Julia chapter 5

‘Your hair has grown back fast Mrs.Mitchell.’  The hairdresser assesses Valerie’s hair in the way only a hairdresser could, as if it is something separate from Valerie, carried on her head but not part of her person.  Valerie retorts quickly, tensely, ‘Yes it has grown. Perhaps that in the brief fortnight in Switzerland looking for property, I caught the sun rather, perhaps that has something to do with it’.

‘I’ve always wanted to go to Switzerland, ever since I read Heidi as a child, and of course there was the Sound of Music wasn’t there.’   Valerie had to agree that both were based in or around or in the vicinity of Switzerland but that to her it was the skiing that attracted her to the country. The hairdresser obviously did not want to enter a discussion about skiing and so changed the subject.

‘How is your mother nowadays?’  Valerie’s heart rate increased.  Every time her mother was mentioned, it sent a shot of stress bursting through her and she had to try to manage it.

‘She's still unwell I’m afraid.  She’s back home on the Island which makes it difficult for me because I have to go down there at least once a week to check up on the Philippino carer we’ve employed. She lives in and looks after mother.’ ‘Oh they’re so handy these Philippino’s aren’t they, always so grateful for the jobs we give them. Well I mean they don’t have anything where they come from do they?  England must seem like heaven to them.’   The thought occurred to Valerie that if tending her mother was heaven then what must hell be like?  ‘And have they caught that man yet, the man with all those wives?’

‘No, they haven’t caught him yet.’ Valerie gleaned from the hairdresser’s question that she thought Brian had a harem dotted around the country. The truth was less dramatic. According to the police, Brian did have a second wife in Staines from whom he had been estranged for fifteen years.  Not exactly a serial offender, even if the results of his actions had led to so much distress.   ‘I can’t imagine my George doing anything like that.  He hasn’t got the stamina for one woman let alone several.’ She laughed and was obviously trying to lighten the conversation but Valerie did not see the joke and remained stony faced.  ‘So do you think she will be up and about soon?’ 

Valerie shook her head before realising what a dangerous action that was, bearing in mind the random snick snick of the scissors. ‘I’m afraid it looks like a long-term thing.  Mother has taken to her bed and seems unlikely to improve in the foreseeable future.’

‘Well it was such a shock wasn’t it? I told my George about it and he said if it was his mother he’d hunt the man down and chop off his……’  ‘Yes well we’re leaving that side of things to the law. They’re investigating his background  and seem sure they’ll catch up with him.’ Valerie felt a deep sense of unease at the thought of the police investigating Brian’s financial affairs because of Geoffrey’s involvement in some of his later dealings.  She’d approached Geoffrey about it but he was unwilling to talk, he just said ‘Leave it to me, you concentrate on your mother.’ His tone was very harsh and slightly threatening. Valerie sensed that things were far from well but that to push him would lead to one of his deafening silences. She couldn’t possibly face being excommunicated for weeks on end with all of her current problems. ‘And is your sister any better?’ The scissors were clicking with a threateningly constant rhythm. Valerie was determined not to be shorn again. ‘She’s getting divorced.’

‘Oh, that’s sad.’  Valerie agreed that it was, despite the fact that she didn’t have any strong feelings either way about Michael.  Geoffrey called him ‘a people pleaser’ and a ‘social chameleon.’  She remembered the funeral of uncle Arthur that Julia and Michael attended where Geoffrey had said ‘you never know what that man believes. He just says what he thinks you want him to.’ After that she began to see the truth about Michael and had to say that her husband was right, Michael always seemed to agree with everyone, which was an impossible position to adopt.

‘Well she’s lucky she has you as a sister’ continued the hairdresser. How far off the mark could she be thought Valerie.  It occurred to her that for all of her questioning and remarkable memory of previous conversations, the hairdresser obviously just catalogued things but didn’t actually think about anything. Surely she knew how bad the family relationships were?  ‘When I was getting divorced from Charlie, my second husband, Hanna my older sister was the only person I could talk to. She was brilliant. She told me how Charlie had tried to touch her up at our third anniversary party, and she couldn’t tell me at the time because she knew I was pregnant with Chelsea. But that helped, because then I knew just what a s.h.1.t he was.’  Valerie’s mind lingered on the broken down expletive trying to work out what the hairdresser was saying.

‘Have you been to see her?’ ‘Who, my sister?’ asked Valerie.  ‘Yes.’    ‘No, not recently.’  Mother now called Julia ‘that ‘mad’ sister of yours’ and Valerie consistently failed to defend Julia.  Her excuse was that there was no point in arguing with such a bigoted point of view. She justified herself by saying that when her mother was young Julia would actually have been considered ‘mad’, having spent time in a psychiatric ward. It didn’t really matter that back then psychiatric wards contained men with shell shock, unmarried girls with babies, homosexuals, women with post natal depression. Valerie knew she wasn’t going to change her mother’s point of view so allowed her to continue with it.

