An Ocean Apart

by Robin Pilcher

  “Hullo, boys,” Jane said, reaching down to pat their heads.

  At the far end of the room, a figure moved in the high-backed armchair in front of the television. “Is that you, Effie?”

  Unable to move any closer due to the keenness of the dogs’ welcome, Jane called out, “No, Alicia, it’s me—Jane.”

  Alicia Inchelvie peered round the corner of the chair, bowing slightly to look over the top of her reading spectacles. “Jane! How wonderful to see you! What a lovely surprise!”

  She turned the television off with the remote control and rose to her feet, pushing a large ball of red wool onto the ends of two enormous knitting-needles. “Dogs, go and lie down and let poor Jane get into the room!”

  Alicia walked rather stiffly towards Jane, her spectacles, now dangling by a cord around her neck, swinging from side to side as she walked. She was a tall and erect figure, dressed in her customary elegance of a tweed skirt and cashmere cardigan, with her grey hair pulled tight and gathered in a comb at the back of her head. It was the first time that Jane had seen her since the funeral five weeks previously, and although Alicia’s whole comportment belied her seventy-eight years, it was obvious that even that short intervening period had taken its toll. There was now a drawn look on her face, a look of total fatigue, one that Jane surmised as being brought about by Alicia’s own inner conflict to keep her thoughts of loss and anguish under control, so that outwardly she could appear strong and supportive to the rest of her family.

  Two of the dogs took immediate heed of their mistress’s request to return to the fireside. The other, an old greying boy with opaque eyes and obviously fading hearing, continued to wag his tail and gaze up lovingly at Jane, impeding any attempt she made to move farther across the room. Alicia’s voice rose a full tone.

  “HORACE!” she yelled in the direction of the dog. “GO AND LIE DOWN BY THE FIRE.” She gesticulated like a policeman on point duty, waving on the old dog with one hand and pointing with the other, still clutching the knitting-needles, in the general direction of the fire. Horace looked sideways up at his mistress, her voice now having penetrated his senses, and, unclear as to why she held aloft those menacing objects in her hand, he slunk sheepishly away to join his younger companions.

  “I’m sorry,” Alicia said. “Horace is almost totally deaf now, rather like me. Can’t hear anything unless it’s at full volume. How are you, my dear?” She met Jane half-way across the room and gave her a kiss on both cheeks. “Come and sit down by the fire. What a revolting day! Would you like a cup of tea? I’ve just had one, but let me call Effie—”

  “No, don’t worry,” Jane interjected. “I’ve actually just had one with Effie in the kitchen.”

  Alicia looked at her, surprised. “Have you? How extraordinary; I never heard you come in. How long have you been here?”

  “Oh, about three quarters of an hour. No, actually I did want to speak to Effie about something.” She smiled knowingly at her friend. “At any rate, I didn’t want to interrupt the snooker!”

  “Ah, so she’s been telling you about my secret addiction, has she?” Alicia said, sitting back down in her chair. “I must say I get totally mesmerized by it, and it’s such a treat to see so many young Scots being rather good at a sport! Really makes one feel quite patriotic, although I’m sure that being good at snooker reveals a somewhat misspent youth!”

  “Absolutely,” said Jane. “Who needs exam results when you can make money potting balls!”

  They both dissolved into laughter, and Jane immediately felt at ease, any fears of how the overriding gloom of present circumstances might have affected her long-time friend expelled from her mind. They were still very much on the same wavelength, still able to laugh together.

  Alicia put on her spectacles again, uncoupled the ball of wool from the end of the needles and resumed her knitting. For a second there was silence, as if her thoughts were taken up on a different plane. Then she looked up and smiled across at Jane.

  “It’s lovely to see you, my dear. I really have missed you. As you can imagine, life hasn’t been filled with a great many happy thoughts lately.”

  “I quite understand. I should have popped in before now, but I didn’t want to intrude.” Jane watched Alicia as she concentrated on her knitting. “What are you making?”

