Previously…
Everything had gone so horribly wrong: right
from the beginning really. Trapped with a man who thought it was his right to
complain about everything and never lift a finger to do it himself; whose only
conversation was reading bits of facile nonsense from his newspaper aloud to
her when she was trying to cook a meal, or get the kids ready for bed, or doing
the washing.
“Listen to this…” If she ever heard that
sentence again it would be too soon. And what happens when the children leave
home and she’s left alone with him? She just couldn’t bear thinking about it.
These are things depressions are built on. These are things murders are built
on. And then there’s her latest disaster waiting outside on the kerb. And
tonight? Round two between Beulah and Samuel?
“Can I go and play at Trevor’s?” She hadn’t
wanted to look at his drawing so he had lost interest in her.
“What? Oh yes. Sure. Just don’t be late for
dinner,” she intoned liked a parrot, just saying what a mother is supposed to
say, like some mechanical toy. She wished she hadn’t said it though. It would
actually be best if he was late tonight.
She didn’t want him there when the action kicked off. Bloody men. Bloody
husbands and daughters. They deserve each other.
And now...
In a daze
she made her way upstairs and turned on the hot tap in the bath. Perhaps she
could wash it all away. All her desires, all her unhappiness. She had kept them
under control for so long, surely she could manage a few more years. A few more
years of living death. It had been quite easy to achieve up to now. The
difference this time was the boy. He had gotten under her skin and unlocked
something in her that just wouldn’t go back into its cage. She had tried to
walk away from him like she had walked away from all the
others, but it wasn’t working. He was always there, like a nagging ache,
reminding her that she was human…not an unfeeling machine. Now she thought of
him and her body began to get excited again. She could feel how easy it was to
throw caution to the winds. Perhaps she could just sneak a look to see if he
was still there. No harm or danger in that? Perhaps she should give him a
thrill and parade naked at the open window. Throw caution to the winds. That
would be one for the diary. Some of the excitement was starting to come back now
that she felt safe in her home. She felt her emotions surge inside of her,
dying to come out. She so desperately needed…something…someone. At this moment
she felt like she would go mad if she didn’t get some relief…some loving
contact…someone who would wrap her up in a cocoon and keep her safe and happy….like
her father did. He had always been there for her…hugging her and stroking her
hair when she got into a tizzy…telling her things would be alright. She wanted
him to stroke her again and tell her it was alright. Oh God she missed him so
much. Her legs gave way and she sat down on the edge of the bath, her limbs
shaking with delayed shock and excitement. Why shouldn’t she look for love if
she wasn’t getting any at home? What did she have to lose? Her life was dead
anyway…what would it matter. In her heart she had been divorced a long time
ago. What was she afraid of? Beulah was just about to fly the nest and Joshua
was growing up fast. It wouldn’t be long before he too would leave her - alone
with him.
She dipped her toe into the bubble bath and
admired her skin tone and her slender leg. “What a waste. What a beautiful
waste,” she said, running her hand lovingly down her calf. ‘A body is such a
beautiful thing,’ she thought as she stood up and stepped into the hot water.
An hour later she rose from the depths, steam
rising off her damp skin. Her feet left soft wet footprints across the floor as
she went into the bedroom. She set her towel-draped body gracefully down on the
window-sill and stared at her reflection in the glass pane.
“Mirror, mirror on the wall, why am I not
beautiful anymore?” But there was no answer. Her mind drifted with the
afternoon breeze. Flecks of sunlight on the bedroom floor…butterfly dust on the
windowpane, from all the angels that knocked in vain.
***
“Just say yes. Whatever he says, just say
yes. Even if you don’t mean it – please, just for me, say yes.”
Beulah sat for a long time staring at her
mother.
“What happened to honesty and integrity,”
she asked.
“Nothing happened to them. They just don’t
like it when your father’s around.”
Beulah almost giggled at that, but managed
to keep a po face.
“Anyway, it’s just for the time being.”
“Till when?”
“Till you leave home. Your father, you may
know, is not very impressed with honesty and integrity. He’s more impressed
with obedience and silent subservience.”
“That’s draconian.”
“You don’t even know what that means.”
“It means he’s an old fart.”
“Yeah? Well, remember, your new boyfriend
will be an old fart one day. And sooner than you think. Men become old farts
long before they get old.”
“Well, daddy doesn’t scare me. He won’t do
anything to me.”
