Elsewhere in Success

by Iris Lavell

  ‘Herds can be a powerful force all right. What happened with your herd Louisa?’

  ‘It wasn’t big enough or strong enough to protect me, I guess. Or I was too young and stupid to see the danger signs. I got drawn away.’

  ‘I see. What did he do to draw you away?’

  Louisa heard an accusation in the question. ‘Yes I know it’s my own fault, Lucy, but he was very manipulative you know.’

  Lucy looked slightly surprised, but remained unfazed. ‘I didn’t say it was your fault Louisa. I’m just interested in breaking down his ... tactics, if you like.’

  Louisa took a deep breath. ‘Oh, well that’s easy. It’s all about what you’re connected to, isn’t it? Victor made me lose my connections with what was outside our marriage. I lost my connections with everything, my friends. Family. He shrank my world down to just him. And the kids. He even resented the kids a bit. I think I lost touch with other people’s day-to-day reality – the ordinary stuff of being able to catch up with friends and have a bit of a laugh – that sort of thing. Sometimes it’s just easier to give in. Something wouldn’t let me though. I kept fighting to survive.’

  ‘Tell me how you did that. How did you fight to survive?’

  ‘Before I figured out what was what and got out of there, you mean? I guess I tried to survive in the world according to Victor.’

  ‘Okay, that’s interesting. Tell me about that.’

  ‘I suppose I tried to get inside his head, so I’d know what to do. It’s not that I wanted to feel what he was feeling, but I thought I ought to try, so I could understand where he was coming from. So I knew how to keep safe, me and the kids. Only I didn’t really love him, and he was bound to find out, so that was scary, like I was keeping a secret from him. He had a way of seeing every little bit of doubt. You have to be a good ... actor, I suppose. I was scared for the kids too. I had to prove it to him, somehow, that I loved him, so I tried to convince myself that I did. You see? That way I wouldn’t be keeping a secret, because I might be able to actually feel what I said I was feeling. It sounds crazy doesn’t it?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It was awful living like that, walking on eggshells all the time. I didn’t have time to think things through back then. I’d lost the ability. I gave up everything – my power, myself. My children. And a part of me must have thought I would break through to him and find his heart in there somewhere, and then we’d all be all right. Only I never found it. It was as if he didn’t have one.’

  ‘You did survive. That’s the important thing, Louisa. You survived long enough to change your lives.’

  ‘I’m not sure how. In a strange sort of way I felt sorry for him, because he couldn’t have been happy, being what he was, and doing what he did. So that’s a kind of love, isn’t it? It’s hard talking about this. Putting words to this makes it real. It’s hard to think of that person as me, someone who allowed that, with my children there, trying not to hear or see. I did that, didn’t I?’

  ‘Or he did.’

  ‘Yes, I know he can’t get off scot-free. It’s mixed up in my mind, what happened, whose fault it was: my pain and his arousal, pain and sex, pain and passion. I think he liked feeling whatever it was that he was feeling while I suffered. Plus I thought he needed me, but eventually I realised it didn’t really matter to him that it was me. If it hadn’t been me, it would have been someone else. Carole for that matter. No, she would never have put up with that crap. She might have dated him though, in his younger days, if she’d seen him first. He was good-looking, but I hated his looks. He made me sick. And charming – a real charmer. They thought I was the lucky one. Outsiders.’

  She stopped talking then, all of a sudden, felt herself drifting off, almost to sleep.

  Louisa is making more of an effort to walk with Harry. Today they have taken to the beach. He and Buster go ahead, at Buster’s pace, leaving her to walk alone with her thoughts. There is a strong sea breeze, but the sand where she is walking is wet, saving her from the stinging sand higher up the beach. She walks barefoot, just inside the water line, and keeps her head down, watching how Harry and Buster’s footprints are alternately covered and exposed by the rhythmic movement of the sea water. The water washes away the edges, smoothing their prints into impressions, or erasing them completely.

