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The journey seemed to fly by, and they’d reached the fringes of Newcastle almost before Ben realised. As he passed a garage, he pulled in, thinking to fill up while they were there, but also to see if they had a car wash. He explained his thought to Marcie that it might be best to get the lipstick graffiti off sooner rather than later, especially if it might attract unwanted attention when they parked up on the street back in Jesmond. Marcie reluctantly agreed, then stayed in the car when he parked them by the Jet Wash, making faces at him while he got the foamy spray started and quickly worked his way around the petite car. He was sorry to see the bright colours bleeding away in the white foam across the purple panels of Marcie’s well-loved car, yet he knew with absolute certainty that Marcie and he would both remember this day for the rest of their lives.
When they got back into the flat with the day’s rubbish and the somewhat dirty travel blanket all in the rucksack, Marcie confirmed that she’d have a quick shower and get ready to head straight back out again. Ben suggested they still had time for a mug of tea, or something stronger for Marcie if she wanted, but she just agreed to the tea as they finished getting their boots off. Yet at that very moment the flat’s phone rang.
“I just bet that’s Nanna,” Marcie said in exasperation, “I swear she’s got supernatural eyes on this place.”
Ben went through to the kitchen to boil the kettle before beginning to unpack the dirty Tupperware and the plastic glasses into the sink as Marcie answered the phone, quickly slipping into her familiar rapid Maltese as her guess was evidently proved right. Though he still understood nothing of the language when she flew through it at top speed, he could tell that she was enthusiastically sharing her mood of happy excitement with her grandmother, presumably filling her in on some of what they’d got up to that day. Then she obviously passed on what was the biggest news of the day, as he heard her pause and give way to the loud shrieks of delight and exclamation that he could hear coming from the phone’s handset. Marcie was obviously confirming the truth of her and Ben’s betrothal, as she kept repeating, “Iva, iva. Huwa veru.” Then Ben saw her move the handset away from her mouth deliberately, covering it to say apologetically, “She’d like to speak to you, love. Is that okay?”
Ben agreed, a little apprehensively, and took the handset from her, using the little Maltese he’d learnt to say hello and ask how Marcie’s Nanna was. She responded in kind, and he dutifully answered, “Jien tajjeb grazzi.” But then she immediately switched to English to wish him happy birthday, which he thanked her for too. Then she asked if Marcie had told her the truth.
“Yes, I proposed to her today, after our lunch by the seaside. She said yes, she agreed. So we are going to get married.”
“Oh, Benjamin, it is much much good news!” she replied with great excitement in her gravelly voice, “You make the old lady happy, super happy. Jesus and the saints, they bless you. I send you and my granddaughter, my beautiful Marcie, much love and, ahem, the talba. Prayers, yes, happy prayers. You are two beautiful people. You marry, you are the grandson, I am Nanna to you, it is true, yes?”
“Yes it’s true, you are my new Nanna for real now,” Ben confirmed happily, though with some lingering embarrassment, “I am looking forward to meeting you, when we come to Malta. I’m just sorry that it can’t be this summer. You know I need to wait, for everything to get sorted, to be sure I’m better?”
“Yes, you get better. You do the exercise, yes? You see the doctors, and you are gentle in the new work. It is good,” the old woman stated, obviously having been filled in by Marcie on what he was doing. She went on, “Summer is good in Malta, but many people come. You come when it is not so hot. It is good too.”
Ben agreed, promising they’d visit when they could, and saying again that he was looking forward to it, then she was wishing him happy birthday again and saying again how happy she was. Ben thanked her again, then suggested he hand her back to Marcie, which she agreed to. He finished by wishing her good health in Maltese, then as he passed the phone’s handset back to Marcie, she whispered, “Thank you, well done.”
