Friday reading
Mothers and home thoughts challenge Deb in this week's chapter of Family Lines
Of course I did have to ask Rose to explain the Queen Lear thing. I know you’d have got it straight off, being the bookworm in the family. Mam might have got it too, I suppose, and spouted some quotes to prove it. Thinking of Mam, I do have some regrets about her not being around to meet Pearl. You must feel the same about your lads. Maybe it’s worse for you because you stayed and in the end got to know her better than I ever did, even if she was always on at you about being lazy and not making more of an effort with your appearance. I half-think she envied your confidence in not caring much about your looks. She was so obsessed with hers. She needed to put on that brittle mask before she stepped out the front door.
For all that she could be fun when we were little, when she let herself go and made up scenes for us to act out, or invented games and dressed us in mad costumes for Hallowe’en with stuff she borrowed from her drama group. I think it was when we got older and she saw that we weren’t going to need her for much longer that she became possessive and fearful. Remember all the rows about me wanting to stay out late? And the caniption she had that time she discovered I wasn’t staying over in Mirror’s house but had gone to Wexford with Fogo and the band? For a wonder Denis rowed in too, reading me the riot act about the worry I had caused and the risk I was taking.
Now I realise why she was in such a state. She was afraid I was going to make the mistake she made, when she got landed with me. I didn’t tell her this but the truth is me and Fogo didn’t fuck that much. We were usually too drunk or stoned. And, well, I suppose he didn’t really turn me on. He made me laugh and it was cool to be his mott but that was it really. Sometimes we all just rolled together, him and me and the other lads and their girlfriends or whoever happened to be hanging around after a gig. That was a lot more kicks!
According to Rose The Pricks got a warm-up gig at a festival here (yeah! unfuckingbelievable!!) and that he kinda hoped I’d show up there. Poor guy. I didn’t think he had it that bad for me. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he got the notion that he was the cause of me leaving. Only he wasn’t and if I had been up the duff I couldn’t have kept the baby. Not then. And I don’t mean I’d have given it away. Which, to be fair to Mam, she didn’t do. I’ll give her respect on that one. For a long time I didn’t get why when she brazened it out – she didn’t marry Denis till I was two – she didn’t just tell me the truth all along. I’m still not sure what got into her.
Mothers! I hope my child(ren) never end up calling me Queen Lear or worse. Rose said her mum and Mark lost patience with Granny Jen because she wanted to be entertained all the time. If she was at home she wanted everyone around her and if they refused to go out gadding with her she called them bores, forgetting that they had to work.
Granny Jen seemed exotic to Rose, and she said, spending time with her was better than hanging out with her three brothers. Granny Jen was arty or zany, wore colourful clothes and was forever going to exhibition openings, the theatre and concerts, making up for all those things she missed in Africa. And she was free at last from Rose’s tyrannical grandfather.
Sometimes she brought Rose with her to events and showed her off. Nothing pleased her more than people asking if they were mother and daughter. Enchanting, they would say on hearing the truth. They were happy companions until Heather nixed Rose’s outings and made her study for the Leaving. To fill the gap, Granny Jen looked around for what she called a ‘walker’, a handsome young male escort.
Her favourite, Rose said, was a chap called Anthony but she called him Antonio, and dressed him up in smart clothes. He was very good-looking and he seemed nice. At least he was kind to Granny Jen, although Mum said that was to ensure he got his name in the will.
In London ‘Antonio’ slept with Mark. Granny Jen didn’t mind as long as he was available to accompany her on shopping expeditions and to parties and so on.
He was having a ball, Rose laughed.
More than one, by the sounds of it, I laughed. So what happened when she died? Did he move in with Mark?
Nope. He up and vanished. Without a trace.
Oh. I couldn’t think of anything else to say because I had caught the note of challenge in Rose’s voice. She seemed to expect me to somehow answer for him, as if I knew where all the lost souls went. Or it might have been that she wanted me to see how strange it was for them not to know where he had got to and therefore appreciate how difficult it was for all of you. It was surprising because after all she had helped me escape.
Heather said he took the money and ran, she said, after we had walked a little further through the park behind Mark’s house.
Because we were side by side it was easy to avoid her eye. I glanced around, in search of distraction. Two old men walking plodding along the path parted to let us pass between them. A woman played with a baby on a rug on the grass. A few lads further off threw a frisbee between them.
Suddenly, a drift of strong soapy perfume caught my attention and I twisted around. There it was, the same climbing plant that had brightened the yard at the Mission, spreading over a trellis, tendrils beckoning. I paused to inhale the scent, shutting my eyes when I felt the sudden pressure of grief in my heart.
Are you ok? Rose asked.
Yes, fine, I said too quickly. Thinking of an old friend.
Do you need to sit down?
No. No. Let’s keep walking.
She slipped her arm through mine and we fell into step.
The scent of the plant seemed to follow us and, with it, the shadow of the vulnerable girl who had drawn comfort from its presence.
So are you coming home with me? Rose asked, tightening her grip on my arm a fraction.
I stopped dead, worked my arm free of hers and almost shrieked, Is that what this is about?
A small dog who had been sniffing the verge near us paused and twitched around, ears pricked, one forepaw raised.
Is what what what’s about? Rose swung around to face me, sheer puzzlement in her expression.
The everything. Being here. The rescue, the money for the ticket, staying with Uncle Mark to debrief, decompress, decondition, whatever you call it?
Deb, Deb, Deb, Rose shook her head as she repeated my name. Stop being so paranoid. No, ‘this’ is not about anything except trying to help you. The way I saw it you wanted, needed desperately to get out of that mission place before they got to you. I am not laying a trap for you. And neither is Mark, although I know you don’t trust him.
I do, I protested. I mean mostly I do. I’m just – I haven’t found my real dad and I won’t go home until I do. I pulled my head towards my chest with my hands. This is what the word home feels like to me, I mumbled. A lid crushing me down. Don’t make me go back yet.
It’s all right, Rose said gently and, reaching over me, peeled my hands away from my skull. Still holding them loosely, she widened her eyes to look straight into mine. I noticed for the first time that their feline green was flecked with amber. Listen to me girl, she said. I love you and I want to help you. I’m not asking you to love me in return. But please trust me and trust Mark. We’re on your side.
Ashamed of my silly outburst I drooped my head, unsure how to respond to Rose’s declaration of love. I do trust you, I said. Both of you.
Good, Rose smiled and returned to her chipper self. Let’s go and get coffee. And tonight I want you to meet some of my friends.
Cool, I smiled. I’d like that.
As we turned down a side path to exit the park I glanced back to where the scented plant – which I now know to have been jasmine – waved slightly on its trellis. The shadow of the lost girl receded into the mesh of its tendrils. Goodbye, I mouthed, pushing away a twinge of remorse.
Who are you talking to? Rose asked.
No one, I said. Only the little dog.
For there he sat, on the path, head alert, watching us walk away.
Don’t worry this isn’t going to turn into a talking dog story!! Let me know what you think of the latest developments in Deb’s life.