The Liminal Space

by Jacquie McRae

  ‘I don’t think that’s a crime. Unless you’ve got a warrant, get off my property.’ I turn and walk towards the house. Juno barks at him and follows me up the path.

  ‘I’ll be back, William,’ he calls out from the gate.

  I am shaking. I slouch down in the nearest chair and inhale through my nose to the count of three, then exhale to the same count. I repeat this until my body relaxes.

  I hear a knock on the door and then Arlo calling out to me.

  ‘Are you alright, William?’

  ‘Yes. I’m fine.’

  ‘I just saw a policeman leaving your house. I thought I’d better see what trouble you’ve been getting into.’

  ‘He’s new. He’s just checking me out.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He would have heard the rumours and decided to pay me a visit. He’s just trying to make a good impression.’

  ‘I don’t know why you don’t put the record straight, William.’

  ‘It’s no business of mine what other people think of me.’

  ‘But you know it’s all twisted and made up. They say you’ve done heinous things.’

  ‘I have done heinous things, Arlo.’

  ‘In your mind. Anyway, we’re talking about a long time ago, William.’

  I look out to the garden and push open the window, and a warm breeze wafts in. The leaves of the horse chestnut are just starting to change from saffron to a deep red. I’ll miss watching the leaves unfurling like a giant’s fingers in early spring.

  ‘Who do you think forgives you, Arlo? If you don’t believe in a God?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe you forgive yourself. Forgiveness doesn’t turn a wrong into a right, William. It just means that you accept that what was done has been done.’ He raises his eyebrows at me like he’s asked a question and is waiting for an answer.

  MARCO

  ‘There’s no way I’m working at the gala, Dad.’

  ‘Don’t be mean, Marco. It’s a fundraiser for the kids.’

  ‘I’m not being mean. I’m not Florence fuckin’ Nightingale. I took William to the hospital yesterday. I don’t need to do a gala day as well.’

  ‘It’s not about need, Marco. You love William. And anyway, this is your village. Why wouldn’t you want to help?’

  ‘Because it’s a stupid village, Dad. Everyone’s all up in everyone’s shit.’

  ‘It’ll do you good to get involved in your community. You might even learn something. Anyway, what sort of business are you doing that you’d care if people knew?’

  ‘Have you finished?’

  ‘Actually, no, I haven’t. You’re on dinner—and I already told them you’d help. Think of it as paying your board.’

  I feel like throwing something at him as he walks away.

  ‘When is it?’ I yell at his back.

  ‘Tomorrow, so you can help me in the garden today.’

  I spend the afternoon digging another plot for him, although he already grows way too many vegetables. He wanders around the village like Friar Tuck, leaving little boxes of his surplus veggies on people’s doorsteps.

  I stack concrete blocks around the back of his shed. I think he might have some hoarding tendencies—nothing gets thrown out. I sort onions, garlic and beets on an old filleting bench at the back of the garden. I see my penknife skills along one side: Marco was here and then he left! 2000. I grab a Stanley knife from the shed and slice Left forever 2020 underneath it.

  In the morning, I see Dad checking out what I’m wearing.

  ‘I thought you were helping me at the gala.’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Oh. Nice of you to dress up for us.’

  ‘I like to make a good impression. Just because I come from a village doesn’t mean I have to dress like it.’

  ‘Suit yourself.’ He smiles at his pun.

  They’ve got the same stupid fête flag outside the office that they used when I was at school. Throngs of people are already crowding the gates. I tilt my head down as we drive through the main entrance to unload the vegetables. I help Dad move the heavy bags into a classroom. We have to make several trips. He wanders off halfway through unloading. A balding man in jeans that are too tight in the crotch steers himself towards me. He looks like the sort of guy who could carry on a conversation about nothing all day. Hoping to avoid him, I scan the crowd for Dad and spot him talking to an attractive woman over by some sheep. I wander over and give him a look that I hope conveys my unhappiness at being here.

  ‘Marco, this is Philippa Seymour. She’s the new headmistress here.’

