Not What it Seems

by Pamela Fudge

  I was still young, barely forty-five, with my whole life in front of me. I’d been working towards this moment since the day Kevin and I had married, though I’d been happy to put my dreams on hold while we raised the family we both wanted.

  Ok, it hadn’t quite worked out the way I had expected. I had ended up bringing up not one but two families, with the man who had been little more than a stranger when we hatched our plan, but had quickly become my best friend in the world. Now it was time for Owen and me to go our separate ways – just as we had always known and accepted that, one day, we would.

  I dried my tears and drove on, refusing to dwell on the fact that I had expected to spend my middle age – and old age, come to that – with Kevin and not on my own. After all, I didn’t have to remind myself that Owen had visualised a very different future, too.

  Life happens, I reminded myself severely, and you have to work with the hand that you’ve been dealt.

  My spirits lifted the minute I drove through the open gates of my new home. Parking space for just two cars at a push, the driveway tarmac rather than brick paving, but here pretty shrubs grew against the fences of my very own boundary.

  The key slid easily into the lock and turned. Silence enveloped me as I stepped inside and stood for a moment, looking around me, enjoying those first moments of real ownership and marvelling at how neat and tidy everything was already. A place for everything and everything in its place as the saying went.

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘Connor, don’t do that to me.’ I placed a trembling hand to my heart and laughed shakily. ‘I thought everyone had gone.’

  ‘Everyone, but me, Mum.’ He pulled a hand from behind his back and held out a bunch of flowers. ‘Only from the Tesco Express down the road, but I know you like yellow flowers.’

  ‘That is sweet of you, love,’ I said, reaching out to take them. ‘Time for a cup of tea, or do you need to get off.’

  ‘We-ell.’

  ‘You go. You’ve got plans for this evening haven’t you?’ I remembered, ‘and you have that drive in front of you yet. Where’s your car, it’s not in the drive.’

  ‘No, I parked it up the road because of the removal van. Not much room in a cul-de-sac is there? Will you be…?’

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ I told him firmly, then sobbed into the bunch of brightly coloured chrysanthemums as I watched my tall, fair-haired son walk away and wondered what the hell was wrong with me.

  I put the flowers in water, boiled the kettle and made tea, then left it to go cold as I moved from room to room and tried to familiarise myself with my new home. It was exactly what I had visualised, two bedrooms at the front of the property, with a loft extension providing a third – though in this case the room would be my office, den, study. Call it what you will.

  Unlike the house I’d left - which had needed so much to be done to it when we moved in - once the furniture was in, this bungalow was ready to live in. I viewed it with a critical eye. Owen and I had shared everything scrupulously and let the children take whatever they wanted so it was looking a bit sparse in places.

  The plain cream walls cried out for pictures, some pretty cushions should be scattered around, a few framed photos and perhaps a few tasteful ornaments, too, would make it feel more like home. Being more used to curtains, I wasn’t sure what I felt about the vertical blinds, but knew I would probably grow used to them and shouldn’t rush into making expensive changes.

  What I did like very much was the open plan kitchen, dining and sitting room with French doors that opened onto the small rear garden. I went back in there, sipped the lukewarm tea and grimaced before pouring it away down the sink and flicking the switch to boil the kettle again.

  I had wandered outside, and was reminding myself that it was the wrong time of year to be thinking about garden furniture, despite the unseasonably warm weather, when I heard my mobile ring.

  ‘Mai,’ I said, delighted to hear from my youngest daughter. ‘How are you? How is the course going?’

  ‘It’s fantastic, Mum.’ She sounded bright and happy. ‘The midwifery tutors are lovely and we’ve already formed into quite close groups according to our clinical placement areas. We’ll be out on community from next week.’

  ‘So soon, are you looking forward to it?’

  ‘Oh, yes, and… But that’s enough about me. What about you? Are you in?’

