Diary of a Provincial Lesbian (18 page)

‘How are you getting on at Russell’s?’ she asks.

‘Very well,’ I reply briskly and hurry out. Don’t want Miriam’s mother telling Miriam where I’m working or what I’m doing. Don’t know why or do know why. Am ashamed.

July 17
^th

Ridiculous phone call from Deirdre. She and Lord Dudley want to go into show biz. Approach this statement with caution as in the past Deirdre has accused me of not taking her seriously.

‘What does Martin think?’ I ask.

‘It’s nothing to do with Martin; Lord Dudley’s my friend not his.’

Cannot imagine what Lord Dudley could do in show biz as his main claim to individuality is that he’s always in a tearing hurry and treats seated visitors’ stomachs as trampolines.

‘So how will you go about getting into show biz?’

Deirdre laughs, a tinkling sound. I can imagine her bobbing blond curls. ‘Lord Dudley will be the big star, I’ll just be his manager.’

‘But what will he be doing?’

‘He’ll start with walk-on parts. He’s very good at walking on.’

‘Doesn’t he more run on?’

‘Run, walk - whatever cats are required to do,’ she says irritably. ‘I’m going to get our cleaner to make him a little jacket and a cap.’

‘A cap?’ I squeak.

‘Yes a cap. With a feather. In midnight blue velvet.’

‘Crikey.’

‘Wherefore “Crikey”? Obviously he’ll need a stage costume.’

‘You’ll have to get him used to it.’

‘Yes?! I’m not a complete fool.’

‘Of course not. That’s not what I mean. I was trying to make supportive small talk.’

‘Thank you. But in this instance I don’t need supportive small talk  however if you’re not too busy with whatever you do that requires you to go out at the crack of dawn Monday to Saturday I would like you to write a couple of short scenes, seeing as you’ve got O Level English Language. Martin said if they’re any good he’ll video them as part of Lord Dudley’s CV.’

July 18
^th

Relationship with Lorraine Carter reaches new low. Have been accused of abusing my bucket. In fact I’ve actually broken my bucket which Noreen says is unheard of at Russell’s. A bucket should last a lifetime. Noreen is impressed. Ms Carter icily angry. Refuses to accept it was just an accident.

Incident occurred as follows: washed mop head in Ladies’ lavatory sink. Had brainwave that instead of leaving mop head soaking wet I’d shake it out of the window. Window very high. Could stand on toilet but no lid or seat so would be standing on the porcelain rim which struck me as dangerous and also unsavoury. Emptied bucket and upended it - stood on bucket. Waved mop head out of window. Mop head flew off wooden mop handle and disappeared. Leaned as far forward out of window as I could - no sign of mop head. Then jumped and looked. Came down hard and split the bucket.

Horrific scenes. It’s as if the bucket is a person and I’ve killed them. Have even offered to replace bucket but that is not good enough. Ms Carter wants blood. NB. Wet mop head fell on windscreen of her car as she was in the process of parking. Says major accident could have happened. Says I have a frivolous attitude.

July 20
^th

Begin writing scene for Lord Dudley. Realise it is a complete waste of time but rather enjoy it. Also find myself writing scene for Tilly, who sits on the arm of the chair not quite asleep.

‘In your heyday Tilly you’d have acted Lord Dudley off the stage.’

July 21
^st

Ring Janice. Start talking too early as take the answerphone voice to be Janice herself. Think all she’ll get by way of message are the words, ‘...you in weeks. Best Margaret.’
 

This evening read
Listening Ear
. Letter page very dull. People wanting to meet up again with people they’d met in the war, two correspondents writing to congratulate the council on the new parking bays outside the library. Decided to resubmit my article re. joy riders in Marks and Spencer
.
Added inflammatory paragraph for likes of Deirdre’s Martin enthusing over the smoke-free zone that is now the Corner Coffee Shop
.

July 24
^th

Deirdre drops me outside Nic and Simone’s house. They have a large hedge of rhododendrons concealing the front garden and house, which disappoints Deirdre who likes to check out who has a larger/grander house than she has.

‘Will they mind if I ask to use their loo?’ she asks.

‘Yes. You’d hate a stranger asking to use your loo. It’s just an excuse to snoop.’

‘I’m not a stranger. They met me at your house.’

‘You haven’t been invited this evening.’

