Chapter Twenty Nine

Melanie lost her parents within 14 years of each other. Odd, considering Sid was exactly 14 years older than Pattie, meaning they both died at the same age, still young at 68. Sid had just celebrated his 68th birthday when he died. He'd recently acquired an old black Plymouth car, even older than the coffee coloured one he still drove, it's purpose was spare parts for the real car. Sid got up early, breakfasted on vegemite toast and sweet black tea with lemon, then donned his blue overalls ready for action. He jacked the old banger up high, took his place beneath the car and set about tinkering. No one heard a thing, not a single thing. It was Cassie who alerted everyone to the disaster. There she was poor old loyal dog, tugging onto her masters trouser legs, doing her bit for his survival, but with no success. The car had fallen off it's jack and crushed Sid's scull like a rock melon under the wheel of a lorry.
Cassie died not long after, fretted away, Pattie said, poor Pattie, even in mourning she couldn't compete with the bitch.

After the funeral, Melanie found Pattie standing in the dining room, staring at a place mat.
"I'll have to sit here now." she said slowly as if she'd been waiting for me to finally come and hear her plans.
"I'll have to have my tea here now."
"Why?"
"You're not very sensitive are you Melanie?"
"What are you talking about?" she asked insensitively.
"This is where he always sat, your dad, If I sit in his place I won't miss him so much when I eat, can't you see, I won't always be looking for him, expecting him to join me any moment."
"Oh, I see."
"It's the same with the bed, I'll sleep on the right now, strange isn't it? After all those years of sleeping on the left, I have to do it, I'd never be able to sleep otherwise."
"You should do, if it makes you feel better."
Melanie cried, but not just for Sid, she looked at the photo on the mantelpiece, the smiling bride and handsome groom, their clothes suggesting the late forties, a time full of post war promise, a rosy future seemed assured, she stared at the photo and realised how short life was, how hard it all was to make the right decisions and travel down the right path, one wrong detour and you might never make it home.

If the house was quiet when Sid was alive it was a deathly morgue now he was gone. No more early Sunday morning hammering, the grass could relax in the safe knowledge there would not be another shed put down on it. Melanie missed Sid, he was dour and dull but ever so reliable. People respected Pattie's period of mourning, customers often stopping to reflect on poor Sid's passing with philosophies that were pure cliché - "You know what they say - the good die young", of course Mrs daft old toothless bat from round the corner, that would explain why you're still alive I expect.

Several months after the accident, Pattie announced she was going do something positive with her life and stop feeling sorry for herself,
"I'm going to join the local Amateur Musical society!"
And so she did. Discovering hidden talents, that turned moaning, insecure Pattie into chirpy, gregarious , happy Pattie and not before time.
She never re-married but spent all her spare time with a collective of women her own age, all once AAMWS, The Australian Army Medical Womens Service. She sold the old house in Engadine that she'd shared with Sid and Melanie and bought a little unit in Sans Souci, right on the beach. While out walking on the promenade one morning, she spied a little old lady, beetling by, stooped and grey.
"Hello, you're Mrs Hooper aren't you?"
The old woman fixed Pattie with a terrible stare.
"I'm Pattie Baker, used to be Pattie Small, you were my sergeant, back in the army, you used to boss me about and call me stupid."
Pattie eagerly awaited recognition.
"Oh yes, hello dear, my haven't you got skinny."

The two women remained great friends until their respective deaths, Sergeant Hooper departing first. But before the end, Pattie lunched and marched and gossiped and laughed with all the old girls from her platoon, the years fell away and she was a girl again, just a silly girl.


Alarming news in the form of a letter greeted Melanie one morning.

