Roland checked that Ben had all his documents, then led both of them back to the reception area before shaking their hands again and saying goodbye. As they got back to street level, Marcie said that she guessed he’d given Ben a lot to think about, to which Ben agreed, then she suggested they find somewhere for a bite of lunch. Ben wondered if they could find a cafe doing an all-day breakfast, thinking that might settle the conflict between his residual fatigue and the jittery effect of all the coffee. Marcie thought they could find something suitable in one of the side streets nearby, saying she’d go along with his plan so long as they had a loo that she could use, as the coffee had obviously had its effect on her too.
They found a place that met all their needs easily, claiming a pair of seats in the window that they could squeeze into even though the place was busy with the lunchtime crowd of city centre workers. Once he’d confirmed Marcie’s order, Ben insisted that he would pay as he went to join the queue, reminding her that he still had her change from last night’s round of drinks anyway. The woman who took his order reassured him that the kitchen would get straight on with it, even though the team at the counter were busy fixing up other customers’ takeaway sandwiches.
When Ben got back to their seats, just with a Coke for himself and a sparkling water for Marcie for the time being, she excused herself, checking that he’d look after their bags while she was gone. Ben only had a moment to reflect on what Roland had said, and work out the much smaller issue of calculating if he’d paid back Marcie’s change from the bar last night, before she was back and asking how he really felt about meeting the solicitor.
“Erm, reassured, I guess, like I’m doing the right thing, and he seemed confident the Trust would pay,” Ben began by saying, adding, “Roland seems experienced.”
“Yes, I agree,” Marcie confirmed, “I sense there was a ‘but’ coming, though.”
“I don’t know,” Ben wavered, “It was just, well, about the money. I do okay as a tree surgeon. Did okay, rather. It’s more than a gardener gets, or a sawmill operator, I guess. I could retrain, maybe get certified as something like a crane operator, if safety at height counts there too. But it seems like finding a job, you know, that pays the salary I’m on now, it may take a long time, or maybe I’ll never get there.”
Marcie took his hand, raising her other to his face to stroke his cheek and encourage him to look her in the eye. “No one knows what the future holds, Ben,” she said earnestly, “Maybe it will be a long haul to study and find new skills. I know all about that, five years and counting into my PhD. On the other hand, maybe this is the start of a new chapter, and something is just around the corner. You might be the estate manager at Cragside in two years’ time, with a salary to match. Or maybe you will settle into being a gardener, with a bit less coming in but still enjoying working outside with growing things and all that. But I think you said you’d felt a fair wind, maybe an angelic force, lifting us both into a positive future, together. Can you take comfort from that, despite the uncertainty?”
“Well, that’s kind of just it,” Ben tried to explain, getting to the root of his anxiety as he dropped his eyes again, “Being together, it means sharing everything, doesn’t it? It means we’ll end up linking our finances, deliberately or not. And I’m saying, despite the payout Roland mentioned, my financial prospects aren’t great.”
“Oh Ben, you’re so thoughtful,” Marcie said, gripping his hand as she lifted his chin to smile with warmth and care into his eyes, “But it’s okay. I’d not got that far myself, but you are so right,” she went on, gripping his hand in both hers, jigging them about as she looked down herself now, “Money can be such a sticking point for couples. It’s much better to talk about it, and keep talking about it, to be deliberate, just as you said, in our decisions about who pays for what, when, and about how much they spend. That doesn’t mean we share everything, or even set up a joint account. But if we’re a strong couple, and if we want to stay that way, we recognise we’re in the same lifeboat, in the same hot air balloon. We float or sink together. We don’t just stand by if one of us starts slipping down, and we don’t decide to let all the air out, waste all the gas, whatever, just because we feel like it, when we know the other, or both of us, might need it later.”
“Thank you,” Ben said soulfully, staring down at their hands again too. he added, “I just didn’t want you to feel locked in, that you’d hitched yourself to a dud, when I couldn’t be sure of money coming in.”