  I can’t help but notice that Ms Headmistress has amazing legs.

  ‘I might have stayed at school longer if we’d had teachers like you.’

  She doesn’t return my smile but puts out her hand for me to shake.

  ‘Nice to meet you, Marco. Your dad helps us out a lot.’

  ‘Yeah, I think he’s after an OBE.’

  ‘He might get one. Thanks for helping us out too. It was hard finding an auctioneer at such short notice.’

  I look at Dad, but he turns away and is suddenly very interested in the sheep.

  ‘Um. I don’t think so, Philippa. I don’t know anything about that.’

  Philippa looks confused.

  Dad grimaces.

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t get a chance to tell you,’ he says. ‘Reg pulled out at the last minute, so I thought, you know, you being top salesman in London, you’d be perfect. Look how nice you’re dressed too.’ Dad grins.

  ‘We really appreciate it.’ Now Philippa gives me a smile. ‘It’s raffles, so you’re not really auctioning anything, just calling out the prizes.’

  I look again at her legs and up to her boobs. No wedding ring on her finger.

  ‘Yeah, okay.’

  ‘Great. Come on, I’ll take you over to the truck.’

  ‘A truck?’

  ‘Mmm, that’s our stage. You’ll be on the back of it.’

  Dad smiles at me and walks away. I hear him say, ‘A rock and a hard place’.

  I stare at the back of his head.

  ‘So how long have you been in the village?’ I ask her.

  ‘I started at the beginning of the term.’

  ‘Hope the townsfolk haven’t been too cruel. Teachers usually fare better than most, at least. So, you would have been subjected to the village inquisition?’

  ‘Oh yes, I’ve been interrogated by the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker. Or at least their wives. I think I may have fallen short of a pass as I’m missing a spouse. Your dad said top salesman. What did you sell?’

  ‘Apartments in central London.’ I push up the sleeve of my suit to expose my Rolex. ‘I’m just having a break at the moment.’

  She nods without looking at me or the watch and waves to someone.

  ‘I’d better go and check up on a few things. Wait here, and I’ll send someone over to help you. I’ll give them the list of what we’re selling. They’ll hold up the item and deal with the money side. Thanks again.’

  I watch her arse as she walks away. I’m thinking that a few hours on the back of a truck is a fair trade for a piece of that.

  A few minutes later, I hear a familiar high-pitched voice. I turn around, and Kay Baxter is rushing towards me, waving sheets of paper in the air.

  ‘I’m your assistant, Marco,’ she squawks from across the field.

  JAMES

  Every morning, Mum comes in and opens my curtains to let the light in, yet every day, I feel the darkness creep a little closer. This morning I get up before her. I drag yesterday’s clothes from the floor and pull them on, then stuff a T-shirt into a backpack. I take my coat from the hook by the door, and I’m halfway out it when Mum walks into the hallway.

  ‘Where are you going, James? It’s not even light outside.’

  ‘I’m going for a walk and then maybe to the library when it opens. You can tell Dad I’ve gone to look for a job.’

  The path to the river is desert
ed, and I head towards the old railway bridge. I traverse the track under it and hide myself behind one of the concrete pylons, covered in years of graffiti. An odour of decay rises up from the ground. A big boulder obscures the path below me. I put my coat down on the damp grass and use the T-shirt I brought as a pillow. I lie down on top of the bag and close my eyes. It’s hard for me to sleep, but it’s harder to be awake. I count out loud in the hope of drowning out the voice in my head.

  ‘Hello.’

  I sit bolt upright and turn towards the voice. William and Juno stand at the top of the bank. William slides down and stumbles to a stop. Juno snips and snaps her body around the boulders and bounds up to me like we’re lifelong friends. She licks me and then picks up my backpack with her mouth. She drags it towards William and leaves it on the grass between us.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he says. ‘I think she may have been a packhorse in a previous life, as she loves carrying things.’

