Hearts And Minds

A change of heart

It seems my uncle wrote after hearing I wouldn't be attending the family gathering. He didn't mention it, but enclosed a cheque for £40, ostensibly for my 40th birthday more than 6 months previous, but more or less the same amount required for a train fare. I didn't want to attend. The Crispin sisters would be there, as would Elaine, in all probability, and I didn't want to have to make awkward conversation or explain what I was doing with my life, which wasn't much. But when the cheque arrived I felt at least the outer layer of my resolve begin to thaw a little. It was so considerate of my uncle to think of me and nice of him to want me to be there. I'd been self-involved for so long I found it hard to imagine the difference between concern and courtesy.
So I made the effort to look nice and put on something timeless enough not to give away its age and made the journey over to his house on the other side of the country. It would have been easier if I could have hidden behind one of my latest toy boys but I'd been on the shelf for over a year and didn't seem to know anybody anymore.
My uncle picked me up at the station and was his usual self.
“In the words of Anaïs Nin, 'Hello'.”
“Hello,” I laughed back. That was partly my uncle being silly, mostly him tapping into my wavelength.
“I'm sorry I missed the funeral.”
“It was fun. You should have been there,” my uncle replied.
I didn't say anything but we exchanged looks.
“Yeah, Janet started laughing when the coffin was going into the oven.”
“Grief?”
“Yeah that's what I said. Good grief.”
“No I mean, was she upset?”
“Don't think so, no. I mean she wasn't LAUGHING laughing. Nobody could hear her, thank goodness, except me.”
“What do you think that was about?”
Uncle Pete pulled up to a light.
“Don't know!” was his quickfire response. “Oh, I almost forgot. Jessica and Janet had a heart transplant last year and they're doing well so far,” my uncle said, his eyes widening with glad affirmation. He glanced at me to see my reaction.
“My goodness. Well I knew they had a heart condition or a heart something.”
My uncle was momentarily distracted by an idiot in a pickup driving dangerously.
“Are you a full-time wolly or does it come naturally?”
I giggled. My Uncle was perhaps the only person in the village that still used the word 'wolly'.
“Did you say they both had transplants?” I asked.
“Sorry, that wasn't directed at you. Yes, within a week or so of each other. Quite amazing, really. Given how long they'd been waiting.”
“Yes, my gosh. So does that mean they're not coming?” I asked, trying to disguise the hopeful tone in my voice. I should add that Jessica and Jane are my second cousins but I'd started referring to them in the third person, i.e 'The Crispin sisters' from about the age of fifteen, when I seriously couldn't stand being in the same room as them for more than three minutes. Prior to that I could last at least thirty.
“They were there when I left and I have every reason to suppose they have not left the building,” my uncle replied quietly.
The last conversation I remember having with the sisters was Jessica asking me if I'd ever had an abortion, which was an unusual segue-way from our discussion about 2 for 1 offers in supermarkets.
If I'd ever had a termination the Crispins would be the last people to know, otherwise it would be all over town. They were both staunch catholics and Janet in particular was the kind who would say, “Forgive me father, for I have sinned. I asked so and so if she'd ever had an abortion which probably hurt her feelings a little,” just so she could tell the priest about it.
If being a staunch catholic sounds anachronistic in the 21st century there's more. The last I'd heard, the Crispins weren't online and had only recently acquired mobile phones after my uncle insisted they have them for emergencies. In fact, their mother fractured her hip falling downstairs because they wouldn't install an additional landline phone upstairs for her. They hated any form of change. They'd always lived in the same house, worked in the same library, always bought Nissan Micras, never changed their energy tariff. They should have been in a Channel 4 documentary. They'd have been like curiosities in a freak show.
Uncle Pete turned into the narrow country road he lived in, past the white Elizabethan cottage and the old telephone exchange onto the gravel drive of his modern brick and flint house.
My uncle knew I was nervous and right on cue he turned to me and said, “Thanks for coming,” and smiled a 'I know this is going to be hard, but thanks' smile. Of course, I should have thanked him. I was the black sheep of the family and he the shepherd that never gave up hope.
So Uncle Pete walked me through to the back garden and it was okay. Family greeted me, not exactly like somebody they'd only seen the week before, but they played the game. I pecked Jessica on the cheek. I wanted to congratulate her on the success of her operation but felt that would have sounded gauche, not that I wanted her dead or anything, but it wasn't as if her welfare had ever been a concern of mine. So instead I asked, “Where's Janet?”
“She's popped to the shops to get some olive oil,” she said primly.
“Oh. Well you're looking well. I'd better say hello to everyone else,” I said and made my escape. She wasn't looking well. She looked sour and sullen.
“Hey you, say hello to everybody and forget me. That's not a good look.”
It was Elaine, my cousin Jake's American wife. Big knuckled and gangly, with swollen and morose eyes, she was an ugly duckling but exuded sex appeal.
“Oh hello, Elaine. I'm sorry. I didn't see you there.”
“Like hell. Wanna take a spin around the orchard?”
The orchard was owned by the council but Uncle Pete was allowed to use it, as it was effectively an extension of his garden they had no access to.
“What are these?” Elaine asked me.
“Cox.”
“Mmm delicious. So,” she said with a mouthful of apple. “How are things with you and?”
“There isn't a me and.”
“Oh. Okey dokey.”
“How about with you and Jake?”
Elaine tossed the delicious apple and lit a cigarette. Then she inhaled deeply and blew out. “He's firing blanks.”
“Oh. I'm sorry.”
She shrugged. “It's okay. It still tastes nice. How are things on the east side? I hope there's less rain.”
“Probably. I don't know.”
“Did you know Antonio Baldalamenti teamed up with Paul McCartney on a song called 'Is it raining in London?' and Paul never released it. Bastard.”
“No, I didn't know that,” I chuckled. I hardly knew Elaine but she talked to me like an old friend. Why she took to me, I guess she sensed like her I was an outsider.
“So it's okay to ask me what I've been doing?” she said. “Besides being a home maker, we're probably getting a dog.”
“Oh. So what have you been doing? What breed?”
“Not much,” she said rubbing a mark on her dress and flicking ash. “Entering shitty poetry into competitions, mostly. Probably a brown Lab. I wanted a Siamese but Jake is allergic to cats.”
“Sorry about that. The competition thing, I mean.”
“It's okay. It wins sometimes. Listen. Just so you know, the twins are not getting on.”
“Really?”
“When have you ever known one of them to go someplace without the other?”
“True. So how long has this been going on?”
“About fifteen minutes. They had a tiff about something and Janet drove off. Hopefully she's coming back.”
She stubbed out her cigarette on the fence post and wrapped it in a tissue I gave her. Then she took me by the arm, leading me back towards to the garden. If she remembered our drunken kiss at Jake's 30th it wasn't an issue now. I'd obviously spent too much time on my own dwelling on things.
“Would you excuse me?” I said and went to the bathroom. When I came out Elaine was waiting and we had to squeeze past each other.
“Oh...shall we dance?” she joked and continued on her way.