“Hey, look at me,” Marcie said sternly, “I love you, Ben. You’ve told me that you love me. We’ve agreed that we’re a proper couple. That means we share, and we help each other when we need to. We’ve not made any vows, ‘for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health.’ But that’s already what we’re doing, isn’t it? I’ll be there at your bedside when your eager and virile, and I’ll also be there, Heaven forbid, if you’re ever in hospital again. So if you are still in, you can be sure I’m in too, and I’ll help, when you’re earning pots of money just as when you’re not.”
“Thank you, again,” Ben said apologetically, “I do love you, Marcie, truly. We are making ourselves into a proper couple, you’re right. We’ve said that, with witnesses, and what we did yesterday, twice, that really helps, like it cements our bond, joining us in union, making us one.”
Ben paused as he’d seen the woman who’d taken his order weaving through the cafe with two plates of food and had caught her eye. She reached their window bench-table, with a smile and an apology for the delay, putting the bacon and egg half-stottie down in front of Marci and the full English in front of Ben. She told him that his came with a mug of tea or filter coffee. Ben was happy to have the tea as well as his Coke, offering to come to the counter to get it, but she reassured him that she’d bring it over.
As they both eagerly tucked in, he went on with what he’d planned to say, “I want to be responsible with you, to share responsibility for what we spend. It could be uncertain for a few months yet, for me, but I’ll pay attention, I’ll share, and we can keep talking, like you said.”
“Good,” Marcie said with satisfaction as she attacked her oversized sandwich, going on to suggest, “We can link this up with the other admin stuff as we slowly work through it together. Now it sounds like we’ve agreed that we’re still sticking to this, so maybe over the next month or so you’ll be wrapping things up with your flat. And as you close down accounts with the utilities companies, merge your address to mine for council tax, maybe update your address for credit cards and so on, we can check what’s left that you’ve got going out.”
“Aye,” Ben agreed, “Then I’ll see what’s still coming in, to compare to your ins and outs, so to speak.”
Marcie smiled, saying, “That’s exactly what I was going to say, but maybe without squeezing in any saucy double entendres. So we decide then what our shared and personal budgets are, if you want to take over with paying some of the bills. Or maybe we’ll just agree to transfer the difference to the other’s account each month. Alternatively, we could set up a joint pot alongside our own current accounts that we both pay into, then use that for food and shared fun things like our meals out. Would a bank let us do that, do you know?”
“I don’t,” Ben admitted, pausing as he thanked the cafe proprietress for bringing his tea over, “But maybe we’d use a joint credit card, then pay it off each month.” They both chewed thoughtfully for a moment, then he added, “Erm, I admit, I didn’t do this properly before.”
“How do you mean?” Marcie asked, with mock suspicion as she arched one dark eyebrow with a smirk.
“I was thinking of Phoebe, do you remember me mentioning her?” Ben began tentatively, “We didn’t talk about money really, and I was spending a lot, we both were, I guess, going out and all that. She’d end up paying for things, like when I was short. I’d pay her back, or try to, but it sparked arguments too, and I wound up with bigger debts. I don’t want that again.”
“But you were both much younger then, right?” Marcie said, chewing thoughtfully.
“Aye, when we started. And it finished, what, three and a bit years ago? And to be honest, last week seems a lifetime ago. It feels like I was just a boy, with Phoebe I mean, playing at being a grown-up. I feel different now, with you, Marcie, like I’ve learnt what’s important, like I’m stronger with you.”
“Well I hope we can still play too,” Marcie said, with a slightly concerned look in her eyes.
“Aye, I think we’re doing okay at that,” Ben laughed quietly, “Despite the car crash that’s been thrown at us. We’ve found games to play with Roddie and Vixen, and you’ve let me into your private magical kingdom.”
“Shush, Ben, don’t talk about that here!” she said in an urgent low voice, slapping his hand with the back of hers as she seemed to blush a little.
