Puppies Are For Life (20 page)

Katy found her father packing a small nylon hold-all.

‘You’re not going so soon?’ she gasped, watching him roll up a red sweater and fit it down the side of the bag.

‘Just a preliminary visit,’ he said. ‘I’ll be back again in two days.’

‘I wish I was coming with you.’ She sighed. Jan could be such a pain, making her do this, that and the other. She was far too bossy by half. If she could escape from her clutches she would. And now that it turned out that Dr Platt was a happily married man there was nothing at all to keep her here.

‘It’s a long way to go just for two days,’ her father was saying.

‘I know. I didn’t mean now; I meant when you go permanently.’

‘But Katy …’ Paul frowned. ‘There’s nothing much up there for you.’

‘That’s what Mum says too.’ She folded a shirt for him in two, and then into four. ‘But there’s nothing down here either. You’re going to be
awfully lonely, aren’t you, if Mum’s not going to go with you?’

‘But of course she’ll be going with me!’ Paul shook out the shirt, lay it on the bed and folded the sleeves to the back.

‘But Mum keeps saying she’s not.’ Katy was thoroughly confused.

‘What your mother says and what she actually does are two separate things. She’ll come round in the end, you’ll see.’

‘If you say so, Dad.’ She stared hard at her father; she wanted, with all her heart, to believe he knew what he was talking about. The thought of her parents parting like this made her feel sick, but she couldn’t push it away. Somehow, deep down, she had the feeling that for once he’d got it all wrong.

‘Mum,’ Katy said, her mother having just come up to the bedroom with a heap of clean towels, ‘are you going to Glasgow with Dad or not?’

Susannah looked at them each in turn, and looked away again.

‘I’ve made my intentions quite clear,’ she said.

‘Well, I don’t think Dad –’ Katy took one look at her father’s face and decided she was needed downstairs.

‘You
have
to come with me, Susannah,’ Paul rasped, when Katy was safely out of earshot. ‘Everything’s been arranged.’

‘How can everything be arranged?’ Susannah demanded. ‘I’ve told you, I’m staying right here.’

‘You’re being thoroughly selfish, you know. I suppose you realise that?’

‘Oh, and you’re not? This has nothing to do with your promotion, of course? Nothing to do with
your
wants?’

He threw down his striped pyjamas. ‘Susannah! We’re not going through all that again. Look –’ he held out his hands as if about to make two karate chops – ‘why are we being like this? Why can’t we be friends again? Why do we have to keep hurting each other?’

Susannah went and stood by the window, her arms folded across her chest. She was as miserable as the world outside appeared, cowering under a dark grey sky. She didn’t want any of this to be happening. She wanted to slip into Paul’s arms and be comforted. She wanted it just to be the two of them again, left to get on with their lives: him to his count-down to retirement; her to her new little career. Was that so selfish?

‘This could all be so simple,’ he went on, ‘if you’d only listen to reason. Us going to Scotland together means all our problems will be solved.’

‘Solved to your satisfaction, you mean.’

‘Solved for everyone in the family. It’s the best thing you could possibly do for them.’

‘Best for them if I was out of their way.’ She turned to look up at him bleakly. ‘Well, if that’s what you’re all waiting for, I’m sure it could be arranged. I hardly need to go as far as Glasgow, though. I’ll find somewhere of my own to live.’

‘Oh, now you’re just being ridiculous.’ Paul fell on to the bed and closed his eyes. And he didn’t open them again until she’d gone.

Perhaps she
was
being ridiculous, she thought, running downstairs. But she really couldn’t see it. Something had got into her – a stubbornness that urged her on. And if she didn’t hang on to what she believed in then she knew she would lose all faith in herself. She would virtually cease to exist.

She went for a walk across the fields behind the cottage, feeling conspicuous and vulnerable without a dog, and finally returned through the village so that she would pass the public phone.

Shutting herself in the booth she got a number from directory enquiries and fed change from her pocket into the slot. Minutes later it was all arranged; she knew what she was going to do.

