by Lucy Coleman
After that she disappears; we hardly exchange two words before she heads off to the school.
Olwen’s words seem to rattle around inside my head for a long time after her departure. Absentmindedly, I find myself chewing the end of my pen, remembering the moment when I first decided I was going to sleep with Nic. As his face fills my head my heart squishes up a little and my stomach starts to flutter. This is that first flush of attraction, the one you think will go on forever. And when it starts to fade that’s when it’s like a punch in the gut. You know it was only a fleeting attraction and the more you find out about each other, the more it erodes the wonderfully warm feelings that were there at the start. Until you reach the point, sadly, where everything they do is annoying, or bores you to tears. This will run its course. Nic definitely isn’t ready for a full-blown relationship and with my track record I know the odds are stacked against me. I don’t believe I have the emotional capacity at the moment to give a proper relationship what it requires. Surely Nic is aware of that, though. As I’m equally aware of his situation.
I shift the papers in front of me, around. What was it Paige said? Ah, here it is:
Me: Why do you think your relationship works, Paige?
Paige: Because I’m a better person when I’m around Darren. We work as a team. Without him I’m not the sum of half of that partnership, I’m probably only thirty per cent of it. Does that make any sense? Simply knowing he’s mine, and I’m his, alters the way I look at everything in life. Even when he isn’t with me I approach life in general with more confidence and a sense of security, I suppose. Knowing someone has your back no matter what happens, is priceless. And I would do anything for him, because my life would be nothing if he walked away. And that’s why we work at it because what we have is precious to us both.
I sit back, my eyes filled with tears. She’s so young and she’s heavily pregnant with her first baby. To me it sounds like a rather scary situation to be in and yet she faces it with a belief that everything will be all right. She’s calm, positive and happy. I’ve never, ever had that feeling and I envy her.
Glancing up at the clock I see it’s almost noon and time to begin interviewing couple number five. I quickly square up everything on the desk and put the recorder in place, before clicking on the Skype icon. It takes a few seconds before they accept the call at the other end and the screen opens up in front of me.
Ivor and Mary Chappell are sitting together behind a desk in the corner of what is probably their sitting room. In the background a clock is chiming on the hour and Mary smiles, apologetically, until it finally lapses into silence.
‘I’m so sorry about that. It was my father’s clock and we love it, but it’s such a pain when you’re talking to someone. I’m Mary.’
Ivor leans forward, with a little nod of his head. ‘I’m Ivor.’
‘Lovely to meet you both. I’m Tia Armstrong. Thank you so much for taking part in our feature about how to keep the love alive in a relationship. How long have you guys been married?’
‘Forty-eight years—’
‘—and counting.’
Mary begins and Ivor finishes off her sentence.
‘He’s a keeper,’ she chimes in. She turns to face Ivor and they smile at each other.
‘And she’s my angel. Mary keeps me in line and stops me going off the rails.’
‘Is it OK if I record our interviews?’
They both nod.
‘Great. Then tell me about the beginning and how you both met.’
They are content to casually chatter away, bouncing the conversation back and forth with ease. The joint interview is done in just over forty minutes. Mary then disappears to put the kettle on, while I talk to Ivor. He’s a very gentle man but with quite a sense of humour; quite disparaging of himself and very appreciative of Mary’s influence throughout their life together.
‘I was a rather rash young man, when we first met.’ He smiles at the memory the words invoke in him, as his thoughts take him back in time. ‘Mary calmed me down and my mother was relieved at the time, as I have a tendency to act first and think later. Mary, of course, had a good head on her. She’s very particular, but easy to please.’ He chuckles to himself, enjoying some private little joke.
Half an hour later we’re done and he goes in search of Mary. When she returns she’s carrying a cup of tea.
‘I wish you were here, my dear. We could sit over a cup of tea and a slice of cake, which is much more civilised. But what would we do without this new technology. It’s wonderful, isn’t it? We’re able to watch the grandkids growing up, even though two of them are in France and one of them is in the States. It’s a big world out there. Where are you based?’
You can’t fail to warm to her; we spend a good ten minutes chatting as I tell her about the Gower coast.
Her interview reflects her warm and loving nature. She is a nurturer and it’s easy to see that Ivor and Mary were meant for each other. This is enduring love because the flame has never diminished. It’s obvious that even after all these years they would still choose each other and that touches my heart in a very profound way.
‘I never tell him off,’ Mary confides. ‘But he needs a little chivvying along at times. Point him in the right direction and he’s off and running, quite happily. He tends to procrastinate at times and I’ve had to learn to be patient with him, rather than giving him a prod and telling him to get on with it. But we’re all wired differently and that’s what makes life so interesting.’
Neither of them comes across as being judgemental in any way, but what stands out is that deeper understanding and connection they share. They don’t dwell over the petty things in life and that graceful acceptance, if you like, of their individual idiosyncrasies is a beautiful thing to witness. When they sit together the body language between them is loving and caring, just little touches of the hand here and there. Lots of proud little smiles pass between them and the way they finish each other’s sentences in a seamless and natural way, makes me want to say “aahh” – I have to forcefully stop myself in case it comes across as patronising.
