Stolen Beginnings

by Susan Lewis

  When Madeleine came in just after midnight, Marian was in bed. Neither of them spoke as Madeleine flicked on the bedroom light and hummed tunelessly while she undressed, as if there were no one else in the room.

  ‘Good night?’ Marian asked.

  Ignoring her, Madeleine continued with her nightly beauty routine. A few minutes later she picked up a magazine and got into bed.

  ‘It’s rather lonely in Coventry,’ Marian quipped. ‘Can we talk?’

  Madeleine sighed and flicked over a page.

  ‘If I told you I’d decided not to see him again, would you stop behaving so childishly?’

  ‘What you have or haven’t decided is beside the point now,’ Madeleine answered loftily. ‘You’ve obviously turned him against me, so it’s too late to start crawling round me now.’

  ‘I’m not crawling round you,’ Marian snapped. ‘I’m trying to discuss this in an adult manner. But it’s difficult when you insist on acting like a selfish, spoiled little brat.’

  ‘Just fuck off,’ Madeleine said.

  ‘Does that have to be your answer to everything?’

  ‘As far as you’re concerned, yes.’

  ‘All right. If you’re going to take that attitude then I might as well see him again. It doesn’t seem I’ve got much to lose.’

  ‘You do that. And don’t come crying to me when he dumps you.’

  The next day was even more difficult; they were both at home, but Madeleine carried on as if Marian wasn’t there. A couple of her friends came round and they drank a bottle of wine without offering her any. If she attempted to join in the conversation there was a hostile silence, and then they continued as if she hadn’t spoken. Madeleine answered the phone to the Sue Sheppard Agency and told them she’d never heard of a Marian Deacon; and when Marian called the agency back, Madeleine turned the stereo up so loud she couldn’t hear a thing. So she put on her coat and went out to a call-box. After she’d got her typing assignment for the following day she wandered around for an hour, and only went back to the flat when she was sure Madeleine had gone to work.

  And here, she thought to herself as she started to clear the mess Madeleine had left, is proof of my cowardice.

  ‘I shouldn’t let her get away it,’ she told Paul when he came round later, ‘but I simply don’t know what to do about it.’

  ‘Yes, you do,’ he said. ‘In fact, you’ve already done it.’

  Marian frowned. ‘Have I?’

  He smiled. ‘You called me. Which, I take it, was what you wanted to do.’

  Marian gave him a shy look and offered him another cup of tea. He wrinkled his nose, and going out to the hall, produced a bottle of red wine from his raincoat pocket.

  ‘I shouldn’t have told you all that,’ she said, when they were in the kitchen hunting for the corkscrew. ‘She accused me of turning you off her, and she’s not exactly wrong now, is she?’

  ‘Marian,’ he said, ‘I was never “on” Madeleine in the first place, as you know full well. So stop this self-chastisement and give me that corkscrew.’

  Marian watched his hands as he poured the wine, then had to swallow hard as he handed her a glass. ‘Madeleine will be furious if you’re still here when she comes in,’ she said.

  ‘I’ll be long gone, if that’s what you want. But if she asks, you’re not to deny having seen me. Unless you’re ashamed, of course.’

  She smiled at that, and led the way back into the sitting-room. He sat on the sofa again, but when she headed towards the chair he caught her hand and pulled her down next to him. ‘And if she hits you again then I will have something to say on the matter, whether you like it or not. Now, shall we change the subject?’

  Despite the peculiarly hot vortex that was whirling about in her chest, Marian couldn’t resist a tease. ‘Are you by any chance trying to tell me you’ve found my conversation boring so far?’

  ‘Trying to tell you? You mean I’ve failed?’

  Marian laughed. ‘In that case, maybe you’d like to bore me by telling me what your book’s about.’

  ‘Ah! Now we’re talking deeply dull. Male adolescence.’

  Marian yawned. ‘Mm, deeply dull. In fact . . .’ She giggled as he put a hand over her mouth and gave her a warning look. Then tucking her feet under her, she sat back to listen.

