Queen Mum (7 page)
Authors: Kate Long
*
‘I hope they’re being nice to Juno,’ I said to Tom as he helped me drain the rice. ‘She’s such a sweet person.’
‘So go on, then, how are they managing next door?’
‘Don’t know. Haven’t seen a sign of life since Kim walked up the path at ten o’clock. Have you?’
‘You know I’ve been working in the garage all afternoon. I’ve got better things to do than spy on neighbours.’
Ben came in, sniffing the air. ‘Is tea ready? Or can I have a cheese string?’
‘Yes and no. Stick these forks on the table and go sit down,’ Tom told him.
‘I know they’ll be lovely with Kim, so it’ll be easy for her. Juno ought to win, because she’s such a good mum.’ I tipped the stir-fry onto the plates. ‘But
if they’re mean to her . . . ’
‘If the other family are horrible, then Juno’ll get the sympathy vote. You know that, you’ve seen it in action. There was that dental assistant you told me about on the first
series who cried because the kids kept hiding her stuff, and everyone felt sorry for her and rushed to the phones. She romped home. And she was in every tabloid, afterwards, spouting forth on
manners; you showed me her etiquette column. No, the best way to show up the shortcomings of the new mum is to be ultra-pleasant. Reverse psychology. Not that I’m at all interested in any of
it.’
‘So I ought to be hoping that Lee’s a bit of a bastard?’
‘I give up,’ said Tom, and took the plates through.
It was six days later I got the email.
Lee
– You’ve to take us as you find us. If the Queen walked in here now, I’d be just same with her. I would. I treat everyone alike, me. ’Cause
that’s fair, in’t it? We’re all equal if you strip us down to our underwear.
[Doorbell rings]
Hey up. Here we go.
Juno
– Hi!
Lee
– Hiya. Come in, come in. Smashing. Nice to— Good God, love, is that all your luggage?
Juno
– I’m afraid so.
Lee
– What, all them bags too?
Juno
– Ooh, is this your doggy? Hell-o, sweetie. What’s your name? Oops, ha ha, mind where you’re putting your nose.
Lee
– Get off, Marmite, for God’s sake. Gyaah! Down! Kitchen! Aw, sorry about that. He’s a devil for crotches. Has he marked your trousers?
Juno
– Not to worry, I was going to change anyway.
Lee
– They’ve no manners, dogs. I think he likes you.
Juno
– I think he does, yes.
Lee
– Oh, I see what you mean. Go on, out, you dirty devil! Never mind putting your sad face on. I dunno, if it’s not your kids letting you down, it’s
your animals. Come through, anyroad. Boys? Hey, Chris, Marco! She’s here! Are you coming? They’ll not be a minute. We’ve been putting a fence in at the bottom of the lawn,
where the tree fell down. So, is it what you expected?
Juno
– I’m not sure what you—
Lee
– This.
Juno
– Oh. I think it’s lovely. Lovely practical furniture. And a great view.
Lee
– That’s Belmont on the skyline, the moors. The view’s not so great when you get closer to home. I bet it’s nice where you live.
Juno [Laughs] –
We like it. Hello! My goodness, you two look as if you’ve been working hard.
Lee
– You could have washed your hands, lads.
Juno
– Not to worry. Now, who’s who?
Lee
– Say hello.
Marco
– Hello.
Chris
– Hello.
Lee
– Well? I give up. This is Marco and this is Chris. Men of few words.
Juno
– It’s nice to meet you both. I’ve got two daughters—
Lee
– Hey, wait a minute, where are you off now?
Marco
– Look at a motorbike with Martin. He’s just rang, wants us go with him. It’s over in Farnworth so we won’t be long.
Lee
– Can you not stick around for a while?
Marco
– No, it was in
Loot
. If he hangs about, it’ll be gone.
Lee
– I don’t know, it’s not great timing, is it? Bloody bikes. You’ll turn into a bike, you will. Go on, then. But be back for your dinner.
Marco
– He might want us to go see another, after.
Lee
– Tea, then. Honest. Lads. I bet your girls aren’t in and out like a pair of tomcats.
Juno
– Are they old enough for a motorbike?
Lee
– No. But their mate is. I’ve told Marco I’ll pay for his basic training when he hits seventeen; he’s desperate. Chris is more into cars. Do
your two drive?
