Chapter Seventeen

17

Anglican

Cowgirls

ELIZABETH

She’s heavier. It’s not her, it can’t be her. It’s her, older, thicker and dumpier than ever, but it’s her. It can’t be! Why would she be here? This Katherine’s her daughter; she said that’s her mother, Bea. She said the Bea, could be B for… for Barbara, or Bonnie, or something, a nickname sort of. Or Bee! Maybe she’s busy as a bee and they call her that. It can’t be Bea Sutherland. It is. But why? Because of the daughter! God, Elizabeth, get a grip.

She was heavy then. She was pregnant then. Then this Katherine must be that baby; unless she married again. Oh I’d have heard that from the Lettie girls. God yes, they did go on about some wedding… When? Oh hell, years ago. Who listens? It must have been the daughter and this… David. Yes, yes, it was down here at old Whatsername’s… Tillie’s – they bitched about having to drive so… Christ! The grandmother, that’s her, too, talking to George, she was always old and dressed to the teeth. Oh Lord! Why, what have I done to deserve this? And what in the name of hell is that gypsy bitch doing here? Something’s got to be done about this. Where the hell is Martin?

KATHERINE

Katherine stood with her back squared to the room and stared up at her picture. A great wash of pride welled up from her groin to tingle the point of her lip. Damn! Don’t you dare start a coldsore. Don’t smile, don’t move your lips. Don’t aggravate it, think it away. No, ignore it! Look at the paint. It’s here, isn’t it? Here. Don’t smile! That right corner’s overworked, too heavy, should’ve taken it right down to canvas and gone again. Didn’t though, it’s all right, looks deliberate. I still like the top edge, genius light. People like it, lots of smiles and nods. Don’t smile, look lost in concentration, they’ll leave you alone. Sure, alone, just like David’s doing. For Christ’s sake, don’t start crying! You’re here. So what? You’re here. It’s only a bank, it’s not the Louvre. And you’re not dead. Might as well be, David’s moved out. Don’t bite your lip! That bitch Preston’s up to something, I can smell it. I want my money and I want out of this hell hole. Where’s Martin?

PAUL & MARTIN

So, this’s the closet case – Paul thought David was probably right about Martin. He sighed from the pit of his belly – I’m so jaded, so pissed and tired, so very old and tired when the sight of the closet looks like a holiday. For me. He may be cute as a button, but who’s fool enough to wake Snow White? I can manage the kiss, it’s the mortgage and the major appliances…

Jesus! Well, you could blow his cover. Just his cover. Hah, very funny. He’s going to do it himself if he keeps sucking back the ripple with both hands. Guess I’d better help, “You realize if you keep drinking like that, Martin, you’re going to piss rosé and giggle like a co-ed. Let’s get you a real drink while you tell me about Art. Gin do?”

KATYA

There was no point trying to get a harness on Bena, and she’d have kicked the slats out of any kind of stall, she was going to run free until she met up with her Mister Preston, so Katya planted her bunions as comfortably as she could, turned a deaf ear and took stock. So, a group of us change our clothes and get together to drink cocktails and look at a picture in a bank lobby. A social plateau, certainly. Not every plateau’s above sea level. Still, the Medici were nice rich people, so who’s going to admit this’s silly? Not me. This is a roomful of believers. Katya’s open ear caught a note of Bena’s high whinny. She saw Maude give a wiggle of her fur-caped shoulders and watched her grasp the hands of a handsome white-haired man who stopped at her side.

BENA

Lust thickened her tongue and poured saliva into Bena’s mouth as she looked her George Preston up and down, a soldier in a gentleman’s suit of rich dark cloth. He is my friend, a man who sits with me to drink coffee and beer at a table and talks in stories about his war. I would have him in my bed, if he would come to me, but he does not. He believes, like some priests, I think, that he has no need, but still he had to have this Elizabeth for a wife. Perhaps she is just dressing for the window. Maybe that is it. I think she is not so much wanted, but she is useful. He says she talks. What can she know? What can any of these people, even my Katya who was safe in her snow, what can they know who have never lain in a battlefield? I have had shame and pleasure in my womb and understand his loathing for the murder and the rape, the blowing up and the juice of triumph in his veins and why he will not father more of it. I am useful.

MARTIN

It’s out of control. It’s all out of control. It’s not my fault. It’s out of my hands, I’m dismissed from the Presence, turned off with a flip of the wrist. Should’ve flipped her the finger. The woman’s got serious chicken-foot problems with those hands; she must get the web clipped when she gets her butt tucked. Bitch. And my Katherine let it happen, stood there and didn’t bat an eyelash. My friend. My fucking creation, for fuck’s sake, she sure as hell wouldn’t be here without me. I pulled this off and she just lets that bitch Preston… Quickly, to mask his tearing eyes, Martin drank off the gin and tonic in his fist, it cooled his throat and excused the flush. He was busy staring at Bena when he passed his empty glass back to Paul and refused to notice the fingers that tingled the back of his hand.

