The Alone Alternative

by Linda MacDonald

‘So you’re on your own in a house too. Not that Dad’s exactly on his own yet.’

  Marianne wonders where this is leading. ‘I’m not about to take over your caretaking duties re your dad, if that’s what you’re thinking. He and I hadn’t spoken for a long time, until recently.’

  Harriet blushes. ‘He never told me why you lost touch. I’ve had to make up my own story. Perhaps I romanticised it more than I should.’

  ‘There has never been anything untoward between me and your father.’ Marianne is alarmed lest Felicity should have defected because of suspicion.

  ‘No, no! I wasn’t implying. I know. He’s too principled – and I think he still loved Mum a bit despite everything. But I know he liked you very much and we – that’s Rachel and me – thought you had a crush on him – when you were kids. I deduced emotional involvement of a sort.’

  ‘Harriet, I’m uncomfortable having this conversation with you when I’ve never had it with your father. A lot has happened since he was lodging with us. We’re both changed by our personal tragedies. Both wounded and trying to re-establish our place in the world; find a way forward.’

  ‘Perhaps you could help each other?’

  ‘Perhaps. But it’s too soon. I’m here as a friend; because it’s easier to talk face to face than on the phone or by email or on Twitter. And I wanted to see your home. Your dad thought it would do me good to get away from my surroundings. I haven’t been anywhere since my husband died.’

  When Edward returns with Meg, he announces that after breakfast he is taking Marianne to see Clyston Mill.

  ‘And after, we’ll go up to Killerton. We might have some lunch at the Stables.’

  ‘Fetch me some flour from the shop, please,’ says Harriet.

  More organising! Marianne asks Harriet if she will be joining them on either trip.

  ‘No thanks. Dad banging on about watermills and Killerton – had enough of that when we were kids.’

  ‘It’s always nice to have an expert guide,’ says Marianne. ‘I remember the father of one of my best schoolfriends driving us round Newcastle, back and forth over the Tyne, giving us a history lesson. I appreciated it afterwards.’

  ‘I will remember to be concise and not to “bang on”,’ says Edward.

  After a cooked breakfast, they step outside into a dry but cloudy morning, the temperatures much lower than they were, and more as one might expect in a normal April. Marianne is wearing jeans which she realises are the most suitable attire for dealing with all the walking and the country lanes. She is relieved to see that her deepest fears about Edward’s casual style have not been realised as he too is in jeans, a blue chunky jumper and black windproof jacket.

  Edward shows Marianne around his territory as the male bower bird displays its nest to prospective females: shiny stones, twigs, scavenged oddments from the material world, some coloured leaves. Or specifically: Broadclyst church surrounded on all sides by yew trees standing as sentries, alternate ones with their tops lopped off, and Clyston Mill, accessed down a sloping field at the bottom end of the churchyard.

  Afterwards they head for Killerton House, parking in a large tree-filled area surrounded by a high red-brick wall. They have a light lunch in the Stables café, where Marianne has the best carrot and coriander soup she has ever tasted with a hunk of bread apparently made with flour from the mill. Then they visit the gardens before dropping in at the shop to pick up flour for Harriet. As promised, Edward keeps his local history lessons short and Marianne finds she is the one asking questions, wanting to know more.

  By supper time she is walked-out but contented. It is the first time in over a year that she has been on a day out and not been constantly aware of missing Johnny. All the while Edward has been a perfect gentleman, opening doors, insisting on paying for everything, no attempts to ravish her down a country lane.

  She is slightly disappointed that he didn’t try. Not anything heavy. But something. If he had, she’s not sure how she would have responded. She is still uncertain, still grieving Johnny, still bothered by whisperings of guilt. Yet she wants to feel desirable and desired. How complex the workings of the female heart. She is reminded of Taryn’s comment that she should flap a few feathers. Maybe later.

  She showers, puts on a velour robe and then lies on her bed in the guest room, recharging her batteries before changing for dinner at the Retreat. Edward is out again with Meg. She wonders how he has the energy and drifts into a light doze, waking with a start when he knocks to say they will be leaving in half an hour. He doesn’t come into the room.

