'Another form of life'

22 DECEMBER 2012 – 3,745 WORDS

CHARACTERS:
Ellie – Wife.
Ian – Ellie's husband.
Vera – Ellie's mother.
Tom – Vera's next door neighbour.
Bert – Ellie's bird-watching neighbour.
Laura – Ellie and Ian's daughter.
Dave – Laura's husband.
Mark – Ellie and ian's son.
Rachel – Mark's partner.
Cheryl – Ian's sister.

'Another form of life'

Preface

This short story has its origins in another short story, ‘Friends’, by a writing buddy. Her story begins with a woman coming home, then the woman reflecting on her less than satisfactory marriage and, finally, a conversation with another woman. I took as my starting point a woman, whom I have called ‘Ellie’, coming home. The other two threads from Cindy’s story are in my story as well.

After writing the first draft in hand, my story needed a title and in the recesses of my mind I had a phrase, ‘another form of life’, which I wrote down and as I typed this version I added a couple of paragraphs of imagined conversation between my heroine, Ellie, and her sister-in-law, Cheryl. Into my head came a reference to ‘The Rainbow’ by D H Lawrence and I got a clue as to where my story title came from. The book has long gone from our home, loaned at some point I suspect, so I bought ‘The Complete Works of D H Lawrence’ as an e-book for £1.95 and began reading ‘The Rainbow’ again and, there, in the first chapter was the phrase I had remembered from many years ago: ‘The woman wanted another form of life than this.’ There is also a reference to ‘Birthday’ by Alan Sillitoe and chapter referred to is number eight.

Before

As Ellie put her key in the front door she remembered. Ian was out. He hadn’t been there to say goodbye, nor to go with her to the railway station. Now he wasn’t there with a welcoming kiss or a warm embrace.

Ian knew how stressed she got when she had to go and visit her mother. Three days, but it seemed like a month. Once upon a time he would have gone with her, even when they were both at work. Not any more. Always some excuse. This time it was a bowls match. Last time it was Harry’s seventieth birthday ‘bash’, whoever ‘Harry’ was!

Once inside the house, Ellie took her overnight travelling bag from her shoulder and placed it on the hall floor, then she gave it the hardest kick she could. ‘That’s for you Ian’, then she did it again, but this time she missed and stubbed a big toe on the skirting board. ‘Fuck you Ian. I wish you were dead’ she heard herself shout as the pain shot up her right leg. That was the one advantage of a detached bungalow in Skegness over a semi in Arnold, the neighbours couldn’t hear her when she screamed expletives. 

They may have been surprised. So would Ian. It was never something she did in company. In the library last week, she had heard Sally from reading group describe her as ‘demure and a bit frumpy’. She had smiled to herself at the time, whilst making up her mind there and then to lose weight after Christmas.  

Ellie made a mental note to buy herself a travelling case on wheels, as she began to remove her coat and realised that her right shoulder was stiff and feeling uncomfortable enough to dim the now receding pain in her toe. 

She cursed her mother for being fitter than she was. Vera, her mum, was seventy-nine going on sixty — three years younger than her one and only daughter. Ellie worked out long ago that her mum must have been fifteen when she got pregnant. She never understood why she was the only one. In fact she wouldn’t find out for another fifteen years. Only when Vera died would all be revealed. If only her mum had agreed to come and stay with them on her 80th birthday, but no, she had to have a party for her mates at the community centre.

When Ellie’s train had arrived in Nottingham, no sooner was she on the platform and there was her mum, waving and smiling, with Tom, her next door neighbour, standing beside her. 

‘Ellie, Ellie, here, here we are’ she shouted as she came forward at a rush and, before Ellie could put down her bag, was plastering her face with big wet kisses, but Tom was there too, taking the bag from her shoulder.

‘You won’t need that where we’re going. Tom’s going to take it home for us. We’re off into town to John Lewis for a spot of lunch and some shopping. I want you to help me choose a new outfit for tomorrow. Tom’s already help me choose a lovely bra and a slip to die for. I’ll show you when we get home’. 

Vera never once paused for breath as they turned and climbed the stairs towards The Tram, by which time Tom had already disappeared. The whole three days continued at the same breakneck pace. Vera was inexhaustible.

