The Grin of the Dark

FIFTEEN - MOM IS RELENTLESS

She's the next best thing to a cold shower, but I retreat to my chair in case the remains of my state are apparent. It's my top half Bebe gazes at across the desk. Her chubby face has turned paler, inflaming her freckles and even seeming to intensify the redness of her bobbed hair. As she plants her hands on her hips I blurt 'Sorry, didn't realise it was you.'

'I should hope not.'

Should I have leavened the remark with a laugh? I try one with 'I thought I was talking to Natalie.'

'I should hope so.'

She doesn't look remotely as approving as her words might seem. She holds me with her gaze as she sinks onto the flaccid leather couch, and I'm compelled to add 'It's just our joke.'

Her face relaxes for a second, but only to frown afresh. 'What are you doing here, Simon?'

'Working.'

'I should hope so.'

She's beginning to sound like a tape until she stares at my desk. 'I'm asking you why you're here and that is.'

'You've got one of your investments back. There's room for a student in Egham.'

'And when were you planning to let us know?'

'I've only just moved out. My rent's paid up to the end of the month. I wasn't going to ask for any back.'

'I should hope not. We need a month's notice.'

I'm close to enquiring whether that applies to members of the family, but I say 'You gave me that.'

'Excuse me, I said no such thing.'

'Your husband did last time he was in my room. Where's Sniffer today? At home having a sniff?'

Bebe stiffens with a leathery creak I'm tempted to attribute to her rather than the couch. 'What are you saying about my husband?'

'He said you wanted to get rid of me by the end of the year.'

'That's a flaky way to put it,' Bebe says and stares harder. 'Not that. What did you call him?'

'I was talking about Sniffer. That's your bitch, isn't it?'

'If you mean our dog she's called Morsel.'

'Warren must have been having a joke.' At whose expense, I wonder, which provokes me to demand 'What kind of a name is that?'

'It's the opposite of what she eats. That's the joke,' Bebe says as she stands up. 'Where do you need driving to? I can fit those in the Shogun.'

'That won't be necessary, thanks,' I'm to some extent amused to tell her.

'I was only looking in to check if Natalie needs anything from the supermarket. I can wait if you have work to finish,' Bebe says. 'May I see?'

I'm making to cover up my response to Smilemime when I realise that I would be doing so with the site for obese sex. By now Bebe and her aggressively sweet perfume are at my shoulder. 'That doesn't look much like work,' she says.

'You don't think my reputation is worth defending.'

'I guess that might take some work. Is this how you spend your day?' Bebe says as she reads further up the thread. 'I see, you're advertising for information. Will you be doing research of your own?'

'Obviously. Here's just the latest,' I say with perhaps the last of my restraint and click the mouse.

Have I called up the wrong page in my haste? For a moment I'm sure Bebe is about to see fat naked bodies tumbling in slow motion over one another. No, I've brought up Willie Hart's email, at which Bebe peers for quite some time. Eventually she says 'So you'll be travelling. Where are you going to be till then?'

'Here.' I don't believe she was in any doubt of it, and I immediately regret adding 'I thought Natalie might have said.'

Bebe turns her back and marches into the kitchen to open the refrigerator. 'Looks like I had a wasted journey,' she says as she returns, but her pace suggests that isn't all she's thinking. She halts halfway across the room as if she wants to keep the sight of me at a distance. 'If she didn't tell us she'd taken you in,' she says, 'maybe you should wonder what she may not have told you.'

'I think she'd tell me anything I want to know.'

'And has there been much of that recently?'

'Nothing I haven't been told,' I say with all the conviction I can muster.

'You're being very modern, I must say. I wouldn't expect it of her father.'

I want to ignore the cue, but I have to ask 'What wouldn't you?'

'Have you really not made the connection? I thought a researcher would.'

'If it was important I don't believe you'd be playing games.' 'If it were, Simon. Good grief, you're supposed to be a writer.' Bebe presses her lips together, webbing them in extra wrinkles, before she says 'What do you feel you're providing for my daughter and my grandson?'

