The Flow

by Effrosyni Moschoudi

  “I’ll get my coat. I’ll see you in the car,” she said softly and turned away, a vision of lace and pearls, her radiant face all cheekbones and eyes. As angry as he felt still, Charles couldn’t help noticing that all heads in the room had turned to watch her, as she paced the luxurious hall regally towards the cloakroom. He had to count himself lucky for having such a beautiful woman, one that the whole world seemed to admire, seemed to be attracted to. He had desired her more than any other and to get her, he was aware he’d done unspeakable, vile things. He hadn’t forgiven himself for some of them but still, he knew that if he had to, he would do them all over again. He simply couldn’t live without her. And especially because he had done so much to make her his, he was determined never to let her go, never to lose her. He’d just have to work harder at winning her heart.

  He was no fool. He knew she didn’t really love him. Unlike him when addressing her, she never used any terms of endearment. If she didn’t call him simply by name, then she called him nothing else. He only wondered about one thing, but he never dared ask her: did she still think about that other man? Did she still love him? It tortured him, it really did. But to ask her, would be to show weakness. And he hoped that if she hadn’t already, one day she would forget about him. He liked to think that then, he might finally get a chance to win her heart.

  ***

  “Everything all right, my lady?” asked James when Laura got in the back of the Rolls alone. He had looked startled to see her. Although there was a crumpled newspaper on his lap opened on the sports page, Laura guessed he had been taking a nap. Like Harold, he often helped with the gardening. That morning the two men had pruned together all the bushes and the trees in the adjoining orchard.

  “Yes, fine, James! His lordship won't be long,” she replied, meeting his glazed-over eyes. He gave a little yawn then, which he attempted to stifle with his hand but to no avail. Before he could control it, his mouth had opened wider than his hand could ever be and Laura smiled in response. As always she felt amused and relaxed in his presence. My darling, James!

  “I’m sorry, my lady,” he apologised but she waved it off. She always thought of him as a friend rather than a member of staff and wished he didn’t act so formally towards her. Still, she knew they could have it no other way.

  “Oh, James, you must be very tired. Did you manage all the trees in the orchard with Harold?”

  “Yes, my lady! We did them all today.” This time, when he yawned he didn’t stifle it, although he turned his face away from her, pretending to look at the passing cars.

  “Except Harold was lucky enough to have an early night,” she joked, causing him to chuckle loudly in response.

  “Yep! Some people have all the luck. Dreaming away as we speak, no doubt,” he replied, turning his merry face towards her again.

  Laura was about to say that he’d soon be able to retire to bed too, but then Charles opened the door to sit with her in the back. She stiffened for a moment, then leaned back in her seat, her face giving nothing away. In similar fashion, James turned around again to stare into space, waiting for orders.

  “Home, James,” said Charles, surprisingly softly.

  James gave a compliant nod. “Yes, my lord.”

  ***

  Back at the house, Laura and Charles greeted Jen amicably at the door, then Laura went upstairs alone to check on Freddie. She found him sleeping soundly in his cot, the starched sheets and heavy quilt perfectly in place over his plump little body. A wooden mobile depicting lambs and butterflies hung low overhead, and she negotiated it carefully as she stooped over the cot to caress his forehead. She took a feather-soft strand of hair to roll it tenderly between two fingers, and then let it drop back on his temple. As he lay with his head turned to the side, his tiny ear looked rosy pink and deliciously soft, inviting her to caress it, but she had to stop herself for fear she might wake him. It took her all the self-control she could muster to turn around and let him sleep, for as always, whenever she laid eyes on him, she longed to hold him.

  Coming out of the room, she heard a melancholic piano melody playing softly. It came from the end of the corridor, and she realised Charles had put on a record in his bedroom. She thought of their silly argument again. Perhaps she had been a bit unfair. She shouldn’t have lashed out at him in the restaurant. After all, he was right in a way. Although it was her decision whether or not she should perform again, she could have mentioned to him about Mr Mills’s proposal. Determined to be the better person, she paced to his room and tapped softly on the open door.

