"Eleanor?"
"Yes?"
"It's Tom."
"I know. What's up?"
"Nothing. Are you okay?"
"Sure. You checking on me?"
"I suppose I am."
"There's no need."
"I know, but,… "
"But what?"
"Things,… they're different. There's a distance come between us suddenly and it hurts."
"I know. Me too. But there's no going back."
"What about forward? How do we put this right? We have to put this right, Eleanor!"
"There's only one way to do that," she said.
"Eleanor, please don't go. Promise me we'll talk. Tomorrow night. I'll be back tomorrow night."
"What time?"
"Straight after work - about five."
"Fancy a stew for your tea? "
"Sure. I'll bring a bottle a wine. We have to work something out."
"Say, hello to Rachel for me. Goodbye, Tom."
She hung up. Things sounded better and I felt a little more at ease, knowing she would at least be there. All I had to do now was think of something to say that would make her change her mind, and stay.
Later, I was standing in the assembly hall watching a couple of fitters as they put the finishing touches to the last of our diesel engines. I was impressed, as always, by the care they took, but in regarding them my eyes were merely resting, mesmerised by their movements while my mind played back the events of the past twenty four hours.
I could still feel the shock of Eleanor's nudity, her potent shape, her heat, her scent,… and inevitably the touch of her hand as she stroked me. It must be human nature to resist change even up to the last minute when a revolution is unavoidable and imminent and when the warnings are all around you. In truth, I had wanted to live the rest of my life in my father's house with the sound of Eleanor padding down the hall every morning. I had wanted to be in her easy company, while at the same time exploring all that was extraordinary about Rachel. I had wanted to earn my living in the quiet back water of Derby's dilapidated factory - except now, even here in the assembly hall, the harbingers of change were unavoidable.
There was an eerie quiet where once there had been an infernal roar. Now the ring of a spanner echoed loud in the emptiness, and all around the lights were going out. In six months this engine and it's mate would be powering a ferry in the Baltic. It would have to run for decades without complaint, long after we who had brought it into being had passed into oblivion. By then this shed would be derelict. The cups would have huddled around the dusty kettles and the drawings which bore memory to this beast's miraculous intricacy would have dissolved into the oily puddles on the floor.
Change was coming. I could not think of Eleanor without thinking of her touch, without seeing the heavy breasts with their dark tips, the milky white of her skin and the long cascade of black hair. I could not live with her any more and think such thoughts. We could not dine together by candle light, nor drink wine and laugh without my eyes resting on the voluptuous curves beneath the black cloth of her dress, and wanting to see her again as I had seen her last night. I had to persuade her to stay,… to remain safe in my father's house where she belonged, but also I had to go and the only place left for me was Paris.
Chapter 33
By mid afternoon, I was clock watching, my eyes inexorably drawn to the giant dial of the Smiths clock suspended at the far end of the office. It had kept time there for as long as I could remember,… the good years, the boom years and now seemed intent on drawing out our decline as if to punish us for our incompetence. It was not a good sign and the day seemed set to be interminable. Then the telephone rang.
"To.., I kno.. you.. work..g but I really ne..d ..ou to come. Can you meet me?"
The line was bad, a lot of chopping and fading - a mobile near a dead zone. I took a guess. "Eleanor?"
There was a pause. A clearing of the line. "No,… it's Annie."
"Annie,… if this is about the house?… ."
"House! F..ck th.. h..se! It's Stevie. He's ha.. a.. accident. I'm a… th… h.pi..tal. Casu… lty."
Stevie! An accident! Hospital! Mind focused, car keys in hand. "I'll be right there," I said.
It wasn't serious. He'd ridden his bike into a wall and cut his head. I might have done the same myself at his age and my father would not have turned a hair, simply slapped a plaster on and sent me to lie down for a bit. They were just coming out of casualty when I arrived, breathless and giddy with anxiety.
"Look, Daddy. Stitches!"
"Ah,.. very pretty. Gemmie's going to want some when she sees those."
