Laying the Ghosts

by Catherine Thornton

  “Did you sleep well, Alex?”

  “Yes, thankyou.” He took a few rashers of crisp bacon and put them into a roll. He didn’t bother about a plate nor did he sit down. Mary looked at her brother and smiled.

  “Living alone hasn’t done anything for your table manners.”

  He obligingly helped himself to a plate but remained standing.

  “Do you have any plans for this morning?” inquired Mary.

  “Not particularly. I thought of going out and stretching my legs.”

  “How about giving your arms some exercise instead? I’d like some more logs chopped. Brian was supposed to do them before he went to work.”

  “That’s fine. Just let me know how many you want.”

  Mary put her empty plate onto the draining board. “I’ll let you finish your breakfast in peace first.” She busied herself with some washing-up whilst Alex ate his fill.

  “Alright, Mary, I’m all yours now.”

  She dried her hands and led him out of the back door to the shed. “This is the best axe.” She lifted one off a hook and gave it to her brother. Alex selected a few logs and put them beside the block on which he was going to chop them. He lined one up and swung the axe at it. The axe struck the centre of the log but only split it halfway down. Alex put his foot on the log and gave the axe a sharp pull. Mary watched him as he worked.

  “There’s quite a knack to it. Brian prides himself on splitting them with a single blow.”

  Alex wielded the axe again and the two pieces of the log fell to the ground. He smiled with satisfaction. Mary found herself a seat on the edge of a work bench and continued to observe whilst Alex toiled. After about ten minutes his forehead was beaded with sweat and he stopped to wipe the back of his hand across his face.

  “Not bad for your age,” Mary commented.

  “I still play cricket every summer.”

  “Will you be giving that up now?”

  “No. Why should I?” He lined up another log but looked at his sister before chopping it.

  “Well, you seem to be breaking old habits. I still haven’t worked out why you stopped teaching. It’s not like you. You were never one to make changes willingly. And this is a big change. Whatever Brian says, it is simply not in your nature to give up your job on impulse.”

  Alex split the log with a crack. The axe itself became wedged in the block and he took a few seconds to work it free again. “I might look for another teaching job,” was all her said. He lifted up another log onto the block.

  “You know, even as a child you were an impossible person to talk to!” Mary said, as Alex took another swing. “I suppose you get it from father. You could never talk to him about anything of consequence.”

  Alex picked up the pieces of the log and then leant against the axe for a moment and looked at his sister as she spoke.

  “Father was one of those people who could talk about other people’s problems,” she continued, “but if there was ever any upset in the family he’d stick his head in the sand like an ostrich and not emerge until mother had sorted everything out.”

  “I don’t see myself as an ostrich,” commented Alex.

  “Well, you won’t talk about things. I can see that something is bothering you. At least if you talk about it you’ll get your own ideas sorted out.”

  “You’re imagining things, Mary. There’s nothing bothering me.”

  “Do you remember when you were a little boy?” she ignored his reassurance. “Anne and I used to make such a fuss of you! You were the baby of the family and we just loved to spoil you. Then all of a sudden you wouldn’t accept our sweets or play our games any more. You wanted to be grown up. You were about five at the time. Ever since then you’ve always kept yourself aloof from us.”

  “Well, there’s no hope for me now.” He renewed his assault on the logs.

  Mary sighed but remained where she was whilst Alex concentrated on chopping logs for a while. Eventually he paused to catch his breath and then addressed Mary in a casual tone of voice.

  “Would you believe one of the girls at school had a crush on me?”

  “Don’t tell me that’s the first time it’s happened to you! It must be one of the occupational hazards of working in a girl’s school.”

  “I’m hardly the archetypal teenage pin-up.”

  “Nonsense. You are just the type; handsome and authoritative.”

  Alex laughed with genuine amusement. “That’s the first time in a good few years that I’ve been called handsome.”

  “Well, I was stretching the point a bit. Anyway, I hope you were kind to the poor, misguided child?”

  “Kind! Surely it was better to just put her off?”

  Mary became pensive. “Well, Alex, it is very easy for we adults to be patronising. But a girl’s feelings are no less genuine and her disappointment no less painful because she has set her heart on someone quite unsuitable. I’ll make a confession to you. Do you remember Geoffrey Pollard?”

  “Geoffrey Pollard? Wasn’t he one of father’s curates? Funny bloke. He’d been in Oxford too long or something.”

  “Yes, well, at the tender age of fourteen I was madly in love with him. It broke my heart when he married Julie Who-ever-it-was.”

  Alex laughed for a second time.

  “It’s all very well for you to laugh,” replied Mary with dignity, “but I thought that my life was ruined.”

  “But, Mary...Geoffrey Pollard! He was an anaemic, half-baked little chap. You must be joking.”

