Beyond the Arch

by David Evered

  ‘My head tells me that I probably should not be encouraging you to talk. It’s up to you. I am receptive though.’ She walked across and put her arms round him. ‘Nothing you say will alter my feelings for you – but everything you say gives me further insights into the hidden Peter Bowman.’

  Peter put his head on one side and looked quizzically at her. ‘If I’m honest, I’m not sure that I could say with any precision what exactly my relationship is with you. All I do know is that I have enjoyed your company and that making love to you has been wonderful and seemed an entirely natural thing to do.’

  ‘I’m happy with that. You’re excellent company and I hope that despite the challenges of geography we shall continue to enjoy each other’s company in all ways. Neither of us knows what the future might have in store for us separately or together. I am content with that and I appreciate your honesty and openness.’

  ‘Sally has this phrase “loving friends”.’

  ‘I like the concept and I love the reality. I hope that I’ve acquired that status.’

  ‘You have been shortlisted and appointed!’

  ‘Then we should confirm that relationship in the immediate future.’

  * * *

  Peter left Lyon on the Monday to return to England. He and Julie promised to keep in touch and arranged to meet again in London over the Christmas period.

  25

  Peter looked round his flat the morning after his arrival back in England. The time he had been in France had been invaluable and had effectively removed him from the trivia and concerns of everyday life in London. With Sally’s encouragement and example, he had established a disciplined approach to writing which he was sure he could now continue in his own flat. He was about to leave to re-stock with the essentials of daily life when the doorbell rang. It was Sue investigating the noises which she had heard from her flat below. She had assumed that he had returned but wanted to reassure herself that this was the case. She was on her way to work but invited him to join her for a coffee that evening. It would be the first step towards picking up the threads of his social life in London and he determined to do so that day by calling family and friends.

  Three days later he had been out and returned at the end of the afternoon. As he unlocked the door of the flat, he heard the sound of the kettle boiling in the kitchen. He opened the door slowly and was astonished to see Ann standing by the kettle looking very despondent, preparing to make a pot of tea. ‘What are you doing here?’ he asked in surprise.

  She looked up. ‘I persuaded Sue to let me in. I probably shouldn’t have done but I didn’t know where else to go.’

  ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’ve left Francis.’

  ‘Why – what’s happened?’

  ‘It’s a long story,’ she hesitated, ‘or perhaps not such a long story. It had always been whispered around the building that he was a bit of a womaniser but he denied this and dismissed it as office gossip. It has become clear over the last nine months that it was not only office gossip but it was also true. There was an incident early in the summer and he promised that it had been a one-off and would not be repeated. I discovered at the start of this week that the affair had continued without interruption. I really couldn’t take that so I’ve left him. I packed my bags early this morning and left. He didn’t make a great deal of effort to dissuade me from going and oddly that also hurt.’

  Peter sat down at the kitchen table and took the mug of tea which Ann offered him. ‘I am so sorry. What are you planning to do now?’

  She sat silently for several minutes before saying, ‘I really have no right to ask this but I was hoping that you would let me come back.’

  ‘Do you mean as my wife?’

  ‘Yes.’ After a moment she added, ‘I do know it’s unreasonable to ask this and entirely out of the blue. I’m sure you won’t want to answer that immediately.’

  There was a long pause before he did answer. ‘Ann, a lot of water has flowed under innumerable bridges since Valentine’s day. It will not flow back again. My life has changed immeasurably since then, maybe temporarily, possibly permanently. But whatever I might be doing and wherever I might be, my life will and can never be the same again.’

  ‘I know from Jenny that you’ve been staying in France writing, although she doesn’t say very much, but I am still your wife. Can you not try and look at things from my point of view, whatever you may have been doing?’

  ‘I’m trying to do so but, be fair, I also have to look at it from my point of view and I cannot see that we can recreate the life which we had a year ago.’

  ‘Why not? I’m sure that I can adapt or have you found another woman?’ She looked across at Peter who was patently discomfited by this direct question. ‘I can see that you have.’

  Peter hesitated before answering, picking his words with some care. ‘The answer is that I have made some new friends, some of whom are women but the answer to the implications of your question is “no”.’

  ‘I know you’re still seeing Jenny and that you took her to Newcastle. That seems very disloyal.’

  ‘Yes, I have seen Jenny on several occasions. And I didn’t take her to Newcastle. I went with her to Newcastle at her suggestion when she had already planned to go and see your mother. I was, am, fond of your Mum, but I have not been and never have been “seeing” your sister in the sense that you insinuate.’ Peter was getting angry at this interrogation. ‘I’m fond of your sister too. She has become and remains a friend and the suggestion that I have been disloyal is inaccurate and ironic, considering the circumstances which led to our parting.’ He hesitated once more before adding, ‘Ann, I really do think we should stop this discussion. It has the potential to descend into a flaming row which I don’t want and which will certainly not help you.’

  There was a long silence before she said contritely, ‘Yes, I’m sorry. You’re right but what am I to do? I’ve nowhere to go.’