I hadn't heard his voice in weeks. I knelt down to hug him and at once there rose the threat of tears - mine, not his, but they were squeezed away and swallowed down with all my strength before I faced Annie.
She looked cool. "I'm sorry," she said. "I thought we'd be ages. I wanted you to stay with him while I picked Gemmie up from school." She began to walk away from me. "Come on Stevie."
I didn't understand. "Is that it then?"
"What?" She glanced at her watch. "Look, I've got to be at the school gates in twenty minutes. I thought you were never going to get here."
"I came as quickly as I could. Why didn't you say? I could have gone straight to school for her myself."
"I don't like you driving Gemmie around in that old thing, it's not safe."
"What? But that's absurd. What am I doing here then?"
"I thought I needed you."
"And now you don't? But I've just walked out of work, without a word to anyone - I thought you were,… desperate."
She thought for a moment, thought perhaps about telling me she didn't need me any more,… . thought twice for some reason and softened a little. "Why not go round to the house? Wait for me. Have you still got your key?"
I hadn't spoken to her in months, and now her tone seemed casual,… brisk and business like. It was as if nothing had happened. "Is that,.. convenient?" I asked. "I mean, I don't want to bump into Alistair or anything."
"Alistair won't be there."
She walked on, dragging Stevie behind. "It's up to you."
Take it or leave it, she was saying. So, I went, but only to spend an hour with the children, and as drove, I could already feel my heart tightening in anticipation of our parting.
It was strange, letting myself into the house, like rediscovering a part of me I had forgotten, or like bumping into an old girlfriend, years later and feeling none of that former emotion. The yellow textured paper in hall, the bottle green carpet at thirty quid a square meter plus VAT - all of it summoned up memories of a former self, and though it was just six months ago it was a self I no longer recognised, nor cared for any more.
I’d been living in a vacuum and had it not been for Annie's infidelity, I would have spent the rest of my life worshipping at this empty shrine, these worthless things, this sad sodding house,… . this loveless life. I had thought it was as good as things were ever likely to get, and it frightens me now, the ease with which we can deceive ourselves. This, above all else, was Annie's legacy.
I was puzzled. Was there something she had not told me? And why, suddenly, was she so relaxed about my being there alone? Was she not afraid I'd run off with the TV and the sofa? I sank into that sofa, sank into its luxurious cushions and checked my watch. Whatever happened, I told myself, whatever was said, I would be out of there by six and with Rachel by a quarter past.
"You look very smart," said Annie, when she finally arrived. "Is that a new suit? Since when did you wear a suit to work? Have you been promoted?"
"Well I,… "
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy. Look at me! Look at me!"
"Yes, Stevie. Don't pick at your stitches, okay? There's a good lad."
"So, Tom, how have you been?"
"Mummy, Mummy, Mummy. Stevie's done a poo!"
"Oh, Stevie Have you?"
"Done a poo. Done a poo."
"Tom, see to it, would
you?"
"What?"
"I've got to start their tea."
"Okay, come on then, Stevie."
It was another thing I had forgotten, the pace of life with young children,… the endless demanding of attention, the endless, jarring interruptions making it impossible to communicate with one another on a meaningful level. All I could recall about Annie at such times was how tired she'd looked. And when at last the kids were packed off to bed and we finally had the chance to talk, it seemed neither of us could be bothered. One had no choice under those circumstance but to take it on trust that the other was all right,… only somewhere along the way, I had lost her.
At five thirty, I found myself alone with her in the kitchen, the kids settled in front of the T.V. Even a rare appearance by an estranged father took second place to the video player and the ritual of endless cartoons until bed time. I felt uncomfortable with Annie and couldn't stop thinking of how intimate we had once been, of the things we had done and said and shared. All gone now,… things that might never have happened, the bowl tipped over,… the memories trodden into the dirt.
"Is your Dad all right then?" I asked her.
"Fine."
"Your sister?"
