by Ruth Hay
So enjoyed our time together, Ian. Let’s do it again. Keep in touch.
It was signed: Deborah.
It felt like a cold hand clutching her heart. Her confidence fled. This was the nightmare she had dreaded.
Deborah sounded like a smart, young, single, executive type, full of savoir faire and interesting conversation. How could mousy little Sandy compete with that?
She almost threw herself into bed and pulled the covers over her head but a vision of Zoe’s and Val’s expressions if she dared to back down now, stopped her from retreating.
She would stick to her plan. She had nothing to be ashamed of. Let Ian confess if he had crossed the line and soiled their marriage vows.
Round Two commenced in the kitchen, for which Sandra was pleased. The kitchen was her domain. Every pot, pan, plate and spice jar was placed for her convenience. She was in charge of it all. Her husband rarely entered and never argued if a new appliance or device was required to produce the meals that filled the house with delicious fragrances. He said he appreciated familiar home cooking after the unrecognizable concoctions often supplied by hotel restaurants.
Sandra did not look directly at her husband. She lifted his empty plate and rinsed it, then started the coffee maker and took out two favourite mugs, cream, and the brown sugar cubes Ian preferred. These simple actions served to calm her heart and prepare her for what would come next.
Ian sat at the island and could not believe what he was seeing. Sandra had emerged from the bedroom transformed. She looked fashionable in clothes he had never before seen. She was wearing a bright lipstick and her eyes were sparkling and her hair that had been straggling around her face when he had tackled her in the garden, was now swept up in a neat coil with delicate curls framing her rosy cheeks.
He was unable to comprehend what was happening. This was too much to absorb all at once.
He cleared his throat and asked the obvious preliminary questions.
“So, how was your holiday in the Lakes? Did you have a good time?”
“Possibly not as good a time as you had.” Sandra could hear the sarcasm in her voice but she had not been able to stifle the reply.
“What does that mean? You know what these business trips are like; boring but necessary.”
“Well, someone didn’t think it was so boring.” She threw the card down on the countertop between them as if it were rejecting a poisonous snake whose venom was already invading her peace of mind.
“What’s this?”
“I am hoping you can tell me, Ian.”
He turned the card over and read the message. “I have never seen this before, Sandy.”
“It fell out of your pocket just minutes ago. Are you saying it’s not yours?”
“No. I am saying I didn’t put it there but I know who did.”
“Oh, that would be Deborah! A new friend, or an old one?”
“That’s enough, Sandy. You know how I feel about men who fool around. She’s just a business contact who must have slipped the card into my pocket last night when we had a drink in the hotel.”
As he spoke, Ian quickly adjusted his reply to avoid incriminating details such as where this encounter had taken place and how the woman had access to his pockets without his knowledge. His wife was already in a sufficiently suspicious frame of mind without adding more fuel to the flame.
Damn that Deborah! I should have been more careful.
A wave of relief passed over Sandra as she recognized the sincerity in her husband’s voice. He had always been honest with her. She had no real reason to doubt that now. She would give him the benefit of the doubt and move on. At the end of Round Two she was going forward with the advantage on her side.
“Now that’s settled, please answer the question. How was your holiday and how were Val and Corinne?” A swift change of subject seemed to Ian to be the safest way forward.
Sandra was happy to leave the difficult topic of infidelity behind her so she launched into an animated account of what a wonderful time she had with her friends, including an edited version of Zoe’s unexpected arrival and participation.
Over a cup of good coffee they mended bridges as couples do. The difference this time was how Ian was watching as his wife blossomed before his eyes. Her enthusiasm was obvious in her face and every line of her body. It struck him how often she had listened to his war stories without much to add and now he was the silent observer as Sandra outlined a time in her life that clearly had far more impact on her than a mere seven day trip. He wondered why he had not thought to take his wife on a river cruise or an extended vacation somewhere exotic. If the result was this newly-enthused person, he should certainly have done it before this. The results were electrifying. It was as if a new, desirable female had pushed aside the tired woman he used to know. He gave her his full attention, especially when her account veered into the area of future plans.
Round Three, the knockout round, was in progress.
Evidence of Ian’s interest in her plans came when he suggested they go out for lunch in a favourite restaurant. This was a departure from their usual pattern. Eating lunch out on a Monday was unlikely. On most Mondays Sandra had the care of Joanne’s two pre-school boys and she was tired by the end of the day. Ian knew to bring home some take-out food and let his wife recover in silence in front of the television.
Today was not like that in any way. They drove into town and settled on a favourite little Italian place off George Square that gave them a table by the window where they could see and be seen. Ian noticed the admiring glances of the owner as he seated them and took their order. He was almost sure the man had thought he was out with a different woman and not his wife.
Ian felt his chest expand at the implied compliment. Certainly, Sandra looked amazing. She had changed into a new pair of shoes with heels and carried a smart-looking purse that matched her outfit. If anything, she was even more vibrant than she had been at home and it was not only her appearance. She had a carriage and confidence he had not seen since they were a young couple together.
