Fraser's Line (18 page)

‘Why is it that married women who have a family and have chosen to work think their needs take precedence over those of single women, who are currently jobless? I’ve already told you my plans can’t be altered, but you’re still assuming that I can easily change them and will do so for your benefit.’

‘I just thought that, maybe, after all the meals you’ve had at my house over the years, not to mention all the lifts home Michael has given you because you didn’t want to go on the bus in the evening, that maybe, just maybe, you might like to do something for me? But I can see I was wrong. Obviously your mind doesn’t work like that.’

‘Oh, so now I owe you this favour! Your good deeds are put in the balance and heavily outweigh mine -- on your scales, anyhow. Stop putting emotional pressures on me, Sarah. If I could have done it, I would have done so, without you having to plead your case. But I can’t do it tomorrow, and that’s the end of it.’

‘I don’t know how you can be so selfish. You know I’m trying my best to juggle the demands of family and business. I work so hard at keeping all the wheels running smoothly, and most of the time they do, but just this once, Joanna, through no fault of my own, the plans have gone pear-shaped, and, much as it pains me to say it, I do need you. Can you really live with your conscience if you ignore my cry for help?’

‘You sound more like mother every day. She was the expert in emotional blackmail. She’d be proud of you if she could hear you now.’

‘I can’t believe you just said that. I’ve never heard you speak like this before. You’re so hard, and so disloyal.’

‘Look, Sarah. It was your choice to have a husband, and a family, and run a business at the same time – not mine – I wasn’t consulted when you committed yourself up to the hilt – so it’s you that must take the strain of any repercussions, not me, and whatever you say, you aren’t going to make me feel guilty about it.’

‘So that’s it! You’re jealous! I know you’ve always envied my life with Michael, and my children – and you’ve been singularly unsuccessful in finding anything like that for yourself – so that’s why you won’t help me. Well, let me tell you something, Joanna, for your own good – you’ve got an awful lot of growing up to do before some man of Michael’s calibre would look at you! I know we’re extremely busy, but Michael and I understand one another, and we value what we have. I pity you – you can’t seem to find anyone like him.’

‘Is that really how you see your marriage? Well, I’ve got news for you, my oh so clever, older sister – you’re deluding yourself. If you think Michael’s happy with the life he has now, then believe you me, you have another think coming.’

‘I suppose you’ll tell me next that you know him better than I do.’

‘That’s certainly a possibility. What I do know is that you rarely consider his feelings. You treat him like some kind of useful appendage, a piece in your imperial jigsaw, someone you can control and use to fill in the missing blanks for you. He’s just there to provide the necessary ‘male role’ in your family model. When did you last see him as a living, breathing human being, with longings of his own that he dare not voice to you? When did you last think about his needs, give him some quality time, make him feel wanted for his own sake? You’ve reduced him to the role of fitting into and helping with your relentless schedules. When did you last have a really satisfying love-making session? I bet, when it comes to bed-time, you say grudgingly to him, ‘You need to get it all over in ten minutes, Michael, as we must get some sleep – we’ve a busy day ahead of us all tomorrow.’ What’s the poor devil supposed to do when his ten minutes is up? Turn over and pretend he’s not a hot-blooded male? You’re not being fair to him. He’s a deeply loving man who adores his children, but he’s never allowed to relax and enjoy them. It would serve you right if he looked elsewhere for someone who really values him.’

‘Have you finished, may I ask? I don’t know how you have the effrontery to speak to me like that. You know nothing about our marriage, nothing about Michael, and I won’t listen to any more of your nonsense.’

‘I know a lot more than you think.’

‘I haven’t time for this. This was supposed to be a quick phone call to my sister to ask if she’d have my children for just one day. I should have known better than to think that you would help me out in a crisis. I’ve no more time to waste.’

‘Sorry if you got rather more than you expected.’

