hope!’
In return he asks, surfacing through the Niagara of her conversation: ‘Nadia, can I show you something? Videos of the TV stuff I’ve written?’
She can’t wait.
None of us has seen her come in. Ma is here now, coat on, bags in her hands, looking at Nadia and Howard sitting so close their elbows keep knocking together.
‘Hello,’ she says to Howard, eventually. ‘Hiya,’ to Nadia. Ma has bought herself some flowers, which she has under her arm – carnations. Howard doesn’t get up to kiss her. He’s touching no one but Nadia and he’s very pleased with himself. Nadia nods at Ma but her eyes rush back to Howard the hero.
Nadia says to Howard: ‘The West doesn’t care if we’re an undemocratic country.’
‘I’m exhausted,’ Ma says.
‘Well,’ I say to her. ‘Hello, anyway.’
Ma and I unpack the shopping in the kitchen. Howard calls through to Ma, asking her school questions which she ignores. The damage has been done. Oh yes. Nadia has virtually ignored Ma in her own house. Howard, I can see, is pretty uncomfortable at this. He is about to lift himself out of the seat when Nadia puts her hand on his arm and asks him: ‘How do you create?’
‘How do I create?’
How does Howard create? With four word-kisses she has induced in Howard a Nelson’s Column of excitement. ‘How do you create?’ is the last thing you should ever ask one of these guys.
‘They get along well, don’t they?’ Ma says, watching them through the crack of the door. I lean against the fridge.
‘Why shouldn’t they?’
‘No reason,’ she says. ‘Except that this is my home. Everything I do outside here is a waste of time and no one thanks me for it and no one cares for me, and now I’m excluded from my own flat!’
‘Hey, Ma, don’t get –’
‘Pour me a bloody whisky, will you?’
I pour her one right away. ‘Your supper’s in the oven, Ma.’ I give her the whisky. My ma cups her hands round the glass. Always been a struggle for her. Her dad in the army; white trash. She had to fight to learn. ‘It’s fish pie. And I did the washing and ironing.’
‘You’ve always been good in that way, I’ll give you that. Even when you were sick you’d do the cooking. I’d come home and there it would be. I’d eat it alone and leave the rest outside your door. It was like feeding a hamster. You can be nice.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Only your niceness has to live among so many other wild elements. Women that I know. Their children are the same. A tragedy or a disappointment. Their passions are too strong. It is our era in England. I only wish, I only wish you could have some kind of career or something.’
I watch her and she turns away to look at Howard all snug with the sister I brought here. Sad Ma is, and gentle. I could take her in my arms to console her now for what I am, but I don’t want to indulge her. A strange question occurs to me. ‘Ma, why do you keep Howard on?’
She sits on the kitchen stool and sips her drink. She looks at the lino for about three minutes, without saying anything, gathering herself up, punching her fist against her leg, like someone who’s just swallowed a depth charge. Howard’s explaining voice drifts through to us.
Ma gets up and kick-slams the door.
‘Because I love him even if he doesn’t love me!’
Her tumbler smashes on the floor and glass skids around our feet.
‘Because I need sex and why shouldn’t I! Because I’m lonely, I’m lonely, okay, and I need someone bright to talk to! D’you think I can talk to you? D’you think you’d ever be interested in me for one minute?’
‘Ma –’
‘You’ve never cared for me! And then you brought Nadia here against my wishes to be all sweet and hypercritical and remind me of all the terrible past and the struggle of being alone for so long!’
*
Ma sobbing in her room. Howard in with her. Nadia and me sit together at the two ends of the sofa. My ears are scarlet with the hearing of
In return he asks, surfacing through the Niagara of her conversation: ‘Nadia, can I show you something? Videos of the TV stuff I’ve written?’
She can’t wait.
None of us has seen her come in. Ma is here now, coat on, bags in her hands, looking at Nadia and Howard sitting so close their elbows keep knocking together.
‘Hello,’ she says to Howard, eventually. ‘Hiya,’ to Nadia. Ma has bought herself some flowers, which she has under her arm – carnations. Howard doesn’t get up to kiss her. He’s touching no one but Nadia and he’s very pleased with himself. Nadia nods at Ma but her eyes rush back to Howard the hero.
Nadia says to Howard: ‘The West doesn’t care if we’re an undemocratic country.’
‘I’m exhausted,’ Ma says.
‘Well,’ I say to her. ‘Hello, anyway.’
Ma and I unpack the shopping in the kitchen. Howard calls through to Ma, asking her school questions which she ignores. The damage has been done. Oh yes. Nadia has virtually ignored Ma in her own house. Howard, I can see, is pretty uncomfortable at this. He is about to lift himself out of the seat when Nadia puts her hand on his arm and asks him: ‘How do you create?’
‘How do I create?’
How does Howard create? With four word-kisses she has induced in Howard a Nelson’s Column of excitement. ‘How do you create?’ is the last thing you should ever ask one of these guys.
‘They get along well, don’t they?’ Ma says, watching them through the crack of the door. I lean against the fridge.
‘Why shouldn’t they?’
‘No reason,’ she says. ‘Except that this is my home. Everything I do outside here is a waste of time and no one thanks me for it and no one cares for me, and now I’m excluded from my own flat!’
‘Hey, Ma, don’t get –’
‘Pour me a bloody whisky, will you?’
I pour her one right away. ‘Your supper’s in the oven, Ma.’ I give her the whisky. My ma cups her hands round the glass. Always been a struggle for her. Her dad in the army; white trash. She had to fight to learn. ‘It’s fish pie. And I did the washing and ironing.’
‘You’ve always been good in that way, I’ll give you that. Even when you were sick you’d do the cooking. I’d come home and there it would be. I’d eat it alone and leave the rest outside your door. It was like feeding a hamster. You can be nice.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Only your niceness has to live among so many other wild elements. Women that I know. Their children are the same. A tragedy or a disappointment. Their passions are too strong. It is our era in England. I only wish, I only wish you could have some kind of career or something.’
I watch her and she turns away to look at Howard all snug with the sister I brought here. Sad Ma is, and gentle. I could take her in my arms to console her now for what I am, but I don’t want to indulge her. A strange question occurs to me. ‘Ma, why do you keep Howard on?’
She sits on the kitchen stool and sips her drink. She looks at the lino for about three minutes, without saying anything, gathering herself up, punching her fist against her leg, like someone who’s just swallowed a depth charge. Howard’s explaining voice drifts through to us.
Ma gets up and kick-slams the door.
‘Because I love him even if he doesn’t love me!’
Her tumbler smashes on the floor and glass skids around our feet.
‘Because I need sex and why shouldn’t I! Because I’m lonely, I’m lonely, okay, and I need someone bright to talk to! D’you think I can talk to you? D’you think you’d ever be interested in me for one minute?’
‘Ma –’
‘You’ve never cared for me! And then you brought Nadia here against my wishes to be all sweet and hypercritical and remind me of all the terrible past and the struggle of being alone for so long!’
*
Ma sobbing in her room. Howard in with her. Nadia and me sit together at the two ends of the sofa. My ears are scarlet with the hearing of
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