The gulls were completely different from the ones I was used to, these wheeled and glided in the air currents with far more abandon that they did on the flat estuary sands at home. I knew they were feeding but somehow they looked as if they were just having fun.
I relaxed, wondering when, if ever, I had felt like this.
Perhaps it was that the village was a holiday resort rather than a dormitory town for Liverpool that made the difference, but I had never really watched the sea before. I had watched the birds and the people, but rarely the sea itself. I had lived by the sea all my life but it had never made such an impact. It was the reason why the birds I loved came to my garden but my life had never been related to the sea in anything like the way it seemed the lives of the occupants of this village were. I could have lived in Orpington or Leicester for all the real wetness and saltiness of the sea had influenced my life.
Perhaps it was the magic of the village but I stayed in that garden all afternoon watching the tide coming in, counting the waves as they advanced over the rocks and joined the pools together.
After supper, which we ate together in the kitchen, I sat gazing down at the lights of the fishing boats as they approached the harbour.
“This is such a lovely view, it’s like being a bird, looking down on everything.”
“I call it Brigadoon.” Dani said as she emptied the last of the wine into my glass and picked another bottle from the shelf behind her, handing it to me to open. “It’s as if we appear in the summer when the world notices us and comes down in droves, then in winter we disappear, perhaps not for 100 years, but off the face of the real world for a few months.”
“It’s beautiful.”
As I poured Dani’s wine I asked as casually as I could about something that had been bothering me. “Am I your only guest?”
She seemed not embarrassed at all “Oh yes. When I’m here there’s only one room really, that’s why we like couples. It’s not a problem.”
“Won’t your parents worry, I mean you alone with a stranger?”
Dani laughed, and waved her left hand towards me.
I noticed for the first time a paleness on the ring finger. “You’re married?”
“Just. Separated, nearly divorced, just a matter of time really.”
“You look far too…”
“young?” she finished his sentence for me. “People always say I look like a teenager. I suppose there’ll be a time when I’m glad I look young but it has been the bane of my life. People still ask me to prove I’m old enough to drink. Flattering really, but a bloody nuisance.”
“Are you going to tell me or do I have to guess?”
“I’m 27, 28 next month.”
“Don’t for God’s sake tell me how old you think I am.” Although I knew I was going to be flattered I did want to know what she thought.
“Wild guess?”
“Go on.”
“This is dreadful! I’m going to be hopelessly wrong, insulting you one way or the other. 40?”
“Ouch!”
“I knew I’d upset you. Don’t take any notice, I’m always hopeless at judging people like that.”
“I’ll be 30 in May.”
“Which date?”
“28th”
“Snap! Twins! Well two years different but twins! That’s great.”
I couldn’t reply. I was two years older than this ‘slip of a girl’ as I knew Max would have called her. The previous night in the pub on Dartmoor I had felt old before my time, I felt I had missed out a generation. Now I knew I had. Everyone saw me as 40, middle aged, old.
“I’ve upset you. I’m sorry. What can I do to make up?”
“Don’t worry, nothing. There’s no need. Honestly you’ve no need to worry”
She topped up my glass, and drank more from hers.
“What do you do? For a living?”
“Ah, that’s something I’ve been thinking about. Not much really. I write, I give talks, I’ve broadcast a bit, all about birds. I’m an ornithologist, not properly trained or anything, it’s just that I know a lot about them.” I felt I had to explain.
“I’ve never met an ornithologist. Will we have anything of yours here?” She reached behind her for a pile of books and magazines. “There, those are the bird ones.”
I leafed through one of the magazines until I found one of my articles, turning the magazine to face her on the table I tried to grin but it probably seemed to her more of a leer. “There, that’s one.”
“Not a very flattering photograph.”
“They were surprised at how young I was. The magazine wanted an old bald or white haired chap peering over half moon glasses. They wanted me to look more distinguished I suppose.”
“Do you do anything else? There can’t be much money in writing about birds.”
I was embarrassed. I had never been expected to talk so openly about things that were normally kept private. “Man of independent means?” I said the words as if they were a question and in quotes.
“I’ve never met one of those either.”
I found myself beginning to tell Dani something about my life until I realised how dreadful it sounded; living with an unrelated older man, with the house keeper who was my old nanny, not needing to work, contributing nothing to any thing or any body; so I turned the question round. “What do you do?”
“You mean when I’m not house-sitting while I wait for my divorce to come through?”
“Do you work? I know it’s not a particularly good question to ask these days all women are supposed to work aren’t they?”
“No I don’t I always wanted to but Pete said no. He thought I should stay at home and arrange flowers and clean and wait until I had babies and while I was waiting I could treat him like one, feed him and service him on demand. Have his scotch ready when he got back from work and practically warm his slippers for him.”
“You sound bitter.”
“I am.”
This time I topped up our glasses. “What did you want to do?”
“What do I want to do? What will I do? I’ll have my own business, I don’t know what doing but I’ll be my own boss. If I’m going to make any money I’m going to make it for me not anyone else.”
