Friday Reading

Christmas brought mixed tidings for Deb in the latest instalment of Family Lines.

The wrecking ball came in the form of two surveyors wearing hard hats and tool belts, and carrying clipboards. They stomped through the squat in their big mucky boots (Daph always made us take off our shoes at the door) as if we weren’t there, dragging bits of furniture around to inspect the walls and leaning out the windows.

As they left one shouted back to me and Em, If I was you I’d be packing up sharpish.

Em flipped them the bird after they had exited. Turning to me she said, So, Deb, where next?

Good question, I shrugged. You?

Back to the Olds for Crimbo anyway. After that, I’m not sure.

Are you not coming to Greenham? My chest clenched hard, wanting - no, needing - to hear that all or most of our crew were going to the camp. That way the decision would be made for me. There was no way I was going alone but so far only Daph was certain about it, and the idea of it being just me and her had a lonely feel.

I don’t think so, Em gave me an apologetic smile. It’s not that I don’t agree with what those women are doing in principle, I’m just not sure how useful it is. Besides, my brother is in the RAF. So what would happen if he was stationed there and I was protesting outside the fence? She shrugged, and juggled the air with her empty hands, weighing the possibilities. And then there’s the small matter of money, she went on. We’d be living on handouts. That doesn’t appeal to me. I may seem like a coward or a middle class throwback but I like my work and I’m good at it. I could get promoted and save a bit for a place of my own. The usual humdrum dreams.

Nothing wrong with them, I suppose, I said, although I wanted to clamp my hands over my ears and scream No No No at Em’s vision, which threatened to suffocate me. And pushed me to make up my mind. I plan to go to Greenham with Daph, I said, only fully believing it when the words were said.

Good for you. It’ll be an experience at least. It’s not as if you’ve anything to lose right now.

I studied her expression for a moment, uncertain how to respond. She had such an air of sweetness that I couldn’t believe there was an edge to her comment. Or maybe the sweetness was too good to be true. I was learning protective wariness. Especially after the Mission ‘experience’. In the end I chose to dodge the dig if it was one and said, Daph thinks I’ll be able to get work in the local town. Meanwhile I’ll continue searching for my da.

I hope you find him. I’m very close to my dad. It’s a special relationship, she smiled, fathers and daughters.

Thanks, I said. For the moment though it’s a non-relationship. So here’s hoping. I held up both hands, with fingers crossed.

Em’s hands mirrored my gesture. Now, she said briskly, we’d best be packing.

Next day I was back at Uncle Mark’s house.

The Prodigal Daughter, he smiled when he saw me. Taking one of my bags he started up the stairs, saying, as he mounted the second flight, You’ll have to share with Rose and Ivy. My sister likes the booodoir you had last time. He showed me into a wide room with windows to the front and back. There were two beds, a double and a single. I’ll leave the sleeping arrangements to you, he winked and departed.

My heart fluttered with something between excitement and fear when I contemplated the beds. Rose’s family were due the following week, to spend Christmas. My choice of bed would be a statement to her. I sat first on the double bed, then on the single bed. Goldilocks trying them out for size. But it was more than that. I was still seeing PJ. Sort of. Filling in the time until he left for home and then Germany.

I stretched out on the double bed and tried to imagine Rose there beside me. I saw her fuzzy head, like a baby eagle’s, the tiny mole high on her right cheek, that she laughingly called her beauty spot, and the smile that crinkled up her nose and exposed a chipped tooth, reminder of a fall when she was twelve. All this I saw, and loved, only not in the way she hoped for.

I pictured PJ then and a wash of disappointment ran over me. Whatever we had shared was fading now, as he detached himself in preparation for departure. I had told him on our last date that I wouldn’t be travelling with him and felt his body sag with resignation.

Write to me, I said.

Yeah, he said, knowing that I knew he wouldn’t.

Rose’s family arrived in a gust of hailstones, laughing about the cabbie who had circled the block three times before depositing them at the door because he couldn’t see for the blizzard.

Hot whiskey, immediately, her mother, Esther, called out. Before I freeze to death.

Ivy darted through the hall chasing Phantom who, startled by the sudden noise and the cold, whisked down to the kitchen.

Rose hugged me, her icy cheek resting against mine for warmth.

Last one in was Tristan, Rose’s twin brother, carrying two large suitcases.

Here, let me help you with these, Mark shut the door and went to Tristan’s aid.

Oh don’t mind the bags, for God’s sake, Esther chided. Just get me a hot whiskey.

Right away ma’am, at your service ma’am, Mark tugged an imaginary forelock. Go on in, there’s a fire lighting in the drawing room. Deb and I have been busy preparing for you all day.

Good, Esther flung open the door of the drawing room and strode to the fireplace where she took up a central position raising the back of her wool skirt to toast her arse.

Deb, yes, she said, appraising me, when at last she had the whiskey in her hands. Taller than I expected. And fairer.

Mum, Rose rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Don’t start.

No, very well, I won’t. Esther moved from the hearth to one of the armchairs and sank into its chintz.

Once Esther had thawed out she calmed down. Rose explained afterwards that travelling always made her mother irritable. Accustomed to living in a world where there were people to do everything for her, she found having to lug her bags around and wait for cabs or buses an ‘awful fag’, not to mention the ‘ghastly hock’ they served on the plane.

Rose did a good impersonation of Esther yet deep down she loved her and was protective of her. Ivy was very sweet, a ‘happy afterthought’ in Esther’s words. Tristan was a mystery man. The complete opposite of Rose. Where she was chunky and wide open he was slight and bookish, with spiky hair and thick-rimmed glasses. He only ever wore polo neck sweaters and cords. Except when he went jogging. I was amazed to find him early one morning in the hall preparing to go out in shorts and a singlet.

Won’t you be cold? I asked him.

No, he shook his head. Once I start running I’ll warm up.

And then he was gone. I watched from the window for a few minutes as he pounded down the street and around the corner. The people he passed turned like me to watch him go. All of us sharing the one thought: bonkers.

Rose allowed herself a little pique when she saw that I had chosen the single bed. Her eyes searched mine for a moment and I responded with a fractional shake of my head.

Okay, Ivy, she said then. No kicking me in the middle of the night.

I’ll try not to, Ivy chirped.

Hmmm, we’ll see, Rose affected sternness. In the event it wasn’t Ivy she needed to worry about but Phantom who had taken to following Ivy around the house and onto the bed.

Christmas with their family was a cheerier affair than the one at the Mission where all we got was a slice of turkey, a slice of ham, greasy gravy, overcooked sprouts, soggy pudding and a cheap cracker. Not even a glass of sherry, the old-timers complained. It was better in the convent, they said. Silently, I raised a toast to them, and gave thanks that I was no longer there. And yes, Lucy-goose, I did think of you all, remembering Mam’s complete swither over the dinner when she was busy with her panto. And the chaos when we attempted to take over the cooking. I’ve never attempted it since - have you? Being vegetarian gets me right off that hook.

On Boxing Day, as they call Stephen’s Day, Mark summoned me to his study, directing me to close the door.

I perched on the chair, as on the night of our first serious conversation but this time he moved to sit behind his desk, settled his glasses on the bridge of his nose, and picked up a brown envelope.

I have some news for you, he said.

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Happy new year and welcome back to Family Lines. I’m excited to be continuing the story in 2025 and hope you continue to enjoy reading it.

Let me know your thoughts on the first chapter for this year.