  Juno comes back to me and plonks herself alongside me. She rests one of her paws on my leg. William follows Juno’s tracks, and then he too sits down beside me. I wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t. He just sits there, gazing out across the river below.

  I look at the dog and the old man sitting next to me. My thoughts scream at him, What are you doing? Go away. I say nothing. William turns his face towards the sky. ‘That breeze feels so good on my face.’ He tilts his chin upwards and closes his eyes and appears to go to sleep. I keep staring at him. Willing him to go away.

  ‘Have you read any of Kierkegaard’s writing, James?’

  I don’t answer. My brain is trying to process what’s happening. I don’t even know this man.

  ‘He said that life can only be understood backwards; but we have to live it forwards first. I think that’s one of the most profound things I’ve ever heard.’

  He stares at me, and then he flinches. I get a fright when Juno leaps up and bounds over to William. She nudges his arm and then goes around to his other side. With her nose, she urges him to get up. As he stands, I see him wince with pain.

  ‘Ooh, that was nasty. I think Juno’s telling me it’s time to get home.’

  I look at the dog and then back at William.

  ‘Are you alright?’

  ‘Mmm, I will be. I know it’s an imposition, but would you mind walking a little way with us? I have a bit of a headache, which is affecting my sight. I’m just on Spring Street.’

  I want to say no, but the sky is only just starting to lighten, and there is no one else around. I nod and help William up the bank. Juno leads, and it only takes a few minutes before we’re at his house.

  I think everyone in the village knows where he lives. A lot of people in Radley can trace their family here back five generations. They’ve never taken kindly to strangers. Especially dishevelled ones who don’t go to church. I’ve seen kids from the village throwing food and obscenities his way. I remember seeing him up a ladder on my way home from school once. Classical music blared from speakers on his porch, and he appeared happy as he hosed off ugly words that had been painted on his house.

  William leans over and unlatches the willow gate.

  ‘Thanks, James.’

  ‘Will you be alright?’

  ‘Yeah, I’ll be fine.’

  I watch him as he turns away. He only manages a few steps, and then he appears to slump. Juno turns and barks at me.

  ‘Do you want some help?’

  He just nods his head.

  I take him inside, and he falls into a chair.

  ‘Shall I ring someone?’

  ‘No, I’ll come right in a minute, and I’ve got Juno. I just overdid our walk. Would you mind moving that stuff off there for me?’

  I move the cushions to one end of the sofa. I gather up the newspaper and a few books and place them on the floor.

  He stumbles over and lies down.

  ‘Thanks, James. I’ll be good now.’ He pretends to smile.

  Juno licks my hand on her way past to lie alongside the sofa.

  EMILY

  I tuck my small canvas bag of overnight things into the cupboard under the cedar stairs. It’s more like a room than a cupboard and has an armchair by the window. You can walk around easily without banging your head on the stairs. A yellow stained-glass window lets the light in, and even when the sun’s not shining outside, in here it feels like it is. I wonder how much longer I’ll have the refuge of the library.

  I can’t even imagine my life without the manse in it. Where would I go every day, for a start? I know Colleen is suspicious that I’m sleeping over. I’m thankful that she’s preoccupied and hasn’t said anything. Everything seems wrong, and I don’t know how to make it right. I feel anxious, and I don’t trust myself to make the right decisions about anything. It’s just like it was when my grandmother was alive. Throwing dirt onto the top of her coffin was one of my happiest moments. Today, I’d get pleasure from throwing dirt onto the top of Rob’s coffin as well. I know that makes me a horrible wife and an awful person, but it’s the truth.

  I shouldn’t have read so many romance novels—then perhaps I wouldn’t have had such a ridiculous idea about love. I thought being married would make everything better, not worse. The longer I’m married to him, the more he drinks and the worse his temper gets. I stay out of his way as much as possible, but I have a knack of winding him up. My grandmother’s voice screams inside my head. It’s your own fault, Emily. If you weren’t so stupid, I wouldn’t get so mad. I suppose I have her to thank for making me good at reading people’s faces. As soon as I see the skin above Rob’s mouth draw tight, I know it’s time to leave. If I can make it out the front door, then I’m safe. There’s no way he’d bother to come look for me.

