The Older Man (8 page)

She felt a little let down as she replaced the receiver. He didn’t need her any more. She didn’t feel she should attend the funeral, but she couldn’t help wondering how he and Toby were going to feel, and her heart went out to the little boy. And Ellen, who wanted her mother back home and didn’t understand what death meant.

When her parents had left for work and Shane for school, she washed her hair and sat in the sun drying it, did a bit of desultory housework and tried to read a book. The telephone shrilled she flew to answer it, with a premonition that it was Grant.

“Rennie?” he said. “Look, I’m awfully sorry to do this. Can you possibly come here after all? Ellen’s hysterical. She won’t let me take her out of the house. If you have other plans — “

“No. I’ll be right over. I’ll get a taxi.”

By the time she got there, and was let in by a solemn-faced Toby, Grant had calmed Ellen, who was sitting on his knee. There were traces of tears on her flushed cheeks, and she had a thumb in her mouth.

“Hello, Ellen,” Rennie said quietly, sitting down on the sofa beside them.

Ellen turned her head to her father’s shoulder, giving a little hiccup. Grant gave Rennie a look of harassed apology. “Ellen, say hello to Rennie,” he ordered.

“No, it’s all right. Maybe she’ll talk to me later, when she feels better.”

Toby said, “She’s not supposed to suck her thumb.”

“Just for today,” Rennie said. “Sometimes people need something for comfort.”

Toby blinked rapidly. “I don’t suck my thumb.”

“No, you’re older, aren’t you? But you know, even grown-ups need comfort when they’re sad. A hug or a cuddle is nice.”

Toby looked slightly suspicious. “I don’t want a hug,” he stated firmly.

“That’s okay.”

“Sometimes I do,” he conceded. “But not today.”

“That’s fine. I want them sometimes too.”

Ellen lifted her head and turned to look at Rennie. Then she wriggled round and flung her arms about Rennie’s neck.

“Thank you, Ellen,” Rennie said. “That’s a lovely hug.”

When Grant murmured, “Toby and I have to go,” Ellen became tearful again, but after repeated assurances that he would be back in time for tea, in the end reluctantly released him.

Rennie managed to keep her fairly well occupied and reasonably happy, although now and then her mouth would droop and her eyes take on a puzzled and saddened expression, but she asked no questions. Rennie dispensed hugs and stories, and invented games, and hoped that she was doing the right things.

In a corner of the lounge a table had been set up with cups and saucers, and some biscuits and cakes covered by a cloth. Obviously Grant was expecting people to come back after the funeral.

When he arrived, three or four other cars drew up behind his. Ellen ran to the door to meet him as he opened it, wound her arms about his legs and clung. Toby, looking pale and red-eyed, stood stolidly at his father’s side, and Rennie smiled at him and moved forward to take his hand and draw him into the house as Grant picked the little girl up.

“I’ll put on the kettle if you like,” she told Grant.

“Thanks.”

“Want to come and help, Toby?” she asked.

He nodded.

A couple of women came into the kitchen almost immediately. Rennie gathered that they were neighbours. They efficiently poured tea and coffee, and Toby was pressed into service handing round plates of biscuits. “Better to keep him busy, poor mite,” one of the women said practically. Rennie was relieved to see the colour coming back into his cheeks.

Another woman asked Rennie, as she placed a sugar bowl on a tray, “Have you had much experience with children?”

“I’ve done a lot of babysitting,” Rennie said. “Ellen and Toby are very good.”

“Yes, Jean did a fine job. Never raised her voice. And yet the house always looked spotless — well, relatively, anyway. Made me feel like a total slob, and a harridan.”

Rennie smiled. “You were friends?”

“I suppose,” the woman said rather doubtfully. “We got on, and she was always willing to help if I got sick or anything. There aren’t many of us stay-at-home mums left, and we have to stick together. I admired her. It can’t have been easy after her husband left her.”

“Wasn’t it a mutual decision?” Rennie asked involuntarily.

The woman shrugged. “It was before we came to live here. She never said much, but I got the impression that he was a bit of a cold fish. Well, I suppose she was disillusioned. He seems nice enough. Oh,” she added guiltily. “I shouldn’t be gossiping about him to you.”