  She dresses simply in a patterned frock with a cardigan.

  *

  Later, in the restaurant, Marianne sits opposite Edward and is aware of attracting stares from a family on the other side of the room.

  ‘Friends of Felicity’s,’ says Edward. ‘She knew everyone and there is bound to be curiosity and speculation.’

  ‘And I wonder what you will tell them, should they ask,’ says Marianne, with a twinkle in her eye.

  ‘What is there to tell?’ says Edward, searchingly. ‘A special friend from long ago?’ He looks at her wistfully, giving nothing away.

  During their starters of scallops with bacon and salad, Edward says, ‘Do you think you might marry again one day?’

  Marianne knows she must answer with care. She must remember Taryn’s rules and seem open, but not too eager. ‘If the right man came along, perhaps. But I doubt I would go looking. And I’m not sure about marriage.’

  A silence falls between them. The air dances with unspoken thoughts. They exchange a long and lingering glance, a smile, an intake of breath. Then the moment passes and they resume eating and discussing book marketing strategies.

  During the main course Marianne says, ‘Please don’t feel you have to entertain me all the time or show me everything that Broadclyst has to offer. I’ve brought a novel. I’m happy reading or even helping in the garden if you have work to be done.’

  Edward looks relieved. ‘I could do with catching up on emails, and tomorrow we must talk through your ideas for Patrick.’

  *

  Next morning, Edward comes in from his early morning walk with Meg, eagerly anticipating the day. In his head he is twenty-two again, when romance first entered his life with Felicity; when he was temporarily distracted from archaeology and discovered a new challenging adventure involving trying to understand a woman and the mental and physical pleasures this could bring. He had never transgressed in the physical sense before or since the Taryn incident and even the contemplation of embarking on a similar path with Marianne, although exciting, is causing him moments of trepidation, not least because he is unsure how to proceed.

  He is acutely conscious of Marianne’s vulnerability, of her deep attachment to Johnny and uncertainty about the future. He has had much more time to become emotionally detached from Felicity whereas Marianne’s love for Johnny will never die. Even if he knew what to do, he doesn’t want to push too much or too soon. He thinks he wants to take things further; he hopes she wants what he wants; he wishes she might give him signals and that he will notice if and when she does.

  Marianne is waiting for him at the breakfast bar, drinking tea and reading her book.

  ‘I slept in,’ she says. ‘All this fresh air and exercise. I’m not as fit as I was.’

  He registers a white bra strap peeping out from the loose neckline of the top she is wearing.

  ‘I’ve had breakfast,’ she says. ‘Harriet’s looking after me very well.’

  Edward prepares cereal for himself and sits opposite her.

  ‘You’ve hardly changed in the last five years,’ she says.

  ‘Nor you,’ he says, meaning it, because underneath the tiredness and strain he can still find the vibrant woman from ten years ago.

  ‘I wasn’t looking for compliments – I know I’m not as I was.’

  ‘You look fine to me,’ he says.

  ‘That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me for suc
h a long time.’

  He knows she means since Johnny died and he reaches for her hand across the worktop. Their eyes meet and he gives her hand a squeeze, remembering the last time he did the same, a few months after starting to lodge with them. It is one of those movie-moments when time really does stand still.

  Before either of them can wonder what might happen next, they are interrupted by Harriet, coming through the back door with a carrier bag. Edward hurriedly releases Marianne’s hand.

  ‘Met the Coven in the shop,’ says Harriet, unpacking a few groceries.

  ‘The Coven,’ explains Edward, ‘is two women who lunch: a friend of Flick’s, whose ghastly pots are in the kiln, and another Broadclyst women with a husband who fell down the stairs and died.’

  ‘How sad,’ says Marianne.

  ‘I think he was pushed,’ says Harriet.

  Edward gives her a warning glance of the type he used to give her when she was a child.

  ‘And they fancy Dad something rotten,’ adds Harriet. ‘Especially now Mum’s left, and especially Jessica who Dad made the mistake of taking out.’

  ‘So you keep saying,’ says Edward.

