The Benefits of Passion

by Catherine Fox

  ‘Hey, Annie, look at this.’

  ‘No, you’ve got to explain first,’ pointed out Lisa.

  ‘Oh, right. OK. It’s a poem,’ said Hayley. ‘I think you’ll recognize it.’

  ‘Only we took all the nouns out and looked them up in the dictionary,’ said Lisa.

  ‘Then we counted on ten entries and found the next noun and put that into the poem instead. Here.’ Annie took the sheet.

  ‘Read it out loud,’ suggested Penny. Ted looked up from his book. Annie cleared her throat and began:

  The Tightrope by William Blancmange

  Tightrope, tightrope, burning bright,

  In the foretaste of the nightgown,

  What immortal handcart or eyeful

  Could frame thy fearful sympathy?

  In what distant defamations or skylarks

  Burnt the firebomb of thine eyefuls?

  On what wingdings dare he aspire?

  What the handcart dare seize the firebomb?

  And what shove and what Artemis

  Could twist the singers of thy heart failure?

  And when thy heart failure began to beat

  What dread handcart and what dread felafel?

  What the hammer toe? What the chainprinter?

  In what furrier was thy brake fluid?

  What the aorist? What dread grasshopper

  Dare its deadly tertiary bursaries clasp?

  When the starlets threw down their spearwort,

  And watered heavy breathers with their tearooms

  Did he smile his worker to see?

  Did he who made the Lambeth Conference make thee?

  Tightrope, tightrope, burning bright . . .

  When the laughter died down Annie folded the sheet and slipped it into her notebook. As she did so William’s letter slid out. She replaced it hastily, resolving to hide it somewhere better in case Edward called and caught sight of it. Why’s William writing to you, eh? Well? She yawned and stretched. ‘I think I might go for a little walk.’

  It was getting dark and the others weren’t inclined to leave the fireside. Annie put on her coat and slipped the letter into the pocket. When she reached the streetlight at the end of the lane she paused, pulled out the letter once again and squinted at it. She had pored over it frequently, if only to reassure herself that it didn’t say, Dear Anthony, just a quick note to say thank you for the hankies. Walter. No. It was definitely for her, but she was still unable to decipher more than a couple of words. She folded it again and continued to walk. It remained as a symbol of their inability to communicate.

  CHAPTER 14

  The following day was bright and windy. Annie was out in the countryside with the Watts family. They were following a muddy path through a pine forest, heading for a place called the Lady Well.

  ‘Papist nonsense,’ Ted remarked.

  ‘Go on with you, you curmudgeonly old Prot,’ said Penny, giving him a shove. They walked on arm in arm. Annie fell back a little. The air was mild and the larch trees on either side already had their soft green tassels. Above her head the treetops were rushing like the sea. Hayley and Lisa were in front playing a game in which you could say anything except yes or no. Their laughter echoed in the wood.

  Before long the track reached the edge of the trees and crossed a field. Annie saw Ted and Penny exchange a peck at the kissing gate. She felt a pang. When would she ever manage to have a relationship that survived till the companionable arm-in-arm stage? She picked her way through the mud and sheep dung. The Watts family were all bleating. Occasionally a sheep raised its head and stared in astonishment.

  ‘Cutlets! Cutlets!’ cried Hayley and Lisa. They were heading for a group of trees.

  ‘Do you suppose that’s it in there?’ called Lisa.

  ‘Yes,’ called Ted.

  ‘You said the Y-word!’ yodelled his daughters.

  The sky was clear apart from the occasional white cloud that the wind hunted swiftly along. Annie paused. Something was flapping on the barbed wire fence. When she got close she saw that it was a line of seven moles, long dead, desiccated, the barbs driven through their snouts. She drew back in shock. Who could have done such a thing? The farmer, presumably. She walked on, hoping the animals had been dead before they were impaled there. A picture of them writhing and dancing on the wire filled her mind. It made her think of the Crucifixion. Easter was only a few days away.

  The Lady Well was a large shallow rectangular pool with a Celtic cross in the middle. Trees stood on all sides. There were daffodils in the undergrowth. Tossing their headcollars in sprightly dandruff – another work of literature desecrated by Hayley and Lisa the night before. Annie walked round the edge of the pond. The game had revealed a deep-seated hostility to these poems she had taught.

