The Society Game

by H. Lanfermeijer

  The other occupants were ornamental angels. They were scattered across the house on every windowsill, stair, fireplace mantel – I even found a green fairy poking its head out between the outflow pipe of the downstairs toilet and the toilet bleach.

  To my orderly view, Carolanne and Toby led a chaotic life, flitting from one spontaneous idea to the next. Toby worked part time as an accountant but he was dedicated to brewing his own beer and had aspirations of setting up his own beer company with Dan, his neighbour. Carolanne spent her days tending her vegetable patch and meeting friends at either her gardening club or dog walking club and had aspirations of starting her own dog grooming company with Kate, another neighbour.

  I was welcome in their house but I felt anxious that I was an inconvenience. I mitigated this by offering to help with cooking or shopping for them, but it was always politely refused.

  ‘You’re our guest, please just relax; treat this home as your own and let your spirit grow and your soul to find new peace.’

  It was not long before I began to regret my choice of packed clothes. I had packed as an angry woman preoccupied with how unfair my life was. I had robotically stuffed the usual items in my bag such as a teal cocktail dress, silver sling back stilettoes, teamed with a silver pashmina. It was only after a week of living with Carolanne and Toby in their little cottage that I realised the grey tracksuit bottoms, which were taken out of the bag to make room for the red patent evening shoes that matched another red cocktail dress was, in hindsight, a foolish option.

  After a fortnight Carolanne organised an intervention. I knew something was going to happen as she had returned home with strawberries, cream and some scones.

  At midday your mother arrived clutching a tin of homemade shortbread. Shortly after, Tatiana knocked on the door with a bottle of pink champagne. We were ushered into the drawing room and we all sat around the coffee table prepared for afternoon tea.

  ‘I didn’t know any of you were coming,’ I said. ‘I would have changed, I’m sorry these trousers are…’

  ‘Olive, you look fine and even if you didn’t, none of us would care. Sit down,’ declared your mother.

  ‘Now,’ began Carolanne, who had evidently assumed the position of chairwoman for this meeting. ‘Sadly, James can’t make it today but he has assured me that everything we decide he will support. Also, I have lavender oil diffusing and if it’s too much then let me know but try and relax, sweetie.’

  ‘Too much, turn it off.’

  ‘The diffuser isn’t for you, Tatiana, so shut-up and put up,’ said my sister. ‘Lovely as always, by the way Carol; bumper harvest of lavender like last year? Colin’s sock drawer sachet still smells of your garden. Anyway, enough of me, decisions to be made, decisions to be made.’

  ‘On what?’ I tentatively offered.

  ‘On sorting you out. And about time, dear sister.’

  ‘Okay, okay, Janet! Now sweetie, it’s not a case of sorting you out but, instead, offering you a way to find your path. We need you to find inner guidance which will take you towards the right light at this crossroads in your life,’ said Carolanne in a gentle meditative tone.

  I flinched at the prospect that I was about to be lectured at, especially from Carolanne. She had recently qualified as a holistic teacher and together with her dog-walking, she also wanted to begin her own company as a life coach, called, ‘Peace Within’. Alongside all her angels were various crystals and stones. She even placed rose quartz in her water to absorb its healing energy, known as ‘spirit water’.

  ‘Find inner strength from your guardian angels. I’ve connected with mine and I truly feel at one,’ she had said on a few occasions, though I suspected if I had tried to connect with my guardian angel, I would merely have received their name card with the slogan, ‘Whatever, I’m out shopping.’

  ‘I know all of this, I just need to get myself sorted; my head is still spinning but as soon as it slows down then I can get myself, you know, in the zone and in search of inner peace, just as you’ve already advised me to do Carol,’ I promised.

  ‘We know you will but we want to offer you our support and love to make this bumpy road a little smoother.’

  ‘What Carolanne is trying to say,’ interrupted Janet, ‘is we’ve found you a house. It’s only temporary but it’s pretty and until the divorce comes through, it’s affordable. I’ve discussed it with Colin and we can just about cover the rent for you.’

  ‘I second that,’ said Carolanne.

