Page 6 of Resistance
Maude
Hackney, London, 2005
Maude zipped her suitcase closed before heaving it off the bed and pulling it towards the door. Checking her watch, she saw there was over an hour before she had to meet Lachlan for dinner. After the relief at having time to spare, she felt the splash of another wave, this time flooding her with apprehension. It wasn’t going to be a fun date.
Lachlan was already put out that Maude had agreed to accompany her gran to France, but the double whammy of an open-ended trip had unsettled him no end.How would she be able to afford the fare to Australia if she didn’t work through the summer? He’d hoped to move into her gran’s so they could save on rent, it made sense especially as Maude paid nothing. He should’ve known he was barking right up the wrong tree on that score. Dottie’s house was a man-free zone, never mind allowing the unwanted ‘grandson-in-law-to-be’ a foot in the door.
No matter how Maude pitched the trip as a once-in-a-lifetime-memory-fest, Lachlan wasn’t having any of it and had just about stopped short of forbidding her to go. Pride was the only thing that prevented him from begging, she knew that. Still, Maude was immensely relieved he’d not been that stupid – she didn’t want to lose total respect for him. But what had troubled her was that for a moment, she’d kind of hoped he would put his foot down. Not so she’d capitulate, forced to choose between Lachlan and her gran, but so she could tell him to piss off. Maude knew that was a bad sign.
London in August was humid, and Maude was already exhausted from the mere thought of her farewell dinner with Lachlan. After pulling up the sash window she found solace in her rattan chair and a cuddle from Taily, her battered, patched-up childhood toy. The squint-eyed monkey had been with her forever and as she flicked his long tail back and forth, a habit that had seen her through many a temper tantrum or the moments before sleep, Maude looked around her bedroom.
Her gran’s house was a large Victorian terrace, cavernous inside and gave them both plenty of space to do their own thing. It was well-maintained by their jolly cleaner, Vanya, who came in three times a week to whistle while she worked and drive Dottie mad. Maude’s mum, Jean, said it was extravagant, employing a cleaner, but according to Dottie it was a necessity, especially as she’d always worked in Whitehall and housework had never been high on her agenda.
Maude’s bedroom was a veritable time capsule, a personally collated museum containing all her treasures. Whenever friends had entered the room, it hit them in the eye, like a migraine; swirling colours and an attack on the senses. Along with the aroma of patchouli, Maude’s favourite, there was an unmistakable aura of times gone by, dimensions overlapping and coming together. Like the naff seventies peacock chair she sat in, and her post-war mahogany bed and furniture, apparently all carried across from her great-grandparents’ café. The daisy print duvet set from Asda and far too many scatter cushions were probably the most modern things on show. The walls were still decorated with white anaglypta, but they provided a good setting for her favourite paintings.
The bookshelves told an orderly tale of her childhood; weekend and holiday sleepovers when her gran would read bedtime stories seated in the creaky rattan chair. It was a ritual that began with Beatrix Potter then on to Enid Blyton and later, Jacqueline Wilson who guided Maude through her early teens. After that she’d swapped books for magazines but it quickly became clear where her attention lay. Art.
The cast iron fireplace had been there since the house was built but now held an assortment of candles not lumps of coal. Apart from the varnished floorboards on which lay a huge rainbow coloured rug she’d bought down on the market, nothing had changed but that’s how Maude liked it. Her bedroom was her space and she insisted it remained exactly as it was. It brought her great comfort.
Maude’s thoughts were drawn back to her upcoming trip, not to France but the one on the horizon, to Australia. Lachlan already had most of the money for his airfare and had suggested Maude drop a hint to her gran, if not a gift maybe a loan, then they could get off sooner. At this Maude had bridled and reminded Lachlan that nobody in their family got a free ride and where Dottie was concerned, you stood on your own two feet.