Ellie was glad to be home. She needed the rest, even though it meant cleaning up the bungalow. After forty years she knew Ian well enough. If they had stayed in Nottingham it would have been easier, but no, Ian had set his mind on following his mates to ‘Skeggie’ and seeing out his days playing bowls and dominoes, whilst Ellie kept him looking clean and tidy and properly fed.

Ellie was rebellious enough to take up a few activities of her own. Quilting and poetry with a group of ‘girls’ she had come across in the Library. They had been welcoming and were fun. Most were from around Nottingham, who had come to see out their days by the sea — and that much she could understand. Then there was birdwatching with Bert and Ivy from down the road. Of late, Bert and Ellie had been going to the nature reserve at Trafalgar Point on their own, as Ivy was waiting for a hip operation. She liked the intimacy of the hive and wasn’t sure at first if Bert’s thigh brushing against hers was deliberate or not. 

After the third occasion, Ellie put her hand onto Bert’s thigh, pretending it was in response to seeing a Skewer land just a few feet in front of where they were sitting. Bert's response was to place his hand over hers and squeeze very gently. Nothing more had happened, but she was looking forward to their next visit. After all, it was just five days ago. Another two and she and Bert would be going to the Point again.

Ellie would not have thought that twenty-four hours ago. She was thinking about it — a lot — and she was aware of being damp for the first time in years, such was the frisson brought on by Bert, who was a good ten years older, but good looking and fit for his age. He had big hands and she liked that. So what had changed her mind? It was her mum. After the party, a few came back to her mum’s little two up, two down in Radford and they continued talking until, at about ten o’clock, there was only Ellie, Vera and Tom left.

‘We’re be off then.’

‘Mum?’

‘I’m going next door. It’s what we do most nights. I just stayed last night to keep you company, but you’re a big girl now, it’s my birthday, and you’re going home tomorrow.’

‘How long’s this been going on?’

‘Since your dad died and a few years before, after Tom's wife left, not that you heard me say that.’

‘So why tell me now Mum?’

‘I’m past caring what anyone thinks and I’m fed up pretending that Tom and I are just a couple of old folk who totter around together.’

Ellie just sat in her mum’s easy chair, gripping its arms. It was like being at the dentist, gagging to say something, whilst all your energy was directed at clenching. As she looked up at her mum, Vera gave a gentle punch to Ellie’s right shoulder and said ‘You should try it some time’, then winked.

‘Mum!’

As for Tom, he was grinning ear to ear, enjoying every moment of the exchange and then it hit Ellie like a sledgehammer. They were same age! She and Tom. Her dad had died fifteen years ago and Tom had moved in next door not long after she had married Ian and left home. She tried to do the calculations in her head. She had known Tom nearly forty years and for half of that time he had been screwing her mum!

‘Tom, how could you?’

‘Easy. I love your mum. Aways have, ever since she said “Hello” the day I arrived next door and she made it obvious to me that she was interested’.

‘That long? You must think I’m bloody stupid or blind, or both.’

Vera took her daughter’s hand off the arm of the chair and pulled Ellie to her feet before giving her a big hug. 

‘We’ve just been very careful when in your company. 

The neighbours have known for years, so don’t beat yourself up. Be happy for us.’

Ellie could feel her eyes welling up, ‘I am Mum, I am’ and she put her free hand out to Tom, who took it in both hands and stood there looking at them both with that soppy grin still across his face. Why had she never noticed what was now so obvious?

Ellie had never experienced such turmoil. They had seen her off at the station and she thought of nothing else all the way back to Skegness. Mum, Tom, Bert, Ian, Mum, Tom, Bert, Ian, Mum, Tom, Bert, Ian, on and on. She barely noticed the final waves they exchanged as her train pulled away and she only became aware of the fact that she was back in Skegness when the train let out the loud hissing sound it always made when the sliding doors opened and its electric motors finally stopped.

She was glad they lived near to the station. Right now though, the uppermost thought in Ellie’s mind was murdering a cup of tea. Her anger at Ian not being there had been replaced by warm expectations of Bert. She hung her coat on its hangar and placed it in the hall cupboard, slipped off her shoes and put on her felt clogs. It was chilly. Ian hadn’t even put the heating on. She’d unpack later. Something was missing. At first she couldn’t quite work out what it was. Ping ping, ping ping. There wasn’t a sound to be heard.

