So Long At the Fair

by Jess Foley

  She had been sitting there for close on an hour when there came the faint sound of the carriage on the drive. A little while later she heard the front door opening and closing. There were footsteps in the hall, then the drawing-room door opened and Louis, his coat over his arm, looked in. He seemed surprised to see her still up.

  ‘I saw a crack of light under the door,’ he said. ‘I thought the maid had left one of the lamps burning.’

  ‘No,’ Abbie said, ‘I couldn’t sleep so I came back downstairs.’

  He nodded, stood there for a moment, then said, ‘Well – I’m very tired. I’m going to bed. Goodnight now.’

  As he started to back out into the hall Abbie spoke his name. He came to a stop. ‘Yes?’

  ‘Would you like some tea?’ she said. She was very much aware of the awkwardness between them.

  He hesitated for a second, then said, ‘Thank you.’ Closing the door behind him, he put down his coat, crossed to the fireside chair facing her own and sat down.

  ‘Have you eaten anything?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not hungry. The tea will be fine.’

  In the kitchen she made fresh tea and, back in the drawing room, set it down on the small table beside the fire. Glancing at Louis as she straightened she saw that he had fallen asleep. She sat in her own chair and looked at him. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes, a deep crease between his eyebrows, and lines running from the outer edges of his nostrils down beside his slightly open mouth. Hands resting on the chair arm, his fingers twitched spasmodically a couple of times. He looked utterly exhausted. Loath to wake him, she poured herself a cup of tea and sipped at it, watching him. A few moments later he opened his eyes.

  ‘You fell asleep,’ she said. ‘You must be terribly tired.’

  ‘I am, rather.’

  ‘I’ll pour your tea.’ She poured him a cup and passed it to him. He drank from it, then placed it beside him. ‘You were gone so long,’ she said. ‘Did everything go all right at the Tippets’? Was it a boy or a girl?’

  He shook his head then bent forward, putting a hand to his forehead. ‘A boy. But I lost them both – mother and son.’

  ‘Oh, Louis . . .’ When he raised his head she saw the shine of tears in his eyes. ‘Louis,’ she said. ‘Oh, I’m so sorry.’

  He nodded and wiped his eyes. ‘Twenty-three years old and looking as if she’d find childbirth the easiest thing in the world. But nothing went right. She was in so much pain, too. And there was nothing I could do. She struggled for all those hours – and after all that fighting she just . . . slipped away.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve seen my share of death over the years, but there are some things that one just doesn’t seem able to get used to. Her husband, poor man, he’s inconsolable. And there’s nothing to be done.’

  They sat in silence for some while, then he said wearily, ‘You say you couldn’t sleep?’

  ‘Yes, but – also I wanted to talk to you.’

  ‘Oh?’ he said carefully. ‘What about?’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about what you said.’ She shook her head. ‘I got so – tense this afternoon when you tried to talk. That’s the way I am so much of the time lately. And it’s not your fault – and I’m sorry.’ She looked down into her cup. ‘I want what you want, Louis. I’d like things to be better between us – if they can be.’

  ‘They can be,’ he said, ‘if we both want it badly enough.’

  ‘Yes, I know.’ She paused. ‘And as you suggested, I think it would be a good idea for me to go away for a while. I think I’d like to do that. Ollie and I, we could go to the coast for a few weeks. As you said, it will give us – you and me – an opportunity to think things over.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘So – I’ll make arrangements, shall I?’

  ‘Very good.’

  ‘And when I come back I’ll –’

  ‘Please.’ He raised a hand. ‘Don’t make me any promises. Just see how things go. For the moment let’s not ask more than that.’

  Chapter Thirty-One

  The July sun was very warm. Before lunch Abbie, Oliver and Maria had gone bathing in the sea. Now, however, the tide was ebbing, so while Abbie rested in the shade of a large beach umbrella Oliver and Maria – obeying instructions to keep always within Abbie’s sight – had gone exploring further along the beach. Every now and again Abbie would glance up from her book to check on the safety of the pair. After a time she saw them turn and start back along the beach towards her. As they drew nearer Oliver raised his arm and waved. Abbie waved back, observing with an inward groan that he had pulled out the front of his shirt before him and was carrying something in it. More seashells.