‘But I want to see inside. What about if I shepherd you up the front path. Looks like it might be pretty steep.’

‘I’m not an invalid.’

‘You could pretend you were. That you’ve developed some spinal weakness.’

‘No Deirdre. Thank you for bringing me now go home.’

‘I wanted to say hello to Laura and give Iris the once over.’

‘Well you can’t.’

I get out of the car clutching my bottle of wine.

Deirdre leans out of her window, ‘Shall I collect you about eleven?’

‘No.’

Laura meets me at the front door.

‘Is Iris with you?’ I immediately ask.

‘No, she’s dancing.’

‘Where?’

‘The London Palladium.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

Laura grins. ‘Well everyone else does so trap shut.’

Follow Laura through hall, sitting room, French doors onto patio. Can hear Nic’s voice coming from the side of the house saying, ‘York stone, pea gravel and grasses - sort of Derek Jarman look only no expense spared. The clematis folly was the clincher - they’d never seen anything like it. Gobsmacked...’

Simone lies on a rose-patterned sun lounger. Between her toes is a pair of turquoise plastic toe dividers. She wears matching sarong.

‘Love kisses,’ she shouts. ‘Can’t get up. My Raspberry Sorbet not dry yet.’

Nic appears, leading a party of four women. Nic wearing thorn-proof trousers and a khaki shirt with epaulettes. She looks as if she’s emerging from the African interior,
this way chaps, better bivouac out in the open tonight
.

Introductions: Sonia and Sammy, a Tess and a Maggie. Thinks; Maggie looks exactly like a Maggie should look; tussled wavy hair, hazel eyes, warm uncomplicated smile. Thinks some more; I look exactly like a Margaret does look; ramrod straight back and desire-to-please face. Experience unwelcome memory of Georgie’s damning
with you everything’s either a joke...or a whimper
, and resolve to be normal for once in my life.

Nic takes me by the elbow and leads me back into the sitting room. We stop in front of the fireplace. ‘What do you think? Pretty bloody marvellous?’

Above the fireplace, in a dark wood frame, hangs the Golden Trowel inscribed to
N. Meredith, Bittlesea Bay in Bloom, 2004. First place, Contemporary Garden Category
. Along the bottom of the frame Nic has had inscribed,
Determination, Perspiration, Exultation!

‘Get it?’

‘Fabulous Nic.’

‘Follow the leader Margaret - I’ll give you a hand with yours next summer.’

Thank Nic profusely. Nic takes Golden Trowel from wall and I study it from all angles. Am convincingly amazed, enthralled, inspired and much more.

Laura comes in and says, ‘Blimey, what’s that worth? Is it hallmarked? Can I have a butcher’s?’

Nic hurriedly replaces Trowel on wall saying, ‘I think the barbecue should be about hot enough to start cooking.’ Leads us out.

Laura winks at me. I wink back.

Enjoy watching Laura weave and dive as only she can do. One minute she’s playfully annoying Nic with crass comment on alternative use for goujons of plaice, next tweaking Simone’s big toe, and on to regaling couples with funny dance-orientated story about herself and Iris at a ball in Eastbourne.

‘We went as Andy Pandy and Looby Loo.’

Everyone laughs, although later overhear Maggie asking Tess, ‘Who are Andy Pandy and Looby Loo?’

‘Didn’t they win the Eurovision Song contest a few years back?’

Simone particularly and surprisingly empathetic. Has Nic move her sun bed next to my chair and says, ‘Whatever glib guff I came out with on the beach I do know how hellish it must be for you. If me and Nic split up I’d be devastated. Wiped away. So sorry.’

An hour passes pleasantly. I talk to Maggie who is also a keen gardener. We discuss at length the possibility of a hosepipe ban along the south coast. Maggie seems to have insider information regarding the depth of water in our reservoirs and it is not enough. We need several inches of rain or one in five people to stop taking baths for at least a year for reservoirs to reach their required levels. I am feeling we have exhausted this subject but no, Maggie has more to say about the water saving methods of our friends in the Netherlands. As I nod and say
Good gracious
for the tenth time the side gate swings open. A woman climbs up the stone steps to the patio. She wears a dark trouser suit and a pink shirt. Blue black hair. Pale face. My mouth drops open.

‘Hello you,’ Nic shouts and hurries towards her.

