“Well, come on out,” Jennifer said, flicking open her desk diary. “Maybe not this weekend, because I want to get started on this.” She pointed to the document. “But what about the one after?”
Sam put his hand in his inside pocket and pulled out his diary and began to leaf through it. “No, nothing on. Molly and I would love to do that.”
“Okay, then that’s a date!”
“Is Alex going to be around?” Russ asked, taking his own diary out of his pocket.
Jennifer smiled. “I could try to get hold of him and ask. Do you want to give him his yearly thrashing?”
“Well, he’s about the only guy who can give me a decent game.”
Jennifer and Sam gave each other a knowing look, and noticing this, Russ raised his hands in innocence. “It’s true, I tell you!”
“Okay, I’ll give him a ring.” Jennifer jotted it down on her desk-pad, then dropped her pen on the desk. “Now why I am being honoured with this visit from you both?”
Sam pushed himself out of his chair and stretched his hands above his head. “No reason, really. Only that we’re going out for a quick drink and wondered if you would like to join us. Probably be the last opportunity that we’ll all have for some time.”
Jennifer smiled at both men, then shook her head. “That’s sweet of you, but I’d better not.” She picked up the document on the desk and started leafing through it. “I really want to get started on this.”
Sam’s face broke into a broad grin. “Great! I’m glad to hear it!” He took a pace over to Russ, who sat with a disgruntled pout on his face, and held out his hand. “That’s what I call commitment, don’t you, Russ?”
Russ looked round at him, and after a brief moment made a reluctant show of pulling a ten-dollar bill from the top pocket of his jacket and thrusting it into Sam’s open hand. Jennifer’s mouth fell open and she threw the papers back onto her desk, shaking her head in disbelief. “You two! You were betting on me coming with you, weren’t you?”
“No, get it right!” Sam said, giving her a wink. “Russ was betting on you coming, while I, as always, had total confidence in you, and subsequently…” He folded the bill in two, placed it in his top pocket and gave it a little pat “… the outcome of our bet!”
“You men are such babies!” Jennifer jumped to her feet, and picking up her pen from the desk, made to throw it at them both.
“Uh-oh!” Russ exclaimed, ducking out of his chair and moving fast after Sam who, laughing loudly, had managed to beat a hasty retreat to the door. The two men pushed and jostled each other outside into the corridor, then Russ turned and stuck his head round the corner of the door. “Don’t forget to call Alex!”
The pen hit the door a foot to the right of his nose. He glanced surprised at the point of impact, then, sticking out his tongue, closed the door quickly before further retribution could be administered.
“Goddamned schoolboys!” Jennifer said, smiling to herself. She walked over to retrieve her pen, then, returning to her chair, fell back into it and reached forward to pick up the telephone receiver. She pushed a button for one of the stored numbers and opened the document in front of her, closing it immediately when she heard an answer.
“Hello?”
“Hi, darling! It’s me!”
“Oh, hi! Hang on, Jennifer, it’s too noisy here. Just keep talking, though.”
“Where are you?”
“San Francisco airport. I’m just about to catch a flight to Houston. Okay, is that better?”
“Yes, much.”
“So, how’re things?”
“Great! Sam’s just given me a new contract to work on. Could be the big one for us.”
“Glad to hear it. Listen, can you be quick ’cos I’m going to have to go.”
“Oh—okay. In that case, could you just check your calendar and see if you’re going to be back in Leesport the weekend after next? I’ve invited Sam and Molly out for tennis, and, well, Russ wants to come out to get his game of singles with you.”
“Oh, hell, do I have to play him? It’s just one big ego trip as far as he’s concerned. I mean, he beats me every time.”
“I know, darling. But can you make it anyway—for me?”
“Look, I don’t have my calendar here, but I’ll do my best to keep the weekend free. Okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine.”
“All right. Well, I’d better be off.”
“Okay. Have a good flight.”
“Will do. See you.”
“Yeah, see you.”
Jennifer replaced the receiver and sat staring at the phone, suddenly feeling low at the lack of spontaneity in their conversation. “Love you,” she said quietly to herself.
There was a knock on her door and Mandy entered the room and came across to her desk. “Here are your notes.”
“That’s great, Mandy. Going home now?”
“Yup, if that’s okay?”
Jennifer lifted her head from her notes and smiled at her. “Yeah, fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”
As the door closed, she glanced back at the telephone, wondering if she should try calling Alex again. No, he’d said he was in a rush—it would probably just be a nuisance to him. She shook her head to support her decision, then pulled the file towards her and ran her hand down its centre to crease it open.
Chapter TWENTY-ONE
There had been all-round improvement at the Newman household by the time the day of the tennis party came round. Firstly, Benji’s tennis had now reached the stage that he could hold an extensive rally with David, even though David had to make sure that he kept hitting the ball to his forehand, otherwise it was quite likely to end up in the swimming pool. His ukulele playing likewise went from strength to strength, the only times that he was ever seen without the instrument being when he was playing tennis or at school, not yet having the confidence to show off his newly discovered prowess to his fellow pupils.
