The Catalyst

by Angela Jardine

  He would even help her find some other accommodation if she needed help, he thought magnanimously. He could see no problem with these arrangements. It would all happen when Sunny was at work so she wouldn’t even know he had gone anywhere. Then if Jenny went berserk, as he suspected she would, he would handle it. He had done it before, he could do it again.

  Despite his preoccupation with these thoughts he gradually became aware of the pattern the light from the studio made as it spilled out of the door and onto the wet farmyard. Noticing the cracks in the concrete formed a pleasing pattern his thoughts returned to his work and he wondered if he should perhaps move towards complete abstraction.

  His mind began to race as it filled pleasantly with ideas. It had been a good day, a productive day, he felt. He had prepared new canvases and sketched some preliminary ideas for a new painting. Yes, he thought with sudden excitement, it has all gone very well today.

  First thing that morning, after Sunny had left for work, he had hung his painting of her in the kitchen, right where everyone would see it when they first walked in. He had completely cleared the wall of all the other paintings so ‘Dancer’ could dominate the room.

  Now the afterglow he got after a full day of successful work enveloped him and he felt a comfortable expansiveness. Soon Sunny would appear and he would watch her drive up the track, then he would wrap his arms around her almost before she could get out of her car.

  He closed his eyes, anticipating the wonderful smell of her, the aliveness of her body held against him and he felt the heat rise in him at the thought of her. He intended tonight to be very special. Tonight he would ask her to marry him. He pictured himself asking her after they had made love in front of the fire just like the first time.

  Sunny meanwhile had left work in her usual hurry, picking up a few things from her cottage as she gave it a cursory look over before heading back to Jimmy’s. She smiled to herself at the now-familiar excitement rising in her as she got nearer to the farm. Everything was just getting better and better, she thought. Even work was good, in a way.

  Edward had allowed her to implement a few of her ideas and she knew even he could see the impact that these had made on the shop takings but he had said nothing to her about the fact and she had tried not to be hurt by his apparent lack of appreciation at her efforts. Regrettably, Edward had again become the only block to her complete enjoyment of her time in the shop.

  She had been frustrated at first by his obvious stepping back into his more formal role as her employer and was disappointed by his unwillingness to communicate with her on any level other than that connected with work. She had become very fond of him and she wished they could have kept the previous easy-going nature of their working relationship.

  Now she was certain that could never happen whilst she was involved with Jimmy. She knew Edward would have liked her to give him up but she simply could not do that, her feelings for Jimmy ran too deep. Love was a fearsome drug to get clean from and she really couldn’t see her life without Jimmy in it. And after all, this ismy relationship, she thought with a touch of exasperation, it has nothing to do with Edward ... or it should have nothing to do with him anyway.

  Even so she could never quite hide from herself the fact that she knew why Edward feared for this relationship. Edward knew Jimmy Fisher and his history and she had to be honest and admit she didn’t. She just had to take everything on trust. So she tried to content herself with trying to work with Edward within the boundaries he had set.

  Now it was the end of the working week and she was desperate to get back to Jimmy and the farm, envisaging a snug Sunday morning watching the rainclouds tumble across the bay as they cuddled up in bed.

  As usual when she thought of Jimmy her thoughts inevitably turned to their physical intimacy. She tried not to see the pictures in her head as they distracted her from driving and the rain seemed to have become much heavier as the night fell. The wind too didn’t help, blowing in strong, fitful gusts that rocked the car, catching it with their full force as she passed the open field gateways on the headland before regaining the shelter of the high hedgerows.

  It was with a feeling of relief that she turned her car into the narrow lane leading to the farm and headed towards its welcoming glow. Watching from the other end of the track Jimmy saw the headlights and rushed to meet her with an umbrella as she pulled up in the yard.

  ‘There you are! Would you believe it, we’ve had a power cut! Bloody typical! A little bit of a blow and pouf ... no electric!’ He grinned at her as he helped her out of the car and holding the struggling umbrella aloft with one hand he pulled her tight against him with the other, inhaling the scent of her and almost lifting her off her feet.

  He had been right, she felt and smelt exactly as he imagined she would. He laughed with delight and with a swift kiss on the top of her head he kicked the car door shut with his foot and dragged her off towards the kitchen. They stepped out of the wildness of the night into the warm kitchen as Jimmy, pretending to wrestle with the umbrella as he folded it, deliberately held it up in front of her to obscure her view.

  The kitchen was lit with candles, candles everywhere, even on the draining board and she laughed as she saw them. Only when the umbrella had been propped next to the door to drip did Sunny become aware of the painting of herself, taking centre stage on the wall opposite the door. She felt a little jolt of shock when she saw it, and it was not just the shock of recognition.

  Jimmy had lit it with two large church candles in tall candlesticks, one on either side. The whole effect was one of reverence as though honouring a religious icon and it made her feel a little uneasy, it looked almost like a shrine. She wanted to tell him the painting looked stunning but she felt some confusion and fumbled for the right words, after all it was a picture of herself. It seemed somehow conceited to keep saying how wonderful it was.