Dear Melanie,
I've decided to sell up, I've had a few people round and someones made an offer for the asking price, so I intend to move, after all these years. I'm going to buy a little unit in Avoca one bedroom, tiny garden , if you ever come back you can sleep on the sofa bed. It's not ideal for Bobby, but he's more of an indoors dog anyway. Of course I'll have to get rid of a lot of stuff so if there's anything of yours you want me to hold onto you better let me know, cause it would be better if you could come out and sort it yourself, I would ask my friend's daughter Debbie to help but she's gone and met some guy and moved up to Coffs Harbour with him, silly goose, she's nearly 50, what does she expect from life? Oh well, I'm dreaming I suppose if think you'll come and help me. I'll let you know when things are more definite

lots of love
Jean.

PS:

Here's a newspaper clipping you might be interested in . The suns out here and I think we're going to have a lovely summer even though its only September, keep in touch and try and send me a Harrods Diary for the new year, I love those.

Melanie unfolded the newspaper and wondered what in hells name this could be now. A picture of a large, fuzzy haired woman in her early fifties stared back out of the paper, Melanie read on.
Jude Mostyn, leading feminist and lesbian activist has thrown new light on the mystery surrounding the remains of murder victim Cheryl Burgess. Apparently the dead girl had an alias and was also known as Tara Medway - Browne. Ms Mostyn has implicated her former fiancé, Philip Thompson in the possible murder. Jude wishes to express her sorrow for Tara's family and stress that Philip was very confused about his sexuality and the possibility of Ms Burgess making advances toward him indeed may have provoked a violent attack, Philip's parents the Reverend and his wife passed away some years ago and his sister and her family who are living and working as missionaries in Equador do not wish to comment.


Chapter Thirty


Dear Mel,

Terrible, terrible news. I got up early this morning, the birds woke me up like they usually do, Those Kookaburras were going mad today. Anyway I realised Jedda wasn't on the bed, so I looked in her basket at the foot of the bed and she wasn't there either. I thought she must have gone out the dog flap out the back so I went outside and looked everywhere, in the shed called out for her, even looked over the fence to see if she could have got out and gone in the river, but nothing. So I went inside, she wasn't in the kitchen or the dining room or the spare bedroom, not that there's any room for her to hide in there what with all your stuff. I couldn't see her in the lounge room and she couldn't have got out the front as the door was locked. Then I saw her, she was lying behind the sofa, you know the floral one that used to belong to your mother. I said Jedda, Jedda, what's wrong old girl, but she didn't move and I knew deep down she was gone but I kept calling her and stroking her and talking to her, poor old thing she must have got up in the night and gone for a wee and just couldn't get back to my room, just couldn't go on any longer. She held on for such a long time cause she knew how lonely I'd get, last night she sat on the sofa with me and kept nuzzling into my neck and face really close like she's was trying to tell me something, probably trying to say good-bye, oh dear I'm going to miss her. Anyway I called my friend Grace, who I know from Greenpeace and we're going to have a little funeral for her up on the hill overlooking the bay, nothing too fancy, probably let off a few balloons and take her collar and lead and her favourite toys up there too, bury them with her. Sorry to depress you, especially if you're reading this in the morning, so awful to wake up to. Trust the weathers still good, please write soon.

love Jean


Melanie emailed Jean immediately.

Dear Jean,
Don't worry about the spare room, I'm coming to clear it out.

lots of love
Melanie
xx

It was one of those days that herald the end of summer, when the chill creeps up on you and you stubbornly cling to your favourite summer dress, tiny goose bumps adding texture to your fading tan. To absolutely punctuate the end of summer a few drops of rain had turned into downright pissing down.

Toni had left a message earlier, her cheery, American accent piercing the air in Melanie's home.
"Hya Mel, guess who's backkkk? What to hangout ? I'm single again, dumped Alex in Vegas, let's catch up, love ya."
Some things never change.
The Faradays were all back in their family home next door. Irish Cath waved to her as she parked.
"Still no CPZ, soon we'll have to park in Harringey I suppose, like your hair. "
Melanie had finally had it cut into a modern, short feathery style which according to everyone, took years off her. Now when she looked intot he mirror, she no longer saw her mother staring back in fact she barely recognised herself.

