‘I’m not being funny, Raymond, but why are you staying?’ said Dora, irritably.
He shrugged. ‘You know, I believe you reach a certain age in life carrying all sorts of baggage with you. And that baggage can cause big problems for everyone around you, if certain issues haven’t been resolved. And, correct me if I’m wrong, but I think that’s what happened here today?’
Marjorie sighed. ‘You’re right.’
‘So I’m going to stay because I think that in order for us all to move on and stay sane and friendly with each other and to, hopefully, continue enjoying what people like Eileen have gone out of their way to put on for us, we need to patch up the gaping holes. We all have our stories. I also have mine. But the other reason I want to stay is to make sure no one gets hurt or starts falling out again. Okay?’
‘Fine by me,’ said Stacy, sitting down. ‘So who’s going to start?’
‘I’ll start,’ said Marjorie. ‘Because I’ve started most of what’s gone on since this thing began. But first I’d like to buy you all a drink from the drinks machine, if you’ll let me?’
‘Sure, well I’d like to try a hot chocolate if they’ve got that,’ said Raymond.
Marjorie scrabbled in her purse to find enough fifty-pence pieces or equivalent for their drinks and the machine pinged for a while until they all sat with their drinks in front of them.
‘So, hit us with it,’ Dora said.
Marjorie had already realised that Dora could be brash but she wasn’t going to let that rile her. Maybe somewhere, deeper down, there was a heart in the woman. But then maybe she’d also got her own hard story to tell.
‘Well, I didn’t know it at the time, and possibly something happened, later, to make him like it because he certainly wasn’t like it when we first met, but my husband Oliver was a wife-beater. I lived with domestic violence throughout my life with him. But I did nothing about it at the time because I couldn’t. I was afraid of him. I was afraid that if I did something he’d only come back at me harder and do worse damage than he was already doing. I lost our first child because of his abuse and I very nearly, um, I nearly died myself that day, too. It was a horrible time in my life but he had no remorse and he even harassed me after I gave birth to our only child, Gracie. He never hurt Gracie, fortunately. I’d like to think I would have found the strength to leave if he had. But she witnessed his continuous anger towards me, which was not pleasant. I suppose I’m very fortunate that she grew up to be well adjusted. Her first marriage didn’t work out but she has met a wonderful young man who appears to adore her and is also, thankfully, mindful of my very close relationship with her. So I couldn’t wish for a better outcome for my daughter. However …’
Marjorie paused to take a sip of her coffee. Stacy couldn’t meet her gaze. Dora looked stunned and Raymond was gently shaking his head.
‘My outbursts have been two-fold. On the one hand, Oliver died about five years ago, so I don’t have to live with all that any more but his actions turned me into a very bitter woman. I wasn’t allowed to have my say about anything when he was alive and so I relish the freedom I have now to speak out about any injustices I see, as well as thinking it’s okay to say what I feel about other things – like with you, today, Dora. I’m sorry I upset you but I was just trying to help. However, I can now see you didn’t want my opinion. On the other hand, my daughter tells me she is about to move out of the flat we’ve shared for four years and I will be on my own again. That thought terrifies me. I find it difficult living by myself and I have hardly any friends. This is why I wanted the Afternoon Tea Club to work for me. I feel it’s the only chance I’ve got left now to make friends. But all I’ve done is alienate people.’
‘Oh apology accepted. I’m sorry too. I know you meant well, Marjorie. But I’ve got my own story, too,’ said Dora.
‘And do you want to tell us that story, Dora?’ Raymond asked quietly.
‘Um, well, not right at this moment – no. So tell your story or Stacy can tell us hers.’
‘Stacy?’