  They flash upon the inward eyeful

  Which is the blitzkrieg of solo whist.

  At the far end of the pond was a slope. Annie climbed it and sat on a bench watching the others as they tried to make out the inscription on the stone cross.

  ‘It says Paulinus, Archbishop of York, baptized three thousand Northumbrians here on Easter Day in . . .’ Ted paused.

  ‘Six hundred and something,’ said Penny. ‘I’m hopeless at Roman numerals.’

  ‘Imagine Roman maths lessons,’ said Lisa.

  From where Annie was sitting the cross was framed on either side by two dark yew columns planted at the water’s edge. All the trees were dancing in the wind. Some of the buds were beginning to burst. A clump of daffodils nodded, yes, spring will surely come. She took her usual consolation in the fact that the seasons rolled round with no reference to Annie Brown.

  This place is like a windy outdoor cathedral, she thought. The tree trunks might be pillars round a watery nave, windows of sky with beech twig tracery, and the branches meeting in vaults high up above. Dear God, she found herself saying, I’m so sorry for letting you down. I’ve made such a mess of everything. For once her mother’s voice was silent. There was nothing but the big rushing of the wind and a sense of expectation, as though the landscape were waiting for something, a crucifixion, a new birth – she wasn’t sure which.

  ‘What’s that you’re writing all the time?’ asked Hayley, peering over Annie’s shoulder. Annie closed her book. The girls had followed her after lunch up to the bedroom the three of them were sharing. Perhaps Ted and Penny had told them to be sensitive and not exclude her from their games too much.

  ‘It’s all in code,’ said Lisa. ‘Is it your journal?’

  ‘Sort of,’ lied Annie.

  ‘When you’re dead and famous someone will decipher it,’ said Hayley. ‘Like Pepys.’ She wandered to the window and let out a huge sigh. ‘I wish Crunch would come.’

  ‘He’s late,’ said Lisa. She went to join her sister at the window. They talked about Edward, and quoted bits of their latest work ‘Ode on a Grecian Urogenital System’ to each other.

  ‘Hey, there’s a car coming!’ exclaimed Hayley. ‘It’s him!’ The tyres crunched down the lane and came to a standstill. Annie heard doors opening, then, unmistakably, Edward’s voice. Her spirits rose. Dear old Edward.

  The girls rapped on the window and waved. There was a pause, then they both wailed.

  ‘Still a babe!’

  ‘Eat him alive!’ They darted out of the room.

  ‘Mum! Dad!’ Annie heard them calling as they pounded down the stairs in their Doc Martens. ‘It’s Crunch!’

  Annie went downstairs to join them.

  ‘Annie!’ said Edward. Mwah! Mm-mwah! The girls were reeling off long sentences in their secret language. He glared at them suspiciously. ‘What are you two on about?’

  ‘Nothing!’ They giggled.

  ‘William here yet?’ asked Edward. Annie froze.

  ‘Are we expecting him?’ said Penny.

  ‘Said he was coming over this afternoon,’ Edward replied. ‘Paying a landlordly visit. Hoping to catch you all in.’

  Ted’s eyes were seeking Annie’s anxi
ously. She looked away.

  ‘What’s he like?’ demanded Lisa.

  ‘Is he as good-looking as you?’ chimed in Hayley.

  ‘No,’ said Edward frankly. ‘Ugly bugger, if you ask me. Can’t see why he’s got women crawling all over him.’

  The girls began rattling away in code again. Penny began to suggest putting on the kettle when they all heard the sound of another car approaching.

  ‘That’ll be him now,’ said Edward. He went to the door. Annie wrung her hands. What am I going to do? Oh, God, he can’t have realized I’m here. Ted was watching her again and she tried desperately to compose herself.

  ‘William!’ boomed Edward’s voice out on the road.

  The two girls were at the window. They let out a shriek.

  ‘His eyes!’

  ‘Oh, no! Sex on legs!’

  ‘It’s Dr Sex!’

  He was in the room. Edward was making introductions. Everyone was shaking hands. ‘William, you remember Annie?’

  ‘Vaguely.’

  Annie flinched and smiled blindly in his direction.

  ‘Why don’t I put the kettle on?’ asked Penny again. ‘Tea, everyone?’ They were all in the sitting room.