Ben poured the boiled water from the kettle over the teabags that he’d put in a couple of clean mugs, before finishing off his tidying up as the phone call wound down. He’d thrown the rubbish away before washing up the Playmobil figure in the sink along with the other picnic things, thinking of how she’d got splashed with wine. As he gazed out of the kitchen window, he realised how quiet it was in the backyard, and wondered if the boys had exhausted themselves on the new log already. Then Marcie had ended the call, hanging up with a contented sigh before coming through to the kitchen to thank him and give him a cuddle.
She sighed again as she rested her head on his shoulder and snuggled against him, saying, “I’m glad Nanna called, and thank you again for speaking to her. You really have made her very happy by getting this ring for me, and she really is looking forward to meeting you, whether that’s before or after we’ve truly tied the knot. But it’s made me think that I should phone my mother too to pass on the news. I’m sure she’d have preferred to have been the first to know. Is it okay if make the call now? If you’re having a shower before we go out too, you could go first.”
Ben agreed, but then had a guilty thought, “I shouldn’t have spoken to her first, should I? Like that old tradition, asking the parents’ permission, about proposing to marry their daughter.”
“No way!” Marcie said emphatically, playfully punching his shoulder, “You’d have been in such trouble with me if you’d tried a stunt like that. You’d have needed more than a wildlife photography card to patch that one up! I’ve stood on my own two feet, well, at least since Dad passed away. I make my own decisions, I’m in charge of my life now. You know that better than anyone.”
“Aye, Marcie, I know,” Ben reassured her, pulling her to him for a cuddle again, “It was just an idle worry, I didn’t mean anything by it. I know which century we’re in really.”
“It’s okay,” she reassured him in turn, “I can’t imagine you ever turning into a patriarchal pig just because we’ve crossed some traditional line that’s been scored in the shifting sand of our shared lives. But we’d better get on with things if we want to avoid being late for our friends.”
They kissed, just with a parting peck on the lips, then Ben watched Marcie step back into the living room to pick up the phone again, secretly glad that she’d called Sofie and Geoff their friends rather than just his friends. As he saw her slump down with perhaps an exaggerated sigh of weary resignation, he smiled and blew her a kiss, then turned toward the bathroom.
He was glad to get out of his clothes and under the hot water, as he hadn’t realised how dirty he was. Beyond his own dried sweat, and the residual semen that still made his foreskin slippery, he seemed to have picked the sticky salty air itself, as well as the sand between his toes and even into the roots of his hair. He was generous with the body wash and shampoo, feeling as if he was making himself fresh and rejuvenated just for Marcie as he splashed the water over his face.
Once he’d finished and rubbed his body dry, he wrapped his towel around his waist, abandoning all his old clothes to the laundry basket, before stepping back through the flat. He found the living room empty, Marcie having already finished her call apparently, so he went through to the bedroom, where he found her setting out clothes on the bed, including what must have been one of her long dresses, the crumpled cotton patterned with twining green leaves. She looked up as he entered, explaining that since they were staying over, she needed to think of something suitable for the morning as well as this evening.
Ben was a little surprised that she seemed to have already moved on from the important call, but when he asked her if she’d managed to get through to her mother, Marcie was dismissive. “She congratulated us and said that she was pleased for us,” Marcie explained, “But you know how she is. We might as well be a couple on a soap opera who’ve just got engaged for all the emotional involvement she shows.”
Ben thought Marcie was maybe being a little harsh, but by now he knew enough about the tensions in her relationship with her mother to not start probing. Instead he stepped forwards to put his arm around Marcie’s shoulder as he asked if she would like them both to pop over to Manchester again soon, so that Vera could offer her congratulations to them, “Face to face, as it were.” But Marcie assured him that with their last visit being so recent, they were under no obligations or expectations.
