Bella Summer Takes a Chance (22 page)

‘No, dear, actually I’d like to be distracted right now. I’m not fond of hospitals. I spent too much time in them with Tony.’

I tried to think of something to take her mind off The Colonel lying in the next room. Between Clare’s pregnancy, my joblessness and Kat’s decision to hire a private detective to follow James, I was likely to make her want to slit her wrists. ‘Well, speaking of Tony, will you tell me more about Hong Kong?’

She smiled at the memory. ‘They were wonderful days. He was something, my Tony. He could hold an intelligent discussion about any topic under the sun. That’s what first attracted me to him. I’d never witnessed such a thing. My family weren’t what you’d call intellectuals. They were doers, which had its merits, but they weren’t great thinkers. I hadn’t gone to school past the usual – you’d call it high school – and nor had my friends. Even if the war hadn’t come along, there were only a few girls I knew who’d likely have gone on to become teachers or nurses. Most of us went into domestic work. That was what girls like me did.’

‘You didn’t work during the war, though?’

‘Oh, yes. I did for a lady called Missus Cooper who lived in a big house on the other side of Bristol. She had eight little ones and I cleaned for them, and did the shopping.’

‘It sounds so normal. I didn’t expect that. I’ve got a view of the war from history books. I imagined everyone living in air-raid shelters, queuing for rations and painting on their tights.’

She chuckled. ‘That’s the problem with learning from books. Gives you a very two-dimensional view of the world. No, we lived our lives as normally as possible. We did have rationing, of course, and went to the shelters when the sirens sounded, but we also went to work, still had family dinners, went to the cinema, worried about fashion and all the other things young people do today.’

‘That’s why it’s so nice to hear your stories, Marjorie. You’re a living history book!’

She smirked. ‘For better or for worse. How did we start talking about the war?’

‘We were talking about school, and education.’

‘That’s right. I’d done well in school so the university accepted me when I applied, even though I was an
old
student. Oh, I was excited! Finding that little pot ignited a lifelong passion for me. Sometimes I wonder how my life might have been different had I not found it, or been able to go to university.’

Was that a nod to fate from a woman who professed not to believe in it? ‘Fate threw you in Tony’s path, then.’

‘No, B., I threw me in Tony’s path. I don’t know why you insist on this idea of fate when you are clearly driving your own destiny. You should be proud of that, not dismiss it as a cosmic certainty.
You
decided to move to London, didn’t you? You realised you weren’t happy in your relationship and you took the steps you needed to change it. You found a flat with that lovely young man to share. You’ve worked successfully in your field for years and now that your assignment is cancelled you are pursuing your music instead of finding another job. That’s not fate, my dear, that’s
you
. You’re taking the chances in your life. Just like I did. I applied for the university course and got on. I chose my classes and met Tony. I carried on a wonderful relationship with him and eventually we married. We decided together to move to Hong Kong to be near his parents, who were getting old.’ She sighed with pleasure. ‘What a fabulous place Hong Kong was! Tony had told me all about his home, of course, but nothing prepared me. I expected a traditional Chinese city, whatever that means. Rickshaws and coolies, I guess, if I’m honest. But it wasn’t like that. It was modern, with tall office blocks and flats and traffic snarls and people crowding the pavements, some wearing miniskirts and drainpipe trousers. I loved it. Yet all you had to do was scratch the surface to see the tradition. Many of the Chinese girls wore cheongsams of the most beautiful silk in such vivid colours. Between the dresses and the neon signs and the markets, the colour was everywhere. Oh, the markets, B., you should have seen the markets. Just off the main roads jammed with buses and taxis and office workers were narrow streets, no more than alleys sometimes, lined with vendors. The colours and smells and sounds in the wet markets. They were all over the city, because that’s where the meat and fruit and veg were sold. This was before supermarkets arrived so we shopped at the markets every day. As I recall, a supermarket did open, but most people still shopped the usual way. The locals sniffed at such an idea, having a shop like that. They called it Gweilo Market.’ Seeing my question she added, ‘Gweilo is what they called us foreigners. It either means ghost or foreign devil, depending on who’s saying it. There wasn’t much in the way of overt racism towards me, though. I can’t say the same for our treatment of the Chinese.’

‘It must have been hard for you and Tony, being a mixed couple.’

