sUnwanted Truthst (15 page)

But Jenny wasn't wheeled into a side room. Instead she was given bright blue pills to swallow four times a day and spent her time weaving baskets of various shapes and sizes until she had enough to fill a small florist's shop. She attended relaxation classes, and twice a week would talk to Dr McCaffrey about everything that she had bottled up for years. She looked forward to these sessions, washing her hair, and applying mascara and lipstick before she went into his consulting room. Revealing her feelings and fears for the first time, she became – like his other patients – a little in love with him.

‘What on earth are you doing in this loony-bin?' Dido said the first time she visited. ‘I couldn't believe it when Mr Winstanley told me. I knew you had a few funny turns, but I thought it was all that studying. You're not mad are you?'

‘No, of course not,' Jenny smiled at her friend as she sat on her bed.

‘Thank God for that. I can't believe you're in here. I pass it every day on the bus, but I never thought I'd be visiting anyone here, especially a friend,' said Dido.

‘It's not that bad. I'm just having a rest away from everything,' said Jenny.

‘I didn't think you were that upset about Mike. You went out with Peter soon after, didn't you?'

‘It's not just Mike. There were other things.'

‘I've brought you some magazines.' Dido looked around the room. ‘It looks very boring in here,' she cupped her hand around her mouth, ‘what's wrong with that girl next to you?'

‘She's depressed. She's just had a baby.'

‘Now that I can understand – all those dirty nappies and staying in every night. Guess what? I've handed my notice in, I'm leaving for Wiesbaden at the end of February. You ought to have seen Mr Winstanley's face. It was like a red balloon about to burst. I think he's quite fond of us really. It was a shock to him, coming so soon after you being on sick leave. That will give you something to get better for. You can come and visit me.'

‘Yes, I'd love to.'

*

Alice visited Jenny every day in the afternoons, staying for about half an hour. Their conversation was stilted, and repeated on every visit.

‘I really can't understand why you're in here. What's the point of staying here just to talk to Dr McCaffrey twice a week? You could be at home and still do that. I don't understand it. We're not told anything, after all, you're still under twenty-one, and we are your parents.'

‘How's Dad?' Jenny would ask, knowing that he would never set foot inside the building.

‘Dad can't understand it either.'

*

Nine months later Jenny returned to the small office on the third floor. A middle-aged woman wearing a pair of pink horn-rimmed glasses was sitting in Dido's chair. She stood up and offered her hand.

‘I'm Mavis, you must be Jenny.'

Mrs Jennifer Maynard – Mrs Jennifer Maynard, it has a ring about it,
thought Jenny, smiling at her unintended pun.
I expect I'll get used to it in time.
A colleague had called her Mrs Maynard twice yesterday before she had realised he was talking to her.
This isn't the
first time my name's been changed. A new name – a new life.

Jenny stood up and tugged her mini-skirt down until it sat three inches above her knees and walked over to the sash window. The shower had passed. Below were scattered the red tiled roofs of the county town. They reminded her of a picture from
Grimm's Fairy Tales
. She relished the view. Instead of the sails of the windmill rising above suburban sprawl, there was beyond the roofs, the green turf of uncultivated downland. Between the steep escarpments, the River Ouse glinted in the late April sunshine – like the silver trail of a snail – as it flowed south to the sea.

She had been married to Robert for three weeks. They were renting a one-bedroom flat above a gentleman's outfitters, where square-jawed models in tweed jackets filled the window. A young couple with a baby lived in the flat that fronted the High Street. Jenny remembered when she had knocked nervously on their door to borrow some milk. The noise from the lorries as they trundled under their window, twisting and turning to avoid the medieval buttresses, had filled the room. She had been glad that they had taken the rear flat.

She smiled as she remembered Robert grabbing a sponge cake as he rushed to work earlier that morning. On waking, the closeness of their bodies had quickly led to lovemaking, and he easily dismissed the fact that he had to be at his desk by eight-thirty.

Jenny always called, and thought of him as Robert, although his family and friends called him Rob. She had tried to fall into line, but it just didn't sound right.
He's not a Rob or a Bob
, she had thought, they're too light, too happy-go-lucky. Robert sounded solid. He was her rock – dependable – she felt safe with him. It was fate she had told herself. She had only agreed to go dancing that evening two and a half years ago, because Sue in contributions had asked her. A square-jawed man with light brown hair and a ruddy complexion had stood in front of her as she sat cradling a rum and coke. Eighteen months later they were engaged. When Robert had asked her where she wanted to go to celebrate, she had answered immediately – Edinburgh. It was not too far away, and would be the first of many capital cities they would visit together. Once she had flashed her diamond solitaire in front of her mother, no objections were raised. They consummated their relationship on the night sleeper from Euston. With the security of commitment Jenny relaxed and experienced a pleasure that she was eager to repeat in the small hotel off Princes Street. Any doubts she had assuaged.