'Would love do?'

'Would it do what? We love them more than anything else we've got, and that's why we've supported them whenever they need it. Can you?'

'There are more kinds of support than just financial, and besides – '

'You bet there are, and you won't find us lacking in any of them. But it didn't seem like you had many to offer when she lost her job because of stuff she didn't write.'

'We're past that now. We've survived it together. I've had my advance from my publisher and she's got her new job.'

'That doesn't bother you.'

'Tell me why on earth it should.'

'I don't know if I'd like Warren to be so laid back. I guess some men don't dare to be too masculine these days.'

My skull is buzzing with impulses, one of which threatens to bare my teeth in a mirthless grin. It feels as if the expression is trying to fasten on my face as I say 'I can't imagine why you think I ought to be upset if an old friend has helped her find a better job. I'm happy for her and I'm grateful to him.'

Bebe takes a breath like a sigh in reverse. 'If I have to be crude for once to make my point, that's how it works. Do you really think that's all he's given her?'

'You're right, that's pretty damned crude. I didn't realise you imagined things like that about your own daughter.'

Bebe sinks onto the couch as if she's burdened by the pity in her eyes. 'I don't have to, Simon.'

'You aren't asking me to believe she's told you.'

'No, but Nicholas has.'

My rage doesn't quite rob me of speech. 'And what does she say about it?'

'She doesn't know he told us.'

'I think I should have a word with him. Maybe a lot more than a word.'

'It's a bit late to be male. You'd just be making a fool of yourself if nothing worse.'

'Forgive me or don't bother, but I'm not getting the impression you confronted him.'

'It took honesty and guts to own up. We admired him. If you ever met him you'd see the truth at once.'

I'm about to declare that I've met him and to treat her to my view of the truth about him when she says 'Okay, it could be that's expecting too much. I guess there are some things a mother sees clearest. Even Warren didn't straight away. But if you ever saw Mark and Nicholas together you'd know.'

At last I'm silenced. As I strive not to believe it, all I can see is how much more rectangular Mark's face is than Natalie's. Why isn't the computer producing its waves? They might help soothe my thoughts. Eventually an idea that I want to voice occurs to me. 'Look, I don't mean to be rude, but why should he have told you?'

'Because we asked him. We ran into him while we were shopping for Mark's new computer. Right away I saw the resemblance.'

'You're saying you asked him where? In the street? In a shop?'

'We aren't all anxious for fame, Simon. Some of us like to keep a few of our thoughts private.' Before I can retort that I'm doing so she says 'We invited him home and put him on his honour. There are still people who don't think that's a joke.'

'Let me tell you, you've no reason – '

'Your face says I have. Maybe you could let me finish. He hadn't heard how Natalie's career was progressing. He'd always supported Mark, we knew that from her, but now he wanted to do more for them.'

'So you lured her over.'

'Good gracious, what a way to describe inviting one's own child to come visit.'

'Did I figure in the discussion?'

'We told Nicholas she was seeing somebody she used to work with. She didn't mention you herself.'

If any more questions need to be asked, I don't think I want to voice them, certainly not to Bebe. My face may be expressing this, since she has found a cue to stand up. 'Well, I expect I've given you a lot to ponder,' she says, 'and you have your work as well. I guess it's time I left you by yourself.'

I won't be. I'll have the entire Internet with me, only for research, of course, though in fact for distraction. I'm reaching for the mouse, to look busy yet unflustered for at least as long as Bebe is in the room, when she rests a hand on my desk. 'You'll excuse me for saying this,' she says, 'but you've made the place look cheap.' She takes her footsteps that no longer sound at all like Natalie's out of the apartment, and as the door shuts, the computer rediscovers the sound of waves. The chatter of ripples is far too reminiscent of giggling. It might almost be a soundtrack for the blurred reflection of my humourlessly grinning face.