The Alone Alternative

by Linda MacDonald

  For half an hour or so they talk about their feelings for each other, interspersed with kisses, giggling like teenagers, awkward in the confined space of the two-seater sofa. Edward harks back to the night after the party, dropping hints that he would like to take things further.

  ‘You’ve been very patient since then,’ says Marianne. ‘Since our conversation earlier, I’m a pushover.’

  He takes the hint.

  She is wearing a strappy dress with buttons up the front and a wool cardigan. As she melts into his space he undoes a couple of the buttons and then a third. There’s a lot to be said for buttons and zips.

  When she doesn’t object, he slides his hand beneath. He wishes she would touch him more. She has yet to venture anywhere under his clothes, even the night after the party. He would like her to make explorations.

  As if reading his mind, she undoes a few of his shirt buttons and sneaks her hand inside.

  ‘I thought you might have a hairy chest,’ she says. From the time I saw you in hospital, there were hints.’

  ‘I hope you’re not averse,’ says Edward. ‘I am too old to embrace the trend for waxing.’

  ‘I’m not in the least averse,’ says Marianne, feeling her way around. ‘It’s not excessive. In fact I find it rather sexy. I expect it helps to keep you warm in winter; reduce the need for vests.’

  ‘You do say the funniest things,’ says Edward, kissing her again, moving his mouth onto her neck and then, tentatively at first, her breast.

  She lays her cheek against his hair and makes a contented sound.

  He thinks that it was many years ago when he last felt so accepted by Felicity. And his night with Taryn doesn’t count. It never did. But he doesn’t want to take too many liberties without permission. He moves away, kisses her nose and interlocks his fingers with her own.

  They talk some more about their time together while Johnny was alive, the pain of separation, Marianne’s struggle to open her heart again.

  After some minutes, she says, ‘Shall we continue in bed? The fresh air has made me sleepy.’

  ‘In my bed? Both of us? Together?’

  ‘I think so. I would like to lie with you, if that’s okay. And then, who knows.’

  She goes to clean her teeth and shower while he watches the weather forecast. His attention wavers, anticipation building of what may follow.

  Minutes later, she reappears in the doorway, wrapped in a green towel, her hair piled on top of her head with damp tendrils falling over her face. ‘Finished,’ she says, tiptoeing into the little bedroom, giving him little chance to enjoy the view.

  In the bathroom, under the shower, he lets the water bounce and splash over his hair and body, revelling in its freshness, the scent of the soap, the gathering steam in the air.

  When he emerges, dry and naked, he finds her in bed and slips under the duvet beside her. She turns her back on him and he moulds himself to her shape, enjoying the silky feel of her nightdress against his skin. He places his hand around her waist, wondering if this is all it will be.

  ‘We can carry on where we left off, if you like,’ says Marianne.

  ‘I like,’ says Edward, nuzzling her neck.

  He knew Felicity’s needs, and their lovemaking had followed a similar script for years. Then there was feisty Taryn who led the way like a woman of the night.

  Felicity always told him to start at the top. She said that while most men prefer to have their most erogenous zone targeted as quickly as possible, women prefer the circuitous route – and the more circuitous, the better. Peripheral touching, she said, was the way to open the gates of desire. Although he is perhaps not typical of men, he hopes Marianne is like most women in this respect and he kisses her neck and shoulder before making exploratory caresses of safe areas.

  He traces a line across her back, noting the contours; a flatter shoulder blade than Felicity’s; smoother, less-weathered skin, smaller, but more resilient breasts. He eases a strap gently down to her elbow, releasing softness, playing, stroking. She makes appreciative noises. How good it is to touch again and to know the touch is appreciated.

  ‘You are in great shape,’ he says, meaning it, considering she is fifty-five. He hopes to reassure her.

  ‘Too kind,’ she says. ‘And I could say the same about you.’

