‘Where are we going?’ asked Suzanne Lowe.
‘To Moscow,’ was the unexpected reply.
45 Edna Dakin Takes to the Road
Coventry’s mother-in-law, Edna Dakin, was only half listening to her son Derek. The other half of her attention was focused on the street outside where, as usual, nothing was happening. She saw another woman of her own age group looking forlornly out of her window. Edna thought, ‘It’s these awful buildings; they’ve put a spell on us, a dreary grey spell. Why haven’t we got colours and patterns and plants that grow up walls like they have abroad? No wonder we don’t want to walk about in the ugly plain streets they’ve built for us.
‘And that new community centre!’ Edna scoffed. ‘Nasty low echoing concrete thing that is. I used to work in a laundry which was more comfortable and pretty than that.’ Edna felt a huge rage swell inside her chest as she looked out upon the rows of identical concrete houses stretching down the hill. ‘No wonder the kids broke the young trees,’ she thought. ‘It’s because they can’t wait for them to grow.
‘And those terrible shops! Which they call a Parade, a parade of shops. Ha! But a parade is a nice thing, a celebration. You wave a flag at a parade. You don’t buy your groceries at one. And why is there nowhere for children to play?’ asked Edna in her mind. ‘They ought at least to learn how to play before they go on the dole.’
‘Mum, are you listening?’
She turned her slummocky body round to face her son. What a little runt he was! How did he end up with Coventry, so beautiful that she turned heads where’er she walked? Like the song.
‘Mum, you’re making a noise.’
‘I’m humming an old song: “Where’er she walks, cool vales …”‘
‘But we’re having a conversation …’
‘No, we’re not, Derek. It takes two to have a conversation and, as usual, you’re talking and I’m forced to listen.’
‘Mum! Aren’t you well?’
‘I’m as well as somebody can be who’s bored out of her bleedin’ brains.’
‘Mum! I’ve never heard you use bad language before.’
‘Oh, I use it quite a bit when I’m on my own indoors. I ‘eff and blind like mad. I enjoy swearing.’
‘You’re not well, are you? It’s all this worry about Coventry, isn’t it?’
‘Funny Derek, but I’m not worried about her at all. I’m sort of pleased for her. I wish I’d done the same.’
‘What! Murdered someone?’
‘No. The running away bit. I mean, it’s exciting, isn’t it? She could be anywhere: Timbuctoo, Constantinople, Land’s End, anywhere. Better than living round here and going to the shops once a day. I’ve decided I hate my life, Derek. I’m having a go at changing it.’
‘How?’
‘Well, for a start, I’m having driving lessons.’
‘Driving lessons? You’ll kill yourself!’
‘No I won’t. I’m quite a sensible woman, and there is such a thing as dual controls, you know.’
‘It’s ridiculous. How can you afford a car? You’re a pensioner.’
‘When I pass my test, I’ll cash in my funeral insurance.’
‘You can’t do that, what about the coffin you wanted — and the mourners’ cars? And the sit-down funeral tea?’
Mrs Dakin laughed at the panic-stricken expression on her son’s face. ‘Let the council burn me up. I’ve paid ‘em enough rates over the years.’
A car hooter sounded outside. Derek got up and went to the window. A driving school car was parked at the kerb. A young man was settling himself into the passenger seat.
‘That’ll be him,’ said Mrs Dakin. She turned the gas fire off, picked up her handbag and went into the hall.
“Bye Derek,’ she said, pointedly.
They left the house together. Derek walked away without looking back.
He heard an engine revving fiercely, then the driving school car accelerated past him with his old mother at the wheel. She papped the hooter and waved. Derek watched as the car vanished over the brow of the hill. In his opinion the car was exceeding the speed limit by at least fifteen miles an hour. He made a note of the name of the driving school: Surepass. He would telephone them when he got home and report the instructor who was supposed to be teaching his mother to obey the laws of the road.
Derek wondered why all the women he knew appeared to be going mad. It wasn’t just members of his own family. The girls at work were getting stroppy: demanding things, more money, improved conditions, flexi-hours. And hadn’t women’s voices got louder? Weren’t their clothes gaudier and their bodies taller and more imposing? Derek lumbered home, like a dinosaur unhappily parted from its swamp, uneasily sensing that the climate was changing.
Epilogue
Six months to the day have passed since Coventry ran away from her home and family. Since then a Russian Christmas card has arrived at Badger’s Copse Close addressed to ‘the children’. There was no message. The inside of the card was completely blank, but the children knew who it was from.
RUTH Has stopped taking her contraceptive pills. Sidney doesn’t know. Ruth will not inform him until she is twenty-nine weeks’ pregnant.
SIDNEY Has been promoted: he is now Area Manager for the East Midlands, a total of thirty-seven stores. Since his promotion sales figures have increased dramatically. One of Sidney’s first recommendations to head office was that all references to ‘Shops’ should be changed to ‘Centres’.
HORSEFIELD Is living in a caravan with Barbara and Matthew just outside Cambridge. He attends a theological college. He is very happy, he doesn’t know that Barbara isn’t.
PODGER Thinks about Coventry as soon as he opens his eyes in the morning. He is alone in the double bed. His wife has left him and is living with a Labour candidate. One of Podger’s arteries is furring up. He doesn’t know this, and won’t until the blood fails to get through to his heart on 2 August 1992.
DEREK Has had a triumph. Naomi won him Best of Show at a United Kingdom tortoise convention. Derek’s and Naomi’s pictures appeared in the local paper, under the unfortunate headline, ‘Fugitive’s husband comes out of his shell’. There is a woman, a certain Mrs Daphne Pye, who is very interested in Derek. She thinks he is a marvellous conversationalist. Daphne is a tortoise fancier, she can do the foxtrot and she is a non-smoker.
MARY Has turned into a beauty, she works hard at school, she thinks about her mother constantly.
JOHN Is retaking his A levels. He has also turned into a beauty. EDNA DAKIN Passed her driving test at her first attempt. She bought a left-hand drive Vauxhall Chevette in metallic blue. It cost her two hundred and fifty pounds. She is hardly ever to be found at home.
SLY Is dead. He burnt to death on the M1 motorway on his way back from Gatwick. It is believed he fell asleep at the wheel. All documents pertaining to Coventry Dakin were destroyed in the fire.
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Sue Townsend, Rebuilding Coventry
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