Out of Step

by Maggie Makepeace

  ‘Ah well, I’m very used to binoculars,’ Nell said. It felt like a major accomplishment.

  They walked right down to the dunes on the east bank of the river. The sea was grey and sullen, with irritable white horses further out. Isolated clumps of marram grass were bent double and blew back and forth making semicircular tracks around their bases. On exposed faces the sand rose up in clouds and blasted everything in range. It was not the sort of day to linger, but Nell would happily have done so. She took out a hanky and blew her nose, then she stuffed it and her hands deep into her coat pockets and looked out to sea. A line of black ducks was flying low over the water to the west. Scoters probably, but she didn’t feel she knew Rob well enough to volunteer this. She looked at her watch, and reluctantly decided that it was time to return to the cottage and begin cooking.

  ‘Have you got any veg in the house?’ she asked.

  ‘Spuds, I think, and maybe some sprouts.’ He was scanning the waves. ‘There’s some sea ducks out there – scoters, I think.’

  ‘Yes. Shall we get back then?’

  The kitchen, when they returned, was almost as hot as the oven. Nell stripped off the multicoloured cardigan and hung it carefully on a low hook amongst a jumble of other clothes. Then she began cooking.

  Rob went out to chop and bring in firewood, whilst she got on with it, then sometime later, when the meal was all ready he sat opposite her and poured glasses of wine for them both, smiling at her in the confident way of one totally at ease with himself and pleased with life. I could stay all day, Nell thought, (and half the night!) but I won’t. I’ll leave at about threeish, so he’ll have time to miss me. I’ve no idea what the future holds, but I don’t want him ever to take me for granted – like Martin did.

  She could tell that Rob had enjoyed the food enormously. He said so. It was good to be appreciated. He was sorry she had to go now. That was good too.

  ‘It’s only half-past three,’ he protested.

  ‘Yes, but it will be getting dark soon.’ She put her coat on hurriedly before she could change her mind, collected the empty containers into her basket and made for the door.

  ‘Nell?’

  ‘Yes?’ He came over to her and took her face between his hands. They were firm and warm, and oddly comforting. She felt like a young animal about to be soothed. Then he bent his head and kissed her briefly, but very precisely on the mouth, and she felt anything but calm.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That was so good.’

  She got home without any awareness of having driven any distance at all, and then discovered she’d left her cardigan behind by mistake. She wasn’t at all surprised. In her experience, people who didn’t want to leave, nearly always ‘forgot’ something. She rang at once to make arrangements to retrieve it.

  ‘I’ll drop it into the shop next week,’ Rob offered. ‘What colour is it?’

  ‘Blue, green, brown, cream, purple, you name it!’ she said. She wondered fleetingly how he could not have noticed what colour it was. She had been wearing it for at least an hour when she’d first arrived, and it was hardly subtle!

  But that was trivial, and she soon forgot it. She was happy.

  Chapter Five

  Anna was agog to hear the whole story. ‘Why didn’t you stay the night?’ she asked, as they swam side by side down the pool doing breaststroke. ‘I would have!’

  ‘I’m not as impetuous as you, that’s why.’

  ‘But you do fancy him?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘And he is getting divorced?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But he’s got two children?’

  ‘Yes. I haven’t actually met them, but Elly says they’re not shy.’

  ‘Elly?’

  ‘My oldest friend, Eleanor, from schooldays. She lives in London now, but we’re always on the phone.’

  ‘And you’re an Eleanor too?’

  ‘It’s a pretty common name these days, isn’t it? Anyway, the children are only three and five, poor little things.’ They reached the end of the pool and stopped for a breather.

  ‘Well, when he introduces them to you,’ Anna said, ‘you’ll know.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘That he’s serious, of course! It’s the equivalent of being taken home to meet the parents, but small children are much harder to impress.’

  ‘I wouldn’t know,’ Nell said. ‘I’ve never had much to do with any.’

  ‘You’re an only child?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Me too, and I’m never going to have any kids!’

  ‘But you’re a teacher?’

  ‘Yes, and that’s quite enough contact for anyone.’

  ‘It must be odd to take on someone else’s children,’ Nell said thoughtfully. ‘Somehow I could never see myself as a wicked stepmother.’

