The Full Legacy Page 5

  The distraction was only temporary.

  ‘Well?’ demanded Mary again.

  Suzanne was furious, as well she might be, being questioned in public like that. ‘For goodness sake,’ she hissed. ‘I’m not working late tonight. I’m here, aren’t I?’

  ‘How long for?’

  ‘Not much longer, I’ll tell you, if you carry on like this.’

  I couldn’t believe it. Their relationship was breaking down in front of us. I closed my eyes and wished I could be a million miles away.

  Ros glugged her drink down in one. ‘Well,’ she said, yawning and stretching noisily. ‘Don’t know about the rest of you, but this little yuppie’s got to get up for work in the morning.’

  ‘Me too,’ said Kay, unfurling herself from her chair and leaving her still full glass on the side without a second glance. ‘Thanks for a lovely evening you two.’

  ‘Gill’s just arrived,’ said Mary ominously.

  I was also just about to leave.

  I put my hand on her shoulder. ‘I’m sorry love,’ I said quietly. ‘You two need to sort this out and you don’t need an audience. We’ll catch up tomorrow, okay?’

  I followed the other two out onto the street.

  Outside, Kay was laying into Ros with a rolled up copy of The Pink Paper. I wondered whether the newsprint would ever wash out of her shirt.

  ‘You are SO tactless!’ she was saying.

  Ros sat down on somebody’s garden wall and looked glum. ‘I know,’ she said. ‘It’s when I shouldn’t be saying something. I’m like Basil Fawlty in that ‘Don’t mention the War’ sketch. I only have to catch a whiff of scandal and I’m singing ‘Suspicious Minds’ and putting my foot in it all over the place.

  ‘You’re weird,’ said Kay. But I sensed a note of affection in her tone.

  ‘Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I had a traumatic childhood.’

  I very much doubted that. And I was still pissed off with her from Monday.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake Ros!’ I snapped. ‘Really traumatic, I’m sure. What happened? Wouldn’t mummy buy you a pony when you wanted one?’

  Ros drooped visibly and I immediately felt bad for snapping at her – again.

  ‘No actually,’ she said. ‘She did buy me the pony. She paid for the riding lessons too. That way she figured I wouldn’t be around when she was shagging anything and everything that knocked on the tradesman’s entrance.’

  ‘Oh... right!’ I felt even worse now. Especially as I thought she was about to cry. In the dim light, I could see the muscles of her face battling it out for supremacy.

  Kay put her Pink Paper away and sat down on the wall beside her, glaring at me. Then suddenly Ros grinned and slapped Kay on the leg.

  ‘Hah! Gotcha! Only joking!’ she said. And she leapt to her feet and hurtled down the road with Kay in hot pursuit; catching her by the corner and wrestling her backwards to land on a pile of black dustbin bags waiting for tomorrow’s early morning rubbish collection.

  That was when I wondered if Kay was starting to fall for Ros. She’d been with plenty of women since Corinne, but never anybody from our friendship group and never anything much more than a one night stand. Something had always seemed to get in the way of her making a new commitment to anyone. But now, here she was wrestling with Ros like she wanted to kill the woman. The chemistry was undeniable.

  So was the racket they were making.

  It was only a matter of time before a member of The Neighbourhood Watch came out to do his civic duty.

  ‘Some people are trying to sleep,’ he said. ‘There’s pensioners down this street you know.’

  He looked at least eighty himself, standing there in his slippers and paisley dressing gown, peering at us through the gloom and holding a cricket bat in case we were dangerous.

  Instantly I felt like a naughty schoolgirl.

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ I called over to him. ‘They’ve just had a bit too much to drink. I’ll sort it.’

  I headed towards the ungainly heap of arms and legs. It was hard to tell where Ros ended and Kay began.

  ‘Can’t take you two anywhere,’ I muttered.

  Our accuser huffed himself back into his house.

  ‘Sorry!’ I shouted again, after his retreating back.

  They both snorted with laughter as I helped them struggle back onto their feet.

  I figured I’d better help tidy up the mess, particularly as they were convulsed with giggles and unable to help themselves.