  Janet then nodded to me and then Carolanne nodded and then they both nodded and smiled in unison. Tatiana winked at me and sipped on her champagne.

  ‘That’s really sweet but I’m sure Mark will find me a place. I doubt he wants me around anymore anyway…’

  Once more I began to sob as the prospect of divorce trickled into my head. I had contemplated it on many occasions but to hear it from friends stung my brain and the only way I could sooth the pain was to cry.

  ‘He won’t pay for a penny, sweetie.’

  This was the first time Tatiana had uttered a word. Her spindly body was slouched back in the arm chair and her hand clasped her glass as a gesture of defiance to sober people across the land.

  ‘After all,’ she continued, ‘has he even contacted you?’ All three ladies stared at me waiting for my response and reluctantly I shook my head, no.

  ‘I didn’t think he had. Then you have to ask yourself, Ol, why? Could it be that he is too angry to respond to your disappearance?’ she said.

  ‘Or maybe he’s too embarrassed by his behaviour and he’s mustering up the confidence to call me?’ I replied, to which they all scoffed.

  ‘Or maybe, sweetie, he hasn’t noticed you have gone.’

  Tatiana’s synopsis of Mark’s lack of response made the bee sting in my head burrow deeper and again I flinched and quietly sobbed a little more.

  ‘Either way, darling, we all know the type of man he is and his money lives with him. He has sewn every penny he owns to the veins in his body. He will not rip off one coin to voluntarily give to you and his lawyers are there to ensure he doesn’t have to – even if it means whipping you in the courts until you are the one who bleeds like a pathetic school child at the mercy of the school bully. You will hurt trying.’

  ‘A bit harsh, Tatiana!’ declared Carolanne, ‘Let us not focus on that as it is a bridge…’

  ‘Or tidal wave,’ interrupted Tatiana.

  ‘No, let us just concentrate on the now. Let us focus on you and bring your new life to you. The house is perfect and I heard only this morning that Dave, the baker in the village, is in need of a full time assistant or I know that Jean at the National Trust shop needs a hand, so there are jobs out there to set you up,’ soothed Carolanne.

  ‘A job?!’ I screeched. ‘Sorry I didn’t mean it to come out that way, but I don’t know about a job. It’s just that I haven’t worked in nearly fifteen years, since we were first married. I wouldn’t know where to start!’

  ‘You start by turning up,’ said Janet. ‘And if you can’t do that then you sell the emblems of your marriage – those diamond earrings can go for a start. That’ll pay for a couple of months’ rent.’

  ‘Noo!’ I said instinctively as I grabbed my earlobes. ‘I’d rather just wait to see if Mark will give me something. I know you think he wouldn’t but he’s not that heartless, he wouldn’t leave me destitute,’ I prayed.

  It was a pointless plea to my friends as if I was pleading to the jury after the verdict had been passed.

  ‘Ahh, Olivia, listen to yourself!’ Janet’s tone was dismissive ‘Always the same! You’ve always wanted to take the easy way out. “I know,” you think, “I’ll see what everyone else will give me,” – well not now. In your middle age you can start to mother yourself not let others parent you.’

  ‘You can do it, sweetie,’ Carolanne said as sweetly as Janet’
s words were bitter.

  I tried to dodge further awkward questions from my hostess and eventually she turned to my sister and said that I need time to contemplate my new beginning. Janet agreed and helped clear the coffee table declaring that the strawberries were delicious for this time of year and that it was surprising how sweet they were considering it was out of season for this fruit.

  They left the room chatting about the state of the vines in their garden whilst balancing tea cups, plates of scones and cake in their hands.

  Tatiana slipped the last of her champagne down her throat.

  ‘You know they have found a cottage and they have, indeed, already found a job for you within walking distance of the house. The eighteenth century terraced cottage is nestled down an alleyway with a willow tree in the front garden. In the village, you can buy your eggs and milk from the farm shop by the church. Your evenings will be gentle, maybe watching television or simply watching the sunset over the corn fields behind your house. Occasionally you’ll venture out after dark for a church social event, but don’t worry, they will never be a raucous event as there are too few people in the village to fill the church hall. Your hobbies will dwindle to baking and walking but when you feel the loss of your past you can smile, just a little, that at least you wouldn’t have to endure the occasional visits from Mark.’

