Fraser's Line

by Monica Carly

  He had said he would be able to come this afternoon. He had promised. There might be a whole two hours together of blissful love-making. She longed to hear him ring the doorbell. She waited.

  As the time went on she began to get irritated. Where was he? She knew delays could occur but now frustration was setting in. She decided to ring. If there was another excuse she did not know how she would stand it.

  She cut off the call, and with a face like thunder, hurled her mobile phone at the wall where it thudded with an ominous sound and then lay in two pieces on the floor. Sobbing hysterically she threw herself face down on the bed and gave full vent to her fury and disappointment.

  Chapter 10

  Where had he put that scrap of paper? Fraser scrabbled through the pockets of the jacket he thought he had worn to the party, but to no avail. He tried the trouser pockets – and in the end searched through every pair hanging there, although he was sure he knew which ones he had worn that evening.

  He sat down feeling annoyed and frustrated. It had suddenly come to him where he could go for help – hadn’t she said something about if he should need an ear to bend? – but now he was powerless to pursue the idea. He supposed he could ring Margaret and ask her to phone Marion for Angela’s number, but that was the last thing he wanted to do. Margaret would be her usual nosy self and want to know why he wanted it. He could see her secretly rubbing her hands at the thought that he was about to ask Angela for a date – and congratulating herself for getting him out to that party.

  A remote possibility occurred to him. He got up to fetch his wallet, opened it, and there, tucked in the corner was the little piece of paper.

  That was one hurdle overcome, but this was immediately followed by another huge one. What would he say? He certainly didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. And what on earth was he doing passing some of his family woes on to a complete stranger? The funny thing was – she hadn’t seemed like a complete stranger last Saturday evening. She had seemed somehow familiar; it was as if the usual barriers when it came to getting to know someone new weren’t there. He must be imagining that. This was a really bad idea. Fraser screwed the paper up into a ball and tossed it at the waste paper bin. It missed, and lay on the floor, seeming to look at him and say, ‘What are you frightened of? Come on, pick me up and make that call.’

  Well, if it was only a matter of his own pain, he could cope. He certainly wouldn’t bother Angela with that. He may have been suffering, but it had been a comfort to him to think that at least his two daughters were happy and fulfilled, and he had two lovely grandchildren as well. But now it seemed as if everything he’d believed in and treasured was disintegrating – that nothing was as he had thought.

  He retrieved the piece of paper, unrolled it, and without allowing himself to delay any longer, dialled the number. It rang and then clicked on to the answerphone. He was about to hang up when he found himself saying, ‘It’s Fraser. We met at Marion’s monstrous party and you were kind enough to give me your telephone number. Something has recently come up and I was wondering if I could take advantage of your kind offer and speak to you. But I don’t want to bother you. Please don’t worry if you’re too busy. It’s quite all right.’ He left his phone number and rang off, feeling rather stupid.

  Five minutes later his phone rang.

  ‘Hello,’ said Angela. ‘Sorry I missed your call. I’ve just come in from shopping. How are you?’

  ‘Feeling a touch confused and silly,’ said Fraser. ‘I shouldn’t have troubled you. The thing is, I have a few family traumas and I remembered that you encouraged me to feel free to contact you. But now that I’ve done so I’m wondering why on earth you should be in any way interested in the Coleman goings on.’

  ‘Actually,’ she replied, I’m glad you’ve phoned. To tell you the truth, I’m at a bit of a loose end just now, as I’ve a few ‘goings on’ myself that I’m waiting to have cleared up. And I’m inordinately interested in other people – it’s a lifelong habit I can’t seem to break – so I’d be very pleased to spend a little time, if you will allow it, listening to anything you like to tell me. Do you want to speak on the phone or shall we meet up? I’m free for the rest of the day if you can spare the time.’

  He was a little taken aback – he hadn’t quite visualised things developing so quickly, but thought he might as well strike while the iron was hot.

  ‘What about meeting for lunch,’ he said. ‘I know a pleasant little café near the river.’

  ‘That sounds a great idea. And then we can go for a walk and you can talk as much or as little as you want. I’ll see you there.’

  An hour and a half later they were seated in the small café enjoying a rather well cooked first course. He had gone for an old favourite – liver and bacon – and she was having baked cod and vegetables. They had done the pleasantries, and now Fraser was feeling decidedly awkward. What had he let himself in for? He had no idea what to say or how to begin. But Angela seemed perfectly relaxed and at ease. She said, ‘Has something new happened?’

  ‘I’m feeling slightly shell shocked,’ he said. ‘These last six weeks I’ve been bitterly regretting the loss of my wife after 31 years of the happiest possible marriage, but at least I’ve found comfort in the fact that our two daughters enjoyed all the benefits of being brought up by their very special mother. Sarah, the older girl, seems to have everything now – a good husband, two lovely children and a thriving business, and I felt it was only a matter of time before Joanna found her way forward and started to make something of herself. Then I have this astonishing conversation with her when she seems to be accusing her mother of – oh, I don’t know what – but somehow of being responsible for the misery both she and Sarah are experiencing. I had no idea they were – I thought they were both happy in their different ways.’