Jenny glanced at her watch. Ten o'clock. She moved away from the window and walked into their bedroom. Breathing in, she edged herself around the small gap on either side of the double bed and straightened the crumpled sheet.
Thank God for the pill,
she thought, as she pulled the top sheet over the damp patch on her side of the bed. She straightened the blankets and covered them with the candlewick bedspread – a wedding present from work. Moving the portable electric fire out of the way she surveyed herself in the small mirror that hung above a chest of drawers and combed a wing of dark hair back off her face, glad that she had decided on a shorter style for her wedding. She pulled on a pair of knee-high boots and lifted a suede coat from the hook on the bedroom door. She picked up the car key from the shelf in the hallway and left.

Today was only the second time she had driven the Ford Popular by herself. She was nervous, but bolstered her courage by thinking that the roads shouldn't be busy at this time. She would be fine. Pulling the choke out just far enough, she turned the ignition key. The engine groaned. She tried again, this time pressing lightly on the accelerator, ‘Not too hard, not too hard,' she could hear Robert's words. The engine spluttered into life, and the car jerked forward several times, and then steadied. She manoeuvred out of the narrow lane and into the High Street.

Twenty minutes later Jenny reached the road to the Dyke. Below her she spotted the sails of the windmill, and thought how much she was enjoying driving; the freedom to go wherever she wanted.
Perhaps we could drive on the continent later this year
,
Brussels, Bonn – perhaps Rome? No, that's a capital too far.

‘It's strange to see you arriving by car,' said Alice as Jenny kissed her on the cheek.

‘It feels weird to me too.' Jenny also thought it strange to be visiting her parents. Distance – and her new status, combined to make her more confident and comfortable with them.

‘Is Robert well?'

‘He's fine. Where's Dad?'

‘Down the garden, I'll tap on the window, and he'll come up.'

For the past year, Charlie had been suffering from repeated attacks of conjunctivitis due to the high concentration of baking powder dust in the factory. On Dr Marks' advice he had taken early retirement and began gardening with a fervour that no one could have imagined. Before he had only mown the lawns under sufferance, saying that gardening was women's work, along with children, cooking and housework. But the day after he was presented with a gold plated carriage clock, he had walked down the stairs at nine o' clock sharp, pulled on a pair of wellington boots, and didn't climb the stairs again until lunchtime. Seven days a week he followed the same routine. Rain and wind made no difference.

‘I'm pleased you're taking Mum in the car. It's still cold outside,' said Charlie. ‘The pains have been getting worse lately, but she wouldn't go and see the doc, said she didn't want any hospital appointments ‘til after the wedding.'

‘It wasn't easy asking for a day off. I've only been at the Brighton office for a week.'

‘I hope that husband of yours is looking after you?'

‘Yes, he is.' Jenny smiled as she saw the gold plated Eiffel Tower on their mantelpiece next to the carriage clock. She picked it up and turned it in her hand, thinking of their honeymoon; the excitement of the boat train, and then emerging from the Gare de Nord into a different country. As they had sailed down the Seine with the lights of the city like stars flickering around them; Paris had lived up to her expectations.

Jenny twisted her wedding ring around her finger as she waited in the corridor.
It must be my fault that she's ill again. If I hadn't had that breakdown, she wouldn't be here.
She remembered how upset her mother had been, it had shown in her face when she had visited her. It was about a year afterwards that the stomach pains began.

‘How did you get on?'

‘Oh, he prodded my stomach, asked lots of questions. I'm to have a blood test and barium X-rays. I shouldn't have to wait too long.'

‘That's good, I'll treat you to lunch, and then we can collect the photos.'

*

Jenny flipped the black and white photographs over on the counter. ‘They've come out really well, haven't they? I love this one of us getting into the car. It's a pity they don't show the colours though, especially the red roses in my bouquet.'

‘The ordinary snaps will. I'm picking them up tomorrow.'

