Fraser's Line

by Monica Carly

  ‘No thanks.’ Fraser was firm in his refusal. ‘Please pass my thanks on to Marion, but I’m not in the mood for a party.’

  Margaret tried all the arguments she could, but Fraser was adamant. Then she said, ‘Mother’s terribly worried about you. She keeps asking me if you are getting out anywhere. When I say no, you’re just staying at home, she gets very upset.’

  ‘She’d forgotten about it when she spoke to me a few moments ago. She asked me how Edie was!’

  ‘I’m sure it was only a momentary aberration. You know what her mind is like now. She does know what’s happened and how you’ve been suffering. Every time I speak to her she asks about you, and wants to know how you are coping. Come on, Fraser, make her happy! She’d love to think that you were able to go out and join other people. It pains her to think of you being so alone all the time.’

  It was the only persuasive remark that could possibly have any effect on Fraser. He hesitated – Margaret seized her advantage, and before he knew it he had somehow agreed to go.

  ‘Brilliant!’ said Margaret. ‘I’ll tell Marion straight away.’

  Damn, thought Fraser, as he went out for his fish and chips. Damn, damn, damn.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Lunch is ready! Everyone needs to sit up at the table now!’ Announcements of mealtimes by Sarah required an immediate response. Woe betide the procrastinator who decided to finish the job in hand, or who, worse still, had failed to wash their hands prior to the pre-emptory invitation to the table. The interval between the time the family members were bidden to come and the final result of all chairs being occupied by diners in a state of complete readiness could be no more than thirty seconds or Sarah became flustered.

  At one o’clock precisely the meal was served. The homemade Shepherd’s Pie, brought to the table bubbling, with its golden crust browned to perfection, made a spectacular sight. How well Sarah looked after her family! Fraser was impressed by her competence and organisation.

  ‘Magic!’ breathed George, in eager anticipation.

  Next the carrots and broccoli arrived – an attractive vegetable accompaniment with their contrasting colours, but this cut no ice with George.

  ‘Yuk!’ he shuddered. ‘I really, really hate brolocci.’

  ‘It’s broccoli – and you have to eat it.’ Kate adopted the role of older sister, despite the fact that she had only beaten George into the world by twenty minutes.

  ‘Greens do you good, old chap,’ encouraged Michael. ‘If you mix them up with that lovely potato you’ll never even notice.’

  ‘How do you mean, mix them up? Like a spell?’

  ‘He’s been bitten by the Harry Potter bug,’ explained Sarah to Fraser.

  ‘What bug? I haven’t got a bug. Kate, have I got a bug?’

  ‘Do be quiet and eat your dinner,’ responded Kate, self-righteously.

  ‘Thank you, Kate,’ Sarah intervened. ‘I think I can manage George. Now, I want both of you to show Grandpa how nicely and quietly you can eat up your dinner.’

  Obediently the twins applied themselves to the job in hand. Fraser felt a sense of pride in his family, and began to be glad he had come. When he had arrived Sarah and Michael had been busy in the kitchen, working together in a unison that reflected the harmony between them. It reminded Fraser of how it had been between Edie and himself, slotting easily together. He was glad Sarah had made a happy marriage – fulfilled at home and at work, it seemed. At least that was one of his daughters settled. If only Joanna could find the right way forward.

  He had tested the refrigerator, as Sarah had requested, and found it running perfectly correctly at minus four degrees. Although Sarah had seen his meter reading, she still wasn’t fully convinced. However, Michael had taken over, and repeated what Fraser had said very firmly, so that in the end she had accepted it.

  Fraser then made his way to the lounge to see what his grandchildren were doing, expecting his usual rapturous welcome, but Kate and George were unusually quiet. Typical six year olds, they could be boisterous and sometimes Fraser had a job keeping up with them. However, this time they had both appeared to be absorbed by their colouring books and did not look up.

  Fraser had greeted them affectionately, and then sat down in the particular armchair which was always offered to him when he visited.

