The Catalyst (18 page)

Edward had now learnt to keep quiet about his concerns when he was working with Sunny. It was not his place to interfere he told himself repeatedly. He had done his best to warn her and failed. It was up to Sunny to live her life as she wanted, whatever it brought her and he just had to trust, to hope, everything would turn out all right.

He had been resolutely trying to distance himself from her although this did not appear to have mattered to Sunny. She seemed oblivious of his unspoken withdrawal from her life outside of work. As for himself, he had begun to feel that his life was beyond redemption and he no longer had the energy or will to make anything more of it than it already was.

The long-expected break in the weather spoke of changes to life around the Bay. After the initial heavy downpour the rain continued to fall steadily, settling the last of the late summer dust and despite their rapid transit over the land there seemed to be no end to the rain-laden clouds.

Now, as the darkness closed in early, the people of the peninsula, as if of one mind, decided it was time to draw the curtains on their last minute summer, to turn away from the outside world and learn again to do the indoor things of winter.

Matty Tregoning drowsed in front of the fire in his lodgings at Tom Batten’s cottage as the evening darkness drew in. He had resigned himself to the end of his fishing season and had tried working out his weekly income for the winter on the back of an envelope. He wondered if he would be able to apply for some sort of state benefits if he needed to but the thought of filling in forms had decided him against that.

Perhaps they would want someone to help occasionally behind the bar in ‘The Red Sail’? That way he could still have a social life and earn a little cash at the same time. It seemed like the ideal solution.

Jenny and Jasper lit fires in all the fire grates at the farm, even the little cast iron ones in their bedrooms, and every available heater had been turned on to air the rooms until the house seemed to have absorbed all the heat it could. It wasn’t particularly cold outside in spite of the rain but inside it seemed the chill of ages had returned whilst they had been away and they were also aware of a vague mausoleic smell that pervaded the place. Neither of them mentioned it, determined instead to melt it away with as much cheerful warmth as possible.

Jasper enjoyed the farm most when it was lit by firelight and he and Jenny chatted amiably enough as they busily made it comfortable again but for Jasper the old bond between them was strained tonight. He could feel her trying to damp down her excitement in front of him by making the sort of irritating small talk she usually never bothered with.

It did not convince him, tomorrow, he knew, she would leave him and the farm. Until then they were just marking time. Neither of them spoke about her leaving, they just both knew it would happen.

Edward Hervey stayed late at his bookshop this Saturday evening and drove home through the gusty showers, despair in his heart at the thought of another long winter alone. Calling at the supermarket he shopped for food without creativity or enthusiasm, filling his basket listlessly with the sliced bread and tins of soup he usually scorned, moving amongst the shelves in a dream of absent-mindedness. He wondered if he could survive another winter, wondered why he should even try.

Jimmy Fisher stood in the open doorway of his studio watching as dusk and the rain fell, waiting impatiently for Sunny to come back to him. She had gone to her cottage after work to check all was well and he pondered pleasantly on the subject of her. At this moment life seemed so simple. He loved her, she loved him so it was only right they should live in domestic bliss together. His mind had already relegated Jenny to his past life. Jenny was from the time of LBS ... Life before Sunny.

Jenny’s employer had told him she was in London but Jimmy hadn’t given much thought as to why she was there or even how she had got there. These things were quite irrelevant to him now; she was quite irrelevant to him now. When she returned from London he would simply go and see her wherever it was she was staying, presumably with friends, and take her stuff to her. They would sort it out between them and that way he would avoid having her to come anywhere near the farm.

He would even help her find some other accommodation if she needed help, he thought magnanimously. He could see no problem with these arrangements. It would all happen when Sunny was at work so she wouldn’t even know he had gone anywhere. Then if Jenny went berserk, as he suspected she would, he would handle it. He had done it before, he could do it again.

Despite his preoccupation with these thoughts he gradually became aware of the pattern the light from the studio made as it spilled out of the door and onto the wet farmyard. Noticing the cracks in the concrete formed a pleasing pattern his thoughts returned to his work and he wondered if he should perhaps move towards complete abstraction.

His mind began to race as it filled pleasantly with ideas. It had been a good day, a productive day, he felt. He had prepared new canvases and sketched some preliminary ideas for a new painting. Yes, he thought with sudden excitement, it has all gone very well today.

First thing that morning, after Sunny had left for work, he had hung his painting of her in the kitchen, right where everyone would see it when they first walked in. He had completely cleared the wall of all the other paintings so ‘Dancer’ could dominate the room.

Now the afterglow he got after a full day of successful work enveloped him and he felt a comfortable expansiveness. Soon Sunny would appear and he would watch her drive up the track, then he would wrap his arms around her almost before she could get out of her car.

He closed his eyes, anticipating the wonderful smell of her, the aliveness of her body held against him and he felt the heat rise in him at the thought of her. He intended tonight to be very special. Tonight he would ask her to marry him. He pictured himself asking her after they had made love in front of the fire just like the first time.

Sunny meanwhile had left work in her usual hurry, picking up a few things from her cottage as she gave it a cursory look over before heading back to Jimmy’s. She smiled to herself at the now-familiar excitement rising in her as she got nearer to the farm. Everything was just getting better and better, she thought. Even work was good, in a way.

Edward had allowed her to implement a few of her ideas and she knew even he could see the impact that these had made on the shop takings but he had said nothing to her about the fact and she had tried not to be hurt by his apparent lack of appreciation at her efforts. Regrettably, Edward had again become the only block to her complete enjoyment of her time in the shop.