I could find no answer to the determination in her voice.
It was a few minutes before she broke the comfortable silence.
“You know what makes you seem so much older, Charles?”
“My clothes? My hair? My speech? My manners? Everything?”
“Well, yes, you have something there, but even if you grew your hair, wore scruffy denims and swore like they do down at the Smugglers you would always seem old because you think old. Spend more time with young people. It sounds like your friend Max is very old fashioned as well as being old and Monika’s not going to help. You’ve got to be with young people Charlie, lighten up. Learn to chill out. When do you have to be back?”
So I decided to stay a while in Polperro.
The next day I rang Max. I had expected him to be angry, to tell me I had let them all down, that he had had to explain my absence to everyone. I could imagine Susannah smirking that I had run away again, and Graham triumphant that I could not face him. Max simply said that my grandmother had been disappointed that she hadn’t talked to me more as there hadn’t been much opportunity the day before. It was enough to make me feel guilty, as I suspect it was meant to.
I gave him the address and told him how he could get in touch if he needed but I was staying a short while to ‘think things through’. He didn’t ask about what, if he had I’m not sure I could have answered. He said he’d send my binoculars, and I asked for two particular reference books and for him to forward any correspondence. I was going to have a working holiday.
This time, in running away, I was going to do something positive. I was going to change.
I was going to watch, listen and learn to act my age.
I soon settled into a relaxed routine.
; I would get up early and walk along the cliff path watching the sun coming round the eastern headland. Then I’d have breakfast with Dani at the kitchen table overlooking the harbour noticing, day by day, the changing levels of the tides.
The parcel arrived from home, with it there was a note telling me to enjoy my holiday, everything was fine, they understood why I had gone away when I had, funerals were always a time for re-appraisal. I read the letter carefully, making sure there were no hidden messages. I could find nothing written between the lines.
I had initially intended to spend the mornings working, but the books remained unread on the table. I had only one article to write by the end of January, so there was no urgency, though I was conscious that had I been at home it would already have been written and posted. More often than not I just sat watching the birds and the elements beating against each other.
At lunchtime we went down to the Smugglers where we would take turns to walk round to the bakers to buy the pasties for lunch. Whenever I walked through the narrow streets of the village more people would say ‘Hello’ ‘Good morning’ and ‘How are you today?’ than I ever had walking around the streets of Hoylake or West Kirby.
In the afternoons we would do some gardening if it wasn’t raining or read if it was. I loved sitting in the broad arc of the window in my bedroom looking out at the water running down the glass, and beyond it the million shades of grey of the sea. When it was raining everything was grey; the sea, the garden, the cliff on the other side of the harbour, but when the sun shone the colours were Mediterranean in their brightness.
When I had been there just over a week Dani broke the routine, saying she had to go out for the day. She wouldn’t be back till late so could I manage supper without her.
Although we hadn’t been spending most of the days together I missed the feeling that she was just inside the house or just down in the village. I wondered what she was doing. I worried about her.
I was sitting in my window watching the waves in the moonlight when I heard “Hello, I’m back!” I glanced at my watch, it was nearly eleven o’clock. “Wanna drink?” Dani was shouting up the stairs as if it was a perfectly sensible time to start a bottle of wine. Before I had roused myself she had sat down next to me and put the bottle and glasses on the table. “Do you mind? Me being here I mean? I love watching the waves crashing over the rocks, there are some storms when the waves hide them completely.” She pointed to a picture on the wall, an atmospheric brooding grey and brown picture of the rocks in a storm.
“I’ve got to go back to London, just for a week or so.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, I suddenly didn’t want to think about leaving, so I said nothing as she continued “You can stay if you like.”
“Could I?” As I spoke I realised what had been odd about the day. I couldn’t remember ever having spent so long alone. At home on the days Max went into the office Monika would be around, and if she went out it would never be for more than a few minutes. I had certainly never spent a night alone in a house.
I thought that too ridiculous to mention.
“Of course. You’re not going to wreck the place and it’s always good to have the lights on at night.”
“Is it good or bad? The reason you’ve got to go?”
“Good really. I’ve got to clear out all the stuff from my old flat. My divorce has come through.”
I realised that she wouldn’t appreciate congratulations or commiserations so I tried to be practical. “Will you have to meet him?”
“Hell no! He’s away, America I think, He’s taken everything he wants leaving me to take what I want and get rid of the rest. Quite honestly I’ve already got what I want out of this divorce.”
“What’s that?”
“My freedom.”
“What…?”
“…went wrong? I can’t blame anyone but myself. I just married the wrong man for all the wrong reasons. I thought being married would give me all the things I needed, like security, I thought I would never have to be lonely or alone.”
“It didn’t work out like that?”
“Nope. ‘fraid not.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I’m not, I’ve long ago put it down to experience. It’ll make me more mysterious won’t it? Divorcee is much more interesting than spinster don’t you think?”