“I was talking about Narnia, children’s books! What’s wrong with that?” he teased.
That mention of Ben’s reading reminded Marcie that she’d encouraged him to join the public library, and she pointed out that this was the ideal opportunity to do that. They were not far from the central City Library building, and he already had some identifying paperwork with him. Also, though they’d finished their meal now, and agreed that they both felt fortified and restored by it, they agreed too that it seemed sensible to give their stomachs some time to digest before they hit the gym. So once Ben had visited the toilet for himself, they left the cafe, Marcie making sure that Ben had his folder of important documents safe in his gym bag, then made the short walk under the overcast spring sky to the library’s landmark concrete building.
Ben knew it vaguely, but Marcie seemed more confident of finding her way around, as she was clearly a regular visitor, despite having a whole library of her own in some senses, in her job and at home. As they went through the doors and made straight for the desk, she remarked that some people found the stark sixties concrete architecture ugly, but she admired its utilitarian and modernist sense of presence. Once they got someone’s attention, she let Ben take charge as he explained that he was here to join, confirming that he had photo ID and proof of his Newcastle residency. As the librarian took his details, he said a little shyly that his personal arrangements had actually just recently changed. The librarian seemed a polite and patient man, who did not mind taking down the details of Marcie’s flat as Ben’s new address at all. However, he did warn Ben that it wouldn’t affect any other local authority records, so he would need to contact the city council separately about updating his address for council tax especially.
Once the librarian had given Ben his newly printed membership card, the man asked if he’d like to know how to use the catalogue or if he wanted any other information about the library services, but Marcie confirmed that she could help with that. As if to demonstrate this, once they’d thanked the man, she took Ben straight to a computer terminal, suggesting they look for that BBC recording of The Lord of the Rings that she’d mentioned. Ben saw how she found it and confirmed that it wasn’t on loan, but then she noticed that it was only available on request, so she went back to the desk to ask about it herself. It turned out that it was available, and for just the same charge as any other audiobook, but as it came in a special box with so many CDs in it, the library staff didn’t want it out on the shelves.
While they waited for the librarian, who’d stepped away to find the box set in the staff area that was evidently used for all their valuable media discs, Ben browsed a display that was promoting study skills, then idly picked up something with an abstract flower design on the cover. He saw it was titled The Mind Map Book, then as he riffled the pages, it fell open at an intriguing sketch of what seemed to be an apple tree with words written into it. Ben asked Marcie if he could borrow the book too, and she scoffed at him a little for asking her permission, saying that he could borrow whatever he wanted to, now that he’d joined the library.
Ben tried to defend himself, saying he’d only asked because he thought Marcie might have known about the book or what it was in it. She admitted that she did, as it happened, but she’d let him make his own mind up about it. She told him that she thought some of the author’s ideas were sound, but that Ben should perhaps pick and choose what he bothered paying attention to. She suggested he could even just flick through and read around any other pictures that caught his eye. He got the impression that Marcie did not actually rate much of what the author had to say very highly. Still, when the librarian came back with what was indeed a large box of CDs, Ben decided to borrow the book too, as much for the novelty of the experience as anything else.
Though it made his rucksack heavier, there was enough space for Ben to tuck everything safely away in there as they left the library to make their way to the gym. Relying on their mutual senses of direction, they negotiated their way over the footbridge that crossed the dual carriageway which cut into the heart of the city, then past the Northumbria University buildings that Marcie admitted were a mystery to her. They didn’t have to spend long on what were unfamiliar streets before they intercepted the familiar Sandyford Road, and a minute later they were checking into their gym, the modest low-cost institution that they’d shared membership of for years without ever knowing of each other.