  ‘What are you drawing, Georgie?’ he had asked. Sarah disapproved of any variation on the name George, but as she wasn’t in the room he had not worried. “George” somehow seemed such a grown up name for a small child.

  Kate had answered. It was strange how little girls assumed responsibility so early in life.

  ‘Mummy said we were to stay out of the kitchen while she and Daddy are seeing to the lunch, so we’re doing our activity books.’

  ‘She said she’d better give you a good meal today,’ George added. ‘Grandpa, why did she want to give you a good meal? Are you very hungry?’

  ‘I always enjoy your Mummy’s meals,’ Fraser replied. ‘She’s a very good cook.’

  ‘Are you sad, Grandpa?’ George asked.

  ‘George!’ Kate exploded. ‘You know Mummy said you mustn’t!’

  ‘I didn’t say it!’ George retorted indignantly. ‘I didn’t! I only asked Grandpa if he was sad.’

  Fraser was beginning to realise why the twins had been so subdued when he first arrived.

  ‘What did Mummy tell you not to say?’ he asked.

  Kate had taken it on herself to explain. ‘Mummy said we mustn’t say anything about Grandma because it would make you sad.’

  ‘I see. Well look, it’s alright. Sometimes it helps to talk about the people you love when sad things have happened.’

  ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’ George didn’t believe in beating about bushes.

  Fraser had wondered what concept of death a six year could have. Should he talk about “going to heaven”? Then there had come that distant memory of when he had been much the same age. What had his mother said? He could not remember.

  ‘Grandma got ill,’ he explained. ‘Sometimes when people get old they get ill, and sometimes they are ill for a long time and they suffer a lot. Other people have a very short illness and they die, so it’s good that they don’t suffer.’ He couldn’t help thinking that it’s those who are left behind who suffer -- but that was a burden he had to carry – it was not something to put on these innocent young children.

  ‘Are you ill?’ George asked.

  ‘Not at all,’ Fraser assured him, ‘so you have nothing to worry about. Of course we all miss Grandma a lot, and we shall always think of her, but you children mustn’t be unhappy. She would not have wanted that.’ He had changed the subject rapidly. ‘Shall we get your train set out after lunch, George? Shall we see if Mummy says there’ll be time?’

  ‘Oh magic! Yes, please!’ Then George’s face had fallen. ‘I think Mummy’s going to make me sort my room out this afternoon.’

  Fraser could not bear his disappointment. Sometimes Sarah was rather too hard on the children. Discipline was a good thing, of course, but he wondered if you could overdo it.

  ‘I’ll ask her,’ he promised. ‘Perhaps there’ll be time.’

  ‘Time for what?’ Sarah had appeared with a jug of water.

  ‘George and I would love to play with the train set after lunch. Kate might help us, too. That won’t interfere with your plans, will it?’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Sarah was obviously thinking fast. She had hoped Fraser would go fairly early as she had a lot of work to do over the weekend. On the other hand she was sorry for him, and she realised it could be therapeutic for him to have some time with the children and the train set, an activity all parties loved. And it would keep the children happily occupied for a while. ‘I think we could fit that in for an hour after lunch,’ she agreed, and George had been ecstatic.

  The children continued
to behave well during the meal. Once Kate had interrupted a conversation between Sarah and her father, but was quickly stopped. She had to wait until they had finished and was then given permission to speak. Fraser wondered if he and Edie had been so strict with the girls. It was difficult to remember, and he had to admit that he had left most of the disciplining to Edie.

  Michael’s mobile phone must have vibrated in his pocket, because he took it out and looked at it, and then put it away. A few minutes later he took it out again, and then asked to be excused for a moment. When he came back he seemed strained.

  ‘I’m sorry, darling,’ he said, ‘but something rather urgent has come up, and I’ve really got to see to a delivery this afternoon. It will only take an hour – I’ll be back in two hours at the outside. And I promise I’ll do everything we had planned when I get back.’

  ‘Oh no! Do you really have to go? We said we’d make it a family day today, and Grandpa has come, and I do need you to be here.’

