Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,79

in Australia, and there would be lovely weather in Sydney and how her mother and “that bloody Australian gigolo” would celebrate Christmas with a barbecue on the beach.

“Well, listen,” Mabel continued, the sound of her lighting a cigarette and taking a sighing drag audible over the telephone. “You tell Evelyn to get herself up and out of bed, because I’m coming over.”

“You are?” I was delighted. I’d been missing Mabel terribly, longing for her to stride in and brighten up our dull and ugly house. If anyone could talk my mother out of this bad patch, it was Mabel. “What time will you be here?” I asked.

“Oh, tell your mam and dad I’ll be there around one o’clock. And I’m bringing someone with me.”

“Who?”

“My new fella, Frank.”

“Frank?” I repeated, hoping this wasn’t the same Frank who had startled my mother in Mabel’s bathroom.

“Oh, don’t you worry now, Jesse,” Mabel said. “I’ll make sure he puts some clothes on before he comes along.”

When Mabel arrived that afternoon with Frank in tow, both my parents were a little surprised. I’d decided, after my mother’s disastrous first encounter with Frank, that perhaps it was best that I didn’t mention Mabel’s intention to bring him. That way, my mother might have a little more of a positive attitude toward her sister’s approaching visit and my father wouldn’t be left anxiously awaiting another social catastrophe in the making. The prospect of seeing her sister had miraculously propelled my mother out of bed. She’d even managed to take a bath, get dressed, do her hair, and put on some makeup. When she went to answer their knock, she looked as full of fearsome energy as she had when she’d been swinging that scythe around the garden to clear the weeds a couple of months before. As I watched her pull open the door with rediscovered vigor, I let myself hope that perhaps Mabel could inject some liveliness into her that would last beyond the brief few hours of this visit.

“Evelyn, this is Frank,” Mabel said, smiling cautiously at my mother. “Frank, this is Evelyn. I know the two of you have met before, but I thought a more formal introduction might be appropriate.”

Frank looked a little older than Mabel. He had jet-black hair, graying just slightly at the temples, and a craggy, narrow face with generous lips, dark bushy eyebrows, and a small, cherublike nose. It was an interesting combination of features that was not entirely unattractive. The same, however, could not be said of his clothing. He wore a pair of bottle-green polyester flares that were far too long, sagged over his thin hips, folded over his ankles, and almost hid his shiny Winklepicker shoes. He carried a matching jacket over his shoulder, and his big-collared, big-cuffed shirt, billowing across his insubstantial chest, was bright green satin. As he stood next to Mabel, shifting his weight from foot to foot, I wondered what he looked like when my mother stumbled upon him naked. All I could imagine, however, was a man in green underwear with the green, scrawny body of a stick insect.

Frank seemed to be doing his best to look apologetic in front of my mother, but I could tell from the glint in his gray eyes that he was thinking back on their first encounter with amusement. “Nice to meet you, Evelyn,” he said, and pushed a solid, wide hand toward my mother. He was holding a large paper-wrapped package.

My mother regarded Frank, then the package, frostily. “What’s that?” she said, narrowing her eyes and taking a couple of steps back, as if Frank were proffering a hand grenade.

“It’s a peace offering, like,” Frank replied.

“A peace offering?” My mother looked down the long, straight line of her nose at Frank and then at Mabel. “There a war going on around here that I don’t know about?” I could already tell that she was intent on directing her renewed energy in a furious belligerence toward Frank. She must have been storing up her anger ever since she stormed out of Mabel’s house.

Mabel smiled. “It’s to make up for that little … misunderstanding we had. I know the two of you got off on the wrong foot and I thought—”

“So, this is your idea, then?”

Mabel began rifling through her handbag. “No, Evelyn. It was Frank’s idea. He thought you’d appreciate a little gift, that’s all.” She retrieved a packet of cigarettes.

My mother frowned, thoughtful for a moment, and then extended her hand toward Frank. “Well,