The More You Ignore Me (13 page)

On
campus, in front of a huge audience of expectant fans, Morrissey called,
‘Hello, Leicester!’ and the band went straight into ‘Pretty Girls Make Graves’.

A
completely neutral, rather nasal voice inquired which service Alice wanted. The
voice had no idea that while Morrissey was singing about Nature playing tricks.
Alice was experiencing the biggest trick Nature could come up with. As the last
breaths sighed from Nan Wildgoose out into the night air, Alice began to lose
her faith in womanhood, along with Morrissey She found herself angrily
resentful that poor old Nan could not have hung on for one more night. And then
she murmured, ‘I’m sorry, Nan. I’m really sorry.

As
unruly girls and unruly boys swayed along to the song, she ran back to the bus
stop to wait.

The
strains of ‘Back To The Old House’ boomed round the hall and Alice, unable to
hear anything except the sounds of the night, just wanted to go home.

The
final song of the Smiths set, ‘What Difference Does It Make?’ was perhaps the
most poignant. Nan had gone, and for years afterwards when Alice heard the
line, ‘and you must be looking very old tonight’, an image of Nan Wildgoose’s
poor crumpled face entered her mind and the terror of the night came back to
her.

A siren
pierced the night as the ironic encore of ‘You’ve Got Everything Now’ was
played and Morrissey shouted, ‘Goodbye. Leicester! Goodbye!’

Back at home in her
bedroom the following day the whole incident seemed like a surreal drug-induced
nightmare.

The
ambulance had taken an hour to find them while Alice sat desperately holding
Nan, trying to be positive in her head but knowing in reality there was no hope
for her. She wanted to phone her dad but had no money and in her despair had
forgotten she could reverse the charges. Besides, she didn’t want to leave Nan
alone and lonely under the rain that was falling faster and harder. They had
had an encounter with a drunk who had mistakenly thought Nan Wildgoose was a
member of his merry band of excessive drinkers.

‘Bloody
‘ell, she’s had a few,’ he said, hands on hips, staring down at Nan and Alice.

‘Piss
off,’ said Alice, feeling the spirit of Nan behind her words.

‘Only
trying to help,’ he said and sauntered off, wobbling and swaying until the
darkness swallowed him.

Eventually
the screeching of the ambulance heralded its arrival and it drew up at the bus
stop. Two chunky men appeared, one carrying a bag, and knelt down beside Alice.

‘Oh,
you poor love,’ said the older of the two.

Alice,
who had held all her fears and distress inside, was unable to keep them under
control because of these kind words and began to sob as if she would never stop.

‘It’s
all right, love,’ said the older one. ‘What’s your name?’ Alice,’ said Alice.

‘I’m
Del,’ said the man. ‘And who’s this lady?’ ‘My nan,’ said Alice. ‘Is she all
right?’

‘Doesn’t
look like it,’ said the younger harder-looking one.

The old
man shot him a look, and more softly he said, ‘No, I’m afraid not.’

‘I knew
it really.’ said Alice and began to cry harder.

‘Let’s
get you out of the rain.’ said Del. ‘We’ll take you to the nearest hospital, then
you can contact the rest of the family’

They
drove through the night and pulled up at a brightly lit casualty department.
Nan was taken inside on a wheeled trolley and left in a side room, with Alice
beside her. Eventually a tired-looking pubescent male doctor came in and asked
her some questions and a kindly receptionist took Alice to a phone on which she
could break the news to her dad.

Alice?’
His voice was relaxed and sleeply sounding. ‘We were expecting to hear from you
much earlier. Have you had a good time? I thought you were going to ring me at
the station and let me know what time to pick you both up from Shrewsbury.’

‘Dad…’
Alice faltered. She didn’t really know how to put it. Finally she said, ‘It’s
Nan.’

‘What?’
said Keith, starting to sound worried.

‘Nan’s
… Nan’s…’ She couldn’t go. on any further. She began to cry again.

The
receptionist took the phone from her.

‘Hello,
to whom am I speaking?’ she said.

Keith
said something at the other end.

‘I’m
terribly sorry,’ said the receptionist, ‘but your mother has passed away’

Keith
was puzzled at the other end of the line and wondered briefly how his mother
had managed to turn up at a Smiths gig in Leicester. At the same time, Alice
was saying to the receptionist, ‘No, it’s not his mum, it’s my mum’s mum.

‘I’m
terribly sorry,’ said the receptionist. ‘It’s your mother-in-law who’s passed
away’

‘Can
you put my daughter on?’ said Keith.

Alice
was handed the receiver.

Alice,
what happened?’ said Keith.

‘Nan
just fell over at the bus stop,’ said Alice, ‘and I couldn’t wake her up.’

‘Oh,
you poor girl,’ said Keith. ‘Hang on there and I’ll be with you as soon as I
can.’

Marie Henty
was drafted in to sit in the little cottage while Gina slept fitfully, dreaming
of being in heaven.

Keith
drove like a maniac through the night and arrived in Leicester at two o’clock
in the morning to find Alice with panda eyes and a face as white as a snowdrop.
He picked her up and held her tight.

‘I’m
sorry this had to happen to you.’ he said. ‘And I didn’t even see Morrissey.’
Alice sobbed. Keith let it pass and after some hellish bureaucratic interplay
with the hospital staff, he and Alice left hand in hand and got into the van.

They
arrived back at five thirty. It was still dark and raining and Marie Henty snoozed
in a chair by the fire, dreaming of Keith kissing her feet.

