Birdseye Page 12

  Annie raised a hand. ‘Please, stay,’ she said. ‘It wouldn’t be fair on the children if you left now.’ The message in her voice was quite clear: an invitation extended under duress.

  He smiled at me again, and then he winked. We’d become partners in crime and I wasn’t sure how good an idea that was.

  Annie rallied. ‘Anthea. Alice,’ she said, ‘please check the table.’ She turned to me. ‘Amelia,’ she said. Amelia. Flip. This was serious. Bloody serious. ‘Please go upstairs and tell your grandmother we have company for lunch, and ask if she would like to join us.’

  My grandfather paled. Annie looked at him, her smile brittle.

  ‘It was you I was hoping to see,’ my grandfather said to Annie.

  ‘My mother finds it very difficult to manage the stairs,’ she said, ‘but I’m sure she’d be willing to make the effort for you.’

  15

  Annie couldn’t have thought of a better punishment for me. I climbed the stairs slowly, reluctant to reach the white shine of that door. I raised my hand and knocked very quickly. Maybe she wouldn’t hear me, maybe she was dozing. Snoring away, recharging her batteries for her Sunday lunch.

  A creaking sound and a short bark from the other side of the door dispelled any hope. ‘Come in.’

  I flattened my hair and tugged at the waist of my dress, took a deep breath and entered the cool grey space. The sleek wing of Ma Bess’s hair hid her face, but I could see her hands resting on the sides of the chair, white, with ropes of blue veins running under the waxy skin.

  ‘Quite a commotion below,’ Ma Bess said.

  I stood there, mute as always. Did she already know? If so, I could just issue the invitation to lunch and make a quick exit.

  ‘What is it, girl? Spit it out. No wonder they call you Bird, timid brown little thing that you are.’

  I let the words out in a rush. ‘There’s a man come to visit, and Mom wants to know if you would like to come down and have lunch with us.’

  ‘A man?’ She curled her lips round the word. ‘Why should I want to meet a man? Who is he?’

  ‘He’s … he’s your—’

  ‘Come on, girl! Stop spluttering.’

  ‘He’s your husband. He’s come back.’

  Ma Bess’s hands clenched. A small movement, but I caught it nonetheless.

  ‘Do you want to have lunch with him? Mom said to ask you.’

  ‘Now why should I want to do that? What possible reason?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  I could almost hear the cogs of her brain locking, grinding and turning.

  ‘What does he look like?’ she asked at last. ‘Still the same handsome ne’erdo-well?’

  I rifled through my vocabulary for the most innocuous words I could find.

  ‘He looks … fine,’ I said. Feeble, hollow, and not good enough for Ma Bess.

  ‘Fine? Come on now little scribbling miss, you can do better than that.’

  Behind my back my nails cut into the palms of my hands.

  ‘Well?’ Ma Bess was waiting. ‘Is he charming? Smooth, relaxed?’

  I wanted her to shut up. I wanted to form my own impressions of my grandfather. I knew already that he couldn’t be trusted and shouldn’t be admired. What man would leave a little girl for Ma Bess to look after? But maybe there was something about him I could love. And if there was I wanted to find it for myself and then I could share it with Ollie and Oz and we’d have an almost-nice other grandfather.

  ‘He seems nice.’

  Ma Bess snorted.

  ‘I don’t know what he’s like,’ I said. ‘I haven’t had a chance to talk to him properly yet.’

  ‘Well you’d better hurry then,’ said Ma Bess. ‘His sort never stay long. He’ll slip away, after he’s created another fine mess.’

  ‘But are you coming down or not? What must I tell my mother?’

  ‘Mind your tone, young lady. Tell your mother to send up my lunch. I’ll see how I feel after that.’ Ma Bess fluttered a hand. I was burning to leave. All sorts of things were happening downstairs, and I was missing them all. I moved backwards and hesitated in the doorway.

  ‘If you don’t come down …’ I said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘If you don’t come down, do you want him to come up and see you?’ That would have been the easiest, of course, but I didn’t want it to finish so quickly. There was a sick excitement in my stomach, the way you feel when you know something is bad for you but you have to do it anyway. Or when you know you’re going to get into real trouble for being naughty, but the trouble’s worth it because what you’re doing is so spine-chillingly thrilling. I wanted to watch as they met. I wanted to see the look in his eyes, to see him shuffle his feet under her mean stare and listen to the mean words that came out of her mouth. I wanted him to suffer because he’d made Annie so sad, but most of all, I wanted to see whether either of them would refer to the past.