Obviously there was nothing on Ben’s record related to his collapse, to ring an alarm or raise a warning, as he was scanned in by the uninterested member of the gym’s team who was on reception duty. It also seemed as if there were no other staff there to recognise the couple who had, just a few days earlier, caused what was probably just a minor drama for them. So Marcie and Ben made their anonymous way to the changing rooms like any other pair of regular punters, agreeing to rendezvous in the room with the CV equipment once they’d got into their kit. Ben promised he wouldn’t try to start anything until Marcie was there, and also that he’d make sure his inhaler was close to hand.
Once in his gym kit, he felt anxious as he climbed the stairs and went back into the same room where he’d had his attack and, he guessed, perhaps nearly died - but for Marcie with her timely intervention, her quickly organised response and her thoughtful care. He noted there were a few other people already in the room, two stuck into their own routines, and a younger man just sat on a rower, but there were still several running machines free. He only had a moment to wait, vaguely filling the time by doing some half-hearted stretches, before he saw Marcie coming to join him, jogging up the stairs in her snug leggings and slim t-shirt. As she came up close and squeezed his hand, he felt reassured by the warm smile that she gave him.
She confirmed that he was ready, and that he wanted to try out the treadmill first. He deliberately avoided the one that he’d fatefully used on Monday afternoon, and Marcie mounted the machine beside his. He explained that he was going to dial in just fifteen minutes, and that he’d set a slower rate, which she agreed to, starting her own run just a moment after he’d set off. Ben let himself concentrate on his pace and his flow, watching the first few minutes tick away, trying not to worry too much about his breath or what Marcie was doing. Once he was five minutes in and beginning to warm up though, he started to feel increasingly confident that he was going to make it all the way through without any problems. He tried to steal a glance across to Marcie, managing to catch her eye to give her a big smile and a very quick thumbs-up. She gave him a huge beaming grin that lit up her glowing face, which Ben found very encouraging, even as he saw it chase away the worried concern that had been furrowing her heavy eyebrows.
They pounded on in silence for the remaining time, Ben enjoying the easy flow of his steady pace now, making no effort to push himself any harder, letting himself breathe deeply and steadily as he felt his sweat flow in a natural way. As the time ran out, he let himself slow right down to spend a couple of minutes cooling off, and was aware of Marcie doing the same beside him, until he brought things to a stop and stepped off the machine. Marcie immediately joined him, taking both his hands in hers to look up into his eyes eagerly, her face flushed with a healthy pink glow, with stray curls of hair sticking to her glossy forehead.
“I’m good,” he confirmed, noting that his heart rate felt as if it had already returned to normal. He experimentally took a deliberately deep breath, then added, “There’s nothing there, no drag or rattle. And that felt good, easy.”
“Well, I’m really glad to hear that,” Marcie said, gripping his hands, but she seemed serious as she looked up, her brown eyes big and round under her glasses, adding, “But please don’t get overconfident. You won’t forget what happened here before, will you? And last night was maybe a warning too. You need to take care of yourself, remember?”
“I remember,” he reassured her, “I know how serious it was. And I won’t forget last night either,” he added with a warm smile, recalling her uninhibited orgasm at his mouth’s touch as much as his own breath-stealing satisfaction. He quickly leant forwards to give her a peck on the lips, then straightening up again before she could protest, sighing deeply as he thought of his good fortune. “I’ll stay safe,” he reassured her, “You can trust me. I’ve found sanctuary in your den, burrowing down there with you. It’s our private home together, and I won’t jeopardise that.”
She gave him an odd look, perhaps knowing he was being suggestive and trying to warn him off saying more, or perhaps trying to take on the persona of a responsible adult when she really wanted to giggle like a teenager with him. After a pause, frowning in concentration as she dropped her gaze and looked around the room, she gently let go of his hands and said, “Okay. So what else would you normally do here? Free weights? Fixed resistance machines? Floor work on the mats?”
“Erm, after cardio, three of four circuits on the equipment, usually, twenty reps on each,” Ben admitted.
“Let’s do it then,” Marcie said positively, “I’ll act as your partner, like I’m spotting you, and you’ll lighten the weights significantly now, right?”