  ‘She started it,’ they said in unison, before collapsing in helpless gasps of laughter again. I picked a teabag off Kay’s back before attempting to shove a sticky baked bean tin back through the hole in one of the bags.

  ‘If I get tetanus, I’m suing the pair of you,’ I grunted.

  ‘Oh Gill, take a chill pill!’ Kay guffawed.

  And Ros collapsed into giggles again just because it rhymed.

  Suzanne

  The next morning I phoned Suzanne at work.

  ‘Sure you don’t want to talk to the boss?’ she asked, in a tone that was as brittle as cinder toffee.

  ‘No, I want to talk to you. Any chance of lunch?’

  ‘Okay.’ She was being very cagey.

  ‘How about Cranks?’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘One-ish?’

  ‘Make it half past. Mrs Shaw’s given me enough work to sink a battleship.’

  I wondered if ‘Mrs Shaw’ was within earshot. Something in Suzanne’s voice told me that she might be.

  ‘I should think so too,’ I said, trying to keep it light. ‘There’s nothing worse than secretaries lolling around offices, filing their nails and making extra dust for the cleaners.’

  Suzanne, clearly, was not amused. ‘Huh!’ she said... That was it – Just ‘Huh!’.

  And then she put the phone down.

  But she met me at the café bang on time.

  And we managed to find seats, despite the lunchtime crush.

  Suzanne bought salad and a roll. I had black coffee and a dish of trifle.

  ‘Your diet’s terrible,’ she said.

  ‘I know, I don’t get many treats in life.’

  ‘Not even Saturday night?’ Her blue-grey eyes were sharp as she glanced at me. Her hands – busy with her knife and fork, were shoving bulgar wheat and bean sprout salad around her plate with rapid aimlessness. ‘Actually,’ she said. ‘Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.’

  This was a relief. I took a deep breath.

  ‘How did things go with Mary after we’d left last night?’ I asked.

  ‘How do you think?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’m not surprised she’s feeling insecure though. There’s a hell of a lot of speculation going on about you and Turner.’

  Suzanne looked sulky and said nothing. I could feel her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

  ‘Thing is,’ I said, measuring my words very carefully. ‘I don’t know whether to believe it myself.’

  ‘Believe what you like.’ Suzanne finally got round to putting some salad in her mouth, effectively shutting herself up for a while.

  ‘Of course,’ I said. ‘Turner says there’s nothing going on.’

  Suzanne swallowed. ‘Well then,’ she said. ‘If Turner says there’s nothing going on, there’s nothing going on.’

  The anger was leaking into her voice now. And I could hear the brittleness again, unfamiliar and unsettling.

  I watched her carefully, trying to understand.

  ‘Look,’ she said. ‘If Mary can’t handle me working with someone like Turner that’s her problem. She’s turning into such a neurotic old cow, I’m getting to the stage where I don’t care what she thinks anymore.’

  I don’t know why I was shocked, but I was.

  ‘You two were really happy once,’ I said, staring down at my trifle.

  ‘Well, God knows we’re miserable now.’ Suzanne raised an eyebrow as she half-quoted Morrissey. ‘Y’know Gill, I reckon you must have
read too much Barbara Cartland when you were a teenager.... So this is going to surprise you... but love isn’t always about living happily ever after. Sometimes it’s about waking up morning after morning and wondering how you’re going to keep up the pretence that everything’s okay for another day. God knows, I’m still really fond of Mary, but just lately she’s been a right royal pain in the arse and I certainly haven’t fancied her for years. Funny thing is... it took me ages to even accept that myself.... Recently, we’ve only really made love because she still wants to and she feels hurt and rejected if I don’t. After a while, it’s hard to keep on doling out that kind of charity. I’m getting to the stage where I only have to see that pathetic, yearning look on her face and I feel sick.’

  She balanced her knife and fork on the side of her plate and looked up to make eye contact again. I thought she was going to add something. Then she looked as if she could hardly even be bothered trying to explain it to me. She made a semi-disgusted ‘Phah’ noise and focused her attention firmly back on her lunch.

