by David Evered
* * *
‘The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God and the fellowship of the Holy Ghost be with us all evermore, Amen.’ The rapid monotone concluded the service and the congregation rose with rather more agility and animation than they had shown at any time during the previous fifty minutes. The vicar and the choir filed out, and the worshippers genuflected as a brief intonation could be heard from behind the almost closed vestry door. Peter looked around as handbags, hymn books and shoes were covertly sought and recovered while the Reverend James Andrewes walked rapidly round the exterior of the church to the west porch in time to greet the first of his parishioners as they were leaving. Peter’s mother had suggested that he should join them for lunch on Easter Day and insisted that he should attend church with her that morning. Geoffrey by tacit agreement rarely went other than on Christmas Day. They moved from their pew into the nave, progressing slowly towards the porch, exchanging occasional commonplace comments with acquaintances as they did so. Finally they emerged and, having shaken the vicar’s hand, walked briskly down the slope back to the family home. Molly grumbled about the weather and the way the frosts which had occurred on one or two nights had disturbed her routine for the garden, although the pelargoniums and begonias which she had bought for the troughs and pots were all secure in the greenhouse, together with some bedding plants which she had grown from seed and laboriously pricked out.
This was the first time that Peter had been home since Ann’s departure and Molly was obviously delaying the moment when she might interrogate him about the breakdown of his marriage until Geoffrey was present. It was inevitably going to be the first topic of conversation as he settled down with his parents for a pre-lunch drink.
‘What went wrong?’ enquired Geoffrey as soon as they were seated. ‘You always seemed to be perfectly comfortable together and we were not aware of any problems when we saw you here with Ann’s mother and sister at Christmas.’
‘Yes, I think in general we were and I wasn’t aware of any problems at Christmas. It’s difficult to put into words. There was no great schism but I suppose no great passion either. We just seemed to live somewhat separate lives. I’m sure there must be many couples who live in such a way and remain married. I couldn’t claim that we were ill-suited but possibly we were not as well suited as we might have been. It’s perhaps unsurprising that Ann fell for someone else, particularly someone whom she saw daily at work. That was the immediate cause of the break-up but it would be unfair to place all the burden of responsibility on Ann.’
‘What do you mean – have you also strayed?’
‘No,’ said Peter emphatically, answering the query which lay behind the euphemistic verb which his father had used. ‘We have parted amicably. It came quite out of the blue but now that I’ve come to terms with the parting I’ve started to think positively of what the future might hold for me.’
‘Surely your future’s clear,’ his mother intervened. ‘This doesn’t have any implications for your job and perhaps you’ll find a new and loyal wife in time.’ Peter noted the emphasis which had been placed on the second of the adjectives. ‘But you shouldn’t rush into any new liaison.’
Peter smiled at the assumption that this was likely to be the limits of his aspirations for the future and that this was still an era in which a wife, who would be expected to stand by her man, was an essential accessory for any professional. ‘I think that’s unlikely,’ he said ‘but I am going to make some changes in my life and I will tell you about them over lunch. They may surprise you.’
They sat down to eat at the kitchen table as there were only three of them. ‘Well, tell us all,’ said Molly.
‘I have been talking to my partners and have raised with them the possibility that I might take a sabbatical. They have agreed that I might take a year.’
‘Were they happy with this?’
‘I removed myself from the meeting room while they discussed it. I understand that two of the older ones were somewhat hesitant and felt that this was creating a precedent. One of my younger colleagues confided later that they had taken the view that they themselves had never felt the need to take time out. He thought they were probably a little envious that they had never had the opportunity, or thought to raise the possibility. He added that my proposal had also put it in his mind and that of the other younger partners that they might think of following suit at a later date. That has been put on the agenda for discussion at a future partners meeting.’
‘But what are you going to live on?’
‘I shall be on unpaid leave of absence for a year and have worked out that I can live simply, but reasonably comfortably, for that year on savings. I shall also have a modest income from my share of the partnership profits for the year even though I shan’t receive any fee income. Ann has insisted that she doesn’t want to make any financial demands on me.’
‘And what will you do during this year?’
‘I’m going to write.’
‘What about? Will this be a book on some aspect of family law – and can you attach yourself to the law faculty in one of the universities to do this?’
‘No, I have for many years had a hankering to write fiction and this seemed to be a once in a lifetime opportunity to attempt to do so. Circumstances are such that I can. I may fail, in which case I shall return with my tail between my legs and take up my profession once more.’
‘You’ve never mentioned this before.’
‘No, but it has been there at the back of my mind for a number of years. If I don’t take this chance, I know I’ll regret it. It seems that fate has delivered this opportunity.’