  After a while she flips around to face him and he kisses her on the mouth, still unfamiliar, learning a new way as a teenager might. He is out of practice, but then as far as he knows, so is she. She returns the favour, and it is some time before she moves her hand elsewhere and makes him sigh. He can be in no doubt about her intentions.

  ‘So how would you feel about my taking you to Carlisle?’ he says, marvelling at his bravado. Something about the euphemism makes it easier to say.

  ‘And back?’ says Marianne.

  ‘Of course,’ says Edward.

  ‘I feel it might be most delightful, sir,’ says Marianne, coquettishly.

  It is as if she is someone else, confident of her sexuality, of her ability to please. He cannot equate this woman in his bed with the sometimes bashful Marianne.

  The route to and from Carlisle turns out to have many unexpected diversions and when Edward finally sinks back on his pillows, it is with a deeply contented sigh.

  They lie for a while without speaking, her arm across him.

  Eventually she says, ‘I’ve been here before, in dreams.’

  He wonders if she means sleep dreams or fantasies, and if there is a difference, and if it matters. All the years of family angst and wanting the impossible seem to have led him here, to this moment.

  ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve had a night such as this,’ he says. ‘Years. Decades, even. All the more precious because I am older now and know such nights are rare. When I was young I thought it would always be this way. In recent times, I never thought I would feel like this ever again.’

  ‘Nor I,’ says Marianne. ‘That was simply lovely.’

  Her hair is tousled in a way he has never seen before, and she seems vulnerable and childlike, so different from the woman who had brought him to such peaks of pleasure only minutes earlier.

  His heart slows to its normal rhythm and he is suffused with peacefulness, happiness and hope. He kisses her again, says goodnight, believes her to be as contented as he is and turns out the light; a busy day to come, a week of magic dancing in the air.

  40

  Filming

  The television programme is to be called From Scilly to the World. The book will have an added subtitle: An Extrapolation from the History of the Islands to the Growing Global Population Crisis. Yes, it is a mouthful but it is merely an explanation and not something that will be in large enough font to distract.

  With the potential of world TV rights, Edward is already considering the implications on his future and whether it is time to leave the University of Devon for the second time in order to focus on his writing career and – as Marianne suggested – occasional lectures at Stancliffe and elsewhere. It is probable that once the TV programme is ready for airing, there will be marketing opportunities via broadcasting media. If he is tied up at UD, these will be hijacked by Patrick. Edward would very much like to increase his own public profile, not least because any platform will have a knock-on effect on his other book sales and perhaps lead to further work in television.

  Also, if Marianne is going to feature in his future life, greater flexibility will allow more freedom to do things together – especially now she has taken early retirement to concentrate on marketing Lydia and working on the sequel. He has known since lodging at Beechview Close that she is not the archetype of domesticity and he would like to have the time to be more supportive on the home front.

  He has a vision of them writing in separate rooms in some as yet unrealised house, reading each other’s work, offering advice, a frissant in their exchanges, perhaps the occasional sexual indulgence in the afternoon – something that he doesn’t remember doing since before the
children were born.

  The previous night has left him in a state of unparalleled contentment and in the morning, after watching the sleeping Marianne and the unaccustomed stillness of her profile, he rises early and walks to the Nag’s Head and back, all before eight. He is in the process of making a few phone calls when she surfaces.

  ‘I always suspected you were a lark,’ she says, popping her head round the living room door before disappearing into the bathroom.

  When she emerges, he says, ‘How would you fancy a few nights on Tresco at the Island Hotel after we leave here next week? A proper mini-break with no work distractions? They have a vacancy in one of their Sea Garden Cottages – and we can eat at the restaurant or the pub so you – sorry, “we” – don’t have to cook. I’ve checked about moving the flight home and that’s okay too.’

  ‘Extravagant – but it would be fantastic.’

  ‘It will give us a chance to talk about things before I become sucked into the preoccupations at the beginning of term.’

