The Alone Alternative

by Linda MacDonald

  41

  Heaven

  On a bright sunny day under a cloudless blue sky stretching from one horizon to the other, the island of Tresco is another heavenly dreamland in which to escape from the modern world of bustle and noise.

  Edward and Marianne have transferred by boat from St Agnes and are now installed in a one-bedroom cottage which is part of the latest incarnation of the Island Hotel, changed significantly since Edward’s last visit in 2004. The cottages can be rented by the night and are set up for self-catering although visitors may eat if they wish at the new Ruin Beach café by the shore.

  They are in the café having lunch beside tranquil waters. Marianne is looking forward to some quality time away from documentary distractions. Patrick and the film crew have been dispatched to the mainland leaving her and Edward free to explore their new-found intimacy.

  ‘We must use this time to talk about the future,’ says Edward, over open crab sandwiches and salad. ‘I’d like to think we can find a way to spend more time together when we get back home.’

  More time … Marianne agrees but is unsure of how far or how fast he wants to move things forward. She doesn’t want to presume too much despite everything they’ve shared. She knows what men can be like about commitment. Taryn said, and Taryn knows about such things. Of course, Edward, being unusual, may not follow the trend. After all, from what he said, he committed to Felicity without any hesitation. She lobs the ball back to him. ‘What do you suggest?’

  ‘We can wait,’ he says. ‘But if we wait, what do we do? Snatched weekends and uni holidays?’ It is as if he is equally unsure of her reaction; wanting to test the water first.

  ‘It is odd making life-changing plans together so soon,’ says Marianne.

  ‘I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,’ says Edward. ‘I know I would prefer not to waste any more time living our lives as separately as they have been. We are too old to wait.’

  ‘So if we take the plunge, what do you propose?’

  ‘I was wondering if you would consider a merger of a sort.’

  Not the most romantic of suggestions, she thinks. She gives him one of her open-eyed looks, inviting more.

  ‘There are several areas to consider: house, children, money, jobs.’

  ‘This sounds like a business proposal.’

  Edward laughs. ‘The practicalities can’t be ignored. We need to thrash out possibilities, problems and how to overcome them. The most pressing issue is one of accommodation – because that affects everything else. If we stay as we are, then I don’t see how we will find time for each other.’

  ‘Why do you want us to be more together?’ Marianne wants him to add romance, love and even sex to his list.

  ‘Is that not obvious?’ He reaches across the table and touches her arm. Their eyes meet and lock for a few seconds.

  Already Marianne has been surprised at Edward’s ability to be romantic if the right buttons are pushed. But it is as if she has to make it an agenda item on one of his lists and once it is there, he attends to it with the same zealous enthusiasm with which he approaches all his work. He notes the issue, considers how it can best be achieved and then acts. It could be a random hug or a kiss or a compliment, even a small gift – a picked wild flower, the last strawberry. Marianne finds it endearing, even if lacking spontaneity.

  She has also been surprised by his transformation in the bedroom. Once his working day is over and he is given the slightest encouragement, he becomes extraordinarily passionate. Marianne has realised that the years of rejection by Felicity have sapped his confidence in making the first move, so this past week she has exercised her flirting repertoire to flag her interest. Despite being busy and tired, there were several early nights and long and leisurely love-making sessions which left them both feeling that midlife sex has its advantages.

  Edward continues, ‘If I sell half the Deer Orchard to James and Kate, and if you follow through your plan to sell Beechview Close, we could combine resources.’

  ‘We could,’ says Marianne. ‘I’ve been thinking of selling Beechview Close for a while. Too many memories and too big. I could buy a flat. Two bedrooms so there’s somewhere for Holly to stay – and more security if I’m spending time away. It would give us a London base which would be useful as far as our writing projects are concerned; also if your TV work expands. And it means I can keep in touch with my friends.’ She pauses and scans the view of the nearby islands and their fading summer brightness. ‘I’d like to invest some of the proceeds to supplement my pension – because of the years I worked part-time when Holly was young and also recently. Some of the shortfall has been compensated for by Johnny dying while still in service, but with the state of the economy and the cost of food, I would prefer not to be stretched financially. I would be able to put the rest into a property for both of us.’

