EPISODE ONE-HUNDRED AND TWENTY-SIX
Considering the units
of alcohol he normally consumed, for several days now Mike had managed to keep
his consumption to a tolerable level, so that physically he felt the glow of
something intangible, giving him sensations of inhabiting someone else’s
body. What had made him cut down
drastically was the disastrous visit to cut a client’s hair. He had been so drunk he had made a terrible
hash of it, and the client had refused to pay, leading to a violent argument. Then, on the bus back from Crowborough, he
saw a man get on that he recognised from a pub in which he used to drink years ago. Mike knew something of the man’s
history. A successful antique furniture
restorer, with plenty of wealthy clients, a large house on the edge of
Southborough Common, and married with a young family. Then he lost everything through alcoholism. As Mike watched the man shakily hand the
driver his fare, he observed the skeletal frame, the skinny legs and the
bloodshot eyes, and this, coupled with his experience in ruining his client’s
hair, had been a slight turning point for Mike.
He knew he was still very dependent on alcohol, couldn’t get through the
day completely teetotal, but at least he’d reduced his intake, so that now he
felt able to cope with the visit to meet
Claire; a visit he anticipated with a sense of righteous malice. And, a few
days ago, something had happened indicating his luck was about to change for
the better. Killing time to cut a
client’s hair in Warwick Park, instead of going to a pub as he usually did when he
had time to spare, he browsed in Hall’s famous second-hand bookshop, and was
rewarded by finding a book called Bare-Faced
Messiah, an exposé of L Ron Hubbard and Scientology. Now he could go home and
confront Claire, armed with some interesting facts about her ridiculous beliefs.
*
Jackie had insisted they all four should sit down to a family dinner together,
and she had gone to the trouble of making a lasagne with fresh ingredients,
served with an Italian style salad. They
sat at the dining table waiting for Nigel to join them.
‘This lasagne will get cold,’ said Vanessa, staring challengingly at her
mother.
Jackie sighed and said, ‘Oh well, why don’t you start? I’ll wait for Nigel.’
Vanessa shrugged, pursed her lips, and grabbed her knife and fork, her attitude
suggesting that her mother was being wimpish.
Nigel bounded into the room.
‘Sorry about that. I just had to finish
off in the office.’
Vanessa and Nicky looked up at him, caught each other’s eye, and spluttered
with laughter. His face flushed with
annoyance and embarrassment.
‘Yes, I know, I know! It’s a bloody
awful haircut, and I’ve been too busy to get it rectified, but there’s no need
to make me feel worse than I do.’
Jackie concentrated on dousing her salad, deliberately avoiding eye contact
with Nigel, as she spoke. ‘Well, I’m
sorry to have to say this, but I did warn you about using that hairdresser
again. I never liked him.’
Nigel ignored it, sank into his chair.
His hand brushed the sprouts of hair sticking up from the back of his
head and he sighed impatiently before licking his fingers, then tried to smooth
down the offending hair. The family ate
in disgruntled silence, and the sound of eating and scrape of cutlery
highlighted the awkwardness of their attempts at a harmonious dinner.
After what seemed an overbearingly long silence, Jackie cleared her throat
gently. ‘Anyone got any news?’ she asked
with false brightness.
It was the cue Vanessa had been waiting for.
‘Yes, I have.’ She waited for
them all to look in her direction, enjoying her moment. ‘We’ve found a flat in Tunbridge Wells. I’ll be moving there the week after next.’
Jackie frowned and put down her cutlery with a clatter. ‘This is all very sudden. Who’s we?
And how can you afford it?’
‘I’m moving to a new flat with Tom. He’s
my boyfriend.’
‘And how long have you known this Tom?’
‘Nearly three weeks.’
Jackie’s eyes widened with alarm. ‘What!
Just three weeks, and you’re going to be living together.’
Vanessa smiled confidently, deliberately goading her mother. ‘Well, at least we didn’t meet through a
dating agency, like you and lover boy here.’
Nigel scowled at her. ‘But at least we
dated for quite a long time before...’
He stopped as the thought and the sentence left him high and dry.
Vanessa pounced. ‘Before you had it off,
you mean.’
Nigel pointed at her with his knife.
‘Steady on!’ he warned. ‘Let’s
not get personal. I respect your mother. Which is more than I can say for you two.’
Jackie silenced him with a wave of her hand, her attention focused on
Vanessa. ‘So you’re in a relationship
with this boy...’
