CHAPTER 8
Marie was waiting for him as Donald arrived punctually the following Sunday. She was sat on the low stone wall surrounding the garden, clearly enjoying the sunshine. She allowed him to hold the car door open for her again, sensing that the simple act of courtesy gave him as much pleasure as she got from receiving it.
’Hello again,’ she said, as she fastened the seat belt. ’Not too tired now, I hope?’
He grinned at her, but failed to make the obvious retort, selecting first gear and driving away.
’I slept most of yesterday, if that’s what you mean.’
’When did you get back Donald?’
’Late Friday, early hours of Saturday morning to be more accurate. It will feel good to be able to stretch the legs.’
’Well, you can have as long a walk as you like. There’s food prepared for when we get back but it won’t spoil. It’s just to pop in the microwave, so it will be ready within a few minutes, whenever we want it. I’ve got a few sandwiches and a couple of drinks each in the back pack, so if we are out a long time, we shouldn’t starve.’
Arriving at the same point as they had parked the week before, Donald stopped, locked the car and took the back pack from Marie’s unresisting fingers, adjusting the straps to fit his bigger body.
’As you guessed, I’m not really a chauvinist, but just the same, I’ll carry this.’
’If you understood what chauvinism really is, Donald, you’d have me carrying it and everything else as well. But perhaps I shouldn’t tell you that. It may only put ideas into your head.’
Once again, he forbore from making the obvious rejoinder but set off directly up the hill, along a narrow sheep track that obliged Marie to walk behind him for some distance until nearer the top, where the heather had been burnt off, allowing space for them to walk side by side. Little was said. There seemed little need for conversation at that point. Only when they stopped to take a rest in the shelter of a drystone wall did Marie start talking.
’So, how was your last trip to the south, Donald? No literary guilds of dubious quality this time, I trust?’
’Fortunately not, it was a party of schoolchildren instead.’
Marie’s hand flew to her mouth. ’Oh no.’
’Oh yes. Actually, they were visiting the bookshop for quite a different reason but the teachers took the opportunity to include me as part of the educational process. It was good fun as it happens. I enjoyed it, even when one of them told me that if his handwriting was as bad as mine, miss would make him write it out again three times. Of course, they were much younger than the children you teach, about nine or ten I would think. Certainly they had a lively interest, much more than I might have imagined. I made up a story for them on the spot, which proved to be not half bad. I might even extend the idea later on. In fact, I spent half Friday night working on it.’
’So, you intend to go in for children’s writing?’
’Maybe, that’s a very difficult medium. It’s worth thinking about, though. Otherwise, everything was more or less normal, whatever that may mean in an author’s life.’
’Are your books selling well, Donald?’
He grinned at her. ’Book, not books. There’s only one so far. Yes, it isn’t doing badly. The publisher is cautiously confident and I can see for myself that it has aroused a fair degree of interest. Not that I’m going to retire just yet, not on the proceeds from this one. It doesn’t do as well as that. Hopefully, the next will do better.’
Marie shifted position, clasping her hands around her knees and turning to look at him gravely.
’Can you really make a living out of this, Donald? I mean, so much is written about struggling authors, of how so few ever make the grade. What I’m trying to say is, their work may be good, but it doesn’t necessarily sell.’
’That’s true, of course and I’m not the right person to judge how good my work is. Obviously I can hardly be very objective about the matter. But I do make a living. It’s not a very grand one, yet I can make enough to keep the wolf from the door. Whatever I get from the book should be enough to keep me going for a year or two, together with other, more regular work, long enough to be able to write a couple of books more. As I get better known so the books should sell in greater quantities. People tend to buy something by the same author, rather than looking at the book itself. That’s the theory, anyway. The practice may be very different. ’
’And you do have other books in mind?’
’Oh yes. I have ideas enough for half a dozen novels. In fact, I have a couple of hundred thousand words written already. It’s only in note form, or rough drafts, and needs to be written up properly. That’s just graft, nothing more. Most of the thinking for the next three novels has been done. Whether they will ever be published is another question altogether and that’s something that is not entirely in my hands. If they are published they still have to be sold and apart from signing copies, that part of it is very much in the hands of the great British public, who are not such great readers as they might be. Not from an author’s viewpoint, that is. Shall we continue?’
He stood up, held out a hand and helped her to her feet. She tightened her grasp as he tried to relinquish his and for a while walked hand in hand, until a rougher patch of slope necessitated a release.
’I’m glad you’re doing all right, Donald and I think your future books will be published, if the quality is anything like that of the present one,’ she said seriously.
’You’ve read it, have you? I hope you bought it’, he said, in mock severity.
’I did. I bought two, in fact. One for myself and one for my parents. I believe they’ll enjoy it. I know I did. It is good, Donald. As a teacher of English, I’m well accustomed to judging quality in literature.’