  Several times her mind wandered, but it had nothing to do with being bored. It was because she simply couldn’t get to grips with the fact that he was really there, and she was responding to him in such a natural and relaxed way. She even started to challenge some of the things he said, and he listened, considered her suggestions and often admitted she might have a point. His feet were resting on the wooden box they used as a coffee table, and Marian was finding it difficult to keep her eyes from wandering the length of his muscular legs. She liked the way his hand swept through his hair from time to time, and the droll look that came into his eyes when he compared the boy in his book with himself as a teenager.

  At nine o’clock they went out for a Chinese takeaway, and as they ate she told him about her mother, her father, her schooldays, and the little terraced house they’d lived in in Totnes.

  ‘And you?’ she said. ‘Where are your parents?’

  ‘They died when I was in my teens. My aunt took over from there, but I’m afraid she’s dead now too.’

  ‘Oh.’ Marian’s face was filled with concern. ‘Don’t you have any family at all?’

  He shook his head. ‘No family, no roots. And indeed, no job to speak of. Unless you call writing a job.’

  ‘But what do you do for money?’

  As he answered his eyes were full of humour. ‘I sign on, like plenty of others.’ He laughed at her evident shock. ‘It was a deliberate choice,’ he continued. ‘I wanted to write, and it was no good trying to do it on a part-time basis.’

  She looked at his clothes, recognising the expensive cut. ‘What did you do before?’ she asked.

  ‘I ran several businesses, made a great deal of money and spent it all.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘That’s what money’s for, isn’t it?’

  ‘What did you spend it on?’

  ‘Women, mainly.’

  Marian looked away, but he reached out and pulled her face back to look at him. ‘And now I’ve met you, I’m a pauper. But in certain situations, with certain people, money is irrelevant, wouldn’t you agree? And I think you know that what I can give you, if you will allow it, no amount of money in the world could buy.’

  Marian’s small grey eyes looked at him. Her tongue was knotted somewhere in the back of her throat, but the wonderful latency of his words had started a rush through her veins that made her skin glow.

  He smiled, and she looked at his white teeth, then at the dark shadow on his chin. His eyes were watching her from beneath the black arches of his brows. She wanted to say something but didn’t know what. Then he glanced at his watch and got to his feet. ‘Now, if you want me out of here before Madeleine returns,’ he said, ‘I guess I’d better be on my way.’

  She followed him into the hall, still unable to speak. In a way she was glad he was going, she wanted to savour that moment alone and unobserved.

  As he opened the door he turned to look at her. ‘Can I call you tomorrow?’

  She nodded.

  ‘Around seven?’

  Again she nodded, and with a smile that was so intimate it seemed to touch her, he left.

  She rushed into the bedroom and went to look at herself in the mirror. She was amazed at what she saw, and pinched herself, sure it was all a dream. She tried to stop smiling but found it was impossible. Her eyes had never sparkled like that before, and her skin was flushed and tingling. She felt as if she was floating, as if she could fly even. How could just a few words have had such an effect?

  Madeleine didn’t come home that night, and secretly Marian was glad. She’d never have been able to hide her feelings and she didn’t want Madeleine to say anything to spoil her happiness.<
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  After that she saw him every day, usually in the evenings, but if she wasn’t working they wrapped up warmly and strolled across the Downs, or toured the zoo, or window-shopped for things they couldn’t afford. Her heart was like a volcano, erupting with such happiness and love that it gave her a radiance even Madeleine couldn’t fail to notice. But even Madeleine’s peevish resentment did nothing to destroy her euphoria.

  ‘It’s classic, isn’t it?’ he said one day, when they were standing outside a jeweller’s in Broadmead. ‘Now I’ve met someone I really want to spend money on, I don’t have it.’

