Mrs Crown was on the telephone, sitting by the little table where it was kept in her hallway.
‘What do you mean, you’re not coming over?’ she was saying. ‘I’ve got a big leg of lamb here specially, it’s just gone in, and I’ve already done the vegetables. What do you mean, you’re not coming?’
Patty shuddered with fright and confusion. This was proving to be more difficult even than she had imagined: it was a nightmare.
‘But Frank’s not feeling well,’ she said. ‘He’s not up to it.’
‘Frank not well!’ exclaimed her mother. ‘I never heard of such a thing. Frank’s always the picture of health. What’s the matter with him?’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ said Patty, ‘it’s nothing, he just needs a day to himself. He’s lost his appetite, he feels crook.’
‘Well, perhaps he needs a doctor. Have you had the doctor?’ asked Mrs Crown.
‘Oh no,’ said Patty, ‘I don’t think he needs the doctor. I’ll see how he is tomorrow.’
And then she began to cry.
‘Patty Williams, or Crown as was,’ said her mother, ‘I’m coming right over there, even if the lamb has gone in. I’ll turn it off and come right over, even if it is ruined. If you won’t tell me what’s going on I’ll just come and see for myself. I don’t care about the lamb if you don’t.’
‘No!’ sobbed Patty, ‘leave the lamb in. I’ll come over, I’ll come myself. Just give me a bit of time to get ready.’
She wasn’t even dressed yet; she had awakened in the empty bed at six a.m. and had been sitting almost catatonic with fear and shock in her kitchen ever since, staring at the front page of the Sunday paper.
‘I’ll come over as soon as I can,’ she said. ‘Leave the lamb in.’
She looked through the coloured glass panels surrounding her mother’s front door as she had done as a child, and rang the bell.
‘Patty,’ said Mrs Crown, standing on her doorstep in a pinny, ‘now perhaps you’ll come in and explain yourself.’
They proceeded down the long narrow hallway to the kitchen where the lamb could be heard loudly sizzling in the oven. The table was already set for five.
‘Oh God,’ said Patty, sitting down suddenly in a heap, ‘is Joy coming?’
‘No, just Dawn and Bill,’ said Mrs Crown. ‘The kids are all at the beach with the neighbours.’
‘That’s something,’ said Patty; ‘I couldn’t face Joy.’
Mrs Crown put the kettle on.
‘I’m going to make some tea,’ she said, ‘and you’re going to tell me what’s going on. Now.’
‘Frank’s disappeared,’ said Patty.
‘He what?’ asked her mother.
‘He’s gone,’ said Patty. ‘He was gone when I got home yesterday. He hasn’t come back.’
‘Have you told the police?’ asked Mrs Crown, pale with shock. ‘He might’ve had an accident.’
‘They said not to worry yet,’ said Patty. ‘They said people do it all the time. They said to come to the station and fill in a Missing Persons form if he doesn’t turn up after a week. A week!’
And she burst into tears.
Her mother sat beside her and patted her shoulder.
‘There,’ she said, ‘there now. You cry for a bit.’
Patty cried for some time.
‘I don’t understand it, Patty,’ said Mrs Crown. ‘Have you had a row?’
‘No!’ cried Patty.
She could hardly tell her mother what they had done instead. A row! The memory of the strange shared secret was now like a dream, something which had not actually happened.
‘I don’t understand it either,’ she said. ‘I really don’t.’
And she began again to cry.
‘Listen, Patty,’ said Mrs Crown. ‘I’ll tell you this. No one understands men. We don’t understand them, and they don’t understand themselves. That’s flat. That’s why they do these wicked stupid things, like going off. I could tell you some stories! But they always come back, in the end. Usually, anyway. The ones that don’t aren’t worth it, believe you me. He’ll come back. You’ll see. They can’t really manage by themselves, men can’t. They think they can, but they can’t. They’re just children.’
At this word Patty’s tears increased, and her mother continued to pat her shoulder.
‘Now then, Patty,’ she said, ‘you dry your eyes. Go and wash your face and we’ll have some tea. I’m going to put the vegetables in.’
She got up, and Patty went to the bathroom. When they were drinking the nice hot tea Mrs Crown looked at her daughter. Poor little Patty, the one in the middle; she had always been squashed by the determined Dawn, the assertive Joy. She was a bit of a mystery even to her own family, was Patty.
‘You know I like your hair a bit longer,’ said Mrs Crown. ‘Why don’t you grow it out for a bit? It suits you.’
‘Yes,’ said Patty dully, ‘I might.’
‘Meanwhile,’ said Mrs Crown, ‘what did Frank take with him? Did he take many clothes?’
‘I never thought to look,’ said Patty. ‘I just waited, I thought he’d come back any minute.’
‘So he might,’ said her mother, ‘but it won’t do no harm to look. I’m coming back with you later and we’ll have a good look. Then you can get some things and come and stay here with me, while he’s gallivanting around, the selfish bugger, causing grief.’
‘No!’ cried Patty. ‘I have to stay at home, in case he comes back!’
‘Humph!’ said Mrs Crown. ‘He doesn’t deserve it. You think about it. Serve him right if he came back and found you gone. Selfish, they all are. They never think.’
‘Please don’t tell Joy,’ said Patty. ‘Or Dawn.’
‘Well, I don’t know,’ said Mrs Crown. ‘We can’t say he’s ill, can we? Dawn won’t believe that any more than I did. I know. We’ll say he’s gone away for a few days on business—that’s all right, isn’t it? He used to do that when he was a travelling salesman there. We can say he’s filling in for someone else for a few days. Then we’ll see what happens. It’s too bad just before Christmas and everything. He’d better come back by Christmas, that’s all I can say, or he’ll have some explaining to do to me, that’s all I can say!’
And Mrs Crown looked properly fierce, and Patty, almost to her surprise, felt strangely comforted, and began even to feel quite fierce herself. He was a selfish bugger. They all were. But they couldn’t manage by themselves.