‘I don’t expect you have had the time to visit her, what with your mother and everything.’  Why did the hairdresser always manage to hit her guilt button?  How did she know what to say to get Valerie on edge?

‘No, well we have been exceptionally busy lately and Julia is in the Cotswolds, not the easiest place in the world to get too.’  ‘I’ve never been to the Cotswolds, is it nice?’  ‘If you like sheep and stone, and trout streams, yes it is.’   From the hairdressers face it was obvious she didn’t particularly like any of them. ‘It’s very ‘County’ if you know what I mean?’ The hairdresser smiled.  It was obvious she didn’t.

‘So, did you find anywhere?’  ‘Pardon?’ replied Valerie.  ‘In Switzerland? You were looking for property.’  ‘Oh, yes well we’ve had our eyes on something for a while, a delightful chalet not far from Verbier. We’ve made an offer, Geoffrey is going out again in a weeks time to tie things up.’

‘That’s nice.  So will you be renting it out?’ Valerie was visibly shocked at the hairdresser’s assumption that they might have to rent anything in order to keep it going. ‘Oh no, the family will be able to use it, but we couldn’t possibly have other people staying there.’   ‘I’d rent it if it was me, because it would give me more income, pay for the flights and that sort of thing.’ Valerie didn’t respond to the comment, but she did manage to say that she felt her hair was now the right length.  The hairdresser carried on for a moment or two as if to assert her right to determine when the cut was actually finished and then she said ‘There you are Mrs. Mitchell.’

The woman did her usual tidying up which amounted to stuffing her bag with the random articles on the kitchen table and then vacuuming with her battery powered cleaner. ‘By the way Mrs. Mitchell, I’m sorry to say I’m going to have put my prices up next time. It will be another two pounds I’m afraid. It’s all this inflation, with the petrol and everything.’ 

Valerie made it clear from her expression that she wasn’t very happy with the price rise but grudgingly agreed that the cost of traveling had gone up. The hairdresser took the money placed on the table and left.  Valerie looked at herself in the mirror. She was showing the signs of age.  Her skin was looser than it had been, and there were wrinkles around her eyes and at the edges of her mouth.  Then there was her throat, always a problem for women of her age. She would either have to start wearing high neck sweaters and silk scarves or take the plunge and talk to Geoffrey about surgery.  She turned sideways to examine her shape and recognized the familiar round belly and slightly swollen hips.  Her visits to the gym and her badminton were keeping the inevitable at bay but she was still clearly a woman in her early fifties.  She noticed it so much more when Helena was home from university; she was as lithe as model and had that perfect skin of a young girl.  When she’d first met Geoffrey she had been that shape, she’d had that taut desirable skin, but two children and a life had formed a different person, someone with whom she was familiar but by no means close to.  Valerie did not want to get to be comfortable with the woman in the mirror because if she did she might empathise with her and allow her leeway.  Wasn’t it bad enough that the scales reminded her every morning not to eat, without having to have the mirror show her the results of her occasional indulgence?  Julia didn’t have that problem of course, she remained thin and youthful despite her personal indulgences over the years, and she also retained her abundant hair. She had not adopted the formal approach of the fifty plus woman to become ‘bobbed.’  But then Julia was not typical and Valerie was not Julia.  Thinking about food was beginning to make her feel hungry so she did her usual on hairdressing day and furtively went to the kitchen cupboard to get herself a cigarette. There was a question in her mind, which went ‘wrinkled skin, or less weight?’ in the end she decided that the odd cigarette wouldn’t do too much damage, it was all a matter of degree.  Outside she lit the cigarette and drew the smoke deep into her lungs.  She felt the immediate change in her metabolism as her heart rate increased and her eyes watered slightly. 

She realized she needed the cigarette to come to terms with the thought of visiting her mother.  The ferry was booked for three that afternoon.  She would drive down to Portsmouth take the car over and then make her way across the Island to Ventnor. At least it was a decent day.  The sun was out and there were a few scattered clouds going nowhere in particular.  The drive took about an hour and a half on the mainland and half an hour on the Island, add in the ferry time of another hour and it meant she would have to leave about one o’clock to arrive at four thirty.  It was a total nuisance having to go all that way but the alternative of trying to convince her mother to move to the mainland was unthinkable.  Geoffrey had suggested ‘a home’ somewhere in Surrey, far enough away for her to be ‘out of their territory’ but still ‘within striking distance.’  It made her sound like a potential target for a drone strike and had he the power to order such a thing Valerie had no doubt he would have done so without a second thought for any collateral damage.  

