Authors: Josie Clay
‘XxSxx’
Adjusting my goggles, easing myself into the tepid, oblong jewel, only me disrupting its glass. Dunking my head, I pushed off, arms stretched ahead, one hand on the other, undulating like a mermaid before curling my arm in a languid arc. A length on the gas stored inside me, tumble turn and tilting, refuelled, taking in the clock. Being here not much of a risk, unlikely to be spotted. Dale was at work so I allowed myself a leisurely hundred and twenty, after which I sat in the steam room amid the satisfying tick of my legs.
Jet washed and buffed, I cycled home through Clissold Park where I spotted the inevitable kinky haired woman throwing a ball with a scoopy stick for a little black dog. I pictured us with coffee at the park cafe while I explained how her daughter had inveigled her way into my life and attached herself to me emotionally and how ...and how what? And how I felt responsible? And how it scared me? Nancy's incredulous face dissipated in the trees and I pedalled home.
‘Subject: Sick’
‘Naughty naughty! Someone is swinging the lead after all or perhaps you’re better. This makes me happy because it means you'll be back at work soon and we can resume our fascinating conversations. You know so much it's amazing! (I also love to hear your voice). I can honestly say I've never been so 'me' before in someone else's company, it's like I've known you all my life (oh yeah I have). I understand now time had to elapse so I could transform from a child into an adult and come to you as a woman. I also know that you feel the same way, I see it in your eyes. I've waited so long for you but I appreciate it must be a secret from Dale. That's why you don't reply in case she reads your emails. I expect you will delete this one, I can live with that. I trust you will know what to do.
‘All my love, Sasha x
‘PS. I know you have a birthday coming up ...I have something for you.’
Chapter 24
Dale burst through the front door in response to my quivery call and after reading the latest installment, paced the kitchen, quarter lover, quarter mother and half mad.
“Right” she said. “We're going to see Nancy right now”.
The Saab was there.
“Stay here” she said. “I'll see if she's in”.
Loping up the steps she drew back the knocker, the little black dog barking at the window. She ruffled her hair and planted her hands in her back pockets, a non-aggressive pose, her breasts rising and falling, she shifted her weight. My Dale.
The door drew open and my chest slammed in a corresponding gust. Nancy, smiling enquiringly, Dale talking and moving her right hand as if she were a man describing big tits. She gestured towards the car. Nancy ducked her head squinting and I looked to my hands in my lap, fearing I might be petrified literally as well as metaphorically. Nancy nodding, listening intently, a pinch of salt playing around her lips. Dale shrugged, ending the overture. Nancy spoke, looking to the car and then Dale's hand wound round and round, my heart contracting as I realised she was beckoning. Oh God, oh God, mechanically opening the door, keeping my eyes on my Blundstones, hyperventilating, walking a tightrope, strange dolphin clicks in my head telling me to run away, my body an awkward contraption. Looking up impassively, I climbed the steps, both extraordinary sets of eyes on me.
“Hi” said Nancy. “Please, come in”.
She closed the door behind us. “Yes, downstairs”, she motioned, me in front, Dale's hand on the small of my back. The familiar floor, turning the landing where
Nikolai had got stuck in the toilet and descending the stairs to the kitchen. The last time I'd done this, Sasha had been a little girl. The dog skittered madcap, immune to the gravity of the situation.
“Sebastian, bed” barked Nancy and he arranged himself tidily in a wicker basket. “Can I offer you coffee?” We both declined. “So” she said, filling the kettle, “please sit down. So Dale, it is Dale isn't it? Dale has explained how Sasha is being a bit of a pest”.
“Shit” I said, “we should have brought the laptop”, as if dismissing Nancy. I almost laughed and forgot why I was there. “Erm, sorry yes, er, well, I wouldn't say pest exactly” I flustered. Bafflingly a wisteria tickled the kitchen window. “It's more that she...”.
“It's more that we're concerned for her”. Dale, saving me.
“How so?” Nancy listening and busy doing stuff, like she did when I used to sit here on this stool, probably a habit she couldn't help now.
“Well” I said, “she claims she loves me and she thinks I feel the same way”.
“And have you done anything that could have led her to believe this is true?” Heating milk in the microwave.
My face flushed and she saw my indignation. “Sorry” she said, “I could have put that better. Is there anything which she could have misinterpreted?”
“Nancy, I've done nothing except give her encouragement and advice. She's subverting anything I do or say”.
“Yes, I understand” she nodded, taking it all in her stride, probably employing subtle calming techniques. I had an urge to upset her apple cart.
“You know she's got the locket, don't you?” That would do it. She sat, narrowing her eyes in recollection.
“How did she get her hands on that?”
I explained the lost and found story.
“She knew about us all along” I said. “She told me”.
“Yes, I thought she did, she was always talking about you, she was very fond of you”. Her eyes crinkled kindly, as if this was some fucking tête-à-tête over quiche.
“Yeah” said Dale, “and now she's too fond”.