  Angela continued to eat in silence.

  ‘Oh, I can’t do this,’ said Fraser, feeling uncomfortable and not knowing how to go on. ‘I’m so unused to delving into things. I’ve always taken the line that people know what’s in their own best interests and who am I to interfere? The best thing I can do is leave them to get on with it. What do I know? I don’t even know how to talk about it.’

  ‘I tell you what,’ said Angela. ‘I can never resist desserts – I ought to, I know, but there you are. Let’s choose one, and then we’ll go outside and take a walk – and perhaps talking will be a bit easier.’

  ‘I really don’t know.’ Fraser sat there shaking his head. ‘You are very kind, but perhaps we’ll finish our very nice meal and call it a day.’

  He called for the menu and they both studied it. Then he became aware that Angela was stifling a noise. He looked up in surprise and saw her shoulders shaking – was she crying? No, there was a smile on her face and she seemed to be giggling.

  ‘What is it?’ he asked, beginning to smile a little himself, not knowing why, but simply because her laughter was infectious.

  ‘Have you read the bottom of the menu?’ she asked.

  ‘Baked jam sponge and custard.’

  ‘No – underneath that – right at the bottom, in small print.’

  He looked closer and read out: ‘‘Please be aware that we are working with nuts in our kitchen.’ Oh my goodness,’ he said, ‘what are they going to serve up, do you think? Upside Down Pudding?’

  ‘Perhaps some kind of Fruit Fool. Rhubarb?

  ‘Rhubarb.’

  ‘No doubt topped with cracked wheat.’

  By now they were both laughing, and suddenly Fraser felt a weight lifting from him.

  ‘Look,’ he said. ‘I’m the nut, here. I’ve been handed a rather special opportunity to talk through some of my worries, and I’m such a coward I was on the point of throwing it away. I don’t know why I feel it would be a relief to talk to you, but I do. Let’s have our pudding and a cup of coffee, and then we’ll go and walk it all off, and I�
�ll try and bear my soul, if you can stand it – or at least that part which is concerning me at present.’

  ‘That sounds a great plan,’ she said. ‘Well done.’

  As they walked along by the river bank Fraser started to tell Angela what was troubling him.

  ‘I’ve been so miserable at the loss of my beautiful Edie, but I thought that at least I could look back and be thankful for my marriage and two children who were privileged to have the best mother in the world. I believed they had their feet planted firmly on solid ground – but now it seems I’ve been deluding myself all these years. I was astonished at the way Joanna lashed out, and the things she said. I couldn’t believe her bitterness and resentment.’

  He went on to relate the events of that evening, when Joanna had asked for a car, and when he demurred, had claimed that Edie had been giving her money for some time, and had actually promised to buy her one.

  ‘How did you respond?’ Angela asked.

  ‘Well, of course, I got a bit angry and must have raised my voice, because Joanna told me to be quiet. Then out came the accusations – that Edie had had ‘hang-ups’ and a ‘guilt complex’ and had put such pressures on the two of them with the result that they are now – what’s the word? Dysfunctional.’

  He outlined a picture of Sarah putting her family under pressure with her strategies of military precision, and he passed on the analogy Joanna had used of the express train. Then there were Joanna’s problems, the way she was riddled with indecision, and getting nowhere. But what had hurt him most were the statements about Edie – he could hardly bear to repeat them – but did manage to get out the bit about ‘used him abominably’ and ‘behaved outrageously’.

  Angela was quiet for a while. Then she said, ‘I’m very glad you telephoned. You have had an awful lot thrown at you in a very short space of time. It does help if you can share some of it.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have involved you,’ said Fraser. ‘I suppose I should really have contacted Margaret, but I didn’t think I could face some of her astringent comments. She never was Edie’s number one fan – although they seemed to get on pretty well on the whole. And I couldn’t possibly burden my poor darling mother – she’s 85 and getting forgetful and very frail.’

  ‘Can I ask you something?’ said Angela. ‘Do you think people are always what they seem?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he replied. ‘I suppose so – well, I think people generally are. I’m pretty sure I am. I’m an uncomplicated sot of person. With me, what you see is what you get.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine that’s true, but I’m wondering if it’s always the case with other people. Perhaps, sometimes, you get what you don’t see?’

  ‘I don’t know how to answer that. This sort of talk isn’t my forte. How can I know if I don’t see something?’

  ‘Sometimes what you’ve missed may be brought forcibly to your attention, and then it can be rather a shock. Do you think your daughters have picked up the same sort of approach to life that you have? Do they have your values?’

  ‘I don’t really know what my approach is, except that I like to do the right thing by people, and make as much of a success of my life as I can. How can I put it? Life, to me is like a kitchen. I look for a design that will be a good arrangement, provide everything that’s needed in an efficient way, then I go about sorting out the parts, and then I install it, to the best of my ability, and there you are – home, wife, family, and a reasonable income – and that’s it.’

  ‘And then you live happily ever after?’

  ‘Yes, for the most part, I have done. And I think Edie did too. I know she was moody, but that was just her temperament. When she was happy she was exhilarated – delighted with herself and with life – and I always believed that things were good for her, on the whole.’

