‘I don’t see what you’re getting at.’
‘I’m sure you can work out what the “empty town” feeling is; you’re a doctor!’
‘Maybe, but it’s what it means to you that counts.’
I ate some of the food, then went on: ‘I suppose it has to do with fear and wanting to be safe. I’m not saying I don’t feel safe with you. Please don’t think that. It’s just that I feel I have to go with what … oh, I don’t know how to explain it. All I know is it’s got something to do with protecting myself in a world where, as I said before, Max, everything changes, everything ends.’
It would have been too strange to talk to him, of all people, about black waves and white doors. After all, he wasn’t my doctor and I wasn’t about to submit to analysis. Sitting next to him on that old sofa felt right. I could not deny that, but then came the fear. We finished our meal in silence.
I felt a sudden impulse, even after trying to explain: ‘I wish I could … I wish we were going away together,’ I said cautiously.
‘Oh, come with me then, Vee,’ he said softly, as we kissed. ‘Come with me to Edinburgh. I think I’m in –.’
‘ – Ssshh … don’t … don’t say it Max, please. I know.’
So he’d entered her life. He had no complaints about the way she’d told the story so far, but he hadn’t yet found out what really happened in her next job, because they didn’t see each other again after that evening; they simply went their separate ways. He had hoped she might come to the station to see him off. They spoke on the phone a couple of times, but they were not relaxed and things soon drifted.
Now he would hand this chapter to Helen, wondering how she would react to seeing him with Vee, who was about to start her new job. On with the story.
«Les plaies du coeur guérissent mal.
Souventes fois même, salut!
Elles ne se referment plus.»
GEORGES BRASSENS
10
Arnold College
‘Are we still on for tonight?’ I asked.
Patrick and I walked down the stairs together from the staffroom. Boys were not allowed upstairs, so they gathered in the foyer below to ask their questions or make their excuses when staff appeared.
‘Yes, Vee. Come round about six.’ Father Patrick Collins, the school chaplain, had taken me under his wing, it seemed.
‘Sir, sir!’
‘Bit late for homework now, isn’t it, Perkins?’ Patrick held the door open for me as I had a pile of books. Most of the men at Arnold College were considerate, but a few thought I was invading a male bastion. Though with Sixth Form girls now, they had to start appointing female staff; once again I was a pioneer, as I had been by going to university.
The classes here were larger and the marking took longer; that old feeling of inadequacy was stalking me, bringing back uncomfortable memories of my first school. But Thursday evenings at Patrick’s lightened the atmosphere and also stopped me thinking too much about Max.
Patrick had a First from Cambridge and was also an expert cook. He had styled himself Father: he was not a Catholic. His flat was attached to one of the boarding houses, so I think my visits sparked some gossip among the boys. I walked into his white kitchen that evening.
‘Hey! You’ll never guess what Johnson came out with today!’
‘Well, obviously not, so you’re going to have to tell me.’ He had a great line in playful sarcasm. His warm baritone and the stress he put on certain syllables, to the point of drawling, made his comments ring with irony and affection. The wine helped, too. I began chopping up some mushrooms for the sauce he was stirring. ‘Well, go on then, tell me!’
I laughed. ‘We were translating something into French and we needed to say, “I am back.”‘
Patrick put down his spoon, beckoned for me to add the mushrooms, then faced me, his hands braced on the worktop in mock suspense. ‘Oh, God! I think I know what’s coming!’ He grimaced, removing his glasses and keeping just one eye open. ‘Please put me out of my misery!’
I could hardly speak for laughing. ‘He said, “je suis dos”!’
Patrick howled. ‘I knew it! I knew it!’
This was our shared passion: words. Puns, jokes, dreadful translationese like this were everyday fare. Sometimes I think he made them up just for my benefit. He taught some Spanish but spoke fluent French as well, and his mediterranean appearance allowed him to pass as a native when he visited Spain every summer. I recognised the special look in his eyes for me, but it was all too often concealed by an actor’s façade. There was a light which would vanish when noticed, leaving a touch of sadness as he looked away. He was proud to show me off when we ate at our favourite Indian restaurant, and he would take delight in teasing me in public, laughing at my red cheeks. At other times he could be very serious, even frosty, and our moods didn’t always match up. And he never forgot he was a celibate priest.
