Seven Days There

by Ruth Hay

  I’d warn her not to marry too soon. It takes time to learn that love is more than sex.”

  She stopped; then added. “The problem with that girl is she never did listen to good advice.”

  Valerie and Sandra laughed with Corinne, but Sandra soon became solemn as she realized it was her turn next and there was no way to get out of responding.

  “This is hard for me. I think I have been blotting out my true feelings for years with distractions like TV. I’ll try to be honest now. It’s time.

  First of all, I would say to that girl; Wake up! Listen to your own heart. Don’t just follow along with others who tell you what you should do.

  Second of all (and this is thanks to you, Val) I would tell her to look around her. The island where she was born is magical and special and she will never be truly at home anywhere else.”

  Her listeners moved closer as they saw tears drop from Sandra’s eyes. They understood how important these statements were.

  “Thirdly, I would say don’t marry at all if it means you could lose yourself. That loss is worse than anything else you can imagine.”

  No one knew what to say. This one question had opened up a real can of worms. The words echoed in the room and inside each head.

  Valerie wondered if it was obvious to the others that her words to her teenage self were also relevant to her present situation.

  Corinne suddenly saw that her advice was for Carla as much as for her earlier self.

  Sandra knew she had revealed more about her marriage and her fears than she had intended.

  Corinne figured they had gone too far to turn back now.

  “Well, let’s see what the next question brings up. Are we willing to continue?”

  It was the same question asked on the Rydal Mount climb. Going on had been the right response then, leading to new understandings. Perhaps it would be the same now.

  No one objected, so Valerie looked again at her list. She almost skipped the next question but decided the effects so far demanded its serious consideration. In any case, Corinne was likely to inspect the list and accuse her of a lack of courage if she failed to keep to the plan.

  Did you choose the right man to marry?

  It was like a bomb dropped into the room and left everyone gasping for air. This was a question every woman thought about in secret and was afraid to answer. Now they were being asked to answer in public.

  “I’ll tackle this one, if you like.” Corinne sat up straight. A deep frown appeared between her eyes as she admitted she had thought long and hard about this when Carla’s marriage fell apart.

  “I think it’s a combination of factors leading to whoever you choose. The field may be narrow, especially if you decide to marry early. Your experience with the opposite sex is limited at best, so it’s a lottery.”

  “And don’t discount the overwhelming power of sexual attraction,” burst out Sandra. “All of those things make the choice very dangerous. Didn’t our mothers warn us about it?”

  Valerie jumped in with a different point of view. “What about all the numinous elements?”

  “The what?”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I’m talking about the things that are immeasurable, like the idea that opposites attract and the possibility that something within us knows what we will need before we do and, of course, the theory that it doesn’t matter who we choose anyway.”

  “Valerie Westwood! What’s got into you? Explain yourself.”

  “Well, I think it depends on whether you believe there is one perfect man for you. Do you?”

  Neither woman listening could ascribe to that theory. Defining the perfect partner would in itself be difficult and would require a kind of self-knowledge seldom available to the young women each of them had been when their marriage decisions were made.

  Corinne said she thought the supposed perfect man would vary according to the stage of marriage the woman had reached. “The husband I needed when the babies were small was not the one I would have chosen at the beginning.”

  “So, are you saying a woman needs several different men throughout her life? And do you think that applies to men as well?”

  “Sandra, you’ve really opened a can of worms there. I’ll bet this very subject is often mulled over in many a boozy male drinking establishment across the nation.”

  When the giggles stopped, Valerie returned to her question. “If it isn’t the perfect man, then does it matter which man you marry?”

  “Yes.”

  “No.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Look here, Val’s probably right. Whoever the man is and whoever the woman, marriage is a series of compromises. Sometimes it’s smooth sailing and other times it’s stormy seas. If a couple can’t deal with that they won’t last long.”

  “Is that what happened with Carla?”

  “I can’t answer you. I don’t know. She hasn’t been able to tell me with all the shouting I have been subjecting her to.” She glanced away as the truth of this impromptu response sunk in.

  Sandra had a puzzled look on her face. “But what happens when the couple drift apart; so far apart they lose each other altogether?”

  “Then it’s about communication, I guess,” offered Valerie. “The marriage experts say communication is the number one skill you need to have, but that is so easy to say and damn near impossible to achieve when the red flags are flying.”

  “Corinne, do you believe the old adage ‘never go to bed angry’?”

  “Ha! It sounds good, all right, but how many serious quarrels can be settled by bedtime? I call that papering over the cracks and the cracks would open up again pretty soon. It wouldn’t work with me and Arthur. With our schedules we are rarely in bed at the same time these days.”

  Corinne took a breath. She was getting hot in body and mind with this exchange between her and Sandra. She turned to Valerie to take the focus off herself.

  “You are asking the questions, Valerie, but not answering so much. What do you really think about this compatibility issue?”