But she hadn’t reckoned with the effect her decision would have on the rest of the family.

The first person she told was Jan, who she found making out a shopping list on a wipe-clean board. Jan had got as far as writing ‘bread’ beneath the harvest fruits motif when Susannah burst into the kitchen.

‘No doubt you’ll be delighted to know,’ Susannah immediately informed her, ‘that I’ll be moving out as well.’

Jan paused and looked up, preoccupied, the pen hovering with her thoughts. ‘Of course you are, dear.’ She smiled. ‘You’re going to Scotland with Paul.’

‘No, I’m not. I’m going to London.’ She looked up at the ceiling and waited.

‘To London? But … I don’t understand.’ Events were moving too quickly for Jan to keep up.

‘I’ve just phoned Dora Saxby,’ Susannah went on. ‘That’s the woman my uncle left his house to, if you remember. I asked if she would mind me renting the place for a while. I knew she wouldn’t have done anything about it yet. And she seemed pleased to have someone to look after it.’

‘But you’re … not … leaving Paul!’

‘Well … I wouldn’t put it quite like that. He’s insisting on going to Scotland; I’m going to London. It’s just a parting of the ways.’

‘Oh, Susannah, please don’t. There’s surely no need for all this.’ Jan clutched the onyx pendant at her throat, her eyes flickering about as though she could take nothing in. ‘I – when I asked for ideas as to how we could all manage together … I didn’t mean … I didn’t think it would all come to this …’

‘Come to what?’ Katy came into the kitchen, her eyes wide and alert, but when neither Jan nor her mother would look at her, she needed no further telling. Her mother and father really were going to split up. They were no different from hundreds of other parents. She fled back upstairs to her bedroom and slammed the door in disgust.

Simon went very quiet at the news. Only Natalie could talk to him. Finding him stretched full-length
on the sofa without even the television on, she squeezed in beside him and lay down.

‘Perhaps it’s the menopause,’ she said helpfully, snuggling under his arm. Jan had got her a book of women’s ailments from the local library, and she felt well prepared for any eventuality now. ‘That’s all to do with hormones too, you know.’

‘Bit young for all that, isn’t she?’

‘Well, some women start earlier than others; there aren’t any written laws.’

‘So what d’you think the solution is?’ Simon’s tone was cynical. ‘You think this is just another problem for the doctors to solve? They can cure a twenty-five-year itch, can they? Or bring Glasgow nearer to Bristol?’

‘No, of course not. But perhaps your mum needs pills of some sort, and – and counselling, maybe, like me.’

Simon showed his contempt of the idea with a grunt; there was a limit to what pills and talk could do.

He fell into another silence, then broke it by saying with a scornful laugh, ‘D’you know, before all this, I was going to ask you to marry me. What do you think of that? I was thinking: wouldn’t it be good to have what my parents have had all these years? Something really good and lasting and strong. Perhaps if we’d been married – properly committed – then we wouldn’t have had difficulties either. We would have had more reason to stick at working things out. But now they’ve bust
up like everyone else does. It was all nothing but a sham.’

‘That’s what I thought when my parents parted,’ Natalie said forlornly, forgetting her intention to comfort Simon. ‘Marriage is a complete waste of time, really, isn’t it? You might as well not bother.’

Paul didn’t know what emotion to put on his face when he discovered his wife heaving a suitcase down from the top of a cupboard in their room. Should he show delight that she had decided to come with him – or was she about to carry out her threat of going off on her own?

‘I’m going to London,’ she told him, putting paid to his last shred of hope, and she briefly explained where she would be staying.

Paul didn’t know whether to hit her or throw himself at her feet. He waved his arms about helplessly for a moment, then put both his hands on his hips. ‘Well, if that isn’t the daftest thing I’ve ever heard!’ he blustered. ‘What the hell’s the point of going there? I thought you were desperate to stay in this area – to be nearer to your god-damned clients.’

