by Martha Long
I was just reaching across the table to get the sugar bowl when I saw a white envelope with my name on it leaning against the fruit bowl. I stared at it, my mind trying to take it in. I slowly reached across, checking it was really for me. Yes, there’s my name with a line flowing underneath. I opened it, taking out one sheet of paper. A note was written in his beautiful script. It was folded in half. I opened it, reading, then read again. I couldn’t take it in.
Martha, I will be away, I do not say when I shall return. In the meantime, do please feel free to make yourself comfortable. I have asked Madame Bouclé to take care of you. She will remain on in the house during my absence, as she would normally do. If you need something, please, do just ask. I have left you a French phrasebook, which might be of help. It is on the kitchen table next to this envelope. Martha, I would suggest, you must do what you think best for you.
My deepest regards, Ralph.
I felt an almighty panic hitting me but it stayed down. My heart was sinking all the way to the floor; it was leaving me. A terrible feeling of dread hit. I could hear the roars in my head of the panic. HE’S GONE. HE’S LEFT YOU, MARTHA! He was too polite to tell you to leave, so he just upped and left himself. He probably told Madame Bouclé to phone him when I have left. He doesn’t want to face me. He’s not up to that. He couldn’t deal with the pain he would see no matter how much I would try to hide it, and hide it I would. I can never admit humiliation to go with my rejection. Chin up! Smile! Be polite, that would have been my way. But he would have known, he would have seen it in my face, showing through my eyes. He spotted it that first time he ever met me, as he said himself. Yes, he was the first one to ever notice my pain and that added to me falling body and soul in love with him. Now it is over. OK, time to . . . Is it?
I read the letter again. No, it doesn’t say get out of my house, my life. Just ‘Do what is best for you’! Oh, Ralph! Where are you? No, I can’t just walk away! Can I?
I can’t breathe. I need air. I got up and made my way out the door, hearing Madame calling me.
‘Oui, Madame?’ I said.
She said something about my untouched breakfast, pointing at it as she lifted her arms with the eyebrows standing up.
‘Non, merci!’ I said, trying to lift my face in a smile. Then tried harder, ‘Merci, Madame! I have a headache,’ I said, putting my hand on my head.
I saw the look she gave me as her eyes took in the letter hanging out of my hand. I stalled for a minute, taking in that look, wondering if I had insulted her. I didn’t want to be rude and upset her. She has been terribly good to me. I caught the way her eyes looked at me after she lifted them from the letter. They moved, then changed, showing a look of sympathy. Then her mouth fell and she waved, turning away slowly. She knows! She knows he has dumped me. Fuck, that makes it worse!
I took off heading for the stairs and into my room, shutting the door behind me. I have to go. I better get packed. Jesus, what times are the trains? How will I get my plane ticket? I missed my return flight weeks ago but I thought Ralph would be able to organise it. Tell me what to do, go to a travel agent’s or something. Fuck! What a mess. I could feel myself shaking all over and my heart was flying. I spotted my tobacco sitting on the low table. I must have forgotten it in my worry to get downstairs. Jesus, little did I only know.
I sat down and rolled a cigarette, thinking, take it easy. Think first. You are just feeling humiliated. You are no longer wanted in this house, you don’t belong. But fuck it, that doesn’t mean I have to rush out headlong into the middle of nowhere! Jaysus! It was bad enough getting here. But at least I had my train and plane tickets. Now I have nothing. I have no times of trains or even the bleedin planes. I could get stranded anywhere. It’s the middle of the bleedin winter here. The weather can be worse than Dublin! Right, so take it easy. Don’t panic! Sit, do nothing.
I lifted my head from the window. I had been staring for hours out at the lawns but seeing nothing. I now feel numb. The loss of Ralph had shut me down completely. I couldn’t take the pain. I felt like nothing mattered. I would be better if I got moving out of here. Then I could put distance between him and me and this place, with all the memories here to crowd in on me and drive me mad. There are too many happy memories! They are twisting my guts.
I started wringing my hands, trying to make a decision. I could feel my breathing coming heavy. It was the need to run, take off! Make a decision – but, no, something would not let me.