  Ma Bess leaned forward and I saw her face. It was paler than usual and her mouth was looser. I had never seen her looking less in control.

  ‘I’ll decide what I want,’ she said. ‘Now get down there and have my lunch sent up.’

  I wondered whether Annie meant to extend my punishment by making me carry the tray upstairs.

  ‘Do you want Mom to bring it up?’ I asked. Annie could face the next grilling.

  Ma Bess started to say something, then paused. ‘That would be a very good idea,’ she said slowly.

  I turned then and stepped onto the landing. If going into that room was torture, leaving it was pure relief. I ran down the stairs and burst into the sitting room to relay Ma Bess’s message.

  ‘Oh no, I can’t,’ Annie said. ‘Not today.’

  Orville put his hand over Annie’s. ‘Don’t worry, darling,’ he said. ‘I’ll ask Thelma to get it ready for me to take it up.’

  I looked at my mother open-mouthed. Was she going to defy Ma Bess? The day was becoming stranger by the minute. My grandfather watched as Orville left the room. ‘He seems to be a fine man, Ann.’

  ‘He is,’ Annie said, and closed her mouth firmly. She might as well have said the words though, because their implication followed her direct gaze at her father.

  He sighed. ‘I know, I know,’ he said. ‘A better man than I ever was. There’s a lot I’d like to tell you, Ann. Maybe we can find a time to talk alone.’

  ‘There’s nothing to say.’

  Our heads all swivelled towards her. We were seeing a different side of Annie today. She’d been downright rude to him, she who always stressed the importance of polite behaviour. There was silence. Then, like a blessed envoy from heaven, Angela drifted into the room. She always looked flushed when she had been to church, but I was never sure whether this was due to the Divinity or to the divine Andrew’s company.

  She paused in the doorway, sensitive as ever to the tension in the air.

  My grandfather rose to his feet. ‘You must be Angela,’ he said. He looked at Annie. ‘You have four lovely daughters, Ann.’

  Annie stood as well and moved between Angela and her father.

  ‘Angela,’ she said. ‘Say hello to your grandfather.’

  Angela’s eyes widened, but she recovered quickly. She glanced at Annie’s face then stretched out her hand. ‘How do you do?’ Civil words in a cool voice.

  The bell rang from the dining room, Thelma’s signal that lunch was ready.

  Annie stood up and straightened her dress. ‘Would you like to come through?’ she said, and led the way to the dining room. He stood back to let us all go in front of him. I lagged at the rear. He rested his hand on my shoulder and asked in a whisper, ‘How do you think I’m doing, Bird? Do you think she’ll ever forgive me?’

  I was tired of being put on the spot by adults. I also wasn’t sure if I wanted the role he had assigned to me. I wanted to be on his side so that I could milk him for information, but I didn’t want to alienate my mother. No, I decided, I wouldn’t be a co-conspirator, more of a
distant ally.

  ‘I’m sure things will be fine,’ I said. ‘Excuse me, please.’ I ran out to the stoep, to where he’d left his soft-brimmed hat. There was a feather stuck jauntily in the hatband, bright green, flashed with red. Perfect for the ballerina box. I slipped it from the band and put it safely in my pocket, and then I ran back inside to take my place at the table. I sat on the piano stool and shook my head when he offered to take my place.

  Orville came in and took his place at the head of the table. He picked up the carving knife and sliced into the leg of pork. He passed the plates around and we all reached for the vegetable dish closest to us. Roast potatoes, pumpkin, green beans and broccoli, apple sauce. All the trimmings.

  ‘I see the menu hasn’t changed,’ my grandfather said.

  The spoon in Annie’s hand hovered over the bowl of pumpkin. ‘My mother likes a traditional Sunday lunch,’ she said.

  He looked down at his plate.

  Questions danced in my head, and none of them were being asked aloud. I had burned so many bridges, I might as well burn a few more.

  ‘What should we call you?’ I asked.

  He looked at me and smiled that special conspiratorial smile.

  ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘I haven’t been much of a grandfather to you girls. Maybe you should just call me by my first name? Godfrey.’

  I was disappointed. I’d hoped for Gramps or Granddad, or failing that, Grandfather. And Godfrey was such a boring, old-fashioned name.

  ‘I don’t think first names are appropriate, given the circumstances,’ Annie said.

  He cut across easily. ‘What do you girls call your grandmother?’ he asked.

  ‘Ma Bess,’ came a chorus.

  He smiled. ‘And she allows that?’

  ‘It’s what Angela called her when she was little, when she couldn’t manage Grandmother Elizabeth – that’s what she wanted us to call her. We never call her Ma Bess to her face,’ I said. ‘We don’t call her anything when we have to speak to her.’

  ‘Amelia!’ It was the second time Annie had used my proper name. My sisters looked at me, warning me not to give away any more secrets.

  ‘Well then.’ My grandfather laughed, and this time his laugh was deeper and more relaxed. He settled back in his chair and looked at me gravely.

  ‘What would you like to call me, Bird?’

  I was in a spot. I had to think of something nice, a name that would make him feel welcome, but something that wouldn’t upset Annie. And then it flashed into my mind.

  ‘What about Pa God? Not that you are,’ I said quickly. ‘I mean, not that you’re like our God, the one that does good things, but we did a project at school last term so I know lots about other gods and there were some, like the Greek and Roman ones, who caused all kinds of problems. Like Discordia, she was the goddess of strife, and discord, obviously. And then there was Bacchus. He was the god of wine and because of him people used to get drunk and do stupid things. And Pan – he’s a good one. Did you know that if you woke him up when he was trying to have an afternoon nap, he used to get so angry that he would shout really loud and that caused pan-ic? Isn’t that interesting, we use words today because of what the gods did? Only thing is, the other gods didn’t like Pan much. He used to chase nymphs. He liked to kiss them and … stuff …’ I trailed off.

  There was silence around the table, and they were all looking at me. Annie had a half-frozen look on her face, and Orville’s face had gone bright red. Anthea bent down, probably to pick up her napkin. My grandfather had gone very still, but the sides of his mouth were quivering. ‘So you see,’ I finished to fill the space inside the silence, ‘we could call you Pa God, and it wouldn’t matter that we weren’t calling you after our God. The respectable one.’

  Angela laughed then. ‘It’s a good name, Bird,’ she said. ‘Really good.’

  I looked at her gratefully, glad to have the spotlight shifted off me.

  ‘Pa God it is then,’ my grandfather said. ‘Thank you, Bird. Very enlightening. A very accurate choice.’

  Anthea turned towards him. ‘Where do you live?’ she asked.

  Pa God looked uncomfortable. ‘In Caledon,’ he answered.

  A sudden and collective indrawn breath. Not far away. When I had imagined him, I’d thought of him as living miles from us. So far that he couldn’t get back to see his daughter and her daughters. My fervour cooled slightly and I opened my mouth, ready to ask another hard question, but Orville forestalled me.

  ‘So, Godfrey, it must feel strange being back here, in Marchbanks?’

  Pa God nodded and smiled. Orville’s easy question was all we needed, giving us permission to interrogate our new relative. Pa stood up to it well. We learned that he’d been a salesman who took orders for farm supplies to the outlying farms in the area. ‘I still have a few customers,’ he said. ‘Not many, more of an excuse for being out on the open road.’ Before that he had been in banking. The job had been too confining, he said.

  ‘That was when you lived here, wasn’t it?’ Annie asked quietly.

  ‘Yes. Elizabeth liked the idea of a husband in a steady job,’ Pa said.

  The question that hadn’t yet been answered was the one Angela had asked earlier. I counted up all my sins. I had disobeyed Annie, coerced my sisters into joining me, called Orville out of the darkroom, been rude to Ma Bess. I had a lot to pay for, and my parents weren’t going to be lenient with me at all – not if Annie’s fuming look earlier was anything to go by. I was deep in trouble already, and telling Thelma to set the table for one more was going to land me in the deepest trouble of all. So, as Granny Little liked to say, in for a penny, in for a pound.

  ‘You must get very lonely,’ I said. ‘Travelling all the time and going home to an empty house.’

