Flying Under Bridges (20 page)

They
left the rightness of Adam’s stuff in the air and made their final farewells.
Pe Pe had risen unsteadily from the sofa and was handing out free copies of
some book as everyone left so Eve took one. Eve couldn’t tell what Adam’s mood
was. He was silent as she drove them home, balloons and ribbons streaming
behind.

As soon
as they got in, Adam went straight into the garage and turned Shirley Bassey up
loud even though he was still wearing his suit. Something was up but Eve couldn’t
chase him to find out what. Mother was coming. Eve just knew Mother was coming.

Kate
was in bed when Inge got back. The old chessboard Inge and her father had often
played on was set up in the conservatory, with a note scrawled from Kate. ‘Don’t
touch! Patrick and I are in a marathon game!’

Inge
wandered out into the garden. The boy, Patrick, had done a nice job on the
lawn. Everything smelt fresh and good but Inge knew it wasn’t. She knew she
couldn’t live here.

Chapter
Twelve

Eve’s mother was due to
arrive the next day, a Sunday, two weeks after the party. Shirley was back from
her trip to France and asked if she could come to dinner with John. They had a
present for Eve, and Shirley had some good news. Eve didn’t want it all on the
same day but she didn’t want to turn Shirley down. At first, when Shirley had
moved into her little flat, she had dropped in every night for a quick chat,
but lately she’d been too busy. Which was good. Eve was pleased. Of course she
knew what the news was. At least she thought she did. Some kind of scholarship
at the university.

Eve was
making a cake to look like a graduation diploma when John Antrobus appeared at
the back door.

‘Morning,
Eve, fabulous day.’ He bounced in like a newly washed Tigger. ‘You’re looking
lovely.’ Eve thought for one nerve-racking moment that he was going to kiss her
hand but he slapped his fist down on the counter instead. ‘What have you done
to that Swiss roll?’ It was a good question. It didn’t look like a diploma.
More like a dinosaur turd with white icing. Bloody Jane Asher. John picked a
piece of icing off the cake and smiled, as he licked it off his finger.

‘Supper’s
not for ages,’ Eve managed.

‘No, I
know. Come to see Adam first. Where are you hiding the old man then?’

He
should have been at the office. There were no days of rest for divisional
managers, but just then Adam pulled into the drive. ‘Hello John, good of you to
come. Eve, darling, any coffee?’

‘In the
pot.

‘Right.
Both white with, please. I think we’ll need the kitchen table. Will you forgive
us for a moment?’

They
wanted the kitchen. They wanted Eve’s kitchen. She poured the coffee, poured
the milk, measured the sugar, stirred. Indeed she thought of drinking it for
them, but she wasn’t wanted. Eve wandered out to the garden like a refugee.
Then she went over to Inge’s for coffee.

Since
Inge had moved in next door they had seen each other most days. Sometimes just
over the hedge in the garden, but quite often for coffee. It was nice. Like
having a real friend. Inge came to the door frowning, but then she saw Eve and
smiled. She suddenly looked all blonde health and happy. Eve liked the
Holbrook house. She always had. It was so neat and cosy. Since Inge had moved
in, there always seemed to be a fire going in the sitting room, even when it
wasn’t needed, and books everywhere. Eve could feel her shoulders sink six
inches as soon as she crossed the threshold. She had spent so many happy hours
here as a schoolgirl. It didn’t feel any different now. Inge wasn’t famous. She
was just Inge. Eve half expected Inge’s mum to appear with a plate of cakes and
some fresh lemonade. Inge put the kettle on while Eve sat looking at her cookbooks.

‘Special
night?’ she asked.

‘I want
to make the kids something nice. Shirley’s got some news. To do with her
university, I think,’ she said. ‘It’s silly but cooking for Shirley always
makes me nervous. My own daughter. And then Tom, my son. Well, he’s a
vegetarian now and I can never think what to make. I’m sure it’s very healthy
but it does seem troublesome to me. He seems to like things that need soaking
overnight and by the time I think about it, it’s always already morning and
dinner is just round the corner.’

