‘Look at that!’ Caroline was still agog, staring at a jet-black hairpiece hanging outside a little knickknack shop. ‘Is that real hair?’
‘Yes, they have them all over the place,’ Féile remarked as the owner, a small dark-skinned man, came rushing up to them rubbing his hands.
‘You like? You like? You want to buy; very good price I give you.’
‘Just looking,’ Caroline smiled.
‘Real hair; you feel; real hair.’ He took Caroline’s hand and rubbed it along the hairpiece.
‘No I don’t want to buy, thank you,’ Caroline said politely.
‘Very, very good price!’
‘Have you got one this colour?’ Féile interrupted, pointing to her blonde tresses.
The man glared at her. ‘No.’
Féile gave an eloquent shrug and moved off. Caroline followed. ‘You brat,’ she laughed.
‘It’s the only way,’ grinned Féile. ‘I can see I’m going to have to take you in hand or else you’ll be buying everything you’re offered.’
In the end, after a really enjoyable evening, Caroline went away with fresh-roasted ground coffee which had been flavoured with cardamom and saffron. She also bought some bhar, an Arabic mixed spice, and some sticks of incense and a piece of sandalwood, which she sniffed the whole way home in the taxi.
It had been a day of personal triumph for her and she fell asleep full of plans for further explorations of the souk and looking forward immensely to a trip on a dhow, to which she had been invited by Féile and her flatmate Ger.
‘Richard, it’s wonderful! I’m having a ball. I love the job, I’ve made friends. Listen: I went on a dhow trip last week and it was fantastic! We just sailed off to a little island and dropped anchor. We swam and had a big barbecue and a sing-song afterwards. And next weekend I’m going up to Dubai to do some shopping. I’ve even started to play badminton.’ Caroline’s voice came floating down the phone and despite the distance of many miles and the static and the pauses caused by the time-gap, it was impossible to miss her enthusiasm.
Richard couldn’t believe that the laughing, outgoing, fun-loving person at the other end of the phone was his gentle, self-effacing wife. But had he not made her life a misery because of the way he had treated her? He had made her question her own womanliness, her sense of self. Listening to her at the other end of the phone helped ease the burden of guilt he carried from the marriage.
‘How is Charles, Richard?’
‘He’s here, Caroline. I have you on speaker, so he’s been hearing about all your exciting times, too.’ Richard smiled at the gaunt man sitting opposite him at the kitchen table.
‘Caroline, I’m fine, Richard is taking great care of me and my brother is making sure I have no pain. It’s snowing here in Boston at the minute. It’s like a scene from The Snowman. I’m sitting beside a roaring fire, looking out the window, while Richard is making a fish chowder for lunch. What more could a body ask?’
‘Well, I’m just getting ready for bed. It’s very balmy, the sky is clear and the stars seem very near tonight.’ Caroline had to laugh, amused at the complete contrast of time and weather between Boston and Abu Dhabi.
They talked a while longer and then Richard confirmed that he would phone the following week, as they took turns to make the weekly call. As the chowder simmered gently on the stove, Richard poured a glass of wine for himself and Charles and sat down at the table with him.
‘I can’t get over Caroline. Can you?’ he asked his companion.
Charles took a sip of the Bordeaux, savouring its full fruity flavour.
‘I’ll admit I was a bit concerned when she told us she was taking off for Abu Dhabi to work. Caroline is so unworldly. I was worried about how she would cope on her own in a strange city and in a different culture.’ He looked Richard straight in the eye. ‘To be honest, I was afraid she’d go back on the bottle. Caroline always needed a crutch. Isn’t it wonderful that the need is gone and she’s doing so well on her own?’
‘I’m really pleased. I made such a mess of her life that I never thought she’d get over it, but she has, hasn’t she, Charles?’ Richard needed the affirmation.
‘Richard, you’ve got to stop looking back. Forget the past unless it’s happy and look forward. You’ve got to put the guilt aside. What’s done is done but you can make amends to Caroline by always being there when she needs you. Believe me: knowing there is someone you can turn to, whatever the circumstances, is one of life’s greatest blessings.’