  She wanted to put her arms round him and tell him it didn’t matter, but they hadn’t got as far as an embrace yet, and she was too shy to make the first move. Sometimes he held her hand as they walked, or even put an arm round her shoulders, but he never seemed inclined to kiss her. She told herself it didn’t matter, but despite feeling gay and carefree when she was with him – and sometimes even reckless when she made him laugh – there was nothing she could do to stall the flood of panic that sometimes overcame her when she was alone. In the middle of the night she would stare into the darkness and convince herself that any day now he would meet someone else. Someone he would want to kiss, someone he would want to make love to – and she, Marian, would be forgotten. But in the morning, when he called to tell her he would meet her from work, or take her to Bath or Weston-Super-Mare for the day, all her fears disappeared.

  Then one afternoon, while they were giggling at being ticked off for making a noise in the library, he told her he wouldn’t be able to see her for a week.

  Her heart started to pound and she knew that the day she’d been dreading had arrived. ‘I see,’ she breathed. Then she forced a smile before looking down at the book in front of her.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me why?’ he said.

  Keeping her eyes lowered, she shook her head.

  ‘I think I’ll tell you anyway. I’m taking my manuscript to a publisher. I’ve spoken to him on the phone and he’s interested enough to want to see me, and I can use the opportunity to sort out other business in London while I’m there.’

  Since she assumed that the other business meant a woman, this did nothing to cheer her, and when she saw him off on the train the next day, though she smiled bravely, her volcano was spent and her heart was a dull, leaden weight.

  When Madeleine came in early from work that night she found Marian crying on her bed.

  ‘Dumped you, has he?’ she said acidly.

  Marian looked up. Her face was ravaged. ‘I think so,’ she whispered.

  Madeleine tossed her bag on her own bed and went to sit on Marian’s. ‘Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you. If you must play out of your league, you must expect to lose.’

  ‘Don’t be nasty, Maddy,’ Marian said.

  Madeleine looked at her cousin’s face, and seeing how heartbroken she was, she felt herself start to soften. ‘Well you’ve always got me,’ she said. ‘That is, if I’m good enough for you now.’

  Marian sat up and put her arms round Madeleine. ‘You say the most ridiculous and the most monstrous things sometimes,’ she said, ‘but you’re more important to me than anyone else in the world.’

  Madeleine swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘I’m sorry about the past few weeks,’ she said. ‘But it’s over now, so shall we put it behind us, forget it ever happened?’

  Marian nodded, wishing she could.

  ‘If you like you can tell me about him,’ Madeleine said, as she was getting into bed. ‘I mean, what was he like? Did he make you come? I’ll bet he’s got a fantastic body, you lucky old cow. Fancy having someone like him for your first time!’ She sighed and gave a little shiver of lust. ‘You did do it, didn’t you?’ she said, when she realised Marian hadn’t answered.

  Marian was sitting up in bed, drinking the cocoa Madeleine had made. ‘No,’ she said quietly. ‘If you want to know the truth, he never even kissed me.’

  ‘What! Then what the hell did you do?’

  ‘We talked.’

  ‘Talked! What about?’

  ‘Everything.’

  ‘Bloody hell,’ Madeleine muttered. Then she shrugged, feeling rather pleased that her cousin hadn’t succeeded where she’d failed after all. ‘Where does he live?’ she asked.

  Marian looked down at her cup. ‘I don’t know,’ she answered. ‘He never told me.’

  ‘Didn’t you ask?’

  ‘Yes, but he always managed to avoid the question somehow.’

  ‘Oh,’ Madeleine said knowingly. ‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it? He’s married.’

  Marian felt crushed at having her own suspicions voiced. She put her cup down, and turning off her bedside lamp she said: ‘If you don’t mind, I don’t want to talk about him any more.’

  At seven o’clock the next morning he rang. And again at seven in the evening. His calls continued in that pattern until the following Monday, when he asked Marian to meet him at the station on Tuesday morning. She was so relieved that she didn’t sleep a wink all night and simply poked her tongue out at Madeleine when she said: ‘Haven’t you got any pride? He snaps his fingers and you go running like a faithful old dog. He doesn’t want you,’ she yelled as Marian put her coat on, ‘let’s face it, he can’t even get it up where you’re concerned.’

  The train arrived early and he was already waiting outside Temple Meads when she got there. She longed to run into his arms and have him spin her round the way they did in films, but she made do with his beaming smile and his arm draped loosely round her shoulders as they walked to the bus stop.