Susannah snapped back the locks on the case and threw up the lid. ‘I’ll be within commuting distance,’ she told him tightly. ‘I’m not working in people’s homes at the moment. All I need to be able to do is to deliver completed items when necessary.’

‘Sounds to me like you’ll be losing all your profits on petrol.’

‘Well, it would sound like that to you, wouldn’t it?’ She put a hand to her forehead, suddenly weary. ‘Look, I don’t want to start another argument, Paul.’

‘You can’t expect me to take this lying down like a helpless lamb. God – I haven’t even done anything! It’s not as though I’ve played around with another –’ He stopped, shocked by his own thoughts – and by their implications. He stared at her, round-mouthed, his eyes bulging with the pictures conjured up in his mind. Then he let out a self-deprecating laugh.

‘My God, how naive can one get?’ He rubbed the back of his neck and walked a full circle, trying to take it on board. ‘So that’s what this is all about, is it? Jeez – now it makes sense. Now I see why the family was too much trouble for you all of a sudden. And who’s the lucky fella, eh? This Harvey Watchamacallim, I suppose? Him with the smooth talk and the money to fritter away? And nothing better to do?’

‘No!’ Susannah reddened at the accusation. ‘This has nothing to do with him. Or any other man. I – I give you my word on that.’

But Paul almost wished there were another man involved; at least he would know what he was up against. At least there would be something to fight. ‘I simply don’t understand,’ he said, sinking on to the edge of the bed.

He watched her fold jeans and fleece-lined sweat-shirts, and his tone was almost pleading when he
spoke again. ‘You’ve still time to change your mind, you know. Oh, come with me to Glasgow, Sue! Just for the two days. I’m sure you’ll like it up there. At least it’d be a break for you. You’ll be able to sort your thoughts out; get everything in proportion.’

He thought he saw her wavering as she turned with a nightdress over one arm. But after briefly glancing at him she shook her head – hard.

‘Susannah.’ He sprang from the bed and turned her back to face him. ‘Don’t break up the family like this. Please, Susannah, please!’

But if there were any magic words he could say to make her change her mind, he didn’t know what they were. He had to give up in the end. And pray that she’d soon see sense.

Susannah found Katy in her room. She hadn’t appeared for the evening meal.

‘Are your hands hurting again?’ she asked worriedly.

‘A little.’ Katy regarded her mother with soulful, accusing eyes. ‘I wish you weren’t going away. How can you go and leave me like this?’ She held up her hands as though they were in iron chains. ‘And why do you keep changing everything? Why can’t things stay the same?’

‘Nothing ever stays the same, Katy. You know that perfectly well.’ She shrugged. ‘I just feel I must get away for a while. I can’t stay here.’

‘You’ll come back, though, won’t you?’

The words were a knife in Susannah’s heart; her
mother hadn’t been able to come back. At least she wasn’t exposing Katy to the same gut-wrenching sense of loss that she’d experienced when her mother died.

‘I’m not going to the ends of the earth, you know. I’ll still be able to pop in. Anyway,’ she tried to smile, ‘you’re a big girl now. You don’t need me.’

‘But we don’t want you to go to London. And we do need you. We want you to stay here with us.’

Susannah looked at the fluff gathering in rolls on top of the pine chest, exasperation welling up through layers of sympathy, helplessness and guilt. ‘But it’s not the real me that you want,’ she said. ‘And I can’t be the old one any longer.’

She got up from the bed then, muttering something about dinner going cold, and left Katy more confused than ever. But there was no other way she could explain her feelings; no way Katy would ever see.

The Webbs’ utility room was a part of the old dairy, the original purpose of which could only now be guessed at. A spacious but gloomy room, it was currently cluttered with an assortment of household items for which neither Harvey nor Julia could find a home. Only a large gleaming white washing machine that loomed out of the shadowy muddle served any real purpose in their lives – along with a battered stainless steel sink and a floor mop.

