‘I’m really looking forward to having the girls at half term. It’s ages since they’ve stayed the night.’ Effie was talking on the phone to Susie. ‘I’ve been beginning to wonder if Cathy was keeping them away or being particularly possessive about them. So it’s quite a relief. Feels almost back to normal.’
‘Well...’ There was no doubting the reservation in Susie’s tone.
‘I wish you sounded a bit more enthusiastic.’
‘Just trying to be realistic.’
‘Me too. But I think this half-term trip is a good sign, don’t you?’
‘Sure. But the last time we spoke about things we were delving into the knotty area of mother/daughter rivalry. Can’t have just evaporated.’
‘But I wasn’t thinking of Cathy. We were thinking of me and my mother.’
‘That’s the point, darling. Doing things repeatedly. Didn’t your researches tell you that we are destined to repeat our own histories including our mistakes: you competing with your mother for Victor and now, well, something going on between you and Cathy that’s probably got a competitive element.’
‘But not for the children. That really is my best bit, least contaminated.’
‘Lusting after their father is a complication.’
‘Oh, Susie.’
‘Sorry, Effie. Not meaning to be boringly moralising, but it’s probably better to admit things than pretend. That’s one thing I learnt from my time on the couch.’
`Look, I’m doing my best not to pretend. That’s why I’m keeping this bloody diary and talking to you. And I really think any lust I may have experienced has been quite shocked out of me. Like it was a different me. And I’m really thinking about what you say about rivalry. That’s tough.’
‘Well, if it’s any comfort, I know that I’m dead jealous of my two boys just because they’re half my age.’
Effie sighed ‘Perhaps I should be grateful I hadn’t thought of that one. And then there’s Oliver. I guess I’ve got to make my mind up about him.’
‘Now there I can encourage you. I think he’s good news.’
‘He’s threatening to cook me dinner next week.’
‘You’re a survivor, darling. Must go.’
Susie made it all sound so easy and normal, which was exactly what Effie needed before she could phone Oliver. He answered promptly and his voice brightened up when he heard it was Effie.
‘I did enjoy the weekend, and I’m going to hold you to that dinner for Saturday night. Sal has promised to give me a hand with the cooking and I promise it’ll be simple.’
And so Saturday night found Effie, bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon in hand – he had told her it would be meat – walking down the path to Oliver’s house. The weather was cooling and she wore thick tights, a skirt and a sweater which she hoped looked smart without being too dressy. Oliver grinned when he opened the door. He was wearing a large chef’s apron with Moet and Chandon emblazoned on the front. ‘You made it! Brave woman’ he greeted her, giving her a friendly hug. ‘You know, I think I could get to like this cooking lark. Come and see.’ He ushered her into the kitchen from which a delicious smell was emanating. Steam rose as he lifted the lid of an old cooking pot; ‘It’s a venison stew. Sal’s recipe.’
‘That’s ambitious, Oliver, but certainly smells good.’
‘And I’m glad to say, though I say it myself, it is good. I trust my sister-in-law on matters culinary absolutely and, I have to admit, she was in earlier just to check on things’ he laughed. ‘But, come, let’s sample the wine, if I can find the damn opener’. He bent to search in cupboards by the sink, triggering for Effie a flashback to the occasion months ago when he had rummaged around in an empty drinks cupboard to produce a decanter containing a bare couple of centimetres of whisky.
Tonight, however, there was a rich aromatic claret served in two lovely old cut glasses, a plastic bowl of peanuts and a saucer of black olives which tasted good and Effie rapidly felt at ease. They took their drinks into the living room where to Effie’s delight a log fire was burning in the grate. ‘First fire of the season’ said Oliver giving it a good poke with a brass poker. ‘And move over, Milton, make room for our guest.’
Oliver was addressing this remark to the dog who was lying stretched out on the hearth rug. ‘Milton?’ queried Effie, patting its flank. ‘Yes, we thought he liked poetry when he was a puppy. My wife used to read it out loud and was convinced he used to perk up when she got to ‘Hence loathed Melancholy’, and he’d wag his tail at ‘Sport that wrinkled Care derides, And Laughter holding both his sides’ – or so Alice liked to think.’
‘A poetic dog? Why not. He must miss Beth. Or do you keep up the reciting?’ asked Effie, patting the dog’s head.
‘Sadly not.’ He looked suddenly dejected. ‘I haven’t got her appreciation of such things. I haven’t felt like going there since she died. Didn’t even much want to look after Milton for a while, but... ‘and his face brightened again ‘I don’t want to spend the evening talking about Alice. It’s just so good to have you here. I haven’t used this room enough recently.’
‘It’s a nice room, particularly with the fire going.’ Effie could say this with some sincerity as the wine warmed her, the fire glowed and the dog dozed. It was really quite cosy. Oliver had taken some photos on the trip to Moldsworth which they spent some time looking at, Effie trying not to examine each one with her normal critical eye. God, she must go to the gym more often, but ending up laughing as they recalled the incident with the picture. Dinner, too, was quite a jolly affair: Oliver’s casserole was as delicious as it smelled, it was followed by fresh fruit salad with crème fraiche which Effie loved and an hour or so later they were back in the living room with Oliver piling more logs on to the fire, a cafetiere of coffee on the side table and two glass balloons filled with a rich amber liquid, a fifteen –year old brandy that Oliver had magicked up from somewhere. ‘Oh, you didn’t know I have a secret wine cellar’.
‘No I didn’t’ said Effie, taking a sip which slipped down her throat in a warm wave ‘particularly since last time I was here I didn’t get the feeling you were into wines.’