God, Ian was becoming a pain in his old age. He’d even gone out without setting the burglar alarm, then she noticed the kitchen door was ajar. That was a fire hazard. If anyone knew that it was Ian. He had been a fire fighter for thirty years. At first, Ellie didn’t believe what she was looking at. She thought it was a trick of the light. A hallucination. It was Ian, face down in a bowl of porridge. Motionless. Dead still.

‘Ian Ian’, Ellie heard herself cry, her head in a whirl. 

‘Not this, not this’ was all she could hear herself saying. She turned and almost ran into the hall, where she stumbled over her travelling bag.

‘Fuck, fuck, fuck’ Ellie mumbled to herself, as she clambered to her feet, reached for the telephone and dialled ‘999’. It seemed like forever before she was telling the operator why she needed an ambulance. 

The policeman arrived first — just four minutes she learnt later. Oh, how Ellie needed him. Eric was his name. He could have been Dave, their son-in-law. The constable took charge of not only the situation, but her as well.

After that everything was a blur. It would be some months before the events of that night became something she could remember, by which time Ellie wasn’t sure whose memories they were. She did remember ‘phoning Laura and Dave in Leeds and telling them not to come until the next day. Their daughter was distraught. If Dave had not answered the ‘phone, Laura would have been out the door immediately and with her by midnight. Ellie did not want that and Dave, bless him, understood. Anyway, they had to make arrangements for Robbie and Beth. 

At eight and ten the children were too young to be caught up in their grandfather’s death. Luckily, Dave’s parents agreed to come across from their home in Oldham and be there in time for breakfast.

Mark, their son, worked in an ambulance control centre in Stafford. He was working a shift when Ellie ‘phoned, so she spoke to Rachel, his partner, who she had not yet met. Rachel said she would go and tell Mark in person. Ellie was pleased that Mark appeared to have chosen well, but after they met the next day, she realised that he had had little say in the matter — a bit like Tom really. Rachel was very much like Vera. Tall, slim and confident. Ellie was quite the opposite in every respect.

Bert and some of the other neighbours came to see what was happening and if Ellie needed any help. No one in their friendly little street could have missed the flashing lights outside number sixteen. Eric, the police constable handled them all and stayed with her until it was getting light. He only left after making her breakfast. After he had gone, Ellie ‘phoned her mum and was relieved when she heard Tom’s voice on the other end.

‘Ian’s dead.’

‘Oh Ellie.’

‘I don’t want mum dashing across. There’s nothing she can do and the kids are on their way. I’m expecting Mark soon and Laura’s just called to say they are about to leave Leeds’, then she paused before adding, ‘I’ll phone later. Tell mum I promise’.

Tom was his reassuring self, never hurried, he took his time at everything. ‘I’ll tell her when she’s out the shower. I’ve got to go and do her back. She’ll ‘phone whatever we say. You know that, but I’ll keep her here until you say otherwise’.

‘Thanks Tom, you’re wonderful’ and with that she put down the telephone, surprised at how calm and in charge she seemed. It wasn’t how she expected it would be at all. Ian dying.

The final thing Ellie did for herself was call the Co-op. She was glad she and Ian had funeral plans. By the end of the day, there was little to do, but wait.

After 

The funeral, ten days later, half-filled the crematorium. Ian’s friends, most of whom Ellie didn’t know, turned out in force and his club organised the buffet, for which they wouldn’t take a penny.

Back home afterwards there was just eight of them. Ellie, Vera and Tom, Laura and Dave, Mark and Rachel and Cheryl, Ian’s sister, who was a few months off early-retirement and lived in north London, where she was a ‘Human Resources Manager’ in supermarket distribution centre on the M25. They got on well enough, but she was very different to the rest of the family. When Laura and Mark were kids, they stayed with Cheryl every summer for a week and would explore London on buses. For some reason, Ellie always remembered their excitement at a ride on a 112 down the North Circular Road to Ealing and going into a park where there was one hundred year old parrot called Laura. Mark still went and it as where he met Rachel, who worked for the same company as Cheryl. It was Mark who told Cheryl  that Ian had died.