This wasn’t strictly true of course because if anyone could break the rules when the fancy took her it was Dottie. Maude knew her gran could be a contradiction at the best of times and was all for tradition when it suited her. Dottie would have cancelled her birthday forever if she’d had her own way. She loved Christmas and Mothering Sunday, loathed Bonfire Night and the hooligans with their air bombs, adored hot cross buns at Easter and wild flowers, and she disliked Sunday lunch which she preferred on a Monday. She couldn’t be doing with the palaver of New Year so was in bed by 10pm, and never wore black for funerals because that was just bloody depressing. In most areas of her life, Dottie made her own rules and expected others to follow them, or leave her out of the equation.
Maude sighed and sat Taily on her knee then regarded his face. His monkey whiskers were long gone as was his drawn-on mouth but he could still answer back, he was magic.
‘What to do eh, Taily? Can you fast forward time for me… so that I’ve been to dinner and I’m back home with you and Gran? I’ve run out of words for Lachlan and no matter what he says, I’m going to France and I’m not asking anyone for the air fare to Oz. I’ll get there under my own steam or I won’t go at all.’
Nothing. Obviously Taily was in a huff because he didn’t want her to go to Oz either. A little voice whispered in her ear,but do you want to go, do you really?Maude ignored it because as much as the proposal niggled her, the idea of seeing a new land, painting under the stars or dipping her feet in the Indian Ocean would be marvellous. So what was the problem?
‘I do love Lachlan, you know…’
Taily clearly didn’t believe her, or care.
‘Okay you’re right. It’s not that mad, desperate kind of star-struck love you see at the cinema or read about in books but that’s because I’m not a silly girl anymore. I’m a grown-up, almost a graduate, an artist.’
Taily’s button eyes looked bored.
‘I really wish he’d not proposed though, but please don’t tell Gran I said that. I can’t bear her to be right,again.’
Taily gave a wicked smile.
‘He’s spoilt everything, hasn’t he? Taken the fun out of an adventure by making it all grown-up and serious and I’m not ready for that yet. I know I’m not.’ Taily seemed to perk up at this point.
‘What can I do though? I want to go travelling and I’d feel safe with Lachlan, and it’d be nice to meet his family but I cringe when I think of him introducing me as his fiancée, the bloody idiot.’
Taily agreed.
‘So, my little friend, it looks like I’ve got two options. I could tell him it’s all off, the engagement, then there’ll be a big drama and I just know he’ll be moody for the whole trip. Or I could weather the storm tonight, go to France with Gran and see how he is when I get back… and it’s not like we’re going to get married in Oz, or he’s arranging a surprise wedding because I’d want my family there. He wouldn’t do that, would he?’
Taily definitely raised an imaginary eyebrow at that comment.
Maude sighed and hugged him to her. Wedging the monkey underneath her chin she closed her eyes and relaxed into the cushions, her peacock chair folding its wings around her. Why did everything have to be a bloody battle? It had always been the same, her mum fighting with her gran over all sorts but mainly Maude and now, with Lachlan thrown into the mix it would only get worse. Her mum was thrilled at the idea of a wedding, Dottie clearly hated it and the fact her only granddaughter was heading for the other side of the world threatened to send her over the edge.
Heavy eyelids accompanied a yawn, so Maude pulled the throw over her and Taily, plumping cushions before she felt settled. Thoughts floated back to her date with Lachlan. They were going for street food, nothing fancy, so that meant she could have a nap, chuck on a clean T-shirt and off she’d go. This time tomorrow she’d be on her way to France with Gran and they could have an adventure of their own. It was the next few hours that would be tricky.
Whenever she thought of the trip to the Loire and basically, down memory lane, it caused a little flutter in Maude’s chest and that was nice, reminding her of when she was little. During school holidays they would go for spur of the moment days out, usually decided on over breakfast. Within the hour they’d be on the Tube to Victoria Bus Station, or Paddington and here, she and Dottie would pick from one of the destinations on the board. They’d been all over; days at the seaside, or to another city, or a castle, whatever they fancied.
And when Dottie had asked Maude to accompany her to France she’d also dangled the carrot of indulgence and opportunity, an all-expenses-paid jolly and the chance to paint and learn a bit about her heritage. How could anyone resist?
