Slippers in Her Teeth
Charles shut the door behind him quietly, set his laptop bag down on the hallway tiles, and shrugged off his overcoat. There was a suspicious silence in the flat.
Sarah! Sarah, are you here? he called. Im home, love.
He paused, listening. Not a sound, not a whisker of movement. Nothing at all… as if the apartment had been abandoned.
Charles glanced about the entryway. Had he made a mistake? Gone to the wrong flat? All this work was enough to send a man round the bend! The managers were always piling on more: Come on, Charles, break the targets! The HR folks nagged on about downsizing, asking why he was dragging his heels. And the clients constantly breathing down his neck… But he, Charles, was alone, fighting all of them, all by himself!
No, it did seem to be his home. There on the shelf lay Sarahs hat, and her fur coat was hanging upthe very one her father-in-law brought from Paris last winter.
Sarah, I am here! Charles called, making his way down the hall towards the living room.
There, atop the settee, Sarah lay in her dressing gown, crimson varnish on her toenails, cucumber slices over her eyes. Seemed shed been napping. Hanging off the wardrobe was a rather dashing dressscarlet, with sparkling beading and a satin ribbon at the waist. Beneath it, elegant black heels stood ready on the floor.
Charles frowned. Whats all this, then? Were they going somewhere? Had he forgotten somethingagain? In his mind, he pictured the calendar, every important family date circled: wedding, her mothers birthday, his father, first meeting, first kiss, Christmas… How could he forget Christmas?! No, this wasnt it.
Sarah, has something happened? he asked, gently shaking his wifes shoulder. Why are you lying here?
She gasped, as if waking from a deep sleep, sat up, the cucumbers dropping onto her dressing gown. Sarah hastily popped them in her mouth, squeezed her eyes shut, then glanced at the clock and sprang up in horror.
Oh goodness! Ive oversleptoverslept, you silly girl! Charles! Charlie, darling, she exclaimed, running to him. Just give me a moment! Do you mind stepping out for ten minutes, love? No, fifteen minutes is better. Please? Charlie, out you go! she babbled, turning him to face the door and giving him a nudge. Go on, now!
Sarah, Ive only just got home. Im shattered and… Charles grumbled.
Thats why, because youre tired and home, you must go out for a bit. Please, trust me. I asked, so out you go, she said, words tight through her teeth.
Charles, sulking, grabbed a sweet from the little bowl that always stood on the table, shrugged, and trudged towards the front door.
Should I take my coat? he muttered as he opened the door.
Yes, of course! And swap your shoes. Hurry up, Charles; do stop dawdling!
Sarah was clearly anxious. Has she gone mad? They say Alzheimers sets in young these days… he thought gloomily.
All right, Im going, gone! Ill be on the stairs, having a smoke, he called back.
Splendid, Sarah replied, slamming the door. Ill be quick!
Inside, he could hear a rustlesomeone unpacking cardboard boxes, by the sound of it. Then, the kitchen filled the stairwell with delicious aromas.
Somethings up, Charles mused, swallowing, lighting a cigarette.
Mr Thornton, the neighbour, came in from the chilly outside.
Charlie, what are you doing out here? Mind if I have a fag with you? Weathers something, eh! Uncle Pete grunted, shaking snow from his cap, stamping his boots. Winterfarmers leap for joy… he began, but stopped. Charles seemed half-asleep against the wall.
Been working late? the neighbour asked sympathetically.
Nah… Charles exhaled slowly, watching smoke curl up to the cold ceiling. Stopped by my sisters on the wayneeded a hand.
Eliza, eh? Thats a tenacious woman, Uncle Pete nodded.
Shes decent. Just divorced, no one to help her round the house, so I pop in sometimes. All she does is nagOn and on, on and on… Drives me barmy, really. And now Sarah has got something planned and told me to wait. Never mind. Hows things here? Hows Mrs Thornton?
Oh, coping. She tolerates me, even praises me now and then! Uncle Pete chuckled. Went to see the children, spoiled the grandkids. Not bad at all.