‘Oh yes, certainly. Our friends were lovely, of course, but strangers stared, and worse.’

‘What about your families? Did they accept it?’

Marjorie married Tony the year after they met, which would have been around 1967. Their mixed marriage would still have been illegal in some US states.

‘Well, my parents were no longer around by the time we married, but Tony’s were alive, as I mentioned. They did their best but never really warmed to me. It was too hard in those days, especially for well-to-do Chinese who had enough of their own social pecking order to worry about, plus the usual colonial racism. Most of the British clubs were restricted to gweilos, even in 1970 when we arrived, so I can understand my in-laws’ own pressures. Tony and I just muddled through, and did our best to ignore the inevitable objections. But we never hid our relationship. We were too in love for that. And besides, there was no way to hide our races. It hurt at times, but since I was never going to blend in, I generally did as I liked and didn’t worry about what other people thought. I guess I still don’t, and I’ve got Tony to thank for that.’

‘It sounds like you’ve got Tony to thank for a lot of things.’

She smiled. ‘Yes, I do. We had nearly thirty years together and I don’t regret a minute of it.’ She looked wistful. ‘I didn’t expect thirty years with The Colonel, but I hoped for a bit more time.’ She sighed.

‘He’ll be all right, Marjorie, I know he will. Wait here. I’ll just check whether we can go in to see him. I’m sure he’d love to see you.’

Fear gripped me as I approached the reception counter. What if they told me he’d died, and I had to tell Marjorie? ‘Hello? I’m checking on the patient that was brought in a little while ago, with a heart attack?’ The nurse was certainly taking her time with her computer screen.

‘Yes,’ she said slowly, as if double-checking something before she continued. My heart thudded in my throat. ‘Are you family?’ I nodded, bracing for bad news. ‘He’s through those doors to the right.’

‘Is he?’ Gulp. ‘He’s not dead, is he?’

She looked startled. ‘Goodness, no, I don’t think so! The doctor will be with him.’

‘Oh, thank you, thank you!’ I was so relieved. Marjorie would get more time with The Colonel. She’d have the chance to say and do whatever she needed to ensure she had no regrets.

Did I have regrets? I knew what Marjorie would say if she hadn’t been busy wheeling determinedly towards her puckered paramour. Could-haves didn’t matter because the fact was, I did what I did. But then, that very minute, I knew I wanted to do everything I could to build my music career. If it failed, then so be it. But if it failed because I never gave it the chance to succeed, then I would have regrets. I was calling People on my way home from the hospital.

Chapter 19

The Colonel counted his blessings as he lay in the hospital. No sooner had the doctor unhooked the beeping machines and pronounced him a very lucky man than he climbed out of bed, struggled onto an arthritic knee and proposed to Marjorie. I was a blubbering mess, but even The Grandson cried. Marjorie kept her usual composure, graciously accepting his offer to make an honest woman of her, and suggested a small wedding in a few weeks. I was going to be the bridesmaid! ‘It’s so romantic, don’t you think?’ I asked my friends as we sat around the trestle dining table. ‘A summer wedding.’

The vague nature of the Bacchanalia Dining Society had piqued our curiosity, just as it was meant to do. Members-only dinners in secret locations texted on the day of the event with no idea what’s on the menu? There was no better way to convince urbanites to part with £50 to eat random food amidst the urban decay of an abandoned car park, and enjoy the experience. The crumbling concrete twinkled with fairy lights, which seemed to be disorientating the pigeons that occasionally whizzed overhead. They must have wondered why we’d so rudely invaded their roost. If I spoke pigeon, I’d have told them the truth. We’d been brainwashed to think that combining dinner with bird droppings was trendy.

‘Wow, I haven’t been married even once.’ Faith pouted.

‘Cheer up,’ said Clare. ‘You’ve got plenty of time for a string of husbands.’

She brightened at the prospect.

‘Besides,’ I said. ‘You can’t begrudge them at their age.’

‘It’s a very beautiful story,’ said The Hairy Biker. ‘Our capacity to love throughout our lives is what binds us all together and makes us human.’

Kat grinned at him like he’d just rivalled Shakespeare. She figured it was time we met the wooer of married women, the breaker of families. She was so sure we’d love him that she decided to throw him in the lions’ den rather than let us take strips off him one at a time. Much as I tried not to, I did like him. As a person. I still resented him as a home-wrecker.

