More to Life Than This

by Carole Matthews

  Kate huffed in an unconvinced way that was meant to convey that it didn’t matter whether it helped or not. But it did.

  ‘Take care,’ Sonia said, kissing her cheek. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday, perhaps. Ring me the minute you get home.’

  ‘I will,’ she promised. ‘See you.’

  Sonia lowered her voice. ‘Say goodbye to Sam for me.’ Kate gave her a warning look. ‘I will.’

  She nudged her friend theatrically. ‘Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.’

  Kate sighed. ‘I don’t think my imagination stretches that far.’

  ‘No, but someone else’s might,’ she said.

  Sonia slid into the car next to Tim, waving excitedly as she fastened her seat belt and Kate shut the door behind her. She clearly couldn’t wait to get home, even on the pretext of ailing offspring. If only I could feel the same! Instead, Kate was dreading the moment when the course ended and she had to return to her home in the land of twee and her neatly ironed tea towels.

  She watched her friend drive away from the priory, waving until the car turned out of sight. There was a lump in her throat, but she felt a mixture of relief, elation—and terror. For the first time in years she was completely alone and answerable to no one. No husband, no children, no best friend. She was free to do whatever she wanted. Kate let her hand fall to her side. If only she knew exactly what that was.

  chapter 31

  ‘T’ai Chi is all about mind intent,’ Sam said.

  Kate’s mind was intent on anything but T’ai Chi. And, for once, she couldn’t pretend it was because of Sonia’s constant babble.

  Her thoughts were wandering all over the place, following the birds, listening to the rustle of the leaves on the trees. There was something wonderful about this time of year, the full flourish of beauty that nature had promised in spring before the colourful fading of autumn and the stark death of winter.

  They were on the croquet lawn and she was holding a stick—a broom handle to be precise. It was to represent the wood element and it was supposed to be a spiritual experience. She was holding the broom in the air pointing at the woods, far in the distance, beyond the grazing sheep, beyond the dual carriageway, beyond the point where sharpness of vision gave way to indistinct sun-kissed haze. She felt very silly and it was making her arms ache.

  ‘We want to focus the wood energy from inside us to the wood energy of the trees on the ridge,’ her instructor continued. ‘Use your mind intent to visualise your Chi flowing along the stick, reaching out to the trees and beyond to connect with the universe.’

  The universe. It was a larger concept than she was ready to confront on a Thursday morning. The course was getting harder, she was tired from all the exercise, emotional from all the soul-searching and hyper from the cha-cha-cha her heart insisted on doing for most of the day and a goodly part of the night. And she was missing home and not missing home both at once.

  ‘The wood element represents growth, being flexible, bending with the gentle movement of the wind.’

  Was she flexible? She wasn’t averse to drinking full-fat milk rather than skimmed if she was forced to. She regularly tried a different washing-up liquid in response to commercial pressure—lemon and lime, spring blossom, traditional soapy-smelling dark green stuff—they had all graced her windowsill at some point. And now she and Jeffrey were thinking of putting a wooden floor in the dining room. How flexible was that? But when it came to matters of the universe…

  ‘If we’re frightened of growth, we can become brittle and inflexible in both our hearts and our minds. Wooden.’

  Was that what happened to people over seventy? Did they all need to get out and wave their walking sticks at the trees? Is that where I’m heading?

  ‘By extending your focus out of yourself, you allow a deep internal stretch.’

  Sam’s soporific voice was making her eyes roll. All this standing around and doing nothing but concentrating was exhausting. Her mind was always busy, but it wasn’t used to lingering on one thing for anything more than a nanosecond.

  ‘Free your thinking,’ he commanded.’ Don’t be stuck. Let yourself move forward.’

  Kate dragged her concentration back to the broom handle. Now her shoulders were tensing up and she was gripping on to it for grim death. She took a deep breath and relaxed her grip and let her shoulders ease away from her ears.

  ‘Feel as if the wood is coming to life in your hands,’ Sam encouraged softly. ‘Imagine feelings of hope, new beginnings, starting afresh. From little acorns, mighty oaks grow.’