She had been frustrated at first by his obvious stepping back into his more formal role as her employer and was disappointed by his unwillingness to communicate with her on any level other than that connected with work. She had become very fond of him and she wished they could have kept the previous easy-going nature of their working relationship.

Now she was certain that could never happen whilst she was involved with Jimmy. She knew Edward would have liked her to give him up but she simply could not do that, her feelings for Jimmy ran too deep. Love was a fearsome drug to get clean from and she really couldn’t see her life without Jimmy in it. And after all, this i
s
m
y
relationship, she thought with a touch of exasperation, it has nothing to do with Edward ... or it should have nothing to do with him anyway.

Even so she could never quite hide from herself the fact that she knew why Edward feared for this relationship. Edward knew Jimmy Fisher and his history and she had to be honest and admit she didn’t. She just had to take everything on trust. So she tried to content herself with trying to work with Edward within the boundaries he had set.

Now it was the end of the working week and she was desperate to get back to Jimmy and the farm, envisaging a snug Sunday morning watching the rainclouds tumble across the bay as they cuddled up in bed.

As usual when she thought of Jimmy her thoughts inevitably turned to their physical intimacy. She tried not to see the pictures in her head as they distracted her from driving and the rain seemed to have become much heavier as the night fell. The wind too didn’t help, blowing in strong, fitful gusts that rocked the car, catching it with their full force as she passed the open field gateways on the headland before regaining the shelter of the high hedgerows.

It was with a feeling of relief that she turned her car into the narrow lane leading to the farm and headed towards its welcoming glow. Watching from the other end of the track Jimmy saw the headlights and rushed to meet her with an umbrella as she pulled up in the yard.

‘There you are! Would you believe it, we’ve had a power cut! Bloody typical! A little bit of a blow and pouf ... no electric!’ He grinned at her as he helped her out of the car and holding the struggling umbrella aloft with one hand he pulled her tight against him with the other, inhaling the scent of her and almost lifting her off her feet.

He had been right, she felt and smelt exactly as he imagined she would. He laughed with delight and with a swift kiss on the top of her head he kicked the car door shut with his foot and dragged her off towards the kitchen. They stepped out of the wildness of the night into the warm kitchen as Jimmy, pretending to wrestle with the umbrella as he folded it, deliberately held it up in front of her to obscure her view.

The kitchen was lit with candles, candles everywhere, even on the draining board and she laughed as she saw them. Only when the umbrella had been propped next to the door to drip did Sunny become aware of the painting of herself, taking centre stage on the wall opposite the door. She felt a little jolt of shock when she saw it, and it was not just the shock of recognition.

Jimmy had lit it with two large church candles in tall candlesticks, one on either side. The whole effect was one of reverence as though honouring a religious icon and it made her feel a little uneasy, it looked almost like a shrine. She wanted to tell him the painting looked stunning but she felt some confusion and fumbled for the right words, after all it was a picture of herself. It seemed somehow conceited to keep saying how wonderful it was.

She wondered too if she should say something about how he had presented it, about the ‘worshipful’ feel, but a swift glance at him told her it was extremely unlikely he had had any such intentions. In his enthusiasm he had just plonked the candles there to light it properly and had liked the symmetry of a candle on either side.

Relieved by this insight, she found she could ignore his unintentional idolatry and give herself up to enjoying his pride in his gift. Now, as she watched him staring up at it engrossed, she knew he was analysing it, speculating on whether he could have done it better but no outsider would ever suspect this was just some sad-eyed widow to whom he had given the grace and poise of a dancer.

The more she looked at it the more it seemed to be so much more than just a painting of herself until suddenly the connection was gone and it was simply a painting of a dancer, no longer anything to do with her. Now a little video played in her head and she could clearly imagine its spare grey lines and delicate pink wash on a plain, white wall in some large and expensive minimalist interior.

She wanted to tell Jimmy of her vision but she hesitated, feeling she was very ignorant about what was considered good art. It was certainly true the painting moved her but was ‘Dancer’ really something special? And what was it to Jimmy? Was it was just another run of the mill sort of painting for him, or was it something more?

Even now, despite his rapt expression, she kept silent for fear of his ridicule. Jimmy had never let loose that particular talent of his on her yet but she had seen it in action and she didn’t want to take the chance that sometime he might just forget himself and use it on her.

It had been unnecessary to speak anyway, Jimmy had had his answer in her expression and he now hid his gratified smile under the bustle of getting her jacket off her and making her sit down with a glass of wine. He was utterly determined tonight was going to be a special night. After all, he was Jimmy Fisher and this evening, after having escaped the net of marriage for so long, he was about to walk willingly into the trap and surrender his freedom to screw around forever.

He had even cooked something still identifiably edible as a prelude to his life-changing question. In his eagerness he topped Sunny’s glass up again even though she had only taken a sip out of it and she was very much aware of his air of only-just-bottled-up excitement. The wide smile he was unable to switch off told her something was very much afoot and although she was unable to stop herself smiling back at him, she wondered what surprise he was about to spring on her ... and whether she would like it.

He ambled about the kitchen apparently concentrating on preparing food and she got up to help him. They had got into a habit of making their evening meal together but tonight he had started to make it before she came home and now there was nothing for her to do.

He pushed her gently back onto the sofa in front of the Aga, weighting her down with Brutus to make sure she didn’t move. The cat was an effective anchor, purring ecstatically as she curled her arm around him so he could lean back against it and blink up at her. As the cat relaxed against her she too relaxed, allowing her body to mould itself into the softness of the old feather cushions.