I knew it was too late to start going now. No, it takes hours to get across France from here. Nearly a whole fucking day! I will have to find some way of organising it. Right, the phrasebook. Madame can help me. I will ask her, but not now. When I am ready, tomorrow. Right, so that means I am staying for today at least. Anyway, the afternoon is nearly gone, I thought, seeing the day was now turning grey, with the bloody country mist starting to rise. It’s very damp out there, that wouldn’t do the aul lungs any good! No, that’s definitely settled then, I thought, making out the door.
I stopped on the landing, looking at the door into Ralph’s room. I wanted to put my hand on the knob and open it, just to get a sense of him. Look and see his things, remind me of his presence. But I hesitated, listening and looking down the stairs. Madame would think I am snooping. It wouldn’t be right. She knows my status in this house. He has gone off, leaving me here. He left a letter for me and I reacted badly. Oh, yeah! You gave that one away nicely, Martha! Well done, you need now to look before you jump. But fuck it! I needed an answer and I got it! So fuck him, the bastard. He spends his life running. The cowardly bastard wouldn’t tell me to my face.
On the other hand, I forgot, no. It isn’t actually cowardice with him. It is sheer fucking arrogance! I have seen over my time how they can cut you dead when they have no further use for you. That is what he is doing. Simply dismissing me, because his decision is made. The thundering fucking bastard. If I could only get my hands on him this minute, I would give him an earful! Huh! He thinks he heard enough last night, does he now? Fuck, that was nothing. He has not experienced me when I really let rip! I could feel the rage beginning to roar up in me. I wanted to do him damage.
My head peeled to his door again, with the chest flying up and down. Where does he keep his fucking cigars? I could mash them and stick them in his bed – that would discommode his lordship. No Madame Bouclé around to change his bleedin sheets when he decides to take himself to bed! No, he would have to do it himself, the slithering, slimy, good-for-nothing, chinless, waste-of-space bastard! I will kill him! Wonder does that Madame one know where he’s gone? Yes, fuck that! I could turn up and make an absolute show of him. Give him something to remember me by when I’m gone home. Yes, off to have me new life, thanking my lucky stars I wasn’t landed with a . . . ‘Oh, the bleedin bastard,’ I moaned, running out of air. ‘Fucking men! Useless bastards,’ I muttered, nearly crying with the rage, then making my way back up the stairs.
I don’t know what to do with myself, I thought, heading back into the room. Go for a walk? No! Too damp. Talk to Madame? You can’t speak French. Listen to the radio? No, too many happy memories. See if she has something to eat? No, not hungry. Pack? Fuck that! Have a smoke? Yeah! Great idea.
I walked up the drive huddled into my fur coat, listening to the crunch of my soft leather boots walking over the mulch thrown up by the storm several nights ago. Jesus, that seems an age ago, I thought, thinking about that night. I stamped up to the front door and stood looking at it. No, don’t bother knocking. It might torment her. I get enough of that in the morning when I come in for me breakfast. She gives me a polite, ‘Bonjour, Madame,’ then the guarded look as the eyes peel away, much as to say, Are you still here? But then she gets back to her work as if it’s none of her business.
The French are great at that. Lots of shrugs, then it’s Merde! The world is crazy! But we do have our routine, Madame and me. I have settled in nicely since Ralph flew the coop. So now, I might as well be getting meself a bit of F
rench country air while I’m at it. I need to recover my equilibrium before I start my journey home. I don’t want to have another crash before I even get started on my new life. No, good food, plenty of rest and the good fresh air will do me all the good in the world. I need all the good that’s going. I’m sure Ralph would agree with that. After all, he is sworn to make well and do no harm. Or is it, if you can’t do good, then do no harm? Yeah, Hippocratic oath! Jaysus! That man is full of oaths and vows!
