Chapter 17
Big Eve Mathews was sat with her mother, in the sitting room crammed with furniture, as the two women chomped their way through afternoon tea. On the largest table of the nest sat a teapot covered by a crocheted tea cosy in a mixture of scratchy fawns. The cosy was a bit of an ornament – the pot barely had time to brew, let alone cool as the women slugged it down in the quantities required to put away a snack large enough for a road gang. This snack was never listed on the diet records that dumbfounded doctors and kept the local slimming club in membership funds, but it went a long way towards keeping Eve’s mother, Gloria, housebound.
It was a miserable day in a miserable house. The furniture, dating from the years when choice wasn’t an option and people were glad for what they were given, had been decanted from the larger family home into the small bungalow after Eve’s father had died, and Gloria could no longer manage the stairs. Despite the fact that only Eve and her mother ever really sat in the sitting room, there were enough overstuffed chairs to fill a doctor’s waiting room.
The women were chatting in the way that people do to simply fill time. Both were putting off the ritual of getting out of the chairs, which was becoming more farcical as the pounds crept quietly on and the knees weakened. This rigmarole was reminiscent of male sea lions heaving themselves out of the sea, their fat stores rippling with the waves of effort required. The “harrumphing” sound that Eve had to make enhanced the effect and the village children would have lined the windows in glee had they known what was happening within.
Once Eve was upright and mobile, she would then have to assist her mother and Gloria would be similarly harrumphed to her feet to begin the long painful journey to the bathroom. It was a dance that was carried out a number of times a day and one in which the steps would never be improved upon, no matter how much practice was put in.
Eve was helped in her daily mission by a friendly neighbour who would make Gloria a wholesome lunch rich in vegetables and low in fat, as required by the diet sheets and this allowed Eve to retain an element of her “indeepenndence” as she had come to call it.
Eve’s “indeepenndence” was a real stumbling point between her and her mother. Gloria could see no reason why Eve should wish to live in a draughty shared flat when there was a perfectly good spare room in Gloria’s bungalow. Eve had luckily had the foresight to move out of the family home before her father, Dennis, died and he had been quietly helpful behind the scenes in assisting her. He had soon come to terms with his position in the family pecking order, which had slipped a notch every time an additional member arrived. His only really positive action towards Eve had been shielding her from her mother’s overbearance. The job of live in nanny to the children of an acquaintance of his, for he was not strictly allowed to have friends, had enabled Eve to ease herself free of the apron strings that had bound and gagged Dennis for so many years.
When the job had come to an end, Eve had moved into the small flat where she was now living and had so far kept her quiet promise to her father on his deathbed that she would not move back home. And, therefore, Eve, Skinny Twat and a man called Trefor lived a strange existence in a miserable flat.
Eve could chatter for hours about Peter (for Skinny Twat had not actually been christened a Twat) but Gloria felt that the relationship was just not going anywhere and that Eve moving in with her would give Skinny the push he needed to pop the question.
“When I was your age, I’d been married to my Den for ten years, had had your two brothers and you were on the way,” she would say most days. “I used to fight them off with a stick at the local dances, but you…well, I just don’t know what to make of you. I really don’t.” This was not said in malice and was meant to inspire and motivate Eve, but instead it usually made her reach for another custard slice.
Yes, but you didn’t have to spend your Saturday nights wiping your mother’s arse though, did you, thought Eve, the resolve to retain her “indeepenndence” hardening.
Eve had a job at the local mini market to cover the lunchtime rush. This allowed her to see to her mother in the morning, then escape to work for a few hours where she clung to a semblance of normality that she treasured. Stuffed into a fetchingly clingy nylon pinny, Eve would serve behind the hot food counter, packing and selling hot pies and pasties to the local school kids and building labourers.
As well as providing her with social interaction, it also provided Eve with a cheap supply of cakes, as neither she nor her mother minded the fact that the cream was hardening or the packaging had been crushed in the corner. Indeed, it became quite a mystery to the senior shelf stacker as to why so many of the custard slice boxes had crushed corners. Unfortunately, Eve’s job was as damaging to her as Skinny’s glass collecting “job” was to him and were they to have swapped, they may have both lived much more happily. But, Eve enjoyed it, and the State donated the balance that allowed her to pay her share of the rent and the bills, in addition to a carer’s allowance to look after her mother. Therefore, Eve was able to expand her wages to cover the occasional luxury that would delight and intrigue the inebriated Skinny who would bury his face in its lacy folds.
Today, Gloria must have been feeling particularly bitter as she persisted in her jibes about Skinny and his lack of respect for Eve and how she must learn the art of enticement and beguilement and not just give him what he wanted on a plate. Of course, age had muddied the waters somewhat slightly and Gloria was happily able to forget that she had actually preferred her Den’s brother, but her tantalizing guile hadn’t managed to ensnare him. Instead, as a shelf with her name on beckoned, she’d settled for Dennis, and he, having been rejected by Rita Morgan three times, made do with Gloria.
“Well, actually,” said Eve, “Peter and me have discussed getting our own place, but we haven’t decided when yet.” This was only really bordering on a lie as, although she discussed it quite regularly, he tended to intersperse his side of the debate with, “Oh, can I just kiss this bit here, can I? Can I? I love this bit I do,” and Eve would release a little more of her bosom from its captor and carry on talking whilst Skinny slobbered with unfulfilled desire.
Discussing future plans with Skinny was as frustrating a business as having to tell a relative with dementia that he is a grandfather. It’s always good news heard for the first time, and Skinny’s level of discussion had this quality. Although his almost daily enthusiasm for the new idea was very flattering, Eve was beginning to tire of having not moved on much further than deciding that they wanted quite a big house with a garden and a granny flat so that they could still keep their “indeepenndence”, should Mother need to move in.
Gloria was interested in the revelation, but still cynical. She knew enough people to keep up with local gossip, and hence she knew what Skinny’s job really entailed: “And what are you going to pay for this place with? Beer mats and Stop ’n’ Shop vouchers?” But Eve hadn’t got that far. She’d seen the house that she felt they should live in, but hadn’t really thought much further than needing to paint the front door red. She’d have to discuss it further with Peter that night. Perhaps she’d wait up for him, fully clothed, so that her lingerie wouldn’t detract from the conversation.
Gloria pushed the last of the cream puff into her mouth, belched quietly and started to shuffle forward in her all-consuming armchair. Eve recognised the signs, repaid the compliment with the custard slice, wiped her hands on the unlucky denim that was stretched over her thighs and prepared to harrumph…