  ‘Look, Mama, look!’ Oliver called a minute later as he came across the sand towards her. ‘We found lots more shells.’

  ‘Yes,’ Abbie replied, ‘so I see.’

  As she put her book to one side Oliver knelt beside her and spilled a cascade of shells onto the rug.

  ‘Oh, my! They’re beautiful,’ Abbie said, flicking a little smile at Maria as she sat down nearby.

  ‘They’re for Daddy.’

  ‘But you’ve already got so many for him at the hotel.’

  ‘But he’ll like them,’ Oliver protested.

  ‘Oh, I’m sure he will. He’ll love them.’

  ‘He can’t get any for himself, can he?’

  ‘No – that’s true.’

  ‘I mean, he’s had to stay behind and work.’

  ‘I know. Well, he’s going to be very pleased, I’m sure.’

  Oliver gathered up the shells and put them into an old straw basket. Then, his task finished, he brushed the sand from his hands. ‘Maria and I are thirsty, Mama,’ he said.

  ‘Really? In that case you’d better have some lemonade.’ From a makeshift picnic basket Abbie took a bottle of lemonade and poured some into two beakers, handing one to Oliver and the other to Maria. She watched Oliver as he drank. The vacation, she thought, had been such a good thing. They had been in Weston-super-Mare for over two weeks now, and so far everything had worked out well; the hotel was comfortable and the weather had been good to them, for the most part sunny and warm – a condition that was reflected in their glowing cheeks and tanned limbs. In such fine weather they had been able to come to the beach to bathe and relax nearly every day, and – a thrilling development – under Abbie’s tuition Oliver, after less than a week, had learned to swim. From this point on there had been no holding the child; he wanted to be in the water at every opportunity available.

  When Oliver and Maria had finished the lemonade Abbie replaced the beakers in the basket. Oliver was getting to his feet again. Looking out at the receding waterline he said, ‘I don’t suppose the tide will be back for a long time yet, will it?’

  ‘I’m afraid not, darling. There’ll be no more bathing today.’

  He turned to Maria. ‘Shall we go for another walk, Maria? But the other way this time.’ He pointed off down the beach in the opposite direction.

  Maria looked at Abbie for an answer. Abbie nodded. ‘Yes, but don’t go too far away. And stay within my sight so that I can keep an eye on you.’

  Already Oliver was reaching out for Maria’s hand. ‘Come on, Maria.’

  ‘And keep your hat on,’ Abbie called after him.

  Smiling after them, Abbie lay with her chin on her arm, watching as they wandered along the beach, every now and again stopping to look at something in the sand. Oliver could come to little harm here. Maria was a sensible girl and with the tide going out the beach offered no intrinsic dangers. They couldn’t get lost, either, as they were now familiar with the spot where they had made their little settlement. They had chosen it on the first day – a place relatively secluded and sheltered from the breeze – and had come back to it nearly every day.

  Abbie watched the pair for a minute longer then closed her eyes. From further off she heard the shouts of children playing, from above the crying of gulls, while from behind, beyond the promenade,
came the distant sounds of carriages and horses’ hooves. At her side her book lay forgotten.

  Louis came into her mind – as he had so many times since leaving Frome. She felt that the night he had come in following the death in childbirth of Mrs Tippet and her baby son might well have marked something of a turning point in their lives. While they had not got back to any degree of intimacy, still they had begun to develop once more a little closeness, a little more trust – evident in so many things that passed between them. From then until she and Oliver had left for their vacation they had had ten days together – and as those days had passed Abbie had become more and more aware that perhaps after all they might be able to find some lasting common ground that would enable them to live together in some degree of harmony.