  Things … There is so much to discuss and so little time before she will be back in Beckenham again. This opportunity must not be wasted. The complexities of reorganising a life – two lives – are almost too big to face but they have to start considering the options. He wonders how people have the courage to take midlife risks with others whom they meet via the internet and never in person until one relationship is abandoned in favour of starting again. Such risk-taking which often ends in disaster. He supposes he and Marianne are cautious. He never used to be cautious. He remembers how Felicity blew into his life like a whirlwind and he followed where she led. But in those days the only risk was to himself. There were no children to consider. And there was no property, no security. The difference now is the wealth of accumulated past stacked up on one side of the scales, against uncertainty on the other; the same for both of them. Conversations will help to narrow the odds that Taryn referred to when he met her at Marianne’s.

  *

  Patrick and the film crew turn up at lunchtime on the catamaran Spirit of St Agnes, having docked earlier at St Mary’s on the Scillonian. Edward strolls down to the quay to greet them, their baggage going by trailer across the centre of the island and down to Lowertown Farm.

  There are three additional members of the team. The director is a dumpy woman called Geraldine Plover who reminds Edward of a potato. She is of indeterminate age, with hair and nails that clearly spend time in salons. She doesn’t look the type to enjoy the outdoors. Nick Nightingale, tall and balding, is the cameraman, with an impressive list of credits including several major wildlife documentaries, and Jack McIntyre – ‘JackMac’ – is the sound engineer, also in charge of anything lighting-related and Twitter publicity. Patrick will be leading the presenting – no doubt posing in scenic places as was his wont during his previous TV appearances. Later he will add voice-overs.

  Edward suggests they have lunch at the Turk’s Head before he escorts them round to their accommodation to settle in and have a strategy meeting.

  Geraldine says, ‘I didn’t realise everything would be so far apart. We must have some meals at the farm or we will waste too much time walking back and forth.’

  Edward notices she has a slight lisp. ‘Far? It’s minutes at a brisk pace. Nowhere is far on St Agnes.’ He hopes she isn’t going to be awkward.

  *

  Meanwhile, Marianne has again been left to prepare the evening meal. She is happy to take on a domestic role while they are on St Agnes and even relishes the challenge of sourcing ingredients. Chicken breasts from the shop are always versatile and if she finds some tomatoes, courgettes and potatoes from the trolley outside the farm near the lighthouse, she can put everything in the oven with some red onions and olive oil, Jamie Oliver style. She had the foresight to bring a few sachets of herbs, including oregano.

  All the while she drifts about her business with tranquillity of mind, savouring the night before as a confirmation of everything she had dreamed. She hopes the filming will not get in the way of further such pleasures, but even if it does, with the prospect of extra days in Tresco, she is more content than she has been since Johnny died.

  On the way back from the shop, she meets Pam who tells her that there is gathering excitement on the island now that the film crew has arrived.

  Marianne says, ‘Edward tells me that they will probably interview you about the water situation. And also the way you manage your fruit trees.’

  ‘We were concerned earlier in the year,’ says Pam. ‘We are totally reliant on rainfall here. Our bore hole at the Parsonage has never let us down yet, but during the drought in March we were quite worried. A dry summer and who knows what might have happened. Then the rains came in abundance. Crisis averted. Not that we wanted or needed so much rain.’

  Back at the Parsonage flat, and after an egg sandwich lunch made with wholemeal bread from the St Martin’s bakery, Marianne’s mobile rings. She expects it to be Edward and is surprised to hear Patrick’s voice.

  Mr Lah-di-dah!

  ‘May we borrow you down at the farm? The team would like your input on the education side. See how best we can incorporate the ideas into the film.’

  The film to which he refers is a short piece of about fifteen to twenty minutes, separate from the documentary series and intended to be shown to children and teachers to help to inspire. Different voice-overs will be done for different age groups, posing questions with a range of complexity.

  Patrick Shrubsole is not a person to refuse or delay and Marianne grabs her bag and trots down the stairs.