Despite this, he had decided that he would try entering a little song of his own for the school talent competition, his motivation for this being derived from the fact that David had himself written a little ditty about Dodie, specifically for Benji to play on the three chords that he had learned. However, throughout its first recital, Benji had criticized the song endlessly for its lack of accuracy and bad rhyming.
“So the chords are just straight G, C and D-Seventh—like that. Okay?”
“Yup. Can I do it now?”
“Hang on! You don’t even know how it goes yet!”
“Okay. But I’ll do it next time.”
“All right. Now, are you listening?”
“Yup.”
“Life is filled with such wonderful things
Like beer and hot apfelstrudel—”
“What’s apfelstrudel?”
“It’s a sort of a German apple-tart.”
“Do you always eat it with beer?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
“Well then, why beer and hot apfelstrudel?”
“Because it rhymes, Benji.”
“With what?”
“Just hold your horses! We haven’t got there yet.
“But it’s beaten by far
By a ride in the car
With Dodie the fun-loving poodle—”
“That’s ridiculous! Can’t you think of anything else to rhyme with poodle?”
“Hey, give me a break! It only took me an hour to write this!”
“An hour! But it’s only five lines long!”
“Just wait, Sir Tim Rice, I haven’t finished yet!”
“Who’s Sir Tim Rice?”
“Listen, do you want me to go on or not?”
“Okay.”
“We ride around the town
With the top folded down
And in Leesport I tell you that’s freezin’—”
“No, it’s not!”
“Not what?”
“It’s never freezing in Leesport. Well, not in summer, anyway. In wi
nter, it sometimes goes down to minus—”
“Benji!”
“Okay, I suppose you only used the word to rhyme with—”
“Look, do you want me to go on or not?”
“Sorry.”
“Then the air becomes thick
You think Dodie’s been sick
But it turns out that she’s only breathin’.”
“Hey! I like that!”
“Thank goodness! I’ve made an impression at last.”
“Only freezin’ doesn’t rhyme with breathin’.”
“Oh, forget it then!”
“No, please, David, do it again!”
“No. Couldn’t be bothered. Anyway, I haven’t finished it yet.”
“Please, David, sing the whole thing! I promise I won’t interrupt again.”
“Promise?”
“Yeah, promise. Go on, how does it start?”
“Life is filled with such wonderful things
Like beer and hot apfelstrudel
But it’s beaten by far
By a ride in the car
With Dodie the fun-loving poodle.
“We ride around town
With the top folded down
And in Leesport I tell you that’s freezin’.”
“Though it’s not!”
“You said you weren’t—”
“Sorry!”
“Then the air becomes thick
You think Dodie’s been sick
But it turns out that she’s only breathin’.”
“Right, all together now!”
“Life is filled with such wonderful things
Like beer and hot apfelstrudel.
But it’s beaten by far
By a ride in the car
With Dodie the fun-loving poodle.
“Well, she sits in her seat
Growls at all that she meets
’Cept the boy, and her boss who’s a
navvy.”
“Is the boy me?”
“Yeah.”
“Great! Er, David?”
“What?”
“Can I ask another question?”
“What?”
“What’s a navvy?”
“A workman. That’s me.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Can I go on?”
“Okay.”
“But although she goes wuff!
She’s just a bundle of fluff
And you can use her to clean out the
lavvy!”
“A lavvy?”
“A loo—a toilet. I don’t know what you call it.”
“Hey, that’s really rude!”
“Well, those are the lyrics.”
“I think it’s great! But I bet I could do just as well!”
“Well, do it then!”
“Okay, I will. But can I do that one now?”
* * *
It soon became their constant anthem, both of them singing it out loud as they drove back and forth through Leesport on the school run, with Dodie, ever present in the back seat, lapping up every moment of reflected glory.
* * *
June had also brought out an abundance of new colour in the garden, which helped to create a fresh and exciting vibrancy to the already perfect setting of the house. Roses of every hue bloomed majestically, while flocks and Japanese irises, encouraged by the warm weather, stretched their spindly necks above the hydrangeas and spicy-smelling geraniums, splashing their pin-points of colour against the blue backdrop of the bay. The trumpet-vine that grew at the front of the house and climbed high onto the veranda above the conservatory broke open its flowers, spreading them outward so that they licked like tiny incandescent flames at the white wooden railings and the shingles around the upper windows.
This all helped give David even greater impetus in his work. He had found a small garden centre five miles out of Leesport on the Montauk Highway, where he had bought an abundance of herbaceous shrubs and bedding plants to fill in the gaps that had been left by the previous gardener. However, his eccentric appearance whilst shopping, pushing his laden trolley along the paths with a poodle attached by its lead to the handle, soon drew the attention of the young couple who owned the place, and subsequently, during his third visit, they introduced themselves and asked him into their office for coffee and muffins. Visits thereafter gradually lengthened in time, and even though they became firm friends, he eventually had to try stockpiling his lists in order to cut down both on the time he spent away from the garden and on his intake of caffeine.
