The Alone Alternative

by Linda MacDonald

  Edward wonders whether she is referring to the time when he was mugged, or to something else. ‘What happened to lover-boy?’

  ‘He lacks ambition. He’s quite content to carry on his parents’ place in exactly the same way as they had been doing. They put pressure on him and he capitulated. And being together full-time hasn’t worked out. His language skills; my language skills. He reverted to Italian much more when we were there. His default setting. We couldn’t communicate at a deeper level.’

  ‘And you didn’t realise this before you went away?’

  ‘Midlife does things to you. Crazy things. I thought once we were there, I would pick up the language more easily. And I did, but it’s not the same. And there was an ex-girlfriend paying him a little too much attention for my liking. Perhaps that’s the real reason.’

  ‘You made it clear you no longer loved me.’

  ‘But you never said that you didn’t love me,’ says Felicity. ‘I pretended you didn’t because it made me feel less guilty. I thought we might try again. I know I haven’t been the wife you wanted for the past ten years, but now my menopause is over and I’ve satisfied my large-scale career ambitions, I can do the restaurant thing on a smaller scale and can refocus my attention on you and the family.’

  ‘I think not,’ says Edward.

  ‘Everything is possible, Ted. Most things are still in place here. All I need is a venue. I could locate in a different village this time. There’s a little place this side of Exeter, near Pinhoe, that’s up for sale. I’ve thought about it carefully and am sure of what I want. I never really stopped caring about you; I was carried away by romance. Gianni flattered me.’

  Edward hesitates. She is the mother of his children. He cares, but he doesn’t care enough. Her sudden departure with Gianni hurt him and insulted him. It was then that any remaining romantic feelings slipped away like baby turtles into a vast blue ocean to make a new life elsewhere. And Marianne is no Gianni; no whim, no unknown quantity. ‘Have you forgotten the last five years we were together? It wasn’t much of a marriage. Had it occurred to you that I may have moved on too?’

  ‘Oh Ted!’ Felicity smiles disarmingly. ‘You take ages to make relationship decisions. If I hadn’t come along when you were at uni, you’d still be sitting in a fusty garret writing archaeology books.’

  Edward is annoyed. ‘I don’t love you any more, Flick. My feelings had been dying for years before you left. I fought to keep them alive as best I could but, in truth, I stopped loving you long before you went off with Gianni. Now I feel nothing that would offer hope.’ He realises this is largely true.

  ‘We are married and I know you have principles.’

  ‘And those principles are telling me to let go.’

  ‘In a few years’ time we’ll probably have grand-kids. Don’t you think it will be a lot less complicated if we are together?’

  ‘Probably, but you should have thought of that before you left us. I don’t want to spend any more of what’s left of my life in a loveless situation, creating a pretence for as-yet theoretical grand-kids. If I don’t start afresh now, it will be too late.’

  ‘Do you have someone in mind, Ted?’ She laughs as if this is an impossibility, then walks past him, back to the house. ‘We’ll talk some more when you’ve recovered from the shock. I can understand why you’re hacked-off, but when you stop and think, you’ll see it makes sense. When you get to our age, practicalities should inform decisions.’

  Edward follows her. ‘You can’t stay. You can’t move back in as if nothing has happened.’

  ‘I already have, more or less. I know my rights.’

  ‘Where have you been sleeping?’

  ‘In our room of course.’

  And before Edward has time to object further, she is marching ahead of him, yet again railroading, steamrollering, whatever you would like to call it, just as she has always done. He will have to stand up to her, but given his lack of success in the past, he isn’t sure what to do.

  ‘You will have to move into Chris’s room,’ he says, following her into the kitchen where Harriet has reappeared to start making supper. ‘Harriet, find some clean bedding for your mother.’ Then he goes upstairs ahead of Felicity and begins ejecting any signs of her from his bedroom, gathering up an armful of clothes and handing them to her as she protests on the landing.

  He says, ‘Very underhand turning up without a word while I was away. Reminds me of when you had the wind turbine installed. I suppose one of the kids told you?’ He picks her nightdress off his bed and flings it at her.

