There was so much Maude didn’t know about Dottie’s work during the war, snippets really. Even Uncle Konki was cagey but then again, his whole life was a mystery and he loved to tease and speak in riddles, quoting Russian proverbs with a twinkle in his eye. He had a faded scar that ran from the corner of his eye, along his cheek, and when she was little she would sit on his knee and trace the line with her finger. No matter how many times she asked how he got it, the stories were varied, a duel with a bear, a sword fight with a Tzar, she still didn’t know the truth. Him and Dottie were as bad as each other with their half-stories and stubborn ways. But apart from their lives of covert mystery, recently there was something different about her gran. Maude had noticed it since the VE Day celebrations. She seemed a bit far away, like she was working through a problem that only she could solve.
That was Dottie all over. Independent and stubborn, she could tear a strip off you with a look never mind a verbal assault, but then she could be cuddly and kind, fiercely protective, and wickedly funny. She sometimes wondered why her mum had struggled to get on with Dottie because Maude had her figured out from being a child. It was simple. With Dottie you had to give and take, pick your battles wisely and know when to stand firm or capitulate gracefully.
Like the time when she was about seven and Dottie collected her from school. Maude’s best friend Desiree called her parents and grandparents by their first names and on the way home, she told her gran all about it. Dottie said it was a wonderful idea because if she was honest, the word ‘Gran’ always made her sound old. After they bought ice-lollies from the van and made their way to the park, Dottie made a suggestion.
‘I’ve had an idea, let’s ditch boring old “Gran” and instead I’ll be your Dottie, won’t that be fun?’
Maude sucked the juice out of her strawberry lolly before answering. ‘No. I like calling you Gran, that’s what you are, my gran. My mum is my mum, not Jean, and Dad is Dad, not Ralph. That’s how I like it.’
‘I know that, darling, but it’s just a word so why don’t we be all hip and trendy, like Desiree’s family?’
The conversation went downhill from there.
‘Because you’re not hip and trendy, that’s why.’
Dottie stalled for a second, rooted to the spot on the path before retaliating. ‘What do you mean, not trendy? I am, look.’ Dottie motioned to her well-cut Marc Jacobs suit. ‘I’ll have you know everyone thinks I’m very stylish.’
‘Yep, you are. I love that you always dress up and wear nice make-up and pointy high shoes and I’m glad you’re not a hippy like her grandma and I don’t want you to be. I want you to be Gran, my boring old gran who wears smart clothes and smells nice. Not like a cat.’
Diverted for a moment from the main crux of the conversation Dottie asked, ‘A cat… who smells like a cat?’
At this Maude rolled her eyes and took a huge suck of her lolly. ‘Desiree’s family all smell of cats because they have about…’ Maude started to count on her fingers, ‘More than ten anyway and when you go to their house they are everywhere and you get covered in hairs, and it smells funny too. They have poo boxes in the kitchen.’
‘The cats?’
‘Yes, Gran, not Desiree and her family, obviously.’
‘Mmm, I thought so. But I saw her grandma once, at the summer fair and she had a lovely floaty dress on… don’t you think I’d suit one?’
Maude was horrified and it must have shown on her face because Dottie seemed to mimic her reaction.
‘Gran, are you mad? You’d look like you were wearing your nightie! And do you know Desiree’s mum sometimes walks to school barefoot, so if you ever dare show me up like that I will divorce you straight away, I mean it.’
They had both come to a standstill at the gate to the playground and faced each other off, Maude looking determined, Dottie had that stubborn look, and then her lips began to smile and her eyes crinkled.
‘Okay, I promise. No bare feet or nighties and I will allow you to call me Gran, but only because it’s you! Now off you go and bag that swing before someone else gets it. Here, pass me your cardigan and satchel… hurry up, run.’
With that, Maude flung her belongings into Dottie’s outstretched hands and raced to the swings, her long limbs easily beating the others who vied for the prize. Once she had claimed it Maude got on with the business of swinging towards the sky, keeping an eye on her gran just in case she wanted to go wild and decided to take off her clothes and swim in the pond… that really would scare the ducks!
It was a battle Maude remembered well over something as small as a name, but a skirmish nonetheless. The only other ones were over tinned prunes and custard – it wasn’t happening – and Maude’s refusal to allow her gran to accompany her to the family planning clinic to get the pill. Yes, it had been Dottie’s suggestion and a prudent precaution when Maude started at the local technical college, but who in their right mind takes their gran?
Smiling, Maude snuggled down under the blanket and felt herself drifting off. The sun shining through her open window warmed her face and the people on the street provided background noise.
Taily in the meantime rested under her neck and kept one beady eye on the clock, watching the minutes tick by. And had she not been fast asleep, Maude would have spotted that the silent monkey wore a wicked smile.
Dottie and Maude – Summer Holiday
2005
It had all gone quite smoothly so far and Dottie had hired a nice, comfy four-by-four because no way were they travelling in Maude’s old bone shaker, then the Eurotunnel had been booked along with a chic boutique hotel off The Champs Elysée.
Once Maude’s graduation was done and dusted, and her photograph placed on top of the bureau, they’d set off, leaving London and Lachlan behind. To be fair and although it pained her slightly, Dottie had to admit he’d been gracious and encouraging in the face of guile, but really, what could he do with the impendence of her demise? Nobody would forgive him if he’d kicked up a fuss and then Dottie had kicked the bucket.
Maude was busy rummaging through the carrier bag of snacks, convinced she’d packed two mango smoothies that had mysteriously been replaced with two cans of gin and tonic. Dottie meanwhile was people watching from the passenger seat.
‘Maude, do stop rustling, you’ve probably left them in the fridge at home. Drink the water instead. It’s much better for you than those ridiculously overpriced bottles of mashed fruit.’
‘Yes, I know that but I was really looking forward to them… Bugger.’