  She wondered too if she should say something about how he had presented it, about the ‘worshipful’ feel, but a swift glance at him told her it was extremely unlikely he had had any such intentions. In his enthusiasm he had just plonked the candles there to light it properly and had liked the symmetry of a candle on either side.

  Relieved by this insight, she found she could ignore his unintentional idolatry and give herself up to enjoying his pride in his gift. Now, as she watched him staring up at it engrossed, she knew he was analysing it, speculating on whether he could have done it better but no outsider would ever suspect this was just some sad-eyed widow to whom he had given the grace and poise of a dancer.

  The more she looked at it the more it seemed to be so much more than just a painting of herself until suddenly the connection was gone and it was simply a painting of a dancer, no longer anything to do with her. Now a little video played in her head and she could clearly imagine its spare grey lines and delicate pink wash on a plain, white wall in some large and expensive minimalist interior.

  She wanted to tell Jimmy of her vision but she hesitated, feeling she was very ignorant about what was considered good art. It was certainly true the painting moved her but was ‘Dancer’ really something special? And what was it to Jimmy? Was it was just another run of the mill sort of painting for him, or was it something more?

  Even now, despite his rapt expression, she kept silent for fear of his ridicule. Jimmy had never let loose that particular talent of his on her yet but she had seen it in action and she didn’t want to take the chance that sometime he might just forget himself and use it on her.

  It had been unnecessary to speak anyway, Jimmy had had his answer in her expression and he now hid his gratified smile under the bustle of getting her jacket off her and making her sit down with a glass of wine. He was utterly determined tonight was going to be a special night. After all, he was Jimmy Fisher and this evening, after having escaped the net of marriage for so long, he was about to walk willingly into the trap and surrender his freedom to screw around forever.

  He had even cooked something still ident
ifiably edible as a prelude to his life-changing question. In his eagerness he topped Sunny’s glass up again even though she had only taken a sip out of it and she was very much aware of his air of only-just-bottled-up excitement. The wide smile he was unable to switch off told her something was very much afoot and although she was unable to stop herself smiling back at him, she wondered what surprise he was about to spring on her ... and whether she would like it.

  He ambled about the kitchen apparently concentrating on preparing food and she got up to help him. They had got into a habit of making their evening meal together but tonight he had started to make it before she came home and now there was nothing for her to do.

  He pushed her gently back onto the sofa in front of the Aga, weighting her down with Brutus to make sure she didn’t move. The cat was an effective anchor, purring ecstatically as she curled her arm around him so he could lean back against it and blink up at her. As the cat relaxed against her she too relaxed, allowing her body to mould itself into the softness of the old feather cushions.

  Outside the rain rapped spasmodically against the door on the seaward side and it felt luxurious to be inside in the comfort of the warm, candlelit kitchen and, she even dared to admit to herself, it felt even better to be part of a loving relationship again. Caressing the cat’s whiskers she was musing on this unexpected turn in her life when Jimmy strode across the kitchen and opened the oven door taking out a large casserole and some baked potatoes.

  ‘Thank God for the Aga, eh? Electricity … who needs it,’ he said, enthusiastically ladling out generous portions of vegetable curry. This was Jimmy’s signature dish and the only thing he could cook without ruining and again she was aware that for some reason Jimmy was trying to make tonight special. Her nervousness returned and she tried not to think what could make him this excited, hoping it was just the hanging of the painting.

  As usual Jimmy ate his food quickly, regaling her with his wry thoughts on life and how it worked, or didn’t work. He was always good company and Sunny found her unease fading in the laughter. The moment they had finished eating he picked up the bottle of wine and, insisting the dishes would be done overnight by the elves, he took her hand and led her through to the parlour. They had not used this room since the night she had posed for him, the first night they had made love.

  Now, as then, the room was lit by candles and warmed by a large fire and they settled themselves down on the rug in front of it, building a wall of cushions around their backs to baffle the draughts that seemed to come from everywhere.

  Lolling against the cushions, drinking wine and speaking only when they felt they needed to brought on a state of peaceful torpor which was further lengthened by long intervals of silent fire-gazing. Slowly, as she allowed the memories of the week’s activities at work to fade, Sunny found she could just let her mind drift. There was a growing recognition that what she was now experiencing might well be contentment.

  Whatever it was she didn’t want it to end and with a spasm of happiness she snuggled further down against Jimmy. Despite the recent associations of this room, at this moment the possibility of sex never entered her head. Strangely this was also true of Jimmy, but for a different reason.

  He lay back against the cushions, repeatedly dipping his outspread fingers through Sunny’s hair to feel its cool silkiness slipping between them, his mind far from the thoughts of the sex he had anticipated all day. Instead, unexpectedly, it was filled with the rather more disappointing emotion of fear. His dizzy dreams of making love in front of the fire and then asking Sunny to marry him had been so swallowed by his fear of rejection that he now felt totally emasculated by it and could only sit in silent confusion trying to reclaim the remnants of his courage.

  Perhaps he should just forget about the marriage bit and just enjoy himself making love to her instead? For once there was no answering surge in his crotch and he felt puzzled, alarmed, even his body was rebelling against him now.

