So Long At the Fair

by Jess Foley

‘Well, why not?’ he said readily. ‘There’s nothing to stop you.’

  ‘I told him we must wait for the summer.’

  ‘You don’t need to do that. You can go any time.’

  ‘I suppose we could. But he wants you to go as well.’

  He spread his hands before him. ‘If I could get away I would. But you know how difficult it is for me.’

  ‘So you tell me.’

  He frowned. ‘What does that mean?’

  She stared at him, biting back the words that sprang to her lips. The room was suddenly so quiet that she was aware of the faint hissing of the gaslight.

  ‘Anyway,’ Louis said, ‘I should have thought you’d welcome the chance to go away with Oliver on your own for a while. Certainly you don’t seem to find much joy around here.’

  She nodded. ‘You’d like me to, wouldn’t you? Go away? That would leave you a clear view for a while: no commitments, no wife to see what time you leave and what time you come in.’ Then, unable to stop herself, she asked almost in the same breath, ‘Who is it you’re seeing, Louis? And please don’t insult my intelligence by denying it. You’re seeing someone, I know it.’

  When he did not answer she said, ‘Well, I just hope you’re not being too foolish. Doctors who consort with their patients are not highly regarded, I’m sure you’re aware of that. Just try not to bring disgrace down upon all of us.’ She glared at him, waiting for him to speak. ‘Well – aren’t you going to say something?’

  ‘Do I need to?’ he said, ‘You already seem to have all the answers. Though I will say,’ he added, ‘that she is not one of my patients – so you have no need to worry on that particular score.’

  She shook her head in wonder. ‘It’s amazing – you can be so cool about it all.’

  ‘You just said there’s no point in my denying it.’

  ‘Just – tell me who it is.’

  ‘It’s no one you know. Anyway, what purpose would it serve, your knowing?’

  ‘Don’t you think I have a right to know?’

  ‘Oh, Abbie, please,’ he said, a note of contempt in his voice, ‘spare me your self-righteousness – that holler-than-thou tone. And don’t let’s start talking about rights. in the eyes of the law there are certain rights I’ve been deprived of for a good while now.’

  ‘Ah,’ she said, stung. ‘I wondered how long it would be before you threw that up in my face.’

  ‘Abbie, you’re the one who started all this. If you insist on opening this Pandora’s box you mustn’t be surprised at what comes out. You brought up the subject in the first place.’

  She leaned forward in her chair, the half-mended stocking lying forgotten in her lap. ‘How can it be avoided when you creep off to see your – your paramour like this?’

  ‘Listen,’ he said evenly, ‘in case you’re in the least interested, let me remind you that I’m still a relatively young man, and I have a man’s usual desires. Although I’ve been denied a place in my marital bed I have not yet settled for celibacy. If you choose to turn away from me, then you shouldn’t be surprised if I go to someone who will not.’ He got up from his chair and stood looking down at her. ‘In any case, I hardly think it behoves you to castigate me for my behaviour. What about your own? Or are you of the opinion that if no one knows what you yourself have done it counts for nothing?’

  She frowned, momentarily taken aback. ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘I’m talking about you and your Mr Gilmore.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You heard what I said.’

  ‘I never heard such nonsense,’ she said. While her heart was pounding she tried to put contempt into her voice. ‘And why do you call him my Mr Gilmore? And what has he got to do with anything?’

  ‘Oh, Abbie, he’s got everything to do with it – to do with everything.’

  ‘I’m not going to listen to such foolishness,’ she said. Bending her head, avoiding his accusing glare, she picked up her mending.

  ‘You began this,’ he said, ‘and if it goes a little further than you would have wished then you have only yourself to blame. You should have let sleeping dogs lie. I’m talking about last January.’

  ‘Last January? What about it?’

  ‘The Sunday you went to see your brother in Flaxdown. When I went to assist with the Marston post-mortem. Do you remember it?’

  ‘Vaguely.’ She kept her head bent.

  ‘If you recall, there was a short, but rather violent snowstorm.’

  ‘And –?’

  ‘I remember that later on I asked you a few casual questions about your afternoon. And if I recall, you took me to task for being too inquisitive. I was aware, of course, of the reason for your – sensitivity.’