  ‘Taking out?’ says Marianne.

  ‘It wasn’t like that at all,’ says Edward. ‘We merely had dinner together because she wanted my advice.’ He notices Marianne frown and sit back in her chair.

  ‘Taking out,’ says Harriet. She always was provocative.

  ‘It was only when I went out with her and saw how she reacted, that I could be sure she had ulterior motives.’

  ‘So naive,’ says Harriet.

  ‘Typical man,’ says Marianne. ‘They don’t seem to recognise when a woman is interested.’

  Edward wonders about the layers of meaning that might be identified in this comment if he were to subject it to analysis.

  ‘So your turning up has put the cat among the pigeons – so to speak,’ says Harriet, grinning at Marianne. ‘Olivia asked who you are. Said she’d seen you out driving a couple of times and that you had been spotted in the Retreat and the New Inn. Nosy cow probably following Dad’s every move.’

  ‘And what did you say?’ says Edward, suddenly alarmed.

  ‘I told them you were Dad’s new girlfriend,’ says Harriet, with a glint in her eye.

  ‘You did what?’ Edward flushes ever so slightly. He turns to Marianne. ‘I apologise for my daughter.’

  Harriet says, ‘They’re so smug and self-satisfied. Jessica always gives the impression that you’re both an item in waiting. She’s convinced you’re interested in her because of that date.’

  ‘It was nothing. There was nothing to tell. It wasn’t a proper date,’ says Edward. ‘She asked me to meet to discuss a planning issue.’

  ‘It was a date.’

  ‘She wants a wind turbine.’

  ‘It was a date,’ says Harriet. ‘You’ve been out of the game for too long, Dad. You’re not safe let loose. Anyway, this should get her off your case.’

  ‘How old?’ asks Marianne.

  ‘Mid forties, I should think,’ says Edward. ‘But I’m not good on women’s ages.’ He thinks he detects a sigh from Marianne; a resigned expression. ‘She’s invited me to a party at the end of April. I’ve already said I’d go. Harriet says I’m sending the wrong signals.’ He looks at Marianne for support.

  ‘I’m afraid so,’ says Marianne.

  ‘If I said no, she would think I was being antisocial. I do need to get out of the house. I’m not a recluse.’

  ‘She’ll be all over you,’ says Harriet. ‘A few glasses of wine and who knows what—’

  Edwards remembers the wine and the ‘who knows what’ with Taryn. Before then, he trusted himself. ‘So what do you suggest?’ Again, he looks to Marianne for help. ‘I’m not interested in her, but I don’t want to cut myself off from the village. The community is important, especially now.’

  ‘You could make your position clear,’ says Marianne.

  ‘I thought I had. I keep dropping hints. Being too blunt can be hurtful. And I do feel sorry for her since her husband died.’ As soon as he said it, he hoped Marianne wouldn’t think this also applied to her.

  ‘Her husband used to beat her up, so Mum used to say.’

  ‘Harriet! That’s enough!’

  ‘Why not invite Marianne to stay again? Take her with you to the party as a foil. You’d love to go, wouldn’t you? And a perfect opportunity to pretend you’re going out together. Make it look a bit more permanent. That way, Jessica saves face.’

  ‘I doubt Marianne would wish to be put in such a position.’ Edward’s mind is already somersaulting at the implications.

  There is a pause during which glances are exchanged by all three.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know,’ says Marianne.

  ‘It would mean coming back for another weekend in two weeks’ time.’

  ‘If you’re happy to have me, it might be rather fun. It’s been a long time since I was involved in theatricals. It would be like The Rivals all over again. Lydia and Lucy reprised.’

  ‘Sorted,’ says Harriet.

  ‘I’m not wearing a frock,’ says Edward, joining in, beginning to see the potential.

  17

  Lessons in Taryn, Part 2

  Back in Beckenham, Marianne is all over the place with anticipation of what might befall at the party. Here is an opportunity to move things on to a different level if they both want it.

  They may both test the water.