Stacy looked solemn, thoughtful. ‘Okay. Um, well, I was brought up on a farm with my brother Peter and my parents were very strict about what we could or couldn’t do. We had to work on the farm all our lives from when we were little. Evenings and weekends and the chores got heavier as we grew up. Friends weren’t allowed round and we weren’t allowed to go to their houses so we never really learned to mix well. My dad didn’t hit us or anything but he made us afraid of him. If we were disobedient we were sent to bed with no food. Old-fashioned stuff like that. And Mum and Dad never kissed us or cuddled us. So I’ve never had much love in my life. I used to have lots of cats, probably because I was craving some kind of comfort; but I had an accident recently, slipped off the kitchen worktop trying to get a cat down from above the units and had to go home to recuperate. Well, my dad got rid of my cats and sorted my flat out for me because it was filthy with cat poo everywhere because I just couldn’t, um, I couldn’t cope any more. But I’ve recently reconnected with my brother Peter and he’s got a lovely boyfriend Marvin who he’s going to marry and I put on this lunch for everyone so they could all meet up and hopefully be friendly because, well, my dad’s homophobic and a racist. But my dad went mad and said I was useless. I know I can’t do anything right but I just want to be loved really. I don’t have any friends. And I don’t have a life, apart from my job in the library. And, anyway, that’s my solace.’
One silent tear glittered down the young woman’s face as she’d told her story. Stacy’s story broke Marjorie’s heart. It was clear how isolated and lonely she’d been all her life. And yet when Stacy had tried to reach out to her, in desperation, Marjorie had been nastily dismissive. That thought pierced Marjorie’s conscience and she immediately put her arms around Stacy and held her.
‘There, there. I’m so sorry for all your troubles, sweetheart. I’ll be your friend, if you’ll have me?’
‘We’ll all be your friends, Stacy. Won’t we, Dora?’ said Raymond.
‘Oh yes, of course. I think that goes without saying,’ Dora said with a sniff, looking uncharacteristically teary.
‘Well, th-thank you everyone,’ Stacy said wiping her face with her sleeve. ‘That makes me feel a b-bit better now.’
***
Dora sighed. My God! The trials some people have to endure, she thought. But now Dora felt ready to tell her own story.
‘Okay, well I’ve had a blessed life to a point,’ she began. ‘My family created their own little empire of hotels near London. Hen & Stag Hotels—’
‘No way!’ exclaimed Raymond, his eyes suddenly wide. ‘One of my friends had a stag do at one of those, once. Crazy places. Crazy behaviour. Had a ball there, he did. Said it was better than Benidorm!’
‘Hmm. Well, they wouldn’t have been my cup of tea but it all worked out brilliantly as my family’s business. They were sold off some years ago, after my father died, and then my mother and I ran the Arts & Crafts Hotel we’ve got in the Cotswolds for a while. It’s never been my preferred line of work, although it’s where I’ve ended up. But we’re just on the verge of selling that now and moving down here to be with my Aunt Philippa who lives up the road from here, actually. It’s where we’re from originally. So due to my parents’ successes in business, I’ve always lived a carefree existence. But I’ve never really known what I wanted out of life. I will admit that this is partly because I never wanted for anything. I’ve never married. I’ve never really been a home bird. In fact, I ran around Europe and America for quite a few years in my youth. My mother called me a wandering minstrel. I suppose, looking back, I had a peachy lifestyle, despite everything. Yet my mother is one of those no-nonsense types of women, with an answer for everything, so she’s never really understood people who trip and falter at the difficulties of life. So, anyway, I did and tried everything – kicking back against my parents wanting me to join their business, because it wasn’t what I wanted at the time. But when my father died I came back to roost, proper. My brother Stuart runs a small hotel in Devon, so I go see him and his family, sometimes, when I feel the walls are closing in on me. Through it all, though, I’ve never actually discovered where I belong in life.’
Raymond nodded. ‘So you had a blessed life to a point. But is that all?’
***
Tears watered Dora’s eyes. Marjorie raised her eyebrows at that. What? The foxy Dora had a soft centre somewhere?
‘Please don’t be dismissive of me, Raymond. I know only too well how people can be suspicious of those they deem to have everything in life. No one, truly, has everything. I was bullied at school because the kids either wanted some of what I had or they wanted to punish me because of what my parents had when they, themselves – they told me as they pushed my face into the playground – had a lot less. What my parents had accumulated didn’t, actually, make me feel blessed. It was a burden to me my whole life. On top of that my dismissive mother thought I should be grateful for what I had and contribute, when all I wanted to do was run away from it. So, because I’ve never put down roots properly anywhere, I – too – know what loneliness is. I have no real friends either, to speak of, except my best friend Jodie, who’s stood by me through thick and thin.’
‘I don’t think he meant it like that, though, did you, Raymond?’ Marjorie said quietly.
‘I’m sorry, Dora. I didn’t. I just got the feeling there was, um, something else you needed to say.’