  ‘Huh!’ Anna snorted. ‘Don’t talk to me about wicked stepmothers. I’ve got one!’ And she launched herself into a fast crawl.

  When Nell caught up with her again, she asked, ‘Why is she wicked?’

  ‘God knows. It seems to come naturally.’

  ‘No, I meant, what does she do?’

  ‘It’s what she did. My mother had only been dead six months, and I was still in shock. I was five. And what did she do? She only moved in and chucked all my mother’s things away – gave her clothes to Oxfam, sold her jewellery, had the whole house redecorated, even burnt her bed! Looking back, it was as though she was trying to blot out all traces of her memory from our lives. It was unbelievable!’

  ‘How could she be so callous?’ Nell was horrified.

  ‘Because she wanted all of my father, every last bit. She didn’t want any history. I think if she’d been able to, she would have thrown me onto the bonfire too, like Guy Fawkes.’

  ‘But what about your father? Why didn’t he stand up for you?’

  ‘Oh, he was besotted with her. I don’t think he even noticed what she was doing. My mother had been ill for a long time, you see, and I’m pretty sure they’d never got on that well. So when she died, I suppose he felt released. He couldn’t wait to make up for lost time.’

  ‘But wasn’t he fond of you?’

  ‘No, I was just an inconvenient leftover from a difficult relationship with a long-term invalid, and he loved my stepmother, you see, so that made everything all right.’

  ‘Poor you,’ Nell said, reaching out and touching her shoulder.

  ‘Yes, well,’ Anna said awkwardly. ‘Now you see why I’m very suspicious of “love” in any shape or form.’

  ‘But she must be a one-off surely? All stepparents aren’t like her. It must work out well sometimes.’

  ‘Not often. But I suppose if I’m fair to the bloody woman – or at least as fair as I can be – it is an impossible position to find yourself in. You can never win. You’re always in the wrong, and you can never be a substitute for the real parent. It’s not a situation to go into lightly.’

  ‘Good thing I’m not contemplating it then,’ Nell smiled.

  ‘Oh yeah?’ Anna raised a sceptical eyebrow. ‘D’you know what I really like about you, Nell?’

  ‘What?’

  Anna held on to the edge, poised. ‘How can I phrase this? I know – you’re about as Sphinx-like as a pikestaff!’ And with that, she sank into a triumphant backstroke.

  Paul Tozer prided himself on his inscrutability. He was pretty sure that few would realise how frustrated he had been feeling of late. He’d had very little opportunity to do any of the things he’d really wanted to for weeks; one in particular. The autumn term had been a constant struggle with inadequate funds, his best teachers pushing for early retirement, and constant timetable wars. And now he was nearly halfway through the Christmas holidays, and he still hadn’t had time to get things rolling.

  He waited until Elly had taken the two boys for their swimming lesson, and then made a series of useful phone calls. It only took him a couple of hours to track down exactly what he wanted. He sat back
in his leather, gas-lifted, executive office chair, with his hands behind his broad neck, well pleased with his own efficiency. Of course his wife wouldn’t see it his way at all. She never did. He’d wait to tell her until she was in a noncombative mood. Some people are never happy, he thought to himself sourly, Elly in particular. I’ve thought up this brilliant plan to accommodate everyone in the family (at considerable expense), but just wait for her to rubbish it all…

  ‘I’m thinking of moving the boat,’ he announced the next morning at breakfast. ‘The Hamble is getting much too expensive and far too crowded.’

  ‘Oh yes?’ Elly was stirring porridge with her back to him. Their two young sons, Will and Sam, were upstairs in Will’s room, watching television.

  ‘Well, don’t you want to know what I’ve got in mind?’

  ‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me anyway.’

  ‘Look, Elly, I’m doing this for your sake. You could at least pretend to show a little interest.’

  ‘Since when has anything to do with the boat been of any interest to me?’

  ‘If you’ll just listen, you’ll find out. Now, Boxcombe isn’t far from the River Torrent, yes? And near the mouth of the estuary there’s an excellent sailing club. But better still, I’ve discovered there’s an empty quay further up river belonging to Thrushton Hall, you know, that lovely H-shaped Georgian house where Lord Pel –’

  ‘Yes, yes. Get on with it. I was brought up around there.’

