Out of Step (26 page)

She looked out of the window of her new flat to check on the weather. No one in the pedestrian precinct below had umbrellas up, so it wasn’t raining. Mic’s eyes lingered on the scene below her, taking in Woolworth’s, the building society, the burger bar and W. H. Smith. It was all so gobsmackingly handy! She couldn’t get over it. From the launderette below them to the papershop (for fags) two doors up, she had everything she could possibly want within hobbling distance. I can stay here till I’m ninety and totally crippled, she thought, and I’ll still be able to manage on my own.

‘Gavin?’

She was becoming accustomed to the rhythm of the week in this new habitat. Yesterday, being Sunday, was
pretty quiet, but today the Monday morning workers had all arrived and a smattering of shoppers were already wandering up and down. As she watched, the regular beggar plus mongrel walked up to his usual pitch, put down his dog blanket and collecting plate and began to play his guitar and sing. He wasn’t half bad, but he only knew five or six songs, so it could get on your nerves a bit. Still, Mic thought benevolently, it’s not a problem. Look at me – I’ve got a two-bedroom flat all to myself, with no one telling me what to do or where to go!

She went and beat on the bathroom door, smiling to herself at her good fortune. ‘Gav! What you doin’ in there?’

‘I’m comin’.’ The door opened and Gavin emerged reluctantly. ‘Why do we ‘ave ter go?’

‘ ‘Cos we do.’ She gave him a hug and helped him on with his coat.

As they began to walk along the street to the surgery, Mic felt buoyant with hope. At last she was beholden to nobody. She didn’t have much to live on, but there was a good charity shop for clothes just round the corner, and the chip shop in the next street was ever so cheap. And best of all, her boy was much happier. They’d survive. In a sudden fit of generosity she gave Gavin ten pence.

‘Go on,’ she said. ‘Give it to ‘im, poor sod. Least we’re not that bad off. Don’t touch ‘is dog, mind. Could be dodgy.’

Cassie sat in the waiting room with Rosie uncomfortably on her knee. ‘Don’t fidget,’ she said. There was no denying she had enjoyed her week without the children. She’d
needed
it. But now she felt resentfully that Rob and his bit-on-the-side had unfairly stolen a march on her. Both children were going on and on about what they did at the cottage, what they’d eaten and who they’d seen, but this morning was the last straw. Josh, fresh from a good night’s sleep had yawned and smiled… and called
her ‘Nell’! Cassie wasn’t having that. If the woman thought she could steal her children … well … quite clearly a different strategy was called for.

Cassie examined the pictures on the surgery walls with ill-disguised contempt. She suppressed a yawn. People came and went, or sat and coughed unhygienically. She didn’t know any of them. She read the headlines on the noticeboard again, and looked at the clock one more time.
Come on!

Rosie suddenly struggled off her lap and began running towards the door, crying, ‘Mic!’

‘Well, if it isn’t my Rosie!’ Mic picked her up and kissed her soundly on both cheeks. ‘How you doin’ then?’ She glanced across at Cassie. ‘Hi.’

‘Good morning,’ Cassie said without enthusiasm.

Rosie dragged Mic and Gavin over to chairs next to where she and Cassie were sitting.

‘We’ve gotta stop meetin’ like this,’ Mic observed cheerfully. Cassie didn’t reply. ‘Everyfink awl right?’ Mic enquired.

‘Well, clearly not, or we wouldn’t be here,’ Cassie said. ‘Rosie’s chest is bad again.’

‘Poor little old you,’ Mic tickled the child under her arms, making her burst into delighted giggles. ‘Missed you,’ Mic said to her.

In spite of herself Cassie was intrigued to discover why Mic was so jaunty. ‘And you?’ she asked.

‘Oh, we’re great, fanks. Gav’s still ‘avin’ trouble wif ‘is ear, aren’t you, love? But ‘part from that, we’re bofe good, ain’t we?’ She ruffled her son’s hair and turned back, smiling, to Cassie.

The grin was a challenge which Cassie couldn’t ignore. ‘We’re fine too,’ she said. ‘And having the extra space is a tremendous help.’

‘Couldn’t agree more,’ Mic said. ‘It’s great havin’ a place to yerself, in’t it?’

‘Oh,’ Cassie was considerably taken aback. ‘You found somewhere to live, then?’

‘Yeah, no sweat. We’ve got a flat all of our own, ain’t we, Gav? Kitchen, barfroom, lounge, the lot.’

‘But I understand the Council had a long waiting list?’

‘Well, we did wait more’n a year, didn’t we? An’ then one come up just when we was needin’ it. Couldn’t be better!’