The older man spoke earnestly, leaning over and taking Richard’s hand in his own. ‘If you do for Caroline what you’ve done for me . . .’ He leaned back in his chair and sighed contentedly. ‘In a strange way, you know, I think everything is really working out for the best. Caroline is living the life she missed as a teenager and young girl; she’s doing all the things she never had a chance to do before she married you, when she was looking after the family home. You and I have this lovely time here, with no-one to bother us. Here it doesn’t matter that we’re gay and we don’t have to look over our shoulders or worry about our legal reputations. I’m very happy here, Richard, despite the cancer and everything. I’ve never known such peace. I love our little house, I love our walks, I love going shopping. I love just sitting here in the kitchen with you looking out at the blizzards. This is a rich, rewarding time for me, I want it to be the same for you. I want you to have this time to look back on and say it was one of the best times of your life. Do you think you’ll be able to say that, Richard?’
Richard went over and embraced his lover. ‘I’ll be able to say that, Charles, without reservations. We’re going to have such good times. It’s great we’ve got the pool and we’ll be able to do barbecues ourselves again. Caroline’s not the only one who’s going to live it up,’ he said lightly, kissing Charles on top of his head before going over to give his chowder a stir and sprinkle in some seasoning.
‘That sounds lovely,’ Charles agreed. ‘Hurry up with that chowder: it smells divine.’ Richard buttered several slices of fresh brown bread and dished out the chowder, making sure to keep the portions small. He knew Charles would only manage a few mouthfuls; his appetite was getting smaller and smaller, despite Richard’s best efforts.
‘Get that inside you.’ He placed the steaming dish in front of Charles, and then threw a couple of logs on the fire. ‘When you’ve had your nap, we can finish that bugger of a jigsaw.’
‘Oh, it’s a bugger all right,’ Charles agreed, catching Richard’s eye. They laughed together, as the flames roared up the chimney, illuminating the kitchen with a warm orange-and-yellow glow, as the sky darkened outside and the wind howled and great flurries of snow whitened the window panes.
Warm and contented, Richard and Charles ate their chowder in companionable silence, while across the world, Caroline battled through the first wave of loneliness and homesickness to hit her since her arrival in Abu Dhabi. Richard and Charles had seemed so happy together and the picture Charles had painted of the blizzard outside and them inside with the roaring fire had left her longing to be part of it. She missed them both. It was most unlikely that she would ever see Charles alive again. The previous time she had talked to Richard, Charles had been asleep and her husband confided that the older man was deteriorating slowly.
They seemed so far away; home was so far away. She missed Devlin and Maggie badly. She had had letters from both of them in the previous week, giving her all the news. Caroline tried to resurrect her earlier bubbly humour. She remembered Nell’s solution to homesickness and decided that tomorrow, her day off, she would go to the beach. Even in the few weeks she’d been here, she had noticed a dropping in the temperatures. She might as well make the most of the warm weather while it lasted. It was starting to get much cooler at night. She was actually sleeping under the duvet. Or maybe it was just that she had finally become acclimatized. The thought cheered her up slightly and she picked up the book Féile had given her as a present. It was called
Mother without a Mask and it was all about the women in an Abu Dhabi family and all their traditions and culture. Compared to her own world it was like something out of the Arabian Nights. Passing the palaces of the sheikhs and sheikhas now, having read over half the book, Caroline felt that much more familiar with their denizens’ private and hidden world. As she read of the Sheikha and the Youngest Son and the Second Son and the Sheikha Grandmother and Um Hamed and her beautiful daughter Shamza, Caroline’s homesickness faded and she snuggled down in her bed, knowing she could read as long as she liked. She didn’t need to be up at the crack of dawn. Tomorrow would be spent on the beach.