Mel promised to call round some time and hear all the gossip.

Matthew had already phoned from his mobile to say they'd be a little late, apparently the traffic was appalling, they were stuck in some god awful aftermath of an accident, and no one knows how to drive properly in the rain. Matthew always considered himself an excellent driver, zooming from lane to lane, never able to sit still always eking out the fastest route, albeit far from the most direct. Up here around there, over the road, slip in to that tiny alley, that comes out at the roundabout, turn left here we are, and you'd be left, head spinning with the feeling you'd just been on a fair ground ride , still dizzy and not quite sure what happened but somehow at your destination.
The rain was heavy now and Mel couldn't help but feel anxious. She ran through all the hideous scenarios that could befall them on the way home.

When Matthew had rung he hadn't mention Kim, just said he'd bring the boys back around 7, normally he'd say we'll just drop them back, we'll just pick them up, we'll just take them away for three weeks holiday, we're just going to get married. At a quarter to eight she heard the familiar sound of the family Volvo pulling up outside. She pulled back the curtains to see if she was right, there they were, her boys, how was it possible they'd grown so much in just a few weeks. Ben's hair was long and wild, his fringe low over his eyes and Alfie looked at least three inches taller, his fair hair sun bleached and even blonder than ever. Neither of them looking anything like her with their Nordic good looks and blue eyes. The rain pounded down as they opened the boot and yanked out an assortment of luggage, sleeping bags and duty free.
Melanie opened the door and steered her dripping kindred into the house.
"Christ, what a bloody nightmare,' coughed Matthew, " Sorry it took so damn long, couldn't be helped."

Already Matthew sounded on the defensive, just waiting for Melanie to have a go, as he called it, give him a yard of lip.

"Mum, mum....
Her two boys leapt into her arms, hugging and grabbing at her. It felt so good to have them back, together again, all safe, all home.

"Got to have a wee." cried Alfie.
"What's for dinner we're starving," countered Ben.
"Something smells good, said Matthew, still not looking directly at her.
"I've done some vegetable soup and there's some baked potatoes in the oven, take your pick of fillings, cheddar, Philadelphia, tuna and mayonnaise, baked beans, nothing too grand." Mel called out to Ben.
"Sounds good, right, well....

Matthew looked exhausted and no, Kim was no where to be seen.

"Do you want to stay for dinner, I mean it's nothing special, I didn't know if you'd have already eaten, stopped off somewhere." Melanie heard herself extending the invitation to her estranged husband, fulling expecting him to make his excuses and scarper out the door.
So she was shocked when he smiled and said, "Yes, thanks that'd be great, the services were disgusting not fit for animals."

"It's nothing fancy, I was going to do a big supermarket shop today but well, the rain put me off and I thought we'd all go tomorrow, the boys and I , I mean me and the boys." she mumbled.

"Whatever Mel, it sounds fine, really."

They sat in the front room, Matthew in his old favourite armchair catching up on English papers, while Mel dished up supper and the boys channel surfed the telly with the cunning of foxes raiding chicken coups.

"Wash your hands, dinner's ready."

Alfie raced through to the kitchen, "Mum!" his voice was urgent and in hushed tones.
"Dad and Kim have had a row."
Mel raised her eyebrows, she'd guessed as much herself but naturally didn't dare say anything.

"It was massive, she's still at her dads in France," Alfie continued. "Kim was crying and everything, dad won't talk about it, but I think it was something to do with a baby."

"Is Kim pregnant?" she blurted out, casting aside sensible parenting techniques for a moment.

"Ergh," he grimaced. "I hope not, that's disgusting, what if she has a girl?"

So that's what happened. Typical, middle aged man, young woman naturally she's going to want a family, serves him right.
"Alfie, " Mel pressed her forefinger to her lips, "Not a word, ok?"
Alfie shrugged and tore a jagged piece of bread from the loaf.