  This freeing of your thinking was all very well for people who didn’t have to worry about French exchange trips and school play rehearsals and making sure that netball/football kits were taken in on the ordained day and that music lessons were practised for.

  ‘Are you feeling alive, awake, like a tender young bud waiting to burst open in spring?’

  No, Sam, I’m not.

  And then it happened. Nothing much. It was barely discernible. There was a ripple along the stick. A shiver. As gentle as a butterfly brushing against her hand.

  Kate’s Chi started to panic. Breathe, breathe, breathe. She waited, feeling the anticipation wriggle in her belly. It happened again. There was a movement. Flowing through her fingers. Hardly there at all, but it was there nevertheless. And it terrified her so much that she dropped the stick.

  chapter 32

  The X-Men curtains were closed in the boys’ bedroom, blocking out the brilliant morning sun and plunging the room into an atmosphere of subdued gloom.

  Sonia tiptoed into the room. ‘Hello, darlings,’ she whispered. ‘You’ll be all right now, Mummy’s here to look after you.’

  Pitiful groanings came from the twin beds. She sat down on Daniel’ s bed and stroked his forehead. It was beaded with perspiration and his hair was matted to his head, soaking wet with sweat. His cheeks were flushed and feverishly hot and there were livid maroon spots covering his entire face. He was wearing sunglasses.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ she said sympathetically.

  ‘Poorly,’ he croaked. ‘Very poorly.’

  His matching X-Men duvet was tucked tightly round his chin and Bart Simpson’s head peeped out from beneath to nestle comfortingly against his neck.

  Sonia prised the duvet away from him and fished for his hand under the covers. It was burning hot. She felt his forehead again.

  ‘You’re burning up,’ she said. ‘I think you’re running a temperature. Mummy’s going to get the thermometer from the bathroom.’

  As she moved on the bed there was a sloshing sound. Sonia’s brow furrowed and she reached under the duvet, knocking Bart out of the way, rummaging around until she located the hot water bottle. She waved it in front of Daniel’s sunglasses. ‘A hot water bottle?’

  ‘I felt cold,’ he squeaked.

  She moved again and there was another rubbery slosh. ‘Two hot water bottles?’

  ‘Very cold.’

  She went over to check on Andrew, who was lying prostrate, arm above his head, murmuring incoherently. He too was feverish and burning. He too had two hot water bottles lodged against him in the bed.

  ‘I think we’ll have these curtains open,’ Sonia said, swishing X-Men across the window and letting the sun stream in, catching a flurry of scattering dust motes in its path. The boys groaned and writhed like vampires caught out at dawn. She smiled secretly to herself.

  Daniel clutched his duvet in panic as she pulled it down. ‘I want to have a closer look at these spots,’ she said firmly. His pyjamas were buttoned all the way up to his neck.

  Sonia started to undo the buttons.

  ‘No!’ He stopped her hand.

  ‘I want to see if they’re on the rest of your body.’

  ‘I don’t think they are,’ he said fearfully.

  In fact, they stopped very abruptly in a neat little line at the neck of his pyjama top.

  ‘This is dreadful.’ Sonia shook her head and stared closely at the liv
id marks on his cheeks.

  Daniel’ s face clouded with panic.

  She rubbed at one of the spots with her thumb. Lip liner. Elizabeth Arden. Paradise Plum. Her mouth set in a grim line. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a bad case.’

  Daniel tried to clutch at his sunglasses as she swiftly removed them. His eyes were circled with deep pink making them look red raw and swollen, as if he hadn’t slept for a fortnight. She recognised the signs instantly. Boots Number Seven. Coral Pink blusher. Applied too thickly. The whites stared back at her in terror.

  Tim came into the room behind her and slipped his arms round her waist. ‘how are they?’

  Sonia cuddled into him. ‘They are very, very sick children,’ she said solemnly.

  ‘No, we’re not,’ Daniel blurted.

  Tim shot him a warning look.

  Sonia smiled indulgently at him. ‘Mummy’s brave little soldier.’

  Tim nuzzled her neck. ’We’ve missed you.’