  “Oh, just something that Sophie started during the last holidays. It seems to be the rage at her school to have a chunky sweater with huge arms that come down at least six inches over the hands.” She looked at Jane over her spectacles. “The waif look, I think. I took her into Inverness to see if we could find one, but they were all dreadfully acrylic, so we ended up buying a pattern and this rather garish wool.” Alicia held the shapeless garment up at arm’s length and wrinkled up the side of her nose in an expression of uncertainty as to what the end result might look like. “I have a feeling that it might look a little better on a large male gorilla than on Sophie.”

  “Well,” said Jane, “I’m sure that if Sophie doesn’t like it, there would be a welcome recipient at Edinburgh Zoo.”

  “You’re not meant to agree with me Jane,” Alicia retorted, feigning hurt. “You’re supposed to say something like ‘It’s far too well-made for that!’” She laughed, then abruptly bundled knitting-needles, sweater, and ball of wool into one heap and threw it onto the sofa. “Anyway, I don’t know why on earth I’m doing it when you’re here. Come on,” she said, getting up from her chair and manoeuvring her way through the prostrate dogs to put another log on the fire, “tell me what’s going on in the outside world. I don’t seem to have been in touch with anyone for so long.”

  It took Jane all of five minutes to fill Alicia in with the most important topics of local news: how the incessant rain had washed away part of the back road between Dalnachoil and Achnacudden, and how the local Territorial Army Brigade had come to the aid of the already overstretched roads division by erecting a temporary Baillie Bridge over the yawning gap; how Mrs. Mackenzie, the postmistress in Dalnachoil, had also been affected by the weather, bringing on a dreadful bout of arthritis which “literally ballooned up my ankles, Mrs. Spiers, and I have to serve all my customers sitting on a chair behind the counter wi’ my bedroom slippers on”; how everyone in the village had been asking kindly after all those at Inchelvie. And finally she told Alicia about how the influenza bug had hit the local school, and how Roger had taken it upon himself to visit all the children at home, rather than risk its spread by treating them in his surgery.

  Alicia looked concerned. “You know, my dear, that husband of yours works far too hard. I mean, he really should have retired last year, shouldn’t he? Maybe that’s a silly thing to say knowing that the prime reason he kept going was to look after Rachel, but now can’t he get one of his younger partners to do all these house calls? They really are going to have to start coping without him.”

  Jane sat back in her chair and sighed. “Oh, I know, and don’t think I haven’t put that argument forward on more than one occasion. What makes it more difficult is that I do have one of his partners phoning me up every so often to ask if I could gently persuade Roger to call it a day. I’m really caught between the devil and the deep blue sea. Anyway,” Jane said, sitting up and looking at Alicia, “we’re both in the same boat at the minute, aren’t we? Having husbands who should have retired but are still working?”

  Alicia smiled. “You’re right, but mine are more exceptional circumstances.”

  “Of course they are. Tell me, how is George?”

  “Like everyone else around here—totally exhausted, even though I think he’s actually secretly enjoying his return to active duty. Nevertheless, if you’ve been retired for ten years, suddenly to have to start working again really comes as a jolt to the system. Not that he’s hugely overtaxed. The new managing director at Glendurnich, Duncan Caple, is doing a wonderful job running both the business and David’s marketing division, but George just feels that as he’s the chairman and major shareholder and David�
�s father, he should give support where he can, especially as the whisky market seems to be in such turmoil at the minute. I don’t really pretend to know that much about it now, but there do seem to be an ever-increasing number of licensed trade dinners and marketing launches that George has to attend on behalf of the distillery.”

  Alicia paused for a moment, placing her elbow on the arm of the chair and resting the side of her face in her hand.

  “But do you know, Jane, what we both find so energy-sapping is having to go back to a hectic daily routine we thought we’d left behind years ago! Having to get up in the morning, having to get children ready for going back to school, and then having them here all the time meant that one was always on call to entertain them. Heavens, just before he went back to school, Charlie had me out on the lawn operating the clay-pigeon trap! Can you imagine it? I’m absolutely hopeless with mechanical devices, and he kept shouting at me, ‘Come on, Granny, you’re useless!’ as I launched off clays one after the other at about the level of his knees!” She laughed and sat forward in her chair. “Actually, come to think of it, this is about the first time that I’ve sat down and indulged myself for about a month!”