Thats good, then. Charles managed a weak smilehe meant to say more, but the door to his flat flung open, and there stood Sarah, radiant in her red dress and heels, hair done up like a starlet at the BAFTAs, gold sparkling on her neck, wrists and ears.
Charlie! she gasped, eyes wide with admiration and delight. Youre here, my love! Why are you standing there? Come in, do come income and rest, you poor thing, youve had such a day! She threw her arms around his neck, rumpled his hair, pulled off his scarf.
Let me help, thats ityour coat, scarf, hatoh, of course.
Charles, taken aback, awkwardly hugged her back. Uncle Pete coughed, for Sarah was truly a vision.
Good evening, Mr Thornton, Sarah whispered as she ushered her husband in. Thank your wife; Ill bring back her dishes later.
Right… Pete nodded, flustered.
Charles undressed slowly; his coat zip jammed, so he fiddled and sweated, all the while gawking at his wife. She secured a tray from the side table, then faced him, all ceremony.
Uncle Pete, sighting this, froze in surprise. Sarah closed the door, leaving him no choice but to go home to Antonia…
Bread and salt, my dearest, my one and only husband. Wet your lips with a tot, then have a nibble of what the Lord has sent! Sarah declared, holding out the tray. On it sat a brimming shot glass, fat strips of bacon, hunks of proper English rye, onions pickled in vinegar, and sliced gherkinsCharless very favourites. Come nowdont turn your nose up at my offering!
Sarah, whats this about? Charles gaped. He wrestled his coat off over his head, cursed quietly, reached down to untie his boots, but Sarah was already kneeling to pull them off for him.
There you go, slipperskept on the radiator so your poor feet, frozen in your speedy little car, can thaw. Ill wipe the shoes later and pop them neatly here to dry. Come, into the kitchen, my fine fellow! You shall dine like a lord.
Sarah bowed right to the floor, trailing her hand across the parquet like some palace maid.
Charles meant to ask something, but Sarah wouldnt let him get in a word.
Now, sit down. Oh! Your hands! Lets have them washed first. She proffered a basin and the towel from her shoulder. Oh, how I love you, Charlie, truly I do, Im ready to drop to my knees. Shall I? Would you like me to?
No need for all that, he whispered at last.
Right. Then, lets begin our meal. First, salad. Tastedelicious, I promise! She plopped a pile of Russian salad (the sort borrowed from Auntie Toni) onto a gold-rimmed plate. And, of course, a drop of vodka. Kept it in the icebox, so it slides down your throat like mercuryand chills your stomach just as you like. There you go.
Charles knocked it back, following up with salad. Odd, all this, but delicious.
Sarah stood by, beaming as he ate, tutting gently, shaking her head fondly, ready with a linen serviette for any stray crumb or spot.
All done? Sarah perked up. Now for the hot supperbeef stew with root veg, truly healthy, honest, from the organic shopthirty pounds the kilo, fancy that! Sarah plucked a clay pot from the oven. The aroma! Divine! Foreign recipe, not like those dreadful dining hallsmine comes with herbs and a whisper of spells
What?! Charless eyebrows climbed high. Sarah! Were not millionaires! Why spend so much? Id be happy with a pork chop. Or a roast chicken…
Forgive me, sir! Sarah collapsed to her knees, wincing at the pain, choking back a sob. I care for your health and happiness. Ill eat bones, but Ill see you, head of our household, dined like a king. Eat! Please, just eat the dratted stew! Suddenly she sprang up, tears running, smudging her makeup. What more do you want, eh? Sorry theres no red carpetcouldnt borrow one, though those Joneses have one, but refusedsaid it was hiding scuffed floorboards. Oh, and the cutlerynot enough for silver. Ill try harder. Ill pamper you, Ill scratch your back and…
Charles pushed his plate aside, stood, towering over his wife like a giraffe over a tiny mouse.
Right. Were going to sit, and youll calmlycalmly, mindexplain whats going on. Slowly, clearly, so I can understand, because Im on the verge here! He pulled Sarah up by the hand, plonked her into a chair.