‘You left them on the draining-board, you say?’ Harvey flicked the strip light into life and set it humming. ‘Let me get them for you then.’

He began picking his way over old shoes, a piece of dented brass curtain rail, an empty plastic petrol can, and a trug containing weeds. He had forgotten he was supposed to have sorted it all out.

‘I’m sorry to be a nuisance,’ Susannah said, watching him negotiate the mine-field like someone wading through glue. ‘It’s not so much the value of the things, otherwise I wouldn’t have troubled you; it’s just the bother of getting
replacements … Silly me, I should have remembered I’d left them there to dry the last time I was here. It would have saved – oh, thank you. Thank you very much.’

Harvey had retrieved her spatulas, sponges and mixing bowls and thrust them into a Woolworth’s carrier bag, and now, dangling the bag by one finger, he held it out to her.

‘A pleasure to be of assistance, ma’am. But I know what you really came for,’ he added, giving her a comical nod and a wink.

‘I – what?’ She took the bag from him, not sure what was in his mind.

‘Yes –’ He was grinning broadly. ‘I’ll write you out your cheque.’

‘Oh no! Good heavens! That wasn’t the reason I came.’ But of course he’d seen through her excuse. She should have realised he would.

She would rather not have had to come at all, only she was desperately in need of the money. She didn’t want to have to touch the account she held jointly with Paul, unless compelled to do so.

‘Please don’t think that I –’ she went on.

‘– that you’re as avaricious as the rest of us? I know you better than that. All the same, I must pay you some time; it might as well be now. Now where did I put that cheque book?’

Stepping out of the utility room he strode through a coolly tiled inner hall and into the carpeted lounge, leaving Susannah to follow him meekly. When he had found the cheque book
among a litter of papers in the bureau and filled one in with a flourish, he grandly ripped it off.

‘Your first job complete and paid for,’ he said, bowing as he handed it to her. ‘Allow me to congratulate you, Mrs Harding, on an accomplished piece of work.’

‘Thank you,’ she mumbled awkwardly, folding the slip of paper without looking at it. She tucked it into the pocket of her thick-knit cardigan.

‘You don’t seem very pleased,’ he remarked, watching her all the while.

‘Of course I’m pleased … very.’ She forced herself to smile. ‘I – I’m sorry but I have to dash now. Lots of things to do.’ She was already moving towards the front door as she spoke, but Harvey managed to get there first.

‘Susannah, what’s the matter?’ He had put his hand on the latch – not, it seemed, with the intention of seeing her off the premises but of holding it firmly in place. She was not going to get away, apparently, until he had had an answer.

‘Nothing’s the matter. Really. I’m perfectly all right.’

‘Really,’ he echoed flatly, cynicism curving his mouth. ‘You drift in here looking like the world’s come to a tragic end – but nothing’s really the matter?’

She stared at the typically masculine area of his throat revealed by his blue open-neck shirt. ‘Well –’ she tossed her head dismissively – ‘I’ve a few minor problems at the moment. Nothing for you to
worry about, though. I’m sure I shall survive. Would you let me out now, please? I really must be off.’

‘But, Susannah, I thought we were friends.’ He admonished her with a frown. ‘Didn’t I give you your first commission? And encourage you all the way?’

‘Yes, and I’m eternally grateful to you.’ She swallowed as her eyes flickered to his. ‘And – yes, of course we’re friends … only –’

‘Then please let me try to help you. You’re looking very distraught.’

She allowed him to walk her back to the sitting room. She may have only come for her money but the need to pour out her heart to someone, was suddenly overwhelming. And right now Harvey was the only person in her life who seemed to understand.

‘I’ve a rather nice white wine in the fridge,’ he was saying to her from the kitchen, ‘or – second thoughts –’ he hurried back to where she sat – ‘perhaps a brandy would be better right now.’

‘No, no. No alcohol for me, thanks. I’ve … got a long drive ahead.’

‘Drive?’ He paused on his way to a drinks tray. ‘And where are you driving off to?’