Rennie stayed in the kitchen as much possible, not wanting to intrude on the grief of people who had known Jean. But she had to emerge eventually, and Grant, still holding Ellen in his arms, introduced her to a number of people before she unobtrusively edged her way out of the room and returned to the kitchen with some cups to wash.

When the visitors had all left, Grant came in holding Ellen’s hand. “Thanks a lot, Rennie,” he said. “I’ll run you home in the car.”

He couldn’t leave the children, he would have to bring them as well. Ellen looked sleepy, Toby had already been subjected to a stressful day, and Grant himself was showing signs of strain about his eyes and mouth.

“No,” she said. “I can find my own way home. But I don’t need to go yet, if there’s something more I can do.”

He smiled wearily. “That’s kind, but we’ve imposed enough. You needn’t stay any longer.”

“Why can’t Rennie stay, Daddy?” Toby came into the room, his feet dragging a little with weariness.

“Because she has to go home sometime, Toby. We mustn’t keep her too long.”

“Can’t she stay for tea?” Ellen asked.

Grant looked at her, and she said swiftly, “Yes, of course I can. I’ll help you feed the children and put them to bed.”

When that was accomplished, and the children had dropped almost immediately off to sleep, Grant and Rennie had coffee in the kitchen.

“I’ll call you a taxi,” Grant said. “You must let me pay your fare for this morning, too.”

It wouldn’t be any use arguing, she knew. “There’s no hurry.”

“Do your people know where you are?” Grant asked her suddenly.

“Yes, of course. I left a message.”

“Good. I don’t know what I’d have done without you. The last few days have been a nightmare. On top of everything else, getting those two settled for the night has taken me hours. Making sure they wash behind their ears and clean their teeth, and finding the right pyjamas. And the first night I scoured the house for Ellen’s rabbit while she screamed till she was blue — ” He shook his head wearily. “Jean had a point when she used to tell me I didn’t know what it was like.”

“I’m glad I could help.”

He said, looking at her with tired eyes, “Yes. I think you are. There are good people in the world.”

“You sound as though it surprises you.”

He shrugged. “Sometimes one forgets.”

“More coffee?” she asked as he emptied his cup.

He stared at it for a moment. “No, thanks. It’s been a strange sort of day.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He shook his head and got up. “I can’t ask you to listen while I unload all my guilts and hang-ups.” He took his cup to the sink and stood with his back to her, staring out the window at the slowly dying sunlight on the garden.

“You can if you want,” Rennie said, pushing back her own chair and going to stand beside him. “If it would help.”

Almost as if talking to himself, he said, “Jean had a — relationship with a man. I never knew him, though I’d gathered there was someone. He was there today. No one had told him. He read about it in the paper. That’s a hell of a way to find out.”

“Yes. But it’s not your fault. Did he — imply that it was?”

“No, nothing like that. He didn’t even say that they’d been close. Toby recognised him as ‘Mummy’s special friend’. But I’d guessed already. I knew by the look on his face. That’s how I should have felt. She was my wife. Once.”

“Did you mind?” Rennie asked softly. “That he was there?”

“No. He had a right. More than I did, perhaps. But he had no — status. It was awkward for him. He didn’t want to come back here. Understandably.”

“It must have been difficult for both of you.”

“I wasn’t married to Jean any more. We hadn’t been close since before Ellen was born. But today I felt very close to her. As though I could — talk to her. Tell her — “

Rennie waited a moment. He was standing with his hands clenched, staring out at the sunset.

“Tell her what?”

“How sorry I was,” he said. “That things had gone wrong for us. That I’d failed her, not made the sort of life for her that she pictured when she married me. That all the bright promise had gone to ashes in the end.”

“I’m sure she knows.”

He turned to face her. “Do you believe in life after death?”

“Don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Did Jean?”

“I don’t think we ever discussed it. There were a lot of things we never discussed. Maybe that was the trouble.”

“What did you say to the children about that?”

“That when people die they can’t be with us any more, that I don’t know where they go, though some people say they go to heaven, which is a very beautiful place where everyone’s happy and there’s no pain and no sickness. And that wherever she is, I’m sure she’s thinking about them and still loves them.” He paused. “It felt very inadequate.”

“Honesty can’t be inadequate, surely,” Rennie said. “They’re bound to grieve, but they have you.”

