Queen Mum (32 page)
Authors: Kate Long
I sighed and wriggled against him gratefully.
‘I suppose it is true,’ he continued, ‘that you’ve constructed a Juno to your own requirements, one that ignores a lot of her little faults and plays up the good sides.
It’s not like you copy her clothes or anything. Just this edited image you hang on to. It’s harmless.’
I should have said, ‘But that’s what we all do. It’s what’s necessary to keep certain relationships on track.’ I’d thought of a good phrase, the sort of thing
Manny would say: the Dynamic of Prejudice. I liked the sound of that. You have to believe that somewhere, in another place, the perfect family exists, or true love does, or that life is fair.
That’s why people go and see films with happy endings, or read
Hello!
magazine. Otherwise, what else is there to aim for?
But I hadn’t said any of this. I’d left it in my head for another day.
‘I’m not a copycat,’ I said now, in the wine aisle, next to a tall man with grey hair who thought I was talking to him and jerked his head up in surprise.
‘Hmm, I can’t choose; what sort of wine would Juno drink?’ said Tom, taking my hand, grinning.
The tall man moved off and my mobile phone rang. I grabbed for my bag, alert for disaster at once. The house was on fire, a neighbour was calling to tell us Ben had fallen out of the window, had
been spotted sniffing aerosols, some brand of doom. I saw Tom go tense.
‘Yes?’ I clutched the phone tight to my ear. ‘Hello?’
‘I thought it was you,’ said a cold voice. ‘It’s Kim here.’
*
Interviewer
– Why did you apply to go on
Queen Mum
?
Lee
– Because I was told to!
Interviewer
– What were you hoping for when you applied to go on
Queen Mum
?
Kim
– Fame! No, seriously, I had this idea it would open a lot of doors, that it would be a great experience in itself, but it might lead to other things. Like, I
suppose I thought I’d meet some famous people, maybe, and I might get asked to go on other shows like the people in
Big Brother
. Some of them have stayed around, haven’t
they? I could imagine getting a mention in
Heat
, or, say, one of those makeovers they do on morning telly. I’ve always been interested in TV and what the stars are like when you
get them backstage. I thought it might be an opportunity.
Interviewer
– I really meant, to what extent you thought it might improve your family relationships.
Kim
– Oh, yeah, that as well. Yeah.
*
Tom must have seen the colour drain from my face because he shoved the trolley to one side and mouthed, ‘What? What?’
I waved him away.
I’d tried Kim’s number again that morning, but only got Lee. That had made me twitchy, so I’d tried several times since, each time dialling 141 beforehand; or so I’d
thought. I must have become careless. You do when you’re worried.
‘Why have you been phoning my home all the time and putting the receiver down?’
‘I haven’t.’
‘Don’t be so soft,’ she snapped. ‘Who else would it be? It’s not your friend’s style. I’ve been keeping a log, you know. I can go to the police and
claim harassment and they can check your mobile, it’s easily done.’
Tom was still hovering at the edge of my vision. I put my hand to my temple, partly to block him out, partly to steady myself.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I won’t do it again.’ How feeble did I sound? ‘I just needed to ask you something.’
‘What?’
‘Have you seen Manny this week?’
There was a long pause. ‘No,’ she said finally. ‘Not this week. I wondered if it was that you were after. The last time I saw him was ten days ago when he dropped another load
of tapes off for me.’ Thank God, I thought. ‘He’s gone, has he?’
‘He’s having a holiday,’ I said.
‘Yeah, right. Extended break, is it?’ She laughed nastily. ‘I’ll tell you something, Ally, and this is true. I could have had Manny Kingston if I’d wanted. I chose
not to, that’s all. But I could have had him, you tell your friend.’
‘Like hell I will,’ I heard myself blurt out, and the blood rushed up into my cheeks and make them prickle. Tom came forward and took the phone from me. ‘Switch it off,
quick,’ I said, ‘for God’s sake.’
He pressed the button and the screen went dark. I was leaning against a pillar with one hand clutching my collar, shoppers moving past me in both directions. All at once I felt incredibly heavy,
as though at any moment my weight could send me crashing though the vinyl floor.
‘Are you going to faint?’ said Tom.
I swallowed. ‘No. Let’s just get out of here, OK?’
We left the half-loaded trolley where it was and darted down the aisle and though the checkout, dodging bodies. The people queuing stared as we ran through the doors, waited for the alarm to go
off.
‘Funny turn?’ said Tom as we stood at the edge of the drizzling car park.
‘Something like that. Can we order on the Internet this week?’