Dora nodded. ‘Well, yes, there is. But every story needs background info, Raymond. We’re all a product of the lives we lived before this point, aren’t we? In other words, you won’t know about me, until you know about me. So, um, what I’ve never told anybody – what I regret never telling my father before he passed away and what I certainly regret having never told my mother – is that, during those years I met the only love of my life. Oh, I had some fun and met plenty of men, I can tell you. But there was this one guy. And I, um, I kept his baby—’
‘His baby? Oh God, Dora. It sounds like there were others?’ said Stacy.
‘Well, I’m glad you said that, Stacy, and not me!’ said Marjorie carefully.
‘I was thinking it, too, ladies!’ Raymond admitted.
‘Well, okay, I will admit I made some mistakes in my life. But who hasn’t? That’s the next part of my story because becoming rather promiscuous was part of my kicking back at everything my parents stood for – not that I’m totally blaming my folks. They deserved what they’d worked very hard to achieve. It’s just that I was kicking back at the product of their success, if you see what I mean? And I was certainly kicking back at everything that had undermined me: my mother, the kids at school – oh, you know – everything. Well, Dad made us our fortune, so I didn’t really need to work. But Mum made me work in our hotels, starting at the bottom, cleaning toilets and everything. To keep things real, she said.
‘Eventually I went to secretarial college and then got a job with a leery boss who couldn’t keep his hands off me! I had a two-timing boyfriend and, well, I’d just about had enough at that point. I wanted to explore; see the world. I got pregnant virtually straight away. And I’m sorry to say I had an abortion because I didn’t want that kind of responsibility. And I certainly didn’t want to be a single mum, when I didn’t know who I was or where my place was in life. But with Andy? Well, I met him in a bar in Greece and we really hit it off. And, long story short, when I fell pregnant I kept her. Looking back, I did it because I wanted something from him – some part of him. And I know that sounds selfish. But I wanted to keep him close because he sort of got me when no one else had. Plus, he was a good sort, or so I thought.
‘Anyway, we came back, settled down around his neck of the world, Kent way. I never told my folks I was back in Britain. I wanted to see if I could actually make a go of things and then prove to my mother she was wrong in thinking I was useless. So me and Andy stuck at it until after Lauren was born. He got a good job, so I stayed home and looked after our daughter. But after her first birthday we started bickering. Unfortunately, I’d been battling postnatal depression, which Andy didn’t seem to understand, and the relationship faltered. He had a fling with an old girlfriend who’d been throwing herself at him for weeks, he told me. Guess she thought she’d be in with a chance being as we weren’t married.’
Dora heaved a sigh and a few more tears dripped off her chin. Raymond passed her a tissue.
‘Never in my wildest dreams did I think he’d have a fling. I thought we were so happy; so tight as a little family unit. I was starting to believe that this could be my place, with Andy and Lauren as the pivot of my world. But his actions tore me apart and knocked my confidence; I was gutted and just didn’t know what to do. My mate Jodie told me to forgive him; men are weak, she said. Her chap had done something similar and she’d let it slide and they’d made it beyond that.
‘So we muddled along for a while but he’d destabilised me. I felt uneasy and it hurt, real bad, knowing he’d not considered my feelings when he went with her. I mean, I know this sort of thing happens, sure. But I really thought we had something special and untarnished. Yet he’d done it when I was battling my worst with the depression – I couldn’t even leave the house to see my doctor. I’d lost interest in things and he hated having to deal with Lauren whilst he was so busy at work. I had no energy; I couldn’t concentrate on anything. Sometimes I couldn’t even change her nappy for hours on end and she’d cry, incessantly, in her cot. In short, I was an irritable mess. And he wasn’t supportive at all.
‘Granted, he told me the fling had been a mistake. Apparently, he’d been out on the slash with his mates, got pissed and she turned up with her own special brand of comfort. “I’m sorry,” he said. “We’ll work this out,” he said. And then it happened again, about six months later with someone else! I was absolutely gutted. Obviously he didn’t care about me for it to happen a second time. I felt he’d purposely gone out and found another woman because he still couldn’t cope with my condition, which seemed to be getting worse due to the stress of the situation. And perhaps he couldn’t. But I was furious and mentally drained!
