The Afternoon Tea Club. Jane Gilley

it.

      So she decided to stay in the toilets until she felt sure Raymond would have found a seat somewhere else. Then she went back and ordered tea and a piece of chocolate cake from the helpers.

      ‘Oh and here’s your name sticker. It’s Marjorie, isn’t it?’ said Eileen coming up to her.

      Marjorie turned in puzzled surprise. She’d told no one her name.

      ‘The girl in the yellow cardigan, over there, overheard your daughter calling you Marjorie last week. Her name is Stacy,’ Eileen said.

      ‘Oh right. Thanks!’ Marjorie said, relieved, but then nearly jumped out of her skin as Eileen positioned the sticker just below Marjorie’s left shoulder and pressed lightly.

      Marjorie already felt flustered by this week’s experiences in the community centre. And she felt out of sorts at Eileen’s easy manner as she stuck the name tag on her. Well, sure, Marjorie’s hands were full, so it made sense, and it had been done with care, but it made her realise that the only person who ever really touched her, these days, was her daughter, when they hugged. Marjorie wasn’t even one for hugging her own friends when she chanced to see them. It was behaviour she was not used to.

      A tear pricked her eye. Everyone here was being really nice to her. It was a new experience for her and she was finding it difficult to accept.

      ‘Hi, Marjorie!’ called the girl in the yellow cardigan, loudly enough for Raymond to now know who she was, Marjorie realised. ‘Come and sit over here with me.’

      As Marjorie sat down with her tea and cake, she studied Stacy. In a way it was infuriating that she couldn’t remember where she knew her from. But did the girl want to be her friend, like Eileen or Taynor had suggested they could if they wanted to, last week? Goodness, there was at least a sixty-year age gap between them! The thought made her chuckle as she placed her tea and cake on the table. She took a large mouthful of the cake to stifle her laugh and it was so delicious it made her sigh instead, which elicited a remark from Stacy.

      ‘Good, isn’t it? Everyone’s saying they’ll come every week if we get chocolate cake. It’s a real treat isn’t it? I don’t get to eat cake much,’ Stacy said with a sad smile. ‘So did you make any suggestions? Did you put them in the box or just tell Eileen? I just told Eileen I’d like to go to the sea for the day. I’m a country girl you see. My parents have always worked the land. Mum said we stayed in a caravan in Mablethorpe when we were little. We went there to see our cousins, but I don’t remember it. So I’d really like to go to the seaside proper. I work in a library near here. Don’t mind it – it’s a bit boring sometimes but it’s near where I live and it means I can keep an eye on my cats. I’ve got eight cats, you know. They’re a bit rowdy and I got scratched recently but I do love them. So what do you usually do with your time or do you—’

      ‘Good grief! Please stop!’ hissed Marjorie, covering her ears.

      The other women around the table gasped, their mouths opening ever so slightly in shock at Marjorie’s response. Marjorie glanced about herself nervously. Oh no, I’m doing it again! she thought in dismay, judging by the way the other women were scowling at her. Stacy’s eyes dropped to the table. The poor thing suddenly looked as if she was about to cry.

      One of the women with the name Doreen on her chest took hold of Stacy’s hand.

      ‘It’s okay, love. I think this woman probably has a headache or something. I’m sure she wouldn’t have meant to be rude to you otherwise, would you, Marjorie!’ the woman said, glaring at Marjorie.

      Marjorie felt flustered. Well, that had all come out wrong! She had wanted the silly young woman to shut up, of course, but she shouldn’t have said anything. She should have simply moved tables when she’d started annoying her – that much was clear. So she mouthed a ‘Sorry’ to everyone on the table and then gathered her tea and cake and moved to a different table – a table where there was just one other little old lady sitting there, eating her cake with a fork, and who seemed much more civilised.

      However, whilst Marjorie munched her cake, she suddenly felt tearful. She was sure she didn’t really belong here, amongst these people, despite the delicious chocolate cake. No, this experiment wasn’t working for her. Perhaps she’d persuade Gracie to take her out for proper afternoon tea in an upmarket hotel somewhere instead of having to deal with these unbearable people, here, with their funny ways.

      Then to top it all off, Stacy approached her table with two paracetamols in her hand.

      ‘I’m sorry you’ve got a headache, Marjorie. Here! Take these with a glass of water. You’ll soon feel better!’

       Chapter 5

      Gracie stood, with her hands on her hips – just like she used to do when she was a little girl, trying to stop her mother and father fighting, Marjorie thought wryly.

      ‘So when this girl approached you, you got up and left. Is that what you’re telling me, Mother? After what you said, which was totally rude and nasty, and then the sweet little thing gave you tablets because she thought you were ill? How can you ever face her again, after that?’

      Marjorie didn’t want to row with Gracie today. And it irked her that Gracie used the kind of language that only someone who looked after schoolchildren would use when the students needed reprimanding. Not that Gracie reprimanded anyone at school. She only scolded her mother, which made Marjorie feel like a naughty schoolchild.

      ‘But she was so annoying; so needy. All her words were tumbling out and running into each other. There was no “off” button. It was like she hadn’t spoken to anyone in years and it was all just dribbling out of her!’

      ‘So that was enough to make you tell her off? This poor young woman’s manner? I thought the organisers said they wanted you all to make friends with each other?’

      Marjorie buried her face in the tea towel she was using to dry their dinner plates.

      ‘But I don’t want to make friends with all those people down there. They’re a funny bunch of characters. And some of them don’t seem right in the head.’

      ‘Well, now I’ve heard everything! Have you heard yourself? You’re starting to sound like my father!’

      ‘Well now you’re talking rubbish. I’m nothing like Oliver,’ Marjorie snapped.

      ‘But we all know that the abused often become the abusers, Mother,’ Gracie said quietly. ‘You’ve let yourself down at that place and I must say I’m disappointed by your behaviour.’

      Marjorie bit back the tears that threatened to overflow. Saddened by her daughter’s comments and unable to justify herself, she stomped out of the kitchen and snatched her coat off the banister, intending to go for a walk to calm herself.

      A light drizzle accompanied her down the street. She found a wet bench in the little park nearby, and sat down. A man threw a stick for his dog. The dog kept retrieving it delightedly and running back for the man to throw it again and then they left. Marjorie let her tears stream down her face unchecked whilst no one was around. She sat there deep in thought until the rain matted her hair and she didn’t even flinch when a slow trickle wound its way down her neck.

      She didn’t understand herself but, more importantly, she didn’t understand others. Their behaviour was different to hers. Sure, she knew they all had challenging lives; they’d seen and done numerous things and that made them speak and act differently to her. Horses for courses! She’d had a horrid life with Oliver apart from their wondrous gift of her dear Gracie and maybe some of those people at the community centre had lived through horrid lives too. That said, Marjorie could see there was something wrong with Stacy in a way that there was also something wrong with herself; loneliness being at the heart of it. But she couldn’t deal with other people’s problems – didn’t want to deal with other people’s complications – when