  ‘Madeleine thinks you’re married,’ she said as they rode through the city centre.

  He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Well Madeleine would, wouldn’t she? And what do you think?’

  ‘I think, I hope, you’re not.’

  ‘Well it’s my aim to make all your hopes and dreams come true.’

  ‘Does that mean you’re not?’

  He shook his head, his face still alight with amusement. ‘No, I’m not married,’ he said. Then looking into her eyes, he added, ‘At least, not yet.’

  Her heart erupted in a storm of incredulous happiness and she closed her eyes.

  ‘You haven’t asked me how I got on in London,’ he said.

  She turned to look at him. ‘Well?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. The editor I saw is going to give me a call sometime next week, when he’s read the script. Which reminds me, I gave him your telephone number, I hope you don’t mind.’

  ‘No, not in the least. But natural curiosity is going to make me ask why?’

  ‘Because, my darling, I am homeless. I called my landlady yesterday and she’s terminating my tenancy as of this Friday.’

  ‘Oh no!’ Marian gasped. ‘What will you do?’

  He shrugged. ‘At the moment I don’t know. But I’m sure I’ll come up with something.’ As the bus was approaching their stop he stood up and rang the bell. Marian noticed that the two girls sitting behind her were looking at him in awed admiration, and she felt herself go almost dizzy with pride.

  When they got to her flat, Madeleine was there with her friends Jackie and Sharon. They all looked at Paul as he followed Marian through the door; their lascivious appraisal of him, and their open coquetry, made her stomach churn. She went to make some coffee while Madeleine took Paul’s arm and sat him down. She couldn’t quite hear what they were asking him, but from their frequent shrieks of laughter she guessed that he was exercising his charm.

  When she joined them she felt even more awkward because there was nowhere for her to sit, so excusing herself, she went into the bedroom. A few minutes later there was a knock on the door and he came in.

  ‘You’re not jealous, are you?’ he teased when he saw her glum face.

  With a wry smile she said, ‘Yet again you’ve seen through me.’ She was sitting at the dressing-table and he went to stand behind her, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She turned awa
y, uncomfortable at the striking contrast between his beauty and her ordinariness.

  As she stood up he watched her walk past him, and when she reached the door he said, ‘Are you afraid of me?’

  She turned, her face showing only mild surprise at the question. ‘Sometimes,’ she answered frankly.

  He held out his hand, and when she took it he led her to the bed and sat her down. ‘Why?’ he asked, as he sat down next to her.

  ‘Truthfully?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘For the same reason I’m afraid of everyone else.’

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘I don’t think you’re going to like the answer much,’ she smiled, and seeing the sadness in her eyes, he squeezed her hand and ran the back of his fingers over her face. ‘It’s because people can be exceptionally cruel to people who look like me. It’s as if we don’t count. Because we aren’t beautiful, or attractive, we aren’t credited with feelings. You’d be amazed at some of the things I’ve had said to me – though most of the time I’m just ignored. No matter how often it happens I still can’t get used to it, and though I’m always half expecting it, it still comes as a shock. So I’m afraid of you – of people – because I’m ugly, and because I don’t like being hurt.’

  She was looking down at their entwined hands and tensed as a tear splashed onto his wrist. As he lifted her face she tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her, and when she looked up she found he was gazing straight into her eyes. As he moved slowly towards her, her mouth trembled. His lips were soft and tender and slightly parted. She closed her eyes as her own lips parted, and she felt his arm move round her shoulders as he pulled her closer. He kissed her again, caressing her mouth with his and tracing her jaw with his thumb as his fingers splayed through her hair.

  ‘Marian,’ he whispered, still holding her close, ‘you really don’t know how beautiful you are, do you? It shines from your eyes when you speak. It’s in your honesty and humility. It lives inside you like a light that will only be extinguished on the day you die.’

  They heard a giggle outside, and Marian sprang to her feet as the door opened.

  ‘Sorry if I’m interrupting something,’ Madeleine said, ‘but I need to get changed for work.’