  Tatiana looked at me and leaned in so that I would catch her whisper.

  ‘Are you looking forward to that life, my friend?’

  I shrugged and looked towards the door that muffled the laughter from Carolanne and my sister about how difficult it is to get scones to break in the middle.

  ‘Don’t shrug. I know you, my sweet, you wouldn’t last in that life. You would shrivel away and ‘Olivia the Spinster’ would rise triumphant. You wouldn’t be recognisable shrouded in a brown oversized cardigan and sensible shoes. Your electric blanket would be your prized possession as it will be the only thing left to keep you warm at night. Your hair would frizz to a grey wool hat with a bun for its bobble. Lines would quickly etch their way across your face and you would stoop under the growing weight of boredom upon your tiny frame.

  ‘Tell me, Olivia, is this what you crave instead of the exciting beautiful world Mark gave you?’

  ‘I’m nothing to Mark and it’s driving me insane. He left me in my room.’

  ‘So? You escaped. He’s not stupid, he knows you’re resourceful and you’d be free soon enough – as you were! He didn’t murder you did he? He didn’t hold your throat in his hands and squeeze? He didn’t beat you until you bled? He didn’t shake you until your head burst? No? Instead once more, my friend, you have everything you could possibly wish for the payment of supporting a selfish man. Is it worth leaving him for that little personality trait?

  I knew Carolanne and Janet would try and convince you to trial their life without any consideration that to do so, you would have to abandon your life. And pay attention, Ol, this is your life and if you choose to snuff it out then there’ll be no chance to resurrect it. Mark won’t take you back and instead he will stamp on your grave in revenge for leaving him.’

  Before I could answer, Carolanne and Janet walked back in.

  ‘One thing’s for sure, Ol, at least you have left that monster,’ declared my sister. ‘I was just saying to Carolanne whilst loading the dishwasher, at least you are free from the man I wish you’d never met – let alone married. I say it to Colin regularly, why couldn’t you have met someone like my Colin? Colin is wonderful and I couldn’t care less that he has less money than a bankrupt banker caught by the taxman.’

  ‘He’s not that bad,’ I retaliated, ‘Mark I mean, he’s not that bad. He may not hold me the way Colin does you but I know Mark cares for me.’

  ‘Rubbish, rubbish! Am I really hearing this?’ Janet clasped her head then shook her hands at me. ‘How can you say that? You maybe my sister but the years of being married to that man has made you blind. The man doesn’t love or even respect you and finally – FINALLY, you have left him and the people who do love you are here for you.’

  ‘Stop it,’ I shouted, ‘I’m not a child you can bully anymore, Janet.’

  ‘Oh, stop crying, Ol! As usual it’s world of Olivia with her glossy glasses on. Well take them off and see what’s really around you.’

  Carolanne came to my side.

  ‘Please don’t think we’re ganging up on you, sweetie,’ she soothed.

  ‘I’m sorry but I’m here,’ I whimpered, ‘because I had a disagreement with my husband.’

  ‘A disagreement! A disagreement? Listen to yourself, sis, this was not a disagreement over who puts the washing away or who puts the rubbish out. The man locked you in your room after bringing prostitutes back to your house for the enjoyment of his perverted business friends and you were there to serve them. This is not a marriage; it’s a man and his brothel bitch!’

  ‘You’ve got it wrong, it’s not that bad.’ I meekly offered as a counter offer to her appraisal of my marriage. It was all I had for a defence, however, I didn’t expect this to reduce my big sister to tears.

  ‘You can’t believe that!’ she screamed. She didn’t wait for an answer but instead stormed out of the room and out of the house.

  The next few days were spent mulling over their offer of a new life for me and whether this would be a sensible turn. I felt discombobulated as for the last fifteen years I had been sailing down life’s river on a yacht in comparison to everyone else’s rowing boat. If I was to change course then it could only mean jumping off onto a dinghy with one oar. This hand brake turn could mean returning to the sandbank of yesteryear if my dinghy crashed into the side. I didn’t want to return to watching others sail by as I sat in the mud unable to move.