‘London. I’m going to London. I’m … leaving the family, you know.’

‘Leaving?’ A start of surprise seemed to catch him. ‘No, I didn’t know.’ He walked round her so he could face her. ‘That’s … an odd way of putting it, though, isn’t it? I mean, I’ve heard of women
leaving their husbands, and of husbands leaving their wives – who hasn’t these days? – but …’ He waited for her explanation.

‘Well, you see, Paul’s got himself posted to Glasgow, but I’ve decided I can’t go with him. And as for the rest of the family – well, I’ve just got to get away.’

She began to pace about the room, thoughts of her family making her agitated all over again.

‘I really can’t take any more.’ Her voice wobbled and she choked on the words. ‘I’ve reached the end of my tether.’

She didn’t realise she was crying until a clean white handkerchief appeared in front of her nose. And then she gave way to huge, heaving sobs of self-pity.

‘Oh, why can’t I be what they want me to be?’ she wailed, her face buried against Harvey’s chest.

‘Because you’re you, Susannah,’ he said gently.

‘I don’t want to be me! It’s too difficult! It was all much simpler before.’

‘But wrong. You know it was wrong, now don’t you?’ His hand fell softly on her hair. ‘You’ve done the right thing, taking charge of your life the way you have.’

‘And where the hell’s it got me?’ She pulled away from him quickly, appalled at the way things were developing. She knew she couldn’t cling to him like this a moment longer. A brief hug of comfort might be just permissible, but spin it out a second too long and trouble must surely ensue.

She sniffed and bunched up the handkerchief. ‘I’ve alienated my whole family, following the selfish path, and –’

‘Sod it!’ Harvey suddenly cursed. ‘That sounds like Julia’s car.’ He grasped Susannah by the shoulders and forced her to look up at him. ‘You are
not
being selfish,’ he almost shouted at her, ‘so stop chastising yourself. Now, where are you staying in London?’

‘M-my uncle’s old house.’

‘The one in Haringey you told me about? Remind me of the address.’

Susannah had never mentioned the address before: the information had been superfluous. But now, finding herself incapable of inventing a reason for not doing so, she breathlessly rattled it off, her teeth clattering together all the while.

Harvey went over to the bureau and scribbled the details down. ‘Just in case there’s more interest in the mural,’ he was saying loudly by the time Julia opened the door, ‘so that I can pass more customers on to you.’

Julia glanced up in surprise as she stepped over the threshold in high-heeled boots and trousers that moulded her bottom. She was clutching a carton of semi-skimmed milk and a small paper bag from the chemist’s, and had looked preoccupied on opening the door.

‘More make-up, I suppose,’ Harvey commented, the scathing remark being aimed at the pink-striped paper bag.

Julia flushed, obviously aware that they had a visitor and that he was being less than polite, and tried to make as small a package as possible of her purchase.

‘Oh –’ Harvey remembered better manners – ‘you haven’t met Susannah yet, have you? Susannah’s the lady who did the mural. I’ve talked about her a lot.’

‘Oh, yes. Yes, of course.’ Julia smiled, her lips sliding apart over perfect teeth. ‘I wish I was clever like you,’ she added wistfully. ‘It must be nice to be really, really good at something.’

‘You’re very kind,’ Susannah murmured, touched by her heart-felt words. Julia was not as she had imagined her; she was much more likeable than she’d thought. But Harvey hadn’t treated her with much respect, and the thought disturbed her a little. She rallied herself with difficulty. ‘I’m afraid I have to be going. I – er – just came to collect some of my things.’

‘I wish you good luck for London,’ Harvey said, formally seeing Susannah off the premises. His face revealed little as he waved and shut the door.

As she hurried away Susannah couldn’t help wondering what might have happened had Julia not turned up.

‘So, how was bonny Scotland?’ Jan asked, attempting to lighten the atmosphere. The cottage hadn’t seemed the same since Susannah left. Funny how one person could make such a difference … but
she didn’t want Paul to feel it too much.