‘Only if you tell me what you’ve been up to,’ he said.
*
In Ben’s email folder were three new messages: Get a Monster Cock, Free Granny-Sex, and an offer for prescription drugs. I deleted them all, then moved Tom’s
Motorcycle News
‘Best Trackday Crashes’ supplement –
OUCH! SMACK! CRUNCH! SLAM!
– out of the way and found the Post-It notes. ‘Upgrade Spam
Blocker’ I wrote, then ‘Set Parental Control’, but scribbled it out. Ben would only work out a way of getting past it. Better if Tom could speak to him. ‘You going to say
anything to Juno about Kim ringing?’ Tom had said as we’d driven home in the rain.
I just gave him a look.
Now I wished I had gone round, tried to clear a path in case Kim took it upon herself to call Juno, but it was 3 a.m. and I was only in my dressing gown.
I pulled the cord tighter around my waist and the sensation brought back unexpectedly one of the nights I was up with Joe when he’d had croup. I’d sat on the toilet with the lid
down, Joe on my knee, the bathroom door closed and the shower full on hot. Steam trickled down the windows and the tiles, and my hair stuck to my face. Joe rasped and wheezed against my chest.
‘It’s not as bad as it sounds,’ the doctor had told me. ‘He’ll be running about in week or so.’
Then the computer’s message-alert noise sounded, which on our machine is something like a gunshot. I brought my hand up too quickly and caught it on the edge of the desk, sloshing my cup
of milk so that some splashed out onto the keyboard. In the pocket of my dressing gown I found a tissue and dabbed at the space bar irritably. Down in the cracks between Alt and Z there were long
beads of liquid; and I was remembering Tom telling me when we got our first computer, ‘One thing they don’t like is hot drinks, Ally,’ and another time Manny telling me keyboards
are so cheap these days that they throw them away at the council offices if they get messed up. And somewhere in the middle of this, don’t ask me how it happened, but there was one second
when my throat went tight and I knew this email was from Manny.
“Being on TV Spring-cleaned our Marriage”
Queen Mum
Kim reveals how reality television brought the spark back into Fox family life
It’s part of normality, the way you stop seeing what’s in front of you. Kieran, the producer, told me that right at the start.
He said that the role of reality TV was to make you look again at what you thought you knew, through a different lens, so that you can discover an inner truth. He said this was as true for
the participants as for the viewers.
I was married at 20, a mum straight after that. Sometimes I look back and I’m horrified that I took on those kind of commitments at such a young age. But I was convinced I knew it
all, and let’s face it, I could have done a lot worse than marry Lee and have two healthy boys.
Only, even when you’re happily married like I am, you come to a point in your life where you think, ‘Is this all there is, or have I missed some chances along the
line?’
I had my dreams, like anyone. I was a smart girl when I was at school, but I never got any encouragement off my mum. I always fancied one of those arts academies, they look like a real
blast. Then Lee came along and I fell in love, and suddenly my dreams looked silly against the day-today business of getting somewhere to live and saving up for the wedding.
So there you are, trotting along, nothing really bad happens but there’s just that something niggling in the back of your mind, what could have been. And people from my background,
we knuckle down and get on with it. We don’t go running off to therapists or weekend retreats so we can ‘find ourselves’. The working classes have to get up in the
morning.
The TV opportunity was a gift in every sense. It shook us all up, in a good way, and it was amazing to see myself on screen, rolling my sleeves up and getting stuck in. I was blown away
when the programme aired and I won. Mind you, I do think I did some good in the two weeks I was with the other family. The viewers must have thought so too, because I’ve had some great
fan-mail.
The boys were overjoyed to have me back. They appreciated the freedom I give them a lot more after it had been taken away from them for a fortnight. If there’s one thing you
mustn’t do with teenagers, it’s patronize them. Marco says, ‘You treat me like an adult, Mum, and I’ll behave like one.’ And he has grown up a lot recently. He
helps out more around the house now, which is nice. Nothing spectacular, but he buys us a takeaway once a week (I give him the cash but he goes for it himself) and he puts his dirty clothes
in the basket.
Chris has been through a funny phase but he’s more settled now. He told me once that he didn’t feel he ‘fitted in any more’. That’s teenagers, though,
isn’t it? His dad reckoned it was probably woman trouble, but actually Chris has got a nice girlfriend at the moment, we met her at parents’ evening. Her mum’s a solicitor!
So we shall have to mind our Ps and Qs when she comes round.
