The Reunion

by Gould, R J

  They’d rented a flat together about a year after meeting and had worked hard to make their first home attractive, with furniture from Habitat and wallpaper from Laura Ashley. It was here that Rachel was conceived, the pregnancy coming quicker than planned. They’d talked about buying a bigger home before having children and would have liked more opportunity to save for the deposit needed, but the delight of a forthcoming child far exceeded financial concerns.

  He couldn’t deny that Jane had been an ideal partner. David still remembered the wonderful words that Jane had uttered on their way home after the doctor had confirmed her pregnancy. ‘A child with you is my greatest dream come true.’ She was a light-hearted counter to his rather serious self. Somehow that part of her personality had withered away over the years.

  During the pregnancy the topic of moving house frequently cropped up; they wanted more space and a garden for their child. Jane scanned the local paper and made appointments to view houses. One Saturday morning, less than six weeks before Rachel was due, they saw their dream home. They sensed it as soon as they walked inside a 1930s semi with original art-deco features, much concealed by appalling renovation. David did the financial calculations for buying the property while Jane worked out what would be needed to update it and at what cost.

  “£15,000 would more than do for the deposit and refurbishment,” David announced.

  “What’s the gap?”

  “We’ve only got about £6,000 saved.”

  “Let’s ask the parents for a loan.”

  One evening the following week Jane’s parents and David’s mother were brought together for a lasagne followed by cherry sponge with ice cream, washed down with two expensive bottles of Chardonnay. The trio hadn’t sat comfortably together at previous meetings. David’s dour mother didn’t respond well to the frivolity of the couple. On this occasion it was worsened by the obvious tension between Jane’s parents. Her father’s cutting sarcasm was matched by her mother’s snide remarks. They announced their separation soon afterwards.

  Jane brushed aside the friction and addressed the issue as soon as her father had complimented her on the cherry sponge.

  “David and I have been thinking things through what with the baby on its way. We’re keen to buy a house so we can have a garden. Trouble is, we haven’t got enough for a deposit and we were wondering if you could help. Just a loan, though we don’t know when we’ll be able to repay you.” David appreciated that Jane was far better at getting straight to the point than he and was happy to let her do the talking.

  And she did get her way on this, easily and quickly.

  “See what’s around and how much you need then we’ll see what we can do to help,” her father had suggested.

  “We know what we want, we’ve seen our dream house. But we need to act now in case someone else snaps it up. We’re £9,000 short.”

  The parents agreed to split the burden equally, with an unwritten commitment to be paid back as and when. David had been unsure whether his mother would be able to afford anything, but she was happy to contribute her share.

  The house was vacant, the current owner having separated from her husband and moved closer to her sister in Surrey. As a result, contracts could be exchanged quickly. That gave David and Jane a month to reshape the house before the birth and to her credit Jane contributed with astounding energy considering her state.

  Yes, she’d been right to say it was her house. There was much evidence of her influence in it. He could understand her discomfort and resentment in seeing another woman there. But surely he shouldn’t be feeling in any way sorry for her, bearing in mind it had been her decision to leave.

  He had reached home. He parked in the drive and switched off the engine, but remained in the car as he struggled to figure out when there had been the first indication that all was not right with their relationship. There were many milestones to draw upon as evidence of closeness. The first meeting at a university disco and then together pretty well every day and many nights towards the end of his final year at university. Visits every weekend during the year when David had started working and Jane was still studying. Naturally still close when they married. The births of Rachel and Sam. Coping with the helter-skelter of joyous and scary events during the early childhood years. The same wavelength until, until when? David had thought things were still fine during their holiday in Brittany. Clearly that was not the case.

  And how quickly things were shifting for David because he now felt completely detached from his wife.

  When Jabulani had popped into his office the previous week he’d talked about how he’d always been close to his brother. But during the time when he thought he was dead that closeness had strengthened and the loss had felt unbearably painful. He referred to the wisdom of the saying ‘absence makes the heart grow fonder’.

  By contrast, although David had been equally close to his wife, only months after she walked out he didn’t miss her.

  “You know, there’s another saying suggesting the complete opposite. ‘Out of sight out of mind’. I’ll tell you what Jabulani, at times in the not too distant past it was like we were telepathic, our relationship was that strong. Now when I see her she’s like a stranger. The detachment hasn’t developed gradually, it’s been as sudden as a cliff edge. I feel that I have nothing in common with her. How on earth can that be the case?”

  There was a pause for thought before Jabulani replied. “I think people are like onions. We have a multitude of layers, in our case layers of personality. You think you know someone inside out, then they strip off a layer or two and you don’t know the new person at all.”

  “An interesting idea,” David replied. “I’ll tell you something, I think that applies to me. At my age I’d expect my behaviour to be set, but in a new situation with a new person I’m behaving completely differently.”

  “There are lots of layers, David. You might carry on shedding them until the day you die. You can put them back too as problems are resolved.”

  “That would be great.”