  At this time on a Friday, she reflected, Louis would most likely be out on house calls. She had a sudden picture of him as he had been at the station on the Wednesday morning of their departure. When he had picked Oliver up in his arms to say goodbye the child had clung to him, arms tight around his neck. ‘Daddy,’ he had said, ‘I want you to come with us. Why won’t you come with us?’ And Louis had replied that he had to work, that he could not leave his patients. Later, when the train was in, Abbie had been at the open carriage window, facing Louis as he stood on the platform.

  ‘Now you two have a good time,’ he had said. ‘I know it’ll do you good to have a change of scene.’

  ‘Yes . . .’

  ‘And stay as long as you like.’ He smiled. ‘Within reason.’

  ‘Yes, within reason.’ A pause. ‘I’ll drop you a line in the next day or two. Tell you how we’re getting on.’

  ‘I’ll look forward to hearing. Look after yourselves.’

  ‘We will.’

  The whistle blew and the train began to move, and with Oliver standing waving at her side, Abbie watched until Louis was no longer in sight.

  Since their arrival in the resort Abbie had written to Louis several times, reporting on their pastimes and conveying to him affectionate and newsy messages from Oliver. He had written back expressing happiness at their continuing pleasure.

  Now, lying in the warm air, Abbie thought back over the time of their stay at the resort. Since leaving Frome she had felt almost tangibly the weight of her problems falling away. She had of course found much contentment in Oliver’s happiness, but it went deeper than that. With the passing days she had found a growing sense of peace. Being so far from the scene of recent conflicts, perhaps she was seeing things more clearly, getting them in perspective. And viewed so, the problems seemed somehow less potent than they had been. Most vital of all, they no longer appeared to be insurmountable.

  As far as her life with Louis was concerned, she knew she had either to accept it or reject it. There could be no compromises. She must commit herself to her marriage and all that went with it – or turn her back upon it. And she could not contemplate the latter. For one thing it would mean that she would lose Oliver – which was unthinkable. Louis had made it clear that he wouldn’t give up his son and she couldn’t blame him for that. Besides, Oliver’s life in Frome was a good life. He had love, security and comfort – all that a child could need.

  She sighed. Raising her head, she looked out over the water and saw near the horizon the darker shape of a steamer going by. This time, this place, she reminded herself, did not constitute her reality. They had been here over two weeks and soon she must start to think about returning home – which would mean that choices and decisions had to be made. But in truth, she realized, she did not really have a choice. Whatever her hopes might once have been there were no options available to her now. Arthur could no longer be a part of her life. He had made his commitments – and he could not give them up. There was nothing for it but to accept her present situation and make the best of it. And after all, her situation could, with effort and thought, bring her some happiness. She had a comfortable home and wanted for nothing materially. Even more important, she had a young son whom she adored. Yes, she determined that from now she would make the best of everything as far as she could. Louis was a good man and whatever lack there might be in their relationship she could not in all honesty see that it was due to any fault of his. The lack was in herself; contrary to her expectations, she had simply found it impossible to return his love.

  From some distant place came the sound of a clock striking the hour of three. When Oliver and Maria returned it would be time to start back to the hotel for tea. Afterwards Oliver would sleep for an hour and Abbie could indulge herself in a soothing bath. She stretched on the rug. Her bare feet, outside the umbrella’s shade, were warm in the sun.

  While Abbie lay relaxing, Oliver and Maria, fifty yards along the beach, were attempting to build a sandcastle. They had only their hands as tools, however, and the task was not easy.

  As they worked there came from the promenade a familiar voice:

  ‘Oliver . . .’

  Oliver and Maria turned to the sound and a moment later Oliver was giving a wild yell of delight. ‘Daddy! Daddy!’ At the same time Louis climbed over the rail and jumped from the promenade onto the sand. Moments later he was striding forward and sweeping his son up in his arms. He held him close for a second or two, then set him down and crouched before him.

  ‘Well, look at my little boy! He’s the colour of an Indian!’

  ‘Daddy,’ Oliver said, ‘we didn’t know you were coming.’