  Valerie walked to the patio window where the view had darkened with the setting sun. Her answer was somewhat muffled, but clear enough to be heard by her listeners.

  “I agree with most of what you two have said. Marriage, whether long or short, is just as difficult today as it was back in our day. I don’t envy young people with all the demands of career and family combined with their greater expectations for immediate personal happiness.

  I am thinking about what Zoe told us. Her parents’ marriage had gone very wrong somewhere and the results were catastrophic. We can’t know, and neither did she, whether it was a lack of communication or a lack of compromise or a failure to meet each other’s needs in the bedroom. It’s a true saying that no one knows what goes on in another’s relationship.

  My own marriage must have looked good from the outside. Certainly it lasted a very long time. Was it always happy? No. The years when we were parents with very demanding careers and we had the two boys at home, were busy and difficult. Our holidays here in the Lakes were the only times we could really connect again in a meaningful way. It leaves a lot of months of lonely struggle in between.

  David’s illness brought us together again in a deeper way. He needed me as he had not needed me for years. It was a testing time for both of us. If I had to say what kept me by his side through the worst of it, I think it was a matter of loyalty. I could not have abandoned him to strangers. If nothing else, we had such a long shared history together and that creates a shorthand in communication. Who else could have known that when David’s left ear twitched he was hiding something?

  When all else falls away there is no one else in the whole world who knows you that well.”

  She remained by the window, her breath fogging on the glass. The hills directly ahead gradually lost all features. Trees, fields, houses, paths, rocks, succumbed to the darkness until there was only a black shape against the fading indigo of the eveni
ng sky. It was symbolic of the way her life with David had slowly come to its end. She was conscious that, in a few hours from now, God willing, the sun would bring colour back to this scene. She felt hope for a similar renewal in her life. Without a doubt this week had been a watershed.

  Answers? It was too early for those, but there was such comfort in the companionship of these friends.

  Behind her in the silence of the darkened room, Sandra felt again the anguish of knowing she had been oblivious to the suffering of her old friend. She had wasted months with trivial time-wasting activities when she could have been a support, even if at a distance.

  It was too late now. Shame filled her, not just for her neglect of Val, but also for the neglect she had imposed on her whole life.

  David had gone too soon. Who knew how much time was left to any one of them?

  She reached down into parts of herself long ignored. She was determined to take charge of her life again before it was too late.

  Corinne suddenly remembered tomorrow was her last day in this beautiful place. She was not sure what would happen when she returned home but she was sure it would be something different. This brief time apart from her ordinary existence had jolted her into a new world where things she had accepted as permanent, if not exactly productive of happiness, were seen in a fresh way. There was a lot of thinking to be done yet but she felt as if she must seize any opportunity to make things better for her family. This week had opened doors in her mind. Doors she was unwilling to close.

  It was all thanks to Valerie Westwood, the woman whose back she was now studying.

  Corinne picked up the paper Valerie had left on the coffee table. She scanned the remaining questions and saw several had already been dealt with in their discussion, but there was one question she felt would bring the evening, and the week, to a close with a more positive vibe.

  “Valerie, I am about to make a large pot of tea. Before we conclude this evening’s session can I ask if we all answer one last question from your list?

  Valerie turned and resumed her seat. “Of course we can. What’s the question?”

  What is your greatest desire?

  “That’s easy. I want to do better, and be better.” Sandra smiled at each of them.

  “I need to start over,” said Valerie with a nod to each friend.

  “I desire to never forget the lessons I have learned here and to value forever the events of this amazing week. All three exchanged a high-five at Corinne’s words.

  “Now let’s relax and drink tea!”

  Thirteen.

  Friday.

  Sandra wakened as soon as the morning light stole between the long curtains of their bedroom window.

  She glanced over at the twin bed where Valerie was still sleeping peacefully. The last thing she recalled from the night before was a quiet conversation they had shared in the dark. Valerie had told her the agenda for their final day and Sandra had been pleased to hear it was to be a local exploration.

  She felt full of energy and thought a swim in the pool would be a fine start to the day and significant of the changes she had decided to make.

  She knew where the pool key was so she slipped into her swimsuit in the bathroom, pulled slacks and a jumper over the top and stuffed underwear into the pockets. Towels were supplied at the pool. With any luck she would be back and ready for the day before the others awoke.

  Valerie heard the sound of the apartment door closing. She stretched and saw Sandra’s bed was empty.

  She did not make a move to get up. It was good to have a minute to gather her thoughts. So much had happened in a few short days. She mentally reviewed her aims and objectives for the holiday and found most had already been met or exceeded. There were many places the group had not seen and those castles, towns and climbs would have to wait for another occasion. She felt sure there would be another opportunity; if not in the Lake District, somewhere else.

  Her thoughts turned to Zoe and not for the first time. How was she getting on back in London in her own, familiar environment? Would she continue contact with them or put the incidents of this week behind her? It seemed likely she would find it easier to wipe it all from her mind, particularly the painful parts, but it was those parts that had released some of her anguish about Grace. More than once, Valerie had seen a shadow of Grace in Zoe’s face despite her greater resemblance to her father. In a way it was as if Grace had been looking down on them this week. She hoped so.