‘I got rather less than I expected, and now I must try and think of another solution. I don’t know when you became so bitter, Joanna, but it’s a pretty unattractive trait. It’s no wonder you can’t keep boyfriends. As mother has said on more than one occasion, let me tell you, young lady, such talk will get you precisely nowhere.’

And with that Sarah slammed down the phone.

The children bounced up and down excitedly on the train seat, torn between looking out of the window to watch the changing scenes rush past and the desire to chatter away to their grandfather.

‘I’m going to Brighton!’ sang Kate.

‘I’m going on the pier!’ echoed George. ‘Grandpa, what’s a pier?’

‘Well, it’s…’ Fraser struggled with a concise definition that might be meaningful to a six-year old. How sad that the twins had never yet been taken to Brighton. Sarah and Michael, good parents though they were, had not succeeded in squeezing in a family day out down to the coast, so encumbered were they with their daily commitments.

Fraser was apprehensive at the thought of caring for the twins all day. When Sarah had asked him, he had wanted to refuse. It had been no problem when Edie was around – she knew exactly how to handle them, and he had simply carried out the role of chauffeur, bearer of bags, and willing supporter of whatever Edie thought they should do. Edie could cope with all the little upsets that inevitably occur with small children, so that tears soon dried up, cuts and grazes were efficiently dealt with, and all toilet needs supplied. All he had to do was enjoy their company, and he revelled in their childish innocence, and wide-eyed curiosity. He used to love it when they came to stay for the night – he’d watch Edie, able to communicate with them on their level, have fun with them and yet have them perfectly under control. She knew how to enter their world and share their enjoyment. And she was so sweet with them when she tucked them up in bed.

Now he was having them on his own which was, he felt, a very different kettle of fish and a responsibility he was frightened to take. But Sarah had been very persuasive.

‘Come on, Dad. You know they love your company. You wouldn’t find it any trouble if you took them out for the day somewhere. I know, why don’t you take them on a train? They rarely do that, and as you play trains with them they’d especially love to go on a real one with you. Then you’ll find the time will just fly by. Honestly, they’re old enough now to be sensible, and I’ll stress that they must do exactly what you tell them. They’ll love it – and so will you! Please say yes.’

Then Fraser had thought of the idea of taking them to Brighton. By the time they had got there, had some lunch, been to the pier, and perhaps walked on the beach, or promenade, it would be time to come back. They would get an enormous thrill from the train ride! And this would make his task of trying to keep them entertained very much easier. He began to warm to the idea. The early spring weather was bright, and crisp, and not too cold. He had agreed.

Now, as he looked at their sparkling eyes and eager faces, and heard their happy, excited voices, he found a healing balm spreading through him. All the discoveries of recent weeks had been hard to bear. The agony of his loss had been replaced by a bitter sense of betrayal. Above all, his astonishment at his own failure to realise what was going on had knocked his self confidence. What sort of a husband had he been that his wife needed to amuse herself outside the marriage? What sort of a man was he? Suddenly he did not know any more. He felt numb as blow after blow had rained down on him. One thing was certain -- there was nothing more that could hurt him now.

He brought his mind to bear on the present problem.

‘A pier,’ he explained, ‘is like a bridge, built from the sea shore over the sea – but it doesn’t end up anywhere – it suddenly stops. You can walk on it, and you see the sea under you, and then you come to the end of it.’

‘What happens when you get to the end?’ asked George. ‘Do you fall off, and go into the sea – splash! And then you drown!’

‘Really, George,’ said Kate. ‘Don’t be so silly! Of course you don’t drown. Do you Grandpa?’

‘I think,’ said Fraser, attempting to get the conversation back on to more cheerful lines, ‘we won’t have any more talk of drowning. When you get to the end there’s a rail where you stop, and look out over the sea, and then you turn round and come back. But there are all sorts of exciting things on the pier – lots of rides, and shops selling funny things, and food stalls …’

‘Oh,’ breathed George. ‘Magic! I’m hungry Grandpa. Will we have something to eat soon? I’m really, really dying of starvation!’