Thirty-Three
There was a howling gale and it was lashing rain. It had been a very cold night and Caroline thought grumpily as she scraped the burnt bit off her toast that if she’d wanted this weather she could have stayed at home. The weather had been bad for the previous week and in the Gulf News that morning there was actually an article about the weather, giving advice to the residents of Abu Dhabi about how to cope. A doctor in the emergency department of the central hospital was advising people to take Vitamin C and wear clothes that were suitable for the weather. Caroline had seen people wrapped up as if for the Arctic. Fifty-eight degrees wasn’t that cold, she reflected, but she supposed that for the residents of the Emirates, this kind of weather, which wouldn’t have aroused comment at home, was extraordinary.
Devlin had phoned a few days before and filled her in on all the news – and weather – from Ireland. She told Caroline that Maggie and Terry were having rough times between them and that she couldn’t see the marriage surviving. Then she had mentioned that some journalist had been giving her a hard time. All in all Devlin had sounded terribly cheesed off.
Her call had left Caroline vaguely depressed. Now she was here a little over two months, and the euphoria of her first couple of weeks had worn off. Although she was enjoying herself very much she supposed she couldn’t expect to be in great humour all the time. The uncertainties over the Gulf didn’t help. Bill had gone to Oman for the week.
The traffic was brutal, which did not improve her mood, especially as Filomena gave a superior sniff and glanced at her watch when Caroline arrived ten minutes late for work. Relations had not improved between her and the other woman, as Caroline had become more accustomed to the job and had needed to rely less on the younger woman for information. Well, today, Caroline decided, she was in no humour for Miss Filomena and her carry-on. There were two large cheques to be lodged. She’d give them to Filomena right away. That would get her out of her hair for a half-hour or so while she and Maria got through typing several bulky contracts that had been on her in-tray for the last week. She was asking Maria to do them with her because she was a far better typist than her workmate and was extremely careful and accurate. Nothing could be Tipp-ex-ed out on a legal contract and Filomena never seemed to be able to type a document without resorting to the magic white bottle. Caroline filled out all the necessary forms and took the cheques over to Filomena’s desk. The sloe-eyed Filipino girl raised her head from what looked like a personal letter.
‘Yes?’ she said insolently.
‘I’d like you to take these to the bank now please, Filomena,’ Caroline said politely, handing her the envelopes containing the cheques.
‘Oh that’s Maria’s job,’ Filomena drawled, handing them back.
‘Maria and I are going to be up to our eyes with those contracts and as you seem to have nothing to do at the moment but write personal letters, I’d like you to go to the bank,’ Caroline said firmly.
‘I’m the senior typist: I should be doing the contracts,’ said Filomena defiantly.
They stared at each other, and Caroline felt her insides quiver. If she backed down on this, she might as well admit failure in the job she was appointed to do and go home to Dublin.
It took every ounce of her willpower to keep her gaze and her voice steady. ‘You know as well as I do, Filomena, that both you and Maria have the same position in this office and that there’s no such thing as a “senior” typist. You also know that there can be no errors in a legal document and I’m sure you’ll admit that every document that I have asked you to type since I came here contained several typing errors. I’m afraid that’s just not good enough. That’s why I’m asking Maria to help me with the contracts. It means she will not have time to go to the bank today.’ She handed Filomena back the cheques.
‘I’m going to speak to Bill about this when he gets back,’ Filomena muttered.
‘Fine,’ Caroline said coolly. ‘In the meantime, if you could lodge these and then start on the office supply orders, please.’
Furious, the younger woman grabbed the envelopes and her coat and marched out of the office, slamming the door. Maria gave Caroline a sympathetic smile. ‘Don’t mind her. Would you like some coffee?’
‘I’d love some,’ Caroline said fervently, drained after the encounter. Normally it took Maria only about half an hour to do the lodgements, but Filomena strolled in two hours later. Caroline said nothing but when lunchtime came she said to Filomena, who was sitting in icy silence at her desk, doing the office supplies, ‘I’m sure that since you took an early lunch you won’t mind if Maria and I take ours now. We won’t be late,’ she added pointedly. Filomena’s jaw dropped. She was stunned at this behaviour to say the least. She hadn’t figured that Caroline would exert her authority the way she had. She knew that if Bill found out about the way she had behaved today there’d be trouble. He had made it very plain that Caroline was in charge when he was out of the office. Well, she wouldn’t push her luck, she decided, but she was damned if she would give that Irish girl an easy ride.
