by Sara Alexi
Laurence’s hire car pulled away about half an hour ago but since walking to the pool’s edge, she has not moved.
If only he had shouted, got upset, it would at least imply he felt something. But no, once he realised she was serious, he became quiet, reflective. Then he shrugged his shoulders and went into the bedroom to finish packing.
‘Are you not even bothered?’ The anger wanted to overflow as she followed him, and it took a great deal of self-control to keep it in check. Reminding herself that Juliet would hear if they began shouting, she dug her nails into her palms.
He didn’t even make an effort to reply. She stomped from the bedroom to the sitting room, seething, but then returned, determined he would feel something before he left.
‘I know why you sold the green car.’ She introduced the topic with no intent to follow through to find justice. She just wanted to cause him pain, make him feel unsettled, or even afraid of subsequent possible consequences, anything other than his blasted calm.
At her words, he looked up. ‘What green car?’ He appeared unfazed but looked in a drawer he had already emptied.
‘The one you drove the wrong way on the closed TT race track.’ She waited.
Laurence hesitated in putting a pair of socks into his case. ‘No idea what you are talking about,’ he said as he smoothed the pair flat on top of the shirt he wore for the wedding. Sarah had bought him a set of three pairs of white socks from Marks and Spencer for the trip. Socks were one of her regular purchases; he was hard on them. But now she would never buy him socks again, never wait for the electric doors of that shop to open, never struggle to park on the quayside, never listen to Manx Radio as she drove to Douglas, never feed the ducks behind Rushen Abby in Ballasalla village with the leftover toast from breakfast before that drive. Those trips were done.
‘I have no idea what you are talking about.’ He continued his packing. ‘Nor do I think it matters. You have made your decision, so that is that.’ He snapped his suitcase shut.
It might not matter to him, but Sarah needed some display of emotion, if not for herself, then for Torin.
‘The green car you killed the boy on the motorbike with.’ Her fists tightened. She felt such power coursing through her muscles.
Laurence stopped lifting his case. He slowly looked up at her.
‘You may have seen me, too. The girl on the corner.’ Her voice quivered.
‘I think you are mistaken.’ He cleared his throat after speaking, lifted his suitcase off the bed, and headed for the door.
‘Just before you go, Laurence, I want you to know what it is like to lay face to face with a man who has a wooden fence post through his chest, whose arms and legs are broken and whose stomach has been gouged open with barbed wire. The light in that person’s eyes burns with the need to live, his every breath a determined struggle to hang on and even ...’
Laurence’s eyes narrowed in response. He made a move to the door. Sarah positioned herself between him and the outside.
‘Even as he took his last gasp of air, just in those last few seconds, he lived more than you have done in twenty-six years, and his last words proved it.’ She waited. Would he ask? Would he dare to hear the words Torin spoke?
‘Go on, then. You are dying to tell me.’ His voice was harsh but Laurence blinked rapidly. Sarah hoped he was envisioning the crushing reality of that last minute of Torin’s life before his actions killed him. He blinked again. He knew alright.
Sarah leaned towards Laurence, nose to nose. ‘He told me that he loved me.’
His face muscles relaxed and grew slack, the corners of his mouth pulled downward, all his hardness dropped away. His eyes softened and he whispered, his lips only inches from her own, ‘And who denied me love?’ With which he walked out into the sunshine.
Slinging his suitcase in the boot, he got in the driver’s seat and without even a last glance, turned his head away and reversed down the lane.
Sarah stood for a long while, watching the dust from the car swirl in decreasing circles just above ground until it settled and dispersed. Then she pivoted on the spot and, unable to face the empty interior, she walked to the poolside and stood motionless, blindly staring at nothing until the bat took her attention.
He was gone. She was alone. Torin was still just a piece of her history and twenty-six years of marriage were finished in what felt like a petty point-scoring spat.
Swallowing hurt her throat, it was so dry.
Even faced with someone witnessing that he had killed a man, Laurence showed no emotion. He maintained his impenetrable wall and showed no feelings. If he could hide all that, how much more of himself had he kept hidden all those years? What other secrets did he have? Had she ever really known him at all?