Because the bungalow had two bedrooms and Ellie didn’t want to be seen favouring anyone, she asked Cheryl to stay with her. The others stayed in a small private hotel at the bottom of the road on the seafront. Late-November was a quiet time, so they had the place to themselves and it was where Ian’s club arranged the buffet. It was all so convenient and that suited Ellie’s disposition perfectly.

Over breakfast the next morning Cheryl said. ‘Ellie, I can stay on a few days if you would like some help. What would you like to do right now?’

Ellie looked up from her toast and wondered if she had yolk from her poached egg dribbling down her bottom lip. It felt like it. ‘Cheryl, can I ask you a question first?’

‘Of course.’

‘Why did you never marry. I’ve never known you have a man in your life’.

‘I didn’t want to be like our…’ Stopping, she put down her hands and rested them on the sides of the table, 

‘I didn’t want to be like my parents. At best they tolerated one another. Dad resented Mum getting pregnant with Ian and always said I was his ‘payback’, that she didn’t want any more kids because she had had such an awful labour, so he made sure she got to repeat the experience with me and she never forgave him — or me, but you know all this.’

‘Well, it doesn’t answer my question if that’s what you mean’ replied Ellie.

Cheryl’s tone of voice changed. The considered vowels were replaced by something more menacing, which immediately had Ellie’s full attention. ‘OK, try this then. I’ve been all me since my first year at school. Our teacher, Miss Barham, was so in charge. She showed no favours and no one dared cross her. She ruled her classroom with a rod of iron without ever raising a hand and by the time I left to go to grammar school, she was the headmistress. I so wanted to be like her’.

Cheryl paused and leaned in towards Ellie. ‘By then I realised that Dad and, forgive me Ellie, Ian were selfish shits who, between them, knocked all the stuffing out of Mum. No wonder she was bitter and dead at fifty. You only get where I am by being selfish. If you’re lucky, or have the time, you can find a man to control, but not me unfortunately. Money attracts money, which immediately puts working class women like me at a disadvantage. The bosses favour their own at work and you only get as far as I have by playing their game, but you’re never one of them’

Then without blinking an eyelid, Cheryl changed the centre of attention to Ellie: ‘Ian hit on you and you succumbed. Do you really think he was worth forty-three years of your life?’

Ellie didn’t know what to say. She sat there twirling what remained of her toast.

'Yes or no Ellie?’

‘If only it were that simple. Look at my mum — Vera — she wasn’t that happy with Dad, but out of it came Tom, who has been part of her life since I left home. Oh, I don't know. Perhaps I can be as lucky’.

‘It wasn’t luck Ellie. Vera picked Tom. She knew exactly what she was doing and, me, I’m going to do just the same when I retire at Easter. Just watch me’.

‘You Cheryl?’

‘Damn right’.

‘I haven’t ever heard you talk this way before’. It’s as if you’re another person’. 

Ellie was hooked, She had never seen Cheryl as anything other than staid — a bit like herself, but far more professional. Someone who had made the most of her education and deliberately chosen one of the few careers where a woman could progress. She on the other hand, had spent her life working in shops, but she did have a small pension from her years with Boots.

It seemed to be getting warm in the kitchen and it wasn’t yet nine o’clock. Cheryl undid the top two buttons of her blouse and pushed its collar away from her neck. ‘I’m just the me you never see. I’m going to shock you now. I’ve never told anyone this before. I’ve always gone on holiday alone and abroad so that I could pick up men. I’ve never enjoyed it most of the time, but when I retire I want to be like Vera and a few others I know’.

Ellie finished her toast and felt herself gulp. She looked across at Cheryl, who was in full flow, and wondered if her ears were already red. She could feel her cheeks filling with blood as she thought about Bert and picking up men. At first, she didn’t notice that Cheryl had stopped and was looking at her.

‘Are you alright? Ellie, I’m sorry if I’ve spoken out of turn’.

‘No Cheryl, it’s nothing you’ve said… Well… Oh fuck it Cheryl, there’s this man who’s taken a shine to me and I’m feeling guilty about it. It’s only happened in the last few weeks. I was thinking about him moments before I found Ian. Apart from holding hands, nothing’s happened yet, but he excites me and I like that…’

‘…And Ian didn’t do that?’ added Cheryl, speaking Ellie’s thoughts for her.