“My parents divorced.”
“Well that’s something, at least we didn’t have any children to mess up. Did your parents mess you up?”
“Do I look messed up?”
“Well yes to be honest. You are an odd mixture of old man and young boy, you just haven’t sorted out who you really are. You’re trying to be what you think other people want you to be. Am I right?”
“Probably.”
“Sorry.”
“What for?”
“Being too blunt. Not being fair. Being rude. I don’t know your life do I? I don’t know what you have to go through so it’s not for me to make comments. But I bet you something.”
“What?”
“I’m the first person who’s ever talked to you like this.”
“You’d win.”
“Come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out of his chair, leading me to a cupboard on the landing. She unlocked it and handed out two suitcases.
“Go on open them!”
I did as I was told and found them to be neatly packed with a man’s clothes.
“There was one thing you could say for my husband, ex-husband. He has, had, good taste. He’ll never need these again. You have them.”
“I can’t possibly.”
“Yes you can. They’ll fit you and they’re just what you need to lighten up your wardrobe. They’re all good stuff.”
“I can see that.”
“Go on. They’re no use to me and he’ll never come down here again. Take it as payment for you looking after the house while I’m away. You will stay and look after it won’t you? I’d really like you to be here.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
The week Dani was away was another step in my education. I had never had to fend for myself, feed myself, remember to turn the emersion heater on and off, remember to turn the lights out and lock the doors before I went to bed.
It was the first time I had been so responsible.
And I loved it.
I was left entirely to my own devices. I wrote my article, tried on all the clothes, even the shoes fitted, did some hoovering and dusting around the house and some weeding in the garden.
I didn’t leave the village once but my horizons were widening. I talked to people I would never have spoken ‘at home’, I always found someone to chat to in the pub. Back in Hoylake when I had gone into a pub, as I did very occasionally, I would have a single half pint sitting at a table on my own, maybe saying ‘Hello’ to Glenda who had worked behind the bar for years, but I had never chatted to any of the regulars. Here, I was included in conversations, my opinion was asked about anything and everything, my assistance demanded to solve crossword clues and help untangle word games. I found their acceptance relaxing, and I knew I was becoming less stuffy by the day.
The Daimler remained in the garage until I had a phone call from Dani. Could I pick her up at Liskeard station that evening?
I had enjoyed my time alone, but I was really looking forward to seeing her again as I drove through the unfamiliar narrow country lanes.
She said nothing as we drove back, she didn’t want to call in at the Smugglers. She said she just wanted to get home.
That night Dani knocked on my bedroom door when I was just dropping off to sleep. “Can I come in?” It sounded like she was crying. I put on the dressing gown that had been her husband’s and opened the door, she walked straight across the room to a chair in the semi circular window. I followed her, sitting down in the other. We both looked out, the sea was calm and there seemed to be a silver path from the land to the moon which was nearly full.
“Sorry, I was just lonely.” And she burst into tears.
I had no idea what to do. What did she expect of me? Should I reach over and hold her hand? Should I stand up and put my arm round her shoulders to comfort her?
“Do you want a drink? Should I…”
“Oh Charlie it was awful.”
I decided to reach across and take one of her hands in both of mine.
“It was bound to be painful.” I tried to find the right words. Everything that came to mind sounded trite. “It’s all over now.” “There there.”
I had to let go of her hand when she needed to wipe her eyes and blow her nose with a soggy handkerchief. I felt so awkward but I really wanted to help her. She had been so good to me.
“Tell me what I can do.”
“Give me a cuddle? Hold me?” She had stood up and walked over to the bed. She clearly expected me to follow. It was as she walked over I realised how few clothes she had on. She lay on the bed. Did she want me to make love to her? She hadn’t given me any idea that she was interested in me in that way. She had only said ‘a cuddle’, perhaps, after all, that was all she meant so I sat rather awkwardly on the edge of the bed and self-consciously put my arms around her. “It was so awful” she was sobbing.
I let her cry. I had never kissed a girl, not properly, on the lips. It seemed ridiculous that I had never wanted to. Anyway this wasn’t the time. I held her awkwardly, hoping that she would get some comfort from my just being there. I couldn’t do anything else.
Eventually her sobbing slowed down so it was more of an intermittent hiccough. I manoeuvred a clean handkerchief out of my pocket and used it to wipe her eyes.
“You OK?”
She nodded. “Sorry. I’ll go now. I didn’t mean anything.”
“I know.”
“When I do mean something you’ll know it.” She was making a joke of it. Trying to smile I went along with the moment. “When you do, I’ll not be such a gentleman.”
The next morning I woke early intending to ignore the events of the night before. By the time Dani came downstairs I had laid the table, squeezed the oranges and the coffee was bubbling in the percolator. I was determined that neither of us would be embarrassed. Dani, however, was not going to ignore it. “Thanks for last night, I needed to know I wasn’t a total shit.”
Walking Alone Page 10