4. Geraldine is sort of speechless
4
GERALDINE IS SORT OF SPEECHLESS
Despite the lack of sleep, Netta was up early. It was Saturday, a market day, and she didn’t have much choice. Everyone else in the house did have a choice, so it was a surprise to find Liza sitting in the kitchen with a bowl of cereal. ‘Morning. I’ve made some tea.’
Netta poured a cup from the pot. She’d been a tea bag in a mug kind of person before Liza had become something of an eco-warrior. Now it was a teapot and leaves or risk a lecture. Not that she minded really. It was all for the right reasons and she was proud of her daughter for making a stand. She’d even been on a few marches with Liza and her friends, along with her mum. One family, three generations marching for the future. How about that?
Her mum was coming to give them a hand on the market stall this morning. Just for a few hours when it was busiest. There used to be three of them running their little jam and pickles business, Netta, Kelly, and Neil, but since Kelly had gone travelling it was just the two of them. They’d found someone to replace her on the production side because most of their produce was sold through retailers these days. But the Saturday artisanal markets were a good sideline, so Neil and Netta had kept them going on their own with occasional help from family and friends.
‘Are you seeing Nan this morning?’ asked Liza.
‘Yes. Have you said anything to her?’
‘About Dad? No, not yet. I can call her if you want me to.’
‘It’s okay. I’ll speak to her today.’
Liza bit down on her bottom lip. ‘Do you think she’ll take it really badly?’
Netta looked across the table at her. Should she tell Liza how her nan was likely to take it? Best not. ‘I’m sure she’ll understand.’
‘She hates him doesn’t she? I know she tries to make out she doesn’t, but she’s not exactly the best liar in the world.’
‘I think it’s true to say she’s not keen.’
Liza laughed. ‘Mum, you’re an even worse liar than Nan. That thing Arianne said about domestic abuse, do you believe her?’
‘I honestly don’t know. What about you?’
‘Same here. I don’t want to take his side just because he’s my dad and also, because I know how he can be, but I can’t say I’ve noticed it when I’ve been with them. She’s usually the one going apeshit over the slightest thing. Last time I was there, she went mad because I’d put a cup on the wrong dishwasher shelf. Completely blew up. That’s why I hardly ever stay now.’
‘It’s not always obvious though.’
Liza reached for Netta’s hand. ‘I know.’
With no grandchildren in the vicinity to curtail her reaction, Geraldine Wilde wasn’t holding back. ‘If this is some kind of joke, it’s a very poor one.’
‘It’s not a joke.’ Netta had taken her aside as soon as she’d arrived and told her the news.
‘Well then, I don’t know what to say. I’m speechless. Absolutely speechless. That you would think it was okay to let that man stay under your roof, after all he’s done to you. Have you lost your mind? Because that’s the only reason I can think of why you’d do such a thing.’
Netta took a breath and wished that her mum was actually speechless. ‘I did it for Liza. She was worried about him. I didn’t want to, but I was backed into a corner.’
‘Silly girl, she’s too soft.’
‘She knows what he’s like, but he’s her dad.’
‘Yes, I am fully aware of that, Netta. I need to phone your father. God knows what he’ll say. I just hope he contains his fury, for Liza’s sake.’
Netta put a hand over her mouth to hide the smile that was forming at the thought of her dad, the mild-mannered Arthur Wilde, containing his fury. Her mum’s expression made it clear she hadn’t hidden it well enough.
She was saved by a well-timed interruption from Neil. ‘Excuse me butting in, ladies, but it’s getting a bit busy. I could do with some help.’
Her mum shot him a withering look. ‘We’re rather busy here too, if you don’t mind, Neil.’
Something very close to pain and bewilderment flashed across Neil’s face. Under normal circumstances, he could do no wrong, as far as her mum was concerned. But these were not normal circumstances and he’d been well and truly told off. ‘Sorry, Geraldine.’
She gave him a cursory glance. ‘I’ll be with you shortly. I need to call Arthur.’
Netta took Neil by the arm. ‘Come on, we’ve got customers waiting.’
‘She didn’t take it well, then?’ he whispered.
‘She did not.’ She cast her eyes over to her mum who was shaking her head, waving an arm and talking, all at the same time. ‘Poor old Dad.’
By the time her mum returned she’d calmed down enough to prove that she was by far the best sales person out of all of them. The customers loved her. Especially the older men. Not that long ago, she’d had been taken in hand by her style savvy sister-in-law and had blossomed into a chic septuagenarian who could easily pass for ten years younger. It got her a lot of interest from men of a certain age. They were wasting their time. She only had eyes for one man. But that didn’t stop her exploiting their attentiveness when it came to increasing profits.
Today’s market was in Moseley village which wasn’t really a village, just a suburb in the south of Birmingham, but it had a sort of bohemian, urban-village feel about it. There were a lot of arty types who lived here, including Colin when he wasn’t being locked out of his own home. Colin liked to give the impression he was a bohemian arty type who cared deeply about the world. Providing you didn’t scratch too deeply under the surface, he got away with it.
Her dad turned up just a little before two, when they’d pretty much packed up for the day. ‘Colin’s moved in then, has he?’ He was talking to Netta, but his eyes were on her mum, or rather the man talking to her mum – mid-sixties, tight jeans, loose shirt, red bandana around his neck.
‘Just temporary, Dad. Very temporary.’
‘Don’t let him get under your skin, Nettie.’
‘I won’t. Frank and Liza are keeping an eye on him.’
‘Good. Do you still want us to come over tomorrow?’
‘Of course. Life goes on as normal. Unless you really don’t want to see him.’
He turned to look at her for the first time. ‘No, we don’t want to see him, but we want him to see us. We want him to know we’ve got his number. We’ll be there. Now, I’ve come to pick your mum up before she gets whisked away by yet another admirer. Can’t keep them away.’
‘I don’t think you need worry, Dad. You’re well ahead of the competition.’ She glanced in her mum’s direction but got distracted by a familiar peroxide blonde head walking through the stalls further up. ‘I’ll be back in a minute,’ she said, as she ran off in pursuit of Arianne.
Arianne crossed over the main road. Netta tried to follow, but the traffic lights changed before she got there, and the road was too busy with cars, so she had to wait. By the time she was able to get over, Arianne was disappearing into a middle eastern café. Netta got to the window in time to see her taking a table that was already occupied by a man. She sent a message to Colin:
Now’s a good time to get back in your house. Just spotted Arianne in a café in Moseley village. Go there straight away.
She noted that he’d picked the message up. With any luck he’d be in the area already and he’d be back home and out of her hair within hours.
Before she had a chance to congratulate herself on a job well done, a message came back:
No point. She’s changed the locks.