Laying the Ghosts

by Catherine Thornton

  “Thankyou!” retorted Alex.

  “To be honest, Alex, I think you have been exceptionally lucky. She is attractive, she has a nice personality, she is bright and she is young. She has her whole life to look forward to. What did you have to look forward to? Your declining years and an annual visit from Rupert!”

  “I’m not an invalid yet,” responded Alex crossly.

  “No. Well, I’ve done all I can. I have grave reservations about the whole business. The implications of your resignation are not entirely lost on me you know. It obviously had something to do with your relationship with Emma.” She noticed Alex’s frown and added, “Don’t worry. I won’t pry. If Emma is eighteen it is up to her what she does. I just hope Brian doesn’t get any ideas about running off with some young thing!”

  Alex’s frown deepened.

  Life was suddenly very different for Alex. The pattern of years had been broken. He did not stop to analyse how he had allowed this to come about, but there was a moment just after he woke up each morning when he realised that the peaceful routine of teaching no longer existed and instead there was the blithe, eager girl who would be waiting for him downstairs waiting to accompany him around an endless train of crumbling cottages and rambling old houses. This realisation always produced in him a mixed reaction. He missed the respectability and security of his old life. He had been comfortable if not, perhaps, actively happy. The challenges of this unfamiliar new role brought with them greater extremes of feeling. Now, far from feeling comfortable, he suffered twinges of guilt which mingled with a sense of anticipation when he descended the stairs each day.

  Alex pursued his original intention of finding a property in need of renovation and Emma joined him in this quest so naturally that he came to accept the fact that they were now acting as a couple almost without question. In fact he found Emma’s company most enjoyable. She took such pleasure in everything they did. Even little things, like having hot scones in a tea shop after getting cold tramping round empty houses, made her glow with happiness. It was almost impossible to be unaffected by her exuberance. Her wry comments and what Mary had called her quaint ideas also made him smile – even, as was often the case, when they were directed at himself. In some ways the relationship, which had started so oddly, now developed more along the lines of irascible father and high-spirited daughter - the latter usually managing to soothe the former into good temper. Perhaps it was because Emma was so undemanding, yet at the same time quite prepared to tease him for his faults, that made him relax in her company in a way that was completely new to him.

  There were moments, however, when Alex was appalled and incredulous at finding himself on the verge of a second marriage. What he allowed himself to recall of his previous experience did not make the prospect of a second attempt appealing. He had the air of one who had let things get quite out of hand and doesn’t like having his attention drawn to the fact. Any mention of the wedding arrangement made him either irritable or sullen. Emma humoured him by referring to the event - which was to take place in the first week of February on the grounds that there was no point in any delay - as little as possible. However, one morning, when they were on their way to see a two bedroom cottage which the estate agent had strenuously recommended to them, Emma did take the opportunity to raise the subject.

  “Alex.”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you have any money?”

  “Of course. Why?”

  “I want to buy a dress.”

  “A dress? What for?” His eyes were firmly fixed on the road.

  “To get married in.”

  “What’s wrong with the one you’ve already got?”

  “Absolutely nothing. But I’d like something special. I believe white is traditional although perhaps not wholly appropriate.”

  This allusion did not please Alex. He wished to forget his past conduct. He had not so much as held her hand since the funeral.

  “You know I don’t want any fuss or paraphernalia.”

  I’m sure you don’t. But don’t forget that I’ll be present too. I would enjoy wearing something out of the ordinary. I won’t be wildly extravagant.” They both knew that money wasn’t the issue. Emma would have money soon enough from her mother’s modest estate.

  “It’s not going to be a peep-show you know,” came the gruff reply.

  Emma smiled and put her hand on his cheek. “You are a miserable beggar sometimes!”

  Her touch disturbed him, but he did relent a little. “You can have some money if you want. But nothing too fancy.”

  Emma, having won the point, waited for what seemed like an appropriate length of time before she embarked on a second assault. She was used to his stiff manner by now and was not at all daunted by it. In reality he was immovable on only a very few points. It was simply that he was perpetually wary and disliked committing himself unless pushed just a little. On the other hand she had discovered that too much push made him more stubborn than ever. In some ways he was still an enigma to her but at least his behaviour was predictable.

  In fact Emma probably understood Alex better than anyone, except perhaps Mary, ever had. She understood him because she was, and had long been, so intensely and obsessively interested in him. She knew that his stern and detached manner resulted from a genuine desire to distance himself from others and that, in turn, this desire resulted from a distrust not of others, but of himself. In fact Emma believed that Alex neither liked nor understood his own nature. She had also only recently come to realise that he must have succeed in getting through the whole of his life without ever forming a truly intimate, loving relationship with anyone. She knew this because she had discovered that he actually lacked the vocabulary of affection and the techniques of communication which she, like so many, had learnt from her mother and now had at her disposal to adapt for use in an adult relationship. Having met Alex’s sister, Mary, she could not understand why Alex lacked this essential education. However, she knew that she at least had the ability to interpret the emotions which Alex could neither define nor express but to which he was nonetheless susceptible. Herein also lay the explanation of why Emma loved him. What had begun as obsession had ended in understanding and it is difficult not to love someone you wholly understand, even if you do not happen to like everything about them.

