Diary of a Provincial Lesbian (28 page)
Explain that, though happy to support clothing party,
latest fashion styles
may not be my own personal style.
‘Oh don’t be such a kill-joy, Margaret; your image could do with some updating.’
On way home mull over Miriam’s personal style. Adjectives spring to mind: dowdy, rugged and washed-out.
November 12
th
Miriam says vicar investigating possibilities of pyramid selling scheme and krugerrands. Do not want to be accused of being a kill-joy so look animated. Miriam says vicar has a first class financial head on her shoulders. Respond with strange whistling sound.
November 13
th
Meet Deirdre at Bittlesea Bay Cafe at Deirdre’s request. Not her usual cheery tone of voice; more peremptory order to one of her many subordinates as in cleaner, Morag and/or Vera. When I arrive she is already ensconced, her back to the view, hands folded over a lime green raffia handbag. Looks up at me unsmilingly and says, ‘You’re in the chair. Earl Grey as per usual...and a scone...with jam...and cream.’
‘What about the muesli and okra diet?’
Gives me a cool stare. ‘What about it? You forgot that one didn’t you? Constant dieters or inconstant dieters?’
Express bewilderment while experiencing slight queasiness in stomach. Consider option of collapsing gracefully on floor with recurrence of mini-breakdown, but cafe floor is very muddy and I’m wearing my new fleece-lined denim jacket. By the time I return to the table with the tray, Deirdre has unfolded a copy of the
Listening Ear
and opened it at the Letters page. One letter is ringed in red.
Dear Listening Ear, skateboarders, train spotters, surf boarders, cyclists, mobile phone users, mobility scooter users, Baby on Boarders, table monopolizers, dog owners, Pot Noodle eaters, Martin J. Storm troopers, four wheel drive drivers, electric blanketeers, Uncle Tom Cobbley and all - I would be interested to know your opinions re. the decision to turn our one cinema into a multi-plex and pizzeria? Surely corporate business money would be better spent in providing a Wild Life Park or a Wild West Rodeo? May the Force be with you A. Oakley, Jedi Knight.
‘It is you, isn’t it?’ she says as I pour her tea.
‘What makes you think that?’
‘Mobile phone users and Pot Noodle eaters. You are the only person I know without a mobile and we are the only couple you know who were on a Pot Noodle diet for the best part of the Millennium year.’
‘That doesn’t mean it’s me.’
‘Jedi Knight?’
‘
That
doesn’t mean it’s me.’
‘I think it does.’
‘What does Martin think?’
‘He thinks it’s the librarian who turned nasty when he left our car parked across the library disabled bays while we were on holiday.’
‘It was just a bit of fun, Deirdre, that got out of hand.’
‘I’m not laughing,’ and indeed she isn’t. Have never seen Deirdre’s rosebud lips in such a tiny pinched dot.
‘Can I make amends?’
‘I want you to stop writing letters to the paper. If you don’t I’ll be forced to tell Martin and he will be very angry. He’s built the librarian up into an adversary on the scale of
The Riddler
in
Batman
. It’s given him a new lease of life. Instead of just the Corner Coffee Shop he’s spending two hours in the library every day reading the newspapers and making notes of her suspicious behaviour. Finding out that it’s only you would be a huge disappointment.’
‘Couldn’t I start writing with a librarian bias?’
‘Definitely not.’
‘Won’t he be disappointed if A. Oakley disappears?’
‘He’ll get over it. He’s found he rather likes the library. They’ve got a little garden at the back where he can have a coffee and a cigarette.’
‘Are we still friends?’
‘I don’t think I can ever be friends with you again after this.’
‘What about another jam and cream scone washed down with fresh Earl Grey?’
Deirdre folds up the newspaper, appears deep in thought. ‘That might go some way towards mending our rift.’
November 16
th
Meet Vera in the street. She wants to know what my opinion is on Deirdre’s newly planted Norwegian Maple? Admit to having no opinion. Vera says, ‘Not even if it grows to eighty foot, blocks out all the light and undermines our foundations?’