Another bat flies close by her, the wind from its wings lifting one or two of her hairs over her face. The need for sleep suddenly engulfs her, extinguishing all thoughts but providing the motivation needed to propel her to the cottage and into bed.
The heat wakes her and the emptiness of the double bed brings her to full consciousness. She is tempted to turn over and seek the release of more sleep, but as her limbs stretch to wakefulness, an excitement begins to build. Out there, beyond the door of the cottage, her new life is waiting for her. The emptiness of the bed becomes a joy and she rolls, reaching into every corner, the space all hers.
Standing, the excitement rushes energy through her limbs. She dresses quickly and starts to sling all her clothes into her suitcase. On the top of the dresser is the box containing the string of pearls Laurence gave to her all those years ago, and next to that, her jewellery box full of gold and diamond trinkets he has bought her over the years. It would have been a nice finale to have given him the pearls back before he left yesterday, complete the task she should have done all those years ago.
Picking up the box, she hinges it open.
‘I don’t believe it.’ She puts the empty box down and picks up her jewellery box. ‘Bastard!’ How could anyone in the emotional heat of splitting up from two decades of marriage have the presence of mind to empty the necklace box and her jewellery case? Not only empty it but ensure that he was not seen doing it. When? In the split second she had left the room after accusing him that he wasn’t even bothered. It must have been; there was no other time.
‘Unbelievable.’ She sits on the bed, the jewellery box on her knee. It takes a few minutes to recover herself. Shaking her head, she drops the empty box in the bin, searches through the drawers for anything she might have left before going to the bathroom. Laurence has taken all the bottles of shampoo and everything he lined up at the end of the bath, but it is with mixed emotions that Sarah finds his Jacob and Co cuff links in the soap dish. She snorts her brief, hollow mirth—they are worth more than her entire collection of jewels and pearls put together.
That’s it. The cottage is empty. Half a bottle of red wine sits by the sink and in the fridge there is some goat cheese and an open box of crackers. Clearing everything out, she wipes the fridge clean. She does not want to make work for Juliet.
It all feels a bit unreal. She wanders to the pool and back inside, then from the sitting room to the bedroom. The bathroom is a recheck where she takes the time to look out of the square window at the tree and the pool. Eventually, she settles on the hammock and tries to read her book, but she is fidgety. Back in the bedroom, she unpacks and repacks everything, this time folding her clothes carefully and putting clean things at the bottom and those that need a rinse through at the top. When she is settled at Jim’s, she will spend her first wage on new clothes and burn this collection of Laurence’s choices. When she has finished, the open case seems very empty and she wonders what is missing. It is only by chance that she spots her and Laurence’s dressing gowns on the back of the bedroom door. She feels a little smug that she is not as forgetful as him. She leaves his hanging.
Outside again, the book is no more entertaining. She walks to the pool but does not fancy a swim although it
is lovely just to stand there and watch the light sparkle on the surface. Maybe she could ring Jim. Back in the house, she searches through her handbag for her phone. Checking her received calls, she tries to recognise his number. Jim’s household, however, will be upside down today in the aftermath of the wedding. Some of the guests will still be there, and the last thing she wants to do is push him when he will have so much to think about. Tomorrow morning is soon enough. Let things settle a bit, move from here to the hotel in Saros and get to know her surroundings. She should buy a Greek phrase book, start to learn the language.
With an enormous sigh, she goes back in the kitchen and, taking the goat cheese and the crackers, she returns outside. The cat appears and meows incessantly until Sarah gives him some cheese. A lizard stands motionless on the smooth dust where yesterday, Laurence’s car stood, and a moth, or a fat butterfly, so big Sarah mistakes it for a hummingbird, hovers by the bougainvillaea, its proboscis dipping deep into the flowers.
‘This is it, Sarah girl. This is the pace of your life from now on.’ The words produce a shiver down her spine. Does she take out her laptop and start reading up on beekeeping or ...
Her thoughts are interrupted by her phone.
‘Oh hi, Jim. I didn’t expect to hear from you today.’