  “He was clever. I was in love with his mind. No, don’t laugh, Alex. All I’m trying to say is that, looking back on it, I don’t believe that my feelings were really all that childish. As it was I had to forget him. And, of course, I did eventually. How old is this admirer of yours anyway?”

  “Eighteen.”

  “Eighteen! Well, she’s no child then.”

  “She’s young enough to be my daughter.”

  “Girls have been known to fall for a father figure.”

  “I’d never thought of that.”

  “Don’t look so disappointed. Did you hope that she had fallen for you because of your rugged good looks?”

  “I hadn’t really thought about it much, to be honest.”

  “That’s typical of you. Just like father! You never think about anything that isn’t academic. I don’t know why God bothered to give you a good brain. You never use it on anything that really matters. What about Rupert? Have you ever wondered why he avoids you?”

  “Avoids me? He doesn’t avoid me. He’s just typical of his generation. He’s so wrapped up in himself that he hasn’t got time for me.”

  “That’s good coming from you! No, Alex, Rupert’s not really a selfish boy. He tries to fulfil his duty to you if nothing else. It’s about time you spared a little more time for him. Have a think about it.” Mary walked back to the house. Alex frowned after her for a moment but then turned his attention back to the logs.

  Rupert arrived on New Year’s Eve. He was a nice looking young man who took care of his appearance. His hair was neat and short and he wore a smart pair of corduroy trousers with a matching jumper and highly polished shoes. He was taller than his father but not as thick-set and he had none of Alex Dowding’s physical presence. With him was the latest of a long line of girlfriends. Alex had a struggle to remember her name but after he had shaken hands with his son he addressed her with apparent confidence.

  “Hallo, Melanie. I’m glad to meet you.” The two shook hands. Melanie was a small, rather plain girl with an intelligent face. Alex observed that she was different in almost every way possible to his son’s previous girlfriends. Without exception they had been pretty, good-natured and easy-going. Melanie gave the immediate impression of being the determined, no-nonsense type. She wore a wool skirt and a cardigan and unattractive but sturdy shoes. Alex found her handshake to be firm and was amused to hear her directing his son to take their bags out of the car before it got dark.

  “Rupe
rt, it’s lovely to see you.” Mary hugged her nephew and he kissed her cheek warmly. “And Melanie! So nice to meet you, dear.”

  The four went into the house where Melanie was introduced to Brian and Chrissie. Melanie remained quiet but seemed to be perfectly at ease amongst the family she had just met. When Mary asked if they had enjoyed Christmas it was she who had replied.

  “We had a lovely Christmas, thankyou. Rupert had not met my family before. He even got the chance to meet my brother. John’s in the army, you see, and he’s not often at home.”

  Mary nodded, her face a picture of polite interest. “Well, I hope you will enjoy your stay here.”

  “I’m sure I shall. Thankyou.” Melanie sat down and Rupert followed suit. Alex stood uneasily by the hearth and wondered if he should try to start a conversation with Melanie. Before he had come to any decision, Melanie addressed Rupert.

  “Did you bring our presents in from the car? We should distribute them now.”

  “Oh, yes. They’re in the hall. I’ll go and get them.”

  “In that case I’ll get your presents too, Rupert.” Alex followed his son out of the room. A short ritual followed. Alex gave his son a book token and Melanie some chocolates. In return he received a book on antiques. He was not displeased with it.

  “Melanie chose it,” explained Rupert. He had also given presents to his aunt, uncle and cousin and the floor was soon covered with wrapping paper. Once the paper had been put on the fire Mary took Melanie to see her room and Chrissie went to contribute ideas on what should be put in the mulled wine that Brian was concocting. Alex found himself alone with his son.

  “She looks like a nice girl,” he commented.

  “I’d hardly say that Melanie’s looks were her finest feature.”

  “I meant that she seemed pleasant.”

  “She’s not even that pleasant. She’s quite bossy.”

  “Where did you meet her?” Alex persevered.

  “In the local library would you believe. We met over a pile of books I was returning. She commented on my choice of literature and we got talking.” Rupert was pulling idly at the corner of a pile of folded towels that were on his lap. Alex looked at the pink bath towels curiously.

  “Did Mary give you those?”

  “Yes.”

  “A rather odd present.”

  “Not really. They’re for the house. The bathroom’s pink.”

  “I thought you rented a flat.”

  “I do. But now we’re buying as house.”

  “We?”

  “Melanie and I.”

  “You’re not getting married?” exclaimed Alex in surprise.

  “No, we’re not. We’re just buying a house.”

  “I had no idea.” Rupert had never before displayed the slightest inclination to settle down. “So you intend to live together on a permanent basis?”

  “We do indeed.”

  Alex frowned. “Well, why aren’t you getting married then?”