  ‘If you have your flat and I still keep half of the Deer Orchard, we both have an insurance policy. I’m not suggesting that we need it, but it might persuade you to take the plunge sooner rather than later. There’s no reason why you can’t continue to spend time in London while we set up home in Broadclyst – or wherever.’

  ‘I can’t believe we’re saying this. I’m scared it isn’t real. That you are going to tell me you’ve made a mistake; that it’s too fast.’

  ‘I’m very sure,’ says Edward. ‘I’ve been alone longer than you. Much longer if we’re talking “connection”. And I used to be envious of the closeness you had with Johnny. I’m not sure Flick and I were ever that close after the kids were born. I was always busy. Always working, writing, lecturing. Looking back, it’s easy to see why she was disgruntled. It didn’t matter when the kids were young and occupied all her time but I think she must’ve been lonely sometimes when I was away.’

  They consider the options; the relative merits of Broadclyst and Beckenham; the possibility of somewhere new.

  ‘Since Johnny died, I’ve been bereft on my own. Holly doesn’t visit often enough for it to matter where I am. If James and Kate and Harriet are going to be in Broadclyst, it’s logical for you to be there too.’

  ‘For “us”,’ Edward corrects.

  ‘I’m scared of saying “us” in case it causes a jinx. It’s been a while since things went smoothly. You know I still miss Johnny and that my grieving for him is not over. But it doesn’t mean I care less for you. I care differently, though. Perhaps more “in love” because it’s new. Less old love because less time.’

  ‘Don’t over-analyse,’ says Edward. ‘I know it’s what you do, but don’t worry about what I think. It will take years before you recover from losing Johnny. We’re both damaged from our experiences in different ways. But if we wait until we’re healed, we may be too old to enjoy what we can enjoy now. And I think we can each help the other through the healing process. Best to look forward, not back. I’m happy that you’ve agreed to walk the path with me.’

  ‘That’s a lovely thing to say,’ says Marianne.

  *

  Over the next two days, in between walks and cycle rides, restaurant meals and romantic interludes, they continue to talk about the practicalities of merging their lives.

  Gradually the options are narrowed and Edward can see a future with them setting up a home together in Broadclyst or nearby and Marianne buying a flat in Beckenham, initially for her to live in and for them both to use eventually.

  When he joins her on the second afternoon in the Jacuzzi after a dip in the indoor pool, she says, ‘In among your list of things we need to discuss, have you considered the question of division of labour on the domestic front? I know you are usually too busy to play much of a role, but I don’t want to be a housekeeper just because my new writing career is based in the home. It isn’t my way.’

  ‘We shall have dishwashers in both homes and a cleaner. And if you hate ironing so much, then I promise I will do my own shirts or buy in the services of someone in the village.’

  ‘I remember when Johnny and I decide
d to get married, there wasn’t the same anxiety.’

  ‘Youth and thousands of years of procreation programming,’ says Edward. ‘Felicity more or less arrived without much discussion at all – as far as I can remember. Then a couple of years later she told me we needed to start a family and being married was therefore a wise move.’

  ‘And now these children present an added complication,’ says Marianne.

  ‘Harriet will probably move in with Rick. James and Kate will be fine about us and I’ve no worries about them being happy and successful at whatever they do. Rachel and Holly are the ones with more clear-cut anxieties.’

  ‘That’s probably because they’re not certain about their own futures. I’m hoping something comes of Holly and Will.’

  ‘Some sort of legal document might be necessary to ensure the interests of the children are taken care of should anything happen to either of us.’

  ‘Like a pre-nup. Without the wedding,’ adds Marianne hastily.