Juno
– They’re much too young. Sophie’s the older and she’s only fifteen.
Lee
– Same with Marco. Them two years’ll fly past, you see. Mind you, the lads are very mature for their age, like. Can I get you a cup of tea?
Juno
– That would be nice.
Lee
– I’ll show you the kitchen while we’re at it, I know you’ll want to have a good shufti round all the cupboards. Feel free, have a poke
around. You can bet that’s what Kim’ll be doing at yours. Milk? Tell you what, I normally go out on a Saturday, but I’m staying in today. ’Cause of you, that is.
You’re honoured.
Juno
– I see. Lovely. What do you do? When you go out, I mean.
Lee
– Varies. Car audio competitions, football, scrap-yarding, all sorts. Kim goes off shopping, or round her mum’s or her mates’. We like to do our
own thing.
Juno
– Right.
Lee
– We all fall out if we’re under each other’s feet.
Juno
– Oh.
Lee
– Watch yourself, love. Dog’s just behind you.
Juno
– So what do you do together, as a family?
Lee
– Good question. Let me think. Erm, not a right lot, now you ask. Christmas, holidays, that sort of thing, the normal bash. But the boys are growing up now,
they need their space, and I reckon we’ve done our bit, more than. At the end of the day we’re a family, not a ruddy string quartet.
Juno [To video diary]
– OK, an interesting start. Lee seems nice, fairly chatty, kind of . . . uncomplicated. My room’s fine, lots of cardboard boxes and an
exercise bike right next to the bed, which might come in handy, you never know. No, it’s great, really. I’ve nowhere much to hang my clothes, so I might be doing quite a lot of
ironing over the next fortnight. Looking forward to catching up with the boys again. I might do a pissaladière tonight for us all.
It’s going to be fun. Definitely.
Lee [To video diary]
– I’ll say one thing for her; she’s very tall.
That’s about it.
*
First of all I had a dream that Dad had come back and I was still a little girl. He was wearing a Red Indian costume, headdress and all, and Mum was anxious that we didn’t
mention it in case it drove him away again. Then he turned into Peterson and I realized why I hated him so much. When I woke up, cross and thirsty, recalling the dream became a real memory of the
time Dad had taken me down Great Fold Lane to teach me to ride a two-wheeler. ‘I’ll hold onto you,’ he’d said. ‘I promise I won’t let you fall, trust me.’
So I pressed on the pedals and lurched away, weaved about for a while and fell, breaking my wrist. When I looked back through the tears he was waving at me.
*
Interviewer
– What are you doing?
Lee
– Good question. I’m scraping face-cream out of the kitchen bin. Does that answer you?
Interviewer
– Why is there face-cream in the bin?
Lee
– Because I thought I’d play one of my best jokes on Juno, welcome her to the madhouse, like – and she didn’t appreciate it.
Interviewer
– What did you do?
Lee
– It’s dead funny. Most people would have laughed their socks off. I don’t know why she got so . . . God, look at that. Bloody great hair in it,
now.
Interviewer
– What happened?
Lee
– Eh? Well, what you do is, you scoop out their Nivea or what have you and you fill up the pot with natural yoghurt or summat like that, summat you can eat.
Not squirty cream, because it all goes to nowt. Plain yoghurt’s best. Then you put it back and you go in later when the lady in question’s at the dressing table, say she’s
getting ready to go out, and you go, Ooh, I’m hungry. And you – oh, I should say you have a teaspoon in your pocket – and you whip this teaspoon out and take the lid off the
pot of face cream and dig in. You go, Mmm, delicious. It’s hysterical. Should be.
Interviewer
– Juno didn’t find it funny?
Lee
– Not exactly. She goes, Where’s the original contents of the jar? Because that’s Clarins Super-Restorative-something-bollocks and it’s fifty
quid’s worth. I said, What, in that little pot? I said, You’re having me on. The stuff Kim uses you get about a pint for two ninety-nine. So she goes, I hope you haven’t
thrown it away and I said, No, I put it in a margarine tub. Which was obviously a lie. As you can see. Bloody hell, look at that. Do you think that’s worth fifty quid? It’s got tea
leaves in it, that bit. Never mind, stir it round, it’ll be fine.