As the article is going to be the one that goes out in January, when Ivor returns, so I can wind up the interview, I ask each of them to give me a list of five New Year’s resolutions. We end up in fits of laughter, as Ivor’s are surprising and adventurous. He says he is working his way down their bucket list. Mary’s are more practical and I realise that contrast is the reason why Ivor is free to think about the things that would create incredible memories.
‘Chalk and cheese, as my mother used to say, but it works.’ Ivor’s words mirror my own thoughts.
‘Tell me about your Christmas traditions. Is every year the same?’
Mary begins. ‘Oh no, quite the reverse. We take it in turns visiting the kids. We have one year in France and the next in California. Santa Barbara, actually. Of course, it’s such a great contrast to the early years, when it was all about school plays, Christmas carol services and midnight mass.’
Ivor turns to smile at her. ‘The nice thing is, we don’t have to do the cooking anymore.’
That makes Mary laugh. ‘When did you ever cook the Christmas dinner?’
‘You wouldn’t have eaten it if I had. But I know how to carve and I’m the expert at getting a roaring fire going in the grate. We’ve had some good times, though, haven’t we, my dear?’
This is a great angle for their article. How families come together despite the miles between them.
‘Do you have any photos you’d be happy for us to use in the article? Just something that gives a hint of the difference between the Christmas family celebrations in France and Santa Barbara. Some photos of the Christmas table, or the decorations, maybe.’
Ivor nods, enthusiastically. ‘Oh, we have lots of photos, all right.’
‘This year it’s France again and Christmas Eve they hold a party. Everyone in the village is invited. Our son and his wife have a rambling old house which they run
as a bed and breakfast business. They never have paying customers over the Christmas holidays. Anyway, when we’re all there we fill the entire house.’
‘All?’
‘Yes, our other son and his family will fly in, too. The following year we will all descend on them. It’s the highlight of everyone’s year, our Christmas get-together. But we have two Christmases, because when we get back we have a second Christmas celebration with other family members in the UK.’
I guess I can put Ivor and Mary down as being firmly in the I love Christmas camp.
‘We do love a party,’ Ivor adds.
‘Ivor, could you sum up what Christmas means to you in one sentence?’
He tips his head back slightly, giving it some thought.
‘Being surrounded by the people I love. You can’t ask for any more than that.’
‘And you, Mary?’
‘The new memories we make with every passing year, that our children and grandchildren will remember long after we’ve gone. In the same way that Ivor and I both have wonderful memories of Christmases with our own parents. I’m a firm believer in counting your blessings and we have been truly blessed.’
They turn to smile at each other and the image of little children running from room to room, playing hide and seek flashes through my mind for some reason.
‘We play silly games and take long walks; there’s time to reconnect and catch up with what everyone is doing. They all lead busy lives and if they were still in the UK I suspect we’d only get together for one day at Christmas.’ Mary has a point and I’m sure that’s how it is for a lot of families.
‘We always arrive home on a high and it sets us up for the year to come. We speak to the kids every week and as long as they are happy and enjoying their lives, it allows us to pursue our own interests. Isn’t that right, love? There’s a lot of living still to do.’ Ivor looks to Mary, who nods and the eye contact between them speaks volumes.
In that split second a flash of Mum, very pink in the face, as Dad leans in to kiss her beneath the mistletoe hanging in the hallway, springs into my head. The look on Ivor’s face is the same look my father had on his face that day. One of pure, adoring love. I gulp, willing myself not to tear-up and clear my throat in an attempt to refocus my attention.
When the interview is finally concluded and I begin to review the notes I’ve made; my mind starts to go off at a tangent. If I pair their story with Nic’s, the angle would be the way in which a new year inspires us all to look forward with optimism and purpose. Even for those whose lives have yet to fall into place. Whether, or not, we formally go through the ritual of making actual resolutions when a new year dawns, we usually have a plan. The one thing that it would demonstrate is that hope is always in our hearts, no matter where we find ourselves on life’s journey.
I won’t know until I interview Nic if that’s true for him, of course. But my gut instinct is that while he isn’t quite there yet, the next few months are going to see big changes taking place. If what Olwen has already told me about him is a fair assessment, he’s starting to tire of being in a bad place and feeling overwhelmed. It’s good to think that maybe my arrival here might have been a bit of a catalyst, triggering a new sense of clarity. He’s missed being in the cottage and while it represents a drain on his finances still, the attachment he has to it is meaningful. I hope I’ve reminded him of the pride he should feel for what he’s done here, rather than looking at it and only seeing the list of jobs he still has to tackle. And I know that whatever fee I manage to negotiate for him will be well spent.
My phone pings and it’s a text from Hayley.
Just a heads-up. Expect a call from Clarissa, like now. Call me afterwards.
Within seconds my phone starts to vibrate and it’s the lady herself. I steel myself, waiting to find out what’s going on now.
‘Hi, Tia. I need you to pop back to London for a staff meeting in the office on Friday. I’ve checked with Hayley and she says you don’t have any interviews planned for that day.’
