Three Button Trick and Other Stories (21 page)

At that moment in time she felt as though her head was clouding over, clouding up, as though she were in a plane that was going through turbulent clouds. She felt quite willing to admit to everything.

Whatever doubts had clouded Felicity's mind evaporated immediately when she saw the strength of Selina's reaction. She had expected Selina to keep her cool and to utter a cold, cynical, stinging reply. Instead her reply was so unguarded and natural, so loose and out of character, almost intimate, that Felicity could not stop herself from smiling warmly at her. ‘Of course I knew it was untrue. I just thought you should be aware of the kind of things that a couple of nasty people are saying.'

Selina couldn't meet Felicity's gaze. She looked down at her desk and tried to call on an inner reserve of strength. Unfortunately this moment of introspection only re-emphasized in her mind the furtive activities of the Dual Balls. She was so tense that her body had become extremely dynamic and excitable. The hard wooden chair wasn't helping matters either. She shuddered, and suddenly her brain felt like sherbet.

The strength of Selina's reaction made Felicity's heart twist in sympathy. She bit her lip for a moment and said nervously, ‘Selina, I'm sorry. I didn't think that this would affect you so badly'

Selina felt as though she was on a roller-coaster ride. She said, ‘I feel as though I'm on a roller-coaster ride, Felicity. I don't know what to say.'

She was all gaspy and uncontrolled, her insides churning with a sort of ecstatic violence. In the silence of the room she heard herself breathing heavily. Felicity sat quietly, saying nothing.

After a minute or so Selina began to gasp. She was totally out of control. She threw her head down on the table and shuddered until the shudders turned into enormous, violent, gasping, wracking howls.

Felicity froze. She had never seen such a forthright display of uninhibited emotion before and from, of all people, Selina Mitchell. She felt a terrible sense of guilt that she should have provoked such a display, but also a sense of pride that Selina should have chosen to share this wild moment of release and abandon with her, Felicity. She stood up and went over to Selina's side and placed a gentle hand on her back which she moved up and down, up and down, as though comforting a small child or burping a baby.

Selina felt Felicity's hand massaging her back but felt too far gone to respond coherently. She just said, ‘Oh God, oh no, oh my!'

Felicity moved her hand from Selina's back and grasped hold of one of her hands. She said, ‘Selina, listen to me. This isn't as bad as it seems to you. It doesn't affect the respect and regard that I have for your teaching abilities. You are one of my best members of staff, in fact you are my very best member of staff.'

Selina heard Felicity's words but their sounds washed over her and made very little sense. She was at the edge of a precipice and in the next moment she was falling, flailing, floating. Her ears tingled as the wind rushed by. She steeled herself for a crash landing, but instead her landing was cushioned by a million feather eiderdowns, each as soft as a poodle's belly. Everything solidified again.

Felicity was pleased to note that after a minute or so her piece of encouragement had appeared to get through to Selina. She was calming down. After a while her breathing returned to normal and she raised her head slightly from the desk. Several seconds later she said quietly, ‘Felicity, I feel terrible about this, but it was just out of my control. I feel so embarrassed.'

Felicity clucked her tongue and shook her head, ‘Don't be silly, Selina. I know how these things build up. I'm just glad that you were able to let go of all that anguish and to share it with me.'

Selina felt as though she was floating in the Red Sea, lifted above the water by the sodium chloride, the sea like a big marshmallow. She blinked several times and sat up straight. She noticed that Felicity was still holding her hand. She smiled at Felicity and said, ‘Things have been building up inside me for a long time. I feel so much better now, so buoyant.'

Felicity gave Selina's hand one final squeeze and then let go. She said, ‘I know that you are a very controlled person, Selina. I've known you for most of your life and you've never let your emotions rule your head. I think you very much deserved this opportunity to vent your feelings.'

Selina was now fully recovered. She felt stupid but also surprisingly smug. She said, ‘I hope you don't think that this silly outburst will have any bearing on my discipline and dignity before my classes.' Felicity shook her head. ‘I know that I can always rely on you, Selina. I'm certainly quite positive that you are an indispensable asset to this school.'