**

I was helping my uncle in the kitchen when one of his friends walked in wearing shades and a blouse that showed an impressive décolletage.
“Two bottles of strawberry daiquiri, two Havanas and a few cans of Lamcello for the lightweights,” she said, plonking a carrier bag down. “What? They were on special.”
“Nothing,” my uncle replied earnestly.
“Hello love,” she said chirpily and kissed me on the cheek.
“Oh, gosh. Hi,” I replied.
“Did you get the olive oil?” Uncle Pete asked, dousing the salad in balsamic vinegar.
“Oh blast. I knew I'd forgotten something.”
“Sunflower it is then.”
“I think Janet's getting some,” I said.
The woman burst into laughter. “I AM Janet, love.”
She took her prescription sunglasses off- and said, “Da da!” like a faux-magician, so I got it.
“Aunty Janet!” I cried. Everything about her was louder. Hair, clothing, suntan, make up. Then her phone rang and out came her Samsung smartphone. A confident swipe and off she breezed, nattering.
I went into the garden feeling as if I'd just walked into an episode of The Twilight Zone. There was now one recognisable twin and one alter-ego. Gosh, the most I'd ever known Janet drink, somewhat under duress, was one glass of Baby Cham.
We sat down at a long table. Jake, Uncle Pete, Elaine, Janet, Jessica, Melissa and her two children and Jake's grandparents. Throughout the meal Janet was animated and jokey. I wondered if her new lease of life had somehow changed her personality or if this was just the happy version of the same person. Why was her sister, who had had the same life saving reprieve, as dull as she was before? I looked at Jessica quietly eating her dinner and smiled. I guess I suddenly felt for her, somehow losing her sister. I don' t know. Now that there was only one of her it was a game changer.
We got talking about my life. I managed not to be sarcastic.
“Do you think you might ever move back here?” Jessica asked. Given that I'd moved to get away from my family I might have taken offence. Maybe I was growing up, maybe we both were, but I didn't. My father was dead and my mother had emigrated so I began to see it was only natural that my closest family should look out for me.
“I might. I might move closer. Never say never,” I replied.
Looking around, I saw that we all change, maybe some more than others. It's a moot point whether or not we are the same person from one day to the next.
Thankfully my uncle hadn't been drinking because later I had a train to catch. Maybe a little earlier than I'd have liked to. There were hugs. I felt like I wasn't being judged. Like it's fear of being judged that attracts it the most. Elaine draped her arms around me and told me not to be a stranger. My Uncle grabbed the keys on the trestle table in the porch.
There was a copy of New Science magazine on it with an article headline, 'Changed hearts, changed minds?' and sub-heading '6% of transplant recipients report personality change' in a smaller font size. I looked at my uncle and he looked at me. There was no need to say anything.