The Woman who Went to Bed for a Year

There’s another world, Barry. And I’m not talking about the deep web. Even a beginner can access amazing things, things that will change your life. There are millions of dudes like you online, you could connect with them. A couple of days and you’d have an entirely different perspective on your life. There are people out there who want to be your friend.’

‘I wouldn’t know where to start,’ Barry said. ‘I’ve got the book that came with the computer, but it’s all a load of gobbledegook to me.’

Brian Junior encouraged him, ‘It’s easy! You just press a few keys, and there it is – the internet, the world, laid out in front of you.’

‘Which keys?’

Brian Junior was growing tired of Barry’s obduracy. ‘I can give you some guidance, a few sites, but don’t ask me to get involved with any of that emo suicide crap. I’d help you, man, but I’m so bored with hearing the same story. Fat, bad teeth, no friends, no girl at the prom. The end.’

Barry ran his tongue over his derelict teeth.

Eva said to Barry, ‘Ignore Brian Junior and his sister, they live in a very small world called the internet, where cynicism is the norm and cruelty has taken the place of humour.’

Brian Junior agreed, ‘It’s undeniably true.’

Eva said, ‘I can give you some practical advice, if you want it.’

Barry nodded. ‘I’ll take anything that’s going.’

When you’re in the bath,’ said Eva, ‘wash and rinse your hair properly and use a conditioner. And go to a barber’s and ask for a modern cut. And your clothes… don’t wear such childish colours. You’re not a presenter on kids’ TV.’

Barry was leaning forward with his mouth slightly open, listening carefully.

Eva continued, ‘Find a good NHS dentist and get those teeth fixed. And when you talk to women, remember that conversation is like ping pong. You say something, she says something. Then you respond to something she’s just said, then she bats it back. You ask her a question. She replies. Do you get the idea?’

Barry nodded.

‘Get a good twenty-four-hour deodorant. And smile, Barry, show her those new teeth.’

Barry said, ‘I should be writing this down.’

Brian Junior was enjoying his role as an IT guru. ‘No need. There are websites for shut-ins. There’s a sort of guidebook for losers. Lots of useful information. For instance, it tells you how to walk down the street without scaring people: no direct eye contact with approaching women, and never walk behind a woman at night. Food: don’t choose spaghetti on a first date. Clothes: what colour socks to wear with brown shoes. Never wear grey shoes at any time. And stuff about sex, and so on.’

Barry half smiled. ‘I’d better go home and chuck all my grey shoes out then.’

Eva checked, ‘So, you’re not going to the railway line?’

‘No, I’m knackered. I’m gonna go home and get some sleep.’

Brian Junior said, ‘The best website is basementdwellers dot org. It’s got an American bias, but ignore all the stuff about how to behave at a baseball game.’

Barry admitted, ‘I’m not much good at reading, but I’ll give it a go. Thank you.’ He got to his feet and said to Eva, ‘I’m sorry for turning up like that. Can I come back at a proper time?’

‘Yes, we want to know how you get on, don’t we, Brian Junior?’

Brian Junior said, ‘I have very little human curiosity, Barry, so I’m not especially bothered, but I know my mother would appreciate another fleeting visit. Perhaps when your teeth are fixed? I’ll show you downstairs, give you some internet basics and the web address.’

At the door, Barry turned and flashed a smile at Eva. His mouth looked like the Colosseum without the cats.

For a few minutes, there was a low mumbling from the hallway. When she heard the door slam, Eva moved to the window and waved Barry off.

He started the engine, then did a three-point turn… and another… and another.

She realised eventually that Barry was doing the taxi drivers’ equivalent of a victory roll.

43

The snow had disrupted the country. Transport and services, including postal deliveries, were erratic.

At six thirty in the evening, a week later, a postcard from Alexander was pushed through the letter box, together with junk mail and bills. Brian took the post and sorted through it at the kitchen table. On one side of the postcard was a hand-painted watercolour snow scene of the Thames, with Westminster Bridge and the Houses of Parliament.

Brian turned the card over and read:

Dear Eva,

I am going crazy in my mother-in-law’s house, she insists we all start the day at 7 a.m., and that we are in bed by 9p.m. ‘to save on the electric’.

I have sold four pictures since I’ve been here. Although my mother-in-law thinks that ‘daubing a bit of paint on paper is no way for a man to make a living’.

We’re back in Leicester next week. I think about you every day.

Brian looked at the small painting on the postcard and made a camel-like noise. It didn’t look much like the Houses of Parliament to him. And since when had the Thames been blue and spilled over on to the Embankment like that? He considered Impressionism to be cheating, in any case.

He threw the postcard into the ‘miscellaneous’ drawer of the kitchen dresser, then turned back to the tray he was preparing for Eva. It held a plate of cheese sandwiches, an apple, an orange and half a packet of digestive biscuits.

He filled a flask with hot tea, then took the tray upstairs to Eva, and said, ‘That will keep you going until I get back. Why the fuck did they have to go to Leeds? We’ve got two fine universities on our bloody doorstep. I can see them when I’m shaving!’

There was silence in the car. Poppy was playing the penitent.

Brian said to her, after a few miles, ‘You’re not your usual chatterbox self, Poppy.’

Poppy said, quietly, ‘No, I’ve been meditating. I’m trying to find out who I am, Brian. I have individuation issues.’

The twins sniggered.

Brianne said, from the back seat, ‘I know exactly who you are, Poppy. Would you like me to tell you?’

Poppy said, meekly, ‘No, but thank you, Brianne.’

Brianne sat back in her seat, enjoying the moment.

Brian Junior said, ‘I can’t take any more of this tension. It’s not only that you’re a dangerous driver, Dad, it’s the knowledge that we all have this bitter internal monologue running inside our heads. Can we put some music on, please?’

Brian said, ‘I’ll take criticism of my driving when you’ve been behind the wheel a good few years, son. And I’m still hopeful that we can forget Christmas and move forward. Why don’t we have an interesting conversation? I’ve chosen a few topics – would you like to hear them?’

Poppy said, ‘Yes,’ while the twins said, ‘No,’ at the same time.

Brian said, ‘OK, how about youth unemployment?’

Nobody responded.

‘The euro?’

Again, nobody responded.

‘All right, something for you young people. Which would kill you faster – a shark or a lion?’

Brian Junior said, ‘A shark. By a fifteen-second leeway.’

Brianne said, ‘How about, how long have you been shagging Titania? Let’s talk about that.’

Brian said, ‘You’re not a man, Brianne. You wouldn’t understand.’