Fat Girl Slim, page 6
There’s a couple of youngsters who clean, they fit it around their college hours and they started at the same time as me but apparently the students never last long as it’s too much like hard work, according to Rita. Then there are a couple of retired ladies who do it to supplement their pensions, crimplened and twin-setted they always look far too smart to get their hands dirty. Their hair always looks freshly washed and set and they always have lipstick on too.
Doris the blonde and I have become quite friendly. The first Friday after I handed my time sheet in I came out of the door and she was standing in front of the shop window smoking a cigarette so I stopped to ask her how she was getting on. We talked for so long that we ended up going to Joey’s Café for a cup of tea and now we do it every week. Mother asked why I was so long and I told her that we have a weekly update meeting about health and safety. She’d only make it her mission to spoil it if she knew I had a friend; she wouldn’t be able to stand it. She’s not happy about the mythical health and safety meeting though; says it’s not right and that I should get paid for it.
So I can give it all to her.
True to form, I’d only been at Moppers for two weeks when she put my rent up to thirty pounds a week. She used the latest electricity bill as the excuse, said it had gone up astronomically and she’d struggle to pay it. All lies of course but what can I do? No doubt the next bill that comes in will be the excuse to put it up again.
Doris thinks I’m really lucky – I haven’t been completely truthful about Mother. I haven’t exactly lied, I just haven’t told her what Mother’s really like. She says she’d give her eye teeth to be in my position – the run of a big house and minimal rent. She imagines Mother as a sweet little old lady confined to her room who just has to be fed now and again. I don’t disillusion her; Doris is the first friend I’ve had for a very long time and I don’t want our friendship to be all about Mother .
Doris lives with her boyfriend, Charlie. To quote Doris, he’s a hot shag but a bit of a wanker. He never has a job for very long and is always getting ‘laid off’ which I think means he gets the sack. She says it’s because he won’t get out of bed in the morning. He gets the sack, gets a new job, makes an effort for a few weeks, then starts missing days and gets the sack again. She grumbles about him but I think she loves him or else she wouldn’t put up with him, would she?
She asked me if I had a boyfriend! I was flattered – as if anyone would look at me. And do you know what I did? I lied. I didn’t say I had a boyfriend now but I pretended I used to have one. I even gave him a name, Bruce; don’t even ask where that came from. My only excuse is I was thinking on the hoof, so to speak, and actually I do know where it came from; I’d been cleaning at Mrs Forsyth’s and I thought Bruce, that’ll do. Doris did ask me if he was Australian and I told her no, but his mum was.
I sort of surprised myself with how easily I lied; with a bit of forethought and planning I could be quite good at it.
Which will be useful when I start my new life as the new me because there’s no way I’ll be advertising the fact that I used to be a gigantic loser.
I’ve pounded along the same streets four times now so I stop under a streetlamp and look at my watch, 11:35 I’ve been running for an hour and twenty minutes. My legs are tired and I can feel the sweat dripping down my back but I feel so good; so alive.
I reluctantly head back in the direction of The Rise towards home. If I stay out any longer I won’t be able to drag myself out of bed in the morning. Running is becoming an obsession, if it wasn’t for Mother I could run all night. It’s just coming up to midnight as I unlock the front door and let myself in. I close it gently and quietly lock it.
‘ALISON!’
Mother’s shriek makes me jump, she’s normally fast asleep from around nine in the evening until at least eight o’clock the next morning.
‘Alison! Are you there? Have you just come in?’
I quietly slip my feet out of my trainers and tiptoe into the lounge. I pick up the throw from the back of the sofa and wrap it around myself then pull my hair out of its pony tail and mess it up.
‘Mother?’ I call feebly trying to make my voice sound as if I’ve just woken up.
‘Are you coming upstairs or do I have to shout all night?’
I climb the stairs, frantically trying to calm my breathing. I open the door to Mother’s room to be greeted by the sight of her sitting up in bed with her bedside lamp on.
‘I’ve been calling you for ages, where have you been?’ She looks at me accusingly.
‘Fell asleep, Mother.’
‘Why didn’t you hear me? I could have died up here.’
Oh God. I hope this isn’t going to develop into one of her episodes; we’re overdue for one.
I walk over to the bed and start smoothing the bedclothes and tucking her in.
‘Get off me!’ she bats my hands away, ‘I’ve got one of my heads and I need to take my pills and YOU never left me a glass of water.’
I look at the bedside table; she’s right, no glass of water. A stupid mistake which I seem to be making more of lately.
‘Sorry,’ I say sweetly, ‘I’ll get you one straight away.’
I dash downstairs and run her a glass of water then rush back upstairs and present it to her.
She takes it without comment and I undo her bottle of painkillers and hand her two. She swallows them and takes a long drink of water and then hands the glass back to me.
‘Have you been out?’
‘Of course not, Mother. Where would I go?’
I can see the struggle on her face; she doesn’t believe me. She thinks I’ve been out but the rational part of her knows that I have no friends and nowhere to go.
‘You’ve not been seeing men, have you?’
I laugh; a genuine laugh because I can’t believe she could even think that .