“Yes, and I’m all they have, for what it’s worth.” He said abruptly, “I’m scared.”

Automatically, Rennie moved closer to him and slid her arms about him. His own arms came up and held her, a long sigh escaping from him. “After the divorce,” he said, his voice muffled, “I tried to maintain contact. But I felt myself growing further and further away from them. Jean was sensitive about what she saw as interference with her childrearing methods. Which was understandable. She had the day-to-day care. If we had different ideas, I had to concede the decision to her, because obviously it was important that we be consistent in our treatment of the children, otherwise they’d only get confused.”

Rennie nodded. “It can’t have been easy for you, though. You must have felt they didn’t belong to you any more.”

“Yes. Increasingly, as time went on. They saw more of the neighbours than they did of me. And now I’m their only parent. I feel desperately inadequate.”

“You’ll do fine,” she assured him. “You’re great with them. Of course they’ll miss their mother, but you’ll make it up to them.”

“Rennie,” he said, rubbing his cheek against her hair. “I shouldn’t be burdening you like this. You’re too young.”

“Rubbish. I’m glad you felt you could talk to me.” In the last few days he had treated her like an equal, even asking for her advice.

“It was right, what you said to Toby about hugs. It’s just what I need, to be held close to someone.”

“I’m glad,” she said again.

“It’s been a long time…” He stopped, and she felt change in him, his arms holding her tightly, his breathing controlled, but there was a new tension in the air.

She looked up then, and caught a look in his eyes that she would not have seen in Toby’s. She looked back gravely, her lips slightly parted, her heart beginning a slow, heavy pounding.

After a while he sighed again, loosened his hold and said, “I’ll call that taxi for you.”

As he dropped his arms from her she said, “You don’t have to.”

“It’s the least I can do — I won’t send you home in a bus.”

“I meant,” Rennie said, “you don’t have to send me home. I could stay — if you like.”

He went very still, looking into her clear, steady gaze. His hand touched her shoulder, moved gently up the side of her neck, and then he laid it against her cheek. “Rennie,” he said. “You’re very generous, but it wouldn’t do. On a number of counts. But thank you.” He bent and kissed the top of her head. “I’ll get that cab.”

Rennie phoned at the end of the following week, in the evening when she hoped Grant would be home. “I don’t want to intrude,” she said, “but I wondered how you and the children were doing.”

“You’re not intruding. And we’re doing quite well. Toby’s shed a few tears and asked some searching questions that I’ve done my best to answer. They’re both a bit quiet, but the woman who’s caring for them in the daytime seems confident they’ll soon be back to normal.”

“Do they like her?”

“I think so. She produced some very good references, and has had children of her own, who’ve left home now. My two have to get used to her, of course. But they’re fairly adaptable kids.”

“I’d like to come and see them sometime, if I may.”

“Of course. I’ll tell Mrs Beddoe you may drop in. You haven’t got yourself a holiday job?”

“Not yet. I’ve been looking, but they’re not easy to get.”

“If I hear of anything that might suit, I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you. If I visit, may I take the children out for a little while? Perhaps to an ice cream parlour or something. Unless you don’t approve.”

“I don’t think an occasional treat will hurt them. You may have to talk Toby into it, though. He’s inclined to be a bit rigid about things that he thinks his mother wouldn’t have allowed them to do.”

“Was Jean very strict?”

“Not unreasonably. A little more than I was, and of course since the divorce she was the one who made the rules and had to enforce them. She was a good mother. I think it’s just Toby’s way of keeping her presence in his life. Understandable, but a bit wearing.”

But when Rennie called at the house and, after meeting the capable-looking woman who introduced herself as Mrs Beddoe, asked the children if they would care to go on a bus trip to a play-park and have some ice cream with her, it was Ellen who said, “No. I don’t want to go.”

“Perhaps there’s somewhere else you’d like to go?” Rennie suggested. “What about the Domain? Have you ever been there? There’s lots of room to play, and we could feed the ducks on the pond.”

“No,” Ellen said unequivocally.

Mrs Beddoe said, “Some of the children round about have asked her to come and play, the mothers have rung up to invite her, but she doesn’t want to. I thought I might take them to the zoo the other day, but no. She’d rather stay home.”