  Edward is silent for a while. This was what Rachel had suggested. ‘If anything happens to either of us, we would need to know that we are not going to lose our homes. I know we don’t want to think such things, but it’s better to be safe.’

  ‘So some sort of trust fund could be set up, perhaps?’

  ‘I’ll talk to our solicitor.’ As soon as he says it, he realises he has said our, meaning him and Felicity. Marianne appears not to notice but he must be careful. ‘With your pension, you are self-sufficient. The surplus from your house sale can be invested as you suggested to generate more income or to be used as capital for funding projects like your writing. We are lucky to have options. So many people are trapped in unhappy situations because they can’t afford to escape.’

  After the Jacuzzi and a cycle ride to the Abbey Gardens, after dinner and another walk, they retire to their sumptuous bed.

  ‘I think I am completely sexed out,’ says Edward.

  ‘A hug will be just fine,’ says Marianne.

  Felicity told him the importance of hugs when they were first together. At the time he hadn’t appreciated it but when she distanced herself from him, it was the hugs he missed as much as the sex. Marianne turns away from him and he moulds to her shape through her nightdress. He has ceased to wear his pyjamas, enjoying the direct feel of skin or satin. He holds her close, no need for words. So many months of waiting; so many years of fantasies.

  Now this. And he drifts into an untroubled sleep.

  *

  On the final morning after breakfast, they sit on rocks in a cove facing the island of St Martin’s and the smaller uninhabited island of Teän.

  ‘I’ve had the most amazing time,’ says Marianne. ‘On St Agnes and here. When we return to the real world, that’s when it may be more difficult.’

  It has been years since Edward felt so physically satisfied and emotionally fulfilled and he is satiated in a way that only equates to a distant pre-children memory. On their first night on Tresco, Marianne surprised him with her adventurousness, emerging from the shower with a mischievous expression that he hadn’t seen since the party. It was as if she had metamorphosed into another person and he watched transfixed as she stepped across the floor and began to strip in front of him. First she removed her earrings and necklace, then she asked him to unbutton her dress, a delicious request which no one had ever asked of him before. She let the dress fall at her feet, gazing at him provocatively before joining him in bed in white satin underwear.

  He remembers having a conversation with his Australian friend Glen Rushworth about what women wore in bed. Glen was of the view that the less the better, or a t-shirt at most. ‘So when she takes it off there’s nothing else to get in the way.’ The preference for lace and underwear he viewed as more of a British than Australian peccadillo.

  Now he watches her sitting demurely on her chosen rock, a long skirt hiding her ankles, and he marvels that she is able to transform into a siren in the bedroom. She is a cuttlefish of changing colours and it isn’t something he expected. It is a bonus. Perhaps it was being friends with Taryn for so many years; or perhaps it was Johnny. Either way, he is reaping the benefits.

  ‘Marry me,’ says Edward. ‘Be in no doubt as to where I would like this to go. As soon as I’m divorced, of course.’

  42

  Falling

  ‘Dad, we have a problem,’ says Harriet, as soon as Edward is within speaking distance as she waits by her car in the pick-up area at Exeter airport.

  Marianne detects a meaningful glance and is gripped by anxiety.

  ‘Mum has turned up.’

  ‘What? When?’ says Edward.

  ‘Day before yesterday,’ says Harriet.

  ‘That’s all we need. Trust her, now of all times. I suppose she’s come for the rest of her things?’

  ‘More complicated than that,’ says Harriet, ‘but I’ll leave her to explain. There’s other stuff too.’

  Marianne registers the consternation in Harriet’s voice; the words that are not being spoken are more significant than those that are. They hang in the air with the menace of a hovering buzzard as the luggage is bundled into the car. She says, ‘It probably wouldn’t be wise for me to show up with you.’

  Edward frowns and looks at Harriet. ‘Have you or James told your mother I was away with Marianne?’

  ‘No. I said you were on Scilly. Nothing more. You’ve been so often these past few years, it’s hardly a surprise.’