Right, I blinked, bringing back my vision, and looked ahead, seeing my way around the side of the house, and let myself in the side door. I slammed the heavy door shut and walked along the old tiled passage. I looked at the doors along the corridor and decided to take a look. I stuck my head in one of them and found myself looking at a big old study. Or more like a library, as a huge old bookcase stood in the middle of the wall behind the door. I went in, shutting the door behind me. It was filled with books. Some of them looked old and dusty. Probably over a hundred years old. Must belong to the relatives who are pushing up daisies by now. I looked around, seeing the two lovely old high-back, leather-winged library chairs sitting one each side of the big fireplace. They both had a table standing next to the wall, with lamps sitting on top, and a box of cigars sat on one of the tables. I opened it, seeing Ralph’s cigars! Ah-ha! So this is where he keeps them! I lifted one up, smelling it – very nice. Then sat down in the chair, sucking on the cigar without lighting it up, and lifted up a book. Tolstoy’s War and Peace! Jaysus! I read that years ago, definitely not my cup of tea at the minute. My poor brain is laboured enough. It needs rest.
This place needs air. It’s a bit stuffy. Ralph must come here for his smoke and do his reading, relaxing, and write letters, I saw, looking at the big old roll-top desk with the round leather chair sitting in front of it. Bet that’s where he keeps all his papers and private stuff!
Right, get the hell outa here before Madame thinks you are up to no good. It would be embarrassing, seeing as I am an unwanted guest. Ah, fuck the begrudgers! I’ve been rapidly developing a brass neck over the last few days since he left. Yeah, once the shock wore off, I settled in nicely.
OK, time to get moving upstairs and out of these boots and fur coat, then down for dinner. Wonder what she’s dishing up tonight? Jaysus, pity I can’t bring her home with me, she is a marvellous cook, not to mention the polishing and cleaning she does. Oh, how the mighty have fallen. A week ago I thought I was going to inherit her when I got me hands on Ralph, now look at the state of me! A bleedin nomad, wandering around in a foreign land, looking for love! The only difference between me and the nomads is that they move on, looking for leafy bushes for their goats, or whatever it is they breed.
Right, up and out, get moving. I shut the door behind me and made my way back up the by now familiar stairs. Pity, I felt so much at home here. I will miss the aul place, I sighed, making for my room.
I gave myself an extra polish in the bathroom, soaking for at least an hour. No more slobbing; no, today I am going to do something special, I thought, hurrying meself back to my room and dropping my wash things, digging into my make-up bag. No, today is ‘make-the-effort’ day. Right, just a little make-up; it is morning anyway. Or nearly, well, maybe a bit into the afternoon. I decided this morning I would have a lazy morning. Well, most days have been lazy, but I did get a bit windblown when I showed my nose out in the grounds for an airing. Jaysus, the weather here can be very treacherous. Biting cold winds! Anyway, the Madame is fed up looking at me appearing down in my pyjamas for breakfast. The same pair for the last few days. Maybe she wasn’t fanning the cooking smells with that dishcloth after all! Anyway, I gave her a big smile this morning. It made a change from the usual grunts we give each other. She smiled back. Things are looking up!
Right, what’s special on the agenda today? Oh, yeah, I am going to take myself off down to the village and sit in one of the bistros. I passed them a few times. People seem to meet and chat over their coffee and cakes, very sociable. So I better get down there and start to mingle with the locals, meet a few real French, get myself into the holiday mood. So long as Madame does not put the boot under me . . . She can’t, she takes her orders from himself, and he doesn’t look in any hurry to get back. So, in the meantime, I’m making the best of a bad situation. I’ll just have to enjoy meself. Oh, yeah, that’s a good idea I thought up for myself when he gets back and sees I haven’t shifted myself. No, not the squatters’ rights one, because it’s not just about him any more. I like this house and the way of life. I’m very fond of Madame Bouclé and I think she might grudgingly like me too. But himself is a fucker. He would just grab me by the neck and fuck me out with the cat.
I shall simply tell him, Sorry, old bean, but no mon, no fun. I didn’t have the loot to buy myself a plane ticket! So got marooned here, old sock! What, eh! Damn unsporting of you not to cough up and leave the old first-class tickets! Eh! What? Shocking bad form, I say! Oh! One more thing, old sport. I think it is awfully bad manners to send me packing with a load of old baggage! Have you seen my suitcase, old bean? Bloody disgusting! How can you possibly expect me to travel first class wearing diamond earrings carrying a Dunnes Stores suitcase? I mean, it is worse than the Woollies’ best! Woolworths! For gaud’s sake! No, has to be Louis Vuitton. Good old Louis goes well with diamonds, old sock!