I feel myself visibly sagging. It’s a command, not a request, but it’s a long way to go just for a staff meeting.
‘Oh, I was rather hoping to pull together a draft of today’s interviews and give you a rough idea of how the January article will go. I still have a candidate to interview for that, but I do need your approval on the slant I’m taking with that one. There’s still time to change the focus if you aren’t convinced it will work.’
The pause is a surprise, as it’s easy enough for me to attend the meeting via Skype, rather than waste a whole day travelling up and back.
‘No. I need your presence here on Friday, Tia. Hayley will be in touch with the travel arrangements. See you then.’
Click and she’s gone. I dial Hayley.
‘What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know. I’m online, making your travel arrangements, now. There’s a train leaving Swansea at a minute to eight on Friday morning, gets you into Paddington at eleven. The meeting here is at noon and I was thinking of booking a return at, say, three-fifteen? That will get you back around twenty-to-seven in the evening. Clarissa said the meeting will take about an hour. I thought we could go for lunch and have a chat before you head back.’
‘Great, thanks. That works for me. I can’t imagine what’s so important that I have to attend in person. Have you heard any rumours about redundancy, or streamlining?’
‘No, I would have been straight on the phone if I’d heard anything. Everyone’s a bit on edge here after word went out about Friday’s meeting. Hand on heart I haven’t even seen anything confidential land on her desk. If I knew something that I couldn’t divulge, I’d at least warn you that trouble was brewing. It had better not be cutbacks. I’m at the top of my pay scale and I could easily be replaced by someone still climbing the ladder.’
If Hayley hasn’t a clue what’s going on, then I know this is something that has suddenly blown-up.
‘I’m sure that wouldn’t happen and Clarissa is well aware how many people came and went before you arrived. You’re efficient and you seem to have her sussed, Hayley. The editorial staffing numbers have slowly increased over the past two years and I’m sure that will be the focus if this is a budgetary thing.’
‘Well, try not to worry and if I do hear even the teensiest snippet of info I will call you straight away. I’ve arranged for those train tickets to be sent to you tomorrow. Take care.’
I feel deflated and the thought of heading back to London so soon, even for one day, fills me with dread.
I begin dialling and when I hear Nic’s voice it’s hard not to launch into a whole rant about my concerns, but I rein myself in.
‘Hi, Nic, I need to book a taxi for Friday. My boss called and I have to go back for a staff meeting. I’m catching the eight a.m. train from Swansea and will need picking up at around twenty-to-seven in the evening. Can you do that?’
‘This is a surprise. Seems a long way to go for a meeting. I can’t do the early one as I’m already booked but I can find someone to cover it. I’ll be there to pick you up and bring you home, though.’
He said home and it throws me for a moment; then I realise that to him this is home and it’s only natural that he would say that.
‘Thanks. It’s a nuisance and something I could do without, but I can’t get out of it.’
‘I hope it isn’t bad news. It must be quite serious to drag you all that way. They aren’t going to change their minds about letting you stay down here to complete the project, are they?’
He sounds a little concerned, but I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be in a position to demand any money back from him, even if I am called back to the office earlier than expected. But I have to admit that had crossed my mind, too.
‘It might be a streamlining initiative. That’s usually what these staff meetings are for, when someone comes up with a bright idea to increase efficiency. Or maybe a mandatory staff briefing session from the group chairman. What tim
e do you finish?’
‘I won’t be back until just after six, I’m afraid. I have a meeting with Gareth to look at the events he wants me to cover this summer. That’s about as exciting as it gets in my little world.’
He’s doing it again, judging himself.
‘Well, let’s hope that when I arrive in the office on Friday I still have a job. If not, I might have to spend the weekend working on my CV.’
22
Caught in a Trap
I take a calming walk along the beach, finding a dry spot in among the rock pools to sit and ponder. Max appears a few minutes’ later and we exchange a cursory nod. It’s obvious I have something on my mind that is worrying me and it takes a huge effort to shake it off and appear upbeat.
‘Was the fishing good yesterday?’
He nods. ‘Enough. And a few to take into the village for one or two folk who aren’t very mobile and enjoy a visit, as well as the catch of the day. I’m away for a few days, so I’m glad I’ve bumped into you. Thought I’d mention it in case you wondered, what with the recent goings on.’
‘You’re hardly a noisy neighbour. I’m not here on Friday myself, but I’ll keep an eye out over the weekend.’
‘I wasn’t thinking about my place but about you. Just be extra vigilant is all I’m saying.’
I’m half-tempted to tell him about Nic, but I hold back. He looks tired, or maybe he’s just preoccupied and he wasn’t expecting to find me sitting here. I wonder whether he’s noticed anything worrying lately but I’m sure he’d say if that was the case.
‘It’s unlikely strangers would wander down this far. And everything is locked so no need to concern yourself – things don’t mean much to me but people, well, that’s something else. I’ll leave you to your thinking. The sea is a great calmer of emotions and turmoil. Just let it all go and watch the waves. It’s a quick fix, I promise you.’