She had a vision of the Daily Mail with the headline ‘Old folks disintegrated to appease son in law.’  Geoffrey could be very cruel when it came to her mother.  Valerie knew that it was all connected with his own mother and the fact that they did not hit it off.  As a result he’d developed a barely disguised distaste for older women. Another reason for her to keep fit and discuss the possibility of a neck tuck and face lift.  Cigarette butt in the wormery she began to get her things together for the trip.  It would be an overnight stay during which she had promised her mother she would sort Brian’s things out. Due to Brian’s unanticipated disappearance his clothes were still hanging in the wardrobe, his shoes and slippers on the rack, and in the en-suite bathroom various male toilet items such as the razor and soap brush.  Valerie’s mother had refused to go back into the master bedroom because of these objects and was camping out in the second bedroom and complaining about the second rate views of the sea, as if Valerie could magic them better.  The thought of Brian’s things jogged her memory ‘bin bags’ she must take some bin bags in which to dispose of them.  She had asked the Police if they wanted his possessions, but they weren’t interested, they said it was Brian they were after.  By the time Valerie arrived at the house she was exhausted.  Despite the sunshine in Surrey that morning, the rest of the UK seemed to be under a massive cloud that decided to drop it’s load as soon as she approached the A3.  Motorway travel had never been her idea of an enjoyable time. With the excessive water and hazardous conditions it all added to her stress about her mother and conspired to wear her down.  She knocked on the door and waited impatiently for Lucy to open it. She thought Lucy an odd name for someone from the Phillipines but it was on her passport, which had to be checked before they could employ her. Geoffrey insisted this was done as he ‘wasn’t going to employ an illegal immigrant.’  Eventually Lucy appeared, smiling as always.  Lucy was round and homely and so short Valerie looked down on her.  ‘All Phillipino’s are short’ insisted Geoffrey ‘everybody East of the Mediterranean is short.  They were given the short gene when the gene pool was divided.’  Valerie wasn’t sure whether he was joking or being cruel but it didn’t matter because he laughed anyway.  

‘Hello Mrs. Mitchell how are you journey?’ Valerie said nothing about her misuse of the English language.  She had tried to correct her when they first employed her but her advice fell on deaf ears.  ‘Not very pleasant Lucy, especially on the motorway, it has been raining since I left home.’ ‘So sorry to hear Mrs. Mitchell.’ ‘How has my mother been?’ asked Valerie, afraid that she might have deteriorated. ‘She fine.’  Lucy never spoke ill of her mother, which was a blessing. She needed Lucy to be alright with her because to find someone else would be near impossible.

‘Has she been taking her medication?’  ‘Oh she take it, but she don’t enjoy.’ Lucy chuckled. Her remark was not in any way unkind, in fact Valerie knew it was a massive understatement.  Her mother, Janet, had reverted to some form of childhood in which she seemed to think that metaphorically stamping her feet at the slightest thing was perfectly alright.   ‘She watch TV all the time.’  Valerie smiled.  Her mother had taken to her bed, switched on the TV and switched off her mind.  It was as if the TV had taken over from her brain, it did the thinking for her, and as the TV didn’t move, didn’t plan, didn’t do anything of any consequence, neither did her mother.  The problem was of course that it was the last thing she should be doing.  Janet should be getting exercise, stimulating her thought processes, moving around and trying to get her body back into some form of normal functioning.  Lucy had tried her best but in return had received massive amounts of abuse which she took with remarkable patience and understanding. Janet ‘didn’t want a live in carer,’ and ‘she didn’t want someone who couldn’t speak the queens English.’   The alternative, as Valerie had explained to her, was to move her to the mainland.  This altered her view on certain aspects of the arrangement, but she retained her dislike of Lucy who was altogether too cheerful to have around when she needed to be miserable whilst recovering from her illness.

‘Is that you Valerie!?’  Her mother must have heard them talking and was shouting from the bedroom.  ‘Yes, I’ll be up in a moment!’  ‘You like cup of tea?’  ‘Yes, I’d love one thank you Lucy.’

With that she swallowed hard and walked the plank towards her mother’s room.  ‘I thought you would be here earlier than this’ said her mother, peeved at Valerie’s late arrival.  ‘It was pouring down all the way and as a result I missed the ferry I was booked on.’ ‘You should have left earlier if you knew it was raining.’

‘Well it wasn’t at home, the skies opened up the minute I got to the A3.’

On the wide screen television which took up the corner of the room was a show about moving to the Countryside.  A man and his wife were looking around a large oak beamed house in Dawlish and seemed unimpressed.  ‘They only go on it to get a free holiday’ said her mother.  Valerie who never watched daytime TV was confused.  ‘I thought they were house hunting’ she replied. ‘That’s what they say, but they never buy anything.