07 | WMD - a revision | Kate Pullinger

07

‘Hello,’ called Charlotte from below, startling the woman on the roof. ‘What are you doing up there?’

‘Landscapes,’ shouted Mary, ‘I’m thinking about taking up landscape painting. The view from here is spectacular.’

‘Beautiful scenic Vauxhall,’ said Charlotte. ‘Well, I’m making coffee if you want it.’ The morning sun felt warm on the black roof. Mary sat for a little while longer, basking in the light and thinking perhaps she really should start painting landscapes. She looked out at the council estate blocks to the east and the Spring Gardens to the west. She felt intimate with the scene, the kind of familiarity that comes with having lived in one place for years. Mary felt loyal to Vauxhall.

‘What were you doing up there so early?’ Charlotte asked as they sat down for breakfast.

‘Fixing the guttering,’ she replied.

‘You are so practical, it’s a marvel.’

‘Christ, Charlotte, you’re the one who is constantly re¬placing smashed toilets, redoing the wiring and salvaging the roof. I am but a dabbler compared to you.’

‘Yes, but you seem to enjoy that kind of thing. I hate it.’’

‘DIY is the fate of all squatters, Charlotte dear. You know that. Eventual eviction and constant repairs, that’s how the story goes. I like to potter. You’re more of a perfectionist than me.’

‘Maybe. Still, even though I don’t like it, it’s the only way I have to make a home. Literally, make a home ...’ she said, crunching her toast, ‘out of rubble. So, are you seeing Finn again?’

‘Yeah, it looks like it,’ Mary replied with a small laugh.

‘I thought you two had enough of each other last time.’

‘We are always having enough of each other. I guess we both have short memories when it comes to our relationship. I can never quite remember why I was dying to be rid of him. He just comes along and says “Hey, how about it?” and I generally say “Well, why not?” It must be frustrating for you to watch.’

‘It is a bit. Just when I think you’re feeling better for having dumped him — you know, over the rough bits, on to new things — back he comes and it’s all on again.’

‘Do you want to know what I really think, Charlotte?’

‘Mmm,’ she said, nodding into her coffee.

‘I think Finn and I should get married. That way we couldn’t get away from each other so easily. That way when we split up everyone will know it’s just a phase. No one will believe me when I say “That’s it, that’s final.” We’d have to get a divorce first and everyone knows neither of us would have the patience to go through with that. We’d be back together in a flash.’

‘I have heard some strange reasons for getting married, Mary, but that’s the best yet. I think it’s probably nonsense as well.’

‘My parents would be incredibly disapproving. They still think people should not get married, even though they are,’ Mary said, pausing. ‘You don’t like him, do you?’

‘Well,’ answered Charlotte defensively, ‘I tend to see you most often when you aren’t seeing Finn and then you complain about him bitterly. As far as I can tell from what you’ve said he’s a real shit. You can’t wait to get rid of him. You wish his hair would fall out. You want him to go back to Canada and live with a moose. Are you familiar with these sentiments?’ she asked. Mary nodded. ‘That’s why I don’t like him. You keep telling me he’s awful.’

‘Oh,’ said Mary. ‘Sorry.’

‘Don’t worry about it. Finn doesn’t like me either. He thinks I’m always telling you to dump him. Little does he know.’

‘What about you, Charlotte?’ Mary asked slowly. She did not want Charlotte to feel she was prying although she was unable to suppress her curiosity entirely.

‘What?’ said Charlotte.

‘You’ve mentioned a “friend” once or twice ...’

‘Oh. No, that’s just somebody I work with.’ She blinked, casting her eyes elsewhere in the room. ‘Anyway, I’m going back to my house today to see about getting in again.’

‘You are? Good luck,’ said Mary, shaking her head.

I’ve almost learned how to write dialogue by this stage in the proceedings. Still not brilliant, not Don DeLillo, but not complete crap either. It’s even a little bit funny. And Charlotte is slightly less of sipher now, though only slightly.

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The next day, after Finn had left for work and before Charlotte was out of bed, Mary went into the garden. The moisture from several nights had already made the pile of dirt where the lilac bush had stood settle, although it still looked like a grave. Mary considered erecting a small marker saying ‘Here lies Minnie the Mole’ to cut down on further speculation but she decided that would only draw more attention to the mound.

After carrying the ladder out of the cellar, Mary retrieved the piece of guttering that had fallen from the eave a few days before. Holding it in one hand, she cautiously made her way up the rungs until she was eye-level with the gap. She pushed the guttering back into place and used a loose piece of slate to secure it. Once finished, she continued to climb up the ladder arid then clambered on to the peak of the roof. From that vantage point she peered into the gardens of her neighbours on either side. The garden on the left was neat and orderly, the one on the right like a tip, all brambles, blackberries and old furniture. Mary surveyed each plot carefully then drew a line with her eye from where she had found the Roman Bath in both directions across the other gardens. She decided it was likely that her neighbours had the Roman Bath beneath their gardens as well. Mary hoped that neither started to move trees or shrubs around. ‘I like to know who’s digging where,’ she thought.

Because of the d.i.y. nature of squatting, I spent more times on the roofs of houses and buildings than before or since. I lived in one building where the roof had tremendous holes in it. They were too big for us to fix so we built a kind of watering-catching system up in the attic – big square boxes lined with tarpaulin; the system relied upon there being enough time between rainfalls for the collected water to evaporate, so it didn’t really work at all. But the rooftop views in Vauxhall were great – the rows of houses, the estate to the west, the gasworks and the Oval cricket ground to the southeast.

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