‘Never mind
hello you
, I’ve been ringing your front door bell for at least ten minutes,’ the woman says crossly. Her voice has a brittle but not unattractive quality. I know that voice well. It has rung in my head for weeks. This very morning it beat out the refrain
Margaret, chewing gum. Can you see it? Yes I know it’s black, it’s still CHEWING GUM!
Lorraine Carter. I was horrified. I hadn’t told a soul, not even Laura, about the cleaning job. Cleaning job represented yet another step down the ladder of success; no partner, no money. No house? No friends?

Nic had reached me in the introduction line-up, ‘And this is our friend Margaret. Lorraine - Margaret.’

‘Nice to meet you,’ I say, looking Lorraine straight in the left ear.

‘Well hello, Margaret.’ Her steely eyes narrow.

‘Lorraine’s the manager at Russell’s. She gets us a staff discount on our garden furniture. Might give you one if you play your cards right.’

I smile weakly. Lorraine smiles thinly. Laura pops up in between us.

‘I’m Laura,’ she says. ‘Is it some sort of kismet that our names are so very similar? Blimey!’ Laura’s head is exactly level with Lorraine’s cleavage. Amazingly, Lorraine throws back her head and roars with laughter.

Lorraine very much takes to Laura. Apparently they share a mutual passion for golf, which is news to me re. Laura. Hear Laura say wistfully, ‘Unfortunately Iris, my better half resents the time I spend out on the links.’

Try to recall one instance of Laura out on a link during our twenty-year friendship. Fail.

July 26
^th

Laura and I set off for Laura’s mother’s flat in Ealing. It is her mother’s birthday. Laura has a terrible hangover and is driving carefully as she feels her blood is made up of one part blood and nine parts alcohol.

Decide to come clean re. my cleaning job. Try a Tom Matthews, ‘Laura I want to tell you something that nobody in the whole world knows about me...’

‘Not now Margaret, I’ve got a splitting headache.’

Say, ‘Since when did you start playing golf?’

‘Please Margaret. My head. Have you no sensitivity?’

Laura’s mother is still in her dressing gown. She makes Laura a bacon sandwich as Laura says bacon is the best remedy for hangovers. Also mugs of strong tea. It is now early afternoon and we watch an old
Columbo
on TV with guest star Jack Cassidy as the murderer.

‘David Cassidy’s dad,’ Laura observes. ‘What series was David Cassidy in?’

‘Partridge Family,’ Laura’s mum and I shout.

‘Jack Cassidy was so handsome,’ Laura’s mum says wistfully.

Laura and I both look astounded and bewildered in turn.

I say, ‘He’s weird looking. I don’t think the hair on the middle part of his head belongs to him.’

Laura’s mum is undeterred. ‘They all wear rugs. I’m all for rugs once a man starts to go bald.’

‘Dad didn’t wear a rug,’ Laura says.

‘We couldn’t afford one.’

‘That wasn’t the only reason, surely Mum? Men don’t tend to wear rugs in England.’

‘Oh, in England,’ Laura’s mum says dismissively, as if she’d spent all her married life in Hollywood.

We agree that although
Columbo
predictable somehow that makes it even more enjoyable, particularly when watched on a Sunday afternoon.

‘Look at the time,’ exclaims Laura’s mum and hurries to get changed and apply her makeup. Laura clears away the mugs and plates. In the middle of the coffee table she sets her mum’s birthday present; a history of the jigsaw puzzle and the boxed set of
Poldark
videos I’d found in the Hospice Shop some months earlier. Laura’s mum thrilled.

After dinner Laura goes into her mum’s under-stair cupboard to telephone Iris on her mobile. Emerges three-quarters of an hour later looking anxious.

‘What’s up?’ her mum asks without taking her eyes of Ross Poldark who is very dashing with his sideboards, frilled cuffs and wine-coloured velvet jacket. I’m wondering whatever happened to red-headed Angharad Rees who played Demelza his wife? NB. My own mum used to say that red hair tended to fade. Thinks: Have a red-headed cousin whose hair has never faded, in fact it’s got redder and redder when it’s not being black or blond.

‘Iris didn’t like my surprise present,’ Laura says.

‘What did you get her?’ Laura’s mum asks.

‘Margaret got it at the same time she got yours. Boxed set of
The House of Eliott
. I’ll have to go round later,’ Laura says morosely.