Linda Phillips - Old Dogs, New Tricks

Marjorie slipped off her shoes, as was the custom in this household, and waded across yards of Axminster in search of her mother-in-law, calling out as she went. She found the stout little figure of Sheila Benson sitting in the breakfast room, as usual, busy with her needlepoint.

‘Thought you were going to the hairdresser’s,’ the older woman said, blinking up at Marjorie through glasses that magnified her eyes.

Marjorie gave a weak smile. ‘Oh … yes, that’s right,’ she said vaguely, her hand straying up to her hair. ‘But first I’ve some mind-blowing news for you.’

‘What? Not the baby already?’

‘No, no!’ Marjorie fluttered her hands at the idea. Her first grandchild wasn’t due for another ten weeks at least.

‘Wow, you gave me quite a turn.’ Sheila had struggled halfway out of her chair; now she fumbled her way back to it. ‘What is it, then, this news? You’re looking rather upset.’

Marjorie flopped into the large wing chair on the other side of the French window and sat with her feet tucked up under her skirt. A smell of spring and fresh-mown grass wafted through the open door, but she was hardly in the mood to enjoy it. For a while, ordering her thoughts, she watched the gardener that her in-laws hired for two mornings a week plough up and down the long lawn, making the first striped cut of the year. The man’s irritation with the ungainly cupid that had been cemented to the centre of his work area since last autumn was obvious by the way he kept hurling aside the electric cable.

‘Well,’ she said at last, ‘I suppose you haven’t had the radio on? And perhaps it wasn’t on the local TV news. I could hardly believe it at first. But, really, it must be true.’ She turned wide, incredulous eyes to her mother-in-law. ‘Spittal’s is closing down.’

Sheila let fall her embroidery frame. She dropped her scissors as well. ‘But … but surely that can’t be true?’ She put a hand to her chest. ‘My but you’ve given me another turn!’

‘I’m sorry.’ Marjorie knelt down to retrieve the scattered items, barely managing to locate the tiny scissors amongst the swirls of leaves and flowers. ‘I didn’t mean to alarm you. I should have broken this to you more gently.’

Sheila waved the apology aside and put a hand on Marjorie’s arm. ‘It was just the thought of all those poor people. Not to mention Philip. Whenever I hear of places closing down and folk being put out of work I’m reminded of my childhood and my father losing his job.’

For a moment her face reflected her bad memories but she quickly rallied. ‘Anyway, let’s not look on the black side. These days there are redundancy payments, aren’t there? Help from the government too. Not that it’ll matter so much to Philip; he won’t be needing it, will he?’

Marjorie was about to lay down the horse-and-cart tapestry in her mother-in-law’s lap, having first admired all the tiny stitches, though she had no patience herself for anything involving needles and thread. Now she glanced up sharply at Sheila’s words.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well –’ Sheila spread her hands as though she thought an explanation superfluous ‘– it looks as though he will be going in with his father after all. I mean to say, he’ll have no other choice now, will he? No one will give him another job at his age. So you see, it’s an answer to all our prayers – and not a minute before time. Just what we’ve always wanted.’

‘Oh, I see what you mean.’ Marjorie’s voice was faint.

‘It’s what he should have done long ago,’ Sheila went on, ‘when his father reached retirement age. In fact he should have done it right from the start, the minute he got his degree. But what he should do and what he wants to do, are two different things to Phil.’ She gathered up some loose ends of wool, took off her glasses and chewed on one of the arms. Absorbed in her thoughts she failed to notice the dismay in Marjorie’s expression.

‘What makes you think,’ Marjorie said, trying to keep her voice calm, ‘what makes you think that Phil will agree to take over the business even now? Maybe he’ll have other plans.’

‘Well, I can’t think what they would be. This must have come as a shock to him; he won’t have had time to plan anything. My feeling is that he’ll be only too glad he has this to fall back on. Ha!’ She let out a chuckle, still oblivious to Marjorie’s agony. ‘Life’s full of nice little surprises, isn’t it? There you were, thinking you’d have to soldier on alone with all the shops, and what happens? Suddenly there’s Phil beside you, free to help after all. And Eric will be so thrilled when he hears the news.’

‘But – but I thought we had it all planned …’

Marjorie watched helplessly as Sheila wrapped her tapestry frame in an old pillow case and stowed it with her wools inside a hinged footstool. Something in Marjorie’s tone must have penetrated at last; she paused before shutting the lid, then put it down at half-speed.

‘You don’t sound very happy about this,’ she exclaimed with concern and surprise.

Marjorie looked away, embarrassed, hardly trusting herself to speak. Well, she silently scolded herself, what else could she have expected ? Phil was Sheila’s son after all. It was perfectly understandable that she should be more pleased at the prospect of having him run the shops than anyone else on this earth. Certainly more than a mere daughter-in-law, no matter how much they loved her.

And perfectly right it was, too. The way it should really be. Yes, really. Who could deny it? Blood was thicker than water, when all was said and done.

Right or not, though, it was cruel. A ‘nice little surprise’ it was not. How easily she had dismissed the possibility of such a thing happening! How silly to have assumed that Philip would go more or less straight into another job. For of course Sheila was right, wasn’t she? No one would take him on in another firm now, not at his age. There was nothing else he could do but kow-tow at last to his parents.

But where did this leave her? She had never for one moment pictured Phil working alongside her in her new venture. Not that that would be the case; if they attempted to run the shops together she was sure he would immediately assume control of everything – see himself as her superior.

He wasn’t as bossy as his father could be at times, but he undoubtedly had that streak in him. He wouldn’t have got where he was today without strength and determination. Which meant that she wouldn’t get a look-in. In no time at all she would find herself relegated to the more menial tasks; not even allowed a say. As they were in their marriage, so it would be at work. How could she expect it to be different?

Oh, the idea was quite intolerable. She had wanted so much for herself. Had wanted to prove her capabilities and show Phil that she was no longer the dependent appendage that he had always seen her as; she was a person in her own right.

Glancing at Sheila she forced a smile. ‘Events are moving too quickly for me. I need to get used to the idea. And perhaps, before we speculate any further, we’d better see what Phil has to say. He doesn’t even know what we’ve been planning yet.’

‘No.’ Sheila gave a little shudder to emphasise her disapproval of this fact; she didn’t like secrets between spouses. They were unhealthy.

Twiddling her wedding ring round her finger Marjorie could only agree with her. She glanced down at the gold band that had once had a pattern on it but had now worn smooth; both it and the diamond engagement ring had channelled grooves in her flesh. Married all those years, she thought with a pang of conscience, and she’d been keeping secrets from Phil because he wouldn’t have liked what she was doing. Whatever would that old vicar who’d married them have to say about that?