Ben agreed, and happily went back downstairs with her to take turns on the presses and lifts for all those muscles in their upper bodies and legs, Ben showing Marcie some moves that she didn’t know. She joked at how much lighter they had to set everything for her, flattering Ben about his strength even when he was knocking twenty percent off his usual load. After three circuits, they agreed they’d done enough, especially as Ben had proven that he was putting no stress on his heart or lungs. Marcie then led him to the mats for some cooldown stretches, and this was her turn to show him techniques that he’d not been in the habit of following. He found himself impressed by her suppleness as she sat on the floor, folding over her straight leg to reaching for her toes, or as she stood and simply slid her hand down her back, pulling her elbow up behind her head. He could appreciate her athleticism, as well as the direct and simpler appeal that her feminine curves had for him, as she actively encouraged him to look at her thighs, hips, waist and chest while she stretched.
She ended up having to shoo him away to the men’s changing rooms to have his shower and get dressed, telling him that she’d see him again at the spartan seating beside the vending machines in the lobby. As Ben quickly undressed and took his shower, he felt very pleased with the way that the session had gone, for his own health as well as the pleasure he took in Marcie’s company. He hoped that she’d be reassured that he could exercise safely on his own now, especially as he suspected he might have a lot of time on his hands in the near future, keeping himself busy whilst she was at work. But he also hoped that they could exercise together again soon, and that she could witness his steady return to fitness, even whilst he kept himself safe, just as he’d promised.
Ben found Marcie waiting for him as he left, dressed as if ready for work now. She must have packed her smart trousers and a more feminine blouse with her gym clothes before they’d left to meet the solicitor, Ben realised. He thought she’d made the effort to tidy her hair too, as its firm waves seemed more tightly pinned back now. He also noticed that she still had some of the healthy glow from their moderate exercise routine, adding to his impression of her health and fitness as she rose to greet him, her back straight, reaching her hand out to take his.
“You look nice,” he said, taking her hand, aware of how lame this expression was even as the words came out, “You look fresh, professional, elegant. Are you all set for work already?”
“Oh, yes and no, I guess,” she said as they headed for the door, “My shift doesn’t start until five, and it’s less than a ten minute walk from here to the library. It’s only twenty minutes from the flat, so if we pop back, I’ve still got about an hour before I need to set off. I just thought I’d smarten up now, then I can get straight there.” They’d already turned towards Jesmond Road, and Ben realised Marcie was intending to head back to what he was beginning to think of as their home now. She added as an afterthought, “Though probably no one would have minded if I’d turned up in my jeans.”
“So what do you want to do? Back at the flat, I mean,” Ben asked.
“I don’t think we’ll have time for that! And anyway, I’ve just got clean,” Marcie said with a giggle, leaning in as if to speak confidentially to him, even though there was nobody else nearby. Ben was surprised and a little excited as he realised where her mind had immediately gone, even though he’d not meant to be suggestive.
“It was an innocent question,” he protested, though he knew his smirk gave away his real desires. Remembering the scene back at the flat as they’d left it, he added, “Erm, there’s all my stuff we dumped. You could help me start sorting it, maybe.”
“Hey, I was going to say that I’d make some space on the bookcases for your things,” she started to say as they negotiated a busy crossing, “I don’t think your books will need much space, but your CDs will nearly double my collection, and you can put your sketchbook and things on the living room bookcase too. But I was going to say that I wanted to sort through my books first to make the space. I hope you don’t mind, but it’s a librarian thing, I guess. I don’t want you to try moving things around on the shelves on your own.”
“Aye, I understand,” Ben reassured her, “You don’t want me messing things up, screwing up the order, or your catalogue or whatever.”
“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand as they kept walking, “I guess that’s part of living with someone though, isn’t it? Maybe I just need to learn to put up with things that might wind me up, that might mess with the inflexible routines that I developed to be self-sufficient since I’ve been living on my own.”