‘That was handy.’ Cassie thought: Typical! People like her always fall on their feet – there’s no justice in this life. Then she thought: Wait a moment… ‘So,’ she enquired, ‘are you doing child-minding now?’

‘I’ve applied again, yeah. Looks like I’ll get me licence this time an’ all.’

‘So Rosie could come and spend some time with you?’

‘Yeth!’ Rosie said, climbing on to Mic’s knee.

‘Love to ‘ave ‘er,’ Mic said, squeezing her. ‘Cost you, though!’

‘Well, naturally I’d pay the going rate,’ Cassie said stiffly, but she was thinking: Wonderful! Well that settles that!

Nell ventured out of her changing cubicle to the pool-side showers, feeling uneasy. There was no sign of Anna yet, but she was worried as to what she would say when she did turn up. She had decided she wouldn’t be rude to her, but she couldn’t be unduly friendly either.

‘Nell!’ Anna’s voice behind her. ‘Long time no see!’ She was smiling at her as though nothing had happened.

‘Oh,’ Nell said, ‘hello.’

‘I was beginning to think you’d given up swimming altogether.’

‘No.’

‘So what’s the news?’ She climbed down the ladder into the water, and Nell followed her. ‘Tell you what, let’s
do our usual ten lengths first before we catch up with each other.’

‘Fine,’ Nell said, launching herself into a leisurely breaststroke. She was out of practice; her arms began to ache after only five lengths, but she kept going. Whatever Anna says or does, she thought, I’m not giving up swimming. I need the exercise. She wondered why she was being so friendly and felt suspicious. What did she want? She swam on, nodding and smiling to the other regulars as she passed each one, and at the end of ten lengths Anna was standing at the shallow end, waiting for her.

‘How’s things?’

‘Fine,’ Nell said. ‘You?’

‘I’ve just been spending a week with the B – with Paul,’ Anna said happily. ‘We’ve had a wonderful time – with notable exceptions.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes,’ Anna said, ‘he had to keep on visiting his boys. They’re at the houseboat with their mother, but I expect you know that.’

‘Yes.’

‘I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it really difficult coping with the reality of his kids. Somehow they’re an invasion even when they aren’t there. And the lack of privacy is a nightmare, isn’t it?’

‘Certainly is,’ Nell reluctantly agreed.

‘I mean, don’t get me wrong,’ Anna said, ‘they’re nice enough little boys. I just wish they didn’t exist. Awful of me, isn’t it?’

‘But,’ Nell began, ‘I would have thought you of all people would understand – having a stepmother yourself, I mean.’

‘God!’ Anna exclaimed. ‘What are you saying? I’m never going to be a
stepmother
to them. I’ve told Paul that right from the start. It’s part of our deal.’

‘So you managed to “get” him then?’ Nell was quite shocked by her own acidity.

‘Not at all,’ Anna seemed surprised. ‘He practically ran into my arms.’ She looked shrewdly at Nell. ‘Oh, you’re probably thinking about the last conversation we had. Yes?’

‘Something like that.’

‘But you do realise I never meant it? I was just upset at the time; talking nonsense. It was just a bit of luck for me that his wife went off with that actor. But there you go, lose some, win some.’

‘Or in your case win some, then win some more.’

‘Mmm,’ Anna said mockingly. ‘We’re a bit sharp today, aren’t we?’

‘Well, what do you expect?’

‘Look, Nell, I know you’re that woman’s best friend, but have I hurt her? Have I hell! She’s happier without Paul and I’m happier with him, so what’s the problem? We’re all winners.’

‘Maybe.’

‘And you and I are both involved with men who’ve got children, so we’ve even more in common these days. We should support each other.’

Nell took a breath. ‘It’s like this, Anna. I can’t pretend to be friends with you, but I’m not going to be an enemy either. So let’s just keep it neutral, shall we?’

‘Fine,’ Anna said lightly, ‘but I think you’ll find I could be very supportive. There aren’t many people around who are willing to acknowledge the problems people like us have.’ Then she swam off doing backstroke and cutting a swathe through all the other swimmers.

People like us?
Nell thought, insulted. I’m not like you at all. Even our circumstances aren’t alike. But later, driving to work, she went over the conversation in her head and acknowledged there were a few (a very few) similarities.

‘Anna’s acting as though everything’s hunky-dory,’ Nell reported to Sibyl when she arrived at ARTFUL
^L
.

‘Of course she is.’

‘Why, of course?’

‘Because she probably needs some solidarity.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Someone to moan to, who really understands. A sort of second wives’ club?’

Nell laughed. ‘No, you’re way off beam. Anna’s never going to marry Paul, and Rob and I probably won’t marry either.’