  ‘No,’ Louis replied, ‘neither did I until a couple of days ago. Then I decided I had to come and see how you were.’ He gave him another hug. ‘Have you missed me? Or have you been having so much fun that you’ve hardly given me a thought?’ Without waiting for an answer, he turned to Maria, who stood shyly a yard or two away, and asked whether she was having a good time. She replied that she was enjoying herself very much.

  ‘Good.’ He turned back to Oliver. ‘Well – let’s go and find your mother, shall we?’

  Abbie, lying down, heard the excited sound of Oliver’s voice calling to her, and opening her eyes she saw him running across the sand towards her. In the same moment she saw Louis and Maria walking a few yards behind.

  ‘Look, Mama!’ Oliver cried, ‘I’ve got Daddy here! Daddy’s come to see us.’

  As Louis reached her side Abbie sat up, looked up at him and smiled. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘so I see.’

  That evening after Oliver had been put to bed Louis went in to say goodnight. Sitting on a small stool beside the bed he leaned over, looking down into his sleepy eyes.

  ‘You’re a tired little chap, aren’t you?’ he murmured.

  Oliver yawned. ‘Just a little.’

  As Louis adjusted the sheet about his chin, Oliver took hold of his hand. ‘Daddy, did you know that I can swim?’

  ‘Yes, your mama told me. What a clever boy you are.’

  ‘Mama taught me. Now I swim every day. And every day I can swim a little further.’

  ‘That’s wonderful. I’m very proud of you.’

  ‘Maria can’t swim yet. Next year I shall teach her. Can you swim, Daddy?’

  ‘Yes, I can swim. Not well, but a little.’

  ‘Tomorrow we can go swimming together, can’t we?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Ollie, but I’m afraid I’ve got to get back.’

  ‘But haven’t you come to stay with us?’

  ‘Not for long. I have to go back home tomorrow.’

  ‘So soon?’ Oliver gave a little groan.

  ‘I don’t want to go, but there’s nothing for it. My patients have to be looked after.’

  Oliver clicked his tongue. ‘They always do. But you won’t go without seeing me in the morning, will you?’

  ‘Of course not.’ Louis clapped a hand to his forehead in a melodramatic gesture. ‘I’ll forget my head next – I brought you a little present and forgot all about it.’

  Oliver at once became more wakeful. ‘Where is it?’

  ‘In my case in my room. I haven’t unpacked it yet.’

&n
bsp; ‘Oh – can I have it, please?’

  ‘It’s too late now. You go to sleep and you shall have it tomorrow.’

  ‘Oh, can’t I have it now?’

  ‘No, wait till tomorrow, there’s a good boy.’

  ‘What is it? Tell me what it is.’

  ‘Wait and see.’ Louis leaned down and kissed him. ‘Goodnight now, my dear.’

  When he had gone from the room Abbie went in to say her goodnights.

  ‘Daddy brought me a present,’ Oliver said as she bent to him.

  ‘Did he now? And what did he bring you?’

  ‘I don’t know. I haven’t seen it yet.’

  ‘Oh, so you’ve a surprise waiting for you. I love surprises.’

  ‘I do too.’ A wide yawn. ‘Daddy’s going back home tomorrow, Mama. Did you know that?’

  ‘Yes. He can’t spare the time to stay longer.’

  ‘Because of his patients.’

  ‘Yes, because of his patients.’

  A little pause. ‘When are we going home, Mama – you and Maria and I?’

  ‘Well,’ Abbie shrugged, ‘I haven’t decided. Why?’

  ‘I was thinking – can we go back tomorrow with Daddy?’

  ‘Aren’t you enjoying yourself here?’

  ‘Yes, but – I want to go back home. Can we?’

  Abbie paused for a moment before answering, ‘Well – we’ll see.’

  With Maria sharing Oliver’s room and watching over him, Abbie and Louis went downstairs to dine. Abbie was wearing a new gown, which she had bought in the town just the day before. It was of lavender cotton, decorated with bows and pleated frills. With it she wore a fine lace shawl draped over her shoulders.