  Lowertown Farm is further down the hill below the Parsonage, nestling in the dip before the flat plain of the cricket pitch and freshwater pool. In a few minutes she arrives and is shown into a white-painted kitchen with a huge rectangular pine table at which the team has gathered.

  Patrick introduces her as Edward’s friend and the principal author of the education materials. He then takes his seat at the head of the table and Marianne wonders what Geraldine will think of his assuming so much control. She sits down between Edward and Nick, opposite Geraldine and Jack.

  Patrick asks her to outline one or two ideas from the pack that could link directly to Scilly.

  She says, ‘St Agnes is perfect for children to understand about finite resources because it’s a small island. Yes, it has neighbours, but it’s twenty-eight miles from the support of the mainland. A land-based community of similar size wouldn’t have the same impact.’

  She is aware of Edward sitting back, watching her intently. Ever since she met him and discovered his success, she has thought, if Edward can do it, so can I, and it gives her confidence when public speaking. Of course, their temperaments are different, but she is no longer as fazed as she used to be by new situations.

  ‘When Edward and I were at school we had an amazing teacher, Mr Jenks, who created a fictional island of two countries, each with different resources. We pupils were given occupations and cheque books and in English lessons we traded with each other and with the class above us. I was too young to understand fully what was going on, but I remember it well and I believe this basic idea can be used to teach the concept of sustainability.’ She looks at Patrick and he nods encouragingly.

  ‘Primary children could invent their own island having perhaps seen some film footage of St Agnes. The only requirement is that they keep to the small size and limited resources. They could decide what occupations are needed to sustain the community, and this is where the film could inspire by dropping visual hints. For example, the hens in the field down the lane leading to Wingletang Down.’

  Nick Nightingale says, ‘In which case we probably need a montage of scenes showing what individuals in the community do to keep the island running.’

  ‘Exactly,’ says Marianne. ‘And the teacher could represent the person with whom they communicate for trading with a neighbouring island.’

  ‘Or different classes could take on different islands,’ offers Geraldine, ‘
with distinct characteristics so a variety of trade could occur between them. Rather like your experience at school.’

  ‘I’ll add the suggestion to the Primary resources,’ says Marianne. ‘I have proposed that teachers could present the children with problems – like someone wanting to build a new house. So if you can bear this in mind when filming, it would be good. The lack of space makes it easy to see how quickly life could become untenable if properties were allowed to spring up willy-nilly.’

  Marianne then stops talking and answers a few questions.

  ‘I’d like to make use of this sunny afternoon,’ says Patrick. ‘We’ll interview Ted down by the maze. Stunning backdrop of the Bishop, the Western Rocks and round to the Camper Dizzle rocks on Castella Down. I’ll do a couple of pieces by the Nag’s Head and the Punch Bowl. I’d rather like to pan across Wingletang Down; huge area covered in gorse and boulders; useless for cultivation but good for rabbits.’

  Geraldine says, ‘So to summarise: our two main areas of focus are firstly, how does St Agnes self-sustain as far as possible and secondly, how does it create the funds to buy in goods and services it can’t produce itself? This is where the flower farming and the tourism are relevant.’

  ‘I have someone lined up to take aerial shots for us,’ adds Patrick. ‘Best way to show how small the island is; how little land is available for crops and animals. This will be useful for both the documentary and the education piece.’

  Marianne says she will leave them to it and Patrick escorts her to the door.

  ‘That was top drawer,’ he says. ‘You are quite a find. I’m pleased Ted has someone in his life again – but if you want a little more excitement, you have my details.’ He winks. ‘I didn’t know you and Ted were at school together. You don’t look old enough.’

  She ignores the compliment. Such a rogue, she thinks, and takes a circuitous route back to the Parsonage around the cricket pitch and by the pool. She reflects on her delivery of information at the farm and is pleased by the way it flowed, despite her lack of time to prepare. Then past the Turk’s Head and back up the hill, she muses on what she might like to do with Edward when they are alone again that night.