An Ocean Apart

by Robin Pilcher

  “People say I’m the life of a party, ’cos I have a drink or two.”

  “David, nothing is going to happen, I promise you. I won’t let it. We do nothing more than dance. That’s all—but there is this one very beautiful and special ghost that we have to exorcize.”

  She pulled him back towards her, and this time her lips had no need to work their way to his mouth. He was there, waiting for her, ready for her, and together they began moving gently, as one, around the tiny confines of the living-room.

  And still Smokey sang …

  Chapter THIRTY-ONE

  Jasmine really didn’t know what had hit her over the next couple of days. The house had suddenly lost its usual airy tranquillity and been turned into a place of vociferous mayhem. The route leading from the hall through the passageway and into the kitchen had come to resemble more the Indianapolis Speedway, and she would often find herself having to jump clear of a gaggle of screaming children as they burst through the kitchen like a litter of unruly puppies. And even though they spent most of their time outside in the swimming pool or on the tennis court, there always seemed to be a child at her side, either asking advice as to where something had been left, or where somebody was, or what time the next meal was going to be.

  But she didn’t mind. In fact, she revelled in it. Not only because she loved having so many children about her, but also because of the sheer relief she felt in not having to be party to any further clandestine fibs or secrecies. Jennifer was now part of it, wholly integrated into this new uproarious way of life that Jasmine herself had been enjoying, though somewhat guiltily, over the past week.

  Furthermore, Jennifer seemed to be a changed person, having almost an aura of serenity about her that Jasmine had never before witnessed. Gone was the rushed and, at times, offhand formality of the business woman, replaced by a more gentle, relaxed character who appeared totally content in giving her complete and undivided attention to the new household. Yet despite being happy about this inexplicable change, Jasmine found herself becoming increasingly concerned about what effect Alex’s wrongdoings might have on this new, more vulnerable, Jennifer if she were ever to find out about them.

  A further change was that, without any hint of favour or encouragement, she had acquired a constant shadow in the form of Harriet. The child was always there at her side, either asking if she could help her cook or bake a cake, usually at a time when she was attempting to prepare yet another gargantuan meal for the troops. Jasmine eventually concluded that one of her main assets in attracting so much attention from the little girl was the colour of her skin, in that whatever they did together, Harriet would just stare up at her, her eyes wide with fascination, as she moved her head from side to side, quite unashamedly studying every pore on Jasmine’s face.

  David, meanwhile, had found it impossible to do any further work in the garden, not because he didn’t want to, but because, on making his first appearance with a hoe and fork in hand, he was met with such a derisive cry of “Boooriiiing!”—for the most part orchestrated by Jennifer herself—that he was left with no option but to return his tools unused to the garden shed. Feeling almost heavy-hearted about it, he shut the doors and locked them up, knowing that he was probably doing so for the last time.

  Nevertheless, there was now no excuse or covert reason for not devoting himself entirely both to his children and to Jennifer, Benji, and Jasmine. Moreover, as the week unfolded, it became apparent to him that, right here and now, he was in the company of those with whom he most wanted to spend his time. There were trips to Fire Island, excursions into Leesport in the Volkswagen, disruptive visits to the huge multiplex cinema in Sayville, always returning at the end of the day to Barker Lane, where tennis matches and swimming competitions continued well on into the evening.

  After their first night in Jennifer’s house, the children quickly came to the conclusion that it had far more to offer in terms of comfort and amenities than the saltbox in Shore Street, and it was therefore agreed, to a man, that they would prefer to stay there. Sophie at first felt a little guilty in letting her father return to the saltbox by himself, and subsequently cajoled Jennifer into asking him if he too wanted to stay. However, Jennifer secretly understood David’s wish to return to the haven of his own house every night, knowing that he was still in need of a private space. She therefore immediately accepted his somewhat lame excuses that it would be less disruptive for Dodie, and that he was also half-expecting a fax to come in from his office in Scotland.

