The Writer

by RB Banfield

  Sophie realised that they could have done exactly that. They could have read everything she wrote about him and reported it all back to him. Then she thought about the page she found in his room, and it was probably the two boys who put it there. She felt so embarrassed that she had nothing to say.

  Now he stood up and turned to her.

  “Interesting character you’ve made me into,” he said with a hint of distaste. “A wife stealer, am I? Is that what you think of me? I said I didn’t think much of marriage, and you go and do that to me? You’re trying to destroy my reputation? And you were doing this book without telling me? For that matter, I don’t remember asking your permission to use my name.”

  “I didn’t realise your name came with a copyright,” she replied tersely as she walked up the remaining stairs and went into her room, making a show of shutting and locking her door.

  “Nice to know you think I’m handsome,” he called.

  “Dramatic license!” she called back.

  Craigfield descended the stairs laughing to himself.

  Max slept on the couch for the first night of Jill’s return. There didn’t need to be any words between them to decide that. Since Jill had returned she had seldom come out of the bedroom, and when she did she hardly looked at him. The next morning Max found it hard to get off the couch, with his neck and upper back aching. He had slept okay, but his body protested being in the same hunched position for so long. His ankle had started hurting a lot recently anyway, and he again accidentally put too much pressure on it when he got to his feet off the couch.

  Then he almost walked into her. She had been standing near the couch unable to stop rubbing at her swollen eyes while she watched him sleep. Her face was like that of a little girl who had been rebuked, all sad and innocent, wanting someone to tell her everything will be all right.

  “He kicked me out,” she said as she started to sob. She hugged him and he felt her body convulsing as she cried.

  He didn’t hug her back.

  “He told me he never loved me,” she continued as she gripped him tight, making his back hurt. “He said it was all for fun and that’s all. I have nowhere to go, nowhere I want to go, but here, with you. Is it all right I stay? Do you want me to stay, Max? Do you? Tell me it is, Max, please.”

  She realised he was not hugging her and she stepped away more hurt than before.

  “I never said you couldn’t stay,” he said, not hiding the coldness in his voice.

  “Are you mad at me?”

  “Of course I’m mad. Madder at Craigfield.”

  “Please, don’t say his name. Not anymore. I never want to hear that stupid name again.”

  “That won’t be a problem.”

  “He’s not still in your story, is he? You did change it, didn’t you?”

  “He’s not in the story. Not really. Just a minor character, in the long run. One of those types of characters you don’t need to explain too much. His name is the best thing about him. Can’t let something like that get away.”

  “No, just get rid of the name, would you? I never want to hear it again. Do it for me, please. Take it out of your book. Can you?”

  “I don’t know,” he hedged. “I kind of like it.”

  “You won’t do that for me? Take his name out and use someone else’s? That’s easy, isn’t it? Make up another funny name; you’re good at that. You have to take it out. I can’t bear the thought of seeing it again.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Jill looked at him like she thought he was trying to hurt her more.

  “If it makes any difference,” he explained, not letting her affect his controlled and contemplative mood, “he’s no good guy. Just like in our own story. No, I won’t be changing his name. I think it’s a good reminder to what just happened between us. So it stays there.”

  “What about my feelings?”

  “What about them? You’re here because you can’t be there. We both know that’s the reason you came back, because he didn’t want you. That’s all right; I can’t blame you for any of it, I suppose. I’m not the best man to get along with; I know that. It also so happens, you’re no angel to live with either. But, the good news is, you won’t have to put up with me here for the next couple of days.”

  “Why, where are you going?”

  “I have a trip planned. And no, you’re not invited. And no, you’re not going even if you want to.”

  “You don’t have to be like this.”

  “I did a lot of thinking while you were gone, since I had the time and the motive to wonder about my life, and yours. I have made some dumb decisions, made some good ones; but mostly dumb ones. This is one of the good ones.”

  “You’ve changed,” she said quietly.

  “Was I going to do anything else? Did you come back expecting to find the old Max? Was I going to act like nothing’s happened? How could I possibly remain the same?”

  “Old or new, I don’t care. I just want you, Max.”

  She thought she saw him give a small nod, but she wasn’t sure.

  “Do you still want me?” she asked hesitantly.

  “Apparently more than Craigfield,” he said as he walked to the bathroom and closed the door.

  She was happy with his answer until she realised that it wasn’t one.

  Sophie looked at the stack of pages and worried about how small it was. What worried her more was the thought that she had added Craigfield into it. Seeming like a great idea at the time, an unusual guy with an odd name, the perfect addition to a story that had started well but then kind of stalled when the plot became convoluted and began to turn in on itself. Her only option was to go through each page and cross out his name and replace it with something like ‘Rob”, or “Steve”, or something else dull enough to not remind her of him. But that didn’t solve the problem of his personality still being there. The only solace she had was that she made him the bad guy, but that, regrettably, made him the character most important to the plot. She knew that she was just going to have to start again and remove any trace of him. It was a big risk, since she didn’t have much of a story without him.