  My grandfather looked perplexed. ‘But you know this, surely?’ he said.

  ‘My house isn’t empty.’

  We know nothing, I wanted to say. Instead I went for the wide-eyed innocent approach. ‘Oh,’ I said, ‘that’s good. Do you have a dog to keep you company?’

  This time the look Pa God gave me was truly wounded, and confused. I’m sorry, I wanted to say, but don’t you see, I can’t be your ally? We have to ask all the questions we can. After you’ve gone, we may never get another chance. I steeled my heart and looked at him expectantly.

  He took a deep breath. ‘I have a wife and three children,’ he said.

  Annie’s chair crashed to the floor as she jumped up. She ran to the toilet under the stairs and slammed the door behind her. A minute or so later she walked back into the room.

  ‘Three children?’ she asked, standing at the foot of the table. ‘Three?’

  He nodded. ‘I’m sorry, but I thought you—’

  ‘No wonder you didn’t come back for me then,’ Annie said.

  16

  There wasn’t much anyone could say after that. We all bent our heads and attacked our food. Anything not to have to look at Annie’s face.

  I sneaked quick glances at Pa. He was eating in slow methodical mouthfuls. And he in turn sneaked quick glances at his daughter, opening his mouth as if to speak, then shutting it again.

  Orville broke the silence. ‘Anyone for seconds?’ he asked.

  There was a subdued murmur of no thank yous.

  Then Pa spoke. ‘Ann,’ he said, ‘I don’t know how to make you understand.’

  ‘Understand what, Godfrey?’ The voice came from the doorway, and we turned as one to see Ma Bess standing there, leaning heavily on her cane. How had she managed to arrive so silently on our creaky stairs? She walked so slowly, it must have taken her ages, manoeuvring her aching body from stair to stair.

  Pa’s mouth fell open. It did. I always wondered when I read it in books, whether things like that happened, but I actually saw it. So yes, mouths do fall open, and they stay that way too, and then they snap suddenly shut. Which is what Pa’s did, and then he spoke.

  ‘Elizabeth.’

  ‘Hello,
Godfrey.’ Ma Bess moved forward slowly, like a queen, and like royal subjects we all stood. She sank into Annie’s chair and let out a small sigh. Then she looked around at all of us. ‘Oh sit down, for heaven’s sake,’ she said. ‘Orville, get your wife a chair.’ And all the time, her eyes never moved from her husband.

  ‘I see you finally managed to get away long enough to call on us,’ she said. ‘Does she know where you are? What’s her name again?’

  Pa opened his mouth, but Annie interrupted him. ‘You knew?’ she asked her mother. ‘You knew and you never told me?’

  ‘Of course I knew. How else could he have got me to sign the divorce papers?’

  The blows were falling thick and fast.

  Orville pressed Annie into her chair and stood behind her, his hand on her shoulder. ‘You children had better go to your rooms,’ he said.

  ‘Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary,’ said Ma Bess. ‘They deserve to hear about their grandfather. Let them have the story properly, instead of hiding behind doors, picking up bits and pieces.’ She looked at me as she said this and I ducked my head.

  All I’d hoped for, for so long, was happening: the family secrets were being told. But I wasn’t sure if it was worth it. Annie’s eyes, black with sorrow, the nervous movement of her hands. And I hated the look of satisfaction on Ma Bess’s face. This was going to become her big moment and we were all going to witness her ex-husband’s humiliation, at the expense of her daughter’s happiness.

  ‘Let them stay, Orville. I think we all need to learn about—’ Annie searched for words, ‘the new member of our family.’

  ‘Well, Godfrey,’ Ma Bess said easily. ‘Dessert hasn’t been served. Why don’t you tell us the story of your desertion, while we eat it?’ A laugh tinkled from her at her own wit. I burned with shame.

  ‘That’s a very fancy car you’re driving, Godfrey,’ she continued. ‘Did it come with the job?’ She made the word ‘job’ sound dirty, unsavoury.

  But Annie’s dad – Pa God, I had to get used to calling him that – was a match for her. His voice, when he answered, was quiet, as if she’d made a comment about the weather. ‘Yes, she’s a beauty, isn’t she? Once I knew that I’d be spending most of my working hours on the road, I decided to invest in a good car. Best decision I ever made.’