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Alicia,” said Jane, “and I come barging in and disrupt your peace.”

  Alicia waved her hand dismissively. “Don’t be silly, my dear. This is exactly what the doctor ordered.” She looked at Jane with a quizzical smile on her face. “Well, isn’t it?”

  Jane gave a surprised expression. “My word, that’s intuitive of you.” She smiled. “Of course, you’re right; Roger did ask me to drop in to see you, just to find out how you all were. That’s why I had a quiet word with Effie beforehand, just in case my timing wasn’t very good.” She paused for a moment. “She said that David is still keeping very much to himself.”

  “Yes, he is,” Alicia said quietly. One of the Labradors had moved from his position by the fire and now lay at her feet, his head resting on her shoe. She bent forward and stroked his sleek black crown. “You know, the appalling thing about this whole affair is that he’s going through something which neither you nor I have experienced. He has lost his life’s partner. It’s just so unfair.” Alicia’s tone had suddenly changed to one of anger and frustration. “Think of the many friends we have of our age who have lost their husbands or wives. That in a way is expected. But neither you nor I know what it’s like, because it hasn’t happened to us.” She stopped talking and combed a loose strand of grey hair behind her ear with her fingers, her eyes looking at a point somewhere behind Jane’s head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I think that that is the first time I’ve said it out loud. It’s just that it makes me feel … well … so guilty.”

  “But that’s natural,” Jane said caringly. “The pain of losing someone close to you always seems to manifest itself in anger or guilt. But there is a positive side to it, and that is that David is extremely lucky, at forty-three years of age or whatever, to still have both his parents around to give their support. How could he have devoted so much time to looking after Rachel if you and George hadn’t been there to pick up all the loose ends? Friends are great, but parents are better. And I’m sure that he’s fully aware of that.”

  “I know, I know, but one just feels so useless. I wish that there was something, well, active that I could do to help him. If only he would let himself talk about it once in a while, but he just seems to bottle himself up. As far as I’m aware, he hasn’t mentioned Rachel’s name since the funeral. Outwardly, it’s as if she never existed, but inwardly, I know he’s in turmoil. It’s a terrible thing to say, but sometimes I feel like grabbing the poor boy by the shoulders and giving him a jolly good shake.” Alicia took a deep breath. “And then giving him a huge hug.”

  In the moment’s silence that followed, Jane was aware for the first time of the wind and rain beating against the four large double-paned windows of the drawing-room. She looked over her shoulder and upwards at the black storm-clouds that spread themselves oppressively across the sky, and thought to herself how cruelly the elements accentuated the tragedy that had befallen this household. Her instincts told her that she shouldn’t follow this line of conversation any further. Enough had been said for the moment, and it would serve no useful purpose to either Alicia or herself to continue it. She turned from the window and shook her head.

  “Would you believe this weather for May?” She glanced up at the silver carriage clock on the mantelpiece above the fire. “It’s only a quarter past five, and it’s nearly dark.” She did a double take. “Oh, my word, Alicia, a quarter past five! What am I thinking of?” She put her hands on the arms of the chair and pushed herself to her feet. “Poor Arthur has been sitting all this time in the back of my car, and I promised him that I would only be a moment. He’ll probably have eaten his way through the dog rack by now.”

  Alicia rose stiffly from her chair. “My dear, you should have brought him in. The boys would have loved to have seen him.”

  “No, he would only have caused chaos. He’s not as well-behaved as your dogs. Anyway, we had a lovely walk on the moor earlier on this afternoon, and he was soaking wet.”

