"She was obviously just putting something away, Phil."
Sally was unfazed and perhaps it was unreasonable of him, but he felt he had the right to a private life. So, he'd moved the condoms and the bank-statements - Sally's underwear was a matter for her - and he'd put innocuous books and stationary in their place, but suddenly the mischievous side of him had come up with a wicked idea - one that had him tittering childishly to himself. He'd been on the Internet and ordered a generously proportioned fluorescent dildo, a pair of furry-handcuff's and a riding crop - also rather a racy and graphically illustrated book that went through a wide variety of sexual positions and "fringe" practices. He would never in a million years have had the nerve to buy these things from a shop, even had there been one within fifty miles of Middleton, but the Internet made such things relatively easy.
He would give Mrs Nosy Parker a shock, he thought - burn her fingers hopefully, but also give her something worthwhile reporting back - have Sally's father in a fluster and asking awkward questions. So they thought he was an idiot with his hat and his ear defenders, did they? Well, let them think he was a sex maniac as well!
Chapter 8
"Remove shirt please."
Phil responded eagerly. It was the most exquisite part of the week, having Doctor Lin massage his back, and not in a sexual-fantasy sort of way either. It just felt so damned good, and it was all he could do to prevent himself moaning with pleasure as she went to work on him.
"Enjoy Tai Chi?"
"Very much," he replied. "Though there's obviously a lot to learn. I'll definitely be there on Sunday. Have you been doing it long?"
"All my life," she said. "Learn from early age. Prevention better than cure? This is my understanding."
"Yes, quite right."
"You practice at home?"
"Erm, a little," he lied. He'd begun to warm up one evening, but found the children gawking at him in amazement. Then Marty had sneered at him and begun mimicking the arm movements in a ridiculously wooden and insulting way. Sally had raised her eyes in dismay at his embarrassing actions and had told him later that under no circumstances was he ever to let the neighbours catch him doing it.
"Actually, my family think I'm mad," he said.
"Yes, this is my understanding."
"No,… my family,… ."
"Yes, yes, relax now, Mr Markham. Your neck is very stiff today. Problems at work?"
"Just,… problems. Life, you know?"
"Ah yes. Life. Keep up with Tai Chi. Must practice, Mr Markham. Make you a new man!"
The next Sunday, Phil actually felt light hearted as he drove to Robin Hill and the community centre. He'd carved out a piece of time for himself, away from his family. It was the first time he'd ever done it and he didn't feel guilty at all. His light heartedness was only slightly dented when Caroline's Corsa pulled up smartish, right beside him, on the carpark. She was a persistent one, this Caroline, he thought. Couldn't she see he was onto her? He hastened his exit, locked the car and stepped away briskly before she had the chance to catch his eye - not that she would, I mean that was ridiculous: this was Caroline after all. Had he waited for her, she would have cut him dead and made him feel a fool.
Phil took up a position in the hall between a twinkly Lara Walters and the Hairy Bear Man. Lara smiled a warmly at him and the Hairy Bear Man gave him a faint nod which he took as a triumph of recognition. Then Caroline stood directly behind him. That felt really bad, having her eyes on him, so he removed his watch and walked to the side of the hall, under pretence of putting it in his jacket, which lay on a bench. Then he took up a position a comfortable distance away from her.
The class began with the warm-up exercises that had so embarrassed his family, then Dr Lin began to talk about a movement called Silk Reeling, which she proceeded to demonstrate with a slow sweeping hand movement that Phil found immediately mesmerising, and he knew he'd enjoy doing it. His hands were already itching to follow.