  “Come in, dear, you don’t have to knock,” he said with an easy smile. She relaxed at once when she saw his expression, realising he wasn’t angry any more either.

  “I’ve come to apologise. You were right. I should have told you about Mr Mills, I’m sorry.”

  In the semi-darkness of the room, lit only by the lamp on the bedside table, he thought her green eyes looked huge. Then, his loins became alive with desire. “It’s all right, dear, I do understand,” he replied in a low, silky voice as he approached her slowly.

  Laura gave a small sigh, relieved they could be civil again. Civility between them was the only thing she could find refuge in; the only way she could function in this marriage. When the past was upturned, it was unsettling, so it was best kept in the past where it belonged. When they were civil, it was easier to forget, it was easier to safeguard her child’s perfect upbringing and his bright future. For her precious Freddie, she could live with anyone, including Charles; despite the circumstances that had brought them together at first. A kind heart finds it easy to forgive and that was how she strove to see it.

  “Stay here tonight,” he whispered, taking her in his arms and burying his face in her neck. His legs wavered from desire, as he breathed in the scent of her skin. Passion overtook him and he moved to press his lips against hers, demanding and hot. She responded to his kiss but as always, she was driven only by a sheer sense of duty. Once you set your priorities right, it is easy to do whatever is expected of you. Then, you can just let things happen; you don’t need to think with your heart.

  With a pained sigh, he picked her up and took her to bed, starting to remove her clothes with haste. There was no passion in it for her, despite the tenderness that he showed her and the sheer dedication with which he pursued her satisfaction. Being as experienced as he was, he found it easy to do.

  When it was over, they lay on his bed, both staring at the ceiling, catching their breath. The melody had stopped playing a while ago on the gramophone, and the needle was now making an annoying repetitive sound on the record. During their lovemaking, they had somehow blocked it out, but now it seemed to offend their ears like the humming of an incessant bug in the height of summer.

  Charles smirked upon registering the irritation on her face and got out of bed to stop the machine. As she watched him come back to bed grinning, she thought that he looked like a child and wondered how much better he would have turned out with a different upbringing. She also wondered, if a man’s character is purely down to life’s circumstances and experiences, or if perhaps every man comes to this world with his tendencies already predetermined at birth.

  In the end, she decided that character is probably formed by a combination of the two in any given man. It could be that Charles had had to make a hard choice at some point about how he wanted to be. As she lay next to her husband now, she wondered what choices had brought them both to this, this dispassionate coexistence of civility without love, at least, as far as she was concerned. And if he deserved this arrangement, did she?

  Still, she told herself, tonight he’d been caring enough to take her out. Perhaps he wasn’t as selfish and as dreadful as she’d thought. When he turned to her with a happy grin and put out a hand to caress her hair in the semi-darkness, she even found herself wondering if indeed, she could give him a second chance.

  Chapter 33

  “Pass me the lemon please, darling?” Laura was sitting
with Charles at the breakfast table. Before she knew it, the unthinkable word had passed from her lips to hang awkwardly between them.

  Charles did a double take when he looked up from his Sunday paper. Did I hear right? Did she really say ‘darling’? He chose not to comment, and yet, unable to conceal his pleasure, he passed her the saucer of lemon wedges with a cheerful grin.

  Laura gave a small sigh. There! Now it’s done. Perhaps we could be a normal couple in all respects from now on. She’d uttered the term of endearment as if it were the simplest thing, and yet, she knew well it was important; a huge development between them. They’d been married for a year, and their anniversary was imminent. He hadn’t said a word about it, and she wondered if he thought it meant nothing to her at all. Far from it, she felt she ought to commemorate the day with the appropriate attention. Today, somehow, it didn’t feel like an obligation any more. Now, it was an important benchmark in their life together. Perhaps they could look back on it some day and recall that this was the definitive point in time when their marriage took wings, when they finally became a normal family.