  “I assume you’re thinking of your new woman.”

  “Not quite my new woman yet, but very close to it I hope.”

  “I hope so, too. You deserve happiness.”

  David looked at his watch; he’d been sitting in the stationary car for over half an hour. He got out and went indoors.

  How would the onion analogy pan out with Bridget? His passion for her seemed stronger than what he had ever felt for Jane, though this might be a trick of memory. Surely the current intense feelings, including the lust, had been there for Jane in the early days even if he couldn’t recall them now. And if it had been there for Jane and it was now forgotten, what long term hope was there for the survival of any new relationship? Would Bridget become the current Jane – distant, stale and forgotten as further layers of his onion were discarded?

  The Reunion – R J Gould

  Chapter 21

  He had failed by a whisker to achieve APMLTO4 and maybe even APMLTO5 the previous night. At least he would be able to get number one out of the way today. Hardly compensation, but better than nothing. Medium/Long term objectives

  1. Take a cookery course (APMLTO1)

  Sam was watching television, a repeat of one of the Attenborough nature programmes. David came in and sat down next to him. They gazed in awe as male penguins huddled together in the freezing Antarctic, delicately balancing eggs on their webbed feet in anticipation of the return of their mates as soon as the weather improved.

  “Oh, Rachel phoned,” Sam announced as a female polar bear was introducing her two cubs to the harshness of the outside world. “She’ll be back some time this afternoon.”

  When the programme was over Sam used the remote to switch off the television and headed off to do homework. David got going with preparing food and within ten minutes was calling out. “Sam, lunch is ready.”

  His son came into the kitchen. “That’s quick, what are we having?”

  “W
elsh rarebits.”

  Sam didn’t look enthusiastic. “Shouldn’t it be a roast, it’s Sunday.”

  “No time, because guess what I’m off to do this afternoon. A cookery class.”

  “That’s a good idea.”

  “Except I thought Rachel would be back by now. Will you be OK at home by yourself?”

  “I’m not a baby.”

  The phone rang and Sam got to it first. The conversation was brief. “That was Rachel. She’s staying over at Hannah’s again tonight, it’s one of their friend’s birthdays.”

  “Oh, maybe I should cancel then. I don’t want to leave you alone for hours.”

  “Don’t be silly, I’m thirteen, I’ll be fine. I’ve got loads of homework to do.”

  Satisfied that Sam would cope, David headed off to the local further education college to take part in the half-day Learn to Cook – Anyone Can Do It course. The promotional information made the claim that the course would provide instant confidence in buying the right ingredients; perfect preparation; high quality cooking including the making of sauces; tips on how to serve up in style; and if time, an insight into dessert making. Presumably without the pun intended, it was described as a ‘taster’ course, with discounts offered for follow-ups: Great Grilling and Roasting, Simple Italian, Cup Cake Champion, and Fantastic Fish.

  David thought the promise of what would be delivered during a single afternoon session was well over the top, but having surfed the internet for ages he had selected this course because it was the nearest to home.

  The roads were Sunday-clear and in less than fifteen minutes he was walking through near deserted corridors on his way to the kitchen classroom. The room itself was a fabulous facility with no expense spared. In fact the whole college was an impressively designed new build, opened a little over two years earlier at a cost of sixteen million pounds. There had been a lot of money to spend ahead of the stringent government cuts.

  He was the first to arrive. Before long there were eight of them, four men and four women, standing around waiting for their tutor to appear. Conversation progressed from name introductions to ‘what made you come to this?’ He discovered two men were in a similar position to him, newly separated or divorced. They were keen to develop the quality of what they could offer their children when it was their turn. Luke’s children were aged three and six and they stayed with him every other weekend. He claimed their mother brought them up on a diet of pizza, beans and chips and he wanted to improve on that. The fourth man was Nathan. He had a burly physique and tattoos covering his arms. He was a car mechanic who wanted a career change to chef.

  The four women varied in age from late teens to old age pensioner. The teen, a confident girl called Tanya, talked about how much she enjoyed cooking but claimed that what they were told to prepare in school was dead boring. The oldest lady was looking for something of interest now she had stopped work as a librarian; once she got talking it was hard to get her to stop. The two other women, both called Janet, were fed up providing the same old stuff over and over again for their families.

  Robert, the professional chef engaged as the course tutor, was an instant hit. He started with funny stories about how he had been a hopeless cook at first. “So if you feel culinarily challenged, join the club. There are millions out there like you, but the difference is that you’re prepared to do something about it. Today I’m going to rock your socks off, or tights for the ladies. You’re going to go home and shock your dinner companions whether it’s a would-be lover you want to impress or a rowdy gang of kids or,” he looked across to Brenda the pensioner, her grey hair permed with a hint of lilac rinse, “to prove you’re never too old to try something new.”

  He announced the menu for today, seasonal vegetable soup with cheese croutons followed by pan roasted free range chicken with tarragon and crème fraiche sauce. If time, there would be blueberry tart to follow.