Max was still on my mind although I hadn’t spoken to him for a couple of weeks, but the fresh air Patrick brought into my life made Diane’s party and the weeks with Max seem less real.
I didn’t know it when I started work at Arnold College, but Max was still with me.
My periods had always been regular. But then I realised I was late, and my breasts felt heavy. So I bought a pregnancy test – and there it was: the result I had been dreading. I stared at it, trembling. Who could I talk to? I would tell Mum eventually, of course, but not until I had decided what to do. Patrick was not best placed to give advice. There were the house-mothers. No. It would be better if it was somebody outside school. I made an appointment to see a nurse at my GP’s surgery.
‘I’ve just found out I’m pregnant and I don’t know what to do!’ I blurted out.
Kathy raised her eyebrows, but otherwise her expression was controlled.
‘Does the father know?’
‘No. We … he’s up in Edinburgh. We’ve both just started new jobs, and we’re not seeing each other any more.’
‘I see. Maybe if you t–.’
‘–I don’t want to upset his new life. He has a very important job.’
‘So what help do you need from me?’
‘I need to find out about having a termination.’
‘Are you sure? I think you may need more time.’
‘I’ve made up my mind. It’s not the right time for me, even though I’m over thirty, and it’s not the right time for … the father. He wouldn’t be around and I couldn’t do it, I mean, be a single mother. It would mess everything up.’
‘What makes you say that?’
What I didn’t tell the nurse was that I didn’t deserve a baby at all. That night I told Mum and Ron, and the decision I’d reached. Ron said he would pay for it and we all met up at the clinic, which was halfway between West Pluting and Howcester. Mum was very quiet. The clinic was a bleak place, with strict procedures. I tried to detach myself from what was happening. It was half-term, so nobody at school needed to know.
Mum and Ron had seen me through university and never let me go without in terms of practical and emotional support. They had offered to drive me back home, which made it a very long round trip for them. Mum sat in the back, still quiet, but she massaged my shoulders.
‘How do you feel, Vee?’ Ron said, as we pulled out of the car park.
‘Tired, but OK. Thanks for doing all this for me.’
‘I’m here to help in any way I can.’ We were stuck in traffic.
‘I can’t help wondering, though, if this wasn’t my only chance to have a baby.’
‘Oh, you’ll get another chance, I’m sure. Don’t worry, Vee.’
Hot tears ran down my face, suddenly and unexpectedly, as I thought of Max. I sobbed.
‘Hey, hey, Vee! I’ll pull over as soon as I can.’ A couple of minutes later Ron stopped the car and put his arm round me. I let go of all my grief.
Back in West Pluting, alone in the cold flat, I wondered if I should ring Max. I decided not to. I’d arrived at
the station on the day he left to see the train to Edinburgh pulling out. Then the phone rang.
‘Vee? Are you alright? I’ve been trying to get you!’
‘Oh, hello, Diane. I’m OK thanks. Sorry I haven’t called you.’
‘Yes, I should think so too! I’ve missed our weekly chats.’
‘How’re things with you and Jeff?’
‘Oh, great thanks. We’ve had the house redecorated and … ’
‘And what?’
‘Look, the Christmas holidays are nearly here. Why don’t you come and stay for a couple of days when you break up? Not for Christmas itself, you understand – we’ll have a houseful. But it’d be lovely to see you again and there’s news to catch up on.’
I wanted to see Diane of course, but feeling as I did, I had to force myself to sound interested. I drove back along the coast to Lexby the day after the end of term. The boys’ excitement in the lead up to Christmas, the concerts, shows, carols and Patrick’s company hadn’t moved me from my sense of loss. I hadn’t told him, but he knew something was wrong. And I hadn’t rung Max for weeks: I wasn’t strong enough.
It was dark when I arrived at Diane’s. It really was a magnificent house. The great sweeping staircase, with its red carpet and white banister, could be seen as soon as the door opened. She took my coat and showed me into the living room, where Jeff was putting the finishing touches to a large Christmas tree.