Nevertheless, it was these friends, really genuine friends, that he had made during his short time in Leesport who helped him prove to himself that his own healing process was well under way. No longer did he wish to head home each night to sit alone in the house. He actively sought company, and when he was not having supper with Jasmine and Benji, he either dropped in at the Leesport Bar for a beer and a chat with the locals, or he was being invited out for dinner with new-found acquaintances. On one such occasion it had been at the house of Clive and his friend Peter. While David was made to sit at the kitchen table, the two men accompanied the preparation of the meal with a hilarious and obviously well-rehearsed two-man act, each singing and dancing around the other, saucepan and mixing bowl in hand, to the strains of an old recording of My Fair Lady.
But the closest relationship he had of all was brought about by his daily contact with Jasmine and Benji, the bond that he had now formed with the young boy helping to bring thoughts of his own children constantly to the surface of his mind. Every second night he would sit down to write each a letter, starting always by knocking off the number of days left to the end of term with the words “Then Holiday Time!!” written after the scored-out figure. He really missed them so much, and although he felt apprehensive about eventually having to return to Scotland, there was also a profound excitement at the thought of being with them again.
Yet at present it was the environment of the Newman household which gave him the strongest indication that he was returning to normality, both the simplicity of his own existence and the innocent, uncomplicated chemistry engendered by his two friends helping to reduce the tangled mess of barbed wire in his brain to a smooth, straight line of clear thought.
Consequently, life for him revolved around his work in the garden: the tennis matches with Benji, for which Jasmine, at Benji’s insistence, had now been made to perch on a step-ladder at the side of the net, calling out what was invariably the wrong score, but all adding to the authenticity and importance of the occasion; the ferry trips to Fire Island with Benji, who, more often than not, was allowed to demonstrate his nautical skills by taking over at the helm; the evenings in the kitchen or on the terrace, drinking wine with Jasmine whilst Benji interrupted them constantly to sing Dodie’s song or yet another line of his own “hit” single; and then Jasmine’s driving lessons up the drive, which numbered only one and a bit, Jasmine having stormed off halfway through the second, leaving her passengers bent double with uncontrollable laughter at her total inability to master clutch control.
However, despite their ever-deepening friendship, David never mentioned anything about his past, unprepared to start revealing any of his innermost thoughts. This was not through any lack of trust or opportunity in confiding in Jasmine, but more that he was frightened of the reaction that he himself might have to his own revelation, knowing that it could so easily open up healing wounds and allow the infection of unwelcome sorrow to penetrate his mind again.
Friday had been such a beautiful day, with the sea breeze picking up enough to blow away the sticky humidity which had hung about since the previous weekend, that David had picked up Benji from school and, with Jasmine’s permission, they had gone straight to the marina to catch the ferry to Fire Island. There they had spent the late afternoon and early evening, happily playing football on the beach and swimming in the sea, making it back across the boardwalk just in time to catch the last ferry home. Because it was too late to com
plete the work that he had scheduled for himself that day, David decided to return to finish off his tasks on the Saturday.
He arrived at the house at his usual time of eight-fifteen in the morning, to be met by Benji, who came running out of the kitchen still wearing his pyjamas. He proceeded to rattle off a garbled explanation about why he wouldn’t be able to keep him company until later, seeing that his father was home and he wanted to play him his new song. David excused him, secretly relieved that he would now be allowed to complete the rest of the mowing without interruption.
By mid-day, the lawn tractor was back in the shed, and he had moved down to the flower-bed at the farthest end of the tennis court to plant the rest of the shrubs that he had purchased from the garden centre two days beforehand. He was in the process of digging in a new dwarf rhododendron when he heard voices coming from around the side of the hedge and turned to see five figures dressed in tennis whites slowly make their way towards the small summer-house at the other end of the court, chatting as they walked. Dodie let out a short bark to warn him of strangers in their garden.
“Dodie! That’s enough!” he said quietly, watching them long enough to see Benji careering around the corner on his bicycle before turning back to his work.
“Benji! Watch out! You nearly ran over Sam!”
“Sorry, Sam! Sorry, Dad! HI, DAVID!”
David looked up and gave him a brief wave before returning to his work.
“Who’s that, Jennifer?” David heard a female voice say.
“That’s David, the new gardener. God, look, I’d better go and have a word with him. I haven’t spoken to him since he first arrived. Listen, Alex, darling, why don’t you play with Molly—no, that’s not fair—Russ, you play with Molly, and Alex, you play with Sam.”
“Christ, Jennifer, I still think it’s too hot to play. I mean, it’s the middle of the day!”
“Come on, moaner, you’ve been sitting on a plane all week. It’ll do you good, and anyway, it might sweat off some of those extra pounds that total inactivity has put on your middle!”
There was an outburst of laughter.
“Thanks for nothing!”
“Can’t I introduce Dad to David, Mom?” Benji asked.
“Yeah, why can’t I meet Superman?”
An Ocean Apart Page 26