Inside Felicity's head an idea was turning. It was as though a light had been switched on or the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle snapped into place. She said, ‘Trust me, Selina, you have a great future ahead of you at this school. I'm going to see to that.'

Selina began to smile. She said, ‘Felicity, you've been very kind and very understanding. Thank you.'

Felicity shrugged, ‘It was nothing. Now clear up your face. Here's a tissue. A bit of spit and polish should do the job.'

Selina took the proffered tissue and applied it to her running mascara. Felicity walked towards the door. ‘This has been an invaluable chat, Selina.'

Selina nodded and pushed her hair behind her ears, ‘It has, Felicity, and thanks again.'

Felicity smiled and opened the door. Before she closed it behind her, however, she turned and said somewhat distractedly, ‘I'm sorry to rush off like this, Selina, but my hearing aid is playing me up. I think it's dust or the batteries. It's been driving me mad with its buzzing for the last fifteen minutes or so.'

Selina smiled. ‘That's all right.'

As the door closed, she stuffed Felicity's tissue into her mouth and bit down hard.

‘Y
OU THINK JUST BECAUSE
you're getting married you can say that word in this house? You think that?'

Susan had repeatedly pronounced the synonym for ‘copulate,' loudly, unashamedly, with emphasis, and Margaret, her mother, wasn't pleased.

‘For heaven's sake, Mum!'

‘Fine. That's it.' Margaret picked up Susan's breakfast tray and took several steps towards the door. ‘If you want to speak like that in this house then you can go and eat your breakfast in the garden.'

‘Mum!' Susan started to wheedle. ‘It's my wedding day. I can't eat in the garden on my wedding day.'

A sheen of perspiration had appeared through Margaret's make-up. She hadn't yet had time to apply powder.
That's
how hectic it had been all morning.

Susan added, ‘Anyway, I'm not stepping outside with my hair like this. Call Leanne.'

Margaret held on to the breakfast tray, eyeing the half-finished glass of Buck's Fizz, and then swallowed down her irritation. It is her wedding day, she thought. Let her get away with it. She dumped the tray down on to Susan's bed and went to call her second daughter.

Leanne was downstairs giving Dad his pep-talk. Scott, her son, was playing on the stairs, bumping noisily up and down, one step at a time, on his skinny, bony rump. He came when Margaret called. He popped his head into Susan's room, took stock of the situation and said, ‘Why does Aunty Susan's hair look so funny?'

Susan slammed her hair brush down on to her dressing-table. ‘Mum, get that little sod out of here before I wring his neck.'

Margaret placed a firm hand on to the top of Scott's head. Her fingers could almost grasp his crown in its entirety. His head felt cool, like an ostrich's egg. She applied pressure, twisted him around, his head first, his body following like a small spinning top. After she had turned him 180 degrees, she pushed him gently with her knee out of the room.

‘Go,' she muttered. ‘Go find Grandad. Ask him if the cars are sorted.'

‘OK.' He didn't seem particularly bothered.

Leanne passed him on the stairs. ‘Watch out,' he said, ‘Aunty Susan's got a cob on.'

Leanne stopped. ‘A cob,' she said, ‘is a kind of loaf, a round loaf, sort of twirly. Or it's a male swan. That's a cob.'

Scott continued his descent. ‘Grandad said Nan had a cob on this morning when the champagne cork went through the kitchen window.'

‘Fair enough.' She turned and climbed up, making her way into Susan's room.

Margaret was standing in the doorway, her hands on her hips. Leanne squeezed past her.

‘Now what?'

‘Guess.'

Susan turned to face her.

‘Susan, I'm sorry, but that's exactly what you asked for.'

‘What?'

‘You wanted it Elizabethan.'

‘I wanted Elizabethan, but I didn't want it looking like I'd shaved three inches off the hairline. It looks like I'm going bald. The top's like a bloody …'

‘It's a bouffant,' Margaret interjected. That's what you'd call it.'

Leanne added, ‘It's like Glenda Jackson in that film about Elizabeth I.'

‘Bloody great. She looked like an old sow in that film. I hated that film.'

Margaret sighed. ‘I quite liked it.'

‘You would.'