  ‘Rachel mentioned it in passing. I thought it would be easier to talk with me here than over the phone.’

  ‘What else did she tell you?’

  ‘Nothing. Other than she thought if I was going to come home, it would be better not to delay. Why? Is there something I don’t know?’

  ‘Later, Felicity.’ He sweeps the creams and lotions and make-up from the dressing table straight into one of her open cases which he zips and places firmly outside the room.

  She says, ‘You are so over-reacting. You’ll give yourself a heart attack if you carry on like this.’

  ‘For once, Felicity, you need to hear what I’m saying. Our marriage is over.’

  Felicity stands with the pile of clothes in her arms, looking perplexed. ‘I suppose Harriet told you about Meg?’

  ‘She did.’

  ‘I expect you’re shocked and upset. So am I. But you know how poorly she was. We did the best for her but yesterday morning we couldn’t wake her. She’d gone. Slipped away in the night.’ She places the pile of clothes on the landing floor and comes into the room.

  Edward sinks onto his bed and puts his head in his hands. ‘I can’t take it all in.’

  Felicity’s voice softens. ‘I’m sure she would have waited for you if she could. I know she was special to you, and you to her.’ She sits beside him and puts an arm around his shoulder. ‘I loved her too, you know. She was a lovely dog.’

  He doesn’t look up. He cannot give in to Felicity’s play of gentleness. It is an act he no longer trusts and he leaps from her embrace, brushing her aside, heading down the stairs to the kitchen, where Harriet is hanging about looking uncertain with a pile of bed linen.

  ‘What’s happening?’ she says.

  ‘Your mother will not be staying long,’ says Edward. ‘Take that lot upstairs.’

  He wonders if James and Kate are hiding in their room and overheard everything. Too bad if they did. They are both old enough to understand that relationships are rarely straightforward. And Felicity doesn’t even know about Marianne yet. No doubt she will go beserk.

  He heads for the orchard, his mind awash with unsavoury thoughts. He remembers seeing a programme about consciousness a few years earlier during which Professor Susan Greenfield explained that all our different strands of thought were neurones in our brain grouping together in separate ‘parties’, the loudest being the one we attended to at any given moment. This, she said, was consciousness. When we think about something different or change our mind about an issue, it is merely another group of neurones making their presence felt. He remembers being impressed by the analogy. If this is so, he has at least three almost equally loud parties all competing for attention: Felicity, Meg and Marianne. He is overwhelmed. Perhaps his brain will shut down completely.

  Beyond the olive tree is a newly created mound. Poor old Meg, he thinks, hunkering down, running his hand over the roughly replaced sods of grass. He apologises for going away, for leaving her, knowing he had no choice, but guilty that his absence created stress that possibly tipped her over the edge. He closes his eyes, desperate not to lose control lest Felicity thinks she is the cause of his grief. He stays for several minutes before wandering slowly back to the house, his head down.

  He has almost reached the gravel when for the third time in the day his heart jumps. It is a woman with short blonde hair carrying something covered in a checked cloth.

  Jessi
ca.

  ‘I heard you were home,’ she shouts.

  He freezes, wondering in seconds what she is doing loose in the village. Another set of neurones begin to socialise. He assesses the distance between where he is standing and the back door.

  ‘I’ve come to apologise. This is a peace offering,’ says Jessica.

  ‘I don’t want your pies, or your apologies. You killed my dog.’ He moves to side-step her, heading for the house. ‘You – killed – my – dog.’ As he says the words again, the truth sinks in.

  Jessica follows him. ‘Did she die? I didn’t realise. Please hear me,’ she pleads. ‘I’ve had a few problems. I wasn’t very well. I stopped taking my medication. I thought I was okay, that I could do without. I didn’t mean to do so much harm. It was a mistake. I’m very sorry. I’ve been in hospital. I’m better now.’

  ‘I thought you were being held on suspicion of murdering your husband,’ says Edward, walking faster.

  ‘A misunderstanding. I’m on bail. It will be sorted.’

  ‘It won’t be “sorted”,’ says Edward, turning. ‘Whatever did or did not happen with your husband, you still poisoned my dog. The RSPCA is dealing with it.’