  Her heart still thumping, she raised her head. He was looking down at her, his eyes steady. He held her gaze as he said, ‘You were with Gilmore that afternoon, weren’t you?’

  She got up, throwing down the stocking as she did so. ‘I’m not listening to this. I’m going to bed.’

  She made to walk by him, but he stood up, reached out and took her by the wrist. Then as she moved to free herself, he clasped her other arm. ‘You have to listen.’

  They stood glaring at one another. ‘I can’t of course know for certain what happened between you that afternoon,’ he said, ‘but I’m sure one doesn’t need a very wild imagination to get near the truth. Human nature being what it is.’ She opened her mouth to speak but he added quickly, shutting off her words, ‘You see, when the snowstorm was over you were seen – the two of you – coming out of a barn. A barn on the property of a farmer on the Frome Road.’

  Her cheeks burning, she was dimly aware of him releasing his hold on her. ‘What liar told you this?’ she said.

  ‘No liar.’

  ‘Who told you?’

  ‘No one told me. It was I who saw you.’

  ‘– You?’

  He nodded. ‘The post-mortem didn’t take that long, and when Dr Grimmond and I had finished he asked me if I’d be kind enough to accompany him to see one of his patients who lived nearby, a certain Mr Cassin. He’d been ill for a couple of weeks and wasn’t responding to treatment as well as Grimmond had hoped. And Grimmond wanted a second opinion.’

  ‘What has this got to do with me?’

  ‘I’m coming to that. Grimmond left his carriage at the Marston house and we set off in mine to Cassin’s farm. The snow started to come down as we got near the farmhouse. I examined Mr Cassin, and afterwards his wife made us tea while we waited for the snow to ease. When it had stopped I went to look through the window – and to my great astonishment I saw you.’

  She remained silent in the face of his accusation while panic flashed through her.

  ‘Yes,’ Louis went on. ‘I saw a figure in the distance – a woman’s figure – walking away from the farm in the direction of the main road. And although you were quite some distance away I recognized you at once by your coat. I realized of course what had happened – you’d been on your way back from Flaxdown and had taken shelter from the snow. Nothing wrong in that. Anyway, I was just about to get my coat and go after you, when I saw him, the man. He was a couple of minutes behind you, but he was walking in the same direction.’ He came to a halt, waiting for Abbie’s reaction.

  ‘You said I was seen coming out of a barn,’ she said. ‘But now you say I was just seen walking near the farm.’

  ‘I know you’d been in the barn,’ he said. ‘I know it because a little later I went out into the yard – to all intents and purposes to go to the stable to check on the horse – and I walked up towards where I’d seen you and the man going by. I saw your footprints in the snow. And his. And I saw that they all came from the barn. Later, when Grimmond and I drove back out onto the road there was no sign of you. Obviously you’d found your cab by then. I did see your friend, though, walking alone at the side of the road. I didn’t know who he was, but Grimmond put me wise. He knew the man by sight, and told me his name was Gilmore. Arthur Gi
lmore.’ A pause and a nod. ‘I’m glad you’re not foolish enough to deny it.’

  Staring down at the carpet Abbie said, ‘I’m not denying it. But why should you assume that because we took shelter in the barn together something – took place between us?’

  He said nothing for a moment, then he reached out, put a hand under her chin and lifted her head. ‘Will you swear to it?’ he said.

  She made no answer, but with a sudden, violent blow dashed his hand away.

  ‘I thought as much,’ he said.

  ‘It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t like that at all.’

  ‘Was it not?’ He gave a faint smile. ‘Have it your way, my dear.’

  ‘Louis, please –’

  ‘Abbie,’ he broke in, ‘I really don’t care that much any more.’

  ‘But we didn’t – we didn’t . . .’ She let her words tail off.

  ‘You didn’t what? What are you trying to say?’

  ‘We didn’t – things didn’t – go that far . . .’