Inge
nodded. ‘I think you need to be very organised to be a vegetarian. I’m not
surprised that Linda McCartney was one.

She had
the money, didn’t she? I’m sure she never had to think, Oh well, at least a
chop will be quick.’

The two
old friends sat next to each other and leafed through the cookbooks. Eve tried
to imagine the late Linda McCartney having an ordinary conversation about what
to have for dinner. She was sure she must have. She just couldn’t imagine it.
Inge pointed to a picture of a nut casserole.

‘I
never think the cookbook pictures of veggie food look very nice. Everything
seems so brown. It doesn’t seem to matter what you make, it all ends up looking
like it’s been eaten once before.’

They
were laughing when the strains of Shirley Bassey wafted over from Eve’s house.

‘Adam,’
she explained. ‘He’s making posters for the election. He’s standing again. It’s
only the town council but once Adam’s decided on something … Marshall your
forces — vote Adam. Adam Marshall!’ In blue letters on yellow paper. I haven’t
said anything. Adam thinks it’s time something was done about Edenford.’

‘Why,
what’s wrong with it?’

‘Well,
it’s changed a lot since we first moved here. There is a rougher element now
and I see his point. What with the mugging at the bus depot, and then last year’s
pantomime was an uproar.

‘What
happened at the panto?’

It was
a slightly rude story and Eve wasn’t sure about it. She hesitated.

‘Go on,’
said a soft voice from the doorway.

Inge
looked up, surprised to find Kate up and about. ‘Eve, you’ve met my friend
Kate?’

‘No,
hello.’

‘I
think I’ve always been asleep when Eve’s been over but I’ve heard a lot about
you.’ Kate grinned at her. ‘So what happened? At the panto?’

Eve
blushed. ‘Oh well, I shouldn’t tell it, but it was Robin Hood, and Robin had
just captured Maid Marian for the first time. And he did what Robin Hood always
does; he turned to the audience and said, ‘What shall I do with her, boys and
girls?’ And three boys at the front, from the modern houses up by the garage,
shouted back…’ Eve hesitated for a moment,’… fuck her!’

Inge
and Kate both laughed and laughed and Eve suddenly realised it was funny. It
was terrible but it was funny too.

‘Tell
her about that school show you went to, Inge,’ prompted Kate, still laughing.

‘Oh
God. I was asked to open or close some senior-school open day, and as part of
the event they had done a rather refined production of
The Importance of
Being Ernest,
to which they invited the local primary school. The play has
a tea scene in which two rather posh ladies are exchanging remarks, one of
which is, “I don’t believe I’ve ever even seen a spade.” It was quite a rough
area and I don’t think some of the younger children had ever been to see any
theatre before. I was sitting at the front and the audience had been fairly
attentive until this scene. As the rather grand actress said the line about the
spade, a small boy sitting right behind me said in a disgusted voice, ‘You
cunt!’

The
three women wept with laughter and all the time Eve was thinking that she had
heard the word before. This was not the first time. Of course, no one had ever
said it to her in their kitchen but she had heard it.

‘Wasn’t
everyone furious? What about the teachers?’ Eve asked.

‘No. I
think I persuaded everyone that Oscar Wilde would have loved it. He was quite a
naughty boy himself, you know.’

Eve
didn’t know that but she did know that she glowed. They were sitting discussing
Oscar Wilde. Drinking coffee and trying to decide what Oscar Wilde might or
might not have liked. The three women were silent for a moment. That nice,
comfortable silence that friends can have. The only sound was Inge’s ancient
family lawnmower being pushed rhythmically up and down in the garden outside.
Through the kitchen window they could see the young lad, Patrick, clipping the
grass. The lawnmower was probably forty years old. Eve hadn’t seen one like it
in years. It had a stout wooden handle, two wheels and, suspended between them,
a curling blade. There was nothing technological about it. It was warm out and
Patrick was wearing nothing but a pair of cut-off denim shorts. The muscles in
his back stood out as he forced the old machine into its labours. The women
watched him as he moved across the garden, up and down the lawn and round the handful
of apple trees. The light filtered through the leaves and glinted off his
shaggy blond hair. It was a pleasant sight. He was not yet enough of a man to
be alien to them and not so much a boy that he needed their care. His hairless
chest and flat stomach seemed newly sculpted. His bare feet had yet to be
trodden into imperfections. Eve thought it was like having an angel mow your
lawn.

