Another Life Altogether: A Novel - By Elaine Beale Page 0,83
got sick of it. I miss the kids sometimes, but I can’t say I miss motormouth one bit. That’s what I used to call her, motormouth—and a few other things besides.”
I thought of those two children smiling proudly at the camera, and of how photographs never showed more than one captured moment—how, after that picture had been taken, the tide would inevitably have come in and washed away their sandcastle, and how, at the end of that day, they’d have changed out of their swimming costumes and been driven home by Frank. I thought about how they’d have sat behind bedroom walls listening to their parents argue, and I wondered if they’d been relieved when their father walked out on them, or if they still kept hoping that he would come back.
“In contrast to my ex,” Frank continued, “Mabel’s a bloody breath of fresh air. She’s more easygoing, knows how to have a laugh. And, like I said, she’s got a nice setup there on the estate and I could use a bit of home cooking.”
“Yes, well,” my father ventured, “Mabel’s always been quite an independent type, you know. I’m not sure she—”
“Oh, Mabel knows what’s good for her,” Frank interrupted. “When it comes down to it, every woman wants a man around the house.”
“No, they don’t,” I said, moving out of the shadows.
“Aye, well, you tell that to your husband, love,” Frank said, his voice half laugh, half growl. “When you get married—”
“I’m not getting married,” I interjected. “I’m not going to be the servant of some lazy man who can’t be bothered to do his own washing and cleaning.” I had no doubt, also, that while Frank might have aspirations to settle down and be waited on in Mabel’s little council house, she would send him on his way soon enough. As my mother said, Mabel went through men the way other women went through nylon stockings.
For a moment, Frank held my gaze, the slow burn of indignation in his eyes. “Got yourself quite a little firebrand here, don’t you, Mike? Sent out to spy on us by the women in the kitchen, were you?”
“Mabel told me to ask Frank for his lighter,” I explained, turning to my father.
“See, Mike,” Frank said, laughing. “Women, they always need a man for something.”
“YOU KNOW, IT’S LOVELY out here, it really is.”
I’d returned to the kitchen. After lighting her cigarette and taking a couple of long, hungry drags, Mabel stood by the window, looking out over my mother’s abandoned garden. In the churned-up soil, the thistles and other weeds had started to grow back, the bright yellow heads of dandelions peering through a thickening carpet of green.
“All them trees, all this nature,” Mabel continued. “And you could have a lovely garden out there if you get back to it, Ev. I mean, you’ve got so much space here. Me, I look outside and all I see is concrete and that eighty-year-old bloke across the street who likes to stand in his window in nothing but his Y-fronts. Bloody old pervert. Not a pretty sight, I’ll tell you that. But you, well, you’ve got it all here, haven’t you? You could get yourself out—maybe you could take your driving test again and …” Mabel frowned for a moment, apparently remembering the outcome of my mother’s last failed driving test. “Or maybe you could get yourself a bike,” she added brightly. “You know, cycle out on them lovely roads. Go into the village, do a bit of shopping. And let’s face it, Ev, you’ve got your work cut out for you here, haven’t you?” She gestured around the kitchen, still desperately in need of renovation. “I don’t see how you could possibly get bored.”
“Well, I am,” my mother said, dropping her teacup into the saucer with a clatter.
“Jesse’s not bored, are you, love?” Mabel said, gesturing me over to her with her cigarette. I walked to her side and she put an arm around my shoulder, pressing me into her soft, springy flesh.
“No, I like it,” I said.
“And did you make some friends?”
“Yes. I made a few. But my best friend is Tracey.”
“Oh, that’s that skinny lass that you brought over to my house, right?”
I nodded.
“See, Evelyn,” Mabel said. “If Jesse here can adjust, I’m sure you can.”
My mother sat back and folded her arms across her chest. “You know, I haven’t heard one word from our mother since she phoned you about getting married. Not one bloody word.”