tickets over to Australia for the wedding?”

“Married? She’s getting married?”

“That’s what she said. They haven’t set a date yet. But they’re going to do it next year, in the summer, probably—which is their winter for some reason, though I have to say I’ve never been able to work that one out.”

“Why did she ring you?” my mother asked. “I mean, if she’s getting married, then the least she could do is tell both her daughters.”

“I don’t know, Ev. Maybe she didn’t have your new number.”

“I sent it to her. Wrote it plain as day for her in one of my letters.”

“It’s expensive to make those overseas calls, you know, Ev. And she did tell me to pass the good news on to you as soon as I could. It’s my fault I didn’t ring you yesterday. But, like I said, I was on my way out and I—”

“That’s not the point,” my mother interrupted. “She should have told me. She should have