  ‘I am,’ I said proudly, ‘and pretty well straight already. Connor helped - and Ella.’ Ella was Owen’s daughter, and she and Mai had bonded very quickly as children, with only the one year between their ages.

  ‘Oh, good, she did promise she would try. No sign of Alice then?’

  ‘Well, she’s really upset, you know,’ I excused my eldest daughter.

  ‘That’s Alice, always thinking of herself,’ Mai said, shortly and then hurried on, ‘She wants to be thinking about things from your point of view for a change, and remember the huge sacrifice you and Owen made for us all those years ago. I still can’t believe everything’s happened so fast, though,’ she sounded impressed. ‘You two didn’t hang about, did you, once I was off your hands - and that’s not a criticism,’ she hastened to add before I could say a word, ‘Connor and I were saying how much you deserve this new start after all you’ve done for us.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It was always difficult for my friends to believe you and Owen weren’t what you would call a ‘proper’ couple, because you always got on so well together - better than most of their parents if they were to be believed. I had to keep saying, “It’s not what is seems, you know”.’

  ‘I know,’ I said ruefully, ‘I’ve spend the last fifteen years saying the same.’ I shrugged, though I knew Mai couldn’t see me, ‘People will believe what they want to anyway, in my experience. We all knew the truth.’

  ‘Did you never, in all that time, ever think it might become the real thing?’ Mai asked the question they had probably all wondered at one time or another, but I could tell from her tone that she hesitated to pry.

  ‘No.’ The word was firm. ‘We were and are just good friends - nothing more and nothing less and, after all these years that isn’t about to change.’

  I thought I heard her say, ‘Pity,’ very quietly, but I could have been mistaken.

  The thought, once it had been put in my mind, wouldn’t seem to go away. I ate cheese on toast while flicking through TV channels, made a grocery list and then another list of items I wanted to buy for the bungalow, but – probably because of Mai’s comments - Owen’s face kept popping up in front of me.

  It was actually a very nice face, as I already knew, and I had no idea why I didn’t fancy him, but I never had and that was nothing but the truth. Yet he had all the attributes I’d have looked for in a man. Tall, fair-haired, fit, always tanned from working outside a lot of the time, better looking than the majority of the men that I knew, he was also a really lovely guy, funny and pretty placid, too. Well, he’d have had to be to share a house all those years with five children of a similar age and me.

  But, no, there was nothing. My heart had never once skipped a beat, and whether he was wrapped only in a towel after his shower, or he was dressed up in his best suit, it made no difference.

  Living in such close proximity, he’d seen me at my best and worst, too. He’d often brought me a cup of tea in bed in the mornings – and, boy, was I going to miss that, I realised with a sudden pang of regret – nursed me through more than one bad dose of flu and even helped me to highlight my hair a time or two. He’d zip me into a dress and then stand back and tell me I looked nice, but there was no real gleam in his blue eyes that might hint of anything more than fondness. I’m not sure what I would have done if there had been, because it wouldn’t have been reciprocated.

  We’d each had our share of dates over the years, but in the end they seemed to be more trouble than they were worth, especially when it came to explaining our relationship and living arrangements. I never met one
guy who didn’t look askance at me, as if I would lie about something so important.

  In the end, our social life centred round our growing children and the friends who knew and accepted us just as we were. We actually were a couple, of sorts, but without all the complications that reared their ugly heads whenever sex was involved.

  The more I thought about it, the more I realised how very lucky we had been. All our energies over the years had been able to go into rearing the children and it had been a truly wonderful time – especially because we both so appreciated the security our arrangement had given us at a vulnerable time in our lives when we had so badly needed it.

  I shook myself mentally and reminded myself that all good things came to an end. The children were a credit to us, each following the career path they had chosen and as well balanced as any youngsters I had ever met. Our work was done and it really was time for a change.

  Chapter Three

  I slept fitfully, feeling unexpectedly lonely. I’d not actually shared a bed with a man since Kevin, but had always felt secure in the knowledge that Owen was only just across the landing.