  Rebecca knocked on her door and called out that she was needed downstairs. When Sophie opened the door her niece had already gone. Sensing something important, she rushed down to the main living room. Susan was there waiting, looking at her expectedly. Rebecca was standing in the far doorway looking guilty. Sophie walked further into the room not knowing what was going on, but then she realised what it was with an abrupt feeling of betrayal.

  “I’m leaving now,” Craigfield said from behind her with a voice that was trying to sound casual. He was standing with one foot on his fashionable suitcase, with wheels and an extended handle. He was leaning on it with an arm propped on his knee, and he had a slight smile. Sophie nearly laughed at the sight, since it reminded her of an advertisement for aftershave, or cigarettes, or ratfink men.

  “Enjoy your journey,” Sophie said coldly.

  Rebecca saw all she wanted and as she left she gave an audible sigh.

  “Your family thinks I should stay,” Craigfield said with a more natural voice. He took his foot of his bag and started to idly kick at it, stalling for time. He looked to Susan for support but there wasn’t any coming from her.

  “I can’t imagine why,” Sophie said as she went to leave.

  “Best you two work it out,” Susan said as she quickly made her way back to the kitchen, realising that the whole meeting was not such a great idea.

  “What are we working out?” Sophie asked her but she didn’t reply. “Why would you think there’s anything to work out?”

  “Come on, Sophie,” he said. “Don’t be like that. I remember our walk through town and what a good time we had. If there’s something I did wrong, just tell me. I know I haven’t been here, since I kept getting called back home. My boss says he can’t cope. I told him, I’m having a break, leave me alone, let me have my time off in peace. And if it’s because you
were worried about the twins, I already explained that I found them following me, and I made sure they got home safely. And I don’t need to mention why they were in the city. Or that you think you know me well enough to add me to your story.”

  “You’re right, I don’t know you. And I don’t want to.”

  “You’re not being fair. Your grandmother’s been saying all kinds of stuff about you, so I know you’re not normally like this. Don’t you want to know what she said?” He picked up his bag and hooked the strap over a shoulder, and then put one hand in a pocket, again like he was a model posing for a magazine shoot. And there was that slight smile.

  “Not at all. My grandmother can say what she likes, doesn’t change anything as far as I’m concerned.”

  “She’s been saying what a great couple we’d make. She also said how when you were a girl you hoped to be swept away by some tall handsome stranger. From the big city.” He started swinging the bag, and then it came off his shoulder and almost made him fall over, and he lost some of his coolness. Not acting like he cared, he dragged it beside him as he walked to the door.

  “That’s true. But I’m not a girl anymore.”

  “But then, perhaps one day we’ll see each other in the city. It’s not so big a place, I guess.” He got to the door and pushed it open with the bag.

  “Don’t believe it. I’ve lived there most of my life, and I never laid eyes on you until now. Far as I’m concerned, you’re as real as a figment of my imagination. When I go back home, it’ll just be like it always was: you won’t exist.”

  “How can you say that? We could bump into each other on the street, at a mall, buying coffee, anywhere. And you think we’ve never passed each other on the street? What if we did and we both thought, ‘Who’s that cool person,’ but we were not about to go asking anything personal since we’re both just walking down the street and minding our own business. I know if I was passing you by, I’d give you more than a passing glance. If I’m not wrong, you’d have done the same for me. But now we know each other, it’d be like, ‘There’s that cool person I met in Gendry.’ I should say hello and chat a while.”

  He then stood in the doorway smiling and waving the bag in and out, like he wasn’t sure if he should be going just yet.

  “Listen to me, man,” she said as she shoved his bag out and went to close the door. “You won’t see me again, okay? There are thousands of guys like you, and they’re probably as equally delusional as you.”

  She watched him walk away and was pleased that he didn’t look back. For just a second she remembered how nice he was on that walk through town.

  The only bad thing about the train ride was that the sun was in Max’s eyes most of the way. He thought about changing seats but each time he did the light changed, but then changed back into his eyes not long after. He just laughed to himself and decided to not worry about it and think about his destination, and be grateful that there was any sunshine at all. Once they left the city they also left the bleak weather that had been hanging around for a couple of weeks, and that put Max in a good mood.

  Not having his wife around him didn’t hurt either.

  Gendry was the fifth stop and Max counted them down with increasing anticipation. When he finally walked out into the Gendry station he recalled memories from his last visit. The air was noticeably sweeter than it was in the city and the sun didn’t feel as bright or hot. Gone was the bustle of his normal life: no hurry, no crowds, no traffic, no worries, no stress, no wife. It was just Gendry; do what you want when you want to and say hello to whomever you pass in the street, maybe stop to have a chat or maybe not. It didn’t really matter, since you could talk tomorrow or the next day, or the day after that.