  She yawned widely and shifted mental gears. There were things to be done today. She must settle up with the office, pack her new bags, do some tidying and make use of the rest of this day. It should be memorable as well as a fitting conclusion to the week. Tomorrow she would set off early for the airport and the flight home to Canada.

  Corinne was padding around the bedroom looking at the clothes she had pulled out of the closets and spread over the spare bed. She was wondering if Valerie would donate her old suitcase to her so she could pack these new clothes. The hiking boots took up a lot of space as well as the gifts she had bought for Carla and Arthur. There was no way she would risk crushing the gorgeous satin skirt and top Zoe had chosen for her. It was laid over the pillows on the spare bed and she could not help admiring its beautiful green tones.

  The thought occurred to her that she might never wear such an item again. Where would she go in such an outfit? She dismissed the thought immediately. Negative thinking was to be banned from her future life. She would find, or create, a suitable event if necessary. Gone were the days when practical, washable work clothes were all she ever wore. This dress was the good omen she needed to remind her there was more to life than work and worry.

  She had been awake for hours, sitting on the bed and watching the dawn light transform the hills. She had never closed these drapes after Zoe left. It was such a treat to move around a bedroom knowing she was free from the prying eyes of neighbours. She had fallen asleep with moonlight and starshine instead. As far as she was concerned, anyone who was out on those hills with binoculars was very welcome to all they might see of her through the windows. It was freeing to have the time to relish the beginning of a day without the pressures of having to do so much in a short time before work or the need to close out the day and get much-needed sleep after nightshift. She had often thought it was a vampire existence not suited for human beings.

  The sun was well up now. She had moved around quietly hoping not to disturb her companions.

  She decided to squeeze every last ounce of joy out of this final day. There would be no sad farewells from Corinne Carstairs.

  Valerie returned from the office with a letter in her hand. “Look at this you two! It’s an actual hand-written letter from Zoe. Can you believe it in these days of text and e mails?”

  Corinne and Sandra looked up from their coffee cups and waved Valerie out to the balcony where they were discussing the ever-entertaining view.

  “So what does it say, Val? It must be important to make a busy business woman take time to put pen to paper. And I see it’s a Courier delivery. Very important then!”

  She carefully removed the single sheet of letter-headed paper from the envelope and proceeded to read it aloud. There could be nothing in it that would be a surprise to any of them after all they had heard this week.

  Dear Aunt Valerie ,

  I did not want Suzanne to write this for me. It’s too personal.

  You will be interested to know she has said repeatedly that my holiday has done me a lot of good and it was long overdue. I can’t argue with any of that but she has no idea yet exactly how much good it has done.

  There is no possible way to thank you enough. I extend this to both Sandra and Corinne, of course. It was a combined effort of kindness and concern that has enabled me to come this far so soon.

  I will start by saying I have found a good therapist and he is keeping me centred.

  I am seeing my life through new eyes now and the changes are coming fast.

  Bla
ckwell showed me how cold and impersonal my loft apartment is. I am looking for a move to somewhere with a view and a warmer vibe.

  My makeover session with you reminded me how much I enjoyed the personal contact with customers. I plan to revitalise that department and coach my staff on the importance of catering to a more mature client.

  Suzanne supports my shorter work day and she is guarding my agenda like a hawk.

  I have done some online clothes shopping and there are a few more colours appearing.

  Best of all, I now have a purple streak in my hair, although it is only evident when I wear my hair pinned back with a clasp. Evening occasions only.

  There’s a long way to go, of course, but I hope you will approve of the first steps.

  Please keep in touch and keep me honest.

  Forever yours, Zoe Morton.

  “Oh my God! It’s a love letter, Val!”

  All three were wiping tears from their eyes. They exclaimed at the detail, the speed and the transformations they were hearing about. They had to ask themselves how long it had been since Zoe left.

  “It’s no wonder she’s such a success in business. She’s a whirlwind when she gets going.”

  Valerie looked at Sandra. “We have to support her, Sandy. She’s right about the hard road ahead. I will have to depend on you since I am so far away but I will do everything I can so she knows she will never be alone again.

  “I know I am not as close to Zoe as you two are but I am still willing to step in when needed and I am nearer to London than either of you.”

  “Of course you are, Corinne! I didn’t mean to exclude you from this. Any help you can give will be much appreciated. Your medical knowledge could be helpful. She has a lot of trauma to deal with.”

  Corinne looked down for a moment. She wanted to keep her eyes concealed in case they revealed something she had not confessed to the others, or to anyone. For a short period, several years ago, she had been unfaithful to Arthur with a young student doctor at the hospital. Because of this she had a connection to Zoe that could be crucial when the subject of her father’s adultery had to be dealt with in therapy.