  She looks up to see a single gull hanging above the water, buffeted by the wind. Harry and Buster are far ahead, and increasing the gap. Her eyes fall again to the sand, to her bare feet, to the uneven track she is creating with each step, to thoughts of the session with Lucy when she talked of Victor, and to the early days.

  She sees him dressed up in a tie and suit that he wore with the indifference of someone for whom a suit has always been standard dress. He was from a wealthy family. She must have had something he wanted though: something from her very ordinary background. He stood awkwardly on the threshold of her parents’ modest house, with a bunch of flowers for her mother, a redundant sweetener. He might have been older but her mother was already bowled over by the fact that a handsome law graduate was interested in her younger daughter. Her father was pleased too, she suspects, but didn’t give as much away.

  She was only sixteen, and living at home, commuting to the hospital by train, or being driven by her father. She was amazed that this man, twenty-five and on the way up in life, was apparently interested in her. Later he would tell her he had a fantasy thing for nurses. He seemed nervous too, so she felt more at ease and warmer towards him. He seemed that way. He seemed many things. It was difficult to pick apart what was and what something seemed to be.

  Was she in love? It is hard to remember, but she tries to be honest. She was excited and flattered, but recalls a feeling of reserve. That night she was careful choosing what to wear. Lurking at the back of her mind was fear of encouraging him. She was in too deep already.

  On paper, he looked good – handsome, successful, passionate. He didn’t yet drink excessively, or he hid it well. He’d been to Vietnam, his number came up, but he reckoned he did it easier than some. Later he told her something closer to the truth. He was pissed off by the reception they got when they came home. It didn’t seem fair after what they’d been through.

  He said that in the army, he got into a few habits. They all drank and smoked some weed. When he got back, the government paid for his degree. His folks were happy they didn’t have to fork out yet again, even though they had plenty, and he was glad he didn’t have to go crawling to them. He didn’t talk about the people he killed. He didn’t really talk about the war at all, just his mates. He was twenty-five but he seemed so old to her, and he joked that she looked like a kid to him. She didn’t even look sixteen until she got all dressed up in her lipstick and high heels. Everyone stopped talking and studied them when they walked in together.

  There he was on the doorstep with flowers for her mother. It was the night they went out to dinner with his friends. Not friends exactly. Louisa never saw any of them again after that night, until the day of the wedding.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Harry imagines Carole soaking in a bubble bath, her breasts bouncing like playthings just above the water line, cushioned in the bubbles. Jazz is playing in the background, her eyes are closed and her lips are slightly parted. Her hair is falling down, wet on the ends, pointing like a sign to her nether regions. He walks in fully clothed. He is wearing his khakis from when he was in Nashos, slouch hat, flowers stuck in the end of his rifle. He is feeling fit and strong. He has his sixpack back. He towers above her. She opens her eyes and smiles at him.

  ‘Get in, soldier boy,’ she says. Her voice is husky. He says nothing, being the strong, silent type.

  He leans his rifle against the wall and starts to unlace his boots, but she becomes impatient.

  ‘Don’t make me wait,’ she begs him, but he takes his time. She is moving around under the water. Her eyes are closed again. Her mouth is open. The water slips against her skin. Harry sits on the edge of the bath and rem
oves his boots. She rises out of the bath, and puts her arms around him from behind, unbuttoning his shirt, and loosening his pants.

  ‘Big strong soldier man,’ she says. ‘Give it to me.’

  He stands and his dungarees fall to his ankles. She places her wet hands on his hips and slips them under his smalls, slowly sliding around to the front. His body is as hard as iron. She is rubbing hers wetly against him, kissing him gently all over his back. He turns to embrace her. Her mouth is open, wanting him.

  A car door slams and Buster barks a warning. A few minutes later Louisa edges through the passage carrying half a dozen plastic bags or more.

  ‘Bloody hell, Louisa,’ says Harry. ‘You haven’t gone and bought more clothes, have you?’

  ‘Oh,’ says Louisa. ‘There’s a sale on.’

  ‘It really beats me how you can buy so much in such a short period of time.’