Richard was exhausted. Charles had not been at all well that day. When his brother called, he sat with Charles for several hours and before he left he took Richard aside and said that maybe the time was coming when Charles would have to go to hospital.
‘He doesn’t want to go,’ Richard said agitatedly.
‘I know,’ the oncologist said kindly. ‘Cancer patients never do. I’ve increased his morphine dosage. Make sure that he doesn’t get dehydrated.’
Charles had fallen asleep that evening, but Richard could not relax, although he felt terribly tired himself. He was almost afraid to go to sleep in case he wouldn’t hear Charles if he called for him in the night. In the weeks after Christmas, Charles’s condition had worsened and fear gnawed at the younger man. He knew the time was coming when he was going to have to face the thing he most dreaded.
‘Don’t think about it until it happens,’ he muttered miserably, as he rubbed his neck muscles to try and loosen the knots of tension that had gathered there. He had deliberately blotted out the future, planning barbecues and picnics for the summer. The planning of them had kept him going, postponing the thought of what was inevitable.
‘Richard,’ he heard Charles call weakly and was at his bedside in two steps. There was something different about his friend’s face. He couldn’t explain it, but it filled him with fear.
‘Will I call Mark?’ he asked, taking Charles’s hand. It was icy-cold and he rubbed it between his palms, trying to infuse some warmth into it.
Charles shook his head and smiled. ‘There’s no need. I have no pain. I’d like to go into the sitting-room for a while and sit by the fire and look at the tree.’ Even though it was mid-January, the Christmas tree was still up, because Charles liked sitting in the soft glow of the twinkling lights and watching how the flames from the fire cast warm shadows on the walls and ceiling. His eyes couldn’t take harsh bright light any more, and if the tree had to stay up until June, Richard didn’t care.
He carried Charles gently into the sitting-room and settled him on the sofa in front of the still-flickering fire. He threw on some kindling and together they watched the flames rise brighter and higher.
‘Thank you, Richard, for everything,’ the older man said, with a weary smile.
‘It’s I who have to thank you, C
harles,’ Richard said fiercely. Why had those words of thanks seemed so final? Why did things seem so different tonight? They had sat here like this many times before. Why did Richard have this feeling of dread?
Charles lay back against his cushions and Richard tucked the rug closer around him. ‘You’re awfully cold, Charles. Will I get a quilt?’ he asked anxiously.
Charles took his hand, and Richard grieved at how frail those hands had become.
‘A quilt wouldn’t make any difference, dearest Richard; it won’t be long now.’
‘Don’t say that!’ Richard said angrily. ‘You’ve got to fight it.’
Charles sighed, ‘I don’t want to fight it any more. I don’t mind now.’
‘But aren’t you afraid?’ Richard could not understand the other man’s attitude. He was terrified of death.
‘No.’ Charles shook his head. ‘You get a peace that takes all the fear away. I don’t fear going to meet my Maker. He made me what I am. I did my best in life, I tried never to hurt anybody. That’s all anyone can do. Promise me, Richard, you’ll hold your head high and not be ashamed of who and what you are. God made you and me what we are. He’ll give you courage as he gave it to me. Have a happy life, Richard. Look everybody in the eye as I did. Stand by Caroline, just as she’ll stand by you. Promise me.’
‘I promise. I promise.’ Tears streamed down Richard’s face as he held Charles close.
‘It’s not so bad,’ Charles murmured and, closing his eyes, he drew several short shallow breaths and then gave the smallest sigh. There was silence and Richard knew he was dead.
‘Oh Charles, Charles, don’t leave me on my own. I’m scared, I’m scared as hell,’ Richard cried, great gasping sobs, knowing that he had lost the one person who had truly loved him with a wholehearted, generous, undemanding love. The only person who had never expected him to be anything he wasn’t. Richard bowed his head over his best friend and cried.
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