The Woman who Went to Bed for a Year

When Ruby poured the tea, Derek rhapsodised over the teapot. He exclaimed, ‘A teapot, a milk jug, a sugar bowl, china cups and saucers, and apostle spoons!’

Ruby was thrilled that here, at least, was a person who appreciated the niceties of life.

Jo stood the camera on its three legs and fiddled with the lens. She mumbled to Derek, ‘The light is good,’ and switched on.

Derek said to Ruby, ‘Can I ask you a few questions about your daughter?’

Ruby was flattered. ‘Of course you can.’ It had always been her ambition to appear on television.

Derek motioned towards Jo, and said, ‘She’ll need to thread a wire through your clothes, so watch out, Ruby, she bats for the other side.’

Ruby was baffled.

Jo said, ‘He’s trying to tell you that I’m a lesbian, and implying that I would like to sexually assault you.’

Ruby looked a little fearful.

Derek said, ‘It’s all right, Ruby, our Jo has got what they call a “same-sex life partner”, she’s not on the pull.’

After Ruby had applied her fuchsia-pink lipstick, and a small microphone had been clipped on to the neck of her blouse, the interview began.

Derek said, ‘We need to check for sound level. Mrs Brown-Bird, what did you have for breakfast?’

Ruby recited, ‘Two cups of tea, cornflakes, egg, bacon, sausages, black pudding, grilled tomato, fried bread, beans, mushrooms and toast.’

Upstairs, Eva woke from an uneasy dream. She had been running away from Michael Parkinson.

When she was fully awake, she went into her normal routine. She shook her duvet, straightened the pillows and looked out of the window She saw a Mercedes van with East Midlands Tonight written on the side, parked opposite. She could hear voices coming from the kitchen, including her mother’s.

She shouted, ‘Mum!’

After a moment, she heard the kitchen door open, and footsteps in the hall.

Her mother’s voice reached her, complaining about the stairs. ‘These bleddy things will be the death of me.’ She staggered into Eva’s room and sat down heavily on the soup chair. Why don’t you get a stair lift?’ she panted. ‘I can’t go on doing this five or six times a day.’

Eva asked, ‘Who’s downstairs?’

‘Derek Plimsoll and a lesbian.’

Eva looked blank.

‘Derek Plimsoll. You know the one. He’s on the telly. East Midlands Tonight. He makes a joke and taps his papers together at the end.’

Eva nodded.

Well, it’s him, and a lesbian. I’ve just done an interview with them.’ She touched the clip-on microphone.

Eva said, ‘Have you won the accumulator on the Bingo?’

‘No, it’s about you.’

‘Me!’ said Eva.

‘Yes, you,’ said Ruby. ‘Derek Plimsoll reads the Mercury like everybody else in the country. He wants to interview you for what Derek calls “an extended slot”.’

Eva stood up in her bed and stamped up and down on the mattress. She shouted, ‘Absolutely not! I’d rather eat my own vomit! Go downstairs and tell them I decline.’

Ruby said, ‘And the magic word?’

Eva yelled, ‘Please!’

Ruby was not used to Eva shouting at her. She said, tearfully, ‘I thought you’d be happy. It’s television, Eva. It means you’re special. I can’t go down there and tell him you won’t do it. He’ll be disappointed, heartbroken even.

‘He’ll cope,’ said Eva.

Ruby dragged herself out of the chair, muttering, and began her descent.

Once Ruby was back in the kitchen, she told Derek, in a loud whisper, ‘She says no, she’s in decline, and she’d sooner eat her own sick.’ She said to Jo, We had a dog that did that… disgusting! I was glad when it died.’

Derek’s smile slipped. ‘Ruby, I can’t leave this house without interviewing Eva. I am an extremely experienced and respected journalist. I have my professional pride. So, madam, would you please be so kind as to go back upstairs and stress to your daughter that I have interviewed every celebrity to set foot in the East Midlands. I have shadow-boxed with Muhammad Ali. I have asked Mr Nelson Mandela some penetrating questions about his terrorist past and, may God rest her soul, I have flirted with Princess Diana.’ He bent down and whispered in Ruby’s ear, ‘And, by God, did she flirt back at me. I sensed that, had she been alone without her hangers-on, we could have had a few drinks and… well, who knows what might have happened? I was game for it, she was game for it…’ His voice tailed off, and he gave Ruby a salacious wink.

Ruby was a thrilled co-conspirator. She nodded and turned.

Eva was waiting impatiently for the sounds of departure but could hear only her mother, talking to the staircase, saying, ‘It’s all right for you, staircase, all you have to do is stand there, it’s me that has to climb you. Yes, I know you’re creaking, but at least you’re made of wood. When I creak, it’s my poor bones you’re hearing, and it’s painful.’

Eva was not surprised by this.

Her mother had always talked to household objects. Eva had heard her only yesterday, saying, ‘Come on now, iron, don’t run out of steam, I’ve got three of Eva’s nighties to do yet.’

Ruby leaned against the door jamb, trying to get her breath back.

Eva stood on the bed, glaring down at her mother. ‘Well?’ she said. ‘Why haven’t they gone?’

Ruby hissed, ‘You can’t say no to Derek Plimsoll. He interviewed Princess Diana, when she was alive.’

Jo was watching Ruby’s interview on the camera screen. The fuchsia lipstick made her look as though she was haemorrhaging from the mouth.

Ruby was saying, ‘Eva’s always been a bit strange. We thought she was retarded for years, doolally. She used to make up plays in the back garden, using the rabbit in a non-speaking part. They’d practise all day, then I’d have to go out and watch. I’d take some knitting to pass the time. The rabbit was rubbish.’

Jo told Derek, ‘We can’t use any of Ruby’s long shots. She had her legs open, you can see her big knickers.’

Jo was fed up. Her love of cinema-verite was the reason she’d studied film at Goldsmith’s, but she’d hoped to work with Mike Leigh and improvising professional actors, not the general public. They were hopelessly inarticulate and usually fell back on familiar phrases, such as ‘It was a nightmare’, ‘We were devastated’, ‘It hasn’t sunk in yet’ and – the old favourite – ‘I’m over the moon’.

Five minutes later, when Eva still hadn’t come down, Derek said, ‘I’ve had enough of all this fart-arsing about, I’m going up. Follow me!’

He was slightly unnerved by the prospect of what was upstairs. He’d had a few nasty surprises in the past, like the 103-year-old man who, when Derek asked for the secret of his longevity, shouted, on a live interview Wanking!’ He whistled the theme from The Exorcist as he slowly climbed the stairs.

Jo said, ‘We’re skating on thin ice here, Derek,’ as she followed him up, filming as she went.

When Derek reached the landing, he hissed at Ruby, ‘Get out of the way, you’re blocking the shot!’ then pushed by her, making her stagger a little.

Jo said, ‘A nice shot of you pushing an old lady aside there, Derek.’

Eva saw Derek Plimsoll and a woman with a camera on her shoulder coming through the door towards her. She shouted, ‘Don’t let them in, Mum! Close the door!’

Ruby didn’t know what to do. Jo was also conflicted; she didn’t like the way this was going. The lovely woman she saw through her lens was obviously terrified, but Jo was surprised by the starkness of the white room. The light was beautiful. She could not turn her camera off, so she adjusted the white balance, and carried on filming.

Eva scrambled under the duvet and shouted, ‘Mum! Mum! Phone Alexander! His number’s in the book!’

Jo managed to film a couple of seconds of the woman’s face before she scrambled under the white duvet.

Derek walked into the shot. He announced, ‘I’m in the bedroom of a woman called Eva Beaver – or, as tens of