Human Croquet (14 page)

Later, when Audrey had gone home, Charles asked what stillborn meant and Vinny said, ‘Dead,’ in her usual no-nonsense way. She was helping herself to toast while waiting for a lift to work. ‘Where do dead babies go?’ Charles asked. Vinny wasn’t fazed for a second, ‘In the ground,’ and the Widow tut-tutted at the directness of this statement. ‘Heaven, of course,’ she placated, ‘babies go to heaven, and become cherubs.’ Charles looked at Eliza for confirmation. They never really believed anything anyone said if Eliza didn’t verify it.
Back to the baby shop to be repaired,
she said, to annoy Vinny and the Widow.

‘And if you don’t get a move on for school, Charles,’ the Widow crowed, ‘you might find that you get sent back to the baby shop and get changed for another model!’ Gloating at this finesse, the Widow gave Eliza a triumphant smile and swept out of the dining-room. Eliza narrowed her eyes and lit a cigarette.
One day,
she said,
one day I’m going to kill the old bitch.

Eliza lay coldly in bed next to Gordon. The second-best bed. The sheets in Arden were as stiff as brown paper. She spoke over her icy shoulder at him,
Look at her – why doesn’t she move out and live with Vinny and give us this house, or give us some money from the shop? The shop should be yours, she’s an old woman, why is she hanging on to it? We could sell up and have some money, get away from this bloody hole. Do something with our lives.

A picnic,
Eliza said, stubbing her cigarette out on one of the Widow’s flower-sprigged plates,
it’s half-term, after all, and we’ve done absolutely bloody nothing all week,
and she hauled the old wicker picnic basket out of its hiding-place in the understairs cupboard and said,
We’ll take the bus into town and meet Daddy at lunchtime and give him a surprise.

Ugh,
Eliza shivered, although whether at the house or its absent occupant wasn’t clear. Both probably. Charles and Isobel didn’t like visiting Vinny’s house. It smelt of damp and Izal and boiled vegetables.

Eliza didn’t respond in any way and disappeared into the back of the shop, followed by Gordon on an invisible lead. Mrs Tyndale leant conspiratorially over the counter and said to Vinny, ‘Flighty thing, isn’t she?’ Vinny gave a funny squint smile and whispered, ‘Flirty, too,’ as if Eliza was some strange species of bird.

Eliza and Gordon reappeared, their faces tight and blank as if they’d been having an argument.
We’re going for a picnic, we’ll give you a lift home first,
Eliza said to the Widow. The Widow demurred. She was going to Temple’s for lunch, she said, looking saintly, as if she was going to a church service, as if Temple’s might really be a temple, not a department store restaurant. ‘A picnic in
October
?’ Mrs Tyndale enquired brightly and was ignored by everyone.

Eliza picked Isobel up from the counter and started nibbling her ear. Why, Vinny wondered, was Eliza always trying to eat bits of her children?
What a tasty little morsel,
Eliza murmured in Isobel’s ear while Vinny patted butter aggressively, imagining it was Eliza’s head. If Eliza wasn’t careful, Vinny thought, she’d look around one day and discover that she’d eaten them all up.

The Widow, meanwhile, was wondering if this picnic was perhaps another of Eliza’s impulsive outings. Perhaps she’d come back with another baby. Or perhaps, with any luck, she’d get lost and not come back at all. Vinny slapped a lump of butter down on the marble slab, they would never think of asking
her
on a picnic, would they?
Vinny,
Eliza’s voice purred sweetly,
why don’t you come with us?
and Vinny recoiled in horror – the last thing she wanted to do was go
anywhere
with them, she just wanted to be asked. ‘Yes, do,’ the Widow barked, ‘some fresh air might put a bit of life in you.’
Poor Vinny,
Eliza said, fizzing with laughter.

It was quite a relief to see Eliza cheerful, even if it was only for a moment. She’d been bad-tempered for weeks.
I’m not myself,
she said and then laughed maniacally,
but God knows who I am.

Gordon unwrapped himself from his grocer’s bondage with a flourish and put his gabardine mac and trilby hat on so that he didn’t look anything like a grocer. He could have been a film star with his thick, wavy hair. He stood at the door of the shop and raised his arms to play Oranges and Lemons and said, ‘Off with her head!’ and Isobel ran under the half-arch of his arms. Charles got excited and ran back three times to be executed. Gordon was just about to chop off Eliza’s head as well when she said – very coldly, very Hempstid –
Stop it, Gordon,
and he gave her an odd look and then clicked his heels and said,
‘Jawohl, meine dame,’
and Vinny snapped, ‘That’s not funny, Gordon – people died in the war, you know!’ Eliza laughed and said,
No, really, Vinny?
and Gordon turned to her nastily and said, ‘Shut up, why don’t you, Eliza?’

I don’t know what’s the matter with you,
Eliza said airily and Gordon stared at her very hard and said, ‘Don’t you?’

The shop bell clanged noisily on its springy strip of metal as Gordon pulled the door shut behind them. The Widow and Mrs Tyndale stood behind the glass in the upper half of the shop door and waved goodbye to the car, woodenly like Punch and Judy in their box. As soon as the engine started to
prut-prut-prut
they turned to each other, eager to comment on the behaviour of their not-so-happy young family.

Isobel closed her eyes almost as soon as the engine started. She loved the feeling of slipping down into sleep, breathing in the soporific drug of seat-leather, nicotine, petrol and Eliza’s perfume. They were still driving when she woke up. Eliza looked over her shoulder and said,
Nearly there.
Isobel’s tongue felt like a pebble. Charles was picking a scab on his knee. His face was covered in freckles and the tiny elliptical craters of chickenpox scars. His snub nose twitched at the amount of cigarette smoke in the car. Gordon started to sing ‘Down by the Salley Gardens’ in his nice light baritone. In profile his nose was straight and Roman and from low down on the leather of the back seat you could imagine him flying his plane through the clouds. Occasionally, he cast a glance in Eliza’s direction as if he was checking to see if she was still there.

He braked suddenly as a thin stream of grey squirrel streaked across the road in front of the car and they all jerked forward. Vinny bounced her forehead off the back of the front seat with a little screech. ‘God,’ said Gordon, looking shaken, but Eliza just laughed her funny annoying laugh. Gordon stared at the windscreen for a while, a muscle in spasm in his cheek.

‘And are
you
all right, Vinny?’ Vinny asked herself, ‘Oh yes, thank you, don’t bother about me,’ she answered and was jerked violently again as Gordon revved up the engine and accelerated off.