  ‘Gosh, Annie, you look dreadful,’ said Edward with an untimely burst of perceptiveness. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘I’m fine.’ Her lips trembled back into a smile. Ted began at once to engage William in conversation. The girls tittered on.

  ‘I’ve got a bit of a headache, that’s all,’ said Annie.

  ‘Did you go to the doctor?’ persisted Edward. She shook her head. ‘William, persuade her.’ The rest of them fell silent at Edward’s commanding tone. ‘She’s had flu and lost loads of weight, but she refuses to see a doctor. Talk some sense into her, will you?’

  ‘She’s not my patient,’ said William coldly.

  This was too much for Annie. She pulled away from Edward. ‘I said I’m fine. I just need some fresh air.’ She rushed out of the room and grabbed her coat.

  Edward pursued her. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Out. Leave me alone, Edward.’ She tugged away and plunged out of the door and up the lane.

  She half ran up the hill out of the village. They must all realize now, she sobbed to herself. There was a stile in the hedge. She climbed it and struggled up the grassy hill, hoping Edward wasn’t following. Why had William come? What if he stalked her for the rest of her life, appearing without warning, cold and sarcastic, sending her menacing letters she couldn’t read?

  She reached the hilltop and flung herself down on a rocky ledge. I can’t take any more of it. They were all wounding her in their different ways. Edward with his blundering concern, the girls with their banter. Even Ted with his worried glances and tactful intervention. I can’t survive till tomorrow. I’ll have to leave this afternoon. She wrapped her arms round her knees and sobbed bitterly.

  ‘Jesus, Annie.’ She whirled round. William. Her sobs stopped short in terror. He knelt beside her, panting from the climb. ‘Oh, Christ. What have I done? This is my fault, isn’t it? Look at me, Annie.’ She shrank away as his hand reached out to push the hair back from her face. ‘How much weight have you lost?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she stuttered.

  ‘Can’t you eat? Are you sleeping all right?’ She shook her head. He tried to take her hands but she hugged them to herself. ‘Look, Edward’s right. Seriously, Annie. You’re depressed. You should see a doctor.’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ she choked out. A skylark was singing somewhere as though none of this mattered.

  ‘I’ve been desperate to see you. Did you get my letter?’

  ‘I couldn’t read your writing.’

  ‘Fuck. Why didn’t you phone and say? Don’t tell me – you couldn’t read the number and I’m ex-directory. Fuck it.’

  ‘I’m sorry I laughed at you,’ she couldn’t help blurting out.

  ‘Laughed? When?’ She saw him remember. ‘Have you been blaming yourself all this time? Oh, Annie, for God’s sake! This is my problem, not yours. Surely that was obvious?’

  ‘I couldn’t think what else I’d done to make you hate me.’ She wept.

  ‘Hate you? It’s me I hate. Please don’t cry like this, Annie.’ His hand was on her arm. ‘Christ, I’m so sorry. And don’t say it’s all right. That’s why I couldn’t bring myself to apologize at the time. I knew what you’d say.’ She tried to wipe her eyes and stop crying. ‘The only good thing that’s come out of this is that it’s made me do what I should have done years ago – find a therapist.’

  ‘Has it helped?’

  ‘Early days.’ The lark was still singing. Annie searched the sky, but it wavered through her tears and she couldn’t see the bird anywhere. ‘I still can’t believe it. I meet this wonderful, funny, sexy woman and bang! I turn into the mad wolf-man. It’s –’ She saw that he was close to tears. ‘This is, um, incredibly difficult to talk about.’ There was a long pause. ‘It’s just that in the past I’ve been involved in a couple of . . . of . . . disastrous relationships, that seem to have left me . . . And somehow I ended up taking it out on you. Punishing you for what she –’ He broke off.

  ‘Thanks for . . . for trying to explain,’ she said, after a while.

  ‘That’s what I tried to write, really. I wanted to say sorry. Sorry you had to be involved in one of the most shaming episodes of my life. And you didn’t read a bloody word of it.’

  ‘I did try!’ she protested. She felt in her coat pocket and brought out the crumpled letter. ‘You read it to me, then.’

