“I know he’s lovely.”
“You’ve hardly said a word to him since.”
“Is he really so upset?”
“Would I be telling you if he was turning cartwheels?”
“Maybe go round.”
“You should have told him in the first place that you weren’t interested.”
“He’s lucky to have you to worry about him.”
Penny shrugged as the bus arrived. Last night Andy had woken screaming. He ran out of the house and across the damp, slushy play park to bang on Elsie’s door.
Elsie hoisted herself onto her windowsill. She opened her window, terrified at what or who she might see banging on her door.
“Tom?” She hissed. “Tom? Have you come back to me?”
Andy stared up at her from the garden. He was in his boxer shorts, hugging himself. Penny went out to fetch him. Craig made them a cup of tea. He watched Penny cuddle Andy, who had tears streaming down his face.
“That’s what he was like last night,” Penny told Mark on the bus next day. “That was the state he was in.” She thought Mark should know.
Andy kept saying, over and over, “I was dreaming of the leopard again. I always dream of him when I’m not well. He stands on my shoulders. Only now he’s eating my insides.”
Craig and Elsie stood back, baffled, as Andy clutched at Penny and told her this. He looked helpless. As Craig stared at him, he saw the scattering of black furry rings up the flat of his back. They were quite distinct, shuddering with the rest of Andy’s body as he sobbed against Penny.
Everyone was out so Penny could make a start on tea in peace.
She had her own key to Elsie’s house. The smell of the place as she let herself in was familiar and homely to her. The kitchen cupboards as she opened and closed-them, putting shopping away, smelled of tomato ketchup and burst tea bags. She put on local radio and stacked up her boxes from Marks and Spencer to read how long each thing took in the oven. She hated using Elsie’s microwave because its door didn’t quite fit. Penny had heard a story about a woman whose door didn’t fit and who stood too close to the radiation in her small kitchen. She ended up microwaving her own insides.
Am I a fag hag? She ripped open the boxes of vegetarian lasagne and pricked the plastic sheeting, as instructed, with a fork. Was it going too far to harangue a one-night stand of my gay friend on the bus back from Darlington? No, it’s not going too far, she thought. Andy was upset and I would harangue anyone for that. But she supposed she was a fag hag anyway. My natural element, she thought glumly, plumping up the sealed bags of mixed salad and shaking the various dressings, is with queers. How can it not be? And maybe that’s why life just recently with Elsie and Craig seemed so exotic and desirable. I’m living in the straight world, Penny thought. I’m taking a holiday in the world of the straight. But it wasn’t where she belonged. I’m straight, she thought, but there must still be something queer about me. She stared at Elsie’s kitchen. The ceramic dogs and chickens she kept her knick-knacks in. The corn dollies nailed to the walls. I’m on holiday in someone else’s life, she thought again, and turned the oven on.
Elsie came back when dinner was almost ready.
“That smells lovely, pet. Bless you, aren’t you clever!” She went to hang up her coat. “Craig’s out with the lads. He won’t want tea. I saw him before I went out.”
Penny tutted. She took the wine from the fridge.
“Eeeh, wine! Aren’t we wicked!” Elsie grinned. She rolled her cardigan sleeves up. “We’re like the continentals, having wine with every meal. You’re starting me on bad habits, pet. Now, what can I do?”
“It’s all ready,” Penny said. “It’s nothing special. Just stuff ready-made from Marksies.”
“You still had to put some thought into it!”
Elsie was grinning at her as Penny passed her a glass of white wine. The older woman smacked her lips. “Lovely. Not too sweet. I’m sweet enough.”
Elsie had been cheerful these past couple of days. If Penny didn’t know better, she’d think that it was a relief to Elsie that Tom had vanished. It meant she could think of him less if he wasn’t there. But Penny had been seeing lately the various layers of self-protecting nonsense which helped Elsie through each day. Elsie had thrown herself into her job at the spastics shop. She had brought Penny back a pair of scarlet patent-leather shoes.
They fitted. “If I click my heels three times, will I go home?” Penny asked.
“You what, pet?” said Elsie.
“Have you been at work today?” asked Penny. She noticed Elsie checking to see she was wearing the new red shoes.
“Not today. I went to Bishop. I popped in on your mam, actually. Still no change.” She mouthed the last few words respectfully. Penny felt stung, as if Elsie was accusing her of neglect. Elsie was beginning to sound like Liz’s very own High Priestess. Tending to her altar, sitting by it every other day, leafing through Take a Break, watchful for changes.
On the bottom of her boots Elsie had snow chains which, she had once explained to Penny, came from an offer in the Daily Mirror. Their metal teeth gripped through the black ice of pavements. They were a lifesaver. If Liz had had them that night in the play park, she mightn’t have cracked her head. Penny stared at Elsie’s boots and felt like throwing them out of the window.
“Dinner’s almost done,” said Penny.
“I’m off for a widdle.” Elsie jumped up. “I get all excited when food’s ready, don’t I?” With that she hurried through the living room.
Penny was pulling the silver trays out of the oven, a tea towel bunched around her hands, when Elsie yelled out.
“What is it?”
She found Craig’s mother staring through the window at her back garden. She was shaking from
