Page 12 of Resistance
Maude reached over and held Dottie’s hand for a second. ‘I wish we’d had this conversation before, Gran, and I think you should tell Mum all this. I bet she has no idea you feel this way.’
Dottie shook her head. ‘I’d like to think that she knows I love her, without me having to put it into words. Anyway, you can tell her on my behalf but for now I’ll stick to driving her nuts. I’m good at that and I enjoy it.’
Maude gave Dottie the squinty-eyed look. ‘Do you realise that in some ways you and Mum are similar and that maybe, your stubborn ways and fondness for resistance rubbed off on her. While you were bucking the trend and determined to be an independent woman, Mum stood her ground with you and refused to let you mould her. She chose her own path, regardless of what was expected of her.’
A smile cracked Dottie’s face that had previously been focused on Maude and her erudite appraisal. ‘Well, there you go then, my work here is done. You and your mother have turned out fine with me steering the ship and providing solid foundations, what more could two children ask for?’
When Maude caught Dottie’s wink, she returned it with a tap on the arm. ‘Gran, you are such a wind-up merchant. Right, be serious for a minute because we are at husband number four and I’m dying to know what he did to upset you.’
Dottie was feeling weary from her meanderings and noting the time, decided to close the conversation down quickly.
‘Ah, William. There’s not much to say, really. After your grandfather I properly swore off men unless they were taking me to dinner, the theatre or the ballet, on all-expenses-paid holidays, had a home of their own and no desire or need of a wife.’
‘So what happened to flying the flag for women’s lib and paying your own way?’ Maude smirked.
‘I enjoyed independence, Maude, but I wasn’t bloody stupid! If someone wanted the pleasure of my company that was fine and yes, I could pay for my own ticket to Barbados but if a wealthy chap wanted to treat me, who was I to refuse? And anyway, it’s only demeaning if you repay generosity with sex. I didn’t. I had sex because I wanted to, not because I couldn’t afford to go on holiday without dropping my knickers.’
‘Dear God, Gran, enough!’ Maude slapped her hand against her forehead.
Howling with laughter Dottie forced out some facts before Maude disowned her. ‘I’m putting this debacle down to a mid-life crisis and a mutually agreeable but decent proposition. I met William through Hugh. They were colleagues at the Home Office where William worked as an advisor. We’d enjoyed some lovely evenings together and had grown quite close. He was articulate, interesting and I accompanied him to many dinners and functions. I had no idea his feelings for me had deepened so his proposal came as a shock. In the moments where I sat open-mouthed and grappled for words, he took the opportunity to assure me that our marriage would be nothing like my others.
‘I have to say his pitch was excellent. He would remain at his apartment in Kensington, I would keep my house. William admired my job and wouldn’t dream of asking me to give it up. We were a good match. I would look good on his arm. He would look good on mine.’
Maude interrupted. ‘And he cheated.’
‘Yes. I had my suspicions and raised them with Konstantin. He brought me the proof in a brown envelope. The pictures inside, prostitutes at William’s private club, were not part of the deal. My handsome divorce settlement was.’
Maude puffed. ‘Bloody hell, Gran. There’s a book in there somewhere.’
‘I do hope so, but enough of my tawdry past. Let’s focus on the here and now. We’ll be there soon, and I want us to have that holiday feeling, in fact, find Cliff Richard on that ipop thing of yours and we can have a sing-song.’
Again, Maude roared with laughter. ‘It’s an iPod, and your wish is my command, Mrs Flibbertigibbet. Hold on.’
Maude picked up her phone and searched for the song as Dottie looked on. That was one chapter in the story of her life done and dusted. Even if the only people that read it were Maude and Jean, it would be enough. At least once it was told, they would know more about who Dottie really was, what she had done, and why.
Dottie and Maude – Road Trip
France, 2005
Dottie was riding shotgun as Maude referred to it and while she had enjoyed their whistle-stop tour of Paris, was glad to leave the city behind them and finally be heading south. So far, the journey hadn’t been the least bit stressful mostly due to Maude doing all the hard work, but she seemed happy enough taking what she thought was control.
With the trauma of the Boulevard Périphérique behind them, they were now taking the A11 towards Angers and Dottie could see from her posture and facial expression that Maude was more relaxed. She couldn’t see her eyes as they were covered by sunglasses to counteract the glare of a bright July day, but at least her brow wasn’t quite as damp as earlier, although her fringe still stuck to her forehead. Despite this, Dottie thought Maude looked very French, her dark-brown hair, cut into a short bob, framed a heart-shaped face that with a bit of luck would take on a golden glow during their trip. Maude erred on the side of pale and could look a bit wishy-washy especially during the winter when she was holed up inside her studio, but a few days painting outside in the fresh air would do her the world of good.
The autoroute stretched ahead and the pace of the traffic had slowed considerably when Maude wound down her window a touch, then asked Dottie a question. ‘So, my little travelling buddy, are you looking forward to your road trip down memory lane? I absolutely loved Paris, but I have to admit I’m glad that box is ticked, aren’t you?’
Dottie was listening to Maude and trying to open the tin of travel sweets, twisting and prising the lid.
‘Maybe once you take out the landmarks most cities are the same, full of rude, pushy people or someone trying to flog you a cheap souvenir.’
Dottie nodded her agreement then gestured towards the dashboard. ‘Still didn’t stop you from buying the Eiffel Tower, did it?’ The tiny plastic statue was attached to the key fob and jiggled as they drove.
‘Hey, don’t diss my souvenir, I love it and Mum will love hers, too.’ Maude had bought a bigger flashing statue for her mum. It was pure kitsch.
Dottie laughed. ‘Do you think? Where on earth will she put it? It’s huge compared to yours.’
Maude shrugged. ‘In the downstairs loo, probably. And you didn’t answer my question about how you feel about going back to Renazé. I wonder if there will be anyone there you recognise? Maybe we could look up some of the names you remember and see if we can find them or their families.’
Dottie remained silent, deep in thought because this very idea had been buzzing around her head for weeks. It would have been easy to do a spot of research, contact themairewho, in any town or village, was an excellent starting point for most issues. But for now, she preferred to simply look and wander, be anonymous.