  ‘I don’t even know why I’m telling you this,’ she muttered. ‘How can you even begin to know what that feels like?’

  She meant, of course, that in her eyes, I was never likely to be the one to get tired of anybody. I picked up my spoon and began to eat, trying hard not to be offended.

  The trifle tasted good now I’d got round to trying it. It was probably even quite healthy. It had real fruit in it – apples and oranges and stuff. It was getting increasingly hard for me to swallow though. I knew Suzanne was being honest, and I thought, really, I ought to respect her for that. The way she was doing it bothered me though. I kept thinking about Mary and how hurt she’d be if she could hear this. And deeper than that, even, I kept thinking how hurt I’d be if I thought anybody would ever say anything like that about me.

  Around us, life went on. The day was hot. The smell of wholesome cooking vied for airspace with the bitter tang of freshly ground coffee. People talked with varied degrees of volume control.

  ‘I think I’ll settle for Jeremy,’ said one particularly plummy woman to her companion. ‘He is more my intellectual equal.’

  ‘A male baboon brain,’ muttered Suzanne. ‘How terribly bloody marvellous!’

  I knew that I was only just beginning to see the full force of her anger and frustration. She was strung out like a sleek and disgruntled animal in a cage. I watched as she crunched viciously on her salad.

  I should have made my excuses and fled back to work right then. But something drove me on. ‘If you feel so trapped,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you just leave?’

  Suzanne threw me a look of utter contempt.

  ‘Because,’ she said. ‘I’m terrified that she’d throw herself under a bus or something.’

  I recoiled inwardly, shocked. All those years together, and that was what kept her there?

  The dark, heavy paranoid feeling was almost familiar now as it writhed and twisted through my guts.

  ‘Don’t be daft.’ I said, more to reassure myself than anything else. ‘Nobody’s that important to anyone else.’

  ‘Oh yeah? Well, that’s fine coming from you, after the way you clung onto Corinne.’

  This is what happens when you corner people.

  I gasped.

  Suzanne’s eyes held mine as I struggled to get back to myself. Her glare was icy.

  In retrospect, I wondered why I’d done it, asking to speak to her that day. I knew how angry she was about Turner. So maybe that was the whole point. Maybe I knew that, just for once, someone was angry enough with me to tell me the truth.

  I fought back tears as I struggled to regain my equilibrium.

  ‘I never did.’ I protested, knowing in my heart that I had.

  Suzanne knew it too, and smiled on her victory lap.

  ‘Corinne was terrified to leave you,’ she said. ‘She thought you’d fall apart.’

  Finally, I found my voice. I tried to keep the tremor out of it but I knew I was going to have to talk fast before the tears overwhelmed me.

  ‘Well,’ I said, hardly recognising myself anymore. My eyes were burning. I could almost have choked on the lump in my throat. I felt my mouth contorting as I got the final sentence out.... ‘I really wish she had... Because if she had... maybe she’d still be alive today.’

  And the trifle, which had been so delicious only a moment earlier, seemed to turn to ashes in my mouth.

  Michelle found me sobbing in the changing room.

  ‘Bloody hell!’ she said, staring at me in horror.

  ‘Sorry.’ I snuffled hastily into a soggy square of kitchen roll, then glanced at my reflection in the mirror, convinced that I must have snot all over my face. I didn’t, but I looked a mess – red and blotchy and waterlogged.

  Michelle sat down beside me and patted my hand gingerly. ‘What on earth’s the matter?’ she asked.

  I felt sorry for her. She’d always been uneasy with strong emotion.

  I shook my head. ‘I had a row with Suzanne.’

  Michelle looked vague. ‘Which one’s Suzanne?’

  She didn’t mix much with my gay friends. Apart from Kay, who she slightly, subtly disapproved of, she didn’t know any of them very well.

  ‘The one who lives with Mary,’ I said. ‘They’ve been together for years. She used to be quite a good friend of Corinne’s.’

  ‘Oh yes?’

  I knew immediately what she was thinking.

  I shoved it to the back of my mind. I didn’t even want to consider that one.