  ‘I like your kitchen analogy. Just suppose, there happened to be a weak point in the basic fabric of the room which you didn’t realise when you put all your nice new shiny surfaces in place, and for a long time everything’s fine. But gradually the fault begins to make itself felt – perhaps a leak happens, and slowly the new fitments get contaminated, and become warped and twisted. What then? How would you deal with it?’

  ‘Are you saying that I’m just papering over the cracks?’

  ‘It’s worth thinking about, in light of what you are now learning about your daughters. It could be that there has been some stuff going on under the surface that you weren’t aware of, and this has now resulted in problems for your girls.’

  ‘This is all a bit deep for me,’ sighed Fraser. I’m not used to analysing things like this. I’ve always just taken them as they are.’

  ‘As I see it you can do one of two things,’ said Angela. ‘You can set out on a voyage of discovery, which will involve some unfamiliar sights and experiences. Because the territory will be new you may be get worried, and there could well be some pain along the way, but in the end you will arrive at a place where you understand your daughters far better, are able to communicate with them on a deeper level, and perhaps even be a support in helping them through some of their difficulties. In the end you will feel better about yourself.’

  ‘And the other option?’

  ‘Bury your head in the sand and forget any of these things were said. Go on exactly as before, keeping the image of everyone that you have held up to now, and stand back while events move on to their logical conclusions. These may be negative for everyone concerned, perhaps even disastrous.’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve always been a bit of a stick-in-the-mud.’

  ‘It’s your decision,’ she said, ‘but will you think about it? I know it’s new and rather daunting, but I promise you one thing – I’ll help where I can. I have had some experience in sharing people’s problems.’

  ‘Why should you do that for me? Until recently I was a stranger. And I know so little about you. Won’t you tell me more about your situation? This all feels rather one-sided.’

  ‘I will tell you in detail soon,’ she said. ‘As I’ve said my affairs are in a state of limbo at the moment. I’m waiting to be called back to the States, and I’m a little on edge until that happens. The waiting is hard, so I’m glad to be involved in a problem quite removed from my own, and I believe that because I can be objective, without any personal or emotional involvement, I can be some help to you, and that would actually be helping me too.’

  ‘I will think about what you’ve said. I promise.’

  ‘There’s one thing I want to ask you. Have you wrapped up your wife’s affairs?’

  ‘It’s funny you should say that. Joanna asked me if Edie had left a will, and although I’m pretty sure she didn’t, I haven’t looked through anything. I did get rid of all her clothes, but she kept her paperwork in a locked bureau, and I haven’t had the heart, up to now, to go through it.’

  ‘That’s something you will have to do, one of these days, and if you don’t mind me being there, I could come, when you feel you can do it. I needn’t look at anything, but if it would give you a little more strength, I would be happy to do that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘You really are very kind. I rather think that might help a lot.’

  By now they were almost back to where they had left the cars.

  ‘You have made me feel much better,’ he said. ‘I’ll think about what you’ve said, and let you know. I realise what I should do, and what I must do where all the personal papers and so on are concerned. I’m going to see Mother on Saturday. After that I will be in touch.’

  ‘Promise?’ she asked, as he held the car door open for her to get in.

  ‘Scout’s Honour. ‘Oh, there was something else Joanna said.’

  She rolled her car window down and waited.

  He leaned down to speak to her. ‘Do you know, her latest boyfriend is a Pakistani!’

  ‘And that’s bad?’ asked Angela.
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  ‘Well, it’s obviously most unsuitable. She said I’d disapprove, and then she told me that.’

  ‘And do you disapprove?’

  ‘Well,’ said Fraser, ‘the thing is …’

  ‘Yes?’ prompted Angela.

  ‘The thing is…’ Fraser, was searching for words.

  Angela waited.

  ‘The thing is, I hate Indian food!’ he exclaimed vehemently.

  Chapter 11

  She must try and be more organised this time. What a pity that when Fraser had come last week she had run out of energy. Marjorie regretted that growing old meant everything became a great effort. She had planned to tell him all sorts of things – things she should have dealt with a long time ago – but when it came to it she had simply not been able to do it.

  Dear Fraser still seemed vulnerable. Here he was, a grown man and a grandfather, but she often saw the small boy who had come face to face with tragedy when he was very young, and who had had his world shattered. How could she have put all the facts before him then? He had already learned one of life’s hardest truths – that it is the people we love the most who have the power to inflict the deepest pain. He had dealt with it by closing down the part of his mind that held the painful memories. He had pushed away the unwelcome facts, and tried to carry on as if nothing had happened. She had let him, because it seemed too cruel to do anything else. And yet she longed to say, ‘Do you remember when you and daddy planted those seeds? Do you remember how we all went on a picnic?’ Rightly or wrongly she had not done so, with the result that the subject of his father had become increasingly difficult to bring up.

  And now she had left it almost too late. When he came this time she would tackle it straight away. She would show him the letters and the old photographs, and the certificates, and she would try to tell him as much as she knew.