‘So I hit the roof and stormed out the door, leaving Lauren with him because I was so deep in my depression I knew I wouldn’t be able to look after her properly. I went to Spain to drown my sorrows. I couldn’t stay with him, worrying it might happen a third time and worrying about Lauren living with all that grief and angst around her. You put your trust in men when they make their promises and then they shit on you. Sometimes a person can only take so much rejection!’
‘I had postnatal depression with Gracie. It was not pleasant and it was something I had to deal with by myself, as well. Oliver wouldn’t lift a finger. But to be honest I think it terrifies most men,’ said Marjorie.
‘But I’m sure your family would’ve helped you,’ said Raymond softly.
‘Not necessarily,’ argued Marjorie. ‘When I went to my mother for help with Oliver she told me to get on with things and deal with the fact that life could be unsavoury. It’s not a given that families will help each other out. It wasn’t in my case, anyways.’
‘I agree,’ said Stacy. ‘My parents didn’t love me and Peter the way I think they should’ve. I think their actions alienated us and made our own socialisation very difficult.’
‘Exactly! I’ve realised nothing is guaranteed in life, Raymond,’ Dora said. ‘The whole thing would’ve given my mother the ammunition she needed to say, “I told you so.” Plus I’d left Lauren with her dad. He’d got a good job as a property negotiator in an estate agent’s near Canterbury and his mother lived nearby to babysit. So I knew Lauren would be properly cared for and loved. I thought everything would be fine and that one day I’d go back when I was more together and confident and then we’d work out how to bring her up between us.
‘Well, I got some help and I did go back for her third birthday and to see how I felt about things with Andy, but he’d got a new girlfriend by then – Dariana – and they were engaged. Plus Lauren was clinging to her and didn’t seem to know who I was, and his mum, Pat, was there and she told me to leave because I was confusing Lauren. She told me they were all happy now and didn’t need me. I was mortified. But I could see how my reappearance might be confusing for Lauren.
‘So I took off again, with a view to dealing with it all later. But then I got wrapped up with the family business because my father wasn’t well and when he died I stayed with Mum to help her out, initially. But then life suddenly took over. I suppose on the one hand I was hoping that by working with my mother I could forge a better relationship with her. I didn’t believe that telling her about Lauren would help things, at that point in time. So I put my quest, to be part of Lauren’s life, on hold, whilst I worked things out. I sent birthday gifts and letters over the years as well as a cheque for £1,000 on her eighteenth birthday and a big explanation about things. But the cheque was never cashed.
‘I’ve tried ringing Andy and his mother over the years. I got through to Pat once and she said, “Just leave it, Dora,” and put the phone down on me. He wasn’t on any of the social media sites, back then, although I’ve recently discovered he’s now on LinkedIn. But I didn’t want to go back and cause a scene in front of Lauren or poke around in her life, upsetting her, so I’ve stayed away. I was hoping I’d come up with a better plan to sort this all out – long before now – but things simply never worked out that way. However, I’ve recently hired a private detective to see if he can find out as much as he can for me about how she is and how she’s doing. I guess all I want now is to know that she’s happy with her stepmum and not too mucked up because of what happened. I mean I’m sure she’s fine. But I just want to know she’s fine. Families eh? They can be a mess.’
Marjorie reached out and took her hand. Dora let her and looked into Marjorie’s face and gave her a teary smile.
My God, thought Marjorie. She’s keeping the truth from herself, more like. She misses that child far more than she’s letting on. But if I say anything she’ll say I’m speaking out of turn again.
‘Yes, Dora. Families can certainly get into a mess,’ Raymond admitted. ‘My story is very simple but my son and family don’t know the truth, either. Okay, so where to start with this? Ah, from the beginning, I guess. Right, so my wife Dianne was of Jamaican descent and initially we faced opposition from both sets of families – stick with your own kind, they both said to us, like in West Side Story; it’s less complicated that way. I think my father was more worried about what the neighbours would think. But at the end of the day love is love. It’s one of those things, like the weather, you can’t control. Anyway we got married and we had a son, Simon, and then he went on to marry Jo, his childhood sweetheart, who is white. They have twins. Our families, eventually, were okay about things but it took a while.