“We can leave it to the summer. Holy Mary, we could probably leave it to Christmas and she wouldn’t really notice,” Marcie said, but then the frustration of her cross mood seemed to suddenly evaporate as she turned to let him give her a hug, “Oh, she’s a harmless old woman really. I shouldn’t be so mean. She probably needs a bit of time for the news to sink in. She’s just a bit vague, and you were so patient with her when we went around there, you’re definitely the golden boy in her simple, narrow world now. I don’t want to let my overreaction to her uselessness cast a shadow on the day. Look at you, just wrapped in a towel, my fresh fiancé! I could push you onto the bed right now and see what you’ve got tucked away under there for me, all over again, right now.”
As Ben had held her in his arms, he’d felt his body respond to the sensation of her loose clothes brushing against his bare skin, as well as the soft warmth of her breasts and abdomen pressing against his flat stomach as he held her tight to him. But as Marcie had spoken, she’d leant back to rub his chest vigorously, making his whole body tingle. He’d have been quite happy if she’d followed through on her suggestion right there and then, exposing his growing penis before teasing him irresistibly towards yet another aching orgasm. But she confirmed his more rational expectations as she sighed, putting her hands flat against his chest over his damp pendant charm, and said, “Oh Ben, I must put you down and go for my own shower. You’re lovely and clean, but I’m still filthy, and the clock is ticking.”
Ben stooped to give her a kiss, but she just pecked his lips then wriggled free, blowing him a kiss from the door as he had done to her earlier. He smiled to himself as he was left alone, feeling deep contentment that things had gone so well on their big day, even as his mild arousal quickly ebbed away. He found clean clothes for himself, choosing clean jeans and another baggy shirt, before picking out underwear and a t-shirt for the morning too, stuffing these into his small gym rucksack. Then, thinking of the toiletries and inhaler that he’d need, he went back through the flat toward the bathroom. Hearing the shower already running, he paused in the kitchen to fish the stewed tea bags out of their forgotten mugs, splashing in some milk as well as a spoonful of sugar for himself. Then he turned to say “Knock knock” at the bathroom door, even though it was ajar, before pushing his way in.
Marcie was under the gushing water, her naked body glistening under the steam and spray, her wavy dark hair pulled down to her shoulders by its soaking weight. Ben couldn’t help himself from noticing that her pubic hair was matted with foamy water too, and soapy suds lingered on her swaying breasts, slipping down over the mole-scattered skin of her long cleavage whilst her nipples stood proud from her broad dusky pink areolae.
“Ooh, this feels good! I felt really grubby from all our exertions along the greasy seashore,” Marcie told him, blowing the water away as she rubbed her face. Ben explained he’d felt the same, also saying that he’d finished making the tea was just getting the things he needed for his overnight sponge bag. As he bumbled about, she went on, “I was still all slimy down below as well, which felt somehow pleasantly comforting if you can imagine it, but it’s not really a polite way to leave things, is it? I’ll be much fresher and respectably fragranced now. Ooh, could you pack my toothbrush too, please?”
Ben checked if she wanted him to pack anything else for her from the bathroom, whilst smiling to himself with a mixture of warm emotions. He felt a guilty pleasure at the exciting glimpses that he’d caught of Marcie’s wet naked body, but he also cherished the simple ease that they now had with each other as they openly went about their everyday personal routines together.
Marcie had already stopped the shower and was stepping out of the bathtub though, wrapping her towels around her head and chest. Ben followed her out into the kitchen, confirming which mug was hers as she picked it up to take through the bedroom. She said she’d be as quick as she could, but she warned him that she still expected it would take her a while to get ready, so she suggested that he put his feet up on the sofa to maybe read while he waited. Ben agreed to that, saying that he’d be happy to get on with a bit more of The Magician’s Nephew.
As she left him to it, Ben found his place in Marcie’s old copy of the book, relaxing into the sofa just as she’d prompted. He felt the story had reached an interesting moment, as the confused children had found themselves in the quiet and timeless enchanted wood, then just worked out what was going on with the mysterious pools and their colourful magic rings. Ben had expected them to step straight into Narnia on their next adventure, so he was surprised by the descriptions of an eerie and lifeless red-lit world. Though the story briefly seemed to strike a slightly dissonant chord with the magic of Earthsea which they’d just been listened to in the car, Ben found he quickly shifted into the narrative pace of the old-fashioned children. Soon he was so drawn into Digory and Polly’s exploration of the ancient lifeless empty buildings that he lost track of time, not noticing how long Marcie had been gone, nor even the sound of her hairdryer.