Sitting here in town he could not avoid the memory of their first encounter so long ago. Sandra was a young teacher in a school in the East end. Camlachie was an old Victorian building with an itinerant child population that came and went as their parents’ caravans toured the country’s fairs and showgrounds and settled in a nearby large enclosure for the winter months. From her accounts, this student body was not like normal school kids. Some were far behind in formal subjects and did not care about it. Others were spoiled sons or daughters who knew their adult lives would not require educational qualifications. These cared even less about tests and exams but they loved the young teacher in her first job and tried to behave well for her.
All this was told later to Ian over many months. Their first encounter was in Lewis’ on Argyle Street.
He had taken a lunch break and rushed down from the City Chambers to find a tie suitable for a formal occasion in the elegant ballroom. Sandra was on her Friday lunch hour treat of stealing a few minutes away from the school atmosphere. She had hopped on a bus and rolled along Gallowgate to Lewis’ big store for a few minutes pretending she was a housewife with money in her pockets and time to browse the delights of a major retailer.
They literally bumped into each other on the down escalator. Ian was checking the contents of his paper carrier bag to see the effect of daylight on the two ties he had selected. Conscious of the time, he was rapidly stepping downward and barrelled right into the young woman in front of him causing her to drop her purse and scatter its contents on the moving stairs. A few moments of panic occupied both of them as they scrambled to recover a variety of objects before they vanished into the depths of the mechanism. They bumped heads and hands but managed to grab up keys, a compact and a few female items Ian did not recognize, jumping free of the last step at the very last minute and staggering out into the store’s entranceway together.
His apologies were sincere and profuse an
d at first she was busy brushing down her coat, reclaiming her property and muttering under her breath about careless men who should know better.
When at last she looked up at him, he saw a lovely face beneath a mop of fair, curly hair and his heart turned over.
“Are you rushing off somewhere? I really feel I owe you a coffee or something for my stupidity.”
“I have to get back to school before the bell but there’s no harm done. Don’t worry yourself about it.”
She had a soft voice that spoke of the Highlands rather than the harsh accents of Glasgow Centre.
He was reluctant to let her go out of his ken forever and risked rejection by reaching out to touch her arm saying, “Here’s my card. Please get in touch if there’s anything missing. I do apologize. Where do you teach?”
“Oh, I’m at Camlachie Primary School along Gallowgate there, and they’ll be looking for me very soon. Goodbye then.”
She turned away and ran for the nearest bus stop with curls bobbing and her handbag bumping on her slim waist. He watched until she had jumped onto a bus and vanished.
He thought it strange, as he watched the hurrying crowds pass the restaurant windows, that a business card that had caused trouble today had been the link to bring them together so many years ago.
“So, this is what I’ve been thinking, Ian. I know these are just rough outlines and I will need your help to do any of it, but I think it’s a feasible idea.”
He dragged his wandering mind back to the present and his wife’s urgent appeal. She had been talking all through the pasta course while his attention was distracted. Now he needed to respond.
“Let me see if I’ve got the gist of your plan. You want to run a daycare business out of our home?
Where did this come from, Sandy? You’ve never shown any interest in such a thing before.”
“Well, of course, I have looked after Joanne’s two since they were born and Sharon drops off Adam when there’s a Teacher Training Day at his school. Both of the girls say there’s a dire lack of childcare available in their areas and they have often asked if I want to take on more children.”
“But I don’t understand how you could handle more kids. Don’t you feel tired out after a day with ours, never mind adding more? And there are city bylaws about this kind of thing. You would have to meet a number of standards of care before you could think of starting a business.”
“That’s where you come in, Ian. I want you to get me a list of city ordinances so we can see what needs to be done. I can easily take a Child Care Certificate to add to my teaching experience and I’ve been looking over our property with an eye to alterations. If this was a viable business, earning money, I would be totally onside with it.”
Two conflicting emotions attacked Ian’s practical mind. Getting Sandra’s additional qualifications would delay any immediate action and if construction work was going to be needed, it was going to be expensive.
“Sandra, darling, have you really thought this through? It seems like a sudden impulse. I commend your enthusiasm, of course, but maybe you should wait a while and ……….”
“That’s the whole point, Ian. I’ve been doing nothing else but waiting. I realize now I’ve wasted years waiting for something to happen to jumpstart my life again. And now it has. I came back from the Lake District with new eyes and fresh ideas. I really thought about what I wanted to do and I remembered how I loved working with little kids. All I need is the right facilities and a good structure for the day.
I know all about that part. It’s what teachers do every day. And then I saw how the shed at the bottom of the garden could be enlarged to provide storage and play space. The garden itself is big enough for several activities and the conservatory is perfect for naps and wet day play. Your office downstairs can be altered to create new bathrooms and my kitchen is perfect for lunches and snacks. Rachel could do her nursing co-op training with me in the summer and then there’s………….” her voice tailed off as she saw the horrified look on her husband’s face. Of course she was moving too fast. These ideas that had solidified for her so rapidly were coming at him at a pace he could not handle.