‘I’ll take you up to your room in a minute, but what can I get you? Cup of tea? Glass of mulled wine?’ She rubbed her hands.
‘Oh, that sounds good.’
Jeff climbed down the ladder. ‘What d’you think? Will it do?’
I said it looked lovely, even though my heart just wasn’t in it. ‘How’s business?’
‘Not as good as it could be in the present climate, but we manage, don’t we darling?’
Diane smiled as she brought in a tray with two glasses of wine and a cup of tea. She handed a glass to Jeff.
‘Not having any wine, Diane?’
‘No; I might later.’
‘There’s loads I want to ask you,’ I said. ‘How’s the situation at the new place, Stonecastle?’ We sat down.
Diane told how a couple of Castlebrough staff went there, including Joan Gibson, while the others either retired or moved on somewhere else. She suggested we drive round tomorrow and look at the site. The old school houses had to be demolished, which was a shame. But hey, she said, we would be in serious need of an appointment at the shops when we’d seen that! She smiled again. ‘Got all your presents?’
‘More or less. Are you at Stonecastle now?’
‘No. That’s one bit of news I’ve got for you. I was there, but I’ve just been made head of department over in East Brickham – last week in fact! For next term. Quite a drive, but I’m sure I’ll love it! How’s your new job going, Vee?’
‘Oh, alright.’ I felt a desperate need to unburden myself to her. ‘But I’ve had a hard time lately because … ’
Just then her phone rang, and as Diane bent over to pick it up, I noticed something which made me very glad indeed that it had rung at that precise moment. It was only a short call, but it gave me the time to divert from my story, and spared my embarrassment.
‘My sister. Anyway, what were you going to say, Vee?’
‘Oh … it’s just harder work where I am now. That’s all.’
Diane patted the seat of the sofa next to her, indicating to Jeff that he should join her.
‘We’ve got some other news, haven’t we darling? Jeff smiled and placed his hand gently on Diane’s stomach. ’Yes, you’ve guessed it. We’re going to have a baby!’
‘That’s wonderful.’ I was pleased for them, but I ached inside. ‘When’s it due?’
‘In May. We were planning to get married first, but then we had this little surprise. So the wedding’s on hold for now, but it will happen, and you’ll be invited.’ Her face was lit with happiness. ‘By the way, Vee – have you kept in touch with Max at all?’
January brought gales and sleet. I looked out of the staffroom window at the moorland sky. Clouds trailed their unstitched hems over the city, the grey sustained by the granite and concrete of its post-war reconstruction. In the distance, beyond the rugby pitch, condensed rows of houses were interspersed with the black trunks and branches of leafless trees.
Mr Green came in at the start of my free lesson and set all the notices on the board fluttering in the draught. ‘Rachel Mills is downstairs for you, Vee.’
I put my coffee on the table and moaned. ‘She’s probably forgotten her book or something.’ Hail was rattling on the roof and bouncing on the grass. Rachel did not look at me properly when I went down the stairs. Instead she turned away, her head down, her long dark hair falling loose in its band and her arms folded. ‘Rachel?’
‘Miss.’ She was trying not to cry.
‘What’s wrong?’
‘Can I … can I talk to you? I mean, is it OK now?’
‘Let’s find a free room.’ We waited for the weather to ease a bit, then dashed across to the next building. Room 7 was empty. There was a long silence while Rachel composed herself. I gave her a tissue, then attempted to reduce the noise of the weather by closing the sash window. We sat on grey plastic chairs and our voices echoed slightly because of the high ceiling.
‘Miss, it’s my mum. She’s ill. They took her away last night. She had to be … sectioned, I think that’s what they called it. She’s been acting really strange for a while, but Dad and I didn’t know what was wrong. We were so frightened. My little sister locked herself in her room … ’
‘Oh, Rachel. I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do?’
‘I don’t think so Miss. I just needed to talk to someone, you know. You won’t tell anyone else, will you? Only if it gets out my Mum is a nutcase, my life won’t be worth living.’
‘I won’t say anything if you don’t want me to – and I certainly wouldn’t use that kind of word. If there’s a problem, I’ll say you’re not feeling well or something. But just remember, Rachel: she’s still your mum and she will get better.’