‘Don’t you want to?’ Sibyl looked surprised.

‘Oh, it’s not that,’ Nell said. ‘I’ve just got this niggling feeling that he’ll never ask.’

Nell opened the bedroom curtains and surprised a roebuck outside in her garden, in the act of thrashing her magnolia with its head to clean its newly grown horns. She went to the window to wave her arms in protest but it was already aware of her; neck upright, staring straight towards her with pricked ears and, she noticed, a strip of velvet hanging off one of its points. Then it ran away in a series of vertical leaps like an antelope, melting through her garden hedge as though it had no substance.

Oh no! Nell thought before she had time to resent its choice of shrub or appreciate its grace, I’m going to be sick again! She rushed to the bathroom and vomited into the lavatory, and then whipped round just in time and sat on the seat, wiping the strings of saliva from her mouth with scrunched-up toilet roll and reaching for her flannel to mop the sweat from her face.

‘You all right?’ Rob enquired from the landing. ‘You seem to have been up and down all night.’

‘Don’t come in,’ Nell said hastily, ‘the smell’s terrible.’

‘Got to you at both ends, eh?’

‘And how,’ Nell agreed. ‘I feel like death.’

‘Poor you. What can have caused it, d’you know?’

‘Might have been that noodle thing I bought for lunch yesterday. It’s something I
never
do.’

‘And now you remember why.’ He made sympathetic noises. Nell groaned. ‘You’d better stay in bed,’ Rob said kindly. ‘I’ll phone Sibyl. You’ll just have to drink lots of fluids and hope it soon passes.’

‘I daren’t leave the loo,’ Nell complained. ‘Every time I
think it’s stopped, I explode again!’

‘I’ll get you a drink of water,’ Rob said, making for the basin.

‘No!’ Nell cried, ‘don’t come in. You’ll be sick too!’

‘I doubt that very much,’ Rob said calmly. ‘I’ve dealt with much worse with my children. Here.’ He handed her a glass of water and Nell drank it. It tasted curiously sweet after the sour acidity of the vomit. Rob stroked her hair back off her forehead as though she were a favourite dog, and she was touched in spite of her embarrassment. If he can cope with this without going off me, she thought, then I reckon I’m lucky.

‘I wouldn’t mind a clean nightie,’ she said. ‘Could you …?’

Rob fetched one from the airing cupboard and helped her to take the old one off, pulling it up over her head. Nell shivered and held her arms up to receive the new one.

‘You could do with a warm bath,’ Rob suggested.

‘I daren’t,’ she said. ‘It might happen again. You go on downstairs. I’ll be OK soon. And thanks.’

‘Sure?’

‘Yes, really.’

Then after a while when she felt confident enough to move, she wobbled back to bed taking a sick bowl to keep beside her, just in case. Once there, she slept a lot and drank water whenever she could, if only to prevent the pain of dry retching. Rob was unexpectedly solicitous, coming home for lunch to make sure she was all right and bringing her some Dioralyte to compensate for dehydration. In the evening he was home promptly with a bottle of lemon barley water and a new box of tissues. She lay there feeling weak but increasingly content. It was a long time since she had been looked after by anyone, and never before by Rob.

Outside the sky was a cold clear blue. Nell could see a
pair of buzzards high-circling above the cottage and hear a wren singing lustily. It was nearly the end of March and officially spring. Only a year ago, Nell thought, there was that unsatisfactory party on the houseboat. I didn’t have Rob then. I even thought I’d lost his cottage too. Life may not be perfect sometimes, but it’s a damn sight better than it was.

The phone rang, and she let Rob answer it downstairs. His tone of voice sounded agitated and then angry. The Mad Cow, Nell thought sinkingly. Now what?

‘Hello?’ Rob said, holding the phone between jaw and shoulder as he tightened the top of a hot-water bottle for Nell.

‘It’s me,’ Cassie said wearily. ‘Bad news.’

‘What?’ Rob could hear his voice sharpen with apprehension.

‘I’ve been having such a terrible time, you wouldn’t believe. Josh is in hospital.’

‘Josh? Why?’ Rob’s heart beat uncomfortably.

‘Well, they’ve done tests for meningitis. I can’t tell you how frightening it was, waiting. I’ve been frantic. I had to wait hour –’

‘So has he got it or not?’ Rob interrupted, dropping the bottle, and gripping the receiver fiercely as if it were Cassie’s neck.

‘They don’t know what it is. I don’t think they have a clue what they’re doing. They keep changing their minds. First meningitis, then glandular fever. God knows what they’ll come up with next.’