Beyond the Arch

by David Evered

  ‘That’s quite a tale. She sounds an interesting woman. Will we meet her when we come to France? But first, can I ask how the writing is going? Are we going to see a magnum opus?’

  ‘No, you won’t see her in France as she’ll be away for the next two months. I simply cannot judge how the writing is going at the moment but I’m finding the process of placing words on paper much more straightforward than I did at the outset and I’m much enjoying it, but that’s no guarantee of quality.’

  ‘Has Sally seen and commented on any of your writings?’

  ‘No, I haven’t shown her anything yet. I feel disinclined to until after I’ve revised and polished my streams of consciousness to the best of my ability, but I shall do so at a later date.’

  ‘I really have no business to ask this but are you and she what the tabloids would call “an item”? You can perfectly reasonably tell me to bugger off and that it’s no business of mine.’

  ‘No, it’s a natural question and I think that the honest answer is “no”, although it’s more complicated than that. She is, as I said, highly independent.’

  ‘Peter, you’ve been so open with me. It seems that your life has not just become more complicated but also much more interesting and much more fun. I feel flattered that you should trust me so completely. Now I’m going to do something quite improper that no sister-in-law or even ex-sister-in-law should do.’ She stopped him and, putting her arms around him, kissed him fully and generously on the lips. She drew back for a moment, ‘and I won’t promise not to do that again.’

  Peter smiled and held her for several moments before gently disengaging. They walked the short remaining distance back to Embleton holding hands. Peggy was sitting in the sun outside the inn. ‘I’m sorry, we’ve been gone for longer than we expected,’ said Jenny.

  ‘Not to worry. I’ve been very happy here and have chatted to one or two others while you’ve been walking. It has been a wonderful day. Thank you for bringing me here. It has brought back so many special memories.’

  Peter looked across at Jenny. ‘It has brought back some special memories for all of us, and maybe generated some new ones.’

  Jenny winked at him. Peggy looked at them enquiringly but said nothing.

  * * *

  Jenny and Peter took the train back to London the following day. ‘Tell me what plans you have made for your holiday in France.’

  ‘Stefan and Cass have arranged to hire a motor home for two weeks from the weekend after next. We don’t have any clear plans and originally thought we would just wander where the wind blew. We’ve agreed that we should travel south and have all started to have ideas. Stefan has discovered that there’s a jazz festival near St Etienne towards the end of our little break and he wants to take that in. It looks as though it’s only a couple of hundred miles from the Dordogne and I’ve persuaded the others that we should visit you. They didn’t need too much persuasion. Would that be alright with you?’

  ‘Yes, of course. There are a number of campsites in the area which won’t be crowded in September but I’m sure Sally wouldn’t mind you camping next to the house. I’ll ask her. I’ll give you the number and you can call when details of your travel plans become clearer. You could even call en route but in any event I’ll expect you for a day or two around the weekend of 12th September.’ They parted with a kiss and a hug at King’s Cross. ‘À bientôt, Jenny.’

  21

  Peter called Sally during the evening of his return from the north-east and suggested meeting up near his flat the following evening as he would be flying back to France the next day. They met for a drink at the Sun Inn overlooking the village green and pond in Barnes and sat outside, glasses of wine in hand, watching the setting sun glance off the mellow red bricks of the lion houses across the green.

  ‘I’ve so much to tell you,’ said Sally. ‘I tried to call you over the weekend but couldn’t get hold of you. Perhaps you were with your parents.’

  ‘No, I went to Newcastle for the weekend.’

  ‘I didn’t know that was on your schedule.’

  ‘It wasn’t. I’ll tell you all, but first tell me what you’ve been up to.’

  ‘I’ve spent three days at the office and need to be there for the next two. They’ve been very helpful but it’s taken a long time and multiple telephone calls to arrange my planned schedule. You saw the list of places I’d like to visit but I’m sure I’ll have to amend it on the hoof as the availability of people may change – you know how it is with busy people. The plan is that it will all be framed, so to speak, around the time of the Federal German elections on the last Sunday in September. My itinerary has layers of complexity as I need to factor in the availability of different people in different locations, all with busy schedules and many travel as part of their work. Then I must incorporate time for random interviews as well. It’s a nightmare. I spent much of the weekend with maps of Germany and France trying to sort out the best and most time-effective itinerary. But tell me, what have you been doing while you’ve been here?’

  ‘I went to see my parents as promised and spent a night there. Inevitably, I was grilled relentlessly by my mother. They still think I’ve taken leave of my senses and wonder at the extent to which I have allowed my emotions and events to shape my life since Ann and I parted. But it was good to see them. I called Jenny, my ex-sister-in-law. You may remember, I told you that she and her friends are planning to holiday in France next month. I wanted to meet and find out what their plans and timings actually were. She was off to Newcastle the day I left my parents’ house and suggested out of the blue that I went too. She was also somewhat irritated that Ann had not been to visit her Mum for some time.’