  He hesitated again for some moments and then reluctantly said, ‘You can stay here for a few days in the spare room while you find alternative accommodation. I assume you’re still in your job.’

  ‘Yes, but I can’t continue working there now. I shall be looking for other opportunities.’

  Later that night, after he had gone to bed, there was a knock on the door of the bedroom. ‘Can I join you just for tonight? I feel so alone.’

  ‘Ann, that’s not a good idea. If you cannot sleep, I’ll make some tea and we can sit and talk in the kitchen for a bit. I understand that you feel isolated and friendless just now and, if I can help, I will but we simply do not have a future together.’

  ‘Yes, you have made that clear and you’re probably right. It’s not quite the right phrase but I guess I’ve made my bed and now I must lie on it – alone.’ She gave a wan smile.

  The following day Peter rang Sue’s doorbell. ‘I’m sorry that I let Ann into your flat,’ she said when she answered. ‘I probably shouldn’t have done that but she looked so desolate. Is she still here?’

  ‘Yes, she slept in the spare room. She really had nowhere else to go and I couldn’t refuse her that. She hoped that we might have a future together but I cannot see that. But I can see it will difficult sharing the flat for an indefinite period until she finds somewhere else. She told me she will also be looking for a new job. I was wondering whether you would consider putting her up for a time?’

  ‘Yes, with pleasure. She was very kind to me after Andrew’s accident and death. It’s the least I can do. There will then be less pressure on her to move on very quickly, which might avoid her making a hasty decision which she would later regret. I can see that it will ease what could be a very difficult situation for you.’

  ‘That would be immensely kind of you. And how are you doing now? It’s over a year since you lost Andrew and I know how much he meant to you.’

  ‘I’ve s
tarted to come to terms with it although it will still be some time before I feel able to socialise fully and freely again.’

  ‘If you’re providing accommodation for Ann, I hope that you both might have an evening meal with me from time to time. I can reassure you that after more than four months in France my culinary skills have improved! Also, I’ve never thanked you properly for keeping an eye on the flat and for forwarding mail.’

  ‘That was no problem. I hope your time away was productive and how is your lady friend who brought your keys round?’

  ‘She’s still in France as she has several articles to produce for her magazine group within the next week or so. She’ll be coming back to London sometime next month. I think I would describe her as a friend who is a lady rather than my lady friend! She is a highly independent woman who has been very helpful to me.’

  * * *

  Peter invited Michael to join him in the flat on the Saturday following his return. He arrived shortly after seven. He looked at Peter. ‘I’ve just bumped into Ann on the stairs – she was going into the flat below yours. Are you together again?’

  ‘No, her liaison with her new partner didn’t work out so she has left him. She showed up here quite unexpectedly a few days ago because she had nowhere else to go.’

  ‘Are you likely to get together again?’

  ‘No – she suggested it but it would not, could not, work now.’

  ‘You say that very emphatically.’

  ‘Yes, and it’s right. She spent a night in the spare room here and then I asked Sue in the flat below if she might accommodate her. I’ve said I’d be happy to help her find other accommodation. She’s in a bit of a mess. It’s not just kindness on my part. There’s also a certain amount of self-interest involved. So much has occurred since I left London at the end of June.’

  ‘Are you going to tell me about it?’

  ‘Sure and I hope you’ll bring me up to date with your life.’

  ‘So how is the magnum opus progressing?’

  ‘I think that parvum opus would be a more satisfactory description at the moment. But I’m enjoying the physical process of writing and there are many days when I’m eager to complete my breakfast and get on with it. I’ve started with a topic which I know something about – a tug of love story with an English father domiciled in France and a French mother working in England. I’ve had a discussion with a French lawyer but most of the issues occur when one or both parents act in ways which are not in accord with the law in either jurisdiction.’

  ‘And how is this going to turn out?’

  ‘I really don’t know. It seems curious to say but as I write the characters develop and take on lives of their own. I go over possible scenarios in my own mind and try and assess what each character would be likely to do next as they move forward in the narrative. I’m as curious to see what the outcome might be as you are!’

  ‘That seems a rather anarchic way to proceed!’

  ‘It probably is but I rationalise it on the basis that it mirrors life and I’m enjoying the uncertainty.’

  ‘And is that true of your life in general?’

  ‘I think it is. I don’t know if at the end of my sabbatical I shall return to being a boring, jobbing solicitor or if I shall have found a new career. I have lived all my life until early this year travelling along predetermined tracks and I’m now finding the uncertainties of my present existence exhilarating. I’ve met people and been exposed to environments, events and emotions in a way which has never been the case before.’

  ‘Give me some examples.’

  ‘I suppose the experiences which mainly stand out are the ones which are uniquely French. I have experienced two particularly French celebrations – Bastille Day in rural France and the arrival of Beaujolais Nouveau in Lyon. This has been on top of living in “la France profonde” and starting to see it as local people do, rather than as a tourist, although my perceptions are still limited by my inadequate knowledge of the language.’

  ‘That lists the events and that must have been fascinating, but tell me about the people, including the newly acquired friend or friends.’