She stopped and took a deep breath.
“Look, Ian, I know this is a lot to take in all at once. Let’s not spoil this lovely lunch. We can talk about it tomorrow. We can go home and relax now.”
She moved her hand under the tablecloth and stroked her husband’s thigh.
“I’ve missed you, you know,” she whispered.
It was a promise. The kind that guaranteed there would be no more negative talk this evening.
With a smile, Sandra Halder delivered the knockout blow. It was legitimate to use female wiles once in a while and if she was going to walk back to the car in these heels and this tight skirt, it had better be for a good cause.
Four.
Tuesday.
Corinne Carstairs had reached the limit of her patience. For two days she had tried to talk sense into Carla. She had even listened to Arthur as he attempted for the fourth time to explain their daughter’s point of view.
“I know you can’t fathom what she was thinking when she left Brad, Love. I get it. When you’ve been in a long marriage, I could say a long and difficult marriage, like ours maybe, it seems unfair for her to quit the whole thing so soon in the game, but……”
“There’s always a ‘but’ with you, Arthur, that’s the part I don’t get. How come you can make excuses for our daughter when her mother is farther than ever from any clue as to how she thinks in that mind of hers. Honestly, I came back from an amazing holiday with good friends with a new attitude, ready to compromise or whatever it took to get Carla back on track but things seem to be worse than they were before I left. Tell me, what am I doing wrong?”
Arthur put aside his walking stick and stroked his wife’s back. He could feel the tension that had been growing since she returned from the Lake District to rain storms and a sudden emergency call from the hospital throwing her back into the fray there before she was ready.
They were seated in the kitchen looking out the window at a rain-soaked back yard. The barbecue he had planned was not going to happen and the weather inside the house was no better.
“Look, Love, I was hoping Carla would tell you this herself but that isn’t likely. She’s staying away these days and we can only hope it isn’t with the boyfriend.”
Corinne tensed up even more at this. The line between her eyebrows deepened and Arthur knew it was time to tell her the rest of the story.
“Whatever you know, Arthur, tell me whatever it is. Please just tell me!”
He sat down heavily in the kitchen chair and pulled a cushion into place to protect his hip. This was going to be a difficult conversation and it could be lengthy. He glanced at the wall clock. Two hours before she had to leave for her shift at the hospital. Two hours.
“Right! While you were away I met Brad in the pub and we had a long talk.”
“Wait! I thought you didn’t like Brad. Why would you want to talk to him?”
“Just listen, Corinne. Sometimes you have to go right to the horse’s mouth and I felt I had no other option but to get at his version of the truth. “
She nodded and gave him her full attention. Brad’s opinion had not figured in her own assessment of the situation.
“So, we had a drink or two and I went right to the point and asked the boy what went wrong. He said it was nothing to do with him. They got back from the honeymoon and he thought everything was good. He went back to work and Carla started full-time at the dress shop. He helped at home with meals and cleaning and that, and she seemed a bit down but he reckoned it was about the big change from all the attention she got at the wedding and the honeymoon. He tried to cheer her up but it just got worse until she was acting as if she was depressed or something.”
“Did he ask her what was wrong?” Corinne was shifting around in her seat with impatience.
“Lovey, you know how difficult it
is to get information out of Carla. She shuts up tight as a clam when she’s in trouble. A bit like her mother, you think?”
“I know. I know. Go on with the story.”
“Brad’s thinks it’s way deeper than a surface thing. He says she hates the shop and doesn’t much like their small flat. She says wants more out of life.”
Corinne cast her eyes up to the ceiling in disgust. Every line of her body expressed the frustration she was feeling at her daughter’s feeble excuses. She had said it all over and over. There was no point in repeating it again and interrupting what had been the first new development in the Carla saga.
“How does Brad feel about this?”
“I was getting to that part. You got to give the kid credit, Corinne. He really loves our girl in spite of everything. He wants her back and he will wait for her but he has no idea about any boyfriend, if that’s what the letter you saw means.”
“I suppose it could have been a red herring, but nothing you’ve told me explains Carla’s behaviour.
Why is she depressed ? Why has she given up on her wedding vows? Why is she so impatient? Every marriage starts out with very little. It takes years of saving and struggling to get that bigger flat and the better job. She knows how we had to struggle, Arthur. What am I missing in this picture?”
Arthur looked out of the window at the relentless rain. He had spent hours with Carla trying to get to the bottom of her problem. She had refused to ever talk to her mother again saying she would not understand, she never did understand.
The best he could figure was that Carla felt rushed into marriage before she was ready. She insisted Brad was a good guy and she was sorry to put him in this position. She said she was too unhappy to stay with him.
Arthur knew it was useless to repeat this to his wife. It would just fire her up for no good purpose.
“Look, Honey! Carla’s not going to tell either of us and getting angry with her is getting us nowhere. We know our girl better than anyone else. Is there something in her growing up years to show us what the trouble is? What was the thing she loved most when she was at school or even earlier than that? Who was she really when she was just our kid and too little to hide much from us?”