“Don’t be too sure. You’ve never pushed him
this far. I would be careful if I were you.”
“What are you two talking about?” asked Joshua
from the doorway.
“Nothing,” says Clara.
“None of your business.”
“It’s about your boyfriend isn’t it? Dad’s
gonna kill you.”
“Joshua, don’t talk like that. He’ll do no
such thing.”
“Did you know that eighty-five percent of
all murders happen between family members?”
“That’s stupid,” says Beulah. “You’re making
it up.”
“Where do you learn things like that?”
“School.”.
Clara shakes her head.
“Anyway,” she says to Beulah. “Just don’t
antagonize your father. Just apologize nicely and promise you’ll behave better
in the future. It’s just a little white lie really…”
“My teacher says a white lie is worse….”
“Yes Joshua, we really don’t want to know
what your teacher says at the moment. Your teacher has never met your daddy.
And have you done your homework?”
Silence.
Joshua found himself unable to say yes,
seeing as he had just said what his teacher said about little white lies.
“Well go and do it.”
Hoisted by his own petard. That’ll teach him
to be so clever.
“I’m not going to apologize. I didn’t do
anything wrong,” said Beulah.
“You were rude to your father.”
“How?”
“By ignoring him and disobeying his orders.”
“You’re on his side aren’t you?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side.”
“Yes you are. You’re ganging up on me.
You’re such a bloody hypocrite.”
Beulah flounced out of the room on these
last words.
‘And that’s what happens when you stick your
oar in where it isn’t wanted,’ she mused to herself. She also knew that this
was just a taste of what was in store for tonight.
“Boy is she in a bad mood,” said Joshua.
“Her and your dad both. Are you still here?”
“Do you think he’s going to give her a
hiding?”
“I think he’s going to try.”
“Are we going to get a divorce?”
Clara couldn’t help but laugh at his
innocent candidness.
“I don’t know dear. I don’t think so.”
“Roger’s family got a divorce, and his
mother cries all the time.”
“I don’t think it’ll come to that,” she
said, but she wasn’t so sure.
“Why is daddy so cross about Beulah’s
boyfriend? Is it because she’ll get pregnant?”
“You know an awful lot for a little boy.”
“Not so little. Roger’s sister got pregnant,
and his mom cries…”
“What about that homework of yours,” she
interrupted him. “And I think it would be a good idea to stay in your room
until I call you down for supper. Okay?”
“Okay,” he said, his mind already on the
pile of comics under his bed.
He was such a good boy, she thought, trying
to swallow the lump in her throat. She loved him very much. And she’d have to
keep a close eye on him if those other two got out of hand again. She hated
Samuel for hijacking her life and making home such a hell. He never treated her
like an equal. They were her children too; surely she should also have a
say in their upbringing. What made him the fucking expert on everything? His
fist made him the fucking expert on everything –that’s what. Brute force
buggers democracy, every woman’s cry of woe.
She could feel herself sinking into a bed of
hatred again. Not good. Now was the time for her to be honest and fair…even if he
wasn’t; but she just didn’t seem to be interested in dredging up his redeeming
features – or any of the good times. She just wanted to hate him today. She
wanted him to be a monster through and through.
Her mother had been just like him, refusing
to let her go out with any boy – calling her a tramp and a slut – a whore. And
she remembered the things she had called her mother in return. She reckoned
Samuel and Beulah were just about at that name-calling stage. Her mother had
literally driven her into Samuel’s arms. She didn’t love him. But he was any
port in a storm.
Suddenly there was smoke pouring from the
stove. Clara leapt for the dishcloth and flung the oven door open but it was too
late. The meat was burnt to a crisp. She’d forgotten to turn the dial down. She
shrugged off her pinny on the way out of the kitchen and grabbed her purse and
shopping bag from the hall table. She opened the front door and stopped on the
threshold.
“I can’t do this anymore,” she said to the
street. “I just can’t do this anymore. I am so tired of………….smiling. At him,
for him, for the world. My chimpanzee smile. Doing my little monkey tricks to
keep them amused and distracted.”
She stared into the empty suburban afternoon
for a long while, and then turned around and went and sat down at her kitchen
table, the smell of burnt roast hanging thickly in the air. She sat quietly and
stared unseeingly at the pattern on the plastic table cloth. She couldn’t take
this tension anymore. She’d had enough. This far and no further.
She waited.