"Okay. She's expecting again."
And that was about the level of it. She looked good I thought, looked better than I remembered in a long time. Her skin seemed smoother and there was more life, more shine in her hair. Alistair had given her what I could not, I thought - a reason to shine and it made me feel worthless. I glanced again at my watch. Time to push off, I thought.
"When does he get home then?"
She gave a careless shrug but did not reply.
"I'll try to be mature about it," I went on, pointlessly. "I mean I've got to accept him, haven't I? I don't suppose we'll ever be mates exactly but at least civil. That's the best way isn't it? It'll just make things harder otherwise." For want of somewhere to rest my eyes, I looked at my watch again. Quarter to six. "Better be going. Thanks for letting me see the kids, Annie. Take care now,… "
"I'm not with Alistair any more," she said.
She fixed me quite coldly, arms folded, and she leaned against the door frame, seeming to bar my escape, challenging a response. "We've split up. Are you pleased?"
"I don't know. I'm a little surprised." Except I wasn't. Eleanor had predicted it, only I hadn't expected it so soon. "What happened?" But I didn't care. There was no time to unravel it. I'd moved on, soothed the tenderness, closed off the areas most damaged.
"He couldn't cope with the kids," she said.
"Understandable, I suppose. Does he have any of his own?"
"No. He wasn't that keen on children, when it came down to it."
"They're a shock to the system if you're not used to them."
She laughed. "Aren’t they just!"
It seemed simple enough then: Man called Alistair, wide arse, faded three series Beamer, falls for leggy blonde,… blonde kicks husband out, but children get in way of unbridled passion,… Alistair moves on, seeking next leggy blond, this time without adult baggage. Bastard!
And here I was, making excuses for him.
Then I began to wonder about the way she'd invited me in, the way I'd slipped seamlessly back into the chaos, placating the children, changing nappies, finding the right video, the one they were both happy to watch, jollying them along. Husband slinks home,… happy to forgive and forget?
"Now, wait just a minute, Annie."
She read my mind and laughed some more. "I don't want you back," she said. "Is that what you were thinking?"
I bridled. "Back? What do you mean back? It was you who left me, remember? Or rather kicked me out so you could be with him."
I took a deep breath. No, this was not the time to have the row I should have had with her six months ago. It was five minutes to six. "I've really got to go," I said.
"I want the house."
Now we were getting somewhere. "I thought that was all settled. I thought the contract was going through. Fifty fifty we said."
"They've backed out."
"Since when?"
"Since I took it off the market last week. I need the house. It's for the children. It's the family home, and I'm already living here. My solicitor says I've a good chance if it should go to court, which it will if you don't agree."
"I can't talk about this right now, Annie. I'll call you tomorrow. Or better still, what the hell: Okay, you're right. It's yours."
"Don't get smart with me."
"What do you mean, smart? I’m an idiot. I couldn’t play anything smart if I tried. Just sort it out - whichever way you want it. I don't care."
She looked stunned.
"What?" I said. "What's the matter? "
Could she not see? I wanted shut of the problem. I wanted to get out, and the easiest way was simply to agree. She didn't understand how tired I was, how petty it all seemed and she started looking for logical motives in places where logic didn't come into at all. Then I saw her eyes glow as she fastened upon something. It was clearly a revelation to her.
"I know your game," she said.
"Annie, I've no time for this now. I've really got to go."
"You're shagging Eleanor!"
It came out of the blue, a hot knife slashing across my face. Ugly word: shag. Trivialising,… derogatory,… . and not true! It was also a sensitive subject for reasons Annie could never have guessed in a million years.
"Don't," I said.
She gave a mock shudder. "I always thought there was something strange about you and her. You were always too chummy for my liking. The way she looks at you,… . all big eyed and hungry,… it used to make me sick."
"Why are you doing this?"
"I wonder what they'd think about you and her in court. I mean, you living with another woman. It doesn't paint you in a very sympathetic light, does it? How long has it been going on? Years I'll bet. No wonder I found myself another fella."