After half an hour of Silk Reeling, Phil was feeling very pleased with himself but then, to his dismay, Dr Lin called him out to the front so she could demonstrate another technique called Push Hands. This involved the gentle interlocking of his wrists with Doctor Lin's and both he and she moving their hands in a slow cyclical action, as if trying to ward each other off, each trying to feel the other's intentions, and moving gently to counter them. Then, elbows came into it and it was as if he was dancing with her, hands pushing, elbows rolling, bodies swaying. The feeling was exquisite, like he was exploring her energy and her balance, and laying his own bare to her, but he was unused to being centre stage and it made him sweat nervously. Doctor Lin smiled encouragingly, and told him to close his eyes. The motion continued and the feeling was mesmerising. It was like playing, he thought. Pointless, Sally would have called it, but it was magical, and also intimate in a unique way. Body language revealed much about the lay of a person's thoughts, a person's feelings. Push Hands, Phil reckoned was like plugging directly into a person's body language, while at the same time allowing them to plug into yours.
The students were embarrassed, praying Dr Lin wouldn't expect them to pair off and try it. That wasn't what they expected from a Tai Chi class at all. Phil was vaguely aware of their shuffling and the clearing of throats but beyond that, he was lost in a maze of swirling energy, his mind transposed to a point located somewhere in the light pressure between him and Doctor Lin’s wrists.
She stopped suddenly and turning to everyone, she smiled. "Now, find someone you like the look of," she joked. "And practice."
They were an even number which meant Phil had to rejoin the group to pair someone else off. He'd had it in mind that he'd be comfortable with Lara, or for some peculiar reason with the hairy bear man, but the two of them had already paired off together. Phil was at a loss, turning this way and that only to find that the others had already made their choices. He felt a moment of abandonment, like a child at school that no one wanted to play with, but then a pair of wrists were suddenly thrust at him.
"I'm Penny," said Caroline. "Penny Barnes."
Oh shit, thought Phil. "Hi Penny. I'm Phil."
She smiled. "Hi Phil."
Damn that smile! He'd been happy to imagine her as frosty and sour and standoffish with her scowls, but the smile suggested her tight expression was simply nerves - that underneath, she might actually be friendly. Was there such a thing as a friendly Caroline, he wondered? Oh Lord,… perhaps this was a new approach.
Phil and Penny closed their eyes and made tentative contact. Then they began to move their hands as Dr Lin had shown them, circling back and forth, their wrists only just touching, the pair of them feeling the warm union of their skin, both their minds focused on it. They were clumsy at first and kept losing contact, but gradually, they got the hang of it, moving this way and that, swapping hands suddenly, trying to move back and forth as gracefully as Doctor Lin had shown them - testing each other's balance. When she leaned into him, he could smell her breath and her skin, sweet and soapy, smell her hair, which she'd gathered into two makeshift pony tails that made her look both cute and carelessly ridiculous. She felt warm, her movements smooth and fluid, while Phil was conscious of a slight tremor in his arm. He hoped she couldn't feel that and think him ancient and doddery - not that it mattered what she thought of course because this was only Caroline after all.
It was magical for a while but then Phil felt awkward. He had never touched a woman this way before - I mean just played with her. He wondered if it was altogether proper - wondered if Sally would have approved if she'd seen them together like that - or if she'd have stormed off to her father's house in a fit of jealous pique.
"It's like dancing," said Phil.
"Feels almost as good as sex," chuckled Penny.
Phil opened his eyes in surprise, but hers remained closed. She wasn't flirting; she'd just blurted it out without thinking, and she was right - the feel of it - it had been a kind of lovemaking! Whoever this Caroline was, she w
as rather cheeky - and Phil liked that.
"Sorry," she said, suddenly fumbling. "I don't know why I said that." She stepped back. "I didn't mean,… Oh, how embarrassing!"
"Eh? Don’t be daft. It's okay, really."
During the practice, her face had grown relaxed and soft, transforming her into someone else entirely, but now she grew tense again. Phil was amazed by it and wondered if he did the same. It was as if, for a moment he'd been gazing at the face of a woman's innocence, a girl's face, a face unwearied by life, a face unworn. And then the content of her life had flooded back and disfigured it.