  He unfolded it and held it at arm’s length. ‘Hmm. Well, that looks like my address there. And that must be the date. Let’s see: “Dear Annie, I can’t” – No, wait, “I’m sorry I” . . . something something . . . Jesus! What diabolical handwriting.’ He handed it back. ‘Haven’t a clue.’

  She let out a sobbing laugh. ‘I hope the local pharmacist can decipher your prescriptions.’

  ‘We’re computerized these days.’ There was the ravishing smile at last. She could feel herself colouring. What had he said – wonderful, funny, sexy? ‘Look, it’s a lot to ask, but am I forgiven, Annie?’

  ‘Yes. Except for putting the rugby on afterwards,’ she added mischievously.

  ‘Oh, God, did I? I did. I didn’t want you to hear me crying. I was completely pissed and deeply, deeply ashamed.’ She wished she had said nothing. He was not a man to suffer humiliation lightly. How much had it cost his pride to get help?

  ‘Well, these therapists are very skilled,’ she ventured.

  ‘Yeah. But why are they all women of a certain age? I mean, I may as well talk to my mother.’ His words hung in the air uncomfortably. ‘Annie . . .’

  The skylark was still pouring its song down on them. She felt his hand tucking her hair gently behind her ear. He was humming something she almost recognized.

  ‘What’s that tune?’

  ‘“Maxwellton braes are bonnie, where early fa’s the dew . . .”’

  ‘You have a beautiful voice.’

  He smiled and sang her the whole song.

  ‘“. . . And for bonnie Annie Laurie, I would lay me doon and dee.”’

  She laced her fingers together to stop them trembling. What am I going to do? He was made up of such wild extremes – needlessly cruel, absurdly tender. But how could she be sure this man was the real Will, and that that afternoon had just been some terrible aberration? He stopped singing.

  ‘You’re completely mad, Will.’

  ‘Afraid so. Welcome to Dundee, honey child.’

  The home of the rich fruitcake? She bit her lips.

  ‘Come on,’ he said. ‘Let’s get back before Edward comes yomping through the fields looking for us.’ They got to their feet and stood for a moment looking out across the countryside spread out below them.

  ‘I haven’t told him anything,’ said Annie anxiously.

  ‘So I gathered – when he didn’t call round with his horsewhip.’ He t
ook her hand and hesitated. ‘Annie –’ But at that moment there was a loud hallooing from below them. They looked and saw Edward on the stile, waving.

  ‘Sod it.’ William withdrew once more into his distant manner and they made their way down the hill.

  CHAPTER 15

  It was the middle of the night. Annie was curled up near the sitting-room window, looking out. The cottage was quiet. Sometimes the wind murmured around the chimney pot or in the old pine tree in the garden. The fields and hills were silvery in the moonlight. She took another sip of chamomile tea. At the other side of the village the chapel clock chimed tinnily. Three o’clock. Will was asleep in the next room, having been persuaded to stay the night . . . Annie pricked up her ears. What was that? Was it panting? There was a clatter of doggy claws on the floor. Libby! I thought you’d gone for good, girl! Annie knew she must banish her at once to her cold kennel outside, but she hadn’t the heart.

  The events of the afternoon and evening chased round her brain. What had William been about to say when Edward interrupted them? Surely it had been a declaration of some sort? It was just as well that he had been prevented. It gave her time to marshal her resistance. Here was her opportunity to get it right; like Jonah, spewed up on dry land and given a second chance to denounce Nineveh. She really mustn’t – must not – fail God a second time. And wasn’t Penny right? Annie had caught the tail end of a comment she made to Ted: ‘. . . serious bad news for any woman who got involved with him.’ But all the same . . . Ow-ow-ow-ooo! Stop it, Libby, or you’ll be outside!

  The man was so dangerously irresistible. Fifty pence in the Sankey box for humming ‘Yield Not to Temptation.’ Annie had watched him enslaving Ted’s daughters. His appeal could be broken down into three component parts: 80 per cent indifference, 17 per cent rudeness and 3 per cent devastating charm. She pictured him again, kneeling on the hearth trying to light the fire, keeping up a sotto voce stream of profanities as the damp wood failed to light and Edward tried to take over. Hayley and Lisa sat nudging and daring one another until at last Hayley picked up the Sankey box and rattled it at him. He turned and treated them to his icy stare. They shrank back, giggling.