‘Not for years’. Ellie paused, ‘Mum said I should “try it some time”’, then Ellie laughed and waved her hand in front of her face as she continued ‘The night before I found Ian, with his face in the plate of cold porridge. That’s how I knew he was dead. I stuck a finger in the porridge, I didn’t touch him once. I just went and dialled 999.’

She looked at Cheryl and they both burst out laughing. Ellie leant across the kitchen table and put her hand on Cheryl’s. 

‘You got me reading you know. I hadn’t been going out with Ian long and you were always there, in your parent’s kitchen doing homework or reading. It was bigger than this one. Do you remember? You asked me why I was going out with Ian and I looked at you as if you had asked the dumbest question possible, then you gave me a book and said “Read this”. It was The Rainbow by D H Lawrence. I didn’t really understand it until after I was married and had the kids. I must have been twenty and you about fifteen or sixteen. Always doing exams. I was better looking then. I had curves, a waist and good boobies — Ian always called them boobies until he lost interest — I was proud of them and they're not bad still. He was always with his mates and they wore us girls like trophies. I think all of us drifted into marriage. Wendy and Kev were there yesterday, but what happened to the others I have no idea…’.

Ellie was on a roll. she had not been this animated in years. Hardly pausing for breath she continued: ‘…I’ve read most of Sillitoe and love the chapter in The Birthday Party, where, oh you know… Arthur and Avril are standing at the kitchen sink peeling apples and just talking and it ends up with them going to bed. I loved to do that. Never have.'

Finally, Ellie stopped and, patted Cheryl’s hand, which she was still holding. ‘It was you Cheryl who got me reading and I will be forever grateful. Without books, I would have gone mad long ago. I populated my head with other worlds'.

Cheryl was about to reply, when their conversation was interrupted by a knock at Ellie’s front door, which turned out to be Mark and Laura, with Dave in tow. Rachel was also with them, but she had just come to say ‘goodbye’. 

She was going back to Stafford on the train. They all stood in the kitchen, with just Ellie still seated, when Mark put his arms around Rachel’s waist and his head on her shoulder. ‘Mum, we’ve decided to get married in a few weeks. No fuss, just family and close friends’.

Ellie got to her feet and gave Rachel the biggest hug she could. ‘Well I never. Nothing like good news to lift the spirits. Your dad would be pleased’. As the others looked on, Ellie guessed that she was the last to know. After Rachel had left, they all spent the morning at the dining room table going through what papers there were. Ian had no will and the bank and savings accounts were in joint names, as Ellie was the one who paid all the bills. Dave had already spoken to the Inland Revenue and sorted out Ian’s pensions. Ellie knew already that she would get half Ian’s works pension every month until she died, even if she re-married. They had joked about it once, a long time ago.

Dave ended his resumé by advising Ellie to make a will, as it wouldn’t be as easy to sort when she eventually died, and it was clear, from the nodding heads, that Dave was speaking for Laura and Mark. Ellie was feeling overwhelmed by the attention and the speed at which things appeared to be moving. 

‘Give me a few weeks, then I’ll sort something out. Your Auntie Cheryl’s going to stay on a couple of days and I might go back with her’. This news seemed to please everyone.

As if on cue, there was another knock at the front door. This  time it was Vera and Tom. Ellie’s mum had been magnificent at the buffet after the funeral, protecting her daughter by whisking away anyone who wanted to offer more than their condolences. Mark and Laura were too consumed with their own grief to be left in charge. Dave and Rachel, with support from Tom, mingled with Ian’s mates and listened to their reminiscences. A few had even made the journey from Nottingham, including two of their old neighbours from Arnold. Somehow, they all got through the day and Ellie was grateful that her mum had given Cheryl the job of keeping a close eye on Mark and Laura. There had been no one better suited to the task. After all, she was a professional ‘peoples’ person.

At that moment they were a family and Ellie’s eyes welled up as she looked around the room. They all noticed and it was Cheryl who placed a hand on her back. 

Silently, Ellie said to herself ‘Thank you Ian. 

This is the best thing you’ve ever done for me.’ 

It had been a momentous thirteen days since she had left home alone and headed to Nottingham. There was no way she could have envisaged any of the subsequent events. Right now she was looking forward to spending time with Cheryl. Bert would have to wait.

©Robert Howard