“No, you don’t have to put up with anything,” Ben tried to convince her, and himself too perhaps, “We said at the outset, didn’t we? That we’d be honest. Tell me if I’m winding you up, and I’ll try to fit in with your habits. I want to, to really live with you, to share your life. That means making it work, together. I don’t want to just live alongside you.”
“Oh, that’s sweet, Ben,” she replied, giving him a kind smile, “And you must tell me if my habits are winding you up too. But I know it can be difficult to change your routines, to change one’s routines, to change the patterns of behaviour that make us who we are. You must still feel able to do everything that you would do if you were on your own, in your own place,” she paused as if considering this before adding, “Except for the obvious, like bringing strangers home to turn them into your new girlfriends.” Ben tried to interrupt to protest that he wouldn’t, but she went on speaking steadily, perhaps already knowing that would have been his response, “No, I need to learn that if I want to share my home with all the good things that there are about you, then I need to accept the whole package, with those cute little tics and niggles too.”
“Have you noticed some already then?” Ben asked, feeling a little worried and self-conscious now.
“Well, yes, but nothing serious. There’s the way you give those little coughs or like a low throat-clearing noise regularly, but I guess you can’t help that. Then there’s the way you pick your nose, or just sort of put your thumb up one nostril and quickly pinch it. And you do seem to need to adjust your genitals fairly often, or maybe just check they’re still there, but maybe that’s just what all men do.”
“I’m sorry,” Ben said, genuinely surprised, “I’d not really thought I was doing any of those. You notice so much.”
“I know,” Marcie said, squeezing his hand again, perhaps to comfort him as she glanced up to give him a big smile, before clarifying, “I mean, I know you do them unconsciously, and I know I’m nosy enough to notice little personal details too. But I can see they’re just automatic actions that you don’t think about, the way they happen so quickly. Don’t worry about them.”
“No, I shouldn’t pick my nose or hold my balls in public,” Ben said firmly, making an internal resolution to try and notice his impulses to do these impolite things, to catch himself before actually starting the action.
“Hey, it’s not all bad. You don’t seem to leave the toilet seat up,” Marcie joked.
“Aye, well if you’re tall, you don’t want to pee standing up, at least not into a regular lavvy. Even if your aim’s perfect, the splashback can be something awful. It can make a mess really quickly, and then you’ve got to mop it up. I’ve learnt it’s better to just pee like a girl.”
Marcie dropped his hand to give him a playful punch on the arm, “Hey! You made that sound like a bad thing. Us girls have got enough to put up with without boys looking down us for not having some weird directional hose thingy to wee through!”
“I thought you quite liked my weird thingy?” Ben pleaded, with mock sorrow.
“Well, of course, and you should know very well that I want to have a lot more fun and games with little Roddie O,” Marcie said with exaggerated primness, taking Ben’s hand again, “But that doesn’t mean I want one of my own, does it?”
“I’m glad,” Ben admitted, “I think if you said you did, like you felt transgender, I would feel pretty awkward, like it would strain our relationship.”
“Hey, you don’t need to worry about that,” Marcie reassured him, glancing up with a twinkling smile, “We’re a boring hetro couple, aren’t we? We know what we like, and what we like is about as traditional and basic as it comes. And if we’re talking about being a boring stereotyped couple, let me ask if you’d thought about tea tonight?”
Ben admitted he hadn’t, but immediately volunteered to cook something that they could share when Marcie got off her shift, suggesting cottage pie as something that he knew how to make which would keep warm in the oven if she was late. Marcie said that sounded delicious, but had to check that he’d thought of vegetables too. They agreed he’d get some cabbage ready, then put it on when Marcie sent him a text to say she was on her way home. As they were approaching Acorn Road on their route back to the flat anyway, they popped into the supermarket there together to get the things Ben needed, choosing a bottle of wine too, “Just in case,” as they both agreed.