Susan put up a savage hand to her hair, but only patted it. Leanne said, ‘Maybe it'll look better when the veil's on.'

‘Piss it.'

Margaret picked up the tray again. ‘Are you going to eat any more of this?'

‘No. I've got indigestion.'

Susan turned and stared into the mirror. She didn't, she decided, look anything like
herself.
Maybe that had been the idea in the first place, to look
unlike
herself. My face, she thought, looks like a bee sting. Red and puffy.

A beautician had called around first thing to do her hair, her skin, her make-up. Even her nails. She inspected her hands. The nails, at least, looked pretty and polished. She said, ‘My face is still all red.'

Leanne had been pilfering the breakfast tray. She was holding a large, brown sausage between her finger and thumb, readying herself to take a bite. Susan's comment distracted her. The sausage wasn't yet quite cold.

‘A facial,' she said, ‘wasn't a very good idea. I mean, you should've had it two or three days ago. A facial brings out all the impurities. As soon as I have one I always get loads of spots.'

‘I was spotty before.'

‘You look fine.' Margaret managed to sound convinced of this, adding with equal certainty, “This is your day.'

‘You should've got married in hot-pants, like me.' Leanne grinned, remembering.

‘Yeah, well, I wanted to be a traditional bride. I wanted a traditional wedding. Now my face looks like a cow's arse, I don't suppose that's going to happen.'

Margaret said, ‘You'll be wearing a veil. You'll look fine.'

‘Where's the dress?'

Leanne was eating the sausage. It was pink at its centre. Downstairs she could hear Scott slamming the glass-panelled door between the living room and the kitchen. He's going outside, I bet, she thought. He'll mess up his suit. She said, ‘I told Scott about holding your train again this morning. He promised to try and be more careful with it.'

Susan scowled. ‘The little sod'll probably sit on it and have me dragging him down the bloody aisle. Where's the dress?'

‘On my bed. It only arrived an hour ago. I'll go and get it.'

Margaret took the tray downstairs, knocked on the kitchen window at Scott, who was poking around in the pond with a twig, then returned upstairs to her bedroom to fetch the dress. She had laid it out on the bed earlier. It was covered in plastic but glossy inside; a pale creature in its transparent chrysalis. She picked it up carefully and took it through.

Leanne was fiddling with Susan's hair. She was saying, ‘If you just leave the back down then it'll look like it always does.'

‘Well, do a French plait or something, then.'

Margaret interjected, ‘Simon doesn't like it when you do it that way'

Leanne smiled. ‘Last time I did it for you he said it looked like you had a randy armadillo clinging to your scalp.'

Margaret tutted. Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. That's strange, she thought, I must be nervous. She lay the dress across Susan's bed and then checked her watch. ‘Fifteen minutes before the car comes. I've not even powdered yet.' She put her hand up to the front of her fringe to check that she'd taken her curler out.

Leanne said, ‘Don't worry, I'm doing a pleat.'

Susan grimaced at her reflection. ‘Make sure it doesn't stick out. I hate it when they stick out. Makes you look like one side of your head is bigger than the other.'

Inside Susan, waging a battle with her irritability, was a little voice saying: It's going to be fine. It's going to be all right. She said, ‘Leanne, switch the radio on. They always do dedications and a song for people getting married on Radio One at this time on a Saturday. Gary Davies or someone.'

‘Let me pin this in first.'

‘I'll miss it.'

She yelled, ‘Mum! Can you come back in here? Can you come and switch the radio on?'

Scott wandered in. ‘You want the radio on?'

Susan nodded. Leanne almost dropped the pieces of hair she was holding. Scott sat on Susan's bed and fiddled with the small radio on her bedside table.

‘Just switch it on. Don't mess with the tuning.'

He switched it on. A voice said
‘
…
especially Mandy and John in St Albans from the gang down at the rowing club. This is for all of you.'
The dedication was followed by the opening few strains of ‘Endless Love.'

‘I don't believe it. I bloody missed it. I waited twenty-four years for this moment and I missed it.'

Leanne pushed the final hairclip into the pleat and then stood back. ‘Rubbish. You hardly ever listen to the radio any more.'