  If he was a cat he would have been purring as he walked out to the main street. The first thing he noticed was the age of the people. They not only made him feel young, but he did not feel out of place in using a crutch to walk. He took note of the more important buildings, to give him a point of reference. There was the church, the library, the courthouse, the police station, and the best of them all, Sal’s, the only food house in town and the only one that anyone really needed. He was surprised to see that some of the old shops were empty, and one was boarded up. A couple of elderly people politely greeted him but didn’t stop to chat. They were moving so slow that he probably could have taken time to ask them a few questions, but he let them go. That same old Gendry was still here, he thought, even if some of it was trying its best to disappear.

  He was happy to see that the boarding house was still going. Susan Tyle was still the owner but it came as a small letdown that she didn’t recognise him. It was too much to hope that she would remember him and was excited to catch him up on family details. They were friendly in Gendry, but not that friendly. She had probably had other guests over the years. He knew that he could remind her that five years ago he stayed there for two days and he still remembered it even if she didn’t, but there was no point. Together with the fact that Max usually didn’t want to talk about his family, meant it was best she didn’t pry.

  “And a warm welcome to Gendry,” Susan said with a big smile. She tapped uncertainly at a small laptop that sat on the counter in the room that served as the foyer. He realised that she wasn’t too adept at using it, but he also knew that it would be rude to try to help her.

  “How long are you looking to stay with us, sir?”

  “A week at the most,” Max said. “Although, you never know, I might find some reason to stay on. I’m not on any kind of timetable here. Since it’s a small place I don’t think I’d take much more than a week to get through, but I’m always hopeful of finding something unexpected.”

  “What kind of work are you in?”

  “I’m a writer. You might have heard of me: Max Marshall.”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  Max took that on the chin. She must have had hundreds, if not thousands of guests since he was last there. “My next novel’s actually set here, in Gendry. I’ve already started it, but it helps to be here, get a feel for the place. I’m hoping to talk to as many people as I can, get the local flavour, so to speak.”

  “Flavour? You mean the trout? Depends how you cook it.”

  “No, I mean flavour as an expression. The atmosphere of the place is what I meant. I don’t fish, and I certainly don’t cook. You wouldn’t know the best place to visit? Is there a common meeting-ground, a popular bar or something, in town?”

  “Most people go to Sal’s when they’re not here with me.”

  He knew she would say that, but it didn’t hurt in asking. Max glanced down the hall and into the neighbouring dining room, seeing that they were alone. “Must all be at Sal’s,” he suggested, intending her to think he was funny.

  “I guess they must be,” she answered, mildly insulted. She had a slight edge to her voice when she said, “Well, you’re lucky, sir, I have my best room for you. My granddaughter was the last one to use it, so you know I’m not lying when I say it’s my best room. If it was good enough for Sophie, you know it must be good enough for anyone.”

  “If you don’t mind my asking, why did she leave the room? Is she in another one?”

  “No, she lives in the city. She’s just gone back there. I’m always sad when she leaves, but I know she doesn’t belong here in town, not anymore. She was born here and loves the place as much as she can, but it’s the city that has her heart now. I shock myself admitting that, but it’s best we deal with that reality, that she’s her own person and she can make her own decisions for her life.”

  There was a moment of awkward silence, as Max was not expecting such words from this woman he did not know, even if it was right in the heart of Gendry. Susan then showed him to his room, making no further conversation.

  Taking the train back to the city was never as enjoyable as going the other way. Now it made Sophie feel sad, and it was more than leaving her family and the quiet town. She was making the same journey without any of the
excitement. The hopes of being able to relax with family and create an interesting piece of fiction, was now just as much fiction as her intended story. Having had time to reflect on what went wrong, she knew it wasn’t really Craigfield’s fault and she was too harsh with him. It was more that her writing had not come together. There were other factors too, such as the murder, and the twins going missing. A folder of twenty-odd pages was all she had to show for herself, and it all needed reworking. She wasn’t sure if she should just go and dump it in the nearest train station trash bin. If anyone found it and sat down to read it they would probably have a good laugh over how bad it was, and wonder why the name Craigfield was crossed out with heavy strokes.

  The city was cold and rainy, and it made Sophie notice that the people seemed exactly the same; cold, beaten-down, dreary, unwelcoming. There were so many people but she couldn’t talk to any of them, or even make eye contact, or trust anyone. Not like Gendry. Everyone was a stranger, but in Gendry everyone was a friend. But then, there were signs that one day Gendry would be the same. Just a matter of time before both became the same place, the same story.

  Her five-year-old cat Ginger reacted like he barely knew she was gone. An easygoing furry Maine Coon with a fixation with playing in water, the guy could sleep anywhere, befriend anyone, and even not mind being woken up from a deep sleep for a pat. She greeted him as she always did and felt calmed by his strong purr. He looked overweight, which was normal, but it told her that he was being regularly fed by her neighbour, as was promised.

  “Thank you so much for looking after my cat,” Sophie said to Miss Hudson later that day when she had a chance. Her elderly neighbour had lived alone in the world since she was only a girl of twelve, and she enjoyed telling anyone she met that it was the best way to live. Sophie did not know her first name and it never felt polite to ask.