  ‘It’s just one of my many talents,’ says Louisa. ‘Not so long ago you were encouraging me to go out shopping. Don’t you remember?’

  ‘Whatever makes you happy.’

  ‘Fine, then.’

  She is going through an extended shopping phase. Spring has arrived and Louisa needs new clothes.

  ‘I’m trying to reinvent myself,’ she says to Harry. It isn’t working. When she stands in front of the full-length mirror, she is the same.

  ‘I’ve lost my spark,’ she says. ‘I used to have a spark.’ Harry fails to contradict her, so she buys more clothes in an attempt to get it back. Clothes spill from the wardrobe and from the top of her bedside cupboard. The dirty-clothes basket is full, the clean-clothes basket, the dryer and the clothesline are full. In the walk-in robe her clothes are squeezing Harry’s out of existence. Though he has holes in his underpants he refuses to purchase anything for himself. She has noticed that the more she shops, the less he does. She is currently testing this theory.

  Harry doesn’t seem to get the point. He tells her he has considered becoming a cross-dresser to use up some of her excess. But her maxi would be his mini, and he tells her he would not want to look ridiculous in drag. She tells him it sounds as if he has thought about cross-dressing quite a bit. So he does the manly thing to prove that he hasn’t. He throws her new clothes into the washing machine and turns it on the hot cycle, ruining them. He would apparently prefer she spent their money on alcohol. He says that at least alcohol does not take up space for long, and makes both of them feel better before it makes them feel worse. He says bugger it, it doesn’t do any harm. They have no one to worry about but themselves.

  She hasn’t given up on the challenge of trying to appear attractive. She reveals the truth gradually, like someone doing a presentation, shaves her legs and emerges in her new clothes as if she has had them for ages. Harry tells her that he does not find her any more attractive in her new clothes, just neater. ‘That’s a rotten thing to say,’ she says and walks out. ‘Men like women to look nice but it’s supposed to happen magically and without any visible effort,’ she calls out from the kitchen. She could walk around with nothing on. That would show him. Bits everywhere.

  Later Harry apologises in his way. He puts the kettle on and makes her a cup of tea. ‘The blue is nice,’ he says. ‘Blue looks good on you.’ He is not so insensitive that he doesn’t see when she’s feeling hurt.

  It’s different for him when he ventures out. He goes for a reason. She’s at work and he’s home cooking up a stew. Halfway through the process he discovers that they’ve run out of his favourite sauce. More importantly, it’s his special ingredient. He turns off the gas and ducks down to the local shop, but they’ve run out, so he ventures further afield to the Gateway Shopping Centre. The school holidays have started and there are kids everywhere. He soon finds himself distracted, disoriented and wandering. On the second circuit of the complex he finds himself drawn towards a display of fitness equipment attended by a salesman. He makes eye contact and realises it is the young bloke who occasionally parks out the front of their house. The man introduces himself and gives Harry his card. Harry reads it aloud.

  ‘Mason Humble,’ he reads. ‘Manager, Fitness Fundamentals. Mason Humble. That name sounds vaguely familiar.’

  ‘I was named after my father. The footballer. That could be where you’ve heard the name.’

  ‘I guess so.’

  ‘Do you have any equipment yourself?’ Humble asks.

  Harry has allowed his gaze to stop on a set of weights.

  ‘I’m not really in a position to buy anything at the moment,’ he says. ‘But I’d like to get a decent set of weights at some stage. Good for keeping the bones strong. You need to think about these things as you get older.’ Harry laughs loudly to cue him to the appropriate response.

  ‘You’ve got a way to go yet,’ he says.

  ‘I try to keep fit.’

  ‘Yes, that’s good,’ says Humble. ‘And you are lucky today because this set of weights is the last one I have in this line, and it’s been discontinued, so it’s heavily discounted. There’s nothing at all wrong with them but people these days seem to want something a bit more modern looking, so I’ll tell you what. You’re a decent sort of man, I can see that. Make me an offer.’