“Look” I said. “She's a highly intelligent, focused girl. She's special and I don't want to hurt her, but frankly she's scaring me and I don't know what to do”.
“You must reject her” Nancy said.
My ‘phone beeped.
“That could be her” Dale said.
“She doesn't have my mobile”,pressing Read now. “Oh, my mistake, she does”.
'Hi Minette, I'll bring my folio tomorrow together with my present and we can celebrate your birthday. Can't wait S xx ;-) PS. I hope you like my new look.’
Passing the ‘phone to Dale, who handed it to Nancy. Her eyes swept across it, consigning the storm to a teacup.
“What new look?” said Dale.
“I have no idea” Nancy said. “I haven't seen her since yesterday morning”.
“Can't you talk to her?” I said.
“Text her back” Dale said. “Tell her you don't want her to come”.
“That won't put her off, she'll think it's you keeping us apart”.
“No” said Nancy, “allow her to come and reject her face to face”.
“I'm worried she might do something stupid. Despite everything, she's vulnerable”.
“Minette, I know my daughter”. She stood and moved her cup to the sink. “She'll get over it”.
I couldn't sleep, thinking about mothers and how they didn't have the monopoly on best practice.
Dale's sleeping form, her face moon silvered, like a stone effigy, a hand spanning my thigh, the heat from it intense, one of us sweating, probably me. She took a deep breath and licked her lips
.
I had to kiss them.
Breathing, “Minky, try and sleep”.
“I can't”.
She sighed, “turn over”, and fitted herself against me from chin to ankle, arms locked across my chest. “I'll tell you a story. Kan ya makan fi cadimi zaman” she purred, “al asri walawan”.
I yawned, wrapped in her total velvet.
Chapter 25
“Happy birthday, Minky”, placing a coffee.
I sat up, a large flat box on the duvet.
“How long have you been up?” I said, screwing my eyes.
“Ages, so long in fact that I fashioned this for you”, presenting an envelope. Utilising the label from a cat food tin, a collage on card resembling a good humoured ransom note.
'To my chicken who is the cat's Whiskas'. The fluffy, feline porn star in a pink heart.
“That's genius” I giggled, glancing at the alarm clock.
“Don't worry” she said, “it's only 7.15, she won't come yet”.
“It'll be sooner rather than later” I said. “She can't wait”.
“Try it on, try it on”, Dale clapping as I lifted the grey, wool pinstripe suit reverentially from the black box, Galliano in gold letters on the lid. Svelte and snug, I stepped into my boots.
“Fucking gorgeous” she said, “skitsnygg”.
As if bespoke, it cosseted and flattered. She smoothed my shoulders and the trousers rippled onto my Blundstones in rakish folds. “I'm so relieved it fits, do you like it, Mink?”
“Like it?”, admiring in the mirror the cut from the side. “I even fancy myself”.
The letterbox rattled and our eyes met ominous. We peered out the window at the benign bald spot of the postman. “I feel strong wearing this, Dale”.
“Well then you should wear it today baby, but use a napkin at breakfast”.
Opening my cards as the bacon sizzled. Dale inspecting a kitten sitting in a 'fuck me' stiletto shoe.
“Who are Jean and Bob?”
“M8's mum and dad”.
We ate my fanciful, white trash breakfast of eggs, bacon, Bird's Eye potato waffles, refried beans and maple syrup.
“Let's have some pop, Mink”.
“Do you think that's wise?”
“Come on” she said, “don't let her hold us hostage”, wringing the cork from the bottle but freezing mid-pour as the letterbox rattled. “OK, let's get this done” she said, handing me a glass. “Are you ready?”
Another impatient rattle. “Coming!” Dale shouted sweetly. Necking the bubbly, refilling my glass.
“Hi, you must be
Sasha, I'm Dale, pleased to meet you” from the hall.
“Hello Dale, where's the birthday girl?” projecting her voice.
“Oh do go through” Dale said, “don't mind me”. Sasha didn't, already in the kitchen.
“Ta-da!” she announced, flinging her arms out theatrically.
“Gosh” I said, “that is a new look”. Her squiggly hair bleached: a manic, black-eyed angel.
“Do you like it?”
“Er, yes” I said. Dale in the doorway, arms folded like a bouncer.
“Anyway” she said, “Happy Birthday”, ostentatiously planting a kiss on each cheek and staring into my eyes, willing telepathy, the chemical plum of alcohol on her breath. “Ooh, is that champagne? May I have some to toast your health?” Spilling it into Dale's glass.
“Have you had breakfast?” I said.
“Yes, Cheerios. Here's to Minette and all those who sail in her” she giggled, thinking herself frightfully funny.
Dale roused, “Would you like something else to eat, Sasha?”
“Oh no thank you” she said dismissively.
Dale caught my eye and did the wobbly glass hand in front of her mouth. Sasha took a glug
,
smacking her lips
.
“I'll get your present” she said, barging past Dale. The snicker of a zip and she returned. I peeled back the expensive Kath Kidston paper, a half memory emerging.