CHAPTER 7
It was Wednesday. Marie checked her wardrobe with care. The Little Theatre was not of the standard of anything in Stratford, even though they both had a river running past. Nor were the actors ever likely to become household names in the way that so many of the Royal Shakespeare Company were. Nevertheless, she wished to look her best. She chose with care, a dove grey two piece, with black shoes and matching silk scarf. She didn’t normally wear makeup but considered the occasion demanded just a little, enough to combine with the subtle scent she decided to use for once. Ready, she waited patiently. Donald had informed her of his success yesterday, though how he had found time to purchase tickets from so far away was a mystery to her.
The doorbell rang. She smiled expectantly and opened the door. Donald stood there, wearing a dark suit and white shirt with a neatly knotted tie. He too, had made a little extra effort. The thought pleased her.
’I’m ready,’ she said. ’It’s a little early, though. Shall we walk?’
’By all means,’ Donald replied. ’It isn’t so far. One moment, I’ll just lock the car.’
They strolled along the street, talking in low tones.
’May I say how good you look?’ said Donald. ’That outfit suits you perfectly.’
’Thank you, kind sir,’ she said. ’I won’t insult you by claiming it’s just an old thing I threw on in a hurry.’
’Of course not, a theatre visit, even one like this, is still something of an occasion.’
She smiled up at him, but the thought crossed her mind that she had actually meant something rather different.
’You don’t look bad yourself,’ she said. ’Too many men dress far too casually nowadays. It’s good to see that you haven’t cast aside all the old traditions.’
’I suspect the casual dressers are all married men with a bunch of kids and they can’t afford anything better,’ he said, in a humorous tone of voice.
’I might believe that if I hadn’t seen so many unmarried men at work. Take it from me, sartorial sense in the male is all too noticeable by its absence and very often in the female too, if I am going to be fair.’
’But don’t forget to take into account that successive governments as well as constant waves of employers have failed to grasp the self evident fact that if a person is paid only as much as he needs, then he has little, or nothing to spare for anything extra. For example, to buy the so called luxury goods he often helps to make. If we don’t have it, we can’t spend it.’
Marie stared up at him with a puzzled look on her face. ’I’m not sure there aren’t a few holes in that as an economic theory, but I must say, as an underpaid teacher, I like the sound of it. Having said that, when is anyone ever overpaid, no matter how much they get?’
’Not authors, at least,’ he assured her. ’At any rate not this author. That, of course, is something I do have a certain control over. The better my writings, the more I get paid. Once I can persuade an all too cynical publisher to go out on a limb, that is.’
They found their seats and settled with ten minutes to spare. The curtain opened and the play began. Amateur it may have been, yet it was well done for all that and well worth the optimistic reviews in the local newspaper. During the interval, Donald and Marie made their way to the refreshment room.
’Would you like a drink?’ Donald asked.
’Yes please, something soft. It’s a bit late for coffee. A fruit juice perhaps, apple if they have it, but anything will do.’
Marie found a table while Donald bought the drinks. He set two apple juices on the table and a plate containing two small cakes with a minimum of cream on top.
’Not as good as yours,’ he commented. ’I can tell that without tasting them but probably acceptable anyway. I’m sorry there’s only the one plate. They’d run out.’
’That’s all right. I don’t mind sharing. I see you have got yourself a fruit juice as well. Didn’t you fancy something stronger?’
’Alcohol, you mean? I never touch the stuff. No, it’s not a moral objection. The truth of the matter is that I don’t care for the taste of it. Even the smell puts me off. There may be something physiological in that, I suppose. Besides, when a man lives on his own it’s all too easy to take to drink and that’s not a thing I wish to do. There’s enough stimulus in real life without having to resort to artificial means of obtaining it. Sorry if that sounds a bit priggish. It’s not meant to be.’
’I don’t think you’re priggish, Donald. You’ve obviously thought it out and are strong enough to go your own way without blindly following the crowd. That’s often difficult.’
’Not really, nowadays, people assume I’m driving and let it go at that. It’s probably easier than it used to be.’
He nibbled one of the cakes then put it back carefully on the plate.
’Hm,’ he said. ’I was right. It isn’t as good as yours. It looks as though the theatre cat is going to get lucky tonight, or unlucky, as the case may be.’
Cautiously, Marie tried the other cake, placing it immediately beside the other one.
’You are right. I can certainly do better than this. I wonder how long they’ve had them on sale? But don’t bother with anything else, Donald. The drink is quite sufficient, honestly. It was a nice thought, and I do appreciate it. Anyway, there’s the bell, time to return to our seats.’
The play came to its close to well deserved high applause. Marie and Donald left their seats and began to walk home. The night air was balmy, the slight breeze doing nothing to cool. The river glistened in the strong moonlight, ripples on the surface moving in strangely regular patterns. Ducks and geese moved but sporadically, seeking rest rather than food.