There’s obviously no control here whatsoever. This woman’s bizarre, somebody left the lid off the Bad Fairy Box. She looks like Joanna the Mad Infanta’s Barbie doll, tramped into the carpet and dressed up for a tea party. And this sister of Elizabeth’s, my God! I’m surprised they let her out of the barn in that dead lamb. You’d think La Preston would have taken her shopping for a decent frock before showing her to this crowd. Look at the shoes, the other one, too, feet like hamhocks. God, tacky! I’m not going to survive this. I hate this. Why am I here? I’ve gotta do something. These people are out of control, anything could happen. I’m getting pissed, David’s dumped Katherine, Bea’s a silly tit, old Tillie’s got a knife and wants me to smell her perfume, somebody’s going to start flogging Tupperware in a minute and I think this Paul guy’s coming on to me. God, it’s hot in here. This time Martin watched Paul’s fingers as he accepted a refilled glass and glanced at his eyes before he asked Maude if she knew that the saleswomen up at Holt’s called her sister the Dragon Lady.

MAUDE

It’s too late now. Maude refused guilt for double-crossing George. He’s a survivor. So’s Lizzie, hard as this stone floor. Makes it fun to drop things on her, they bounce or they break and not much bounces. For George’s sake I should’ve bounced Bena and Katya out of here before they fall on Lizzie, but what the hell, it looks like the only fun in town. And now we’ve got Bea… what is it? McAlpine, yes. And good old Tillie ‘The Torch’ Sutherland waving the family flag – a cat on old silk – and the daughter, and it’s all an accident. Oh sure. An accident waiting to happen, maybe. Well, the Lord works in mysterious ways… Yah, sometimes. There’s no mystery here, just a lot of chickens home to roost.

Except they can’t know who Lizzie is, or this Katherine wouldn’t be here with her picture on the wall. And Bea wouldn’t be. Maybe she never told her; Bea was always too good for her own good. I don’t think Lizzie ever got her hands on Bea’s man, but I’m certain it was her trying that ran him off. There’s no way they’d be here if they know who Lizzie is. Is there? Not much I’d put past that old goat, Tillie. Maybe I’d better go have a little visit.

Maude turned in time to clasp her brother-in-law’s hands. “George, you must meet my friend, Katya Saarila. Katya, George Preston. Bena, you know.” She tossed her head about innocently, “There are others. Somewhere. Now, you really must excuse me, I’ve more trouble to cause.” She beamed George a wink, pulled her hands from his clutch and made off into the crowd.

GEORGE & BENA & KATYA

Oh, do I have a headache. Resisting the need to clutch at his brow, George blinked very slowly, keeping a smile on his lips. He refused to sink. Pull out, George, pull out, get her nose up. Easy with the stick. And he drew his clenched hands to his belly and levelled off.

It’s a stroke. No it’s not. Well, something exploded and it sure as hell wasn’t an orgasm. And I thought Maude loved me. Traitor, evil witch, she’s getting a kick out of this, nothing she loves better than getting up Elizabeth’s nose. Sisters! I’ve got to do something here. It’s not my ass, I can talk my way through this one like I talk my way through everything else, it’s my job, Mister Smooth. And nothing can damage Bena, she’s had her share. Her friend seems to be able to get from barnboots to court shoes without too much fuss. So it’s Elizabeth’s ass that needs the cushion for this one. Yep. So. You’re the boss. Yes.

“Come to my office, ladies, come and see some of the rest of this beautiful old building. This renovating business didn’t get further than the foyer, the rest is still intact, wonderful old walnut in the offices and we’ve got colour up there, the boardroom carpet is something to see.” Bena was already in motion, it was the friend he had to sell, “Linenfold panelling? A Klimpt? I can pour you an excellent scotch. Quite a surprising view, though it’s only three floors up. There’s an elevator. Back there, behind. We can get out of this crowd and hear ourselves think.”

“You think that’s safe, do you?” Katya allowed George half a smile.

He took it for a gift, “Thinking, hearing and getting the hell out of here? Yes. Safer at least. Bena, this way, if you will.”

MAUDE & TILLIE
& BEA & DAVID

“Mrs Sutherland, d’you remember me?” Left arm crossed to pin her slipping jacket, right arm crossed to steady her scotch, Maude’s eagerness teetered to a stop.

“Maude Everett. You married Harry Matthew. He was a good looking man.” Tillie didn’t smile yet.

It did feel good to be remembered. Maude grinned, “Well, now, he was, wasn’t he?”

“And you got out of Strawbridge and saw something of the world. Better than a Sunday drive, the most some people get. And now you’re here and your sister is the cause of all this.”

“You knew!”

“Don’t be silly. I wouldn’t have dragged Bea along if I’d known. David there, he said he’d met you. Even a really old woman can make sense out of that.” Tillie gave up a small smile. “Your brother-in-law, George Preston, says you don’t get out much, so I don’t expect you knew either. You’d better say hello to Bea.” She turned to her daughter who chattered nervously at David and asked if she remembered Maude Matthew.

