"So you wouldn't see any problem with it?"
"Penny, you're your own woman. You must do as you please."
"But if you were my husband?"
"Eh,… but,… ah! This is about David. Right. He'd have a fit I suppose."
"Would Sally hit the roof, if you told her you wanted to become a Buddhist?"
"As long as it didn't keep me away from home for more than five minutes, and it didn't cost anything, I don't suppose she'd bother. It would just be another of Phil's silly little distractions."
"Do you get the impression no one is taking either of us seriously?"
"I don't suppose they are Penny, but then I don't really take myself very seriously either."
That was it, she thought. He didn't take himself seriously at all. If he ever found himself wrong about something, she could imagine him shrugging his shoulders and saying "I was wrong!" David on the other hand would have swallowed burning coals rather than admit to the smallest error. But that also meant that if Phil was ever right, and someone disagreed with him, he'd probably just go along with what they said, rather than stick to his guns - or he'd slink away, withdraw his support, rather than say what he thought should be done. That was sweet, and soft, but she could see how vulnerable it made him. If she was his wife, she'd probably exploit that softness in him as well. But was a wife not supposed to be a man's intimate sympathetic friend? Was a husband? Where had she and Phil gone so terribly wrong?
"About the Buddhism then,… you don't think its a bad idea or anything?"
"If it's something you're interested in,… I don't see the harm. It's not really my business to say,… "
"But if you were my friend I'd expect you to say what you thought. So pretend you're my friend."
"Well, if David's very Churchy, that's up to him and others have to respect that side of him. But equally, he should respect the freedom of others to enquire into whatever they choose."
"Hmn,… you're right of course, except for the evangelical thing."
"The what?"
"David sees it as his duty to convert others to his view. It doesn't matter how obnoxious that makes him seem, how bigoted or ignorant. He's doing it for the good of others you see?"
"Saving their souls by destroying their spirit? Sounds a bit egotistical to me Penny, not evangelical. Can't you do it in secret then?"
"How?"
"Research it on the Internet or something. I'd go mad if it wasn't for the Internet these days. And I've had a secret diary on my computer for years that no one knows exists. If that ever fell into the wrong hands, Sally would divorce me for sure!"
"A diary's a good idea. I keep one too, and I trust that others have the good sense not to read it."
"Well, I'd be very careful about trusting the good sense of others, Penny. Good sense goes out of the window when people get upset. And diaries are not the private sanctuary they used to be."
"True, but I've never been one for computers, and David would definitely want to know about it if I developed a sudden interest in them. But thanks anyway."
"It just doesn't seem fair that we have to tiptoe around others at the expense of ourselves."
"I know. Perhaps if we'd both been a bit more honest in the early days, our partners would have had the good sense to steer clear of us."
"You mean it's our fault?"
"We're waking up to the truth of the matter a little late in our lives, I think. And now we're stuck. Anyway,… thanks Phil. And if you'll take some advice from a stupid woman who should know better than to give it, try to take yourself seriously a bit more. I mean even your daftest ideas."
"I wouldn't know how. My kids seem to laugh even at the way I fasten my tie these days. It's hard to take yourself seriously under those circumstances."
"You're serious about Tai Chi though?"
"I suppose I am."
"Then don't give it up." She made as if to leave, but then turned back and this time she laid a gentle hand upon his sleeve. "You're a good man, Phil." She wanted to reassure him, bolster him, build him up a bit. God knows he needed it. Some women didn't know when they'd got it made.
Her sympathy worked for a moment, and he blessed her as the sweetness soaked in through his pores, but his memory of cybering Joranda came back to spit in his eye. He became morose of a sudden, rejecting Penny's sympathy, because he was not worthy of it. So, he was a good man was he? "You wouldn't have said that if you'd seen me with my wedding tackle plugged into my computer the other night."
This one slid by Penny at first and she had to wind things back a little to confirm what she thought he'd said. As for Phil, he was gazing at her in horror that he could have said it in the first place. That was taking the stranger in the mist thing a bit far. And this was not really a stranger any more.
Penny stared at him, trying to read him. Were they friends then? How deep did this go? What did he want from her? What had he just admitted? Did she really want a friend like this?
"Phil?"
He was backing away now, hands raised as if to ward her off. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have said that. It's just been preying on my mind. It just popped out. God I'm an idiot!"
"You mean you,… cybered someone? Is that what they call it?"
"A woman in Australia. I didn't plan to. I didn't go looking for it. I just,… "
"Oh,… Phil, are things that bad between you and Sal?"
He blinked away then, blinked back, what? Were they tears? They should have been somewhere else for this, she thought - somewhere less public, but what could one do? He really was vulnerable and she felt for him, felt the tears welling up inside of her, partly in sympathy for him, partly in desperate sadness at her own impossible situation. She blinked away as well, but at the same time she reached out for him, and they fell into a soft embrace. She felt him patting her shoulders, reassuring her, and she did the same to him. Then she untangled herself and beamed, making light of a most significant moment.
"What was it like?" she asked.
"What? Oh,… disgusting. Disturbing. Maybe it's only for teenagers."
"You really plugged yourself in? And her too?"