‘Anyway, Dianne and I had a wonderful family life together once we retired. But then a few years back we discovered Dianne had breast cancer. We were all devastated, of course, fearing the worst. My wife used to be a nurse and was a naturally caring and loving person, so her personality was perfect for the job of caring for the sick. But my God, we couldn’t believe she had cancer herself. It’s one of those things you think other people get and never for a minute realise it could happen to you. It was Stage II cancer with a three-centimetre tumour. So we discussed treatments with the doctor and she had a lumpectomy followed by radiation therapy. My son and I went with her for her first round of treatment and, oh, she was gracious and thoughtful about what we were all going through, without a thought for herself—’ Raymond broke off to compose himself.
‘That’s terrible,’ Stacy said quietly. ‘My auntie died of breast cancer.’
‘Ah yes, love. Cancer can be a terrible thing. But my wife didn’t die of cancer.’
Stacy gasped and Marjorie and Dora exchanged questioning glances.
‘Good Lord, Raymond. So what happened?’ said Marjorie.
‘Well, after treatment she’d not been at home long when we were having this stupid – completely bloody stupid – argument. She was talking about booking holidays for the following year because she’d been told if her treatment was successful and she didn’t need further targeted therapy she might be able to have some quality of life, providing the cancer hadn’t spread further. But I was saying that we had to be realistic about what she’d be able to do following the prognosis with her doctor. “Oh God, Raymond,” she said, “let’s worry about things when there’s actually something to worry about.” Of course, when I’ve sat and thought about that argument, I think she was also trying to cover up her fears by carrying on as though nothing more serious would happen. You’re fine until you’re not, as it were. Yet who’s to say how any of us would react if we were diagnosed with a disease like that?
‘Anyway, she was becoming tetchy with me and then she suddenly jumped up. “Oh, I’m fed up of all this,” she grumbled. “For God’s sake, Di,” I said, “just sit down and rest.” And with that she went stomping off into the hall and got her jacket off its hook. Then she turned to me and said, “I know you mean well, darling, but I’m fed up of resting. I just need to go out and get some fresh air. Look, I’ll see ya later.” And with that she opened the door and marched down the garden path to the gate. “Come back here, you silly moo,” I shouted after her. “Nope, I’m going for a walk,” she said cockily, opening the bloody gate!
‘And then the next minute – oh God – then there was just this sort of dull bang. I couldn’t place the noise at first. I just stood there, wondering what on earth was going on. Then I heard a siren. Then I seemed to wake up and I bolted down the path. And then I saw her. She – she’d – oh God! She’d been run over by a hit-and-run driver who was being chased by a police car. He’d mounted the pavement and caught her and then kept on going, hitting parked cars, all the way down the road.’
The colour had drained from Raymond’s face. For a moment he seemed to be staring at his drink and then he clasped his head and rocked back and forth.
Stacy’s hand was over her mouth and she was obviously trying not to cry at the enormity of what Raymond was telling them but little bleating sounds were escaping. Marjorie put her arm around her again. How horrible for Raymond to witness that! Dora just stared at Raymond. Everybody stopped drinking their drinks. A cleaner came up to them, and said the community centre was closing and could they vacate the premises, please.
Together they rose, as if in a daze, leaving their paper cups on the table and moving quietly out of the building, into the car park. A light breeze was whipping up crisps packets and dust, nearby. And they stood there dumbstruck at Raymond’s account of his wife’s demise. They felt empty of response.
‘If I’d stopped her,’ Raymond said suddenly, as if they were still in the community hall. ‘If I’d just put my hand out and grabbed her arm to stop her … But I’m not a grabbing-arm type of person. And she was simply being her occasional off-the-cuff self. But look where it took us! At the time I’d have done anything to get her back for a few minutes more – even with her cancer – just to have had a bit more time to hold her and tell her we’d sort it all out together. And then, on top of all that – on top of that – the bloody doctor’s report said they thought they could’ve managed her cancer with hormone treatment! So she could’ve lived for even longer than any of us had expected. Well, I couldn’t believe it. I don’t usually swear but life is just totally bloody unfair and crap sometimes.’
Then his hands went to his face as his features crumpled again and his emotions suddenly swelled back to the surface. ‘Oh it’s so unfair! She never hurt anyone, yet look what happened to her,’ he wept, standing there, next to the cars.
Then completely overcome by his dreadful memories, he drooped forward as his floodgates really opened. Luckily, Dora and Marjorie caught him, just before he fell.