One thing that saddens me about agreeing to take part in the filming is that having a stranger in the house seems to have upset the bond between the boys. People got the impression from
the programme that they fought all the time, but they think a lot of each other in real life. It was only ever in good fun, lads will be lads. In a way, you could say Marco’s teaching
Chris to stand up for himself.
Lee couldn’t wait to have me home. He used to joke that I was bossy before, but now he sees we have a good relationship based on give and take.
Queen Mum
spring-cleaned our
marriage, you could say. Although he was a bit threatened initially by the press interest in me, he’s come round and on the whole he’s been supportive about my new media course
and my review spot on the Film4All website.
But the best thing that’s come out of being on television is that Lee’s agreed for us to try for another baby in the New Year. We’ve been able to talk about the effect a
baby would have on our marriage and address his fears in a much more constructive way then ever before. I think nowadays Lee appreciates what he’s got. He said to me the other evening,
‘It’s so easy to take people for granted.’ I’m glad he’s come to understand that.
I’d have said before I went on
Queen Mum
I was happy. Now I know I am.
*
The address was a Hotmail one I didn’t recognize but I knew the style. ‘
Abject Apologies
’, the email was headed. There’s something copperplate
about Manny’s writing, even when he’s using Times New Roman.
I’m so, so sorry, Ally, for the thoughtless way I spoke to you when we last met. I’m aware I must have hurt you deeply, but the words came out of the cloud of
confusion that’s shrouding me at the moment and I was angry and disappointed that you couldn’t seem to understand how I was feeling. And yet, how could I have expected you to
understand the state of my mind when I can’t fathom it myself? I behaved abominably. Rest assured, our encounter was at least as painful for me as it must have been for you. If I could
take back those words, leave them unspoken, then I would. Your friendship over the years has been invaluable to us all.
My leaving is not about Kim, you have to believe that. But you should also know that Kim is in love with me. And I felt for a while as though I had some kind of responsibility to that.
‘Lovers be wise, and love for love return,’ as the saying goes. But
we did not have an affair
. When the crisis came, I told her to go
home and get on with her life, and she has done so.
Where does that leave me? Have I the courage to go back? Have I the courage to stay away? The truth is, I don’t know. I guess I need a little more time. The constellations are
whirling about my head and I am no longer in control of my own identity.
I wait on time.
Love,
Manny
‘Up himself as ever,’ I could hear Tom’s voice saying. But I was touched Manny had bothered. ‘He’s lonely,’ said Tom. ‘That doesn’t matter,’
I said aloud, and my voice sounded small in the quiet. I pictured Manny sitting in a hotel room, scrolling up and down his laptop by the light of an anglepoise. Part of me longed to send an answer,
reassurance. Then I thought of Juno lying sobbing across the bed and the girls’ bright, brittle smiles. My hand was hovering over the mouse as another email shot in.
Dirty Boys Need Correction
, it said.
I shut the machine down and went to run a bath.
*
Sometimes I wish that I’d kept a diary of the years I had with Joe. Not just with Joe; of when Ben was little, the early days with Tom, the best bits of my childhood. You
forget so much. A scene you thought you’d lost comes back, but another drops out of your head. I think Joe, or Ben, or Tom and I get a different jumble of images every single time, like
shaking a kaleidoscope.
A diary might spoil that because it would fix the images more firmly. But what slips away from you is terrifying: what if the memories that you lose are the important ones? Under the lip of the
wooden bath panel my fingers touched an irregularity, a slight bump under the progress of my fingernail. I climbed out of the water and crouched down on the mat to see what it was. A tiny red
smiley sticker, beginning to curl at the edge; must have been there over four years, pulled off Joe’s school sweatshirt and stuck down secretly while I was turning his trousers right-side out
for the linen basket, maybe. And a whole series of pictures flooded back: of a Well Done sticker on a number workbook, backwards 2s in thick pencil; meeting Joe from school and telling him not to
stretch his jumper out of shape because he had his arms down the sides and the sleeves flapping loose; Ben wearing a price ticket on his face and Joe copying him; scrubbing temporary tattoos off
their arms in foamy bathwater. I could imagine Joe now, peeling the sticker carefully from his sweatshirt, eyeing the bin and rejecting it, keeping his eyes on me while he reached across and
pressed the smiley face upwards against the veneer. I expect he giggled as he did it. Perhaps Ben spotted him and tried to tell me but I stuck a toothbrush in his mouth, or there was a missing
bath-toy crisis, or I just wasn’t listening. I knew the reason I’d never felt the sticker before was that it was only now starting to lift away from the wood, but it was hard not to
think Joe didn’t put it there for me yesterday.