’Come now,’ he protested. ’It’s hardly anything that Shakespeare would own up to.’
’No, no it isn’t. But the two are not comparable. As a Shakespearean tragedy it doesn’t work. As a modern novel, it most decidedly does. I think you’ll find that most people will react the way I do, that having read this book, they will want to read something else by the same author. Of course, since I know you, I may be biased too.’
They continued, making their way downhill now, wending their way back to the car, going the long route round the foot of the hill itself. The distance was no short one and they found the need to take another break, sitting side by side on a bench provided for the purpose by a thoughtful local council.
’You’ve probably heard enough of me for one day,’ said Donald. ’Don’t let me show off again. Tell me something of yourself instead. Just to redress the balance, you understand.’
She smiled at him. ’All right, what do you want to know?’
’Well, leaving out childish ailments like chicken pox and measles, almost anything.’
Marie fell silent for a while, gathering her thoughts together, wondering what she should leave out, what to put in.
’I never actually had measles and I’m not too sure about chicken pox either. Come to think of it, I’m the most disgustingly healthy person you ever met. I’ll probably live for ever. What else? Let me see now. I was born twenty seven years ago, but you know that already. My great grandmother was French and that’s something you know as well. I hope you don’t object to being seen with a foreigner, even one at second or third remove.’
’It’s the worm in the apple,’ said Donald, in mock despondency. ’Do you realise that as a result of the Norman conquest, this country has been under military occupation ever since? Don’t you think it’s time you and your people went back home? Of course, nowadays it would have to be the Channel Islands, which would be a tight squeeze but think of the tax advantages.’
Marie opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again as she worked out the implications of what she had just heard.
’That’s a most unusual interpretation,’ she said at last.
’Perhaps, but no less accurate than the conventional one, a version which has been put about by the ruling body, which is essentially...’
’Of Norman French stock,’ Marie finished. ’Of course, even the present monarchy traces its line back to William the First. Mind, I always thought that was a bit forced. So you are presumably pure Anglo Saxon, which might account for your interest in the language.’
He grinned at her. ’Pure is not quite the word you should be looking for but not Norman French. Certainly not that. It’s a mixture of Danish, Celt and Anglo-Saxon. I’ve checked.’
’As it happens, my French forebears came from Paris, so I’m not a Norman either,’ said Marie.
’That being so,’ said Donald, with a generous gesture, ’it may be possible, with difficulty, to forgive you.’
’Pig,’ said Marie, without rancour.
’Male chauvinist variety,’ replied Donald. ’And don’t you forget it. Come on woman. I’m starving. When do we get to eat?’
In answer, Marie rose to her feet and started walking at such a pace that Donald had difficulty in keeping up with her. She’s only small, he thought admiringly but she’s tough, recalling that such were her own words on their first meeting. I’m clearly not as fit as I believed. They managed to reach the car together, breaking into a run for the last hundred paces, laughing and giggling like silly teenagers. Donald was still slightly breathless when they reached the house.
’You’ll stay longer tonight, Donald?’ asked Marie, as she closed the door. ’You don’t have anywhere to go tomorrow and no train to catch. We can have a nice long talk. Do say you’ll stay.’
’Thank you, I will, as long as you promise to throw me out when you’ve had enough of my company,’ replied Donald lightly.
The food was made ready in a very few minutes, as Marie had promised. After eating, they sat in the living room, where the conversation continued.
’You never did finish telling me about yourself,’ said Donald.
’That’s right, I never did. Somehow I got sidetracked. Where was I? Ah yes, le background foreign, monsieur. Well, after having had the appallingly bad taste to be of partly French origin, I grew up in a variety of homes as my parents moved to successively better class houses. They were in business. Well, trade really. They had a number of shops in three different towns. Daddy spent most of his time in the years leading up to his retirement simply going round the shops and keeping a check on what was going on, although he was not incapable of serving behind the counter of any of them.’
’What sort of shops?’
’Food shops. Mainly small self service places. Nothing as grand as a supermarket, I mean, he’s not a millionaire, or anything like that but he made a good living. He had the ability to pick out a good site, where there was little competition and to develop it so that it became profitable. Or maybe it was my mother who had that ability, I really don’t know. They sold up some years ago and retired.’
’You had no thoughts of continuing, then?’ asked Donald.
’No, I wanted a university education, something in the academic line. Truth to tell, I think my parents would have been disappointed if I had become a shop girl. They didn’t think it was so desirable for me to take on something ready made, where I didn’t have to struggle. They were right, of course. I wouldn’t have missed my career for anything.’
’You enjoy teaching?’ asked Donald.