‘You seem determined to pass out by one means or another!’ teased Fraser. ‘If not by drowning, then by starvation! What we’ll do is, when we get to the station, we’ll walk down to the sea front, and then we’ll go on the pier, and I think we’ll find a nice café there, where we can have our lunch. Will that do?’

‘Fish and chips?’

‘Quite possibly, yes, fish and chips.’

‘Magic!’ George settled back in his seat, happiness radiating from his eyes.

‘What would you like, Kate?’

‘I’d like sausages and baked beans, please Grandpa.’

‘I’m sure that can be arranged.’

Fraser smiled. It wasn’t so hard, after all. He was finding them a delight, and he was enjoying the pleasure of sharing in their excitement. This was going better than he’d dared to hope.

They had walked down the hill from the station, the children each holding one of Fraser’s hands, skipping and hopping up and down, chattering non-stop – and suddenly they saw the sea! Reduced for a brief moment to a state of most unusual silence they stared, drinking in the sight and then the excitement mounted to fever pitch. They wanted to run, but Fraser explained that he wasn’t very good at that, and they must keep to the same pace, and on no account let go of his hand.

It occurred to Fraser that it was a new experience for the twins to have an adult’s undivided attention for a whole day, and they were revelling in it. Happiness radiated out of every pore and their anticipatory excitement was infectious. Fraser found that he, too, was looking forward to the adventures the day would bring and realised that he had not had that feeling for weeks. Since Edie’s death he had felt there was only pain ahead, and yet, because of all that had recently come to light, it was equally hurtful to look back, so that he now existed in a kind of limbo. He realised that he had clung far too long to the childish view that only good experiences lay ahead, ignoring the inescapable fact that all doughnuts had holes.

Which made for a happier life, he wondered – spending one’s days anxiously fearing that harsh events lay waiting round every corner, or basking in eternal sunshine until one day a bolt from the blue shatters your world, inflicting a searing pain? Looking at the children, happily confident that the endless day which stretched ahead would contain pure, untainted pleasure he longed for their innocence to last and prayed that no dark shadows would cross their path.

They reached the promenade. George stood transfixed at the sight of the waves breaking over the pebbles.

‘Grandpa! Can we run down to the sea? Oh please, Grandpa!’ George seemed to have forgotten how hungry he was.

‘Yes, please let us,’ begged Kate.

Holding each hand tightly Fraser lead them down across the pebbles to the water’s edge. Then he picked up a pebble and skimmed it over the water, the stone bouncing four times before it disappeared beneath the surface.

‘That’s magic! Let me do it!’ George tried, but with a marked lack of success. ‘How do you make it jump up and down on the water, Grandpa? Please show me!’

Fraser demonstrated to the excited boy how to hold the pebble and launch it into the water so that it skimmed the surface before sinking. The first ones George threw simply plopped and disappeared, but then suddenly he began to acquire the knack, and set to work, eagerly picking up pebble after pebble, with varying degrees of success.

Fraser decided it was time to move on.

‘Look, children – there’s the pier! See how it sticks right out over the sea! Come on, let’s go and find our lunch.’ But George was not to be deflected from the enjoyment of his newly acquired skill. Surprisingly, even the word ‘lunch’ failed to move him. He went on and on picking up pebbles and throwing them.

‘Come on, George!’ exhorted Kate, ‘you need to stop now, or there won’t be any pebbles left for other people to throw!’

George paid no heed. In her agitation Kate failed to notice an approaching wave, higher than its predecessors, breaking on the pebbles and rushing towards them. The water reached her before she realised and by the time she tried to step back it was too late.

‘Oh Grandpa! My shoes are all wet! And my socks too!’ She became distressed and began to cry.

‘Let’s take your socks off.’ This was just the sort of mishap Fraser had been dreading. What could he do? He didn’t have a towel. He removed the damp socks and tried to dab at the girl’s feet with his handkerchief. Then he put the wet trainers back on.