‘Of course not, Mother, whatever gives you that idea.’
‘I thought I heard the front door. You haven’t had anyone down there, have you? You know I don’t like people coming into my house.’
‘Of course no one else was down there! I think I maybe had the TV on too loud so I didn’t hear you.’
She studies my face and I try not to squirm; she’s done this ever since I was a child and has an uncanny knack of knowing when I’m lying, when I’m trying to hide something. Despite my developing lying skills with other people it’s still hard to fool Mother.
‘You’ve changed,’ she states flatly, and I wonder if she’s noticed the weight loss. ‘Ever since you took that cleaning job, you’ve not been the same.’
‘I haven’t changed, Mother, I’m just the same,’ I say. ‘Shall I plump your pillows up for you?’
She doesn’t answer but moves forward and I plump the pillows and she settles back and I tuck the coverlet around her. Her mouth is set in a grim line and she doesn’t take her eyes off me.
‘Is that okay, Mother?’
She says nothing but looks at me suspiciously and I make a mental note to be more careful.
‘Sleep well, Mother.’ I turn out her bedside light. ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’
She doesn’t answer and I’m in the doorway when she speaks.
‘First thing tomorrow I want you to ring that stair lift man, the one that gave us the quote. I need to be able to get downstairs.’
I turn around and look at her, struggling to keep the horror from showing on my face .
‘And don’t be thinking you can put me off because you can’t.’
I open my mouth like a gaping goldfish but nothing comes out.
‘Because,’ Mother pulls herself up on her elbows, ‘I don’t trust you my girl, you’re up to something and I need to get downstairs so I can keep an eye on you.’
Oh no.
No, no,no,no,no.
Chapter 7
I t’s not nice to profit by misfortune but I can’t say that I’m not glad that Rita has rung in sick. Veronica asked if anyone would like to do extra shifts for a few weeks, possibly longer, and I shot my hand up in the air and shouted ‘Me please’ before anyone beat me to it. I felt a bit foolish as soon as I’d done it because everyone looked at me as if I were a proper idiot – putting my hand up like that as if I was still at school. Anyway, I’m not going to worry about that because I got an extra shift and I’m going to be cleaning Bella’s house. I said I could do a Monday if that was any use as I knew that was the day for Bella’s clean, I can fit it around Mrs Forsyth’s. The two twin set ladies took the rest of her shifts but they didn’t put their hands up like a couple of school kids, they had to be cajoled into it as no one else was really interested.
I’m so excited, it feels like it’s meant to be.
I sort of knew it was going to happen, strange though it sounds. It was just a matter of time.
I know it must sound trivial and a bit weird, but knowing that I’m going to be cleaning Bella’s house makes me feel closer to her. I already feel like she’s done so much for me even though she doesn’t know it – if I hadn’t seen her that day then I wouldn’t be where I am now. I’d still be stuffing my face and getting fatter and fatter; I wouldn’t have even thought about getting a job and I wouldn’t have a plan .
I had a bad night last night though, I couldn’t sleep for thinking about that bloody stair lift. The thought of Mother being able to get downstairs is unbearable and it simply cannot happen. I won’t be able to do a thing if she’s downstairs with me; I’d have to hide my laptop away, I’d never be able to watch anything that I want on television again and as for running – she’ll never allow it. I’d be banned from leaving the house completely and made to sit with her and watch quiz shows all night. And then there’s the garden; she’s under the illusion that I maintain it. The thought of her reaction to seeing the garden is enough to drive me straight to the biscuit tin. I’m fitter now and I probably could get out there and wrestle it back into some sort of shape but that would impact on my running.
And anyway, I don’t want to.
And what if she gets it into her head that if she can get downstairs she can get in the car and I can take her shopping with me? Visions of me pushing her around Foodco in a wheelchair while she regally chooses the food kept me awake for hours; no more microwave meals.
Oh God, the microwave, that’ll have to go too.
My life will be hell .
No. It simply cannot happen. I’m going to stall her for now, at least all of those sleepless hours were useful for formulating a plan of sorts. I’m going to pretend to Mother that I’ve already made a phone call to the stair lift people. I’ll tell her that as it was over three months ago since they measured up they have to do a fresh quote and the earliest they can come to do it is two weeks’ time. She won’t like it one little bit and I’ll just have to hope she doesn’t decide to phone them herself.
Maybe the telephone extension in her room will develop a fault, which might be a good idea anyway as I’m never too sure whether she’s listening in or not. I’ll have to wait until she’s in the bath and do something to it, disable it somehow.
‘We going for a coffee, Al?’
‘What?’
‘Coffee? You alright? Everyfing alright?’ Doris is looking at me with concern.
I laugh, ‘Yeah, course it is, sorry, I was miles away.’
Moppers tiny office empties rapidly, time sheets deposited and wage queries dealt with. I tuck the sheet of paper, with Bella’s address and cleaning hours that Veronica has given me, into my bag. I don’t need the address; I’ve driven around there many times on my way back from Foodco. I’m not stalking her or anything weird like that, I just like to look at the house, imagine how fabulous her life is.
Imagine if my life were like hers.