He startled when he heard her voice at the living room door beside him, asking, “What do you think?” He laughed lightly, setting the book aside while she put the empty mug that she brought through down on the bookcase. He admitted he’d been miles away, lost in the story, then he turned attentively towards her. He was not surprised to see that she looked amazingly beautiful, with her dark wavy hair brushed out into that parted crinkled cloud, and her eyes and lips made up once more, though she’d used her darker russet lipstick this time. The snake chain of her necklace looped across the olive skin of her bare collarbones, with its familiar silver hammer resting on her sternum, all exposed by the low cut of her elegant dress.
Though he’d not really taken in Marcie’s chosen clothes when he saw them laid out on the bed earlier, Ben saw now that she was wearing another of her loose peasant-style frocks. This one had ruffled sleeves that fell off her shoulders, hanging down on a line with the baggy fabric across her chest, seemingly held tight by a drawstring ribbon that was laced into a bow at her cleavage. The rumpled cloth’s white background was crowded by a botanical print of variegate green leaves, perhaps coiling hops Ben thought. Below Marcie’s full bust, the soft material was cinched around her waist in corrugated pleats, playing well to her hourglass figure Ben thought, before it flared out again over her hips, hanging down to the gypsy hem that was just below her knees. She was already laced into her special soft black leather boots, which teasingly left a little of her calves’ bare skin exposed between their tops and the ragged hem of her dress, whilst she’d also slipped on her clusters of bangles over her dress sleeves’ gathered cuffs.
“You look amazing,” Ben said as he took all this in, whilst Marcie twisted one way then the other, swishing the dress’s skirt with her pinched fingers, as if modelling for him. “You’re so elegant,” he said, “Like a sixties flower child screen goddess.”
“Don’t tease,” Marcie chastised him, lightly striking his shoulder with the back of her hand, making her bangles jingle, “It’s just an old vampish Laura Ashley rip-off, from Dorothy Perkins I think, and I’m not about to stick flower-powered daisies in my hair. Oh Ben, I’m so sorry!”
Ben realised that Marcie thought she’d made a faux pas by inadvertently mentioning his mother’s name, but he was sincere as he reassured her, “Don’t worry! I know it just came out, but you can mention her, especially today. Maybe in that dress, it is a bit like the one in that photo we got from Dad, from their wedding day, in the frame just there. But the cycle comes around, doesn’t it? And you know I’d never confuse you with my mum. It’s okay to remind ourselves, of your dad too, I hope it’s okay me saying. They’d be happy for us, I think.”
“Oh, you’re so right, Ben,” Marcie said earnestly, falling down onto the sofa beside him and putting her hand on his knee, inadvertently giving him a potent waft of her distinctive bergamot perfume which she must have just been liberally applying. She went on, “They really would be happy, wouldn’t they? We should hold them in our hearts. You’re so thoughtful, when all I was thinking about was whether my old strapless bra would stay on if I breathed in too deeply or raised my arms high! But it’s good to remember those who’ve passed away while we celebrate our happiness. A bit of sadness can’t cancel that out. And we should remember the living too! Did you want to quickly phone your own dad with our news before we head off?”
“No, it’s alright,” Ben said with a chuckle, squeezing Marcie’s knee as his own hand rested there, “He kind of knew I was going to ask sometime soon. We talked about the ring, even. He knows we had a busy day planned. I’ll speak to him tomorrow evening.”
“Well, if you’re sure,” Marcie cautiously conceded. Then, after a contented sigh, she seemed to get all business-like as she patted his knee firmly and said, “So if you’ve finished your cuppa too, are you ready to head off right now?”