  This distancing allowed David the perspective of standing back and observing his children as they blended, as smoothly as synchromesh, into the way of life of this household—a way of life that had been so much a part of his own over the past six weeks. Charlie and Benji had become an inseparable and independent unit, spending most of their time on the tennis court or out on the bay with the Windsurfer, taking it in turns to man the rowing-boat and yell encouragement to the other as he wobbled his way across the shallows. Harriet, meanwhile, appeared content to be anywhere in the vicinity of Jasmine, always being the first to run back into the house to seek her out if she had been away with the others for any length of time.

  But what gave David the most satisfaction was the bond that was forming between Sophie and Jennifer. At first, he’d had fears that there would be a cool reserve on Sophie’s part, especially as she might see Jennifer only as the person who had disrupted her birthday party. But he had not counted on Jennifer’s intuition in understanding this for herself, and on that very same night when she had returned from David’s house, she had gone up to Sophie’s bedroom and had sat on her bed until well after midnight, simply talking to her and making plans for their forthcoming weekend in the city.

  What was more, in seeing for the first time this woman, who happened to be no part of his family, so closely involved with one of his own children, he became almost imperceptibly aware of his mind creating a direct link between her and Rachel, and instead of banishing it as an invasive and unwelcome thought, he found himself quite at ease not only in accepting it, but also in being able to admit to himself just how important a role Jennifer had begun to play in his life.

  Seeing that the promised continuation of Sophie’s birthday party had not taken place on the Tuesday, David decided that, on the eve of Jennifer’s and Sophie’s departure to the city, he would take everyone, including the original guests, out to dinner in the Leesport Restaurant. As they were to number thirteen at the table, and not wishing to tempt providence, he also invited In-Deli-ble Billy (as the children had now christened him), having noticed that, during their countless visits to the deli, Billy had come to direct his wicked and teasing remarks to Sophie, and she in turn had reacted to them with a sparkle in her eyes and a flush to her cheeks.

  As it turned out, the party was a wild affair, with all protocol regarding age and status being summarily discarded from the moment it began. Gerry had brought along with him two guitars, one of which he handed over to David at the end of the meal, much to the embarrassment of the children, and thereafter those who were willing stood up to do a party piece.

  Of course, Benji was first to take up the challenge. He launched into his own song, then interjected it throughout with excuses about how it sounded much better when Dublin Up were playing with him. Then, amidst shrill protests from Sophie, Billy dragged her up from the table to perform a duet with “You’re the One That I Want,” and although it appeared at the outset to be a strong contender for The Best Entertainment Award, Billy became somewhat over-suggestive in his Travolta dance routine, and the act came to an abrupt end with Sophie running from the room with an embarrassed scream of “That’s absolutely revooolting!”

  David and Gerry were next to perform, singing a merry little tune which turned out to be slightly bawdy in content, earning them some stern looks of disapproval from Jasmine.

  The finale, of course, was the best, coming as the direct result of a request from David. With loud yelps of encouragement
from the assembled throng, Clive and Peter were pushed self-consciously to their feet, and after a few furtive whispers to each other in deciding which way they should initially face, they set about performing, in perfect sychronization of both voice and foot, their well-polished rendition of “Wouldn’t It Be Lovely.”

  The next morning, David was up at Barker Lane at half past eight, eager to make sure that Sophie had everything she needed for her trip. However, he found himself more of a hindrance than a help, the two city-bounders already seeming to have everything in hand, so much so that Jennifer had told Sophie only to pack her night-things, seeing that the main reason they were going to the city was to shop! Feeling slightly embarrassed by this, David managed to catch Jennifer for a fleeting moment by herself, and stuttered his way around the subject of money. Jennifer, however, stopped him mid-sentence by simply reaching up and placing the tip of her forefinger on his mouth. Then, walking away from him, she began to reel off a string of expenditures, relating to the garden and to Benji, which he himself had incurred without reimbursement. Thereafter, David felt it best not to make another approach, but eased his conscience instead by slipping one hundred dollars into Sophie’s purse.