Chapter 32
Walking through the bee-buzzing gully is different today; no longer something precious to hang onto, it is now going to be part of her daily life. Nevertheless, Sarah loiters before leaving the enclosed path, and when she does enter the rough grazing ground, she takes the time to look over the hives again.
‘I am a beekeeper,’ she says to herself. She is not sure she has ever had a title before, except as Laurence’s wife. ‘Beekeeper.’ She says it again as if introducing herself to someone.
The rough ground is empty of sheep and goats and so she heads straight for the side gate. ‘And housekeeper.’ She fills out her improvised introduction to an imaginary person.
Unlatching the gate, she cautiously opens it; the dogs might be free. They are out of their cages but on long chains. If she sticks to the wall, they cannot reach her. The ground is littered with gun cartridges and Sarah briefly recalls her moment of craziness, and then the moments of embrace with Nicolaos. They will be living next door to each other.
‘Ah, that was quick. You didn’t have to come straight away.’ Jim is fishing something from the pool with a net. ‘I have just ordered some coffee. We were going to have it up on the balcony; will you join us?’
Sarah presumes, when he says we, he means himself and Frona and she looks about for the old woman, but they are alone.
Jim puts down his net and leads Sarah up to the balcony. When they are nearly at the top of the stairs, Jim says, ‘Did you met Rudolph and Maria? Maria is my second cousin and her husband Rudolph.’
They have come out onto the balcony and rising from the sofa and offering his hand to shake is the man in the shiny suit, his cigar clamped between his teeth.
‘How do you do,’ Sarah responds formally. The wife remains sitting. She looks very fragile, and she nods and says ‘hello’ in a small voice. Sarah smiles.
‘Please.’ Jim offers Sarah a seat. ‘Ah here is the coffee.’ The maid arrives and puts a tray down.
‘So, as so often in life, things have changed a little, Sarah, but I think it could be for the better, give everyone a little time to gather themselves.’ He sits next to Maria and he puts his arm around her. ‘Maria here has been a little under the weather as of late.’ Maria puts her hand over her mouth and gives a weak cough in response. Jim looks at her with concern. ‘The area of Germany they live in has high pollution so, last night, I talked Rudolph into taking a little time off work to come out here for Maria’s sake.’ Sarah looks at Rudolf, who leans back and takes a big lungful of cigar smoke and smiles like a caring husband as he exhales.
‘Oh,’ is all Sarah can raise herself to say. Does Jim want her to act as maid for these people or is it something more complex? What does he mean by ‘giving people time to gather themselves?’
‘Obviously, things cannot run themselves in Germany,’ Rudolph says with an American twang that does not disguise the German accent, ‘but I think I can give my Precious six months of clean air.’ He looks over to Maria. Jim takes his arm from around his cousin to pick up his coffee cup.
‘Coffee?’ He indicates for Sarah to help herself. Rudolph takes a cup and gives it to Maria before taking one for himself.
‘So I thought it best to introduce you to each other, as it is probably best if your time crosses by a week or so. Rudolph can bring you up to speed on everything and it gives you,’ he says, looking at Sarah, ‘what, say a full six months, Rudolph?’ Rudolph nods whilst sipping his coffee, his large hands awkward around the small cup’s handle. ‘How does that sound, Sarah?’
‘You don’t need me for six months?’ Sarah’s coffee cup rattles in its saucer, so she hastily puts it back down.
‘That’ll give you time to pop home, tie up loose ends, and gather yourself. Sounds perfect, doesn’t it?’ Jim takes a sip of his coffee and Rudolph nods. Maria’s eyes are on Sarah. Sarah’s throat has become tight and she can hear the throb of her blood being pumped. She cannot stay in a hotel in Saros waiting for six months. Her limbs seems to have gone to sleep; her back is rigidly fixed. Trying to focus on her situation is causing her mind to go blank.
‘Sarah, don’t you think?’ Jim repeats something Sarah has not heard.
‘Sorry?’
‘Six months is a perfect length of time to sort everything back at home. I know if it was me, I would need longer but then, I have never really come to terms with running a house. Give me a shipping company and I am at home. Give me a home and I am all at sea.’