  ‘And I’ve missed you.’

  Her husband kissed her earlobe. ‘I’m glad you’re home.’

  ‘So am I,’ she said. ‘And just in the nick of time.’

  ‘What do you reckon to these two?’

  ‘I think they need a lot of tender loving care,’ she said sweetly.

  Both boys smiled weakly back at her.

  ‘They must rest in bed and do nothing until those terrible, terrible spots have gone completely.’

  Andrew grinned, whipped off his sunglasses and reached for his Game Boy.

  ‘That means being absolutely still with no stimulation of any kind until it’s time to go back to school on Monday.’

  Andrew put his Game Boy down sullenly. ‘But it’s only Thursday,’ he protested.

  ‘Then it will give you a lot of time to think,’ sonia answered.

  Daniel sat up, his face blanched with alarm. ‘What about The Simpsons?’

  ‘And no television until your eyes have fully recovered—you don’t want them square as well as red, do you?’

  They both stared at their father, troubled eyes pleading beneath the circles of Coral Pink blusher.

  Tim grimaced sympathetically. ‘I think we’d better leave you to rest,’ he said. ‘I’ll pop in and see if you’re feeling any better a little bit later.’

  Sonia saw him wink and give them a thumbs-up sign out of the corner of her eye. She hid the grin that twitched at her cheeks. She’d get them back for this, she thought. She wasn’t sure how and she wasn’t sure when, but it would be expensive.

  Sonia and Tim backed out of the room and closed the door.

  Tim pulled her to him. ‘I’ll check on them later,’ he said. ‘I expect they’ll get better a lot quicker now that you’re back.’

  Sonia lifted an eyebrow. ‘I shouldn’t be at all surprised.’

  ‘They’re good kids, you know.’

  ‘They take after their father.’

  He wound his arms tightly around her. ‘Are you glad you came home?’

  ‘Yes.’ She smiled. She was. She was sorry to have left Kate to fend for herself, especially when she seemed to be struggling so much to get to grips with this T’ai Chi palaver. sonia couldn’t see the attraction herself, it was all too quiet and sedate. Too much time to think and not enough action. On any front. Still, it had worked out well for her in the end, at least. There was nothing like a bit of abstinence to make the heart grow fonder.

  ‘And how are you feeling?’ His hand travelled down her back.

  ‘Fine.’ Sonia yawned.

  ‘I bet all that strenuous exercise has left you feeling very sleepy.’

  ‘Mmm,’ she agreed, snuggling against him.

  His hand stroked the nape of her neck. ‘Do you think you could do with some bed rest?’

  ‘It’s nearly lunchtime,’ she objected feebly.

  His mouth grazed along the line of her throat. ‘What better way to work up an appetite?’

  She giggled as, with a heartfelt groan, he lifted her into his arms, carried her to the bedroom and kicked the door shut.

  chapter 33

  There was an air of unrestrained desire between them now that Sonia had departed. Ben’s eyes lingered on Kate that bit longer, the looks held a touch more meaning, the loosening hip rotations at the start of each class had taken on a new dimension, and every time she bent over she was aware that her bottom was being closely watched.

  It was a long time since any of her body had been ogled and it was an empowering feeling. The rest of the class had receded to background scenery, hazy blurs against which she and Ben stood out in terrifyingly sharp relief.

  Guy was taking the class today with Sam hovering in the background. The poor chap had seemed immensely relieved when she told him that Sonia wouldn’t be continuing with the course, and who could blame him? It probably wasn’t every day that a woman hurled herself at him. Kate didn’t think T’ai Chi groupies were a recognised phenomenon.

  ‘Gather round,’ Guy said, marshalling them into a circle.

  She stood close to Ben, both of them with their arms hanging loose by their sides; even the nearness of him was electrifying and she could feel all the tiny hairs on the back of her neck tingling with excitement.

  ‘Sam and I are going to demonstrate Pushing Hands. This is a Chi sensitivity exercise and the purpose of it is to develop an awareness of what is happening in someone else’s body by tuning in to the subtle flow of their energy. We need to learn to move in stillness and be still in movement, if we are going to attune ourselves to the life force of another person’s vibrations.’