What was happening to us all? After ten years of status quo, the rate of change was unsettling. Faith had more than overcome her flaw intolerance. She was positively gorging on behaviour that would have sent her into shock six months earlier. Fred was a man who hemmed his jeans and wore hand-softening gloves to bed. She’d rejected dates for such unmanly behaviour as not knowing how to connect the Freeview box. They were talking long-term plans. I heard Frederick mention that they’d go to Cannes next year for the film festival. Next year! Faith’s forward-thinking rarely extended beyond lunch.

Meanwhile, Clare was doing nothing but thinking forward. She was four months away from creating a new person. Words like amniocentesis and placenta crept into her vocabulary. She started measuring time in weeks, as if breaking time into smaller units till D-day (d for dilation) somehow slowed it down. And Kat was contemplating walking out on her marriage.

‘B., Kathryn tells me that you’re a lovely singer. I hope you don’t mind that I looked you up on YouTube. You are really remarkable.’

Argh, flattery. Straight for my Achilles heel. ‘Thank you very much. What kind of music do you usually listen to?’

‘I like the classics.’

I could just picture him head-banging. ‘Mmm, I was a big Guns ’n’ Roses fan in university.’ It wasn’t exactly thrash metal but it was the closest I got.

‘Oh-oh-oh-oh sweet child o’ mine,’ Clare sang quietly, doing her best to be snake-hipped in her chair but succeeding only in looking a bit green around the gills.

‘Oh, no, B., I meant classical music. I don’t pretend to have sophisticated tastes, though,’ he added shyly. ‘I prefer the more mainstream composers like Vivaldi, Beethoven, Handel, but I’ve also developed a taste for opera lately. I’m a member at Glyndebourne. It’s only about ten miles from my sister’s house so I can stay over there when I take my nieces to performances. Have you been?’

I’d been trumped in the culture stakes by someone who smelled of motor oil. ‘No, I haven’t been there. I tend to gravitate more towards solo singers, or world music.’

All right, so he actually smelled of Hermès d’Orange Vert.

‘Ah yes, very nice. There are some great venues in Camden. Are you familiar with the area? Some of them are wonderfully intimate. Though the Barbican has much to offer too, for some of the bigger performers. I saw Ladysmith Black Mambazo there a few years back. They needed the big room to accommodate such a big sound. Very powerful. It moved me to tears.’

Kat said, ‘We’ve got tickets for the Bolshoi next week.’

‘At the Royal Opera?’ I enquired politely while trying to adjust my perception of this leather-clad Lothario.

‘No, in St Petersburg.’

‘Russia?’

‘Well, it’s not Florida,
Spatzl
. We’re going for the long weekend.’

Well, that’s bolshoi. ‘What about the boys?’

Kat shot me a hurt look. ‘My mother is coming over to look after them.’

‘B.,’ said The Hairy Biker, sensing Kat’s discomfort at my pointed question. ‘This must be hard for you, for all of Kathryn and James’ friends. My best friends broke up a few years ago and it’s devastating. I was their best man. I’m godfather to their son. We’d been on holiday together every year since we were twenty-five. Suddenly they announced that they were divorcing. It was a bombshell. They were happily married, as far as we knew, yet they started talking through lawyers. It calls into question everything you think you know about them, and your friendship with them. Often we blame ourselves for not seeing the signs. And I certainly don’t blame you for resenting me as James’ replacement. But I’m not the reason for their marriage breaking up. We meet people all the time, don’t we, single people, sexy people. If you’re in love with your partner, then no matter who you meet, you’re going to stay happily together. If you’re not in love, then there’s very little to keep you together, whether you meet someone else or not. I’ll consider myself lucky for the rest of my life that Kathryn came into it when she did. If I hadn’t stopped to help her, we may never have met.’ He shook his head. ‘That thought makes me terribly sad.’

I gave up. He was a reasonable, kind, cultured man who’d obviously walk through fire for my friend. Dammit, I really hoped to hate him. ‘It’s just going to take me a little while to make the transition, that’s all.’ I grasped Kat’s hand, looking at The Hairy Biker. ‘I’m happy for you both.’