  At nine on the dot, the two girls (as Jasmine had begun to call them) were sitting champing at the bit in the BMW. Sophie gave an excited wave first to David and Jasmine and then to the three very tired-looking faces who peered out of an upstairs window, before turning round and pointing her finger a la “Wagons Roll!” up the drive. With a flick of her hand in a final gesture of farewell, Jennifer powered the car away from the house.

  Exactly two hours later, they arrived in the West Village, and having parked the car in a space in Barrymore Street and deposited overnight bags in the apartment, they walked the short distance to Spring Street. There, Sophie spent the rest of her morning in a bemused trance, as Jennifer led her up from one shop to another. All the names that she had heard of, and had talked about with her friends at school, were there. Agnes B, Replay, Guess, and they went into every one and bought something for her, and for her alone.

  They then took a taxi uptown and ate a late lunch in a restaurant on Madison Avenue. At the end of the meal, Jennifer ordered coffee for two, and being for the first time in the relaxed privacy of their own company, she broached the subject of Rachel. With almost a frightened reticence to begin with, Sophie suddenly found herself being able to open up to this woman whom she had come both to like and trust over the past week.

  Having been allowed to leave their shopping bags at the restaurant, they took a taxi to Central Park. There the conversation continued as they walked side by side along the path by the lake, Sophie’s arm linked through Jennifer’s, only stepping away from each other to allow for the occasional erratic Rollerblader or single-minded jogger to pass unhindered. The more they talked, the more admiration and love Jennifer felt for this young girl at her side, realizing that she herself had never experienced such devastating loss and emotional upheaval in her own life.

  When they eventually left the park, Jennifer decided that there was not enough time to go back to the apartment before the show. Consequently, they took a taxi straight to Broadway, stopping off to collect their bags on the way. Then, having ensconced themselves in a welcoming pub called the White Lion, they sat drinking Coke and eating chips, while studying the faces of the people who entered and, giggling uncontrollably, comparing their looks with well-known people.

  They walked the remaining distance to the Shubert Theatre, arriving ten minutes before the curtain of Crazy for You went up. Having entrusted their shopping bags to the little lady who ran the cloakroom, and having stocked up with programmes, they entered the auditorium and sat down in their plush velvet seats just as the overture began.

  To Sophie, it was the most magical thing that she had ever seen. She sat transfixed throughout the performance, listening intently to every song and humming the melody over to herself after each was finished, desperate to remember everything that took place during the performance. The man in front of her seemed to be the tallest person in the audience, but she didn’t mind, because it meant that she could lean over to the side in order to look around him and, without excuse or self-consciousness, feel the warming comfort of physical contact with Jennifer as she did so.

  After the show had finished, they stood on the sidewalk outside the theatre, feeling the sultry heat of the evening blow about their faces and, deciding not to take a taxi, they turned and walked off in the direction of the West Village, swinging their shopping bags to and fro as they jumbled through the words of the songs together.

  By the time that they reached Twenty-first Street, their hands ached so much from carrying their bags that they succumbed to the lure of the taxi, and within a few minutes were deposited back outside the apartment in Barrymore Street. Jennifer unlocked the door and flicked on a light switch, then, dumping everything on the hall floor, she walked through to the sitting-room and sat down with a sigh of exhaustion in an armchair.

  “So,” she said, looking at Sophie, “what shall we do now?”

  Sophie shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t it a bit late to start doing something now?”

  Jennifer glanced at her watch. “Heavens, it’s ten to twelve! I’d no idea it was so late! Maybe you’re right. Do you just want to go to bed?”

  Sophie wrinkled up her nose in disapproval of the motion. “Not particularly. I’m pretty hungry, though!”

  Jennifer slapped her hands on the arms of the chair and jumped to her feet. “Yup, so am I! So what do you want? Do you like pizza?”

  “Do I not!”

  “Great! Me too! So tell you what we’ll do, I’ll phone for the best pepperoni pizza that money can buy, and while we’re waiting for it to be delivered, we’ll get into our night-clothes and you can pick out a video for us to watch. Then we’ll just curl up on the sofa and pig out on pizza! How’s that for an idea?”