  ‘Twenty bucks,’ says Harry, being ridiculous.

  ‘Done. They’re worth a lot more, but since you’ve been so nice about me parking under your tree.’ He is smirking as he packages up the gear.

  ‘Oh that’s you?’ says Harry. ‘Well no worries.’

  ‘I like to take a drive at lunchtime but there’s nowhere to park around here. I tell you, mate, it gets so you start to hate the sight of shopping centres after a while. I actually trained as a fitness instructor before I got stuck with this crap.’

  ‘Fair enough.’

  ‘You don’t know of anything going do you?’

  ‘No, sorry, mate.’

  ‘No worries. I ask around. You never know, I might start up my own business.’

  ‘Yeah, fair enough.’

  Later, at home, Harry unpacks the weights and takes them outside to give himself room and fresh air. As he raises and lowers them he imagines he can feel himself getting stronger. He is standing by the bath, fully clothed, pumping iron. Carole rises out of the water like a nymph. The soapy water shines on her naked body.

  ‘Oh, you are my big strong man,’ she says. ‘Big strong cave man.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he says as he watches his biceps bulge and flatten. ‘Oh yes, you can.’

  He is smiling as he turns to find Louisa has arrived home and is standing at the back door watching him. She is holding yet another two shopping bags.

  ‘You’ve bought yourself some weights,’ she says, stating the obvious, in a blatant attempt to legitimise her own purchases.

  ‘Twenty bucks,’ he says.

  ‘Well, just make sure you don’t go hurting yourself,’ she says. ‘I don’t want to have to try and get you out from under those things.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Harry’s laugh plays around in the back room. He is on the phone to someone he likes. He hangs up, emerges from the room and puts the kettle on.

  ‘Want a coffee?’ he asks.

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Guess who that was?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Gordon. They want to catch up for lunch now that it’s warming up.’

  ‘Oh, I didn’t realise he was back. Why didn’t Carole ring?’ she says.

  ‘You women,’ he says. ‘You’re never satisfied.’

  It is a nice day. They take advantage of the sun, move outside, and sit side by side on the garden swing with their coffees. A crow has landed in the big tree in the backyard and is calling out. A willie wagtail chases him off but he comes back before flying off. Under Buddha’s watchful presence, small lizards move across the stone wall and disappear into crevices. Louisa feels a sudden surge of desire for Harry. Life pulses through her somewhat erratically. Her spark comes and goes.

  They are both in a good mood today.
Last night they celebrated as the country voted in a new government. Louisa reflects on humans as primates, not quite as noble as gorillas. A younger silverback has ousted the older one. There is new blood and a sense of renewed hope and optimism in the troupe.

  Buddha’s face is gentle and his smile is genuine. Things will change. Things will stay the same.

  The middle of another week already. Every time the bell sounds at the local primary school, it reminds Harry of the air-raid sirens from the movies he has seen of the London bombings during World War Two.

  The school sirens are more predictable – he’d set his watch, if he could find it. They signal the status of the oval that adjoins the school and mark his day into helpful segments, providing structure and external motivation.

  The siren whines and, shortly afterwards, silence replaces the clamour of high-pitched voices. This promised reprieve from curious eyes through the playground fence is a signal for Harry to put on his ancient sneakers and head down to the reserve. It was marked out for football practice during winter, but more recently the lines for athletics have been refreshed, with measured lanes for running circling the oval.

  Since the promise of a secret meeting with Carole has become more probable, Harry has decided to step up his exercise regime. When he was in Nashos he was so fit that he felt as if he could run forever. The laps were a meditation, and he fell into a rhythm that felt like gliding, the strength of his muscles rendering him almost weightless, his feet barely touching the surface of the ground. He could see how people could get addicted, marathon runners and so forth, running to the point of becoming skeletal, their eyes and cheeks sunken like famine victims, unable to quit until their bodies did. He has never been like that as far as he recalls, but he used to be fit and strong, and he liked the way he felt, as if he could have conquered the world and all the gorgeous women in it.