  He gave a short, humourless laugh. ‘Oh, so things didn’t go that far, huh? That’s rich, that is. Well, things obviously went some way. Or why else should you be so secretive, so guilt-ridden, so defensive.’ He shook his head. ‘And you have the nerve to be moralistic with me – to remind me of my position and tell me not to bring shame upon you. You’re astonishing, Abbie. That night – the night after you had been with him, Gilmore – you insisted on sleeping in the guest room. I didn’t say anything, but I don’t mind telling you that that, coming on top of what I had just that day discovered, hurt me very much.’ He forward, as if in bewilderment. ‘This thing you’ve got for Gilmore – I don’t understand it. When we married I thought it would be only a matter of time before you got him out of your system. I thought that if I did all the right things you would surely come to love me in time. I thought I would earn your love. But I was wrong, wasn’t I?’ He sighed. ‘I wonder now whether you’ll ever be free of him. I feel as if I don’t know you any more. It’s as if I’m married to a stranger.’ He put a hand on either side of her face and stood gazing at her, his eyes burning into her own. ‘Where have you been these past three and a half years? Not with me, that’s for sure.’

  She said nothing.

  ‘You love him, don’t you?’ he said.

  ‘Please, Louis.’

  ‘Tell me. Then I’ll know what it is I have to fight. You love him, don’t you? Tell me the truth.’

  She did not answer, and he released her, letting his hands fall to his sides. ‘Go on, then. You’re so anxious to get away. Go on to your celibate bed. Get out of my sight before I do something I might regret.’

  Summoning all her dignity, she turned and moved towards the door. As she reached it his voice came:

  ‘I don’t think I can fight it, Abbie. Sometimes I don’t even feel that he’s real. Sometimes I feel you’re obsessed not with him but with a ghost. And how can I fight that?’

  Over the days following, Abbie did her best to avoid Louis. Her feelings were an uncomfortable mixture of resentment, bitterness and guilt, and she despaired of the situation ever improving. She toyed briefly with the idea of going away – of just taking Oliver and leaving – but stopped short of any serious consideration of the act. For one thing she had no idea where she could go. And even if there were a ready refuge she could not remain there. For how would she support Oliver and herself? Besides, her own desires apart, such a course would be too cruel. Oliver and Louis loved one another deeply and she could not in all conscience separate them.

  Then, several weeks later, on a Sunday afternoon in late June, matters came to a head.

  Oliver, in the care of Maria, had gone out for a walk in the sun. Abbie had just seen them off and was sitting in her room, reading. There came a tap on her door and when she called out Louis entered.

  ‘Abbie,’ he said immediately, ‘we have to talk.’

  ‘Oh, Louis, must we?’ she said. ‘This is all so upsetting and –’

  ‘You think I enjoy it?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ She closed her book and put it on the table at her side.

  Louis said, ‘You don’t think I’ve been happy these past weeks, months, do you? I assure you I have not.’

  ‘I don’t imagine you have been.’

  ‘Not for a moment. And neither have you.’ He moved to the bed and sat down. ‘We’ve got to be adult about this. We can’t just keep running away from the situation.’

  ‘No, I suppose not.’

  ‘We have to try to reach some sort of understanding. For Ollie’s sake if for nothing else. Don’t you agree?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Who knows, we might even be able to find some degree of contentment if we try hard enough. It can’t be worse than this. The silences between us; the cool politeness when we’re together. Wouldn’t you like things to be easier?’

  ‘It goes without saying.’

  He gave a little nod. ‘Then just tell me something. Tell me what it is you want.’

  ‘What do I want?’

  ‘Tell me. Because I don’t know. I’m not being melodramatic. I’m just trying to find out what we should do – what’s best for the three of us.’

  ‘Oh, Louis,’ she said, ‘do you think this is getting us anywhere? It’s not only me. It’s obvious that the whole thing has turned out to be a bitter disappointment to you. Perhaps the simple truth is that we’re just . . . not right for one another. Perhaps you expected too much.’

  He frowned. ‘I? Expected too much? Abbie, with the love I felt for you I –’

  ‘Ah,’ she said, ‘you speak of the love you felt for me. You speak of your love for me in the past tense.’

  ‘For God’s sake,’ he said, ‘what do you expect from me? Do you want to reject me and still have me protest undying devotion? You can’t have it all ways.’ When she said nothing he added, ‘It wasn’t always like this. Before we were married we were such good friends. And with our marriage I had such high hopes – particularly when Oliver came.’ He paused. ‘Most people would think we’ve got everything we need to make us happy. But for you it’s not enough, is it?’