’I love it,’ she answered, simply. ’Having said that, there are days when I wonder if it wouldn’t be better to bury the whole lot under concrete, staff, pupils, education authority and buildings and start again, preferable in something easier, like coal mining or going solo round the world in a leaking rowing boat, like the Jumblies. Those days are rare, fortunately, but they do exist.’
’I know what you mean,’ said Donald ruefully. ’I’m often tempted to burn everything I ever wrote. But still about your family, do you have any brothers or sisters?’
’No, I’m the only one. We’re quite a small family really. Rumour has it that when I was born, my father took one look at me, muttered ¨good God¨ and staggered away in search of a whisky flask and another bedroom, but that’s probably a foul calumny,’ she laughed. ’Actually, we are very close, even though I don’t see as much of them as I would like. I had to come here to find work, you see and while it’s not so far off, it’s still a drive of over three hours.’
’Since then, you’ve been trying to beat a little knowledge into unwilling heads and picking up strange fellows that write for what is euphemistically called a living.’
’Oh no Donald, we’re not allowed to beat children any more. No, I just talk at them until they give up. I’m good at that. But now it’s your turn again. Do you have any brothers or sisters?’
’My family is even smaller than yours, I think. Anyway, didn’t I mention that? Two cousins and two aunts, that’s the lot.’
That’s right, I’d forgotten. They live some distance off, don’t they?’
’Over three hundred miles away, down in Devon.’
’So what brought you here, Donald? What I mean is, why this particular town? There’s nothing much wrong with it but I wouldn’t have thought it gives a lot of stimulus to a writer.’
’Stimulus I can get from my own internal resources. That’s not a problem. What I need is somewhere quiet in order to work, preferably in a place where there isn’t a great deal going on. Which as you’ve just pointed out, is a pretty fair description of this town. Really, I would like to live somewhere even quieter. There are one or two little villages nearby which would be ideal, but that has to wait until I’m better established financially.’
’No girl friends?’ asked Marie with a wicked gleam in her eyes.
’No boy friends?’ Donald countered.
’Touché,’ she said. ’None at all.’
’Too particular, you see,’ said Donald. ’Now you’ll never get anywhere by being too particular.’
’Oh you are very right,’ she said, looking at him in an odd way, a way that made him feel slightly uncomfortable. ’I’m very particular. But you still haven’t answered my question.’
Donald sighed. ’Like you, none at all.’
’Too particular?’
’I really don’t know,’ Donald said. ’I never had the opportunity of finding out. I’ve always been writing, you see, ever since I was at school. In fact, I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t writing. It’s only recently I’ve had a little money to spare. As I understand it, women generally don’t want to go out with men who are penniless.’
’Some don’t mind, Donald.’
’Of course not, but how is a man to know who they may be? I have a sensitive soul, Marie and it’s easily bruised,’ he said with head held low.
There was a silence that stretched out uncomfortably long. He glanced up to see Marie gazing at him with a penetrating look.
’I know that was meant to be an amusing remark, Donald, yet I do believe there’s a certain amount of truth in it. It’s something that never occurred to me before but men tend to come in for more than a fair share of rebuffs. Even nowadays, it’s still expected that a man should make the first approach to a woman, never being sure if she will refuse him.’
’Ah well,’ said Donald philosophically. ’A man who expects life to be totally fair is fooling himself. And what about the poor woman who waits to be asked and who never is? It can’t be much fun for her either. At least a man has the satisfaction of knowing he tried, even if the answer is a slap on the face. It’s contact of a sort, even if a little more painful than what he was looking for.’
Marie left for a while to go into the kitchen, from where she brought in a late evening snack. While waiting, Donald took another opportunity to look round the room. Books she had in plenty, he noticed approvingly. He estimated they had approximately equal numbers, many of them in duplicate, most different to reflect their differing personal tastes. The room was cosy, giving a comfortable, warm feeling. His own house was much more spartan. Decorative items needed money and he had none to spare. Even the evening at the theatre had cost him more than he could afford but she would never know that. He pursed his lips, thinking that she may well have guessed it anyway. She was no idiot.
Conversation languished, not because of lack of something to talk about, rather through the tiredness that comes from a relaxed mind and body. It was late, much later than he had intended. Donald rose to go. Marie escorted him to the door. He paused there and looked at her with a more serious expression than he had worn all day.
’Would you mind very much if I kissed you, Marie?’ he said.
She came closer. ’I would be rather disappointed if you didn’t,’ she replied. ’As you said what about the woman who waits to be asked and who never is. It isn’t much fun.’
Lips met in a long, lingering contact. Marie broke away first, looking flushed.
’You’d better go home now, Donald, before things get out of control,’ she said breathlessly. ’Goodnight.’
’Goodnight,’ he repeated and left, to think of Marie all the night through.