*
There’s no point fighting the night; I’ve learned this. So I always get up when I can’t sleep.
I went downstairs in the dark, eyes pricking, and tiptoed across the cold tiles of the kitchen to fill the kettle. No lights on next door. What was Juno doing, now? While I waited for the kettle
to click off I watched the shadows on the wall of the branches outside, remembered how baby Joe would sit transfixed at the sight of catkin-shadows on the blinds of the old house.
‘That’s his television,’ Ben used to say. ‘Channel Tree.’
I poured myself a cup of hot water and took it through to the front room where the computer is. I used to sit here a lot, in this tall, leather-backed chair in front of the glowing screen. There
was one period where I got myself hooked on a bereavement forum, distraught parents posting their stories, swapping tragedy, one awful tale after another. I was thinking it helped. I wanted not to
be the one who stood out in a group, to talk to people who might understand. Tom knew and didn’t approve. But he let me get on with it until I became compulsive and started going on at all
hours.
That was years ago, now.
I clicked on the Internet icon and dialled up, Googled the
Queen Mum
site to see if there was any news, although I knew there wouldn’t be, not while they were still filming. Next I
had a look at Friendsreunited – I am registered, but I haven’t bothered with a profile because what the hell would I say? – but none of my classmates had done anything startling
since the last time I looked. The current Favourites list was all Tom’s bike sites and Ben’s music, plus some soft-furnishing stockists I’d bookmarked yonks ago when we were doing
up the front room. I thought I’d give up the Net as a bad job and go watch dead-of-night TV, but before I shut down I clicked on mail, just to see. Mainly Tom gets bike spam, Ben gets
messages from his online fanzines, and I get advertisements for LaRedoute sales, penis enlargements and opportunities to make
£££!
from collapsing foreign
dictatorships.
Plink. There were two emails; one went into Allison’s Folder and one into the general inbox. I went to mine first.
MOV 232
was the title,
J X
the text. I didn’t recognize the Hotmail address of the sender, mymatemarmite, but I knew for sure who the
J
was. She must have got to a computer after the cameras
were switched off. I read the title again.
232
?
MOV
? Nothing was making sense about that, so I went to the general inbox to see if there was any enlightenment to be had there.
Big Red-Hot Boys Ready 4 U!
said the pulsating banner. A young man with his fringe in his eyes pouted underneath.
The BEST Gay Action!
We hadn’t had gay porn before. I scrolled down curiously. The page was set out like a teen-mag photo-story and the plot was two men in a garage taking their vests off. Towards the bottom
of the page they’d got to the stage of putting their hands down each other’s pants.
To See More, Click Here
it said.
Get It All For Just $1!
Then;
Please note: You have been sent this offer because your email was entered on our database
. Like hell it was, I thought. Bloody scam. Manny had told me how these things worked, the
trawler programs that nicked your address off legitimate sites.
If you wish to unsubscribe, please check the box below and press Send
. Yeah, and then get twenty more from other dodgy
porn-merchants. I added Bigredhotboys to the blocked-sender list, then deleted the page. Finally I went back to Juno’s message, but it was still as cryptic as ever, so I shut the machine down
and went to see what was on television. Gay action indeed.
*
Juno
– See, I can understand there being no anchovies or Parmesan in, but really, who doesn’t keep a packet of bread dough in the back of their cupboard?
Marco
– Is it a pizza?
Juno
– Sort of. It’s called a pissaladière.
Lee
– Oops, mind your language!
Marco
– I don’t like fish. Are they fish?
Lee
– Scrape them off, it’ll be all right. Hells bells, there are a lot of the little buggers, aren’t there?
Juno
– I used mature Cheddar instead of Parmesan because—
Marco
– I hate it when I can see their eyes. Yuk. Like a big pile of slugs.
Lee
– Come on now.
Marco
– Who wants my slugs? Do you want them, Chris? Here you go, yum yum.
Chris
– Get off.
Juno
– If you don’t want them, go and scrape them into the bin. Thank you.
Lee
– He’s never been keen on fish. Although he’ll eat sweet and sour prawns in batter.
Juno
– All right now?
Marco
– Sorted. Yagh, you can still taste them. Slimy slime.
Chris
– Can I have mine without olives?