Pandoras box, p.28
Pandora's Box, page 28
‘Shush!’ I put my finger to her lips. ‘It wasn’t your fault about the end of the dancing, you’re going to have to believe me. It was my fault. No one’s but mine.’
‘So you say, Rachel. You think I don’t see the whole truth, but neither, my dear sister, do you. Look, everyone has a blind spot.’ She’s struggling to speak coherently, making an effort to sit up straight in her chair. ‘Everyone has their weakness that they don’t see. It’s their fatal flaw, if you like.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘You, my darling. I’m talking about the bit you don’t see. You feel too responsible for everyone. You’re like Atlas, holding the whole world upon your shoulders,’ she laughs.
‘Well, do you want to know what yours is?’
‘What?’
‘You talk too much when you’re drunk.’
I turn away in frustration. If she wants her imaginary sins so much perhaps I should bloody well let her keep them?
‘Darling, that may be just about the only time when I’ve got anything to say that’s really worth listening to.’
Atlas holding up the world, she says; but of course I am Atlas. I know too much about who did what and why they did it. I know that it was my own nosiness and desperation, poking around inside Pandora’s box and revealing that letter to Dad, that split our family apart. I did my mum a disservice, too, I think now. Dad never even stayed with his mistress after all that. He went on and had another string of them, so Lily told me. He went away to the West Country, the last she heard of him, and slowly, with increasingly larger gaps between Christmas cards and birthdays remembered and then forgotten, he’d fizzled out of our lives.
I’d forgotten how it really was, and Lily doesn’t want to know the truth, but Pandora’s box has reminded me:
12 December 1978
I think, maybe, I have just seen my dad for the last time.
After we saw Lily, Dad and I went downstairs so he could have a smoke. We stood out there for ages and ages. I gave up holding the door open, thinking he might go back inside. I let it close to, and we left the bright hospital smell of antiseptic behind.
‘Don’t ask me,’ Dad said. ‘It’s over. I was never cut out for this happy families lark. Your mother knew it when she married me.’
‘I don’t understand,’ I told him.
He said, ‘I know.’
There was this huge silence in the air between us. I could hear a child crying in a corridor far away. I could hear the engine of a motorbike revving up around the corner, the angry noise of speed.
I had to try real hard not to cry after that because it wasn’t what he expected of me. I’m the strong, dependable one, he’s always said so. He’s expecting me to look after the others now—Ma and Lily—while he goes off and ‘makes his escape’, as he put it. I don’t want him to escape, though. And I don’t want to look after the others, either.
‘I have to know why you’re going,’ I said to him. Was it because of her, because of the ‘other woman’? Or was it something else? ‘Are you leaving because of the accident? Is it because it’s all over and we can’t dance any more?’ I grabbed hold of Dad’s arm while he peered out from under the shelter of the doorway. He kept shaking out his umbrella, preparing to go.
‘One day you’ll look back on this and know it was the most courageous thing your old dad ever did’, he said to me. ‘I’m not walking out on you, honey bunch. I’m freeing you. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind.’
I don’t feel as if he’s freed me, though. I feel as if I’ve suddenly got this huge weight on my shoulders.
I tugged as hard as I could on his arm but I knew that it was useless; I wasn’t going to get any nearer to him than any of those raindrops that would soon be running harmlessly down the sides of that huge black umbrella.
I watched my dad stride out across the car park. He went past the drab rows of chrysanthemums huddled in their flowerpots. I watched him as he turned purposefully left towards the taxi ranks and disappeared out of my life for good, leaving Lily and Ma for me to ‘look after for him’.
37
Rachel
Friday morning, 7 a.m.
When I wake up this Friday morning the mist is hanging over the beach like something out of an old black and white movie. There is a chill on the edge of the wind. Walking down to the beachfront at Summer Bay, nobody is about, and at 7 a.m., sitting on the damp sea wall with the muted sound of breaking waves behind me, I call up Annie-Jo’s number.
She’ll be in her fleecy white morning robe by now, I know, hustling some breakfast into her family, boiling up healthy eggs for them, organising pick-up rotas.
‘Hello?’ Her voice sounds early-morning cranky.