  She stirred her Earl Grey with a tiny silver spoon and put the lemon aside, then brought the butter and jam before her to prepare her scone. As she cut it in half with her butter knife, she raised her face towards her husband to find him watching her with fascination.

  “However do you manage that?” He smirked at her from beneath his well-groomed moustache.

  “What?” She gave a tittering laugh. “Honestly, there’s no trick. It just runs in my family. We can eat as much as we want and never gain any weight!” She gave a coy smile and wrinkled her nose at him like a schoolgirl.

  Charles reached across the table to pat her hand. “My love, thank you for last night. I am the luckiest man alive to have you.”

  “Thank you,” she said timidly. She was still surprised about how different she felt towards him this morning, as if nothing vile had ever stood between them. She shook her head at the appalling distant memories and pressed her lips together as she watched him sip his coffee.

  Charles threw her another happy glance and returned his attention to his newspaper. He turned the page and his eyebrows furrowed, then he gave a deep sigh as he started to read the news to himself. He knew Laura wouldn’t wish to hear about it and so he didn’t voice his disquiet.

  It was easy for Laura to guess what it was all about as she watched him. No doubt, the war was still raging across the Channel and the prospects remained grim.

  Soon, Charles put the newspaper down again. Seeing that the news was unsettling, he welcomed the soft knock on the open double doors then. Maggie stood there holding little Freddie. The boy was flailing his arms and calling out to Charles in gibberish.

  “I am sorry to disturb you during your breakfast, but—”

  “Don’t worry, Maggie, do come in. Come here my little angel!” he said, beckoning eagerly to the child.

  “Dada! Dada!” cried Freddie as soon as Maggie placed him on his father’s lap. The boy was clutching his favourite teddy bear in his hands, squealing with excitement.

  “He kept calling for you for a while now, and he can be relentless,” said Maggie with a chuckle.

  “No problem at all. Always a pleasure to see my boy,” said Charles. Freddie was a vision of huge blue eyes and rosy cheeks, his mop of dark hair shiny like the finest silk. His father took hold of his hand tenderly, and set out to teach him the numbers again.

  Laura giggled. She loved the way he tried to teach the child, although it was much too early, but he liked to do it anyway.

  “One, two, three little fingers . . .” counted Charles, as he tapped Freddie’s tiny fingertips in sync with the lesson.

  “Uhn!” said Freddie, trying his best to repeat the first word. That was all he could manage every time before turning his attention to something else.

  “Tummy!” said his dad, tickling him there. The boy giggled and wriggled on his dad’s lap, dropping his teddy bear.

  “Ears!” continued Charles, touching his boy on both his ears, causing him to put his hands there.

  Freddie gave an excited shriek, unable to control the volume of his delighted responses.

  Maggie cringed. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I can take him away and bring him to you after you’ve finished eating.”

  Laura shrugged and Charles gave a dismissive wave. “No, of course not. Have a seat, Maggie,” he urged her, then turned his attention back to Freddie. “Yes, ears! There! Touch your ears, my little darling. Now, where is your nose, I wonder? Yes, your nose?”

  Laura gasped when Freddie made fists with his hands and brought them to his face. Although it was sheer coincidence that he touched his nose then, the adults thought it was the cutest thing and broke out laughing.

  “Come here, my love, come to mummy!” said Laura, aching to hold him. Charles stood and placed the boy on her lap, his face the epitome of tenderness.

  It was then that Maggie noticed they looked different. Laura seemed at ease with Charles and genuinely happy. Could it be? Has she finally found a way to bury the past and forgive? Has she grown to truly love him?

  “Dada!” cried Freddie, smiling at Charles.

  “What is it, my darling?” he asked.

  “Dada!” He gave a squeal and banged both hands on the table.