  She remained silent.

  ‘You must get rid of this obsession, Abbie,’ he said.

  ‘What obsession is this?’

  ‘You know what I’m talking about. What are you going to do, spend the rest of your life hankering after something that’s never going to be yours? Because Gilmore will never be yours. Never. You don’t think he’s going to give up his wife and child, do you? Give up everything in order to set up house with you – in a state of unmarried bliss?’

  ‘Don’t be tasteless,’ she said. ‘It’s not becoming.’

  ‘Abbie, for your own sake you must give it up. It’s a wild-goose chase. And if you’re not careful it will destroy you – and you’d better watch out that it doesn’t destroy others as well.’

  ‘I thought you said just now you didn’t want to be melodramatic.’

  ‘I’m not. But what’s left of our marriage? Tell me. We can’t keep avoiding things just because they’re not pretty to look at. I don’t know where we go from here. I don’t know what to do for the best any more. I only know this is no good for either one of us or for Ollie. If we go on like this we’ll end up hating one another. I don’t know about you, but I’d like to save our marriage. To that end, for what it’s worth, I forgive you. And I –’

  Her voice heavy with irony, she said, ‘Oh, that’s most kind of you. How magnanimous you are.’

  ‘Please,’ he said, frowning, ‘– let me finish. I was going to say that just because you’ve been at fault doesn’t make it right for me to transgress also. And I have been at fault too. I can’t pretend otherwise.’

  ‘I’m glad you admit it.’

  He shook his head. ‘This isn’t easy, you know. If we are to salvage anything then I think we have to start with forgiveness of past wrongs. Don’t you think so?’

  She gave a grudging nod of acquie
scence. ‘Yes.’

  Looking at her steadily he said, ‘I might as well tell you, Abbie, that I would never give Oliver up.’

  She bridled. ‘Why should you? Why do you say that? Have I ever asked you to consider such a thing?’

  ‘No – but I want to put my cards on the table . . . so you’ll have less chance of misunderstanding me.’

  ‘I think I understand you well enough,’ she said.

  ‘I wonder.’ He was silent for a moment, then he said, ‘Anyway – think about things. Perhaps you need a little time.’

  ‘Time?’

  ‘Yes, without me being around. I thought it might not be a bad thing if you and Oliver took a little vacation.’

  ‘Oh? Where?’

  ‘That’s up to you. Wherever you want to go. Perhaps to the coast. Maybe Brighton or Southend. Go to a hotel somewhere for a month or so, or rent a house. It’s up to you. He’s keen to go, you said so.’

  ‘If I do go away how do you think it will help us?’

  ‘Well – at least you’ll have time to think things over. And I think you need that.’

  ‘What are you hoping will come out of it, my going away? That I’ll be like St Paul on the road to Damascus? There’ll be some great revelation and I’ll suddenly come to my senses?’

  ‘I’m trying to help us, Abbie,’ he said. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’d like to try and save our marriage before it’s too late. But if you’ve got different ideas . . .’ There was anger now in his face. ‘I’m trying to offer a solution to a very real problem. But perhaps I’m just wasting my energy; perhaps I’m simply flogging a dead horse.’ Turning, he stalked out of the room.

  That night Abbie, wearing her dressing gown over her nightdress, sat in the drawing-room, a tray of tea beside her. It was almost two o’clock. The house was very quiet. The servants had gone to bed long ago. Feeling restless, she had been unable to sleep and in the end had come downstairs. She was waiting now for Louis’s return. Just before eight he had been summoned by a local midwife to the bedside of an expectant mother, the young wife of a farmhand.

  Since their talk that afternoon Abbie had thought a great deal about the situation between Louis and herself, and she realized that he had been right in so many of the things he had said. Why, then, had she been so disagreeable in her response? No wonder he had stormed out of the room. There was an old saying that guilt turned to hostility. Is that what had happened with her? Had the hostility she had shown been born out of her sense of guilt? Whatever it was or whatever its cause, it had solved nothing – that much she was sure of. Left alone to think things over, she had come to realize that much of what he had said made sense. They had to make an effort now or their marriage would soon be beyond saving.