She was aware of him staring at her, but didn't know what it meant, so she frowned and looked down at her feet. Phil didn't know what to say, so he looked at his feet too, and Doctor Lin mercifully called time. Then they stood apart from each other, but not quite so far as to risk offending the other. It was odd, thought Phil - the most peculiar thing!
Finally, they followed everyone else in the closing moves, raising their arms slowly, then lowering them, breathing in and out, sinking the energy into their Dan Tien. But judging from the way Penny shot off afterwards, Phil guessed she was anything but calm. Indeed he imagined her cringing with embarrassment, though it was quite unnecessary, and wished that she could see that. He wasn't some sober, scowling, stiff-ass. He liked a bit of fun!
The thing that really troubled him in all of this was he'd gone to a lot of trouble convincing himself she was just another Caroline, yet out of sixteen people in the hall that morning, she had chosen him to do Push Hands with, which meant she couldn't be a Caroline at all, could she?. He might have tried for weeks to stand next to her, just on the off chance of them sparring together, but the week it came to doing Push Hands, Caroline would have been away, or she would have turned quickly to the Hairy Bear Man, or to Lara Walters instead, or indeed anybody - except him.
Phil made a point of letting her go, and stayed instead for tea. He poured out a cup for Lara Walters, then offered to pour one for the Hairy Bear Man, out of politeness, and was surprised when the normally reticent, giant of a man gave a nod. "Thank you, Philip." he said.
"I quite enjoyed that," said Lara, as the three of them sat down together.
Phil smiled. It seemed he was still capable of making friends. Lara enjoyed the tea and chat as much as the practice and he guessed it was her nature to take pleasure out of anything life offered. She wore a wedding ring and he wondered what sort of wife a woman like this would have made - a smile and a twinkle and a comforting hand. But Sally had been that way once, hadn't she? It was just that life had darkened her - life with him, he thought, sadly. But he was no wife-beater! He treated Sally with the same decency and respect he treated anyone - never raising his voice, never pestering her in bed when she was clearly tired and unresponsive. What more could a man do, for pity's sake?
"Do you manage to practice much, Philip?" asked Lara.
He sighed. "Well, I've tried, but my family seem to find it all very embarrassing. The children are only having a bit of fun, I suppose, but it's hard to get into the feel of it when they're dancing around and pulling faces at you, or pretending to ride their bikes straight at you and pulling away at the last minute."
Lara's twinkle faded for a moment before sparkling up again. "But what about your wife dear?"
Phil smiled, he'd not meant to sound morose. "Sally's being a bit weird about it to be honest. I'm sure she thinks I'm turning into a new age flake, waving my arms up and down in the garden. I've tried explaining it's about circulation and synchronised breathing rather than appeasing the garden spirits, but she's definitely worried about me."
Was she worried, thought Phil, or merely repulsed?
The Hairy Bear Man tipped his head back, parted his lips and let out a single, sharp laugh, before resuming his silent vigil beside them.
Lara smiled. "Well, I suppose my husband would have thought the same about me, if he was still alive. Though he humoured me in many other pastimes without batting an eye. There was Yoga, Aromatherapy, and so many other things, so I suppose if anyone's a new age flake, it's me. I live on my own now. My house came with an orchard which I've never really had much pleasure from until recently. I've found it's a nice, private place to practice."
"Ah,… " Phil tried to picture it. It sounded marvellous. "You're very lucky, Lara."
"I suppose I am. But really, you can come and practice there any time. Any of you. It's separate from the house and walled in - you can just let yourself in through the back gate - come and go as you please."
"That's very kind, Lara, but really,… "
"No, no, you must come. There's an old Summer house. I can put some tea and things in there, and anyone can come to practice - oh please say you will. It'll be lovely!"