  Jessica appears not to hear him. ‘I’ve brought you a cheque to cover the cost of the window.’

  He takes it. ‘And the phone calls to Marianne? I know it was you.’

  ‘Tell her I’m sorry.’

  Edward stares into her bug eyes, wondering why he didn’t notice the hints of madness when first they met. ‘You must leave me alone now, Jessica. Completely alone. I’m sorry you’re ill, but you’ve done too much harm.’

  As he reaches the door, Felicity steps outside and confronts Jessica. ‘You’ve got a nerve turning up here after what you’ve done. Are you mad? Stalking my husband, poisoning Meg … I thought you were a friend of mine.’ She takes a step forward and slaps Jessica hard across the face.

  Jessica gasps and touches her cheek. She looks alarmed. ‘It’s not me he’s seeing. It’s some woman from London called Marianne.’

  Felicity looks first at Jessica and then at Edward. ‘Marianne? Fanclub Marianne? What’s she got to do with anything?’ She pauses for a moment and then begins to nod. ‘Oh, I see. I knew there must be something. Now you’re the one with a secret lover. You didn’t waste much time.’

  ‘Come inside, Felicity,’ says Edward, ushering her into the kitchen. He shuts the back door on Jessica, his mind all over the place, knowing he will have to explain everything, when he would rather have waited until later in the evening.

  ‘So,’ says Felicity, turning on him in the middle of the kitchen. ‘Marianne?’

  ‘I was on my own for nine months. You never gave me any reason to suppose you would be back.’ And he sits down at the table, defeated.

  *

  Meanwhile, Marianne stands looking out of the window of her room at Heath Gardens, drinking a mug of tea and watching a hen strut across the small lawn in front of the house. It is black, with speckled red-brown plumage on its neck and breast. It looks at her quizzically, head on one side, and then marches off towards the perimeter wall and starts pecking under two bright yellow dahlias.

  Across the road and over the hedge there is what looks like a field of onions. And at the top of a slope, on the horizon, the unmistakable shape of the red sandstone sail-less windmill that can be seen from the back of the Deer Orchard. The top part of Felicity’s wind turbine is also in view although the house is out of sight in a dip.

  For a few delightful days, Marianne believed that this village of Broadclyst would hold her future. She imagined upping sticks from Beckenham to live here with Edward among the thatch and the yellow-ochre limewash. She was beginning to get used to the idea that there was an alternative to being alone, but now all their discussions are falling away like the leaves of autumn. Delight has turned to dust. The holiday feeling has evaporated and it seems a lifetime since the conversation on the beach.

  Marry me … After Edward’s indirect proposal, Marianne stared out to sea, watching boats bobbing on the waves and thinking about her response. The old-fashioned advice was to refuse three times. ‘Are you asking?’

  ‘I’m asking.’

  ‘I will.’

  A pushover. She should have resisted at least until they came back to the mainland.

  Panic settles in her soul. She needs her home, her friends and Holly, but she is trapped with nothing but her wild imagination and her fears. She can ‘what if’ until she is exhausted. She knows she shouldn’t. But old conditioning resurfaces under stress.

  What if he’s seduced by her beauty again?

  What if he chooses family familiarity over risk?

  I am not Felicity.

  I am not good enough.

  What if he loves her again?

  This is the old Marianne; the menopausal Marianne; the Marianne subdued by the Cow-Charmaine.

  She has no power. If anyone has rights and power it is Felicity. She might come and shout those rights at Marianne. ‘Leave my husband alone.’ My husband. So possessive.

  ‘He doesn’t belong to you or anyone. He never did. He can make up his own mind now, he owes you nothing.’

  ‘You snake-in-the-grass. Worming your way into his pants because your husband’s dead. You’re nothing but a cheap slut. My Ted won’t give you house room when the lust wears off. Lust! That’s all it is. He’s sex-starved. Been frustrated for years. Poor Ted. My fault, I admit. I hold up my hands. He was so loyal. But I’m back now and I can be a siren too. I’ve learned a few tricks from my Italian lover; I’ve read 50 Shades of Grey. And I know Ted in the trouser department better than you ever will. We’ve had four kids; loads of sex at our prime time. You can never have that.’