  ‘Well, that’s the whole point. It turns out that I’ve recently met a friend of his, and he might be able to swing it for me to keep the boat there.’

  ‘You’re surely not going to move your precious boat to the West Country?’

  ‘Just listen, will you? There’s more to it. On the other side of the river from Thrushton Quay, there are half a dozen houseboats and …’

  ‘House…?’

  Paul silenced her with an impatient gesture.’… and so I reckon this could be the perfect answer. You could stay on the houseboat when I’m sailing mine, and maybe spend more time with your ma – and Nell, come to that – and the boys could please themselves either way, so everyone’s happy.’ Fat chance of that, but it sounded confidently benevolent.

  ‘It’s a long way from London.’

  ‘Not with the new bit of dual carriageway. I can do it in three hours, no sweat.’

  ‘So, what’s the catch?’

  Why is she so bloody predictable? he thought. ‘Do you always have to be so flaming negative?’ he demanded.

  ‘Maybe it has something to do with eight years of marriage to you.’ Elly stretched her mouth sardonically. ‘But … now I think about it… I suppose it could be a good idea. Sibyl would be delighted, and I’d love to see more of Nell. And it would be great to have proper family holidays for a change… Yes, OK, I like it. So what’s come over you? Why this sudden transformation into model husband?’

  ‘Don’t knock it,’ Paul said. ‘I should grab it while you can.’

  ‘That sounds like a threat.’ Elly turned back to the porridge.

  ‘Cobblers,’ he said calmly. ‘Only to someone paranoid like you.’ He put his arms around her from behind, but she moved so he missed her cheek, kissing her ear instead.

  ‘Too loud!’ Elly complained. ‘Go and call the boys, will you? This is ready.’

  Paul went to the bottom of the stairs and bellowed, ‘WILL! SAM! BREAKFAST!’ Then, suspecting it might be a good few minutes before they bothered to come downstairs, he slipped into his study and dialled a very familiar number. He stood there, keeping an eye on the door and muttering, ‘Come on, come on,’ until she answered. ‘Darling? It’s me.’

  ‘Oh Paul… how did it go?’

  ‘Fine. I’ve told her and, Lord be praised, she even likes the idea! So I’ll be down soon to make sure it’s as good as it’s cracked up to be.’

  ‘But that’s marvellous! I never thought she would. It makes things so much easier for us. You are clever.’

  ‘Got to go, OK? I’ll phone again soon. Love you. Bye.’

  Rob decided he should do the honourable thing. He didn’t regret the outcome of Christmas Day – very much the reverse in fact – but he told himself that he must consider Nell’s feelings. What good could he possibly be to her? He counted up his liabilities: he was about to lose his house; any money he had was likely to be bled from him the moment he’d earned it; he was obliged to put Josh and Rosie first (they were a priority he could never disregard). So there wasn’t much left. He had nothing, in all conscience, to offer her. He supposed he should ring her up and apologise. Apologise for what? For kissing her? He liked Nell, dammit!

  He delivered the garish cardigan to ARTFULL as he’d promised, when the shop opened again after the holiday break, but he didn’t linger, pretending to be in a tearing hurry. He felt bad about that afterwards, but he fell back upon an enduring habit – when in doubt, do nothing. Things often resolved themselves without one having to commit oneself either way.

  Life went on. He sighed a lot. It rained even more. The river rose. Rob kept an eye on it, and filled half a dozen sandbags just in case. The telephone rang regularly. He got on with his work.

  When Rob had turned up just before lunchtime on 2nd January, carrying her cardigan in a Tesco bag, Nell greeted him cheerfully and glanced sideways at Sibyl to check that she was on cue with, ‘Why don’t you take a break? I can manage fine on my own for a while.’ Sibyl came forward at once to say it, but Rob beat her to it.

  ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Afraid I’ve got to rush. Already late for an important appointment. Just wanted to return this.’ He thrust the bag at her, made a little gesture of apology with both palms momentarily raised uppermost, and was gone.