Murmur, ‘Surely not?’
Vera says, ‘Morag’s writing to the local paper and the council. She says there are laws.’
‘Indeed there are.’
‘So you’ll back us up?’
Say briskly, ‘At the minute it’s only four foot high, when it reaches twenty feet then I’ll back you up.’
Leave Vera going on about
people who sit on fences.
November 18
th
LC’s leaving party in Russell’s canteen a damp squib. Twelve people including me, LC, Peter, Noreen and a man from Head Office. Whip-round during previous week produced enough money (with staff discount) to buy catalogue number SLBE/8721 or Side Light in Bronze Effect, 8721. Bronze Effect lamp base in the shape of a golfer wearing plus fours and a flat cap. Could almost have represented Lorraine Carter in plus fours and flat cap, apart from handle bar moustache. Also sufficient cash left over for bunch of forced sunflowers from Morrison’s. LC said she was
quite overwhelmed by our generosity
. Man from Head Office presented a cheque, a funereal bouquet of lilies and white chrysanthemums, and a kiss. LC bobbed appreciative curtsey as if in presence of a royal personage. We clapped. Then Avis from the canteen directed us to two tables of nibbles. Best part of the evening. As I heaped crab sticks, profiteroles, mini-quiches and pickled onions onto paper plate, LC nudged my elbow and said in a low voice, ‘Can we talk?’ Retrieved pickled onions from fruit salad bowl before replying in truculent tone, ‘What now?’ Suddenly no longer felt the need to kowtow.
‘Perhaps tomorrow? Say nine o’clock in the Felgate Arms.’
‘Past my bed time,’ I quipped, ‘but okay.’
November 19
th
Lounge Bar, Felgate Arms. Got there dead on nine. LC already ensconced in curve of horse-shoe shaped cubicle, a bottle of wine poking out of an ice bucket, and two glasses. She was smoking a cigarette and looked...nervous?
Took off jacket and sat down. Left some distance between me and her. Noticed her sharp face looked tired. Suppressed that thought. Not the time to start softening. She rested her cigarette in the ashtray and poured the wine.
‘I hope you don’t mind if I smoke?’
I shrugged. ‘Whatever.’ (Thank you Deirdre for all the casual words and phrases I’ve picked up from you.)
‘Cheers,’ we said and tapped glasses.
‘Margaret I owe you an apology.’
Crumbs! ‘Yes you do.’
‘But first can I tell you a story? I promise to keep it short.’
Shrugged again. No way was Lorraine Carter going to win me over after months of rudeness and intimidation.
‘This happened a long time ago. I was in my late twenties. I lived with a woman who...I loved very much. I thought - I believed she felt the same way about me.’ She took a deep drag on her cigarette before continuing. ‘We’d been together eight years. It seemed like we had something special and long lasting. I could imagine that getting old together stuff happening for us.’ For the first time since I’d arrived she looked directly at me. ‘How long did your relationship last?’
She looked straight into my eyes. Was I seeing the real Lorraine Carter behind the hard bitten bully or was this just another mask?
‘Nearly ten years,’ I said.
‘You did better than I did.’
‘So what happened?’
‘She changed. I can’t quite pinpoint where or when. I thought I was imagining her withdrawal, the way she no longer quite focused on me or our life together. Took her a whole year to absent herself completely. One weekend she stage managed an argument. Brought it out of the blue yet made it my fault and symptomatic of all that was wrong between us. That evening she left and never came back. Some friends who I’d thought were
our
friends came and took away her stuff.’
‘Was she seeing someone else?’
Lorraine poured herself more wine. My own glass sat still untouched.
‘Of course she was. I saw them together a few times; they didn’t see me. I still can’t quite get over how they could look happy and carefree when they’d just destroyed someone. You see I found out where the woman lived. Had to hire a car to get there. When Georgie left she took my car, said I was lucky...’
‘Georgie?’
‘Georgie. And of course the other woman was you. Our world is quite small isn’t it?’