‘He
thinks he might be gay,’ said Kate.

The
women came back into the room. Inge poured some more coffee while Eve concentrated
on getting an exact measure of sugar on her teaspoon.

‘New
trainers?’ asked Inge.

‘Yes. I
am going for comfort,’ replied Eve.

Inge
nodded. ‘Quite right.’

‘Goldfinger…’
came blaring out of Eve’s house. Adam was practising his campaign speech.

‘People
of Edenford, we are cast upon a sea of change.’

‘Why
don’t you just do salad?’ suggested Inge. ‘Eve’s son is vegetarian. She can’t
decide what to make. I thought salad.’

‘Salad
is good,’ responded Kate, still looking out of the window.

‘What?’
Eve wasn’t paying attention.

Inge
had got salad in her head and wasn’t about to let it go. ‘Tonight. For Tom.
Just do salad. You can’t go wrong with salad.’

‘Yes,’
said Eve. She didn’t want to do salad. Now that her mother had gone off for a
short hop with the fairies, she found she was checking vegetables for her. Checking
them for signs, inscriptions of the Old Testament, black and white photos of St
Paul, that sort of thing. She couldn’t tell Inge. She couldn’t tell anyone. It
was crazy.

‘Maybe
you and Kate would like to come…

Inge
got down off her bar stool and put her cup in the sink. ‘No thanks, Kate’s not
feeling too clever, are you?’

‘I’m
fine. Maybe another time.’

‘Salad,’
said Eve. ‘I’d better be off. See you tomorrow.’

As Eve
headed out, Kate called after her, ‘Oh, Eve, do you know Pastor Hansen? Up at
the Ten Commandments Church?’

‘That’s
that new one, isn’t it? I don’t think so. Why?’

‘He’s
Patrick’s father. I just wondered…’

‘No, no
I don’t.’

And Eve
left.

There
were papers all over the kitchen table. Adam was sucking on his teeth while
John stood beside him.

‘I
think that’s it, I do think that’s it,’ he kept saying. ‘Ah, Eve, look at this.’

The
poster was only a mock-up but it was still quite frightening. There was a
black and white photograph of a woman out on her own at night. She was being
menaced by something and was terrified. The slogan was straightforward.

Don’t
let Eden ford become a nightmare.

Vote
Marshall. Sleep safe at night.

Then
there was considerable detail about the mugging at the bus station and what
Adam intended to do about it. It was a far cry from notice boards and
dog-fouling.

‘John’s
idea,’ beamed Adam. ‘Get people to realise they need to protect this town and
all it stands for.’

John
shrugged his shoulders. ‘Not at all. Nothing to do with me. It was Adam who
said it on the radio. I’m just trying to help a good man get re-elected. Do my
bit for the community.’

The
good men went back to work and Eve was marooned in her own house. She looked in
the freezer to prepare for the evening meal. Beside a tupperware container of
spaghetti bolognese and wrapped in cling film there was what appeared to be a
bright blue budgie. Eve looked at the bird for a moment, then she put on her
coat and went to see her son.

Tom was
grown up now, and it was so nice that he lived round the corner. Of course he
lived in a tent under a tree, but Eve knew it wouldn’t be for long; just till
the bypass was sorted and then he would move on. Eve thought about her son as
she walked. Tom. She had always known Tom would do something with animals and
nature. There was nothing more calculated to upset him than watching his dad
carve the joint on a Sunday. From his earliest days he had been obsessed with
trying to save every living creature. When he was five she had caught him
trying to revive the Christmas turkey after it had come out of the oven. Even
then, at that young age, he had been the fully developed person he was now. It
was strange. Parents think they can form their children but the children arrive
with other ideas.