"That's all rubbish."
"Still, the onus is always on the man to prove he's blameless."
Blameless? No, I wasn't blameless. I had a lover,… only it wasn't Eleanor. "You started this, Annie. You can't twist it round and pin it on me now. You've nothing to gain by dragging Eleanor into it,… . making up some story about us. You've got the house, you've got custody of the children. You've got everything you had before, but without my irritating presence. What else could you possibly want? Now, please,… leave Eleanor alone. You know what she's like,… she's fragile."
"Weird you mean,… "
"… .and I don't want her dragging into it. It's not fair. She's been a good friend these past months, but that's all. It would upset her to hear you saying these things. She doesn't deserve it."
"Don't you ever wonder what people are thinking? You can't see it, but I can. Now your dad's gone, she'll be after her next meal ticket. Wake up, Tom!"
I closed my eyes, not daring to speak until the anger had simmered down. Eleanor was blameless. What was it about her, I wondered, that made her such an easy target?
"If people gossip, it's up to them," I said. "But they wouldn't know the truth if it hit them in the face. If you must know, I'll be staying with her until some time in the New Year. Then I'll be going away. I'll let you know my new address when I'm settled."
"Oh?" She tried to sound casual but my words had nudged her off her poisonous track and now she was curious. "Going away?"
"Derby's is shutting, you see?"
"It is?" She was surprised.
"You haven't heard?"
"No! Tom,… you've been there for years!" She turned away and drummed her fingers slowly upon the work top, thinking, holding back from saying she was sorry;… sorry about Derby's, sorry about the way she'd spoken,… . sorry about sleeping with Alistair.
"I've been offered something in France."
"France? You?" She didn't sound convinced.
"Why not? It seems the best thing all round."
"I supp
ose so. But the children,… ."
"I know. I'll miss them,… " It was nothing, I told myself. I'd manage. So would they. People did it all the time. "There'll be holidays,… you could bring them over."
But I knew how things would be - both of us always too busy and if I saw them more than half a dozen times in the next ten years I'd be lucky. Before long Gemmie would be sixteen and on the pill,… and I would not know her. Even a week is like a lifetime to a growing child and faces not often there are soon faded out.
Just then, Gemmie came in, shuffling slowly, probing the atmosphere between us. She gave me a soft look, laid her head in my lap and at once I began to melt.
"Tell me a story, Daddy?"
Her hair felt soft against my hand. I had forgotten the touch of it, like being brushed by downy feathers. "I can't, Gemmie. I've got to go, sweetheart."
"Aw,… please,… " She cuddled closer, hiding her face.
"You could stay a while if you like," said Annie and as she spoke, she gave me a smile. It was lukewarm, but tending towards sympathy. A strange smile, I thought, and it made me wonder if, for all her words, for all her irrational poison, she was telling me we might eventually patch things up if I played my cards right.
It crossed my mind,… a flash of light, a picture of the way things could be. We could make the right noises,… say the right things - perhaps not now but in the coming months. And if I put as much effort into it as I had put into finding Rachel, then there had to be a good chance of us returning to normal. The carpet at thirty quid a square meter could be mine again, my feet snug once more beneath her table, the only damage being two whacking great solicitor's bills.
Except, of course,… I couldn't.
It was not a question of forgiving her, for try as I might I had never been able to bring myself to bame her in the first place. From the very beginning, I had shared the blame. There had always been a sense of having played my part, of having chosen to sleep at a time when I should have been more vigilant. I had lived a dream,… and now the dream was broken. I did not blame her, but I could no longer trust her with the blind, unconditional trust of love. There would be no going back for us. I glanced again at my watch. Five past six, now. If I burned rubber I might still make it in time. Ten minutes to Rachel and Highmoor and broad horizons,… of sex until dawn, of Mediterranean beaches and long distance love, and emotions aroused by the merest glance or the poise of a hand.
The Road From Langholm Avenue Page 24