Page 4 of Resistance
‘And is it?’ Dottie thought she might as well ask the blatantly bloody obvious question.
‘NO, not marriage. But he’d mentioned going to Australia when I graduate and I thought it would be fun, you know, an experience, and loads of my friends have been. Somehow he’s took that to the extreme and wants to go the whole hog and settle down there.’
Dottie was horrified. ‘Settle… there! Why on earth would anyone want to do that? Dear God, Maude, have you lost your mind? You’re doing so well, think of your career and not just that, I’d never see you if you lived on the other side of the blasted world. And who knows how long I’ve got left? I am eighty-five, you know! We need to make the most of our time together. Remember, we have big plans for our last hurrah.’
‘Gran, stop making out you’re going to pop your clogs every five minutes, and I know exactly how old you are because I stuck the blooming candles on the cake. Now listen, I said yes to getting married, not to moving to Australia so don’t panic and anyway, we could have a long engagement… years and years maybe. We haven’t talked it through properly so just let the dust settle and please, don’t make a scene, not tonight. Mum’s worked really hard on your party so don’t spoil it.’
Dottie huffed. ‘And what doesshethink about having her daughter spirited away and her career ruined before it’s even started?’
Maude sighed and let go of Dottie’s hands then rubbed her temples, eyes closed as she spoke. ‘I haven’t mentioned that part to her yet. I only found out after the proposal when Lachlan blurted out his idea… seriously, I think he’s either homesick or lost the plot so again, do not say anything to Mum and Dad about Australia.’
At this Dottie’s head whipped around. ‘Did he know, that father of yours, was he asked for permission to marry you?’
Maude shook her head. ‘Apparently, Lachlan decided on the spur of the moment and bought the ring earlier today, so Dad had no idea at all. And that’s all a bit old-fashioned don’t you think… asking permission?’
Dottie just raised her eyebrows at this, wanting to agree without condoning Lachlan’s actions. She chose silence.
Maude made another attempt to smooth things over. ‘Look, Gran, let’s leave it for tonight. I can tell you’re tired, and you and Uncle Konki drank far too much vodka,again.’
There was no response to her gentle admonishment from Dottie, so Maude ploughed on. ‘We should both sleep on it. Lachlan is going to Amsterdam with some of his friends so we can have a few special days together, just you and me. We can talk properly then. Is that a deal?’
Dottie felt tears prick at the corner of her eyes. She felt dreadful now, and it had nothing to do with vodka or tiredness. She loved her little Maude more than anyone in the world. But, if Lachlan did turn out to be the love of Maude’s life, and Dottie still seriously hoped the Barista from Billabong wasn’t, then she had ruined a very special evening in her precious granddaughter’s life.
And then there was Maude’s engagement ring. Dottie was no snob, never had been and never would be, but it was run-of-the-mill, not the special piece of vintage jewellery Dottie had guarded as fiercely as her own heart. The ring had always been destined for her granddaughter and Dottie had kept it safe since the war. Her hope had been that when Maude found ‘the one’, she would wear it as a symbol, of many things, really. Partly in honour of the past, but mostly as a testament to friendship, loyalty and love, three elements so important in life and marriage. Gathering her emotions, Dottie took Maude’s hand in hers and as Lachlan approached, spoke softly.
‘I’m sorry, Maude, I’m being a selfish old grump again and I hope I haven’t spoilt tonight for you, so will you forgive me?’
Clearly responding to a less brusque approach, Dottie saw Maude brighten and smile. ‘Of course I do, you big dafty. I know it’s because you love me. Now come here and give me a hug.’
After they embraced, Dottie bade Maude a fond farewell and even managed not to grimace when Lachlan came over and pecked her on the cheek. Watching them walk away, her scowl quickly returned as did Jean, to gather Dottie up and ferry her home.
During the ride to Hackney, the birthday girl feigned exhaustion and yawned from the back of the car, nodding in all the right places as Jean asked on a scale of one to ten how surprised she’d been – replying with a ten when she really meant zero. She also kept Maude’s secret and didn’t swear when Ralph went too fast over a speed bump. Dottie did, however, resolve that one way or another, come hell or high water, she was going to rid their family of Lachlan and as a consequence, save dear, precious Maude from him, herself and Australia.
