The Fetch. Finuala Dowling

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The Fetch - Finuala Dowling

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the clubhouse, but she’s insisting on gate crashing!”

      “Dolly?” asked William. “I thought she was already here.”

      “She wasn’t welcome,” said Neville. “Tried to cadge money off some of the mourners. I took her to the clubhouse and gave her some drinks but now she’s on the rampage again.”

      “Waar?” asked Emmanuel.

      Noise from the front of Midden House alerted them to Dolly’s likely whereabouts.

      “She must be down on the lawn already,” said Neville. He looked at the baby in William’s arms. “Is this another of your recycling projects?”

      “Ja, well, you see, I think there’s a complication …”

      Fundiswa’s entrance interrupted William’s reply.

      “Hurry, hurry! Emmanuel! She’s on the back wall of the tidal pool and she’s taken her top off!”

      Neville hurried out. He was the man for this job.

      Fundiswa busied herself filling the kettle, making more tea for Chas’s guests. William was in her way and she was forced to come to a halt before him. She looked from William to the baby and then back again.

      Remembering her strongly expressed views on sperm, his sperm in particular, at their last encounter, William thought it would be politic to follow Neville out of the kitchen.

      But his progress was slow. Midden House was full of mourners, either friends of Chas, there to support him, or elderly contemporaries of Mrs Fawkes.

      Chas’s friends were blasé about Dolly’s nudity. They’d seen it all before, their expressions seemed to say, and they didn’t need to see it again. Yesterday’s news. Some only glanced out of the window and then carried on talking or wandering around the buffet table with their side plates, too bored to make their way onto the stoep for a better view.

      Mrs Fawkes’s bereaved friends, in contrast, were disturbed by her daughter-in-law parading topless along the back wall of the tidal pool and shouting up at the house.

      “I should think she’ll catch her death,” William heard one old lady say to another. The two women moved outside to make a full assessment of the situation.

      Their departure allowed the baby to see the table laden with biscuits and cakes.

      “Deh, deh, deh!” He pointed and used his knees and feet to urge William in the direction of the confectionary. William handed the baby a lemon cream, which it sucked on with pleasure.

      Sharon came in from the stoep with a pile of dirty cake plates just as Fundiswa returned from the kitchen with a fresh pot of tea.

      “She’s not as toned as she used to be,” said Sharon.

      “I never saw her before in my life, naked or clothed, so I can’t comment,” said Fundiswa, her mouth drawn down in disapproval.

      “Her tits are looking a bit more droopy. And what’s happened to her hair? I said to Neville: ‘Has Dolly gone Rasta or something?’ Anyway, my husband is out there trying to save the situation.”

      “Thixo! I think it’s a scandal to behave this way at a funeral!” said Fundiswa, pouring a cup of tea for William and placing it where he could reach it with his spare hand.

      “Thanks,” said William. He looked out of the window and saw Nina moving from the stoep to the lawn. Her blonde hair looked pretty, spread out on the dark cardigan she wore over her sober funeral-going dress.

      Nina studied Dolly’s nakedness, so different from her own very private plumpness. So that was the kind of body Chas admired, she thought. No wonder there had been no repeat of February’s kiss.

      Some people were moving down the steps to get a closer look at the goings-on. She overheard a confused old gentleman asking his companion whether this was the latest thing, entertainment at funerals.

      Nina didn’t join the throng. Even at this remove, she could hear Dolly’s tirade: “Yes, have a good look, everyone! It’s the outcast! The unwanted wife! The unwanted daughter-in-law! Not allowed into her own home! God, I’m so lonely!”

      Emmanuel edged his way along the slippery pool wall towards Dolly, holding up a beach towel as if she were a guest needing help into her evening coat. Neville was approaching from the other side.

      “I have nothing! See how he gives me nothing!” shouted Dolly.

      To demonstrate her point, Dolly unzipped her shorts, let them drop to her ankles and flicked them into the pool with her left foot. Neville reached out, trying to intercept the flung garment, but lost his balance and fell into the water. He gasped at the cold and struck out for the shallows as quickly as he could. Emmanuel abandoned his attempt to swathe Dolly and went to Neville’s aid instead.

      Dolly’s long, slender body with its larger-than-remembered breasts was now adorned only by a lacy red G-string. Like a gymnast on the balance beam, she seemed completely at home on the narrow wall.

      “He won’t even let me in to fetch my clothes and CDs! His mother left me her diamond rings – I’m entitled to ask for them! He can’t chase me away – I’m only asking for what’s mine!”

      Chas was standing a little way away from Nina, his body taut with fury. He wore a dark jacket, formal pants and lace-up shoes, an outfit that somehow made Dolly seem even more naked. When he could bear it no longer, he marched to the top of the steps and shouted down at his estranged wife.

      “My mother’s body is hardly cold but you want to come in here, raking through her possessions!”

      Dolly became tearful at this injustice: “That’s not true! All I wanted was my stuff. Aren’t I even allowed to attend a family funeral?”

      “For God’s sake, woman, come off that wall. How dare you cavort there with your breasts hanging out! These are my mother’s friends! Have some respect for the dead!”

      Dolly looked venomous. “You!” she cried. “How dare you tell me how to behave? You want to talk to me about respect! The things I could say about you, Mr Goody-Two-Shoes!”

      She paced the wall, clearly thinking about the things she could say. Then it came to her: “You think you’re so beautiful and so perfect. But you’re mean and penny-pinching and your tongue hangs out during sex! Oh yes, Chas loves lots of lovely sex! He loves girls! He loves boys!”

      Nina saw that Chas was weeping. She ran inside and addressed the tea drinkers: “Can’t somebody do something?”

      William stepped forward. “I think I know what might stop her,” he said.

      Carrying the baby onto the stoep, William passed Chas, who could only stare at the infant in his arms.

      When the child saw its mother, it started to sob again.

      “M-m-mama!” cried the boy, reaching out his arms.

      “Did somebody actually invite a baby?” asked one of Chas’s friends.

      “My child!” Dolly wailed. “Oro!

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