  “Well, he’s lucky to have such a devoted mistress to take him out on a day like this. I have to admit that I’ve been totally feeble. The boys’ walk today consisted of my going to the front door, opening it and pushing them out for ten minutes. I am certainly not going out in weather like this!” Alicia went over to one of the windows and unhooked the cords that held back the huge room-high damask curtains. “And I really don’t think that it is going to improve very much either. Better just to shut it out, don’t you think?” she said, pulling the heavy curtains across the window.

  Jane walked over to the middle window to do the same. As she unhooked the first cord, she looked out of the window at the darkness falling on the gardens of Inchelvie House. They were, even on this day, quite beautiful. Protected on either side by giant beech- and oak-trees, the long lawns swept majestically down to the dark frothy waters of the fishing-loch, their regularity split by meandering herbaceous borders with azaleas and rhododendrons in the early stages of bloom. Daffodils, still flowering due to the prolonged winter, bravely held their yellow heads high, a small splash of colour in defiance of the all-encompassing greyness of the day. To the right of the lawns, where two parallel paths ran between neat box hedges to the wall garden, Jane noticed that distinct changes had been made to the layout of the garden, the dark rich soil recently dug over to form two new flower-beds symmetrical to those on the west side of the lawn. She was about to turn and remark on this to Alicia, when a movement in the flower-bed farthest to the right caught her eye. She pressed her face closer to the window, cupping her hands around her eyes to cut out the light from the drawing-room behind her.

  “Alicia, there seem to be…” Jane felt Alicia’s arm brush hers as she came to stand beside her. She too cupped her hands over her face.

  Alicia continued for her. “… two men standing out in the wind and rain digging holes in the garden and getting extremely wet.”

  “What are they doing?” She screwed up her eyes in an attempt to accustom her sight better to the fading light.

  Alicia laughed. “My dear, don’t you recognize them? It’s David and Jock—you know, Effie’s husband. They’ve been out there all day planting roses in that new flower-bed.”

  Jane turned and looked incredulously at Alicia. “In weather like this? What on earth for? They could end up catching double pneumonia if they’re not careful.”

  “I tell you, it’s more than my life’s worth to try to stop them. For the past five months, that garden has been David’s greatest therapy.”

  “Really? In what way?” Jane said, turning back to look out the window to where the two men were working.

  Alicia drew one of the curtains across the window. “Do you remember when David gave up work at Glendurnich last December and moved Rachel and the family here from The Beeches after her first course of chemotherap
y?”

  “Yes, of course,” Jane said, standing back from the window to allow the other curtain to be drawn across.

  “Well, at that time George thought that it would be a good idea if David had something to occupy his mind, so he asked him to help look after the estate.” Alicia moved away from the window and leaned against the back of one of the sofas, her arms stretched out at either side to support her. “Anyway, it became pretty clear to David that the farm manager was coping quite well without his input, and it just happened that while he was looking for some papers in the farm office one day, he unearthed these old plans of how the Inchelvie gardens looked when the house was first built. Apparently, some of the original flower-beds had vanished, I think probably sown out in grass about the time of the Great War, when manpower was scarce. So, on an impulse, David took it upon himself to reinstate the garden to its former glory, and that is where he has quite literally spent every free minute since. Whenever Rachel was receiving treatment in Inverness or just in the house asleep, David would head out to the garden, pore over his old drawings, and start digging away.” Alicia laughed, raising herself from the back of the sofa. “Somewhere along the line, he roped in Jock to give him a hand. I don’t think the old boy has ever worked so hard in his life.”

  They both walked over to the third window. It was now almost totally dark outside, but once again they cupped their hands around their faces to look out the window. The two figures had now moved closer to the house, and were dimly lit by the weak shaft of light that came from Jane and Alicia’s window. David, bareheaded, with his hair plastered flat by the rain, stood talking to Jock, who, enveloped in a huge yellow fisherman’s raincoat, peered from the shelter of an equally large sou’wester at the plastic-covered paper that David held in his right hand.

  Alicia and Jane moved back from the window, both instinctively feeling that they didn’t want to be caught looking out at the two men. Alicia turned and smiled at Jane. “The anger that that garden must have absorbed over the past five months has to be immeasurable.”