Rudolph seems to think this is very funny and puts down his coffee in fear of spilling it with his belly laughs.
‘Did Frona show you the housekeeper’s rooms?’ Jim asks.
‘Er no.’ Sarah cannot remember if she did or she didn’t. Right now, her thought processing seems to have hibernated, and she wonders if Frona has agreed to this change of plan. ‘What does Frona say about the six months?’ Sarah asks, beginning to dislike Jim. Okay, so they didn’t have a contracted agreement, but they had agreed to talk it all over and it seems now he has decided to cast her aside for his cousin. Obviously his cousin is more important to him than she is but, even so, the way he has gone about it all is rather tactless.
‘Frona says it would be good. She is going to close up the house in Jersey. She might even sell it, she tells me. Well, she said two or three months, but I think she can see how six months would mean she doesn’t have to rush.’ Jim finishes his coffee. Sarah hasn’t even started hers. She stands. She will not be a pawn any longer.
‘Well, very nice to meet you Rudolph and I hope you feel better soon, Maria.’
‘Are you going?’ Jim stands.
‘I think it’s best.’
‘Please let me walk you to the door. We can go by the housekeeper’s rooms, chat about the terms and conditions.’ He gives a weak laugh. Sarah does not stop him.
The rooms, as it turns out, are plain, large, and light filled, and Sarah could not wish for anywhere nicer to stay. The pay he is offering is also higher than she anticipated, but she has no idea what she will do from now till then. She cannot return to Laurence.
‘I am not sure what I will be doing in six months. Can we be in touch nearer the time?’ Sarah hears her voice and is impressed with how calm she sounds.
‘Oh.’ It is Jim’s turn to sound thrown. Good. ‘Well, yes, if it would suit you better, but I really was hoping ...’ He trails off.
Sarah does not give him any reassurances and she leaves not having seen Frona, either.
Deliberating on whether to march quickly down the drive or take things more slowly through the side gate, she realises she has nowhere to go and nothing to do. There is no point in marching anywhere even though she has recognised her feeling of anxiety an
d a good march would unwind her.
The side gate creaks open and Sarah walks looking at the ground. Why had she counted on this job when nothing had been decided? How stupid. Irresponsible, Laurence would say. Maybe she isn’t fit to live her life on her own after all. Maybe she is not able to!
‘No, that’s just stupid,’ she tells herself.
‘Who’s stupid?’
‘Oh, Nicolaos, I didn’t see you in the shade.’
‘Why so sad?’ He seems quite animated and steps out from under the tree into the sunshine.
‘I think I have made a bad choice again.’ Sarah cannot find a smile.
‘What do you mean again? You are not condemned to repeat the same negative thought patterns, you know.’
‘Right now, all I need is a "there, there" and a little sympathy. I don’t need to know that I am thinking wrong as well as doing wrong.’ Sarah is sharp, but she looks at him to make sure she hasn’t offended him. He still seems very buoyant.
‘There there ...’ He steps towards her, puts a hand on her shoulder, and looks deep into her eyes. She pulls away. ‘Look, life will make you unhappy. But if you expect a cure to come from a pill or from someone else providing the answer, you will be even unhappier when it doesn’t happen,’ he says.
‘Can you stop being philosophical just for today?’
‘Sure.’ He shrugs and his hand falls from her shoulder. ‘But I need to ask you something.’ His hand takes her hand as he speaks. It is an intimate act and Sarah looks down to their intertwined fingers. ‘You are staying, right?’ Sarah has no idea what to answer. What on earth does her future hold? But he does not wait for a reply. ‘Do you think that over time, living so closely that you and I ...’ He pulls her gently into his arms, his head bowing. Their noses touch, his mouth so close to hers she can feel his breath on her lips. Her body responds and yearns for him, her hips moving forward, their bodies moulding together.
She pulls away sharply. If there is one thing she is not going to do, she is not going to let a relationship determine the course of her life again. First she must decide what she wants to do and then she can get involved. If she gets involved.