  Was Mark a cruel husband or was it just his personality to have rages against people he loves?

  ‘Maybe I should be grateful that this is just the way he shows his love for me. He has no one else to vent his frustrations on,’ I said to Carolanne over breakfast on the following Sunday.

  ‘You don’t really believe that do you, sweetie? ‘

  ‘I know it sounds ridiculous… ‘

  ‘Yes very!’

  I pressed on over dinner on Tuesday.

  ‘…Yes but, you don’t see how tired he gets and we all need someone to release our frustrations on. Isn’t love understanding how a person displays their worries of life as well as tenderness when calm?’

  ‘We all need support but respect should never be absent – which it is with Mark,’ replied my friend.

  By Wednesday morning Carolanne was already shaking her head, ‘no’ before I had uttered one word in Mark’s defence, but I persevered.

  ‘We all behave differently to events in our life and our partners are there to recognise this and understand our reactions. I understand him and although I don’t like how he behaves, surely I should respect that this is just his personality… he’s under so much pressure at work Carol. Really it’s how everyone behaves.’

  ‘Then I pity all the other partners. Olivia, you can’t disguise his venomous ways under the pretence that it’s just his personality. He lives in a society with a plethora of rules on how we treat each other but he chooses to ignore all of them. We don’t hide behind a personality trait to justify our actions. He chose to lock you in your bedroom. He chose to bring back women in front of you and he chooses every day to ignore the main rule, which is to respect one another, to respect you, his wife. Life is not a trial with a right action and a wrong action, my sweet; instead it should be an easy choice to love.’

  The jury had left a note on the side of the bench before they left and it simply read, ‘guilty’. I was defending a man and a life that had already been taken down to the gallows. My breath was wasted arguing in an empty room, so I shut up and helped Carolanne hull winter peas picked from her allotment.

  The following week
I watched Carolanne and Toby work together in the garden. I noticed how my elegant beautiful friend would catch a wink from her husband. I saw Toby, a cheerful, stocky, balding man, offer gentle hugs and sweet kisses whenever he could give his lips to her rosy cheeks. And I observed how she would smile to herself long after he had left her side.

  I watched with envy at their love for one another but I also observed how everyday they struggled to pay their bills. Their cottage needed repairs and Carolanne needed new clothes as well as a hair appointment to cover her invasion of grey. She seemed oblivious to these worries and I assumed it was because she loved the man who shared her life.

  If I was to leave my house with my swimming pool and my new Porsche Cayenne then I too would be submerged into a similar life to Carolanne, but with the difference that I would not have a man’s love to disguise my crumbling house or my greying hair. I would forfeit my hairdresser, my stylist, my beautician, my surgeon, my luncheon friends with the restaurants I frequent and I would lose the man I had been married to for over fifteen years. He had rewarded me with a lavish life of cars, clothes and credit cards for the price of an absent husband or a snarling companion. In comparison to poverty and worry then was it not a small price to pay?

  That Sunday was a crisp, cold, bright sunny day. In celebration of the end of autumn Toby and Carolanne decided to host a British winter barbecue. The brioche buns were bought and the hand-made chili and sundried tomato beef burgers were made the night before. By 11am the pasta, green and three bean salads were made in anticipation for the sun pushing its way through the white sky.

  As the coals were lit and guests arrived, it became apparent the sun was remaining firmly behind locked clouds. Cardigans and jumpers under thick coats were thrown on as Pimms were poured and a keg of Toby’s beer was opened. Janet and Colin were part of the party of twenty or so and when she saw me Janet hugged me in place of a ‘hello’.

  Carolanne’s friends from her allotment, badminton club and various other clubs and wives of Toby’s beer club all gathered around the new face at the party. I didn’t feel threatened at their questions as they were all lovely genuine ladies who preferred digging the earth than judging others. Tina, one of the badminton ladies, who also worked at the Fairmont National Trust shop, commented on my cardigan and whether it was from M&S. I smiled at this short round lady with small round-rimmed glasses perched on her button nose;