  I know what Maggie was suggesting when she said that Rob had been seen hanging around the fish ’n’ chip shop. Everyone knows that Lindy at the chippy will give you more than a free packet of sauce. I wanted to tell her that I’d already worked that out by myself, but I played dumb. When Rob came home last week, he had a strange smell about him. I was in the post office the next day and got a waft of the same scent. I turned around and saw Lindy, and it dawned on me in a rush. Cheap perfume, mixed with fat from the fryers. That’s why he’s been leaving me alone. I know everyone in the village will be feeling sorry for me, but I want to send her a thank-you card.

  On my way home, I see William in his back garden chopping the deadheads off a flowering shrub. He waves and smiles when he sees me.

  ‘Hi, William.’

  ‘Hi, Emily. Have you got time for tea?’

  I look at my watch. Rob’s not due home for an hour, and I only have to warm up his dinner.

  ‘I’ll have a quick one. Thanks.’

  He puts the secateurs into a jacket pocket, and I follow him down the winding path to his garden shed. I choose the frayed armchair closest to the door and collapse into it. He brews a pot of tea and places it like a peace offering on the coffee table between us. I pour some milk into a cup and add a teaspoon of sugar. I look around at his books lining the shelves. Any empty wall space has been painted with phrases, and even the back of the door has One day at a time written on it in large letters.

  He swipes at his brow and pulls a strand of long grey hair off his face.

  ‘What’s happening, Emily?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean, how are you?’

  ‘I’m okay.’

  He holds both his hands around his teacup and takes a deliberate long sip. He looks at me across the rim, and I feel the tears welling up.

  ‘Take your time, Emily. I wasn’t a good doctor, but I am a good listener.’

  Instead of taking just one breath in, I inhale three times.

  ‘I don’t think I can stay married.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘I don’t think he loves me.’ I bite my bottom lip and keep staring at the ground. ‘I can’t seem to do anything right. I thought … if I just tried harder, I could make it work … but I
can’t try any harder. I can’t make him happy.’

  ‘I don’t think it’s our job to make other people happy.’

  ‘That’s what wives are supposed to do.’

  He shakes his head. ‘I think it’s more likely that we’re in charge of our own happiness.’

  I shrug my shoulders and let out a huge sigh.

  ‘I made a promise in a church: “till death do us part”. I want to keep that promise.’

  ‘Sometimes promises get broken.’

  ‘My grandmother always said that if I did manage to find a husband, he wouldn’t stay with me long. I hate that she might get to be right.’

  ‘She’s not right. And she’s not here. You don’t need to listen to that voice any more.’

  ‘I don’t know what to do. My thoughts are all over the place.’

  ‘What’s your heart telling you to do?’

  ‘It’s telling me to leave, but it’s the same heart that told me I was in love and I should get married. I’m not sure I trust it.’

  ‘Trust yourself, Emily. You’re the only one who can make this decision, but it’s obvious that you’re not happy. Something needs to change.’

  ‘That’s what Colleen says as well. The bit about me not being happy.’ I sit up straight in my chair. ‘You can’t tell Colleen about this, William, until I work out what to do. She already thinks I’m stupid for marrying him.’

  ‘She won’t think you’re stupid, Emily. She cares about you. There are a lot of people in this village who care about you, Emily.’

  I lean forward, and the clock above his head chimes six.

  ‘God, I’ve got to go.’

  WILLIAM

  I wake with a stiffness in my neck and the now familiar ache in my temple. I close my eyes and take a big breath in and then a long exhalation. I visualise the pain being taken away on the out-breath. I breathe in and out ten more times before opening my eyes again. It seems that there will be no getting away from the pain this morning. The oncologist said that as the tumour grew, it would become more painful and slowly start to affect my mobility. Yesterday, I stumbled twice, and the third time I fell over onto the gravel. I had hoped for a little more time.