‘How do you know you will be any good at it?’
‘I don’t. I just know that this is something that I want to do and I shall regret it if I don’t give it a try.’
‘How will you go about it?’
‘I think in the first instance I shall shut up the flat and go away over the summer. I shall be leaving the office at the end of June once I’ve found a locum. First, I shall have a short holiday and then I’ll try to find a place somewhere in the countryside to rent, well away from all distractions. I shall become a hermit and sit there with a pen and several reams of blank paper. I think, if I stay in the flat, routine daily activities may weaken my resolve. I imagine that the most difficult part will be to get started.’
‘But what will it be about?’
‘The honest answer is I don’t know yet. I have several ideas but I need to start seeing them in black and white to get any feel for their credibility.’
‘I believe there are creative writing courses that you can attend. Have you considered signing up for one of those?’
‘Yes, but I just want to get on and give it a go.’
‘Are you really certain that this will not harm your career?’
‘No, I’m not, but I’m determined to go ahead with it. I’ve negotiated my leave of absence. The die is cast.’
‘Well, it seems crazy to us but I guess we can only say good luck to you.’
* * *
The next few weeks were taken up with preparations for his departure from the office. His partners had advertised for a locum to fill his place and Peter was asked to sit on the interview panel. He and his colleagues were encouraged that the advertisement had generated a strong field and they quickly agreed that Grace Jenkinson, a young solicitor with three years’ experience and excellent academic credentials, should be appointed. She had been working in Birmingham but had planned to move to London for personal reasons. The opportunity to work in the firm for a year suited her well and she would be available to work alongside Peter for the last two weeks of June to ensure a smooth handover. Peter was encouraged and buoyant. Everything seemed to be falling into place.
He decided to call Sally the following week. They agreed to meet once more in the restaurant where they had eaten in March.
They settled into their seats, ordered their food and a bottle of wine.
‘Well?’ said Sally.
‘Well, I have made some decisions about my life and, more importantly, taken steps to implement them.’
‘Sounds good – are you going to expand on that?’
He smiled. ‘Yes, I fear I rather burdened you a few weeks ago with the story of my life since our first, and definitely chance, encounter last summer. I have decided that events have created both a stimulus and an opportunity for me to chance my arm and detach myself from my job for a year. I, we, shall see if I have what it takes to be a writer. If I fail, then I can return to my job and see what else life might hold for me. You’ll have spotted that I have left a possible escape route open. I know this could be thought likely to reduce my commitment and that would be a fair judgment, but I can only work hard to ensure that it doesn’t.’
Sally raised her glass. ‘Good luck – I think that is very brave of you.’
‘I suspect my parents think it’s foolhardy although they have been polite enough not to say so. If I had simply resigned from the firm, they would surely have said something and I suspect that the words naïve and stupid would have been included in their comments. But you’ve made similar decisions and taken the same steps.’
‘Not exactly. I have always been a writer and initially I was salaried, working for a magazine group. When I went freelance, I already had an established career as a writer and I had contacts which stood me in good stead. The availability of freelance writers with an established track record is helpful to editors in that they can commission articles and features but without the inconvenience of having to pay a regular salary and without the other responsibilities of an employer. There are also risks. Two or three sub-standard submissions and further commissions will dry up like water in the desert. Word gets around fast; journalism is a relatively small world. Touch wood, that has not occurred so far.’
‘What are you working on at present?’
‘I have three items – fortunately with very different deadlines. The most ambitious is one which I suggested. It’s for a series of articles, and perhaps a book, about the infiltration of the French coast and countryside by the British over the course of recent years. This fits well with the location of my cottage in France and my fluency in the language. It also gives me the opportunity to travel to other areas of France where there are reasonable numbers of Brits. I shall have the opportunity to refer to the long history of the interactions, often fractious, between the English and the French. Additionally, it may give me the chance to spin off some articles on aspects of French life for travel magazines and one on a subject that particularly interests me – the number of English language authors who have lived in and been inspired by France (and I include some American writers in that).
‘Are there so many?’
‘Quite a number and some very influential ones. From way back they include Robert Louis Stevenson and Tobias Smollett. In the last hundred years, Henry James, Scott Fitzgerald, Somerset Maugham, Hemingway, Graham Greene, James Joyce, Henry Miller and Samuel Beckett.’
‘That’s quite a cast list.’
‘Yes, but what’s the next step for you?’
