Page 10 of Little Wing
‘But wedidhave the plate.’
‘You did?’
‘But mine broke – almost as soon as I got it.’
‘The plate, the cup, the saucer,’ said Nell, ‘it was called a trio, apparently.’
‘A trio.’ Her mother looked suddenly bereft and a tear traced a jagged path halfway down her face.
Nell put her hand gently on her arm. ‘I’ll try to find a matching plate for you. I’ll ask the shopkeeper to keep an eye. I’ll look on eBay. Don’t upset yourself, Mum.’
‘Mum?’
But Nell didn’t have the energy to say, it’s Nell, Mum, it’s Nell. She’d done so a number of times already.
‘A trio,’ her mother said again, mournfully. ‘Could someone please take me home now?’
‘Come on,’ said Nell. ‘I’ll take you up. Perhaps we can see what’s on the box.’
‘Not you!’ her mother cried out. ‘That one! I know her!’
One of the care managers, Marcia, had appeared. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Almost,’ Nell said. ‘For a while there, everything was almost all right.’
‘I want to gonow.’ Her mother was fractious, her voice brittle, edged with frustration or sadness or rage. Or maybe all three. She regarded Nell. And Nell watched as something akin to recognition, and something else that screamed fear, briefly surfaced in mother’s eyes.
‘Florence – go away! Go back to Harry’s.’
Her mother started to weep.
‘I know you’re not really here!’
As Marcia guided her mother away, Nell sat for a while in the numb stillness of the room. Slumping into the chair, she took a sip from the green-glazed cup synonymous with institutions everywhere. What was it with the milk here? Why was there always a tinge of sourness? It tasted horrible. She’d bring her own milk next time. That’s what she could do. She turned the saucer over. Beryl. The crockery was called Beryl and it made her laugh uncontrollably.
‘Oh, Nell.’ Marcia had returned. From the heave of Nell’s shoulders, she thought she was crying.
‘Your teacups!’ Nell hooted. ‘They’re called Beryl!’
Marcia smiled kindly. Often enough she dealt with all levels of incongruous emotions among the visitors. Best just to keep on as if nothing was amiss.
‘Her sister came by last weekend, you know,’ she told Nell. ‘Brought chocolates.’
‘Really?’ Nell’s laughter slipped away into a sigh. ‘Did my mum know who she was?’ A little reluctantly, Marcia had to nod. Just then, Nell wanted to be as far away from this place as possible. If she wasn’t known, what was the point of being here?
Driving along the lane towards the dual carriageway, she thought of her aunt. How long had it been since she’d seen her? She felt strangely irked at not knowing she had visited so recently. Their family was tiny – just the sisters left now, really. You couldn’t count her father because they had never been able to count on him at all. She should go and visit her. Her aunt was only an hour or so further on. It was irrelevant that Nell had always found her somewhat frightening. She was family none the less and she ought to visit her, or at least phone. Nell, though, went home.
Nell in her flat, eating a second Pot Noodle straight after the first, squeezing the sauce out and then sucking the packet empty. It struck her that this was arguably the most pathetic way to spend her Saturday night. Debbie had sent a message to say a couple of them were going out for a curry but Nell had said, truthfully, that she had other plans. She didn’t qualify what they were and she certainly wasn’t going to say I’m going to eat Pot Noodles and hunt for a plate on eBay.
Her laptop was already very hot on her legs. Recently, it had been doing this more and more. She’d fully expected it to explode when the fabled Millennium Bug was meant to hit but miraculously, five years later, it was still functioning. She logged on to eBay and started to browse.
Discovering that there were quite a few examples of Clarice Cliff Coronation tableware was strangely deflating and that many were located in the United States just seemed wrong. She was relieved to see that the shopkeeper’s prices had been fair. There were complete sets as well as various components being sold separately. Some were the same form, the same design just without the turquoise, some had flaws, some had damage but there were no single plates for sale. Cups and saucers. Complete trios. And just the one listing with a saucer and the plate and that’s what Nell bid for. In fact, she didn’t have to bid at all. It was Buy It Now for £10, with £3 postage on top. It was all a little unsatisfying; she’d been relishing the hunt, the anticipation of the shrewd last-minute bid. But with a single click, it was hers. The trio would be reunited. And Saturday evening stretched ahead.
Dougie
‘Did you always want to do this?’
Michelle’s question took Dougie aback. It was his last day at the shoot in Colliers Wood. Wheelbarrows, brooms and shovels, hurdles and gate mechanisms, bolts, ground spikes and galvanized storage bins had all been photographed and logged. Today was going to be a colourful finale. The remaining stock was comprised of aerosol cans of sheep marker in blue, green, red, yellow, purple, black as well as tubs of something called raddle powder, Stockholm tar in a can, vivid blue obstetrical lubricant gel and ketosis drench in bright pink, all in various sizes. There were shepherds’ whistles in plastic or metal, ten different colours, and bottles of something called Insta-life with a retro-style label Dougie was particularly taken with.