Oliver looked serious, leaning forward and gazing into the fire. `you know, you are right. When you were here before I really wasn’t terribly interested in anything that I usually am. I fear Alice’s death kind of knocked it all out of me. We used to do things like that together. She’d cook and I’d do the wine. And it’s just taken a while to get back to things. I mean, what does it really matter what you drink if you’re on your own? The whole point is to enjoy it with someone you care about.’
Effie had to think about this, knowing perfectly well that she was far from averse to solitary drinking and not wishing to have to consider this a personality flaw. Would Oliver think that rather shocking if she told him? And what about having to admit to a dreaded sexually transmitted disease? Or even to hint at her illicit attraction to Jim? She shuddered at the thought, momentarily envisaging Oliver as some puritanical John Knox figure on his pulpit ranting on about this monstrous woman with her sinful behaviour. But the good food and wine, the brightly flickering logs, not to mention the still prostrate gently snoring Milton added up to an atmosphere that was far from puritanical. She could see that Oliver had really loved his wife, that he really had been shattered and bereft by her death and that this, in its way, was truly impressive for Effie who had had to fight off cynicism about relationships after Jack’s abrupt departure.
Oliver sat back and was raising his brandy glass, smiling now.
‘Sorry, Effie, I don’t intend to be morbid. I think I really have ‘moved on’ as they say. And meeting you has been one of the best things that’s happened to me in a long while. I mean it.’
A lovely glow crept over Effie mixing with her already warm brandy feeling so that the world really looked good, and she lay back closing her eyes, just letting the pleasure waft over her. She found herself reaching out her arm towards Oliver who took her hand and squeezed it. Neither spoke. She squeezed his hand back. Nothing more. He squeezed again, she squeezed back. She opened her eyes to find Oliver still motionless, with eyes closed and his brandy glass in his hand. She wasn’t sure whether she wanted him to do something else, gather her up in his arms or if she liked it just as it was. As if he anticipated her thoughts he opened his eyes and looked into Effie’s.
‘Effie, I do like you a lot, and I like to think you like me at least a bit. But I can’t go very fast, you know. To be frank...’
‘Oh please, do be frank’ she interjected.
‘.. to be frank, I don’t think I can quite face the sex thing yet...’
Effie waited, unsure what to say. He took his hand away and reached for the decanter. ‘Here, let’s enjoy the moment. This brandy’s damn good, isn’t it. I haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time.’ He swallowed the remaining brandy before topping up both their glasses and settling himself back on the sofa next to Effie. ‘I did want to bring it up – sex, I mean. I mean we know each other quite well now and I’ve been thinking about it. I thought you might have too?’
In her mellow mood Effie stretched herself and answered in a rather languid voice, patting Oliver’s thigh which was right next to hers. ‘Of course I have, but do go on.’
‘Well, we’re neither of us spring chickens...’ Effie laughed and involuntarily patted the varicose vein behind her left knee, but refrained from saying anything. He hesitated, sipped his brandy looking thoughtful, and continued. ‘I don’t know what it is, perhaps it is just getting older, and of course there’s Alice. She really was a lovely woman – extremely good mother – quite sexy in her way... ‘Another pause in which Effie’s imagination got busy with shifting the quite ordinary image of the woman in the photo on the piano to a more vamp-like version of Alice. Oliver was finding his voice again.’ Yes, really quite sexy, she had the most beautiful... quite unusual...’ Effie had to restrain her bursting curiosity.. ‘but I fear some of that has gone into retreat with her departure’. He turned to look at Effie. ‘I’d really hate to start something and find, you know, that I couldn’t perform. I’ve been thinking about it since meeting you and I realise right now I just feel a bit too nervous, and it’s not that I wouldn’t like to try, I assure you, but..’
‘Oliver, say no more. I quite understand and it is not a problem. I think we both need some time, and I think it’s most decent of you to let me know, and I feel quite touched by your openness’ she added patting his thigh. The two were silent for a few minutes while Effie’s imagination was far from quiet, juggling images of a mysteriously beautiful Alice and a half-naked Oliver. Some logs spat from the fire and she watched as Milton stretched himself out on the carpet, the epitome of a creature at ease. Surely now was the time for her to be frank as well?
‘Oliver, there’s something I ought to tell you, since we are trying to be open with each other.’ She took a gulp of Courvoisier and shifted position ‘Since we are talking about sex, I’m afraid I’ve got a problem.’
‘My dear Effie?’ Oliver sat up. ‘What can you mean?’
‘It’s dreadful to admit, but I’ve got herpes.’
‘Ah.’
‘I know it’s an awful thing, particularly for someone of my age and I only just got it. I had an attack not so long ago’ she rushed on ‘I’m fine now but it can happen again, I know, because I went to this clinic.. and they said there is no real cure and so you might get another attack though they said it wouldn’t be as bad as the first, but it could happen again. Quite likely it will.’
‘Oh I know’ was Oliver’s response ‘a damn nuisance. You poor thing.’
‘You mean you’re not shocked and horrified?’
‘Good lord, no. I’m just sorry. Very unpleasant for you, I’m sure.’
‘Well, yes, it has been a huge worry. Not what I expected at my age.’
‘But no worries on my account, I assure you. These things happen. If it ever crops up again when we’re together and – you know – well, we’ll just deal with it.’
Effie lay back feeling a couple of stone lighter and a wave of gratitude swept over her towards this man who had relieved her of a weight of guilt. At least she could shed one spade-full of the stuff. And they toasted each other in the firelight.