  Many was the night that a fretful child had woken us both and, while one comforted, soothed and re-settled, the other had been downstairs making tea. It felt really strange knowing that I was completely alone for probably the first time in my life.

  I didn’t feel nervous exactly - though I had carefully double-checked all the doors and windows before I went to bed - just a bit odd. Going, in quite a short time, from a large house heaving with people, to a small bungalow with only me in it was a huge step. I was sure I would soon get used to it, but was still glad when morning came.

  I ate cheese on toast again for breakfast because all there was in the house was bread, milk, cheese, and tea bags. Not even any butter. What on earth had I been thinking? I realised I had been a bit too quick in encouraging Owen to take the majority of the groceries from home.

  No, I corrected myself swiftly this is your home now.

  I wasn’t about to starve. I had plenty of time to go shopping. It was half term so I had no teaching commitments. The sun shone on a beautiful October day and barefoot I wandered outside onto the decking with a slice of cheese on toast in one hand and a mug of tea in the other.

  I could actually feel my spirits lifting as I pictured the table and chairs I would buy in the spring and be able to enjoy in the summer. The hedges gave absolute privacy, so I would be able to sit out here, undisturbed, working on my laptop on sunny days or with a glass of chilled wine and a good book on warm evenings.

  I jumped then as I noticed a little black thing – obviously an animal of some sort - in the corner of the garden and stared at it fascinated. It was the size of a cat, but didn’t look much like one. It had a pretty face, quite fox-like, and was very fluffy.

  ‘Hello,’ I said, ‘who are you?’

  It barked then, so apparently it was a dog, though I’d never seen one quite like it before.

  ‘Gizzie, Gizzie,’ the voice filtering through the hedge was a man’s and sounded quite elderly.

  ‘Hello,’ I said again in the general direction of the voice. ‘If you’re looking for your dog, I think I’ve found him.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry, he’s found his way through again. He’s looking for Winnie. She used to feed him tit-bits.’

  ‘Shall I bring him round?’ I asked.

  ‘Oooh, no,’ he said hastily, ‘don’t touch him. Gizmo doesn’t know you and might well nip if you try and pick him up. I’ll come and get him.’

  I went to unbolt the side gate and waited for my neighbour to reach me. First impression was of a gentleman in his seventies, very upright and quite slight of build. A bright smile lit his lined face, and as he got closer I detected a real twinkle in the brightest pair of blue eyes.

  ‘Arthur,’ he said, seizing my hand in a firm grip.

  Evelyn,’ I returned, adding, ‘Evie to my friends. Excuse my undressed state,’ I indicated the long dressing gown and bare feet. ‘I haven’t been up very long.’

  ‘I won’t hold you up,’ he promised, ‘just catch my dog and go.’

  It quickly became apparent that Gizmo had no intention of being caught as he led his elderly owner a merry dance, prancing away the minute he got anywhere close.

  ‘Little varmint.’

  I suspected Arthur was using stronger language under his breath, and hid a smile.

  ‘Why don’t I make a pot of tea and give you a chance to catch your breath before you have another go at catching your dog?’ I offered, feeling all this ducking and diving wasn’t good for a man of his advanced years. ‘Gizmo obviously thinks you’re playing with him and he might just come to you on his own if you leave him alone.’

  Arthur sank down on a low garden wall, so I took that as a yes and went inside to put the kettle on and while it was boiling I went back to say, ‘I can offer you cheese on toast, but nothing else, unfortunately, because bread and cheese are all I have.’

  From the pleased look on his face you’d have thought I’d offered a banquet and Arthur accepted that and my offer to step inside with alacrity. Sitting at the dining table he looked around.

  ‘My,’ he sounded impressed, ‘I can’t believe the change in the place.’

  ‘How do you mean? The way it looks with different furniture?’

  I put the tray on the table and took the seat opposite my first visitor. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a little black face peering in through the door, and drew Arthur’s attention to it.