  She knows that he broke contact with her because of his feelings. He has told her as much and she has no reason to doubt him. But that was then and this is now. It was five years ago. They are older now; she is older now; and it is one thing having feelings that can’t be acted on and quite another to be able to give them free rein. Yet his attentiveness during her visit might give reason for hope but for the fact that decorum was maintained throughout.

  Edward wouldn’t have asked her to stay again if he didn’t still like her. Like … She contemplates the word, repeating it to herself, wondering if it is enough to sustain a more intimate relationship at this time of life.

  Like: prefer, choose or wish; to be fond of. She hates that word: fond. Like pond: a small watery expanse for fowl and fish. Insignificant compared with a lake and generally unworthy of mapping. She wants to be loved to madness like Hardy’s Eustacia Vye. A lake of love, not a fond pond.

  Her pulse quickens at the memory of him at Beechview Close all those years ago. He had become one of the family, no real threat to her and Johnny because they were as solid as they ever had been. But she had quietly and privately loved Edward just a little, never allowing it to get out of hand, blocking all sexual thoughts. It hadn’t been difficult at the time but now, a year since she had felt the touch of a man, the kiss of a man, the soft-focus eyes of desire, the urgent power …

  Now she is carried away, and then some. She is hot and flustered.

  Practicalities. What will she wear? Harriet said a little black dress. Taryn said if she’s going down the black route, she must slap on the make-up. Black is less forgiving when over fifty, but not so much of a problem at night. Taryn said with a little black dress and made up to the tens, she might blow him away like Julia Robert’s Vivien did with the Edward in Pretty Woman.

  ‘I forgot he was called Edward,’ said Marianne. This was on the phone, soon after she returned when she was bursting to tell someone and in need of reassurance, affirmation and advice.

  ‘Is there a stool you can sit on to create the same effect?’ said Taryn.

  ‘In the kitchen. What’s weird is that in all the time he stayed with us, I don’t think he ever saw me properly dressed up for a night out. It was always midweek, you see.’

  ‘All the more impact,’ said Taryn.

  And then there is Jessica; a ten years younger Jessica. Harriet said he took her on a date. He denied it. Whom does she believe? Perhaps he was interested in Jessica until he took her out. Doubts flicker, a twinge of jealousy reminisce
nt of the time when Charmaine, the Cow-Charmaine, befriended Johnny. She doesn’t want to go there again – too old for that. He may not be enamoured by Jessica, but there will be others who may catch his eye; younger others who will be attracted by his status and financial security. If younger is what Edward wants, then there is nothing she can do except retreat again, get over him again. She knows how to do it. Six months and the worst of the pain will pass. Twelve months and she will be able to move on.

  And so far this is just pretend romance. The real thing might never be; might never come to pass. Perhaps all he wants is a decoy from the witch.

  She makes a noise like a duck and laughs at herself. She thought the mad-woman phase was lost and gone with the passing of menopause, the settling of the hormones to a new, less excitable level. Clearly not. The sleeping dragon of passion has raised itself from the floor of the cave.

  She invites Taryn for a home-cooked Chinese meal.

  Over sweet and sour chicken, prawn fried rice and beef in oyster sauce, Marianne says, ‘It’s very difficult starting an intimate relationship from two hundred miles away.’

  ‘Time is of the essence,’ says Taryn. ‘With the witches of Broadclyst circling and flexing their claws, you must leave him in no doubt about the best pursuit option. This party is your chance, and Harriet has given you the excuse. You must make everyone believe that you’re the chosen one, not this Jessica. And then there’s afterwards.’

  ‘I was worrying about afterwards,’ says Marianne. ‘It could be awkward.’

  ‘Afterwards, you must seduce him,’ says Taryn. ‘While the alcohol is coursing through his veins, and while his sexuality has been awoken, you must carry it through to the bedroom.’

  ‘Won’t that seem a little forward? Especially after everything you’ve said. Doesn’t that break all your rules?’

  ‘When you live two hundred miles away, you have to remember about boats and not missing them. You go back to the rules afterwards.’

  ‘He doesn’t drink more than a glass or two of wine these days. He told me. Since that time he was attacked, he said he likes to keep his wits about him.’