  ‘That has perhaps been the most intriguing and exciting element of the last year but, most of all, it’s complicated.’ Peter recounted his personal and emotional experiences over the previous six months.

  Michael leant back in his chair with an amused smile on his face. ‘Complicated appears to be the understatement of the year, if not the decade. Let me just run this past you to see if I’ve grasped the essentials. In five months you’ve abandoned your eminently respectable job and acquired two lovers: one an enigmatic English journalist with a periodic need for intimacy and the other an extrovert internationally-minded American with a healthy sexual appetite. At the same time, your ex-wife and your former sister-in-law are both bidding for entry rights to your bed, although not simultaneously, but admission to both has been denied to date. Complicated gets nowhere near being an adequate description and yet you seem to be entirely relaxed about it and even insouciant. Is that a reasonable summary of the present position?’

  Peter laughed. ‘Yes, stripped to its essentials, that’s about right.’

  ‘I said on an earlier occasion that I would not and should not offer you advice. I’m certainly not going to now. It would be a very brave man who would venture into this particular emotional minefield! It’s clear you’ve shed all residual traces of your nonconformist upbringing, but I’m curious. Your year away from your partnership is less than half complete. On the basis of your experiences to date, I’d hesitate to predict what your personal situation might be after another six months. What do you see as your future after next summer – licensed libertine or salt of the earth family man?’

  ‘I really don’t know and I’m wholly unconcerned. Now tell me what you’ve been doing in the last few months and how your political aspirations are shaping up.’

  ‘First, I cannot for one moment match your narrative for interest, but I have been shortlisted as a prospective parliamentary candidate for a seat in the north-west. It’s difficult to judge my chances of being selected but if I am, there’s a good chance of my being elected, as it’s been held consistently by Labour for many years. More usually, a tyro would be selected for a safe Tory seat first time around. That’s the standard approach and if the aspirant candidate were to cut the majority significantly, or at least do better than national trends, then he or she would stand a good chance of being selected in a more hopeful constituency later. It looks as though I might have by-passed that stage in the process. I have, however, discovered that it’s helpful to have a wife, even in this day and age. That would obviously be straightforward if I had your allure but unfortunately I have no queue of beautiful women, or even any unprepossessing women, wishing to declare their undying love and devotion to me! Any tips you can give me would be invaluable. You must keep me in touch. I can scarcely wait to hear the next instalment!’ He laughed. ‘I might even be tempted to write a novel myself, based on your recent activities!’

  ‘I shall be here for the next few months at least, and probably permanently. Yes, it would be good to see more of each other, and possibly you might even meet some of the characters in the drama – but probably not all at the same time!’

  ‘It would be good to see Jenny again and meet the others. I should be the soul of diplomacy.’

  26

  The telephone rang in the flat a few days later. Jenny said that she was planning to see Ann that afternoon and asked if he would be free to go for a drink afterwards. She arrived shortly after six and suggested they talked first and then went to the pub round the corner a little later. ‘I heard Ann was staying with Sue in the flat below you,’ she said. ‘She told me that she’d wanted to come back to you but that you had refused to let her stay in your flat.’

  ‘Jenny, that makes it sound more brutal than it was. It really
was not like that. This will be quite difficult to explain but I should like to be open with you. What happened is this. I came back here about ten days ago to find Ann in the flat. Sue had let her in. It was obvious, as you have discovered, that she has had a very unhappy time. I’m genuinely sorry the relationship with Francis didn’t work out, although from what she told me it might be better for her in the long run. She said she hoped that we might get together again permanently and asked me to think about it. She also suggested that we should share what had been our bedroom that night. I did say, as gently as I could, that I would find it difficult to reverse the clock and that too much had happened to her, and to me, since last February for that to happen. You know much of what has been happening to me. It’s difficult, I know. I really don’t want to be judgemental. I’ve seen this when handling divorces. Perfectly decent and reasonable people marry when young and over the years their personalities and ambitions develop and grow, sometimes in harmony but sometimes independently. It’s not a question of fault; it’s just the way people are. If I look back at us, I can see there had been a degree of divergence and that we had probably been growing apart for some time. It’s just that it occurred over such a long time frame and so slowly that probably neither of us recognised it. Ann’s decision to leave simply brought everything into sharp focus and forced me to take a more analytical view of my life than I’d done previously. It also, as you know, encouraged me to reappraise my future and, as a result, I’ve discovered additional dimensions to life which I had never previously envisaged. I couldn’t go back now. I asked Sue if Ann could stay in her flat while she was looking for alternative accommodation. This was partly because I’m in the flat writing for much of the day. I could foresee tensions, however hard we tried to avoid the thin ice, particularly if we were both there in the evenings and over the weekends. We could, I suppose, by mutual agreement, have arranged that one or other of us was out at those times to minimise opportunities for confrontation. I also thought the independence of each of us might be compromised if we felt that courtesy demanded we discuss our daily activities in a companionable way as we would have done a year ago. That said, we have seen something of each other and, together with Sue, the three of us have had a meal together and I’ve no doubt we’ll do so again.’