  Marianne searches in her case and finds her old journal. She intended to write while on the islands but she couldn’t concentrate. While her emotions are high, she should try to fill some pages with her thoughts. Something positive may come from the pain. Potential novel-writing material. Potential for the sequel to Lydia.

  *

  Later, Edward returns to Heath Gardens to take Marianne for some supper. He is completely exhausted and emotionally drained. She invites him into her room.

  He says, ‘Nothing has changed between us. Please trust me. Felicity wants to come home, but I no longer want to be with her. This is a blip.’

  ‘You’re still married.’

  ‘Only in name. I love you.’

  ‘I want to believe you.’ She sinks onto the bed.

  The question of undoing a marriage, however dysfunctional and no matter what he said to Felicity, goes against the grain. When it was Felicity’s decision, he had no control over the situation. Now he is the one being challenged to loosen the knot, he is troubled. Her softness over Meg had reminded him of times so very long ago when they had been happy. A tiny remnant of something lost had revealed itself. He is trying to ignore it.

  ‘I am so very tired,’ says Edward, falling to his knees in front of Marianne. ‘The last couple of hours have been hell. Not only dealing with Felicity, but Jessica turned up with a pie and told her about you before I had a chance. And Meg died while we were away.’ He lays his head in her lap and clings to her as a child might and she strokes his hair while he breathes her essence and feels her warmth. Since arriving home, he has been trying to keep his emotions in check and now they ooze out of him and into the folds of Marianne’s dress. It is a measure of his trust.

  He stays like this for some time, releasing the preceding hours of tension until his body feels capable of normal functioning. Then he drives them both down to the New Inn where they sit across a table in the restaurant area, barely speaking.

  ‘Don’t shut me out,’ says Marianne. ‘I want to know; I don’t want to guess. You know what I’m like, I’ll imagine all sorts.’

  ‘Remember Tresco and everything we said,’ says Edward. ‘Nothing will change. This is a delay. An inconvenience.’

  But his certainty o
f words is not matched by certainty within. Felicity is a powerful force; a woman who always seems to have her way.

  *

  In the late evening, when Edward and Felicity sit in uncomfortable silence in the living room and James and Kate have gone to visit their friends in Budleigh Salterton, Harriet comes in with a tray on which are mugs of tea and a plate of biscuits. She sits down, eyes her parents, takes a deep breath and launches.

  ‘You know I love you, Mum, but I think you’ve a bloody cheek coming back like this and expecting to move in here as if nothing’s happened. It’s not fair on Dad. Don’t kid yourself that you two are somehow going to sort out your differences. They’re too ingrained. You were leading separate lives long before you ran off with Gianni. Dad needs a chance at happiness now.’

  ‘Aren’t we Miss Hoity-Toity-Holier-than-Thou all of a sudden? Since when did you become the expert on marriage guidance?’ Felicity stiffens in her chair. She takes a biscuit and dunks it in her tea.

  ‘Harriet, this isn’t necessary,’ says Edward.

  ‘Yes it is. You are pussyfooting around, Dad, and you cannot afford to prevaricate when another person’s feelings are at stake.’

  ‘Huh, Marianne, I suppose. What about my feelings?’ says Felicity.

  Harriet ignores the comment. ‘I’m not a child any more. My interests are for both of you separately, not just staying together for the sake of the kids. Mum, you took a chance and blew it. Now it’s Dad’s turn. It’s taken him a while to readjust. He was totally shocked when you left. He may have stopped loving you, but he was resigned to you spending the rest of your lives being miserable together—’

  ‘That’s a horrible thing to say.’

  ‘Harriet, please!’ says Edward. But there is no stopping her.

  ‘I like Marianne. So do James and Kate. Rach will too when she gets to know her. And Chris. She’s good for Dad at this time in his life. And they’ve not been rash or foolish. They’ve waited until now to make a commitment – and now you’ve blown back in and upset everyone.’