  “What about the ring? said Emma at last.

  “What?” Alex was trying to overtake a tractor which was crawling along the lane in front of him.

  “A wedding ring.”

  “I hadn’t thought about it.”

  “I know. That is why I’m reminding you.”

  “I’ll give you money for that too.”

  “Alex! You should buy the ring.”

  “I most certainly shall not. I’m too old to go around buying wedding rings.”

  “What nonsense! You must have bought one for your first wife, so you’ve had the practice.”

  “As it happens, I didn’t.”

  “Well, shame on you then. But I don’t intend to be treated so shabbily. If you mean to marry me, for whatever reason, you shall buy me a ring.”

  The subject was dropped until the following morning when Alex said quite casually,

  “Will you be ready to go into Exeter at about ten, Emma?”

  “Exeter? Yes, of course. Why do you want to go to Exeter?”

  “I thought you might like to see the cathedral. And you did say that you had some shopping you wanted to do.”

  In the end it actually was Emma who bought the ring whilst Alex hovered in the background looking at clocks. The girl in the shop did happen to make an unfortunate comment about it being unusual for the father to come with the bride-to-be. Alex’s face became instantly stony, but Emma laughed so much once they had left the shop that she dropped the box containing the ring and Alex had to pick it up out of a puddle.

  However, there were more thorny problems for Alex to overcome. One that pleased him least was the prospect of asking his son to the nuptials. He
was convinced that Rupert would view the proceedings with either contempt or hilarity. The only thing that he was undecided about was which would be worse. He voiced this opinion to Mary, who had been trying to convince him of the necessity of inviting Rupert.

  “Oh really, Alex! Surprised he might be, but I don’t see what there could possibly be for him to find funny.”

  “The prospect of his father marrying someone as young as he is, considerably younger in fact, might strike him as a bit odd.”

  “Odd, yes. But it was your choice. You must have initiated the relationship with Emma. You decided to marry her. You must have known that there was the prospect of a few people looking askance and asking awkward questions. If you were not prepared to come to terms with that you should never had got involved with one of your pupils in the first place.”

  “Ask him to come if you want, Mary. Just do what you like.” Alex pulled on his coat and went out of the back door without another word. Emma came into the kitchen just seconds later and helped herself to an apple.

  “Has Alex disappeared?”

  “Yes. He’s gone off to sulk because I told him that Rupert had to be asked to the wedding. If the two of you get on it may even help things. If Rupert is excluded from the start, relations between them can only deteriorate.”

  “I feel a bit wary about meeting him myself.” Emma bit into her apple.

  “Of course you do. But I’m sure you’ll get on fine given half a chance. Alex does make me cross sometimes. He acts as if getting married were an embarrassment.”

  “Oh, but he is embarrassed. In fact I think ashamed would be a better word.”

  “You can’t really think that!” Mary was actually shocked.

  “I do. I think there is a chance he’ll get over it in time. I suspect that he sees himself as, well, a lecherous old man running off with some schoolgirl!”

  “Well, no one else thinks that. You know that isn’t true.”

  Emma took another bite of the apple. When she had finished chewing she said, “Oh, I don’t know. I am a schoolgirl and Alex is lecherous.”

  “Emma!”

  “Well, perhaps all men are. I’m not really sure. I haven’t had much experience with men in general.”

  “Well, I suppose there is some truth in that. But most know how to control themselves.”

  “Well, Alex doesn’t. At least, not all the time.”

  “I don’t think I want to know,” said Mary bluntly.

  Emma continued regardless. “The funny thing is that he won’t even hold my hand now. Had you noticed? I think that he’s afraid to.”

  “Perhaps it’s because there are always other people around. He was never very demonstrative in public.”

  “I doubt if he was ever very demonstrative in private either. Anyway, we are on our own quite a lot. The funny thing is, he acts as if there were some sort of taboo on any form of physical contact. He practically flinches if I so much as lay a hand on him. That might have made some sense once, but it’s a little late for him to start being so scrupulous now.”

  “Why don’t you try and talk to him about it if it bothers you? Not that Alex is the easiest of people to talk to.”

  “I wouldn’t dare tackle him on the subject at the moment. Perhaps after the wedding.”

  “Does it bother you a lot?”