  Rupert shrugged his shoulder. “What’s the point? Melanie isn’t interested in the idea of marriage and I don’t see that it would make much difference if we do or not.”

  “It shows genuine commitment.”

  “A commitment to what? Staying together if it turns out we can’t stand each other? No thanks.”

  “What about children?”

  Rupert laughed. “Look, we’re going to live together. That’s all. Neither of us is remotely interested in the idea of children. Melanie’s trained to be a librarian. That’s what she wants to do.”

  Further discussion was prevented by the return of Mary and Melanie. Alex took another look at Melanie. She reminded him very slightly of Alice. She had the same way of dressing and the same plain but intelligent face. However, his wife had been more feminine and her usual expression softer. He got the distinct impression that of Rupert and Melanie it was the latter who would prove to be the more dominant personality. He was interested to find out if this assumption was correct. Of all Rupert’s girlfriends Melanie was the first to make any impression on him if only because she struck him as an unlikely choice for Rupert to have made. However, when he was helping Mary to arrange the tabled in the dining room to accommodate the six that would sit down to dinner, she expressed a contradictory opinion.

  “I’m glad that Rupert had found the right sort of girl at last.”

  “She seems an odd choice to me.”

  “Odd? No, just what I would have predicted.”

  “I don’t see why. He normally picks the pretty, amiable type.”

  “Yes, but they didn’t really suit him. That’s why he couldn’t stick with one for more than a few months.”

  “Well, what makes you think that things will be any different this time?”

  “Melanie had got more strength of character than her predecessors. I don’t think that Rupert likes being the dominant partner.”

  “I agree that she appears to have a stronger will, but I’m not convinced that Rupert particularly likes that aspect of her personality.”

  “Well, he always was a mummy’s boy, wasn’t he?”

  “Was he?”

  Mary laughed. “You really don’t know your own son at all. There is no hope for you Alex!”

  Alex awoke on the first day of the New Year with a headache. It was a well deserved headache. He and Brian had shared the better part of a bottle of whisky and argued about whether England could hope to win the Ashes that year. At midnight they had gone out to find some coal which they had presented to Mary along with the remains of the whisky. Then he and Brian offered to sing the version of The Twelve Days of Christmas that they had learnt at school. In the end they had made numerous amendments, partly out of consideration for the ladies present, and partly because they had forgotten most of the words anyway. The result was that they practically made it up as they went along, to the amusement of their audience. It was on occasions like this that Alex was at his best.

  The following morning Alex found that, although it was well past eight by the time he was dressed, the kitchen was still deserted. He thought that this was probably a good thing as he did not know how he would have responded to the smell of bacon cooking. He settled for a glass of milk which he took with him into the lounge, leaving the door ajar so that he could hear when Mary came down. Alex dozed in an easy chair for about ten minutes before he heard footsteps in the hall. He soon recognised Rupert’s voice. Melanie was with him and he could hear the two of them talking as they went into the kitchen.

  “There’s no need to wait for your aunt. I can make us some coffee.” There was the sound of cupboards being opened as Melanie searched for the crockery and saucepans. Alex did not particularly want any coffee, so he decided to remain where he was and let them get on with it.

  “Is your father an early riser?”

  “He’s a man of habit. I think he’s risen at seven, on the dot, every day of his life.”

  Alex smiled as he overheard this comment.

  “He has a good singing voice.”

  “Yes. My mother sang well too. It was about the only thing they did together with any success.”

  “How is it that you are tone deaf then?”

  Alex heard Rupert give a short laugh. “I’m not that bad. I admit I haven’t inherited my father’s voice. I don’t think I’ve inherited anything from him, except his name.”

  “What was your mother like?” Melanie was opening drawers in the kitchen, presumably to find spoons.

  “Very musical. Quite a gentle person. She was totally unable to stand up to my father.”

  “Did they argue a lot then?”

  “Argue? Hardly ever. There was never a lot of point in trying to argue with my father. At the first hint of a confrontation he used to retreat into his study and not come out until all was tranquil again.”

  Alex had no desire to overhear what his son had to say but he found that he was transfixed.

  Melanie was saying, “You don’t really like your father, do
you?”

  “Oh, I don’t mind him now. I didn’t like him when I was young because I blamed him for my mother’s unhappiness.”

  “What did he do to her?”

  “It’s not what he did. It’s what he didn’t do. He just didn’t bother about her. Or me, come to that. He never bothered to find out why she wasn’t happy. If she ever showed her feelings – got cross or cried or something – he’d just stomp off. He didn’t want to know. He probably just couldn’t handle emotional scenes. Perhaps it wasn’t entirely his fault. But he shouldn’t have married someone as sensitive as my mother. She wasn’t tough like you!”