  ‘Yes, I expect he’ll come right in, by and by, if we ignore him.’ He looked around again, before explaining, ‘Winnie’s son went to town on this place when his mum went into the nursing home, built that extension at the end there.’ He indicated the sitting room that continued on from the dining room. ‘Made another room up in the loft and generally spruced the place up. If you want to see how it used to look you can take a look at mine some time.’

  Gizmo had come right inside by this time and was looking at me quizzically. I held out my hand and he sniffed my fingers cautiously and then the tail I hadn’t noticed curled along the dog’s back began to wag and a tiny pink tongue came out to lick my fingers.

  ‘Give him a wee bit of that cheese and you’ll have a friend for life,’ Arthur advised.

  I did as I was bid and asked,’ What kind of dog is he? I don’t think I’ve ever seen one quite like it.’

  ‘A Pomeranian,’ the old man said, adding knowledgeably, ‘they were bred down in size from the German Spitz for Queen Victoria to have as lap dogs apparently.’ He screwed up his nose. ‘Not a man’s dog really, but he belonged to my late wife and she thought the world of him. He’s company.’

  ‘How long have you been on your own?’

  ‘Two years and I still miss her every day. You’re on your own, are you?’

  ‘Yes, but from choice.’ I realised that sounded a bit harsh and felt obliged to explain. I hadn’t meant to go into detail, but before I knew it my complicated previous living arrangements had come tumbling out. Bless Arthur, he didn’t even blink, but took everything I said at face value.

  ‘Sounds as if you both took the common sense approach and solved all of your immediate problems in one fell swoop,’ he said, ‘and did a lot better than those who fall in and out of love and swap partners so often that the kiddies don’t know where they are.’

  I beamed at him, because he was about the only person I’d ever met who’d seen only the benefits of our arrangement and didn’t just jump in to criticise. I found myself offering, ‘More cheese on toast?’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do,’ he said, pushing his plate forward. Gizmo had settled next to his feet under the table by this time and was sound asleep with his nose resting on his little paws.

  ‘Have you lived here long?’

  ‘Most of our married life – sixty years we celebrated just before Rose passed on.’

  ‘Sixty?’ I was incredulous. ‘Do you mind me asking how old yo
u are, Arthur?’

  ‘I’ll be eighty-eight next birthday.’

  ‘Good grief,’ I exclaimed, ‘I’d have taken at least ten years off – especially the way you were chasing Gizmo around that garden.’

  ‘Bless you.’ He looked pleased. ‘Our son is fifty-nine. He lives in Australia with his family.’

  ‘That’s where my family live, too, my mum, dad and two sisters. They emigrated and I stayed behind because I was getting married. I don’t have a lot to do with them, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It’s easier for me since the couple the other side of you helped me to get onto Skype, before that I kept in touch through email.

  ‘A silver surfer,’ I exclaimed, impressed.

  ‘I had to go off and buy a computer and then join a class to learn how to use it.’ Arthur tucked into the fresh slice of cheese on toast and I had put in front of him and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. ‘But as I told Rose, we had to move with the times. She had no interest at all, though she always read Ronnie’s emails once I’d printed them up. It broke her heart when he emigrated and I know she found it difficult to accept he had his own life to live.’

  ‘You’re way in front of some of my students,’ I told him, explaining, ‘I teach creative writing to adult learners and some of them are still under the impression that publishers will happily read hand-written manuscripts.’

  ‘You’re a writer?’

  ‘Mmm, mainly of text-books and articles on office procedure, which did quite well. I was an office manager, you see, before I married. I could work from home and it fitted in well when the children were small and gave me an income, but I was always interested in writing fiction. Eventually I tried my hand at that as well and have had some success with the short stories I’ve written for magazines over the years. My plan, now that I have only me to worry about, is to write a novel.’ There, I had said it out loud and Arthur didn’t even laugh at my lofty ambition. I found I was becoming fonder of him by the minute.