Fraser's Line (8 page)

‘But you haven’t looked at any of her personal documents?’

‘No – Edie liked her areas of privacy, and one of these was where she kept all the important personal things. She used the bureau in the spare bedroom, and kept it locked. I was a bit surprised that she wanted to do this, as I was always quite open with her, but there seemed to be something in her nature that needed to do it that way, so I just let her arrange things as she wished. I have no idea what is in there, but I suppose all her financial documents, certificates, and all that kind of thing.’

‘Don’t you think you should sort it out now? I could help you, if you like. I realise it’s going to be painful for you. By the way, what happens to her money if she didn’t make a will?’

‘I did ask about this, although I never for a moment dreamt that she would go before me. I was always anxious to make sure she was provided for. I started giving her sums of money quite early in our marriage – as soon as I had some to spare – for her to put into a Savings Account, so that she could build up something of a nest egg over the years. I suppose that’s all still there, in her name. It seems that, as her husband, surviving her, the law of intestacy means that it passes to me. But what’s all this sudden interest in your mother’s affairs?’

‘Mother told me she would buy me a car. She’d been giving me some sums of money, knowing I didn’t have a job yet, and she could see a car was a good idea, so she promised me one – only a few days before she … before she died.’

Fraser choked over his mouthful of food. ‘Your Mother! Gave you money! Promised to buy you a car! Why ever would she do that?’

‘Hush …’ said Joanna. ‘I mean, you’re shouting.’

‘I’m sorry but you’ve made me angry. Just tell me why on earth your mother would have offered to buy you a car!’

‘Perhaps she felt she wanted to, for some reason.’

‘What rubbish. I don’t know why she should even consider it for a moment –certainly not without discussing it with me. We did everything together. We always knew everything about each other.’

‘Oh, Dad!’ Pent up feelings were rushing to the surface. Joanna knew this wasn’t the time or the place but she couldn’t stop herself. ‘You’ve gone around all your life with your eyes closed! How can you be so blind! I know you’re going to tell me next that Mother was the best wife and mother in the world!’

‘So she was!’ Fraser could not contain his emotions either. ‘You and Sarah were very lucky – she went to endless trouble to look after you girls – nothing was too much effort. She taught you all you needed to know in life – I don’t ever want to hear you find fault with your mother. You’ve everything to be grateful to her for … everything!’

‘Tell me this.’ Joanna’s voice was carefully controlled. ‘Why do you think Sarah has to have her tight schedules? Why must she always have planned ahead for the next hour, the next day, the next week – but has no idea how to live in the present? Those poor kids have little scope for spontaneity or creativity – she’s afraid they might make a mess, and she hasn’t allowed enough time to clear it up! And why does she keep Michael on such a short leash? He’s tried to be a good husband but she never gives him any quality time – and he deserves so much more – he’s a loving, affectionate man and he needs to have someone to really love him and make a fuss of him. But Sarah’s on an express train rushing into the distance, with no time ever to stop and enjoy anything on the way.’

Fraser couldn’t believe what he was hearing. ‘And you?’ he asked. ‘I suppose you’ll say next that you know where you’re going!’

‘I haven’t even got on any train yet,’ she replied, ‘because I can’t decide which one to take. I’m a disappointment, aren’t I? Come on, admit it, for once in your life. I can’t make decisions, I can’t settle on a career – I can’t keep boyfriends more than five minutes. Think about it, and now tell me Mother was the best mother in the world.’

‘And you’re claiming your mother is responsible for your shortcomings?’

‘Mother was so burdened by her own lack of a sense of self worth that she loaded her hang-ups onto us. We were brought up with some nebulous goal ahead for which we had to strive to gain her approval. Sometimes she was lavish with praise – at other times heavy with disapproval – and our problem was we didn’t really know what elicited which reaction. The goal posts kept moving. What was good one day wasn’t the next. I think there was something buried deep inside her, perhaps when she was a child, that gave her a great big guilt complex, and she had to show the world that she had every reason to deserve its approval, with her idyllic marriage, her praiseworthy children, and her own personal beauty and charm.’

‘So when did you gain a qualification in psychology? Your mother, having hang-ups, and a guilt complex – what utter nonsense!’

Fraser’s face was white. Joanna had started and now she couldn’t stop. ‘You were always so thrilled with her, but deep down she believed she wasn’t worthy of your unwavering admiration, so she kept pushing you to see how far she could go. She wanted there to be a ceiling, but there never was one. She behaved outrageously and you went on shutting you eyes to any fault in her, or in us, for that matter. She treated you abominably, and you let her get away with it.’

Fraser pushed his plate away. He sat back in his chair, his face pale and taut. After a little while he said, ‘You talking rot. Your mother always acted out of the best possible motives – all she wanted was that Sarah and you grew up to make the best of yourselves, to be happy, and to make your mother, and me, proud of you.’

‘It wasn’t that simple – Sarah and I were put under continual pressure but it was hopeless trying to say anything to you. You always got cross with us if you thought we’d upset her and you always supported her.’

Fraser spoke through clenched teeth. ‘If you believe your mother promised you a car, then I will make good her promise. But I don’t ever want to hear you speak like that about her again, especially now she…’ He did not know how to finish the sentence. ‘I’ll get John to find you the cheapest car possible that’s reliable – he seems to have a lot of contacts – and that will be the end of the matter. I never want to hear anything like this again. And I don’t want any more to eat. Here’s the money – you pay the bill. I’m going home.’