Bea knew that disaster had come at last; here it was, the tumour, the car wreck, the blindness, the pregnant daughter, the poorhouse – disgrace. In a hollow of shock, she transposed Maude Matthew to Elizabeth Preston and added Bess. Bessie Everett. For reasons she couldn’t allow, she wanted to yell ‘Fire!’

“Yes, of course. It’s been a lot of years, Maude. You look well.”

“And you, Beatrice. You’ve reason to be proud.”

“Proud of…”

“Your daughter, for the love o’ mike! This may be Lizzie’s shindy, but it’s for your daughter’s picture as much as for George’s pretty bank. She’s a success, Bea. Be proud of her.”

“Tell her again, she doesn’t listen to me. Never has.”

“And then there’s your mother, bastion of all that’s proper. You look marvelous, Mrs Sutherland.”

“Don’t encourage her. You have met my Katherine’s husband, David, haven’t you?”

“Yes, I quite like him. You know, she really is a bitch, Bea, Lizzie is. She’s well-meaning, but she has an odd affection for the truth. She doesn’t tell it, but it affects her. She thinks she’s right, that’s her real failure. You should forgive her for that and then you can really hate her for all her other smarmy little ways. That’s what I do. Otherwise I’d have put her out for adoption.”

“Sound advice, Maude. Bea never had a sister, so she’s not aware of these necessities. Now I had two older sisters who…”

“Mother! This is not tea in the church basement with the Lettie girls’ pickle recipes for conversation. This…”

“I have never eaten a Lettie pickle.”

“Oh, you have.”

“Never.”

“Mother!”

“Excuse me, I’ll send you both out to sit in the car. Is this the Bessie Everett business that Katherine was going on about this afternoon? Which one are we talking about? Which one’s the homewrecker?” David concentrated on Maude, “Your sister. Preston’s wife. Elizabeth? The hanging committee. Yes? Madame Patron… sounds like… Bessie Everett. Am I right? Do I win anything?”

“You should try to win the girl.”

“Tillie…” David’s face fell, “I’ve been at this fair a long time and I still can’t guess her weight.”

“Maybe you should sweep her off her feet and measure the poundage once in a while.” Maude felt helpful.

“Just whose side are you on here?”

PAUL & MARTIN

Standing by the bar, Paul watched George Preston steer Bena and Katya through the edge of the crowd to disappear behind the curtain wall of marble. He was disappointed, the old coot was going to salvage the situation and hide them from Elizabeth, avoiding what surely would be a classic dust-up. It was definitely ‘need-to-know’ status for the Old Liz, but Paul thought he’d better have the sense to keep his head down. He told Martin.

Disillusioned as he was, considering a future without the support of Mattress Publicity – the salary, he slept on a futon – a future without the scaffolding of family, without the net of connections, old schoolmates, old girlfriends, cousins, godparents, doctor, lawyer, portfolio advice – What future? He’d have to sell his body. He’d have no choice. He’d live in shame. Not on the streets, though, he wasn’t just off the Ottawa bus, no, he’d have to get a little flat, somewhere in the redlight district, wherever that was. Down there around the bus station, along Dundas, over the Chinese, that’s nice.

So, disillusioned as he was, Martin absorbed the tale of Dragon Lady Meets the Gypsy and Rubberboots, which sounded like an uneven tag-team match until he understood that Paul was talking about Elizabeth Preston and the two dreadful dressers who were just… Somewhere here, a minute ago.

“They’ve gone off to hide. Preston dragged them back there. I can’t figure out how he knows about the fight this afternoon unless she told him, and I don’t believe that. And how would he know them to see them? Unless he knew them already. That Maude, his sister-in-law, she invited them, she said. This is deeper than it looks, Martin, there’s a real hole in this puddle and the frogs are heading for shore. I think Dragon Person needs to be told something’s afoot.”

“A claw! Have you seen that woman’s hands?”

“Somebody has to tell her the castle’s been invaded, that the king just smuggled the bad guys thataway.”

“Elevator’s back there. Gone up to his office, I bet. Scotch, couches… God, the man’s a sleazeball. They all are. Whole world is. Sex, nothing but sex. Oops!” Martin dipped, straightened, dipped again as though it were an exercise and smiled blearily at Paul, “Gotta put a stop to it. All this free sex. There’s no romance anymore. No money for candles. I’d better tell Elizabeth, it’s my job, in the middle, I get it from both ends.”

“D’you like it from both ends?”

“Not without romance.” Martin almost collapsed from the weight of blood in his head. He didn’t believe he’d said that. “I must go. Oops. Would you hold that?” He fumbled his gin glass into Paul’s fingers, managed a weak grimace, pulled up his shoulders and stumbled off to find Elizabeth.
Paul took a deep, satisfying breath, exchanged his empties for a pair of wines, rewarded himself with a wink at the barman and glided off to introduce himself to David’s Katherine. She shouldn’t be hard to spot, someone artistic with fear in her eyes.