  ‘Did you hear how your ex-wife is doing?’

  ‘Jenny has seen very little of her. She’s not sure how happy her sister is. She doesn’t warm to Francis and neither, I think, does her mother. Anyhow, I agreed to go. Although I have only met her Mum a few times, I am rather fond of her and I didn’t have anything particularly planned for what was forecast to be quite a wet weekend.’

  ‘And how was she?’

  ‘On remarkably good form. I understand that it was a very secure marriage so she misses Graham very much. I also think the effort of looking after him had been considerable and she is now more at ease but somewhat lonely at times. She and Jenny are very close but she’s much more uncertain about her elder daughter. I think, in part, she’s surprised that Ann, who is the more conventional of the two, should have abandoned a marriage to someone as pedestrian and boring as me. Jenny, who’s much more of a free spirit, has a strong bond with her mother. I sense that if Peggy had been born a generation later she would have been much less bound by the fetters of Geordie convention and would have been very much like Jenny.’

  ‘So how did you spend this wet weekend?’

  ‘I stayed in a hotel as her Mum’s flat is so small but I spent the days with the two of them. On the Sunday, Jenny walked me round the historic areas of Newcastle and in the afternoon all three of us went and laid flowers on her Dad’s grave. I wasn’t sure what we might do to occupy ourselves on the Monday but, with the forecast predicting better weather, I suggested hiring a car and driving up the coast. Jenny and her Mum agreed with alacrity and directed us to a little village called Beadnell on the coast a little south of Bamburgh where we went last year. It was where they spent their holidays when Ann and Jenny were kids so it was a nostalgic trip for them which revived many fond memories. The bay at Beadnell is amazing – a long expanse of flat sand backed by dunes with an amazing array of bird life and Dunstanburgh Castle can be seen in the distance. Jenny was as excited as a small girl and really relived her childhood, running barefoot up and down the dunes! There seems to be something uniquely female about wanting to run barefoot on the beach!’

  Sally laughed. ‘It conveys a sense of freedom. You should try it as the next step in your emancipa
tion!’

  ‘Perhaps I should. Anyhow, we then went and had lunch in a pub in a small village between Beadnell and Dunstanburgh. I think it was where you parked your car last year. Then Jenny and I walked along the path and the beach to the castle.’

  She smiled, ‘I begin to sense where this narrative is leading – and?’

  ‘I saw it as a sort of anniversary and the start of a journey. As Mao said at the start of the Long March, a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step and, looking back, I saw that this had been the start of a long journey for me, an odyssey which is still not complete. I looked up the exact definition of an odyssey today. My dictionary defines it as a long, wandering voyage usually marked by many changes of fortune. That seems to describe my last year with great exactitude and it reminded me of our meeting.’

  She laughed. ‘You’re just a romantic at heart.’

  ‘Only when I have good reason to be.’

  She squeezed his hand. ‘What you’ve just said brings back happy memories for me as well. But what are the next steps on your journey?’

  ‘Purely practical. I need to gather a better dictionary, a thesaurus, some reams of paper and rather more clothing than I took to France for my week which turned into two months, particularly as autumn will be well established by the time you get back to Sarlat. I shall then live the life of a hermit until you return!’

  She smiled. ‘I predict that you might not live an entirely cloistered life.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but now let’s walk along to the restaurant and have something to eat.’

  ‘Good idea. The planning of my trip has been interesting but frustrating at times. I’ve been following the press. There’s been a certain amount of coverage about our possible future relationship with Europe, and political figures as diverse as Enoch Powell and Tony Benn seem to be leading the forces against our joining. Incidentally, why do we keep referring to it as Europe when we’re already geographically part of the continent and, from my point of view, culturally as well? The more I look at the ground I have to cover and the significance of the event, the more apprehensive and irresolute I become.’

  ‘But you generally seem so unfazed.’

  She laughed. ‘Sadly no, Peter. You don’t know what mass of uncertainties and insecurities lie deep beneath my carapace!’

  ‘Would you allow a loving friend to lift it gently or penetrate it sometime?’

  ‘Possibly. You’re a good companion, Peter. You listen and you don’t probe – well, not too much or too often!’

  ‘Not from lack of interest or sheer curiosity. Some of it derives from my professional background but probably mostly it comes from the middle-class view that it’s not quite the done thing to breach someone’s privacy and innermost thoughts, although the urge to do so is often overwhelming.’

  ‘Well, I’m grateful to you for house-sitting for me for the next two months. You’ll find Sarlat a very different place once the summer visitors have all migrated.’

  ‘On quite a different subject, would there be any problem when Jenny and her wacky friends come if they were to sleep in their motor home beside the house?’

  ‘Not at all – and, from what you’ve told me, they’re your wacky friends as well! It will also prevent you from following an undisturbed eremitic existence.’

  ‘Touché, and I shall try and ensure that my French vocabulary is a little more extensive than that by the time you come back. Will you let me know how the project is progressing from time to time, when you have the odd free moment?’