’They have swans on the Avon,’ said Donald. ’Silent swans swimming softly. Here, everything goes quack. Where’s the romance in that?’
Marie laughed delightedly. ’I know what you mean,’ she said. ’I’ve been to Stratford several times. They have ducks there too. Still, even a quack is better than nothing, especially if it’s said in a friendly way.’
All around, people were strolling along the river bank, many arm in arm. It seemed only natural for Marie to slip her arm through Donald’s as they walked their way. He looked at her and smiled, relishing the pressure of her hand on the crook of his arm and the warmth of her body as she necessarily came into contact with him.
’It wasn’t a bad production at all,’ she said. ’Better than I expected, I’ve seen them before, of course, and sometimes it has been truly awful. This time they seem to have got it just about right.’
’I agree,’ said Donald. ’Although I think they missed with the clown, as seems to happen all too often. They hadn’t really understood that he isn’t simply funny. In fact, he’s probably not funny at all. I don’t think he’s meant to be. His purpose is to hold up a mirror to the rest of us and show us up for what we really are. He’s a cynic, I always think.’
’Cynic? Oh, I’m not so sure about that, although I do agree he acts in cynical ways at times. Certainly he isn’t just a funny man, any more than a mirror is funny in itself.’
She stopped suddenly, pulling him to a halt with her and turned her face upwards.
’Oh Donald, I do apologise. I never asked you how your book signing went on Monday.’
’Do you really want to know?’
She nodded. ’I’ll tell you then. It was dreadful. I got caught by the local writers’ guild, middle aged artistic types who have never produced anything worth reading and never will. Perhaps you know the sort of people I mean - frightfully earnest and terribly interested in knowing the precise meaning of every word but apparently incapable of working out that words stand only in context. They don’t have a meaning of their own. I think I read forty or more of their poems, as well as more of their prose than I could digest at a single sitting. There I was, desperately trying to sign books for other customers, and every time there was the slightest lull, back came the vultures with more carrion for me to look at. It didn’t help that I was a bit tired after travelling overnight but of course that wasn’t their fault. I wouldn’t have minded so much but I don’t believe the whole group bought more than one book between them. They’ll probably spend the remainder of the year dissecting it and looking for grammatical errors. I’m only glad I won’t be at the autopsy to hear the process.’
’Oh, Donald, that must have been dreadful. Couldn’t you have put them off? I mean, surely you didn’t need to read what they had written?’
’Well, I don’t always find it easy to say no. Still, it wasn’t all bad. I filled in one and a half notebooks with quotations from the group, much of which I intend to use in a future piece of writing. Remind me to show it to you one day.’
’I will. Are you sure no-one will recognise themselves?’
’I very much doubt it. I have years of work ahead of me and I don’t suppose anyone in that group has such a good memory, at least not to judge by the number of times I was asked the same questions. Besides, I don’t really believe any of them can be classified as readers.’
’And yesterday, what about that?’
’Oh, that was better. More civilised, anyway and of course, I was better rested.’
’After which you came back here to take me to the theatre. You did that especially, didn’t you? No need to shake your head at me, Donald Vickers. I checked. There was a list of your engagements in the bookshop which hadn’t been taken down. Today was a free day for you, but your next engagement is in the same area. I suppose you’re travelling overnight again.’
’Well, as it happens, yes.’
Marie tightened the pressure of her arm momentarily. ’Bless you Donald. You are very thoughtful. I think I rather like you.’
’That’s a mutual feeling,’ he said. ’Er, that is to say, it’s you I like, not myself. No, what I’m really trying to say is... Marie, do you know what I’m talking about?’
’I think so,’ she said, laughing.
’Good, don’t bother explaining. I’m so confused now, I doubt if I would understand at all.’
They continued along the by now silent streets, reaching Marie’s home just as the church clock struck eleven. She released his arm, fumbled in her pocket for the key and turned to face him.
’I won’t invite you in this time, Donald. It is rather late and you have a train to catch.’
’That’s right. In fact, it leaves at midnight, so I don’t actually have much time to spare. But I’ll see you on Sunday.’
’Yes please. Come at twelve again. I’ll be ready. Oh, before I forget, don’t take this as anything more than a sign of friendship.’
She lifted herself on her toes and kissed him gently on the cheek.
’Thank you, Donald’, she said, eyes gleaming at him, reflecting the warm glow from a nearby street light. ’I really enjoyed the evening. Good night.’
Pushing the key into the lock, she turned and went inside, leaving Donald stroking his cheek in wonderment. Slowly, he made his way to his car and drove away, coming back to his senses only after realising he had driven through a red light.