"Mum," he ventured, "Do you remember when I was little and I used to be scared of monsters under my bed?"

Melanie nodded nonchalantly, and hummed Uhah, as she scooped red hot potatoes out of the oven with a tea towel.

"Yeah, well I'm not anymore." he folded his arms across his chests in a gesture of bravado.

"That's good." Mel wasn't really listening, her mind was still on Matthew and Kim's speculated row.

"You can't believe in monsters under your bed when you're in a sleeping bag can you, doesn't make sense."

Alfie sauntered back into the living room leaving his mother to sort out their motley meal.

"Got anything to drink, asked Matthew, suddenly appearing at the kitchen door.
Alfie ran back into the living room.
"Ben, dinner come on!"

"Of course, but you are driving remember?"

"One won't hurt."

She opened a bottle of red and poured them both a glass.
"So," she ventured, "Where's Kim?"
"Oh, yeah, well she's staying on a while with her dad, they didn't get much time together, what with us lot, she'll be back in a few days."

He looked uncomfortable and obviously wasn't going to tell her the truth.

"Listen Mel, I'm really knackered, would you mind if I kipped in the spare room, I won't be any bother and I'll leave first thing."

So this was his plan, when he first left the marriage he'd stayed with a friend, but of course within weeks he'd moved in with Kim, into her lovely two bedroomed flat on the other side of the river, naturally if they'd fallen out Kim's was now a no go area and he was effectively homeless.

"Yeah, sure," shrugged Melanie, "Do you want another drink then?"
He looked relieved, like he'd managed something, she saw it in his eyes, yes, old Mel was still the same, still there for him, a comfortable old track suit to slip into when you couldn't be bothered to dress up. Old Mel, discarded on the floor beside the laundry basket, but still wearable.

"Great, look I'll just go upstairs and sort out the bed, I don't expect you to go to any trouble."

"You do that then?" conveniently forgetting she'd turned the spare room into an art studio.

Mel dished up food for the boys and though she'd already set the table, placed their dinner on a tray and took it through to the lounge, where apparently anything in English on the telly was preferable to a family meal.

"Bon Appetite."

"Ta, " they said in unison, not looking up from The Simpsons.

As she ladled out soup for Matthew his familiar, hostile voice jarred.

"Good God Mel, what have you been doing up there, the place looks like Camden market."

She looked at him, at those big blue eyes that had once stared into hers and reassured her how wonderful she was, what a brilliant artist, how famous she'd become one day. Those eyes that were usually closed whenever they made love, were now interrogating her, back where they used to be, controlling and ordering, bullying and bossing. She ushered him into the front room, away from the boys.

"I don't really care what you think about my work?"

Melanie had hidden away all of Elise's drawings, she didn't think it was a good idea to return them to her, not just yet, so she knew Matthew could only be referring to her own works of art.

"I didn't mean anything, I mean it's great you're doing stuff again, there's just rather a lot of the same thing, is it a commission, I'd understand that, you know, someone 's daughter?"

"No it's not, I did it for me." she finally said.

"Look Mel, if you've got a problem with me staying here I'll just go, it's no big deal."

He looked thoroughly wretched at the prospect of having to find himself a hotel this time of night, Melanie decided to let him off the hook.

"You've had a bust up with Kim haven't you?" she asked him directly.

"Yeah, well it'll blow over, nothing serious.' he admitted.

"Good, I'm glad."

Matthew took a swig of wine from his glass then a very, deep breath.

"Well thing is Mel, I was wondering, if it 's no trouble, could I move back for awhile, just till we sort things out, I'm sure you could do with some help what with your arm still healing and the boys, I know how hard its been for you lately and..
but she stopped him in his tracks.
"Matthew, I don't think that's a good idea."

"I didn't mean permanently, Christ that's not what I meant, I'm with Kim..
He looked confused, rattled, not the usual self aggrandising, confident Matthew Chase she was used to. He looked like a middle aged man whose whole life had suddenly spectacularly blown apart. They went back into the kitchen, silent now.