"Well, yes - the technology's amazing. I'm assuming it was a woman. I mean you never know do you?"
She was laughing now. It was an infectious thing and he laughed with her. Then all the tortured guilt came out of him and he felt the pressure of it easing. He wasn't crazy. He wasn't a pervert. He was just a desperate guy, doing the best he could.
It was okay!
It was okay!
People were pressing past them and it crossed his mind that in a small town like this any one of them would know someone who knew someone who knew someone who knew Sally or David and might misconstrue what was going on, but he didn't care. He could look anyone squarely in the eye and tell them that Penny Barnes was his friend. And it was up to them if they wanted to think anything more of it.
"That was very naughty! What if Sally had caught you?"
"It would have been more embarrassing than I care to imagine. But she'd probably have found it less offensive than the sight of me doing Tai Chi in the back garden."
She was shaking her head now. He wasn't the kind to sleep around, which was good, but he was certainly ingenious in exploring the alternatives. Men were like that, she supposed. Oh, she was no stranger to a slow hand and a bit of baby oil, but she doubted she could have done it plugged in while some stranger operated an electronic thingamajig or whatever it was by remote control. It was too mechanical. It was void of all emotion. But then men had the additional problem of thinking about it a thousand times a day - well all men except David of course, who never thought about it at all, and when he did she imagined him whipping himself with nettles to purge his impurities. But for other men, real men, what else were they supposed to do when their life-mates lost interest in them? Tie a knot in it?
"Do you want a Buddha, Phil?"
"You mean the garden ornament?"
"You'd be doing me a favour
if you took it. I had to tell David I was looking after it for you, or he would have knocked its head off. Will Sally mind if you took it?"
"As long as I tell her it didn't cost me anything, it should be okay. But are you sure?"
She nodded. "It's time this Buddhist went underground. I'll bring him to Tai Chi on Sunday. And Phil?"
"Yes?"
"Be yourself. We must always be ourselves, mustn't we?"
"Always, Penny."
"And Phil?"
"Yes?"
"I really don't want us to have an affair."
"I don't want an affair either. But I must be honest and tell you that I do want to know you."
"Why would you want to know me?"
"Because knowing you is changing me in ways that make me feel better about myself."
"That's good enough. I feel the same. Friends then. I'll see you on Sunday."
She would see him on Sunday, he thought. They had made their own connection now and no longer needed the intervention of fate, or stupid coincidence, or whatever it was called. All the same, he felt nervous about it. Was this the point where the laughing tide turned and circumstances drew them apart, never to meet again?
Chapter 17
After negotiating entry via the fiasco of the keys, Sally wasted no time in asking why he was so late. She looked more frazzled than usual and complained that Marty had been whining about his homework, following her round like a lost puppy, asking her about quadratic equations.
"Quadratic what? Erm,… well I vaguely remember them,… ."
"But why are you so late?"
He considered lying but he was hopeless at it and didn't see the point anyway. "I went to the sports centre to see if they did Tai Chi lessons,… then,… " Was there any danger in admitting that he knew Penny? Where was the harm? He'd nothing to hide had he? "Well, I met this woman I know and we got chatting. I'm sorry Sal."
Sally seemed to ignore the mention of a mysterious woman. She was curious of course, but not enough to let him know about it. Meanwhile, he was thinking it would do her good to think she might have a bit of competition.
"You could have 'phoned," she said
"Yes,… . I'm sorry."
"Why didn't you?"
Why this? Why that? He didn't know anything, except that he felt a bit lighter that evening, lighter, sure, but growing heavier now by the second. "Eh,.. oh, I never thought." He glanced at his watch. Fifteen minutes. He was on the spot because of fifteen minutes. Next she'd be telling him that was him all over - that he simply never thought!
There were no cooking smells but he didn't dare ask what was for tea because that would really get her going. When it transpired that there was actually nothing for tea, he fought back a twinge of irritation, thinking of something Penny had said. It wasn't that there was nothing for his tea that made him cross. It was simply that he was hungry, and if he'd known there'd be no tea he would have brought something back with him. And if there was no tea, then why was it a problem he was fifteen minutes late anyway?
"Are we erm,… going out?" he asked, thinking it would do them good, thinking Sally might have booked a table at a restaurant or something.
"There's a Soap omnibus on tonight. I didn't want to miss it, so we've already eaten."
"O,… kay,… "
She watched him carefully, and he was aware of her watching him. Aware of her waiting for his next words. "Is everything all right, Sal. I really am sorry about being late."
Was he supposed to pull a face? Did she expect him to be cross that his tea wasn't on the table and waiting? But he'd never been like that. That was just too old fashioned and caveman-like.
"Have we any eggs? I'll do an omelette." Phil wasn't brilliant in the kitchen, but he knew how to make an omelette.
"They're past their sell-by."
"Okay,… I'll nip round to the Co-op and get some more then. And maybe another bottle of whiskey."
"You won't make a mess will you?"
It was starting, he thought. No wonder the acupuncture wasn't working. Doctor Lin's healing needles obviously weren't as sharp or as precisely aimed as Sally's malign ones. "Erm,… okay. Why don't I go to Richies, then?"