  Marianne says, ‘I need to find somewhere to stay overnight and I’ll return to London tomorrow.’

  ‘No,’ says Edward.

  ‘It is the only way. You don’t want to be explaining about me in my presence. In any case, if Felicity has things she needs to discuss with you, I would feel awkward.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ says Edward. ‘I can’t apologise enough.’

  ‘How about Heath Gardens B and B?’ says Harriet. ‘It’s nearby and it’s comfortable. They may be able to fit you in short notice at this time of year.’

  ‘Or a hotel in Exeter near the station?’ says Marianne. ‘I can go home first thing without bothering anyone for lifts.’ Already her paradise world is crumbling and she feels sick.

  ‘I would rather have you stay in Broadclyst,’ says Edward. ‘It isn’t right that you should be elsewhere.’

  In the car, he makes a phone call and secures a booking at Heath Gardens. There is an ominous silence as Harriet drives them to Broadclyst and twenty minutes later Marianne is deposited in a traditional yellow-ochre cottage with a thatched roof.

  ‘I’ll be back to take you for a bite to eat when I see what’s what,’ says Edward, kissing her on the cheek.

  After he has left her, she cannot help feeling alone and abandoned, even though it is only a relatively short walk down the nearby lane to the Deer Orchard.

  She sets about unpacking essentials. The room is on the ground floor by the front door. It is lovely and cosy, painted cream, with a plush carpet, a double bed and two chairs either side of a table in front of a window with views over the road to the crop fields beyond. In any other circumstances she would have been very happy to be in such a place.

  *

  When they arrive back at the Deer Orchard, Edward is about to get out of the car when Harriet stops him.

  ‘There’s something else, Dad.’

  She pauses for an instant and Edward knows what’s coming.

  ‘It’s Meg. She died. I’m so sorry. We found her yesterday morning. She was okay the night before. But you knew how she was struggling. There was nothing we could have done.’

  He had a feeling, one of those wispy thoughts that never form into something tangible. A blankness envelopes him and he closes his eyes. He is tired from travelling, stressed by leaving Marianne, thrown into confusion by Felicity’s reappearance and now this, so very sad. His throat hurts with the effort of controlling his emotions.

  ‘What have you done with her?’

  ‘She’s in the orchard beyond the olive tree
. James buried her and we laid some flowers, said a few words.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he says. ‘I’ll take a look shortly, but first I have to face your mother.’

  He takes his bags from the car to the house. In the hallway he sees an alarming number of packing crates and cases.

  ‘Mum’s in the greenhouse with Kate,’ says Harriet, scuttling upstairs to her room.

  There will never be a good time to speak to his estranged wife. He strides across the garden and finds both women examining the pots of winter veg seedlings that Rick is nurturing.

  ‘Ted!’ says Felicity, grinning like a long lost friend and holding out her arms to him.

  She is sun-bronzed to a degree he has never seen and her hair has golden streaks amid a rich brown colour.

  No doubt dyed because of her toy boy, he thinks.

  She wears jeans and a red top with a plunging neckline. Her lips are shiny and her perfume wafts towards him, an evocative reminder of the past. He detects a calculated strategy, no longer so naive where women are concerned. He does not return her greeting and folds his arms when she steps towards him. Kate makes a diplomatic retreat.

  Initial exchanges are hostile.

  ‘Harriet says you’re back,’ says Edward. ‘For how long do you intend to stay?’

  ‘I’ve come back,’ says Felicity, ‘as your wife. We are still married. This is still our house.’ She emphasizes the wife the we and the our; words of connection; of possession. She must know she is on shaky ground, but she was always bold.

  He is taken aback at this unexpected announcement. ‘Only in theory. In real terms we are no longer married and when you left, you said all this was mine. There’s been hardly a word from you in over a year.’

  ‘Things change, Ted. The future is never predictable. You, of all people should know that.’ She absently feels the compost on the tops of the seedlings, checking their moisture levels out of habit.