Vanessa grinned as she interrupted her mother.
‘Hardly a boy. He’s thirty six.’
Jackie pushed her plate to one side and leaned forward. ‘I can’t believe I’m
hearing this. You’re sharing a flat with
an older man. And if that’s not bad
enough – I mean, you’re still a student - how on earth will you find your share
of the rent?’
‘Oh, Tom’s not worried about that. He’s
loaded.’
Jackie’s mouth opened almost in a parody of alarm. Then she became aware of a snuffling
sound. She and Nigel directed their
focus to Nicky, whose hands were clasped tightly on her lap while tears
trickled down her cheeks.
‘Nicky! What is it? What’s wrong?’ said her mother.
Nicky turned to her sister, appealing through her tears. ‘How could you leave me alone like this? Alone in Crowborough with these two. Now what am I going to do?’
Vanessa shook her head impatiently.
‘You’re such a baby. You’ve got a
job. Why not go out and get your own
flat?’
Nigel, who couldn’t wait to get rid of the daughters, was unable to suppress
his joy. He scooped up great portions of
lasagne, as if the food was a great source of comfort and brought him a sense
of well being.
‘Mmm,’ he said through a mouthful. ‘This
is a lovely dinner, darliong. The best
you’ve cooked for ages. I’m really
enjoying this.’
Jackie stared at him with a mixture of confusion and loathing, unable to decide
whether she loved or hated him at that moment.
*
Mike still had his key and let himself in the front door. He heard voices coming from the living
room. Female voices, giggling and
speaking enthusiastically. They hadn’t
heard him come in, and were surprised when he pushed open the living room door.
Claire gestured in her other two friends’ direction. ‘Mike.
I think you’ve met Lucy and Japonica.’
Mike smiled charmingly. ‘Of course, how lovely to see you ladies again.’ He managed to say it without a trace of
sarcasm. He cast a look towards the
redheaded American. ‘Lucy, you’re from America, I believe.’
She flashed a set of perfect teeth at him.
‘The big apple.’
He nodded and smiled. ‘Of course. Chicago.’
A small frown of confusion tugged at the American’s brow. ‘No, I think you’ll find it’s
New York City.’
Mike grinned at her. ‘Sorry, I get
confused. My engrams get in the
way. But then I haven’t had to pay a
small fortune for an auditing.’
Claire reddened angrily. ‘If you’ve come
here just to ridicule our beliefs...’
Japonica, the young woman who looked to Mike like a bird of prey, focused him
in her sights, as if she might swoop.
He widened his arms in a gesture of reasonableness. ‘How can I possibly
ridicule someone who may eventually make it up the ladder to attain the status
of Operating Thetan Three – the level in which you learn the secrets of the
universe?
You’ll be surprised to hear, my darling wife, that these people believe that 75
million years ago a galactic warlord controlled some over populated planets –
Xenu he was called, straight out of the comic books. And Xenu got these trillions of people and
brought them to earth, where they were vaporised and became radioactive souls.’
He stared challengingly at the American woman.
‘Well, am I right so far?’
The American shrank into her chair, as if Mike was the devil himself. Her eyes were fearful, and she looked towards
Claire as if she had just suffered a beating.
‘I’m afraid,’ she said, ‘that your husband is a Suppressive Person. I think we all ought to leave. Now!’
They all three rose in tandem, picked up their bags and ring binders and
prepared to leave. Mike’s anger rose in
his chest and throat. He felt helpless
now. Unsatisfied. He was looking forward to destroying them
with the ridiculous things he had discovered about their movement. But if they were just going to ignore him and
walk away, there was nothing he could do about it.
As Claire walked out of the door, Mike spoke quickly, wanting her to hear
everything he had to say. ‘I don’t
suppose they’ve told you yet the science fiction story they want you to believe
in. Don’t let them get you, Claire. It’s silly.
Childish. You might just as well
believe in Batman and Robin, or Ming the Magnificent.’
He followed them to the front door.
Without even glancing back at him, Claire left with the other two women,
closing the door quietly behind her.
Dazed and confused, Mike stared helplessly at the closed door. Then, like a dog coming out of the sea, he
shook himself, went into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Merlot from the
wine rack. He sighed deeply as he
searched for the corkscrew.
‘Just one glass,’ he muttered. ‘Just
one. I promise.’
IN EPISODE 127
Mike forces Maggie to face up to her drink problem