Melanie placed Matthew's bowl of vegetable soup on the table in a domestic gesture that belied her real feelings.

After dinner the boys settled into the sofa to watch dozens of American teen-coms on Nickelodeon while Melanie and Matthew retreated to the kitchen for coffee.

Matthew watched his wife as she busied herself with mugs and milk.

"Truth is I didn't think I could go through it all again."

She didn't look up.

"Do what?"

" Start a new family, live it all over again when I've done such a fucking awful job the first time round, it's wrong, just all so wrong."

Melanie found she was fighting back tears. She knew then she still loved him, needed him. He was her comfy slipper and she was his but somewhere along the way they'd stopped trying. But it wasn't going to be that easier, Melanie had never looked her best in slippers.

"Besides, I don't really have the resources to run two households..."
"So it's just about money then? If you could afford to you would?"
"No...I mean...

He trailed off, defeated.

"It's all a bit pathetic really, isn't it Matt.?"

For once it was Matthew's turn to be quiet, to stay still while criticised, knowing he was utterly in the wrong.

Mel was on a roll now.

"Surely this can't come as a surprise, the girl's what...28 years old for fucks sake, do the words Biological and Clock mean anything to you?"

Matthew shrugged, and cleared his throat.

"I know, you're right, I'm an arsehole, I don't know what the hell I was doing, I'm a bloody fool, an idiot, and I'm so sorry Mel, Christ if I could just turn back the clock.."

Mel shook her head.

Nope, clocks ain't for turning back, that puts to much pressure on their mechanisms, if you do that you cause damage, sometimes permanent but always costly. Clocks are for checking if you're running late, making sure the roast won't be underdone, timing a race - clocks are for going forwards, never backwards.

"How's Sarah, still furious with me?" he asked lamely.

"Oh I don't think she's lost any sleep."

Mel lowered her voice.

"I um....spent the night with a bloke while you were away." she said quite calmly.

"Who?"

"An installation artist, if you must know."

Matthew looked hurt, which was ironic considering the situation. He lit a cigarette nervously.

"Is it serious?" he asked, his eyes meeting hers.

Melanie shook her head too quickly and Matthew nodded his quite slowly and deliberately.

"Right, so ...here we are then." he said, to break the ice that so often forms when a couple tell the truth for the very first time in a long time.


"You can stay here a while, you'd be doing me a favour, I'm thinking of taking a trip myself. " Mel suddenly said.

"Where are you going Mel?"

"I'm going home."

"What, for good?" He was standing now, ready for a fight. " No, you can't, I won't let you take the boys."

"Not for good, and I'm going by myself, just for a few months, not right away, I want to spend some time with Ben and Alfie then I need to see my aunt, she's not been well and I have to help her, I thought the boys could come out for Christmas, stay awhile then."

"What about your job?"

"I'm taking a sort of a sabbatical, it won't be a problem."

And me...can I come ?"

"No, Mat, just them, for now anyway."

"What's brought all this on?"

"Oh, things, life, remembering who I used to be ."

"I've really screwed up , haven't I?" his puppy dog eyes doing their thing.

"It's me too Matthew, I didn't leave you for someone else, I just grew away from you, we've grown apart Matthew, we don't need to be together any more, we don't even have to speak, not that much." said Mel.

"So, that's it then, all those years we were together, for what?"
"We've got Ben and Alfie."
"Of course," he said shaking his head, "But that can't be it, we couldn't have got it that wrong, you know, just met and had two kids and that's all there was to it."

"Why not," she asked, "Thousands do it every day, and if given the choice they'd do it all over, yes we're lucky we got two great kids out of it."

"So us, then was it all just a waste of time?"

"Oh Matthew, we had the time, what else were we going to do with eh?"
He shrugged and poured them both another glass of wine.