“You mean to tell me you
had no idea at all?” Nan asked, as she squeezed herself back beside the sleeping
terrier, replacing his head on her lap. ”No little doubts? No female intuition
about anything?”
“None,” I confessed, brushing a tear from my cheek
“What about the
washing? His clothes, were there no little signs?” She straightened her
already neat skirt. “No smell of perfume or lipstick on anything?”
“No. Not that I noticed...”I snapped. Her hard line questioning difficult for
me to take, it seemed to put me down.
Not for the first time, I wondered why I`d come to tell her first, when
all I really wanted was sympathy, someone to tell me how wonderful I`d always
been, and how I deserved better... All she was doing was making me feel guilty
about not smelling the laundry
“Well all I can
say Melanie is... Well I`m surprised at you. Because no man’s that clever.”
“You`re surprised
at me!” I yelled, waking the dog and causing him to slink beneath the chair, he
hated shouting. “It`s not me that’s gone off with a pair of long legs and
...silver nail polish after less than two years.”
Her sharp eyes
zoomed in. ”Silver nail polish?”
“Oh...He mentioned
it once...and no I can`t remember why, because it wasn`t important,” I said
turning away. Why did she make me feel so inadequate?
“He talks about
the colour of her nails and you think nothing of it?” she scoffed, shaking her
head.
“No… It
wasn`t like that. We did talk about her sometimes. Men do talk about women at
work you know.”
“George didn`t,” she
sniffed, adjusting her neck chain and patting the sofa for the dog to return.
“George was
different,” I said, tempted to strangle her, “you know he was?” Did other
people want to murder their grandmothers on a regular basis I wondered.
She just laughed.
Still fussing over the animal. “He was a man wasn`t he?”
“But there was only
Miss Smith at the factory... and he was never in his office anyway.”
“No, he never could
sit for long, I’ll admit,” she sighed. “And he was probably killed because of
it, racing around with orders in the works van when he shouldn’t have been.” She
looked sad just for a second. “But we never talked about Miss Smith much as I
remember, much less the colour of her finger nails.”
“Oh… she wouldn`t wear nail
polish, now would she? She wasn’t interested in anything but her wretched
gardening!” I was losing it altogether and we both knew it.
So she changed
direction. “Do your parents know?”
“No, they`re at the
caravan.”
“Again? Well...”
she pointed a neatly manicured finger nail, “...your mother will make a fuss,
you know she will. She`s always bothered about other people, and what they
might think.”
“No she hasn’t” I
flushed, knowing she was right, I was never comfortable talking to her about my
parents, they irritated each other at times.
“You know she does,”
she chuckled. “She`s one of the `one man and married for life brigade`
and don`t I know it? When I married George, (my third as you know) why she
could hardly look at me.”
“But I wasn`t
married to Paul.”
“No thank goodness,
but even you can`t have forgotten the fuss she made when you moved in together,
and you over twenty? I’d been married for years at that age, a teenage bride.
Your mother was too, not that it’s mentioned much of course.”
“She’s just set in her
ways,” I said, the fight draining from me.
“Old fashioned and
old before her time is what I’d call it but...”
The door bell rang
then, as if on cue and the dog danced up and down on his merry little legs,
yapping loudly.
“That`ll be Tony my
new neighbour, the one I told you about,” she said jumping up. “He rings when
he`s ready and we take the dogs together. He’s taken to the sweetest Rottweiler
you’ve ever seen.”
“A Rottweiler?
Sweet?”
“Of course,” she
laughed, grabbing the dog lead and her raincoat with the imitation fur collar.
“I’ve always thought one of your main problems is that you’ve never really
understood dogs Melanie.” She opened the door to a couple of greeting barks that
shook the house, and was gone. Leaving me to sit and brood and think about
dinner plates.
They were good white
China plates with a fluted edge, a moving-in-together present from my cousin in
Dundee.
Paul’s
shattered, splattering over the yellow cupboard doors and white tiles. Typical.
Mine snapped into three
neat pieces, leaving the spaghetti to ooze onto the imitation oak cushion floor.
He told me as soon
as he walked in, as I was spooning the bolognaise sauce into the middle of the
plates, he liked things neatly done and on time.
He looked tense, his
cheek muscles always gave that away, and I noticed pinheads of sweat on his
upper lip. But the prepared speech was oh so nauseating. You know the one? You
hear characters in soap operas and second rate novels churning it out time after
time.
“I never meant to
hurt you… didn`t intend this to happen… still love you in a way but...she’s
different … the love of my life... ”
I said and did all
the usual too. Almost ignoring him and going for her, calling her
every dirty female name I knew, because she was the easy target, it was
all her fault. Wasn’t it?
I did say things like.
“Oh don’t insult me” and, “come up with one original line please” as well as …
“You used to tell me I was different.” But he was already packing.
Later, I asked myself
where I’d gone wrong, and what I could have done better, but thankfully he’d
filled the big suitcase and gone by then, leaving me to hate myself for asking.
***
Heavy rain brought the
dog walkers back. Tony poked his head around the door to say hello before
hurrying back next door.
We settled with a pot of
tea and a few fig biscuits, laughing at the sorry looking dog, he’d always hated
getting wet.
“I remember Granddad Peter and that collie on the farm,” I said.
“Rex?” she smiled, never forgetting a dog’s name.
“Rex with the one ear up so he can listen if he wants to, and the other ear down
so he can ignore us if he pleases!” we both chanted, laughing as granddad’s
words came back.
“Never apart your
granddad and that dog.” she said.
I nodded.
“He told me he was
offered good money for him, more than once.”
“Do you think he was ever
tempted?” I asked.
“No. He`d never have
sold him.”
“But I remember he did say that if anyone could take Rex - and him go willingly,
they could keep him. Because it upset me as a child.”
“There wasn`t much
chance of that happening.” she smiled.
“No. But at the time I
thought Granddad cruel, much as I loved him.”
“A dog’s no good if he
goes off with anybody, now is he?” she said, watching me.
“No, I suppose not.”
“ And your granddad
wouldn`t have wanted him if he had. There has to be a bond, or it all means
nothing.”
Then sliding her hand
into mine and squeezing it she said “ Don’t you think men are a bit like dogs?
I’ve always thought so, and I love both.”
“You mean loyal and
faithful like Dad… or over fussy like Mr What’s-his-name in the market?” I
chuckled.
“Yes,” she nodded, “He’s
all over you like a puppy.”
“Some aren’t worth the
bother,” I said seriously, “ they stray off…”
“… You mean at the sight
of… long legs and silver nail polish...”she said softly.
“Not worth keeping, are
they Nan?”.
“No, not worth the cost of their biscuits.”
We laughed and
hugged each other, and I knew why she’d always been so special.
“And I love it when you
call me Nan,” she said.
“You’ve never said before.”
“Just thought I’d mention
it. It’s not important,” she said, adjusting her earrings.
“I always thought Nan
made you feel old.”
“Rubbish” she laughed,
reaching for her lipstick. “Tony-next-door has three grown up grandchildren.”
He was also quite
handsome I thought, from the little I’d seen, and she never could resist a good
looking man…