‘Annie-Jo, it’s me.’ I’m so relieved to hear her voice it’s pathetic. I want, oh I so desperately need, to be able to talk to her right now.
But she doesn’t seem to know who me is. Of course she doesn’t. Not any more.
‘It’s me, Rachel.’ Pause. ‘Shelley and Daniel’s mum.’
‘Oh, Rachel.’ It’s early, her reticence seems to imply; too early for a social call. And she’s busy.
‘Look, I’m sorry to call at this time, it’s just, those invitations you wanted…’
‘Oh, of course!’ She sounds relieved. ‘Oh, you’ve done them? That’s great. When can I pick them up?’
‘Not just yet, Annie-Jo. Um—is there any chance of extending the deadline?’
‘None at all,’ she says affirmatively. ‘It was a rush job, I agree. But we both knew that at the outset.’
‘Look, Annie-Jo, I’ve had to come away for a few days, though, that’s the thing. I just wondered how long before you need them?’ I’m thinking fast now. I’m thinking that I still need someone to pick up Daniel from scout camp because I won’t be there to do it. And what if Bill—my first port of call—can’t, or he decides to be difficult about it when he learns where I am? I needed to come clean with a lot of people sooner than this, I know. I meant to phone Bill yesterday, but all those things that Shelley said, they knocked me for six; I forgot what I was meant to be doing.
‘Rachel,’ there’s a distinct chill coming down the phone right now, ‘are you telling me that you won’t have them ready in time? I went out on a limb to recommend you to the committee.’
‘Oh no, I’m doing it today. It’s just…I’ve rung you about something else altogether, actually.’ I move along the wall, a bit further away from the bin. There’s a tramp rummaging in among the refuse now and I don’t want him talking to me.
‘Thank goodness for that. I’m going to be taking my shower in a few minutes, Rachel, Michelle’s got a recital on at the end of term so it’s extra lessons on the clarinet over the hols—so could we be quick?’
‘It’s about Danny. When you pick up Josh from scout camp tomorrow, could you pick up Danny too? In fact, it would help me enormously if he could sleep over at yours tomorrow night.’
‘What’s going on?’ she asks suspiciously now. ‘Why can’t you do it? Is there a problem with Shelley?’
‘I’m sitting on the beachfront at Summer Bay in Trefolgew, Cornwall. I’m giving Shelley the birthday present that she asked me for—which was to come down here—but which Bill and I couldn’t agree on, Annie-Jo, so I can’t ask Bill.’
‘Let’s get this straight. Michelle, darling, you still haven’t put that clarinet back in its case and you’re going to need it today—sorry—where were we? I’ve been up all night puking,’ she confides now. ‘Rachel, you’re telling me you’re in Cornwall and Bill doesn’t know you’re there so he can’t pick up Daniel?’
‘No, he doesn’t. You were up all night puking?’ I say. ‘Does that mean congratulations are in order?’
‘Thanks,’ she says shortly. ‘But look,’ there’s a moment’s hesitation, ‘this doesn’t sound at all like you, Rachel.’
It doesn’t sound like the Rachel you used to know, I think now. She’s right. But then Annie-Jo’s not the same any more either, is she?
‘Can you pick Danny up for me?’ A boy with dark rings under his eyes staggers off the beachfront now. He’s heading for the café across the road. He can’t be any older than Shelley, I realise, and yet he’s been up all night, boozing.
‘Is everything…okay?’ I note the change in her tone to one of concern. ‘ I said put that clarinet away Michelle!’ The receiver is covered for a moment; the sounds at her end go muffled. When she comes back I can no longer hear the radio playing in the background.
‘I’m having a bit of a hard time of it,’ I admit, ‘but this probably isn’t the right time.’
‘Rachel, we’ve been friends for a long while, haven’t we? I have to be honest. I’m not sure that I’m comfortable going behind Bill’s back like this.’
I take in a deep breath. I need her to help me now. I need her to know how bad things are, even if this isn’t a good time to launch into this.
‘Annie-Jo, Bill doesn’t know we’re here. But Bill couldn’t see how important this trip was for Shelley. I could.’ On the other hand, maybe I couldn’t, I think now. Shelley tricked me, didn’t she? It was important, but not for the reasons she led me to believe. ‘Shelley…Shelley’s in a bad way at the moment, Annie-Jo.’