  ‘I won’t be long,’ Michael promised. ‘I’m sure the children will be happy playing trains with Grandpa, and I’ll be back straight after, and I’ll see they get their outside exercise, and then I’ll do whatever other jobs you have lined up for me.’

  Sarah was obviously fighting emotion, but she managed to put on something approaching a smile. ‘Very well, but you’re quite sure it won’t be more than two hours?’

  ‘Absolutely.’ Michael was relieved. ‘I’ll help you clear away first, and I’ll be back before you’ve noticed.’

  When the meal was finished both the children chorused, ‘Please may I get down?’ and then George suddenly started racing round in small circles, imitating an aeroplane, and shouting: ‘We’re going to play trains! It’s magic! We’re going to play trains!’ He banked steeply, spun round, crashed into a chair, and landed on the floor in a heap.

  ‘George!’ Sarah shouted. ‘Stop that this minute! Any more of that rough behaviour and there’ll be no trains for you!’

  George stopped in his tracks and his face fell. He was obviously realising that a moment’s thoughtless display of exuberance looked like jeopardising the very activity he had been anticipating so eagerly.

  ‘Sorry, Mummy,’ he said, anxiously. ‘Sorry, sorry, Mummy. I won’t do it again.’

  ‘You certainly won’t,’ said Sarah firmly. ‘If he’s a naughty boy, Grandpa, you’re to tell me straight away.’

  ‘I’m quite sure he’ll be as good as gold from now on,’ said Fraser. ‘Come on, children. Let’s go and get the things out.’

  They three of them absorbed themselves in setting up the track and watching the little trains chug under tunnels and through stations. To his amazement Fraser realised that for a short time he had forgotten the heavy ache in his heart. He was grateful for his grandchildren who had the gift, without any awareness of it, of bringing him comfort. He hoped perhaps he had brought them a little happiness too – for they did seem to have to function within the confines of a tight regime.

  Sarah came to tell them it was time to start packing away. She thanked Fraser for keeping them so busy, as it had given her the chance to get some important jobs done.

  ‘I’ve enjoyed it as much as they have,’ he said. ‘Perhaps more!’

  As soon as Sarah had left the room Kate asked, ‘Grandpa, is it alright for girls to play with trains?’

  Fraser was taken aback. ‘Of course! Why ever shouldn’t it be?’

  ‘Mummy says trains are a boys’ thing,’ said Kate, ‘and I ought to like something more feminine.’

  ‘I think anyone can enjoy playing with them when they’re little.’ Fraser tried to be tactful. ‘Perhaps what Mummy means is that when you grow up you probably won’t want to drive trains, which at the moment is what George thinks he wants to do. You might find something more interesting that appeals especially to girls. Anyway, trains are supposed to be children’s things – and look at me, an old man, and I still love playing with them!’

  ‘So it’s alright now when I’m not grown up? I don’t actually like dolls much.’ The little girl looked so anxious Fraser felt sorry for her.

  ‘Of course it is. And I hope I can watch you as you get a little older and see what things you like then.’

  At that moment Michael arrived back home, smiling and in a very good mood. Fraser heard him greet his wife warmly, and then he came in to see them.

  ‘Had a good time, children?’

  ‘It was great!’ said George. ‘Really, really great! Will you come again soon, Grandpa?’

  ‘Yes, I certainly will.’ Fraser knew it was his cue to go now. The children both hugged him warmly, and he left for home feeling a little easier – until he remembered what he had agreed to do that evening.

  Chapter 3

  Gloomily Fraser rang the doorbell of Marion’s house. Why on earth had he agreed to come to this party? He hated parties! He always had, and only went, as a young man, because Margaret managed somehow to bully him into it. It was different when he was married. Then, party going had become, if not actually enjoyable, quite acceptable. He had been proud to enter a room with Edie on his arm. He would watch the faces light up when she appeared, and he would smile smugly to himself, knowing what would happen.