VE Day Celebrations
London, 2005
It had been an odd day that had plunged Dottie into what everyone always described as ‘one of her funny moods’ so she was now holed up in the parlour watching the BBC News. In the other room the young ones sang along to a concert that was taking place in Trafalgar Square to celebrate the 60thAnniversary of VE Day.
That said it all really, referring to her fifty-five-year-old daughter as a ‘young one’ meant Dottie really was feeling her age and on a downward spiral. She needed to drag herself back up the slippery slope before she ended up covered from head to toe in maudlin mud.
The only way to do this was to dissemble the factors that had conspired against her and she began with the easy one, her nemesis, Lachlan. The sight of him grated on her nerves, even more when he opened his mouth. He was a loud, obnoxious ignoramus and the epitome of all the negative stereotypes imaginable. Bruce, in hisCrocodile Dundeehat, putting a shrimp on the barbie, swigging a can of lager and asking his Sheila to bring another tinny. His existence on the earth and his supposed adoration of Maude drove Dottie to distraction and had Konstantin been willing, she’d have paid whatever price to have Lachlan shipped home in a container. It was quite possible, she knew that.
There was time yet though. It was only May so she needn’t panic. Who knew what would happen between now and December? Maude would graduate in June and intended working up until Christmas to earn enough for her fare to Australia. Once there, the intrepid pair were going backpacking, Lachlan regaling the sights they would see and what fun they were going to have. Dottie simply seethed and bided her time, hoping and praying Maude would stay put, find a job and take on more commissions, maybe hold an exhibition, own her own gallery. The sky was the limit if she would only set her heart and mind to it. Feeling mild panic setting in,Dottie muttered,‘Be patient, give him some rope.’
Her attention was drawn back to the television and a news report about the 60thcelebrations. Dottie watched the footage she’d seen umpteen times that day. The Beeb, like all news channels, was painfully repetitive, like the rerun of Prince Charles placing a wreath at the Cenotaph. The clip had been edited so she was unable to scan the crowd, curious to see if she recognised anyone amongst the dignitaries in attendance. The old guard of civil servants, MPs past and present, whoever was still hanging on to life or hankering after their glory days inside the hallowed corridors of Whitehall.
It was the same on Remembrance Day, where in years gone by she’d weathered the cold to pay her respects but nowadays preferred to stay at home. From wherever she watched, it was impossible not to feel, remember, and shed a tear. In Dottie’s case her memories were of a different war to the brave survivors who marched by wearing their medals. Hers had been a secret battle and one that still waged, but not with an invading army. This conflict took place within. The faces of those who had passed through her life had dug in, hiding in the trenches of her heart.
One face that was guaranteed to ignite a spark had been there in the crowd today and when she saw it, Dottie allowed a moment of indulgence, the ripple effect causing a flurry of buried memories to resurface. Hugh Grosvenor-Townshend rattled her cage whenever his face popped up on a talk show, a news interview, in the paper or the back-cover of one of his books. She’d never bought one, just taken a peep then replaced it, sometimes mischievously moving it to the front of the display. It was her way of repaying a favour or two.
It was odd that even though Hugh remained on the periphery of her life, not quite in the shadows because he wasn’t a man of mystery, the mere sight of him could knock her world off its axis. He was a scar on her brain, a star in the movie of a life she had sought to forget but hankered after in equal measure, depending on her mood. Poor Hugh, he had no idea how much his existence pained her especially when he’d been such a help.
Ever since the end of the war he’d remained constant, always willing to make a call, drop a hint or name, point her in the right direction. They weren’t close friends and confidantes in the Konstantin way, more acquaintances that enjoyed one another’s company if their paths crossed, usually at a function, private dinner or celebration, or through their work. Maybe that was down to Hugh’s awkwardness; he’d always been rather shy and self-conscious. Over the years, while the scars left by pubescent acne had faded, his slight stammer hadn’t. Dottie could always see past his disfigurement and impediment, but others couldn’t.
She had been sad when he couldn’t attend her party, a flare up of gout and his war wound still gave him gyp. It would have been fun for the three of them to get together again and Konstantin did enjoy sparring with Hugh, the communist versus the capitalist.
Maude always referred to their friendship as a love triangle and teased Dottie mercilessly that both men had always been in love with her, vying for attention, this and their constant one-upmanship was all the evidence she required. Dottie simply batted away Maude’s comments while admitting to herself that there could have been some truth in them. But their friendship had outlasted all of Dottie’s husbands and for this she was glad. And anyway, she felt sorry for Hugh.