  Robert ended up with a round of applause and the participants with an impressive meal to take home. Before leaving, David booked into the Simple Italian course. This would be a six-week evening class led by Robert that started in January. Five of the other participants would be joining him.

  By the time David got back to his car there was a light dusting of snow settling; perhaps it would be a White Christmas. Sam greeted him at the front door and followed him into the kitchen.

  With a degree of pride David laid out his offering on the kitchen table.

  “Voila mon enfant, le diner.”

  “Merci papa, c’est delicieux.”

  It was delicious and Sam volunteered to try anything his father brought back from a cookery class.

  David cleared away the dinner things. He was feeling high-spirited, the course had been an enjoyable success and there were more cookery lessons to come. The relationship with Bridget was burgeoning. And not to forget, every one of his short term objectives had been achieved. The feeling of absurdity in having put any action points down on paper had diminished – the process had given him direction. That being the case, now was the time to consider the feasibility of the two long term objectives yet to be tackled.

  Medium/Long term objectives

  2. Quit my job and pack in accountancy

  3. Open an arts café

  David thought he should get some advice. He knew all about business plans and with his accountancy background had sound financial knowledge. However this didn’t make him an entrepreneur, not if the way some of his friends operated was anything to go by. Top of that list was Ross who moved from project to project, indifferent to the threat of failure. He’d met Ross at university and they’d kept in irregular touch ever since, meeting every six months or so. Ross always had a new venture on the horizon. ‘If this doesn’t work I’ll dump it and try something else’ he would explain when David confronted him with all the what-ifs. He was a millionaire despite twice being declared bankrupt. The last time they’d spoken Ross was about to set up in online pet food sales, having already suffered one e-commerce woe when the dot com bubble burst and his online theatre ticket agency went under.

  “Why would anyone want to buy their pet food online, Ross?”

  “It’ll be cheaper.”

  “But what about delivery costs.”

  “Well they won’t see those until check out and people rarely cancel once they’ve got that far.”

  David could never work out whether he liked or despised his ex-university friend. Ross could be ruthless, aggressive and insensitive, but it was fun to spend an evening with him and at times he could be extremely kind-hearted. Like when he managed to get sought after concert tickets for Rachel during her short period of obsession with Girls Aloud.

  Jane knew Ross from their university days and joined in when they met up. She liked to bitch about the variety of women that Ross brought to their gatherings. There had been a lot of recent ammunition. About a year ago with Wife Number Three present, the atmosphere had been deadly, a battle for which of the two of them could be the nastiest. David didn’t know at the time, but Ross had been caught having an affair with a work colleague. It was this colleague who came along to the next get-together, an embarrassing evening with the couple entwined and eager to depart. When Ross phoned a few weeks later he told David that the work colleague had chosen her husband over him. But never mind because he was madly in love with a new woman. ‘Woman’ was a misleading descriptor – ‘girl’ would have been more appropriate. Ross had met Hazel at a drum and bass gig. It was Hazel who had accompanied him at their most recent meal out and David had expressed his shock to Jane on the way home. Look, she’d replied, he’s got money, she’s got looks. Maybe it’ll be fine.

  Nothing was fine when he called Ross to get his advice on the coffee bar.

  David began by informing Ross that Jane had left him. Ross stated that it was all for the best since he’d always thought that she was stuck up and frumpy. ‘Let’s face it,’ he’d said, ‘older men attract younger women. It’s a man’s market out there, Dav
id. See this as a great opportunity. And it never works the other way – older women are hung out to dry.’ He treated women like his money making ventures. You win some and you lose some and if you fail you move on.

  David outlined his idea for a coffee bar and Ross laughed. “You’re hardly going to make your millions with that.”

  “That’s not the point.”

  “Then what is the point? Setting up a new business is a big ask even if it’s only a piddly little café. If that’s what you want and you’re serious about it, I am prepared to pop over and talk it through with you. But I can tell you now, it’s a waste of time.”

  David thought he would take up Ross’s offer despite his dismissive tone. But beforehand he needed to work on the plan himself.

  There he was with a blank pad and an unused pen in front of him and he was unclear where to start. He had no knowledge of anything to do with opening a café. His reasoning for this massive career change, at the outset clear, was now vague. He liked cafes but so what? That wasn’t going to help. He also liked films but that didn’t mean he was able to be an actor, director, or owner of a chain of cinemas.

  He decided to begin by assessing need. Most cafes closed soon after the shops. For a while the town centres were near deserted and then the young descended to take possession of the high streets, moving between near identical pubs with music blasting and bouncers at the door. The old were unwelcome in the vicinity, ‘old’ meaning anything over thirty let alone mid-forties like him. Some pubs might not be populated by the young, but these were often run down and uninviting. Wouldn’t it be good to have a coffee bar open throughout the evening, a place to visit after cinema or theatre, a venue for events like concerts, poetry readings, book clubs and art exhibitions?