  As he sat in a quiet corner with a glass in his hand he would watch the frenzied activity in the centre of the room. Edie, standing there, poised, hand on hip, eyes glowing, would be the focal point of a circle of men busy jostling for prime position. Her laugh would frequently break through the buzz of conversation, as she appeared to find each man who sought to interest her utterly fascinating – for a time, until another claimed her attention. She dazzled with her smile, her hand frequently resting gently on an arm, or shoulder. She would look round the little group and ask ingratiatingly for another drink, heaping praise on whoever supplied it.

  Then suddenly she would move away, bored with the present company, and seek fresh excitement. The men would fall back, each feeling an acute loss of self esteem, as she moved off in another direction and began her entrancing routine all over again.

  Occasionally she would come over to him and exclaim, ‘Fraser, darling, do find my handbag – I can’t think where I put it down!’ Then she would lean towards him and whisper quietly, ‘Shall we go home soon? I’m getting bored with this party.’ He would get to his feet, all too happy to leave, but whether they actually left would depend on whether another man appeared at her elbow sparking fresh interest, in which case he might be still sitting there an hour or two later.

  On these occasions Fraser knew that, although she might seem to be thrilled with all the men there, he would be the one to take her home, and this knowledge amply made up for any hours of tedium. Mostly she would be in a state of childlike excitement, eyes dancing, delighted to know that she had held centre stage, outshone her feminine rivals, lit sparks in most males there – who would no doubt try and contact her later, and be puzzled by their lack of success. She fed on the attention at the time and was satiated. It carried her through until another such opportunity came along.

  When they arrived back she would still be in high spirits. She’d ask him if he had noticed what her female acquaintances had worn, and deride those who she considered lacked dress sense. She would laugh at some of the things the men had boasted about – which at the time had apparently so impressed her. And she would be so affectionate, that when they went to bed he was a very happy man. Yes, it would all be very worthwhile.

  Just occasionally her mood would not be sustained once they had left the party and she would come home agitated and miserable. Fraser could only guess at the reason, but he would have an exhausting task on his hands trying to bring the colour back into her face and the light into her eyes. She would profess a headache, but he knew better. In some way she had, in her own eyes at least, failed to achieve the success she needed. He would try hard to boost her, telling her how wonderful s
he was, how no one had come anywhere near her, how everyone had told him how lovely she had looked, but the mood would remain stubbornly unyielding. He would be helpless to do anything but wait for it to pass.

  Fraser sighed. That was the past, and it was all over. Now he had to face arriving at a party on his own, and all of a sudden the tongue-tied man he had been in his twenties returned. He was about to turn tail and run, when the door opened. Marion – who had been a friend of Margaret’s for many years – stood there overdoing the warm welcome.

  ‘Fraser! How lovely to see you! I’m so glad you’ve come – we all are. We’ve all been thinking of you so much – how terrible it is for you. But you’ve done absolutely the right thing to come out – it’s no good sitting on your own and moping – Edie would really not want you to do that!’

  She was making it worse and worse. Emotions flooded through him – the overriding one being amazement at his own stupidity – fancy exposing himself to this! How soon could he leave?

  He was about to mutter something about not being able to stay long when Margaret appeared and drew him in. ‘Chin up,’ she muttered. ‘The first time is the worst. Look, I’ll come and sit with you for a while.’ She steered him into the room where people were mingling and those who knew him fell silent, not knowing what to say. Fraser smiled at them dumbly, and followed Margaret to a couple of chairs in the corner, where he sat and wished he were anywhere but there. This was even more difficult than he had anticipated, and he didn’t know how he was going to get though it.

  ‘Don’t go away, Margaret,’ he pleaded. ‘I don’t want anyone else telling me what a good thing I’ve done in coming out.’

  ‘Don’t be an ass,’ said Margaret ‘You’ve got to try and talk to people a bit. You’re just wallowing in your misery, Fraser. Try and take an interest in someone else – it’s a sure recipe for feeling a bit better.’