‘The next steps are purely practical. I have to work through a period of notice and ensure that there’s a smooth handover of business to my locum and my partners, particularly if I’m involved in any complex cases. At the start of July I shall take a brief holiday and then I shall go and buy a large quantity of paper and set to work, or I may even take the paper away with me and take the first tentative steps towards becoming a writer. I thought in the first instance I would rent a country cottage for three months, somewhere well away from London so that I can immerse myself in the effort, free from the distractions of everyday life.’
‘That sounds like a good plan – if you’re a success I might claim you as my protégé! Will you let me know how you’re getting on, even if things are not going well, which is bound to be the case at times?’
‘I shall.’
‘I’ll give you my other address – although with your well-honed detecting skills you could probably discover it for yourself!’
* * *
One evening early in June the telephone rang in Peter’s flat. ‘Hello, it’s Jenny – I was wondering how you are?’
Peter was surprised by the call as he had neither seen nor heard from Jenny since his separation from Ann. ‘I’m fine but how about you?’
‘I’m also doing well. The job is turning out to be much more interesting than I thought it would. An editorial assistant is normally the lowest form of animal life in the magazine publishing industry but we are such a small outfit that I’m doing things which could be considered way above my pay grade.’ She laughed. ‘Not that it has led to any increase in my pay, but I’m not complaining. But I really wanted to know how you were managing. I was so sorry you and Ann had parted. She doesn’t say very much about it other than that you’ve been very good and understanding. I’m just sorry that she has deprived me of a brother-in-law. I wondered if you might like to meet up for a drink one evening after work?’
‘That sounds like a nice idea.’ They arranged to meet immediately after work on the following Friday in a pub in Islington as, later that evening, Jenny was meeting a friend who had promised to take her to a jazz club and the pub was nearby.
They met as arranged and Peter bought drinks for both of them before settling in a corner of the bar.
‘How are you and your Mum and Ann?’ asked Peter. ‘And have you seen Ann and her new partner, Francis?’
‘Yes, to both those questions. Mum is very upset that Ann has left you. I know that you met only a few times but she took quite a shine to you and you were so gentle with her. She has been quite angry with Ann. Otherwise she is managing well. She has a good group of friends and, if I’m honest, I think the strain of looking after Dad over the last two years told on her more that she let on. I’m not saying they were not close, they were. It was a good marriage. But at one level I think his death has been a relief. We are both managing to get up to Newcastle every few weeks. Mum was quite right to resist pressure to move south. Ann seems to be happy. Francis is very different from you, more flamboyant, more loquacious and, I imagine, more given to risk-taking. Ann is also having to adapt to the presence of stepchildren on alternate weekends, two girls aged seven and five who are currently sizing up this new woman in their father’s life. I sense that Mum is a bit dubious about Francis. She thinks he’s a bit flash! She and I still feel that you’re a much better match for Ann than Francis.’
Peter shook his head slowly. ‘The water has flowed under that bridge. It’s not going to flow back again.’
‘I know. But tell me what is happening in your life.’
‘I think that I’m going to surprise you!’
‘Have you found another woman? That was quick work!’
Peter laughed. ‘No, I’ve not suddenly turned into a rash and impetuous Lothario!’ He paused. ‘I’m sure you remember that awful evening when Andrew was round and the terrible accident which followed his outburst that evening. There were some things which he said then which got under my skin. You probably also remember those few days when you stayed in the flat before the interview which led to your job. We talked for a time about ambitions and fantasies and you said that you would like to see me break free from my middle-class shackles and fly. Well, I’m about to do that, at least in part. I’m about to become a risk-taker.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes, in three weeks from now I shall be leaving my job for a year. I’ve been granted unpaid leave of absence for that time and I’m going to go away and write.’
‘But what are you going to write?’
‘Fiction.’
‘It’s often said that all first novels are autobiographical. Are we all going to be in it?’
/> ‘No. It sounds odd at this stage to say so but I have not formalised a theme in my mind yet. I’m sure I shall draw on my own experiences and observations and I’m certain that I shall pick and mix to create characters based on aspects of people I know, but I shall work hard to ensure that it is not autobiographical. I’m too private a person for that. I should feel too exposed if it were to be recognisably so. Of course, if it’s published that will not prevent people speculating. My family and friends might wonder what I’d been getting up to covertly, particularly if I include steamy sex scenes replete with anatomical detail!’
‘I really don’t know what to say other than that’s amazing! I do hope it works out for you. I’m just beginning to wonder if Ann’s new partner is a greater risk-taker than you! Would you mind if I ask from time to time how things are going?’
‘Not at all.’
‘I’m so glad that you agreed to have a drink – can we do this again?’
‘Absolutely.’
They talked on for a time and then Jenny looked up. ‘My friend is here to lead me to the jazz club and she’s got someone with her.’