‘I think we ought to go back now Mum, I don't want to get caught up in traffic. Robert and I can bring these over on Sunday. We can see yours then, and you can decide which ones you'd like.'

Driving back through the centre of town, Jenny glimpsed the grey walls of Aldrington House. She couldn't believe that she had ever been a patient there, and decided not to come this way again. She wondered how Rosemary was getting on and whether she remembered her.

*

Well, I've made it back
, Jenny thought, as she flopped onto the sofa and checked her watch – four-fifteen; time for another chapter before I need to think about food. She picked up the book on the coffee table…
Bonn – the capital of West Germany lies about twenty
-
five kilometres south of Cologne on the River Rhine. It was founded by the Romans and the materials used in the original fort were incorporated in the later construction of the city wall…

*

‘That was lovely Jen, my favourite dinner,' Robert smiled as he carried their plates into the kitchenette, ‘just what a man needs at the end of a working week; talking about what a man needs; what about an early night?' He came up behind her as she was lifting the tablecloth and cupped both hands around her breasts. ‘Saturday tomorrow, we can take our time,' he whispered, nuzzling the back of her neck.

‘Let's have a quick look at the photos first; they've come out really well.'

‘Oh, sorry, I didn't ask, how did your mum get on?'

‘She's got to have some X-rays. She didn't look too good, though. I said we'd go over on Sunday.' Jenny collected the photographs from the chair by the door and placed them on the table.

‘I love this one of us getting into the car. I think we'll get it framed. Look at Dido in this group one, wasn't her outfit fabulous?'

‘I didn't take to that guy with her, Ed wasn't it?'

‘Jed – he was just a bit brash that's all. Americans can be like that.'

‘Yes, think they own the place.'

‘They invited us over there. They're really keen for us to visit. I'd love to go. Perhaps we could later this year?'

‘I thought we might go on the Settle Carlisle railway.'

‘We can do both, Robert, it needn't be for long, we can drive over and stay a couple of days. It will be so exciting.'

Robert went over to the record player on the sideboard and lifted the needle arm, halting Bob Dylan in mid protest.

‘Good idea, Mrs Maynard, but I've got an even better one.'

*

‘That's odd. I haven't seen that car before,' Jenny said.

Robert pulled on the handbrake. ‘I expect it's to do with a neighbour.'

Jenny slammed the car door and hurried up the garden path carrying the wedding photographs under her arm. Opening the door she glimpsed a pair of long suited legs ahead of her on the stairs.

‘It's good of you to come, sir,' she heard Charlie say. ‘The missus is in there with Dr Marks.'

Blood drained from Jenny's face. ‘What's going on?' She faced her father on the landing. His white hair was dishevelled, and Jenny thought for the first time how old he looked.

‘Your Mum's pains have got worse since Friday, doubled up she's been, and vomiting all this black stuff. She can't keep anything down. I had to call the doc yesterday evening. He took one look at her and said he'd ask the consultant to call.' Jenny stared into her father's empty socket. He hadn't even put his eye in.

‘Mum saw him at the hospital on Friday.'

‘Well let's hope he can do something.'

Jenny stepped back and collided with Robert. They huddled outside the closed bedroom door; straining to hear what was being said inside.

The consultant was the first to emerge, followed by Dr Marks.

‘Can I have a few words with you Mr Porter?' Charlie followed the medics into the sitting room. Jenny and Robert remained on the landing, staring at each other.

A few minutes later Charlie said, ‘Mum's going into hospital. They're sending an ambulance.'

‘What now? I'll go and see her.' Jenny pushed the bedroom door open. Her mother lay propped on three pillows, beads of sweat strung along her forehead.

‘Hello dear, this is a right welcome isn't it? We were going to look at the photos today, weren't we?' she managed a smile.

‘Don't worry about that Mum. We can do that once you're better.'

‘The pains started again on Saturday, but they didn't go away this time, like severe colic. Dr Marks even gave me morphine for the pain. The worse thing is I can't keep anything down…' her voice trailed.

‘Get some sleep Mum. I'll make us some tea.'

*

Two days later Alice woke from the anaesthetic to see the consultant bending benignly over her.

‘We found out what the trouble was Mrs Porter. There was a growth in your bowel that was causing a blockage.' He then added in perfect bedside manner, ‘But you're not to worry, it's all been taken away. Unfortunately, we had to remove quite a large portion of the intestine as well. But you'll be fine. Don't worry.' He smiled down at her, patted her on the arm and then moved on to the next patient.