  Everyone beamed at him again, while the boy continued to squeal, enjoying the attention. Then, out of the blue, Charles’s face dropped, his jovial smile fading away. He was now staring back at his son’s mirthful face while his own was coloured with stark amazement. Then a vague bewilderment set in, causing Laura to tilt her head.

  “Whatever is it, Charles?” She locked eyes with him for only a moment, and then he quickly looked away.

  “Nothing,” he mumbled under his breath.

  “But you look as if you’ve seen a ghost!” she insisted, huffing with astonishment.

  “Nothing to fuss about, darling . . . erm . . . just a sharp pain in my back; that is all.” He placed a hand on the small of his back and even winced but avoided her eyes. “I may have strained it yesterday morning playing golf with Mother and her friends. Perhaps I ought to be more careful – being at the threshold of middle age and all that,” he joked, rolling his eyes.

  “How absurd that you should call yourself middle-aged!” responded Maggie, looking amused. “Shall I get you something for the pain?”

  Laura kept silent but watched with apprehension. She wasn’t fully convinced. He hadn’t seemed to be in pain but rather shocked in a way. She did have a faint idea but couldn’t even bring herself to imagine it could be that.

  “No, Maggie, thank you,” responded Charles, unaware of his wife’s silent concerns. “I’m sure I’ll be all right. I’m having an easy day today around the house. Having said that,” he went on, turning to face Laura, “Darling, would you like to have a quiet stroll on the beach this afternoon with me?”

  Laura rested her eyes upon his face and felt amazed to find no trace of his distress just seconds ago. Whatever it was he clearly didn’t want her to know. This is what panicked her the most. In silent response to his suggestion, she nodded with a tight little smile, her lips twitching.

  She returned the child to Maggie and picked up her cup. As she sipped her tea quietly, she felt tormented. Whereas earlier on, in her mind’s eye, she had seen the rosy skies of an impending spring coming to finally shine upon their marriage, now, the prospect of a happy life together seemed once again as grim as ever.

  She put her teacup down and made an excuse to go upstairs. She paced to the hall and started to climb the staircase, deep in thought. By the time she reached the landing, she had already given up once again on the prospect of marital bliss. If her worst fears were to be confirmed, she and Charles were heading for the greatest chasm their marriage had ever known.

  Chapter 34

  1988

  One blissful evening, Loula went home early from work to find a letter from Steve. She split the enve
lope open and read the letter thirstily as she always did, skipping any unknown words for later when she’d show Sofia.

  When she reached the last paragraph, she let out a shrill cry. Thankfully, her mother was outside at the time watering the pots, or she would have thought something terrible had happened, the way all Greek mothers do, fearing the worst about their kids day and night. In reality, it had been the most wonderful and intriguing news. With the letter still in her hand, Loula rushed out the door and ran to Sofia’s place.

  “Sofia! Sofia!” she yelled, long before she came around the last corner. At the time, her friend was sitting outside in the cool breeze with her granddad. Her grandmother was in the kitchen making scrambled eggs in tomato sauce for dinner. It was nearly done and it smelled delicious, the tantalising vapours reaching the front yard, seemingly with the only purpose to torture Sofia and Granddad’s sense of smell.

  The young girl bolted upright when she saw her friend, still, she wasn’t alarmed. This was so typical of Loula; Sofia’s best guess was that she’d had a letter from Steve. When she saw it in her hand, she gave a nod of acknowledgement.

  “Kalispera, Kyrie Stefane! Yassou, Sofia!” came Loula’s breathless greeting. When they greeted her back, she asked if she could speak to her friend privately, so they went to the back of the house and stood against the grey, mossy wall that separated the yard from the adjoining property. It had the most gorgeous sea view. The girls stood there for a few moments speechless, despite Loula’s urgency.

  The sea was silver-grey and serene like a lake. A big ferry sailed in the open sea towards the port of Corfu town, ghost-like in the descending mist. The shores of Epirus and Albania across the water were hardly visible at this hour, with the sun gone and the haze shrouding the world slowly and tenderly, as if tucking it in for the night.