November 20
th
Thinking back to the beginning of me and Georgie. I remember there was a woman called Lorrie. She was giving Georgie a tough time. I recall Georgie saying, ‘Lorrie’s like a clinging vine. If I let her, she’d choke me.’
Had Georgie said that about me to Stella? The awful thing was I could imagine myself metaphorically ‘choking’ Georgie. It’s the obvious reaction when you think someone you love is pulling away from you - to hold them tighter.
Georgie seems to have the ability to move on, leaving distraught partners in her wake...stuck, bewildered. Believing they were inadequate and responsible for Georgie stopping loving them. Except Stella. Stella must have hurt Georgie a lot.
She
was no clinging vine.
I think about Georgie more analytically now and with curiosity; how she never lied, only withheld the truth, or side stepped it. All those years living with each other, yet I didn’t understand her at all. What did she get out of being the way she was? So cool and aloof. Always seeming to possess the right answers. She must have been special but I can’t remember how she was special.
Georgie, Georgie, Georgie. You’ve caused me so much pain. Oh dear, it is so sore, this hidden thing I know to be my heart.
November 21
st
See A4 poster for Miriam’s Clothing Party in the Hospice Shop window. In lilac script it says,
Fab Clothing offers YOU a chance to Try and Buy at genuine rock bottom prices!
Then a drawing of blonde woman reminiscent of Doris Day at start of comedic film career, marching across A4 with smart carrier bag. Doris Day look-a-like wearing box jacket and knee length skirt. Have Miriam and vicar gone mad?
November 22
nd
Janice rang. Speaking very quickly, she said she’d bumped into Deirdre in the shopping precinct and been told that Georgie and I had split up for good. If I wasn’t ready to speak to her she quite understood but she needed to know that I was okay. Speaking equally quickly I said that I was surprisingly okay and very glad to hear her voice. Janice said she was very glad to hear my voice.
November 23
rd
Wake up with horrible feeling of panic. Kitten jumps first on bed then on me.
‘In a minute, Kitten.’ Kitten, who is proving highly intelligent, immediately understands; she curls up against my knees and purrs.
I’d woken from dreams of Janice. Thinks: there is nothing between us (Janice and me) apart from possibly an imagined (on my part) rapport - but if there was - once again I know nothing about her apart from spurious details. She likes tea not coffee, likes face painting and is a druid party goer, also an excellent landscape gardener. She has a courageous face, can look sullen, which doesn’t mean she is - everything else, that she is kind, sensitive, I’ve taken on trust. Can’t bear to go through a year like this again yet don’t want to spend the rest of my life loveless. Inside I have this miserable certainty that it will always be me that is left behind. Abandoned.
Feed Kitten, ring Laura. Have never cried on the telephone before. Laura appalled. Starts crying as well. Says she is desperately unhappy because Iris has started running for an hour every morning. I stop crying and tell her that running for an hour in the morning doesn’t need to be threatening. Laura says Iris has a running partner who has perfect muscle tone, which she could never aspire to, as it would mean making huge personal sacrifices as in giving up smoking, drinking and late nights. Suddenly says, ‘Oh oh, they’re back,’ and rings off.
November 25
th
Its official: Tom and Barry have split up. Tom says
more in sorrow than anger.
He asks Miriam and I out for a drink. Also vicar but she can’t come as there is a church meeting to discuss forthcoming Carol Service.
We go to pub that is rumoured to be gay. Tom clocks two elderly gentlemen playing Shove Halfpenny
and whispers, ‘What do you think?’
Miriam says, ‘
Possibly
.’
I look unconvinced. However, when one claps the other on the shoulder Tom takes that as incontrovertible proof that they’re a long term couple and there’s hope for him yet. Seem always to be avoiding kill joy accusation - nod agreement. A low key evening.
November 26
th
Arrive at small room off St Dunstan’s church hall. Miriam’s mother is seated behind a table of cups and saucers. Mrs Ferguson and the vicar are manhandling a dress rail of brightly coloured garments out of an alcove. Both wear tape measures round their necks. Spot Miriam. She is in charge of video and portable television. There are five other women and one man with a leatherette shopping bag.