Yes, you'd really like that, wouldn't you, he thought she was thinking. And whatever she was thinking, Sally didn't like the idea. "What about Marty's homework?"
"He can come with me."
Marty who had been listening throughout from the sanctuary of his room decided that wasn't a good idea at all, because Uncle Richie was weird and he didn't have a Gamestation. "It's all right I can manage," he called.
Ah, thought Phil. Marty knew well enough how to solve quadratic equations - he just had a whole page of them and couldn't be arsed working every one out for himself.
"Okay Marty. That's fine. I'll see you all later then."
"You're leaving me on my own?"
"But I thought you were watching soaps all night."
What did she want from him? She wasn't interested in being with him any more, but for some reason she still wanted him hanging around. But he didn't want to spend the whole evening wandering listlessly, picking up discarded chocolate wrappers. At least at Richies he could have a good meal, and a crap in peace - oh and a bath as well while he was at it: a lovely long soak without someone outside the door bursting for a wee.
She was missing her soaps. He could see her torn between making it worthwhile his staying, or letting him go. Bid me stay, Sal, but do it nicely. Say you'll turn the telly off and talk tenderly to me.
"Suit yourself," she said.
He didn't feel angry: he felt guilty. "I'll be back before the kids go to bed."
"I'm sure I can manage. Just don't make a noise coming in - I'll probably be in bed."
Richard was listening to the cricket on the radio. Phil had never understood cricket, and wasn't interested in joining him, but Rick said he could make as much mess in the kitchen as he wanted. Phil loved that old stone house. It was like the one they'd been brought up in. There was barely room to swing a cat but they'd always seemed to have more personal space in those days than he ever did now in his detached executive brick-box.
After eating, he ran a bath and sank into it. The silence was like a soft blanket all around him, dull echoes from the tiles and the gentle lapping of the water somehow bringing out the perfect stillness, and for the first time in ages he realised that his ear wasn't ringing quite so much.
Looking at his body it was obvious he wasn't the same lithe and energetic youth he'd once been, but he wasn't knackered either - no beer belly, no man-boobs and he needed only to cup his testicles for a moment to generate a reassuring hardness. All right he wasn't going to be attractive to a teenager, but to a woman of his own age? Surely he wasn't entirely repulsive. Or did older women only need a man for taking out the dustbin, a man for shuffling round the house picking up bits of chocolate wrapper? Sometimes he felt like a dog that had fallen from favour, but was still tethered, doomed to end its days in the,… well,… the dog house.
He had thought about divorce, but couldn't do it to Elspeth and Marty. He had to maintain a pretence for them. He imagined the tearing and the emptiness he would have felt if his folks had split up when he was a kid. They'd not split of course. They'd maintained a companionable togetherness right up to the end, but how happy they'd been was anyone's guess. That had been a private thing between them, not something to be broadcast to the world via the medium of Emmeline Parker.
But otherwise,… yes, it would have made sense. Better to cast things off than work at patching them up, eh? Or did that mean he no longer really loved Sally enough to try. And how much did she love him? She was so cold, so terribly cold - not even a spark of love to light her eyes green with jealousy when he'd told her he'd been talking to a woman - to a woman he knew. Damn it Sally, I still want you - just give me sign that you still want me!
Penny was waiting in her car when he pulled up outside the Robin Hill Centre on Sunday. He felt the urge to park w
ell away from her, but reminded himself they weren't avoiding each other any more.
"It's in the boot," she said. "Would you help me out with him?"
The Buddha was wrapped in an old school sweater against the chill of an Autumn morning. He would perhaps bring a bit of peace to a corner of Phil's little garden he thought, as he lifted him out and deposited him in the boot of his own car. "Can't I give you anything for him, Penny? I mean it was my fault you went out and bought him in the first place and I know they're not cheap."
"Think of him as loan," she said, then noticed his walking gear in the car: the boots and the pack. "Are you going over the moors afterwards?"
"I thought I might. Sally's father's coming round to talk us into making some investments. I need to be out."
"Won't you,… get into trouble for that?"
"I'll say I forgot and swear blind I thought I'd told her. It won't work of course, but Trevor's lectures always put me on edge. Are you going walking afterwards? I mean,… don't get me wrong, that's not an invitation or anything."
"Hmn,… I should be so lucky. My monster in law would probably sue for divorce if I wasn't back in time to cook lunch."
"Your mother in Law?"
"David does whatever she tells him to."
"Ah,.."
Phil had been trying to piece together a more realistic image of Penny's husband, trying to flesh out the stereotype he was building up of him. So he had a domineering mother? That was promising! It was something tangible to define his dislike of the man. He had a mother who would not let him go. Or was it that he did not want her to let him go? What did David need Penny for then? Easy, stupid - to be the mother of his children, or perhaps more precisely the mother of his mother's grandchildren. Penny could not be herself because David was not being himself either. Why could people not just be content to be themselves and leave others alone!
"Phil, if I was a bloke, you'd have no problem inviting me over the moors for a walk would you?"
"Of course not."
"Then what's the problem? Go on invite me."
"Eh?"
"Invite me."
Push Hands Page 11