  In the day’s imaginings he had expected this to be an intense and joyous moment. He had anticipated her shining reaction to his question, her gentle covetousness of the beautiful ring he had fortunately been able to pawn a painting for at the secondhand jewellers. Now, after all this preparation, here he was, mute.

  Did he still want to marry her? He thought about it and knew he did. He wanted it more than anything else he had ever wanted in his life. He needed to make her his, to be sure of her. Then say something you sodding idiot, he silently berated himself.

  ‘Sun?’ he paused, wondering where to go next with this. He paused for so long she looked up at him. He wanted to come right out with it and ask her bluntly, but would that be the right way to do it? All of a sudden he wondered belatedly if he would somehow frighten her off. No matter he decided, she had to know what was in his mind. He would just have to deal with whatever situation arose.

  ‘What’s the matter, karadow?’ she whispered, now so aware of some conflict going on within him that she hardly realised she had called him ‘beloved’ in Cornish.

  ‘Sunny, I want you to marry me ... please … please say yes.’ His words came out in a rush of panic as he fumbled frantically under the cushions for the ring box, clumsy with anxiety.

  Chapter 17

  Jimmy opened the ring box with a triumphant flourish to show her his treasure, a large lozenge shaped aquamarine. He had found the sea, simply set in a shimmer of white gold. It was both unusual and exquisite and for a moment she was so mesmerised by its beauty she almost forgot the dismay she felt at his proposal.

  It had taken her totally by surprise, marrying again had never occurred to her and despite that Jimmy Fisher was not what anyone could call traditional husband material. She stared at the ring and Jimmy stared at her. He felt scared. Had he really read panic in her face? Surely he had imagined it? Just at the moment he wasn’t quite sure of anything except that the pounding of his heart had reached some sort of pain threshold.

  Sunny sat transfixed, feeling like a rabbit caught in headlights, trying to quell the sudden urge to get away from him. Suddenly blood was drumming deafeningly in her ears and she had a feeling her throat was closing as she struggled to control the old, familiar symptoms of feeling trapped. She was also very aware that Jimmy had suddenly changed from the smart-mouthed cynic to an unsure and vulnerable man and she desperately wanted to protect him from herself.

  ‘Jimmy ... I ... ’ she stumbled over the words, trying to clear her mind of the fog of panic, trying to think fast. He needed to know she had no intention of marrying again, but she knew she needed to put it to him the right way. He needed to see her refusal was not a rejection of him, only of what he offered.

  But Jimmy had read enough in her face and, thinking he understood, he slipped his arm out from under her and now sat hunched up, hugging his knees, offering her only the curved hardness of his back. She knew her brief hesitation had already hurt his pride and guessed women rarely refused Jimmy Fisher anything. He just did not seem equipped to deal with any rebuff.

  ‘Jimmy, look … this is a beautiful ring ... it takes my breath away just to look at it and I’m very flattered you want to marry me … truly I am … ’ she paused, swallowing nervously, ‘but I really don’t think I can marry again.’

  She knew she could tell him it was too early, they had not been together long enough, they did not know each other well enough but that did not feel true. If she said it was too soon after David’s death she knew he would wait and ask her again later. Now she found she really wanted him to understand how she felt about marriage, she needed him to know that for her marriage was no longer any sort of option.

  It was the truth, her truth, and she owed him that much. It was best she explained now and get it over with and wondered where she would find the courage to do that. No matter, he had to know that for her marriage meant a loss of personal freedom, a subjugation of self to someone else’s way of life and she could not go back to that. She would not let herself recognise she was already c
lose to living someone else’s way of life. She was given no time to explain herself.

  ‘Why the fuck not?’ His outburst was fierce as he scrambled to his feet. ‘I want you ... and I need you to be with me ... forever.’

  She was not quick enough to suppress an involuntary shudder of foreboding at the word ‘forever’. It was a word she usually tried to avoid, it just seemed to invite bad luck. She too got to her feet, feeling she might just need to leave as he glared at her and she felt a slight frisson of fear as she met his eyes, black now with an anger he was no longer prepared to hide.

  He was aware he was frightening her but did not seem to be able to help himself. How could she … how dare she ... thwart him on this? Didn’t she understand how important this was to him, what it had cost him to admit he needed her desperately enough to propose marriage? For fuck’s sake, he was asking her to marry him, why couldn’t the fucking woman just say yes like any normal fucking woman? What was the matter with her?

  She watched him trying to run his fingers through the wild tangle of his hair before giving up in annoyance.

  ‘Don’t you realise I love you, you silly bloody woman!’ he shouted at her, the pent-up anxiety of the day releasing itself in abuse. The tension in the room was palpable but Sunny couldn’t help herself, she just had to laugh at his outburst.

  ‘Thank you, Jimmy … elegantly put ... so romantic,’ she said with amused sarcasm. A part of her knew it was foolish to laugh at him while his mood was so volatile. She knew she was playing with incendiary material but his abuse had now rendered the entire situation farcical to her and she hoped she could deflect his bad temper with humour. She needed him to be reasonable again so she could explain herself.