Alice
had fallen asleep in the van and Keith carried her, staggering, into the house,
thinking back to when she was a baby and how he had done this so many times
after days out at fairs and fetes.

He then
woke Marie Henty who, looking up into his lovely, beneficent face, gave a
little squeak of pleasure as she woke from her dream.

‘Thanks,
Marie,’ he said. ‘You’re released from your duties.’

‘Is
everything OK?’ said Marie, now fully awake.

‘My
mother-in law died in Leicester tonight,’ said Keith. ‘Poor Alice was all on
her own with her.’

‘I’m
sorry,’ said Marie, secretly thinking to herself, one down and three to go.
That’ll make my life easier. ‘Have you told the family?’ she asked.

‘Oh
fuck… sorry,’ said Keith. ‘For swearing,’ he added. ‘No, I hadn’t even
thought of them. God, I’d better get over there.’

‘You’ve
had no sleep,’ said Marie. ‘Can’t you leave it till the morning?’

‘It
is
the morning,’ said Keith, ‘and I think it’s a job better done in a state of
semi-consciousness’

‘Shall
I stay in case Alice or Gina wake up?’

‘Would
you?’ said Keith. ‘I feel like I’m asking you too much.’

‘It’s
OK,’ said Marie. ‘I haven’t got surgery till the afternoon. Go on, off you go,
and I wish you luck.’

Keith
drove the few miles to the Wildgooses’ isolated cottage. The darkness was
broken occasionally by a tepid moon peeping through the clouds but as he turned
into the potholed track that led to the grimy cottage, it disappeared, leaving
just the insipid headlights of the van to guide him.

The
cottage was in darkness.

Keith
realised that if he banged on the door he risked a shotgun blast of the ‘ask no
questions’ variety, but he could not see any way round it. He tried to knock in
as officious a way as possible so it sounded as if someone respectable had come
to call for tea.

A light
went on upstairs and a dog barked, causing some hens to start clucking in a
panicked way.

‘Who’s
there?’ Bert’s pinched face appeared at the tiny window.

Keith
had always rather liked Bert who seemed, underneath, to be a civilised man
caught in a family of rabid animals. He looked so benign that Keith couldn’t
believe he didn’t have a core of goodness hidden under the tacit approval of
the extreme antics of his Stone Age sons.

‘Bert. it’s
me, Keith,’ said Keith.

‘Missus
run off with a train driver in Leicester, has she?’ said Bert cheerily,
expecting some banal news about his wife being too pissed to come home. ‘Hang
on, I’ll be down,’ he said.

The
noise of bolts being drawn back and the door opening was more reminiscent of a
medieval castle than a small cottage in Herefordshire, security put in place by
Wobbly and Bighead because quite a few unsavoury types came looking for them.

‘Hello,’
said Bert and gestured for Keith to come in. Without Ma Wildgoose at his side
he seemed smaller and more vulnerable than usual.

‘What
is it, boy?’ he said when they got into the cramped sitting room.

‘I’m
afraid Violet has passed on,’ said Keith. ‘It happened in Leicester when they
were walking to the show.’

Bert
stared uncomprehendingly at him for a few seconds and then his face crumpled
into that of a small boy and he bent his head, crying silently, the odd tear
leaking out between his dirty uncut fingernails.

‘I’m so
sorry, Bert,’ said Keith. wanting to put his arms round him but holding back
because he was embarrassed. He wondered when Wobbly and Bighead would burst
into the room and try and kill him. Are the boys around?’ He tried to sound
confident, as if he wasn’t shit scared of them.

‘They
were out drinking last night. They won’t be up for hours. I’ll tell ‘em, lad,’
Bert said almost kindly.

He then
asked Keith the sort of questions that revealed just what an innocent he was.
He had absolutely no idea where to go from here, how to get his wife’s body
transported back to them, how to arrange a funeral or how to get his own
breakfast. Keith found himself feeling sorry for him for perhaps the first time
ever as he realised that as a package they were ferocious, but on his own Bert
was just a sad, tired, lost old man who didn’t know how to cope. Perhaps, on
waking, his sons would restore him to his full intimidating glory but Keith
doubted it. The spark had gone out of the Wildgooses and he wondered whether it
could be relit.

‘I’ll
ask May down the road about the arrangements,’ said Bert. ‘She lost ‘er ‘usband
last year. She’ll know what to do.’

‘Call
me if you need anything,’ said Keith, but he knew he wouldn’t; he suspected
Bert had never lifted a telephone receiver in his life.

Back at
home, Keith discovered a quiet house. Alice and Gina were still asleep upstairs
and Marie Henty drooped over the edge of an armchair, looking very
uncomfortable.

‘Off
you go,’ Keith said, waking her. ‘I’ll look after everything here. And thanks,
I really appreciate your help.’

Upstairs,
Alice was penning another letter to Morrissey.

‘Dear
Morrissey, I came to see you in Leicester last night with my nan (don’t ask).
I’m afraid she died on the way.

Then
she wrote. ‘I didn’t know she hated you that much!’ and then put big black
lines through it, screwed the paper up and put it in the bin.

She
started the letter several times but it just didn’t sound real, so in the end,
she left her bedroom, kissing his photo before she went, and found her dad
downstairs in a chair, staring at the wall.

Are you
all right?’ she said.

‘Fine,’
said Keith, rousing himself and going into the kitchen to make their breakfast.
‘But I don’t know how your mum is going to be.’

Gina
reacted to the news with her usual blank expression, uttered the word. ‘Oh,’
and went into the kitchen to make toast, where she sat munching several slices
before she went back to bed.

Right,
thought Keith. That’s that for now.