  Vibrations? So that’s what she was feeling.

  ‘In martial arts terms, this is how we would neutralise and deflect an unwanted approach in a relaxed and careful way, so that we don’t hurt ourselves.’ He and Sam stood facing each other to demonstrate, a few feet apart, the outside edge of their right hands resting gently together, just above the wrist. ‘circle your bodies slowly,’ Guy instructed, ‘keeping your hands in contact at all times. Move from the waist. Use the energy from the belly, the Tan-Tien, not the force of your arms. As one advances, the other yields.’ They moved slowly, rhythmically, in unison, their arms drawing invisible spheres in the air. ‘Feel what your partner is doing.’

  It was mesmerising to watch them, and momentarily distracted her attentions from Ben. When they stopped, they bowed to each other. ‘Now,’ Guy said. ‘Find yourself someone to work with and take it from there.’

  It was obvious that she and Ben would turn to each other.

  ‘May I have the pleasure of this dance?’ he said, breaking the tension.

  ‘You may,’ she replied glibly, listening to the loud thump that had already set up inside her. Would Ben be able to hear it? Probably from where he was standing.

  They took up the posture as Guy had shown them and Kate felt her heart falter for an instant as their hands touched. It was the lightest of contact, but for the effect it was having on her it might as well have been a full-on bear hug. Her breath leapt from her belly to high in her chest and doubled its speed. Relax, relax, relax! Breathe, breathe, breathe! Remember your antenatal classes! Ben’s breath appeared to be hideously normal; it was going in and out in all the right places and he didn’t seem to be going puce in the face as she felt she was.

  ‘Okay?’ he said.

  She nodded in response and they started to move together, gently, tentatively. Their eyes locked onto each other’s and she saw Ben swallow deeply as their bodies turned and swayed in slow, deliberate motion. Turning their hips to mirror each other’s image, they moved in a sensuous pattern like the faint ripple of movement in deep, deep water. She cleaved to him in her advance and yielded against the pressure of his body as he circled towards her, their hands and their eyes never breaking contact. Her breath sank to her belly and she could feel it rising and falling, settling, deepening, following the even symmetry of Ben’s calm, steady breath. As he exhaled, she drew him into her, feeling the ebb and flow of his
essence flood inside her. Her body was bathed inside with a golden light, suffused with a feeling of such peace and tranquillity that it made her want to weep with joy.

  Guy clapped his hands. No, don’t bring me back! Not yet! she pleaded silently. They stopped circling, but the motion carried on spiralling down within her. She let her hand fall to her side, but she knew that they were still connected by an unbroken cord of energy.

  ‘Let’s leave it there,’ Guy said. ‘Time and tea stop for no man. Discuss the feelings you experienced with your partner during the break.’

  Kate sank to the grass, singing inside, buzzing and alive as if she’d been scrubbed down with a bristle brush. Never before had she experienced anything like this. How could they have communicated so much without speaking? How could their inner thoughts, movements, the cadence of their breaths reach such unity? Conversely, how could she and Jeffrey talk so much and say so little?

  Since she had arrived here, their telephone conversations had been remote and mundane. Somewhere between the altar and number 20, Acacia Close, Jeffrey had turned into Monosyllabic Man and she had become One Line Woman, their exchanges mainly involving barked instructions regarding domestic minutiae. When had they last talked about anything that mattered? They hadn’t wanted deep and meaningful conversations when they were teenagers, they’d wanted to snog in dark spaces, like the understairs cupboard at her mother’s house. Then when the children had come along, there hadn’t been time. And now that there was the time, there wasn’t the inclination.

  When she had phoned home last night, Jeffrey had sounded terrible, as if he was suffering from the after-effects of a cold, and the children had been distracted by clearly riveting homework projects on the origins of teddy bears (Kerry) and dormant volcanoes (Joe). A mere five days away from home and already she felt as if she no longer existed for them. So long as there was a meal on the table and a car to ferry them around, anyone could fill her place.

  Ben lay on his stomach next to her. The vibrations between them were still palpable.