  “Yes and no. Yes, because Alex is a difficult enough person to get on with at the best of times and this just raises one more barrier. And no, because I think it might mean that he really does care about me.”

  The wedding took place on the first Wednesday in February. In the end Rupert came, but he came alone. Melanie was working. Apart from him the only people present were Mary, Brian, Chrissie and Alex’s other sister, Anne. A few days previously Alex had contacted Jean Jones to tell her what was happening. He felt obliged to do so, partly because he disliked the idea of doing anything in a clandestine manner – it seemed too much like admitting that there was something to be concealed – and partly because he knew that she would probably already have made inquiries after Emma. He was correct in this latter assumption. She had already found out from Mrs Mitchell that Emma had absconded with him. However, when she spoke to Alex she confined her expression of concern to the fact that Emma had lost so much time at school and that it was a shame to jeopardise her chances of good results and a university place. This was a matter that had actually caused Alex himself some disquiet. However, it was also a matter on which Emma was unpersuadable. She had no wish to pursue her studies at that time. Despite the fact that the headmistress restricted her comments to the question of education, Alex was aware of a strong undercurrent of disapproval. Although he was not, at this stage, doing anything strictly wrong, he knew that most would view it as quite unacceptable for a teacher to have become involved with one of his pupils – even if he had the foresight to leave the school before the affair came to light. He knew Jean Jones would share this conviction. He was relieved when the conversation came to an end.

  The service was kept to the basics. The church itself was formidably cold, despite the gas heater that the vicar had wheeled in just before they all arrived. Since the organist was not available mid-week they entered the church in silence. Emma had come down that morning dressed in a plain, three-quarter length dress in white moiré taffeta with a wide, white sash around her slim waist. She wore a yellow ribbon in her hair and had even taken the liberty of ordering some yellow tulips. This was her way of tempting fate, but the allusion was lost on Alex. In the end she turned up at the church with her dress concealed under Alex’s overcoat. It was too cold for symbolism or sentimentality. Alex himself wore his usual tweed suit and looked at the vicar’s shoes throughout most of the service. It was only as he placed the ring on Emma’s small, cold hand that his eyes met hers briefly. He gave the hand a friendly squeeze before recommencing his study of the vicar’s shiny toed shoes.

  Once the ceremony was over, they all piled back into the two cars that had brought them to church. Brian led the way to a favourite pub where the landlord had some champagne and sandwiches ready for them. This was the result of Mary’s thoughtfulness. As it was, it turned out to be quite a jolly gathering. Even Alex, relieved the formalities were over and done with and ready for some champagne, relaxed a bit and chatted with his sisters. Emma, also enlivened by the champagne, took the opportunity to break the ice with Rupert. He had been conversing with Chrissie, but when she went to help herself to sandwiches Emma moved in. Rupert had arrived at the house only minutes before they all left, so there had been time for only the most perfunctory introduction.

  “I hope I didn’t come as too much of a shock to you,” began Emma, glad that the champagne had started to go to her head and hoping that it was having the same effect on Rupert. “Don’t worry, you needn’t feel obliged to call me stepmother!”

  Rupert had only taken a single sip of his champagne but he was easily won over by Emma’s slightly shy smile and the hopeful look in her eyes. Rupert privately thought that, although not conventionally pretty, she had a pleasant face and beautiful eyes which distracted from any faults in her other features. She also had a serenity which could almost pass for beauty in itself.

  “I’m surprised but delighted. I think my father is a lucky man.”

  “Thankyou. I hope you will come and see us. So I can actually get to know you. Not that I’m sure where we’ll be living in the long run. We’ve looked at plenty of houses. I like them all, but your father is more fastidious. In any case, we’ve already got two houses to dispose of as soon as we can, so we’ve arranged to rent a cottage for the time being. We took some things over there yesterday. It’s like a refrigerator. Once we’ve made it habitable you and Melanie will be welcome.”

  “We’d like that.”

  “Well, I’ll see that you receive a proper invitation. I can imagine that your father was a bit lax in that department.”

  “He certainly was. Still, maybe he will mellow in his old age, with a little help
from you.”

  Emma laughed. “Don’t say anything like that to Alex. I suspect that he is a little sensitive about our age difference.”

  Encouraged by Emma’s apparently easygoing nature Rupert cautiously ventured one of the questions about which he was particularly curious. “Would it be very ill mannered of me to ask your age?”

  “Not at all. Eighteen.”

  Rupert gave a low whistle. “That makes me feel old!”

  “I’m surprised you hadn’t worked it out, since I was still at school.”

  “I wasn’t sure that you were. At my father’s school, do you mean? That must have raised a few eyebrows.”

  “It probably would have done if anyone had noticed. Not that there was anything to notice. We only really got to know each other after my mother’s funeral. Alex had left the school by then.”