  Sophie nodded slowly, a contented grin on her face. “I would say that it couldn’t be better!”

  Five minutes later, having changed into her nightdress, Jennifer padded into the sitting-room in her bare feet and vaulted over the back of the sofa to sit beside Sophie. The video had already started, the opening credits being accompanied by some seriously eerie music. Jennifer turned slowly to her young companion, a look of complete shock on her face. “Sophie, what on earth are we watching?”

  Sophie smiled at her. “The Amityville Horror.”

  Jennifer’s mouth dropped open. “Oh, Sophie, do we really want to watch this? Is there nothing a bit tamer?”

  Sophie laughed. “Come on, Jennifer, it’s only a film! Anyway, I thought we’d had enough sugary sweetness for one night. Time for a bit of nerve-tingling spice!”

  Jennifer shook her head slowly. “Ooh, you evil girl!” She grabbed hold of Sophie’s hand and squeezed it. “Okay, but if you’re going to make me suffer this, I’m holding on to you good and tight. I just loathe horror films!”

  Sophie let out a wicked chuckle and, pulling Jennifer’s arm across her shoulder, tucked herself in against her.

  Although they both heard it simultaneously, the noise at the front door was more like a soft scratching than a knock.

  “Pizza time!” Jennifer exclaimed, jumping to her feet. “Last one there has to eat the box!”

  They both ran for the door, and Sophie, having had more recent practice in the art of outwitting her siblings, sneaked under Jennifer’s arm and made it there first. She threw it open, making the bunch of keys that hung in the lock jangle against the metal of the door handle. A couple stood in the corridor, locked together in a deep embrace, being so enwrapped in each other that it took all of two seconds before either of them realized that the door had been opened.

  Sophie looked quizzically at them, thinking that neither looked very much like pizza-delivery people, then turned round to Jennifer. She stood behind her, stock-still, a look of sheer horror on her now ashened face, her mouth twitching as if she was
trying to say something. Then, in the quietest voice she spoke, her tone registering both total disbelief and unbearable hurt.

  “Oh, Alex, no!”

  Chapter THIRTY-TWO

  Throughout the day on Saturday, there had been more than a few disgruntled moans from Benji and Charlie about not being included in the trip to the city, so, in order to take their minds off the unfairness of it all and to add some variety to their escapades, it was arranged for them to spend the Sunday with Sean Dalaglio. Jasmine, meanwhile, said that she wanted to take Harriet to visit her mother in North Leesport, so, David found himself to be a free agent for the first time in over two weeks.

  Having allowed himself a lie-in until nine o’clock, he took Dodie for a short walk down to the marina, before setting about tidying up the house and ridding it of the clutter of camp-beds and sleeping-bags. He had taken everything outside to put into the Volkswagen, when he found himself consumed with guilt over the state of the car’s interior, a week and a half’s worth of ferrying children around having left it in a worse condition than when he had taken it over from Carrie. Therefore, having stretched the cable of the vacuum cleaner to its full length from house to car, he proceeded in sucking out a dust-bag’s worth of sand and old candy wrappers, all which seemed to have worked their way into the most inaccessible crevices of the plastic upholstery.

  As the electronic bells of the little Roman Catholic church on Champner Street began to summon the congregation to eleven-o’clock mass, he made his way to the bottom of the garden, a can of Pepsi in hand, and descended the steps to the jetty. He flicked off his deck shoes and sat dangling his feet over the edge as he watched a windsurfer skim his way across the bay about three hundred yards offshore.

  God, this place really was perfect. He smiled to himself, realizing just how many times and on how many different occasions he’d said that over the past six weeks. But it was true. Never, for one minute, had it lost the special magic that he had felt that first morning when he had walked down to the marina and looked out across the bay. And now, on top of that, it had succeeded in casting its healing spell, not only over him, but over his whole family. But it wasn’t just the place—it was the people as well. Everyone had played a part in his revitalization and in his own children’s readjustment to family life, something which was going to make it so much easier for them all when they returned to Scotland.