I had to move to a different flat for the third time in two years. Patrick helped me on this occasion (not that I had much to move) because the new place, number 79, was only ten minutes’ walk from Arnold College.
We were seeing each other more often outside school. I pressed the button on his entryphone and announced, ‘C’est moi!’ as usual. The door buzzed and I went in. Sitting on the steps in front of Patrick’s door was Leo McPherson, head in hands.
‘Did you want Father Collins?’ I asked.
The young boy nodded. When Patrick came to his door, combing his hair in apparent anticipation of our Indian meal in town, I drew my hand silently across my throat and grimaced, pointing to McPherson.
‘Hello, Mac. Do you want to come in?’ McPherson stood up without a word. He looked pale and tired.
‘Come in and tell me what’s happened.’ Patrick’s voice was warm and he showed the boy into the small living room with its old-fashioned furniture. I sat next to Leo on the sofa.
‘Sir … Miss,’ came a tiny voice. ‘It’s my dad. He had an accident and … ’ At this point Leo burst into tears and screamed: ‘He’s dead!’
I put my arm round the boy. Then Patrick indicated, with his eyebrows and a jerk of his head, that he wanted a word outside. ‘I’m really sorry about this, Gatters,’ he murmured. ‘But just before all this I had a phone call from a friend who’s in trouble and I said I’d call in. So we’ll have to forego supper this time and … will you be alright to stay with Mac for about an hour?’
‘Yes, OK.’
He smiled and squeezed my hand. ‘If you get hungry there’s stuff in the fridge.’
I made us a sandwich at some point and I sat with Leo until ten o’clock, when his housemaster rang, anxious. I put him in the picture and sent the boy downstairs. His mother was going to collect him in the morning. Shortly afterwards,
Patrick returned. He poured us a glass of wine each and flopped into the sofa next to me with a sigh of exhaustion. A few moments passed. He ran his fingers through his hair.
‘Makes you think, Vee, doesn’t it, about taking your parents for granted. What I need is a wife. You could be Mrs Collins, then … ’
I cut him short with a passionate kiss that had been waiting for months. But he sat up and gently pulled away from me. I ran out of the flat. Patrick and I did not speak for several months. When we eventually rescued our friendship, it was subtly changed, like a fine plate with a chip which we couldn’t help noticing.
11
Falling
Spring: the earth was waking up, delicately green. But I was spending more and more time in my own private weird season. Spring was too industrious for me and sent a kind of muted panic through my bones. I could hear the exam bird, the chaffinch, growing ever more insistent. I was angry with myself because I kept getting things wrong; this feeling would then fade into a grey apathy, because nothing could be done about it.
I know I must have interrupted other teachers talking about me when I went into the staffroom. The slight turn of their backs and the repeated parcels of silence gave it away. Some of my classes were misbehaving and I couldn’t keep up with the marking. I never knew which teacher had been in the next room at any given time; this undermined my confidence. The senior staff were beginning to ask questions. The black wave was threatening. I remembered my first job, but no amount of determination could change the way I felt.
I spent days in bed. I didn’t clean the flat at the weekend as I normally did. It was the monochrome, the black threat, the weakness of university. I think Aunt Mary was awake. When I did manage to go into work, sometimes it felt as if I was just a mask walking along and trying to teach. If the mask were to fall off, there would be nobody behind it. And it was a poor, brittle mask. Then suddenly my lessons would go brilliantly, the world would be wonderful, full of light and energy. I’d hardly need any sleep and my thoughts and ideas would come so, so easily. It was a shame my classes did not share my enthusiasm: I was angry at this. Then came a phase when all I wanted to do was drive off a cliff or take an overdose. Either this notion would fill my head, or my mind would be empty and dark. Whichever it was, I would sit in front of my students and not engage with them. How they could be expected to tolerate this erratic behaviour I don’t know; right then, however, their welfare couldn’t have been further from my mind. And now it had all ground to a halt. The urge to end the moods once and for all was still there but I hadn’t the strength to see it through.
From a Safe Distance Page 8