  Nell found herself standing there stupidly, clutching the bag. Then she closed her mouth firmly and bent her head, not wanting to catch Sibyl’s sympathetic eye. Sibyl tactfully said nothing, and went to tidy up one of the display racks.

  Nell waited more than two weeks for Rob to phone her. Silence. The telephone sat there inert, unresponsive, useless. Nell felt like throwing it through the window. Rob had definitely fancied her; she knew the signs. So why hadn’t he done something about it? She felt more angry than upset, and found herself crashing things about as she prepared a Saturday evening dinner for four.

  Paul, Elly and Sibyl arrived all together in Paul’s car. Elly and Paul, it appeared, were barely on speaking terms. Sibyl made an ‘Oh Gawd!’ sort of face at Nell as they came in. Nell wished a lot of things all at once: that she’d been a little more noncommital when on the phone to Elly on Boxing Day; that Elly and Paul would sort out their differences and make a go of their marriage; and, more than anything, that she hadn’t asked them all over for a meal that evening. She half smiled at Sibyl and took her cloak to hang up.

  ‘Wuhhh!’ Sibyl exclaimed. ‘It’s horrible cold outside. So much for global warming!’

  Nell led them into the sitting room and poured drinks.

  ‘Common misconception, that,’ Paul said, taking a careless gulp of whisky. ‘Everyone seems to think we’re going to end up surrounded by luxuriant growths of vines and lemon trees and olive orchards, and God knows what. But it’s a fair chance that it will in fact get colder here as global warming takes hold.’

  ‘Why?’ Nell asked, welcoming a neutral topic of conversation.

  ‘Oh, don’t encourage him,’ Elly urged.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Paul said testily. ‘I won’t bore them. I can say it all in a couple of sentences.’ He gulped his whisky again.

  ‘You drink too fast,’ Elly said.

  ‘Go on then,’ Nell said quickly.

  ‘Right, well it goes something like this: extra heat leads to more precipitation, i.e., snow at the poles, which leads to more ice formation and therefore to more icebergs breaking off the glaciers in Greenland, which float southwards into the North Atlantic cooling it down and making the water less salty and therefore less likely to sink. This has a good chance of
disrupting the Atlantic conveyor system altogether, and deflecting our Gulf Stream current southwards towards Spain. Don’t forget we’re on the same latitude as Labrador. Without the Gulf Stream bringing us extra heat from the tropics, we’d be very cold indeed!’

  ‘It’s just exaggeration,’ Elly said. ‘It’ll never happen.’

  ‘I certainly hope not,’ Sibyl said. There was an awkward silence, and then Elly and Paul both spoke at the same time.

  Elly said, ‘Just as well you didn’t come for Christmas!’

  Paul said, ‘Christmas wasn’t the same without you.’

  ‘Yes… No…’ Nell said. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t come, but…’

  ‘She had better things to do, didn’t you, Nell?’ Elly looked expectant. ‘What’s the latest, then?’

  ‘Maybe she doesn’t want you to dissect her entire private life in public. Have you even considered that possibility?’ Paul demanded.

  ‘Sorry,’ Nell said hastily. ‘Just got to go and see how the food’s coming along.’ She retreated to the kitchen. Sibyl got up and followed her, shutting the door behind them. She was wearing gypsy earrings and lots of loose layers of clothes, mostly of navy blue, with a long necklace of bright clashing wooden beads. She looked magnificent. Nell turned to her gratefully.

  ‘Oh dear,’ Sibyl said. ‘Those two get worse all the time. Just as well the boys stayed in London with their other grandma. Can I do anything useful?’

  ‘You could mash these,’ Nell said, offering a pan of drained potatoes. ‘What’s the problem? D’you know?’

  ‘I’ve a shrewd idea, but I won’t say in case I want to unsay it later.’ She mashed away energetically as Nell dished up. ‘Perhaps this houseboat of theirs will be a good idea. It’ll certainly make family holidays less fraught.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Hasn’t Elly told you about it? Oh dear, perhaps it’s supposed to be a secret. Pretend you don’t know, yes?’

  ‘Right.’ They carried in the food, and set it out on the dining-room table.

  Paul and Elly came in and sat down. It seemed they had reluctantly made a pact to tone down the conflict.