Whats happened? You tell me! Sarah shot back, but his heavy hand held her in the chair. She pulled over the pot of beef, the veg, and poured herself a glass of wine, then chewed through a mouthful furiously. Charles watched in silence, afraid to interrupt her appetite.
Its your Elizayour blasted sistercalls and tells me off! Says she gave me her darling brother, tore a hole in her soul, and what do I do? I keep you in rags, dont even feed you properly, dont buy your favourite pint, dont fetch your slippers in my teeththough I should! Where did you find me, Charles? At the station, remember? You dragged me out of the gutter, made me a person, and I, ungrateful that I am, only torment you. Thats the story.
What? Sarah, dont talk daft! Whats Eliza got to do with it? Charles grimaced.
Oh, please! Dyou think I dont know you go to her every week and moan about me? Cant press a shirt, cant crease your trousers, dont let you drink a drop. Is it true, or not?! Was it, Charles, or wasnt it? She thumped the table, drained her glass in one, and sniffed Charless hand, making him flinch.
No, never! Well, I go round to help, true. Shes alone, its not easy. Were family, have to stick together. She asks me herself… he stammered.
But of course he had moaned, in jestEliza urging him to claim all was grim with the wife and splendid with her, the saintly sister whod raised him. And hed said so, because seeing her cry was unbearable. She knew it, and, when she needed, shed well up instantly. Then hed remember small grievances at home.
She calls, and you come running. Maybe you should go live with her instead? She can carry your slippers in her teeth! Your great size-twelve slippers wont fit in my mouth, but hers probably will. Beer, spirits, and all the rest. Go on! Honest, I wouldnt mind! Sarah shrugged.
No! No, dont be silly! Charles yelped. How could he do without his dear Sarah, his small, sweet mouse? Dont need slippersI can go barefoot! Im not drinking anymore; no time, makes my head hurt. I want to be with you…
Really? Then why dyou always go whingeing to her, like some old woman? I dont gossip about you to anyone. I tell everyone were perfectly happy. And we are. Or were. But your Eliza cant help poking at me. Every Monday youre with her; every Tuesday she rings me.
Why didnt you say before?
And why dont you tell me when youre going to hers? Sarah shot back.
I know it annoys you, so I keep quiet. Sarah… Charles pouted and sighed.
Dont give me excuses. Talking about me behind my back… Well, Charlie, weve got a marriage all righta real dud! she brushed his hand off her shoulder.
Elizas just having a hard time, is all… Charles started up his usual defense.
Shes brought it on herself. Ate her own husband alive, he only just escaped. Shes a vampire, Charlessucking you dry! So you come back here always tense, irritable. I feel like youre about to divorce me. And me, on Mondays Ive extra lessons with the slow pupilsIm half dead by the end!
Truth be told, it was Eliza who raised Charles. When he was little and their parents worked long hours, she stayed with him. Later shed help with his schoolwork, even pleaded with teachers if he got into trouble. Their parents had died young, so Eliza guided him through first love, first cigarette, first night out, all under her keen eye. She married, moved away, but left Charles the family flat, and kept coming by, checking he was alright, not getting into mischief. If she caught him with friends, she sent them all packing: Charlie needs to study! shed declare, shooing the boys out. Her own husband wrote it off to sisterly devotion. But when Charles introduced Sarah, Eliza saw a rivalwhen he announced their wedding, she cried through the night.
At the ceremony, she sat silent as stone, not wishing them happiness, not shouting Kiss the bride! or dancing.
Stop sulkingyou look like youre at a funeral! her husband urged. Lets show the youngsters how a proper couple does the waltz!
But she couldnt. Her feet simply wouldnt carry her, as the saying goes. And Sarah, meanwhile, hung on Charles at every chance, almost as if by design.
The two never grew close. Charles, meanwhile, trod a path to his sisters, accustomed to her always being there, knowing everything.
Well, shes family… Charles mumbled, chewing a mouthful of beef. This is delicious, Sarah! May I have seconds? He held out his plate, hoping to distract her, have a laugh and forget the rest.