  ‘She said Corinne only stayed with me because she was scared I’d fall apart if she left.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Michelle, not knowing what to say.

  ‘It’s true isn’t it?’

  ‘No.’ She busied herself with tidying the make-up trays. ‘It was more complicated than that Gill, you know it was. And you know what I thought of Corinne. I told you often enough at the time.’

  Yes, I remembered, comments like, ‘She’s making a fool of you... Why do you put up with it?... You deserve better... You’re a total mug if you believe that one...’

  ‘I’ll make you a nice cup of coffee,’ she said now. ‘Cheer you up a bit, eh?’

  I doubted that it would but I nodded anyway, grateful for her kindness.

  When she’d gone, I tore Turner’s card into tiny pieces and threw them in the bin. No way could I handle the complications of pursuing a relationship with this woman right now. No way!

  Hope

  In a weird sort of way though, the relationship seemed to be pursuing me.

  Thursday I worked late before going on to teach my night class. I was reading through my notes from the previous week, psyching myself up for the group. It was getting near the end of term and everyone was twitchy about their year-end assignment. I was also feeling guilty that I’d forgotten to phone Mary the day before. I wondered if I’d have time to phone her now before class.

  Michelle crashed through the louvres.

  ‘Hey, Gill, you know you thought you were going to be getting away early tomorrow afternoon?’

  ‘Ye-es.’ She’d booked somebody in, I knew it.

  ‘I’ve just had a call from somebody who wants a rush job.’

  ‘Well, I hope you referred them to the opposition.’

  I was inclined to dig my heels in about this one. It had been a long week and I’d felt tired before I even started.

  Michelle looked sheepish. ‘I tried. She was adamant though. It had to be you and it had to be tomorrow.’

  ‘What is it then?... Bouncing baby?... Boudoir?... Oh, please God don’t let it be a wedding or I’ll be working till midnight!’

  ‘Boudoir... A Mrs Shaw... Say’s price is no object.’

  My heart leapt, and I knew I was in trouble.

  ‘Must be her hubby’s birthday next week,’ I snarled, trying to act normally.

  Michelle didn’t seem to notice that my hands were shaking.

  ‘Anyway,’ she said. ‘I booked her i
n for three o’clock. It won’t muck up your weekend too badly, will it?’

  ‘S’pose not. I’ll just have to phone up and cancel afternoon tea with Sharon Stone again.’

  ‘Oh well... you know what they say.... “Treat ‘em mean - keep ‘em keen”,’ Michelle grinned. ‘It’s important though, not to turn away business, isn’t it?’

  I don’t think she expected an answer. If she did, she didn’t wait to hear it. She was already striding off down the salon... ‘See you tomorrow,’ she yelled. ‘Don’t forget Mrs Ferguson’s poodle at nine thirty.’

  ‘Okay. I’ll remember to set my alarm.’

  The door slammed, leaving the entrance bell tinkling away into the emptiness.

  I was surprised at how relieved I felt. Turner had taken things out of my hands and outmanoeuvred me very effectively. Maybe now I could just stop fighting for a while and let her take over.

  I went to my night class with a lighter heart. And that night I slept well for the first time in days.

  The Shadow

  Kay had never seen me in agonies about what to wear before.

  She came into my bedroom to see if she could borrow a tenner and stared in amazement at the pile of clothes on the bed.

  ‘You having a clear out?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know what to put on.’

  Even I could hear the desperation in my voice.

  She looked at me as if I’d gone mad.

  ‘You’re going to work Gill – anything will do.’

  I wondered about the oversized white T-shirt I’d bought for a party earlier in the spring. It had quite an unusual cross over neckline. I’d only worn it once, so it was still looking crisp and white. I could wear pale blue cotton jeans under it.

  ‘How about this?’ I held it up against me.

  ‘Fine.’ She gave me a curious look. ‘You meeting somebody for lunch or something?’

  I knew what she was thinking. There had been a message on the answerphone yesterday. ‘Hi Gill, it’s Georgie... Sorry to miss you at Su and Mary’s last night. I understand now about Saturday. Fancy to get together for a drink sometime?’