The Lives of Women by Christine Dwyer Hickey

Of
course
. You didn’t make it back yourself, Elaine?’
    â€˜No. No, unfortunately. I tried but… Well, the way things worked out, I just missed it.’
    â€˜That must have been terrible for you.’
    â€˜Yes.’
    I pour water into the dog’s bowl and lower it to him, his tongue hooking up to it even before the bowl reaches the ground.
    â€˜And how is your father taking it?’ she asks. ‘It must be tough losing someone after all those years.’
    I can’t think of anything to say and so just keep nodding my head, slowly.
    â€˜I’ve been meaning to call round. But I wasn’t sure if – well, you know…?’
    â€˜And and… what about your lot, Brenda, how are they all doing, huh?’
    â€˜My kids you mean?’
    â€˜You have kids? Great. You married then? You always said you wouldn’t.’
    â€˜Yeah, should have listened to Maggie Arlow. Anyway I bloody didn’t. Sorry, we separated a while ago. I’m still a bit – you know –
raw
. The kids are with me. Well, me and my mother. I’m back living at home.’ She rolls up her eyes and gives a bitter, flimsy laugh. ‘Imagine? At my age? Jesus. And you? Did you?’
    â€˜Marry? No.’
    â€˜So are you back for good now?’
    â€˜Just till my father is sorted. What about the others, Brenda – how are they?’
    â€˜The others?’
    â€˜Your brothers and June. How’s June?’
    â€˜Gerry is a policeman, a detective actually – must have inherited the genes – quite high up too, just like Daddy. Peter is a market gardener up North. He married a lovely Chinese girl, two of the most beautiful children – but he’s divorced now. Daddy died a couple of years ago, you heard?’
    There’s a short silence and I wonder if this is where I’m supposed to say how sorry I am. I take off my coat and throw it across the back of the chair.
    â€˜And June?’
    â€˜June? Oh you know. June lives in Birmingham. Or she did, last I heard. She doesn’t really keep in touch. She used to phone Peter the odd time but…’
    â€˜I see.’
    â€˜Yeah, well, that’s June for you.’
    â€˜She was such a beautiful girl.’
    â€˜Yeah. But you know, I really,
really
don’t want to talk about June.’
    â€˜Right. Would you like tea, Brenda?’
    She nods, opens her coat, pulls off her scarf and stands clutching it in both hands, blinking at the table. Then she finally comes out with it: ‘I see the Shillman house has been sold.’
    â€˜Has it?’ I turn away and begin filling the kettle.
    â€˜You didn’t notice?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜Well, it’s been sold. At least I think it’s been sold – there was no sign up or anything but the whole place is being gutted. I’m surprised you didn’t hear the racket?’
    â€˜I heard something all right, but you know – people are always fixing up their houses, aren’t they?’
    I stick my head into the cupboard and begin fussing around with cups.
    â€˜It’s been rented here and there over the years.’
    â€˜Has it?’
    â€˜Lying empty for the past while, though. God there were some right specimens went through those doors, I don’t mind telling you. The United Nations building, my father used to call it.’
    â€˜Who bought it – do you know?’
    â€˜Never mind who bought it, Elaine! Who sold it? That’s what I’d like to know!’
    I put two mugs on the counter and go back to the fridge.
    â€˜And where did all that stuff come from?’ she continues.
    â€˜What stuff?’
    â€˜Their things. The garden is full, front and back. Furniture,clothes, everything. I was in the house a few years ago. I didn’t see any of it. Come on, I would have noticed.’
    â€˜I’m sure you would.’
    â€˜What’s that supposed to mean?’
    â€˜Nothing.