But Sarah swept up and strode off to the sitting room.
Help yourself. And tell your darling Eliza about it. Shell have plenty of sympathy. Off she went, and soon the sound of the telly and a clanging on the upright piano followedSarah, when anxious, retreated to the keys, though lacking both training and ear, so the cacophony was heart-rending.
Mr Thornton, who lived next door, cast a strict eye at his wife Antonia.
You see how its done! First she welcomes her husband home, all dressed up, heels and all, daring makeup, bearing a tray of nibbles and nectar most proper. Then she serves supper, next a musical turn, just for his digestion. And what about you, Antonia? He heaved a sigh about his wasted life. All I get is Wipe your feet!, Mind your filthy hands!, Peel the potatoes, you lazy oaf!, Buy bread!, Why do you stink of gin again? and so on. No, Antonia, you just cant see a mans soulnot at all…
Antonia jutted out her chin.
And you think you know all about souls, do you? Ha! We know your types well. Scurrying off to your sisters to moan about the wife, then swanning home for hot meals and coddling. Well, go find another wholl see your soul, Pete! She strode off to the wardrobe. Im leaving!
Mr Thornton choked on his cutlet, turning crimson.
Where are you going? he croaked.
To a convent! she snapped. And Im taking Sarah. Thats that, Peter. Your parents will be roundsee how you get on.
With a sigh she fetched her battered old leather suitcasethe very one her mother, and her grandmother before, used whenever leaving their husbands. The leaving case, always roomy.
I wont let you! Pete wheezed, grabbing her arm, but she shook him off, snapped the case shut and stormed out, refusing to look back. Coat on, door slamming behind hergone! Pete gaped, then hurried after her, slinging open the door.
There on the landing stood Sarah, suitcase in tow.
Well, love, shall we? Antonia asked quickly, glancing at her husband. Since neither of us is wanted here.
Yes, Sarah nodded. Careful on the steps, Auntie Toni…
And so they went out into the cold, headed for the bus stop, and boarded the first bus to come along.
Mr Thornton and Charles caught up after three stops, panting and red, hatless in the bitter air, standing at the back by the doors, speechless.
Would you mind stepping off, so we can talk? Charles whispered to the ladies.
Oh yes, what a request! Look away, Sarah, were not wanted. Move on, driver! Antonia shrugged indifferently.
The doors shut. Even so, Pete and Charles found themselves on the bus, trailing their wiveswhere to, what did it matter, so long as they were together.
They were all silent. After a time, Sarah, prompted by Antonia, moved to sit next to Charles, who immediately took her hand. Antonia glared her command for Pete to sit by her side.
Im a bit chilly, Antonia quipped, wiggling her shoulders. Best warm me up, yes? One last cuddlebefore the divorce. And she flashed a sly grin.
Pete carefully wrapped an arm round his wife, as wary as if she might give him an electric shock. She leaned in, still as a statue.
Charles drew Sarah closer, too.
Forgive me, please, he whispered. Ill talk to Eliza… I wont let it come between us, Sarah. I love you. I want no one but you. And everything about you is just right for me! Do you hear? Just right! Our life is the bestour family life!
Pete and Antonia averted their gaze, touched and embarrassed by the enthusiastic way Charles and Sarah kissed.
Charlie! came Elizas voice down the phone. Charles, whats going on? Im out of groceries and this place needs a good hooverwhere are you? Youll come after work tonight!
Cant make it, Eliza. Sarah and I are off to the theatre, Charles replied, eyes squeezed shut.
What? thundered his sister. I, your sister, live alone and pining, spent my youth raising you, and you give me the cold shoulder? Arent you ashamed?
A man shall leave his mother and cleave to his wife, and they shall be one flesh, Charles responded. Truly, Ive paid my dues, Eliza. No time tonight. Come round ours at the weekend if you like.
Eliza huffed and hung up. Once shed had a good cry, she dialled her ex-husbandperhaps hed come round and do the hoovering for her…