‘Oh my god, Rachel!’ Her voice rises in pitch. ‘Do you mean…?’
‘No, no. It’s not that. It’s something else. It’s a sort of…depression, I guess.’
‘That’s only natural.’
‘Yes, but she’s…’ my voice drops to a whisper, ‘she’s threatening to take her own life.’
‘Oh, Rachel.’ That shock again. ‘That’s terrible. Get her some help. Straight away. And Bill must be told.’
‘No! I don’t want to escalate this. I want to de-escalate. Bill will only make things a thousand times worse.’
‘But there was a girl in Michelle’s class—Shelley might know her—Rowan, she’s called—anyway, she had a tiff with her boyfriend, and they found her last week, about to slit her wrists, it was a terrible business, she’s had to have time off school for counselling and whatnot…’
A girl called Rowan had a tiff with her boyfriend? She needed to have time off school for counselling? What the hell is Annie-Jo on about?
And then it hits me. She doesn’t understand. Of course she doesn’t understand. How could she? Would I, if the boot were on the other foot?
‘It’s okay,’ I tell her wearily. ‘Really I’m dealing with it, Annie-Jo. I just need a bit of support at your end. Will you pick Danny up for me?’
‘Well, if I pick up Danny, knowing full well that Bill hasn’t been informed, then it means I’m colluding with you, doesn’t it?’
‘But he doesn’t have to know that you know.’
‘It’s still collusion, Rachel, and I’m not comfortable with it.’
‘So you won’t pick Danny up? You’ve got to pick Josh up anyway. And Danny’s always over at yours. Come on, Annie-Jo!’
‘I’ll have to give this some thought, okay? Give me your number again. I’ll ring you back later.’
I swallow, hard.
‘Look, just stuff it,’ I tell her. When had Annie-Jo become so sanctimonious? Suddenly I don’t feel so duty-bound to do her calligraphy work any more. What just happened there? I’m furious with her, but I’m still gutted and that’s the truth. I feel cheated somehow, bereft of somebody who used to be my friend. She’s pregnant and she didn’t even tell me. What’s more, I don’t think I even really care. I press the ‘end call’ button.
I punch in Solly’s number now, praying that he’ll pick up. Solly never picks up. He is permanently unavailable.
‘Hel-lo,’ he purrs into his cell phone.
‘Oh, Solly, thank god!’ If I hadn’t thought he might still be in France I’d have rung him first. He already knows I’m here, for one thing.
‘How’s my girl? Enjoying the beach, darling?’ He recognises my voice, too; oh joy!
‘I’m good.’ I shuffle off the cold stone wall. The little jaggedy edges are beginning to dig into my bottom and my legs. The mist feels like a wet breeze on my face. I lick my lips. ‘Though it’s not exactly sunny here.’
‘And how is the birthday girl doing?’
‘Huh! Do you really want to know?’
‘Darling, I’m stuck in bed with the flu. I’m bored. Tell all, do. Oh, thanks, darling.’
Thanks? He doesn’t mean me, I realise.
‘You’re back together, then?’ His trip to Paris must have been a success, I think.
‘Oh yes, we’re back together,’ he sighs.
‘At least Justin can look after you while you’re ill.’
‘Justin!’ he snorts. ‘Justin wouldn’t come near me with a barge pole right now. The boy’s such a terrible hypochondriac. He doesn’t do germs. Oh yes, I found him in Paris all right. That other bastard left him on the Champs Élysées without a sou after they had a tiff, would you believe? Lucky for Justin that I was hot on his trail, wasn’t it?’
‘So you rescued him,’ I say. And now he won’t even hand you a tissue for the flu you’ve got.
‘Well, I sort of rescued him. I was going to rescue him but then I discovered my credit card was missing and we were just about to call the police when who should I spot crossing the road just ahead of us?’
‘Who?’ Sacha Distel, I think. Catherine Deneuve. Jacques Chirac. I run out of well-known French names. ‘Who did you see?’