Come to think about it, he did give me diamonds! I did get diamond earrings! Yeah, I thought, feeling my heart sink again, remembering how much I love him. We were so happy. Fuck you, Ralph! I miss you terribly!
Right, but forget it, Martha, the bastard didn’t think twice about dumping you! Oh, yes, the fucker has been ruthless with me, so two can play that game! Gone over a whole bleedin week! Right, my claws have had time to grow! I will be bleedin dug outa him if he comes the high and mighty with me! I will even insist on a taxi to the train station and one to the airport! Oh, yes, pride has nothing to do with this. Oh, no, this is a case of ‘Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned’ – sniff. He won’t forget me in a hurry!
Right, a little lipstick, not too much, this is France after all. They invented beauty! Well, the ‘chic’ look. That’s the one I’m going for. Now for the daywear. What does one wear to a French village bistro? Never know who I might meet! Ahh, the very thing. A lovely polo-neck black-wool frock, just about covers me arse. It looks more like a jumper. I’ll wear that with a leather belt. Oh, black winter tights and boots. Hair down or up? Hmm, up looks better with fur, that’s all I have! Perfect, that’s all I need. Now for a squirt of perfume. Oh, and my real pearl earrings. I looked at myself in the mirror. Good God, woman! You look smashing! I would marry you myself, if I wasn’t meself!
OK, time to perambulate down yonder village. I opened the door, making my way down the stairs in a whiff of perfume and fur. I decided to pull up the collar and hold it, it definitely gives me the ‘chic’ look. Now I’m ready for anything.
I made my way along the hall, listening to my boots make a muffled thud on the rugs then thump along the floorboards, sounding purposeful, a woman who was going somewhere. My hand was on the doorknob getting ready to turn it when I heard the whish of tyres and a car stop just as I was opening the door. Before I had time to think, the door was opened and I was stepping out. I saw a blur of dark-green Jaguar, a car door fly open and a man in a long black coat with a leg encased in black pristine trousers with a very sharp crease down the centre emerge. The leg disappeared into a handmade, narrow-fitted, black shiny shoe tied with a lace. The sock was black cashmere, of course.
I recognised the owner. I stood gaping, trying to correct my vision as Ralph whirled and stood erect to attention, taking in the sudden sight of me. I stared, seeing first the whole of him – the long black cashmere coat buttoned to the collar hidden by a flap to cover the buttons. He was wearing a dark-wine cashmere scarf loose at the neck, with the two ends snuggled side by side, hanging down the front, French style.
The sight of him took my breath away. I looked, seeing
his well-polished face fixed rigidly into the settled look of arrogance that comes with his aristocratic bearing. His face bore a quiet certainty that all he surveys is his to command.
He looked startled, letting his green eyes shatter at the sudden sight of me. I stared in shock, seeing his eyes change to become fixed, rigid like his face, showing only a stone mask. Then he lifted his chin before lowering himself, tilting his body towards me, acknowledging my presence. I watched as he moved to the back of the car and leaned in, elegantly stretching with one leg just off the ground, and whipped out two leather bags. Then he turned and stopped smartly, saying, ‘How nice to see you, you do look well.’
I heard the words coming to me like I was watching the scene from a distance. It looked and sounded like he was greeting a stranger he only vaguely knew. I couldn’t move; my heart hammered with the sudden fright of him. I stood rooted, seeing how handsome he looks. Then an icy cold fear hit me at how remote and distant he is. All the power went from me. I could feel my legs buckling from the sudden fright of so much happening at once. So I just stayed perfectly still, keeping my face rigid, saying, ‘Thank you, it is nice to see you, too.’
Then he marched towards the house, with me standing for a minute in the middle of the big door, and I suddenly stepped aside as he tilted his head saying, ‘Thank you, I must get these upstairs,’ giving a slight tug to the brown-leather travel bag and what looked like a big leather briefcase.
He disappeared in through the door and I stood stock-still, not knowing what to do next. My head turned for the door, then my heart dived with fear. No! I can’t go in there. Then I turned, looking down the drive. My instinct took me that way. I headed off, walking quickly, wanting to make distance, be out of sight and get the hell away.