Not trusting himself to say any more, he left. He felt shattered. His family simply did not have rows or conflict. The idea that his children were not leading fulfilled and happy lives was incomprehensible. As for the indictment of Edie – he could not come to terms with it. The pain he now experienced was quite different from the pain of loss – that was understandable, at least. But this – he now felt thoroughly disturbed and did not know what to do with himself. Once home he walked round and round, wishing he could think of someone to ring up, so that he could talk and somehow rid himself of the unfamiliar and distressing feelings that were engulfing him – but he couldn’t think of anyone.

Her mother wore the familiar anxious look she never seemed to shed these days. If she wasn’t looking tense and worried, she was usually in tears. This may have become the norm, but it didn’t make it any easier for Angela to bear. Gone were the days of the happy smile which had made the world feel a good place. Doreen had been like this ever since that frightful day two years ago, now so deeply etched in Angela’s memory.

Until then life had been relatively easy and comfortable for Angela, and Peter – her brother older by two years. Their father Maurice made a reasonable living, first as a taxi driver, and then, for several years now, as the private driver of an important government official. This meant that he worked long and unpredictable hours, was on call all the time, and was often away for nights as well as days. As a result their mother could devote much of her time to her children, and they felt well cared for and loved. The three of them formed a close bond.

One day when Angela was fourteen years old they were all on a shopping spree, and had naturally found their way to the large department store Doreen liked to frequent. She was a clever seamstress and made many of the clothes she and Angela wore. They were standing at the haberdashery counter while she chose buttons. The helpful sales assistant had brought out several trays, and Doreen was happily going from one to another, enjoying their feel, and colours and shapes.

Suddenly Peter spun round and fell to the floor, foaming at the mouth, his body jerking convulsively. A small crowd gathered round, and a supervisor rushed up to investigate the commotion. Shoppers craned their necks to see what was going on. An ambulance was called, and Peter was carried out on a stretcher, still shaking and jerking. Angela never lost the memory of the feeling of fear she experienced at Peter’s strange behaviour – her brother seemed to have been transformed into an alien being, and she thought he would die.

The diagnosis was epilepsy – or ‘grand mal’ as people called it. Drugs were used to treat it but they were not successful in controlling the fits completely. From that day on Doreen became more and more anxious. The symptoms were completely unpredictable. Peter would be perfectly normal one moment, and the next he would be on the ground, rolling about and jerking, often making strange noises. Sometimes when he fell he would knock himself on objects, and end up with a number of bruises. Once he had a fit while carrying a glass, which smashed as he fell and cut him badly. It became difficult to go anywhere, and it seemed best he left school, as in any case he was now sixteen. So Doreen kept him mostly at home, and although friends came to see him, some were frightened off by the fits, and started coming less frequently.

There was still a certain amount of stigma attached to the disease. From early days it had been considered somehow connected with devils, and those who suffered from it often tried to keep it a secret. The transformation of the sufferer into a writhing, inhuman being was frightening to those who had no understanding of what was actually happening, and in biblical times many believed that the sufferer was possessed by demons.

Although Peter’s education came to an abrupt end Angela was doing well at school, and was encouraged to consider a University place. She longed to do this, as books had become important to her, but she realised her mother would find it difficult if she went away. However, Maurice was adamant that Angela’s life should not be spoiled as a result of her brother’s illness, and Doreen, to her credit, agreed. Angela could hardly believe her good fortune when she was granted a place at Bristol University where she had opted to read Classics.

Life at University suited Angela well. She loved the Wills Memorial Building with its tower rising up over the city. She was thrilled by the imposing entrance, her spirits always lifting as she climbed the wide stone stairs leading up to the Great Hall and the Lecture rooms. She spent hours in the Library between lectures, engrossed in her private study, and the terms flew by. She made friends among the undergraduates, both male and female, and joined various societies. However, it was not her intention to become involved in any deep relationships, as she felt a strong sense of duty towards her family, and spent her vacations doing her best to help and comfort her mother, who was struggling to keep her spirits up in the face of the continuing problems with Peter.

Having successfully progressed through her course, Angela now faced her final examinations. She knew she had prepared as thoroughly as she possibly could, and felt fairly confident. At the end of the second day she was called to the telephone. Peter had had a brain haemorrhage and had died. Her mother, although in a state of great distress, begged her to finish all her examination papers before she came home. Somehow Angela managed to keep her focus on what she was doing, and delayed succumbing to the grief she felt until she had written the last paper. Then she crumpled on her bed and sobbed out her anguish for some time, before collecting herself to pack and come home for the funeral.

Doreen never recovered from this loss. She sank into a deep depression, which Maurice did not know how to handle. He took to being away for longer periods.

Angela’s results were good – she had achieved upper second class honours, narrowly missing a first. Her course, however, whilst providing the discipline of study, had not fitted her out for any particular career. She had given considerable thought to this, and became and more and more attracted to the idea of finding out how people’s minds worked, and how you could help those who were suffering from some form of mental illness, such as her mother. Wisely, however, she realised she needed to mature and experience life more fully herself before she would be in a position to help others. What she needed was a stopgap, and she found this in the idea of being a librarian. To spend her days amongst books appealed strongly, and would give her the opportunity of reading more widely. She trained as a librarian, qualified, and found a job near home, so that she could continue to support her mother.

Before she had begun her new job her mother was rushed to Charing Cross Hospital with heart trouble. Her blood pressure had, over the years, become increasingly high, and she suffered a major heart attack. At the hospital there was a brilliant heart surgeon who was making a worldwide reputation for himself, pioneering new techniques which attracted young and newly qualified surgeons eager to learn from the best.

One of these was the American surgeon Martin Makoni, who was a rising star in New York, and who acted as assistant in Doreen’s case. In fact it was he who performed the surgery, under the watchful eye of his mentor, and it was said that he had done an extremely good job. Doreen’s condition, however, continued to give cause for concern.