‘Scotland,’ he said slowly, like someone coming out of an anaesthetic, ‘was – well – bonny, as you said. At least, once you get out of the city it is …’

‘And?’ Jan prompted. But Paul was miles away. He seemed incapable of concentrating on anything for long. His eyes kept roving the kitchen, his ears listening out for the right sounds.

‘I suppose … she’s actually gone?’ he forced out.

Jan sought silent opinion from the rest of the family as to how she ought to proceed. They were squashed round the pine table at the moment, waiting for the evening meal. But one after another they glanced away from her; she would get no help from them.

Jan went over to the cooker, her hands padded in big mitts with a hen design on each. She took out a large pot of chicken fricassee, lifted the lid with difficulty and stirred the contents around. Jan’s meals were irresistible, and even Simon and Natalie now succumbed to them daily – no matter what they contained.

Dumping the dish in the middle of the table Jan said with conviction she did not feel: ‘She’ll be back before long, I’m sure she will. You’ll see, Paul, if I’m not right.’

But everyone knew it was unlikely in the extreme. Why, even Frank had had a good go at his daughter, just before she’d left. Not that that had really helped much; in fact it might have even made things worse. But at least he had done his bit.

Paul let Jan ladle the mixture on to his plate and took rice as it was passed around. Then he got up from the table. ‘Sorry, but I’m not very hungry. I’ll just …’ But whatever he intended to do, he was keeping it to himself.

‘Oh dear, he’s taking it badly,’ Jan said. ‘And I always thought he was so strong.’

‘I don’t think I’m hungry, either.’ Katy sat back in her seat.

‘Nor am I,’ Jan had to admit.

And yet the food managed to disappear somewhere; not a scrap was left after a quarter of an hour.

‘Life,’ Jan said to herself as she stacked the empties, ‘goes on regardless.’ But she was deeply concerned about Paul.

Dora Saxby wanted none of Bert’s personal effects. ‘Just his old pullover, pipe rack, and foot stool,’ she said, having given the matter careful thought.

Susannah gathered the items together, thinking how appropriate Dora’s choices were. Nothing else could have brought the man’s presence back to earth more assuredly than those shabby possessions.

She glanced out of the window, as she often had done at home when lost in thought, and encountered a row of red chimneys. They gave her a shock, used as she had been to seeing fields, and she was smitten with painful awareness – with the enormity of what she had done.

Had she really walked out of her previous life, her beloved cottage, for this? She glanced around. There was no need to look further than Bert’s threadbare curtains to experience the vast differences in her environment.

Whereas the cottage had been pleasantly antiquated, Bert’s two up, two down was decrepitly old; whereas signs of maturity had there been welcomed – and even manufactured at times for the sake of consistency – here they were causes for concern. Here, if surfaces looked stressed and parched of paint, it wasn’t the result of expertise and expense; it meant something had to be done – and very quickly – if the place wasn’t to fall apart.

Susannah sighed at the amount of work ahead of her.

‘I only want to empty one or two rooms,’ she had told Dora the day she arrived, ‘so that I have space to do my work.’

‘Clear the lot,’ the woman told her grandly, making a drastic decision. ‘I think, after all, that when you’ve finished with the place I’ll sell it; and that will be much simpler when it’s empty, I believe. I only wish I could help you with sorting it all out.’

But help from her was out of the question. Her husband still clung to life – if such it could be called, for he was in a very bad way – and he needed her full attention. Uncle Bert’s old neighbour, however, claimed to have plenty of time to spare.

‘I’ll give you a hand, Susannah,’ she said, wrinkling her nose with a sniff. She didn’t quite approve of Dora Saxby, who was standing close by at the time.

‘That’s … very kind of you, Mrs Wardle,’ Susannah managed to say. She hadn’t bargained on having to clear the whole house, and something told her that Mrs Wardle wouldn’t prove to be the biggest help she could have wished for.