Phil had to admit it sounded idyllic, but he'd never get the time. He was already pushing his luck with an hour for acupuncture and another hour on Sunday mornings for Tai Chi. If he started taking himself off whenever he fancied a bit of practice, that would really sour Sally's mood. It was just a pity it wasn't something they could do together. But whatever Phil took an interest in, Sally would always take up the role of sneering critic, as if waiting for him to get bored with it and then accuse him of wasting his time, and their money. But it wasn't like she was a golf widow or a fishing widow. Other married blokes he knew seemed never to be at home, as if they couldn't bear it and had to bury themselves in an absorbing hobby or conveniently long business trips. Perhaps that was it! He spent too much time at home and in spite of Sally's occasional sulks at him for ignoring her, he was actually under her feet too much.
Lara had retrieved a post-it pad from her handbag, and was jotting down a set of numbers: 1965. "The year of my marriage," she explained. It was also the combination of the lock on the gate to the orchard and she handed it to Phil, then immediately wrote another and handed it to the Hairy Bear Man.
She was very trusting, thought Phil, perhaps too trusting and possibly a little potty. "Thank you very much," he said.
"But you will come? And pass the word to the others."
"I will."
Driving home, he had no intentions of keeping his promise - it was all getting too complicated and he was in enough trouble with Sally as it was. But on the other hand, he could feel his arms wanting to go into the Silk Reeling movements, as if they'd suddenly become possessed and craved the sensation. He didn't know what he was getting into, wasn't sure if he was doing any of the things Dr Lin had shown him correctly. She'd talked about an internal feeling, about imagining the movement of energy, of driving it about with a combination of the mind and the breath. Phil guessed that was key to the whole thing really, but it was impossible to get near it at home when Marty was doing monkey impressions in front of him.
You're taking yourself too seriously Dad, he was saying. And boys who took themselves too seriously, at school for example, got cut down to size by brain-dead bully boys. One must never take one's self too seriously, was the motto. One must also dress and act the way that is dictated by unspoken convention. No hat, and no ear-defenders, lest the bloody neighbours laugh at you. And God forbid they should ever catch you in the garden waving your arms about!
Phil understood Marty's concerns that his father was becoming ever more un-cool by the minute and that the absolute worst thing for a lad on the cusp of his teenage years was to have his peers consider his father a nutter. Marty was being protective of him. But Phil rejected it. He was not ready for his pipe and slippers yet, not ready for cosy stereotypical obscurity, while the young generation got on and trashed the world. He wasn't done living in it yet, hadn't even begun to live, he thought - then he wondered if Richie had any old waistcoats he'd grown tired of.
He'd spent the first ten years of his adulthood finding a wife, the second bringing up children. He wasn't about to spend the next two, or hopefully three decades fading politely away. Indeed, he'd had enough of being polite. It was about time he started speaking his mind. He caught himself
, and decided he must ask Dr. Lin exactly what these herbs were that she was giving him. His ear was still ringing most of the time, but apart from that he was beginning to feel indestructible!
And ten about years younger!
Chapter 9
Sally had withdrawn the easy intimacy of her body years ago. Phil couldn't remember exactly when it had happened. It had begun some time after Elspeth had been born, he supposed: a long and difficult labour ending in an emergency caesarean, a nasty scar and a body that had refused to snap back to its earlier svelte self. Phil had accepted the change in Sally's shape as one accepted the necessity of changing one's motor car. It didn't mean you liked the old one more or less than the new one - things just moved on. And there was nothing wrong with Sally's new roundness. Her thighs were softer, her breasts larger - the feel of her against him altogether more substantial,… and she was still Sally.
The problem was that Sally hated herself, hated what she saw as the loss of her youthful self, and her transformation into someone much fatter. Fat was the word: fat and cellulite, and wrinkles. These were the things that got circled in the glossy magazines and poked fun at. Look at so-and-so, former child beauty queen, now a fat, ancient slag with cellulite! And then there was the impossible balancing act the modern woman was expected to perform - the perfect mother, the confident, professional working woman, and the imaginative lover.
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