He sighs, and I get a flash of what it must be like to live life as Solly. Here, sitting on this drab stone wall on this wet, grey morning by the deserted beach, I get a whiff of the scent of café au lait drunk at the elegant table of some pavement café along the boulevards of Paris; an accordion plays some melancholy song from the war years as Solly meets up at last with his wayward lover and then…some swanky French rock singer/actress/politician walks by. What a hard time he has of it.
‘Adam,’ he says. ‘He’d come to Paris after me.’
‘You’ve split up,’ I remind Solly. ‘Isn’t that a little bit like stalking?’
‘Not at all, darling! He’d brought me my credit card, hadn’t he? I left it on the desk back at the shop. He works alternate days with me now, as you know. Anyway, he saw it and realised I’d get into a bit of a pickle without it.’ He chuckles. I hear Adam chuckling in the background along with him.
‘Oh, so it’s you and Adam who are back together, not…’
‘Precisely I’ve been doing some rearranging of my priorities recently, Rachel. I’ve decided that Adam is…’ his voice wobbles a bit here, ‘Adam is the man I want to grow old with.’ Solly clears his throat. I imagine him wiping away a sentimental tear. ‘But apart from Adam—and Mrs Simmonds yesterday morning, of course—I haven’t spoken to a soul. So tell me all your news, pray do.’
‘Mrs Simmonds? What did she want with you?’
‘Um, she couldn’t find the reptile, apparently. She seems to think it’s…no longer in her garden. I told her it was probably just hidden, you know. Like they do.’
‘She’s lost Hattie?’ I can’t afford to have minor domestic crises now. I grimace at the grey skies above me. I really want God to hear this: Don’t send any more crap my way until I’ve sorted out the major mess I’m currently in, okay?
‘No, no. I’m sure she’s not lost. She just can’t find it, that’s all. It’ll be there. She brought me up some rather dreadful chicken soup when she heard I was ill, too. Bless her.’
Chicken soup. Hattie’s missing.
Focus, Rachel.
Solly is stuck in bed with the flu so he won’t be able to pick Danny up for me. It’s going to have to be Bill after all, isn’t it? The one person I didn’t want to have to ring and ask, damn it!
‘But never mind all that. Are you two having a good time?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I tell him carefully. ‘Actually I’m…I’m a little perplexed, to be honest. It turns out Shelley had a totally different agenda than what you and I thought she had.’
‘She’s meeting a lad down there, is she?’ Solly sounds excited. I can hear him plumping up cushions, making himself comfy in anticipation of my sordid revelations.
‘No!’
‘Oh.’ He sounds disappointed. Why on earth would he think that Shelley had a boyfriend down here? Here, of all places? ‘Fire away then,’ he orders.
‘She tells me she came down here with the intention of ending it all, Solly. She wants me to help her go off a cliff! Can you believe it?’ I lower my voice as a dog-walking couple pass by and look back at me, wide-eyed. Christ, I never saw them coming.
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, darling!’
‘You don’t think she means it, do you?’
‘It’s hardly likely. But I’d still be inclined to treat this as a call for help.’
‘That’s just it. The only help she wants is for getting up the cliff. It’s crazy!’
‘She’s one determined young lady, isn’t she?’
‘You think I should be worried, Sol?’
There is a pause at the other end.
‘If she’s threatening stuff like that you can’t ignore her. But on the other hand…can she do it by herself?’
‘Solly, she’s asked me to help her!’
‘Oh that’s rich.’ He seems to find this pathetically amusing in that dark way that he has. ‘I don’t suppose there’s too much to worry about then. Why don’t you just bring her home, Rach?’
Because we came here for her birthday. Because we planned to leave on Sunday, and she’s got stuff she wants to do here, and so do I. Because I don’t believe she really means it. Oh, I don’t know why!
You feel so far away, Solly, I think now. I need to see the reassurance in your twinkling brown eyes. I need to feel your arms around me giving me a hug, because it’s all too much, it really is. And everyone is just so far away. When I look along the length of the cold sea wall, everyone has gone: the dog-walking couple and the tramp who was digging around in the bin and the young lad who went by before with the dark, sleep-deprived eyes, they’ve all gone. Today I feel so very alone. Maybe we should just go home?