  ‘Yes, of course, and I’ll let you have my itinerary when it’s been finalised.’

  The evening passed in easy conversation and comfortable silences. Finally, it was time to part. Sally held him close and whispered in his ear, ‘I have a confession to make. I have a toothbrush and a pair of clean knickers in my bag.’

  He kissed her. ‘That’s a coincidence as I have the ideal place nearby where you can brush your teeth and change your knickers.’

  * * *

  Peter arrived back at the house in France late on the Thursday and started preparing himself for a bachelor existence. He found a note addressed to him from Jonathan and Tilly Browning, inviting him to dinner on the Friday of the following week and offering him a bed overnight. He called and accepted with alacrity. He spent the following morning shopping and planning his work.

  He found, unlike the first time he settled at a desk, that he was eager to put pen to paper. It no longer required determination and fixity of purpose to drive his pen forward in these remote and ideal surroundings. The words flowed at times without effort or strain and at others after lengthy periods of hesitation and contemplation. For the first few days he abandoned the work schedule that he had set himself and wrote steadily throughout the day. The occasional visits to the town for provisions were necessary but unwelcome intrusions. The narrative was taking shape.

  The following Friday he drove to the Browning’s château overlooking the Vézère. His breath was taken away by the eye-catching silhouette of the castle as he approached. The walls of the pale golden stone of the Périgord shone radiantly in the lambent light of the late afternoon sun. It had features of a defensive castle, with crenellated turrets and machicolations but it was also recognisable as a small Renaissance château. A long terrace facing the river fronted the castle, where a few of the hotel guests were taking a glass of wine. He entered and was taken aback by the great staircase which faced him and the massive chimneypiece dominating the side of the hall. The reception area was deserted. He rang a small bell and Tilly descended the stairway.

  ‘Welcome to our little abode! It’s good to see you again. I’m so glad you could come. I’ll show you where you’re going to sleep and when you’ve sorted your things out, you must come and join Jonny and me for a drink.’

  ‘I have brought some night things but would be very happy to drive back to Sally’s house. I know you’re running a business here.’

  ‘We wouldn’t dream of it. We’re entering the quieter time of year and will close for the winter at the beginning of November.’ She led him to a room in one of the turrets overlooking the valley and the river. ‘Come down in a few minutes. Part way down the great staircase there is a door marked “Privé”. Ignore that and come straight into our own rooms in the castle.’

  Peter took some time to adapt to the magnificence of his room and the view before making his way down to join his hosts. A glass of wine in his hand, he turned to Jonny and said, ‘I can see why you fell in love with this place and why you might have bought on impulse. How much did you have to do to it?’

  ‘A great deal. It took us a year, dealing with so many different trades and professions. Sally was very helpful once or twice with her immaculate French, overlain by her feminine charm.’

  ‘But what a change in life!’

  ‘Yes, but you’ve also done that.’

  ‘Not with quite the same degree of finality. I’ve taken leave of absence from my firm for a year, at least in the first instance.’ The last phrase slipped out inadvertently. This was the first occasion on which he had openly admitted the possibility that he might not return to his profession the following year.

  ‘Nevertheless, I think it might have been more straightforward for me. I’m somewhat older. I’d just had my fiftieth birthday – two and a half years ago – when we saw this place. My practice had done well with renovations work and new builds in the twenty or so years after the war. We were fortunate enough to be comfortable financially and I felt I wanted a lifestyle change. I had always hoped to retire shortly before I was sixty. The chance finding of this place while we were on holiday seemed serendipitous. We jumped at the opportunity. This is the first season for the hotel and it seems to be doing well.’ He looked at Tilly. ‘And we have no regrets.’

  ‘Absolutely not. We have retained a toehold in the property market back h
ome with a small flat in London in the same block where our one and only son lives. The plan is that we spend our summers here and part of the winter in London. The winters in this part of France can be very cold.’

  ‘How did you get to know Sally?’

  ‘Ah, we knew her before we came here. Much of my personal architectural practice was focused on the care and restoration of historic buildings. I also designed a number of buildings in a classical style – or pastiches as my critics would have it. But they were popular with many people. I met Will and Colette Dunham many years ago when I was supervising some work on the British Embassy in Vienna. We got on well and when they returned to London between postings we would see them socially from time to time. We got to know them quite well. Sadly both died relatively young but Sally inherited Colette’s house here near Sarlat.’

  He poured Peter a second glass of wine. ‘Now, you will have to excuse us for ten or fifteen minutes as we must go and glad-hand the guests. After all, the success of this place depends on them coming back and recommending it to their friends! We shall eat here in our part of the castle but the food will come from the hotel kitchen.’ He handed Peter a menu. ‘Browse through that and decide what you would like this evening. If it helps, I have put out a bottle of Gigondas for us to have with the meal.’ By the time Tilly and Jonny returned, he had chosen an escabèche of mackerel to be followed by a fillet of beef with foie gras and a pepper sauce.