Doris and I come out of Moppers and wander down to Joey’s Café. It’s my turn to get the drinks and I go up to the counter while Doris bags the table by the window.
I pay for the teas and take them over to the table and put them down, careful not to spill them, then slide into the seat opposite Doris. She watches me with a thoughtful expression as I sit down.
‘Penny for them?’ I say.
Doris heaps three spoonsful of sugar into her tea and stirs it .
‘I was watching you as you brought the teas over.’
‘Were you?’
‘Yeah I was. I can see a big difference in you – how much have you lost now?’
‘Getting on for three stone.’ I can’t help the big smile on my face, ‘probably got another four to go.’ Nearly halfway there.
‘You should market your diet, I’ve never seen anyone lose it so quick.’
‘Starving myself and running until I drop – don’t think it’d be that popular, most people want to lose weight without doing any exercise or eating less.’
‘You’ve done it though.’
‘True. But it’s taken me a long time to realise that I could only do it if I changed my whole attitude and stopped stuffing.’
Doris laughs, ‘So who’s the lucky bloke then? You’ve got to be doing this for a bloke, innit? Otherwise why would you be bovvering?’
‘No, there’s no bloke, honest.’
‘Liar, there’s always a bloke behind it.’ She leans forward. ‘Or are you getting ready to meet someone, a new you sort of fing?’
‘Maybe.’ I shrug. ‘But I’ve a way to go yet.’ Bella’s my secret; Doris wouldn’t understand how Bella has changed my life, changed the way I think. It’s all black and white to Doris, she’d probably think I’m a lesbian and even if I could convince her I wasn’t she’d definitely think I was a complete weirdo or a stalker.
‘You’ll get there,’ Doris says confidently, ‘cos you’re determined, I can see it, you’re, what’s the word?’
I shake my head, ‘I don’t know. ’
‘Motivated!’ she sits back, pleased with herself, ‘That’s the word, motivated.’
Maybe I
✽✽✽
‘Two weeks! Why do they need to come back and re-measure? The house hasn’t changed, the stairs haven’t changed, I’ve never heard such complete nonsense.’
‘That’s exactly what I said to them but they’re insisting on a new survey.’
‘Ridiculous, I’ve a good mind to ring them and give them a piece of my mind.’
I thought she might say that so I’ve taken the precaution of leaving the phone off the hook downstairs. Just in case.
‘Good idea,’ I say in a positive tone, ‘Shall I help you have your shower first? You’ve plenty of time, they don’t close until five.’
She ponders this for a while; she usually likes to have her shower at around ten o’clock in the morning but we’ve had to change this to accommodate my cleaning job. She’s not happy about it but as I’ve told her I can’t pick and choose when I clean other peoples’ houses. Actually, I can, but she doesn’t know that.
She harrumphs and looks at the clock as if it’s going to tell her what to do. It’s nearly lunchtime because of my Friday catch up with Doris.
‘Okay. I’ll have my shower first otherwise it’ll be bedtime and then there’ll be no point in bothering.’ I can’t see what difference it makes; she goes straight back to bed afterwards, it’s not as if she gets dressed, she just puts a clean nightie on .
‘Okay, you have your shower and after that I’ll make some lunch.’ I go into her en-suite, turn on the shower and make sure the pull-down seat is ready underneath it.
‘Not too hot, mind,’ she bellows at me. As if I need telling.
While the shower is running I push her walker up to the side of the bed and help her up and hold the walker still while she positions herself in front of it. She pushes my hands away as I try to guide her towards the bathroom.
‘I don’t need you to help me! I’ve been managing to get to the toilet on my own while you’ve been out gallivanting.’
Gallivanting. Yes. In Mother’s world cleaning other people’s houses is gallivanting.
‘Once that stair lift is installed I’ll be a lot more independent.’ She shuffles into the bathroom and stops in the doorway and turns her head around and looks at me.
‘You’re not indispensable you know, I can manage perfectly well without you.’ With that she shuffles two more steps and shuts the bathroom door with a bang and I’m left alone in her room.
I stand for a moment staring at the closed door. Why does she hate me so much? What have I ever done to make her so dislike me? I try my best, looking after her.
Well, apart from the microwave meals and looking at her bank account, but that’s not so bad, is it? I try to be cheerful and do it with a smile on my face but maybe she can see straight through me and knows I resent her .
I give myself a mental shake. Get on with it. I don’t have very long.
I pad quietly to the bathroom and place my ear against the door and listen; I hear the splash of the shower as Mother washes herself. She doesn’t hang about; wash, rinse and out, that’s Mother. I tiptoe quickly across the room and rummage around in her bedside cabinet drawer, pushing pill bottles and assorted herbal remedies aside until I find the nail scissors. I trace the lead coming out of the phone down the back of the cabinet to the extension socket behind. Pulling the cabinet away from the wall I stretch the lead to the front and near to the floor, out of sight, I make a small nick in the cable. Unnoticeable unless you look for it and there’s no way Mother going to get down there. I quietly pick up the receiver and listen. Silence, no dialling tone. Mission accomplished. I silently replace the receiver.
