Chapter Two - Finding The Way Back (standard:romance, 8890 words) [2/6] show all parts
Author: Cyrano	Added: May 19 2009	Views/Reads: 2332/1664	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
James and Eileen have prepared dinner for their guests, but dinner is not served.

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story

up.” 

“And who was the woman?” 

Robbo replied. “Don't rightly know boss. She was a nice lookin' bit of
stuff. Ah think he called her Lavinia, but he was doin' that much 
yellin' it was bad to make out.” 

“Where do you two want dropping off?” asked James. 

“Yuz can let us both off together at next corner boss”, said Robbo.
“Just over there next t'pub. Mucky Duck. If the big fella twists me arm 
we'll just have a quick pint to give us an appetite for our tea. Then 
it's a wash and change and off  t'big dart finals night. Good job we've 
no work tomorrow. Can have a nice lie in and breakfast in bed. Some 
chance; with a houseful of screamin' kids”, Robbo grinned at the remote 
possibility. “Anyway, they can't stop you dreamin' can they?” 

“No, we can all dream,” James admitted. “I'm dreaming of getting through
the golf club championship semi-final on Sunday against Shaw.” 

“He's a fair player that fella. Plays off one, doesn't he? You've no
chance,” Robbo said emphatically. “ Y'er wastin' your time turnin' up. 
I always say its best to keep yer dreams down to summat sensible. No 
point in dreamin' about somethin' that's never gonna happen, is there?” 


James was still puzzling over this last statement as he watched them
hasten towards the pub. Pulling back into the traffic he doubted if 
such vigor had gone into their endeavors on behalf of B.U. Ltd. during 
working hours. 

James always enjoyed the short journey home up the valley. There was
never much traffic and even after twenty years of living in the area he 
remained awe-struck by the beauty of the scenery. The river Winder had 
fifty miles to run before it reached the sea and it meandered lazily 
from one side of the valley bottom to the other. On the banks stood 
long stretches of deciduous woodlands forming curved avenues for the 
restless, shimmering water to pass through. Fingers of narrow trees 
reached crookedly up towards the higher ground next to small mountain 
streams that tumbled down and fed the river. The meadowland in the 
valley bottom was rich pasture and black and white Friesian cows lazily 
swished their tails in the late afternoon sunlight. The narrow road 
followed the course of the river through the valley and in places it 
became claustrophobic as gray stone walls and high hedges bordered the 
very edge of the carriageway and mature trees stood threateningly to 
attention at every twist and turn. He strained his eyes to see the 
sheep, small white dots scattered among the rock and bracken strewn 
landscape far above him. 

Visitors to the area marveled at mile upon mile of stone field walls
that broke up the vista with random patterns. Building these walls 
would have represented the work of a lifetime for generations of 
farmers and it must have appeared an endless task. Then as the 
structure of agriculture evolved, farming units became larger and many 
of the walls ceased to be boundaries and fell into disrepair. They were 
left as they fell; strewn heaps of rubble adding to the already harsh 
textures of the haunting landscape. 

As he drove, James thought how very fortunate he was to be able to live
and work in such wonderful surroundings. 

It reminded him why he and Eileen had decided to come to live in this
particular area after spending many years working in the Middle East. 
How he had met Frank for the first time at a cocktail party, and there 
and then they had decided that they would work together. 

He reached the cobbled village streets almost without realization and
drew the car into a space outside the shop. A glance at the church 
clock told him he was thirty minutes late but he knew she would not be 
ready. 

“There's not enough hours in the day, ” she would always tell him. And
to prove this, she would always keep him waiting. He smiled and quietly 
opened the door. 

Being of only average height she had to stand on the very tips of her
toes in order to reach the top shelf. The sweaters in cellophane 
wrappers were difficult to stack neatly and she was at full stretch. 
The familiar ring of the doorbell caused her no alarm. Eileen spoke to 
her unseen visitor without turning her head as she continued her work. 

“Be with you in a moment, just finishing this tidying up.” 

She did not sense his presence. He moved silently, unsuspectingly,
towards her. As his hands slid around her still slender waist he was 
aware of her body becoming taut to his touch and her arms came 
defensively down towards her sides in a reflex action. It was only when 
he slid his cheek against hers he could sense the tension leaving her 
body. Instinctively she recognized his presence and his touch. They had 
after all been married for thirty years. 

“You nearly frightened the wits out of me,” said Eileen. Then she turned
around to face James with a warm and welcoming smile. He leaned forward 
to give her a little peck on the cheek, but as he did so he was 
conscious she was looking beyond him over his shoulder towards the shop 
window. 

“Don't worry, there's nobody watching, anyway it's not against the law
to give your husband a little kiss,”he said, teasing. 

“You're getting dafter as you get older, if that's possible.” 

He knew she was pleased with this attention even though she sought to
suppress her delight. Then it was business as normal. 

“What kept you?  I suppose you've just called in at that golf club on
your way home. That golf, it's between you and your wits end.” She 
turned away to continue with her tidying up. “You haven't forgotten 
about taking me to get a new dress tomorrow have you? If you have it's 
just like you. You wouldn't forget if it was golf though, would you? 
That would be a different matter altogether, wouldn't it?” 

James took advantage in this break in the conversation to make a
response to the battery of statements. 

“The answers to your queries are, first of all; no.” He paused to
interject a moment of silence to give the impression of deep 
consideration before continuing. “Then I will go for...yes. And I will 
plump finally for yes again. Do these correct answers – three in a row, 
qualify me for any bonus points?” he asked, and as an afterthought 
added, “darling.” 

“You needn't darling me James Parr, you're still the biggest flarch I've
ever had the misfortune of coming across,” she said, laughing. “But I 
still love you,” he said, completing the sentence in a soft voice and 
with a broad grin. 

“Are you standing there dreaming or are you going to help me?” She spoke
with a lilting Irish accent. “I could do with a bit of a hand. I'm only 
here on my own, you know, I haven't people running round looking after 
me like you have.” 

“Did you have a good day today in the shop?” James enquired. 

“The usual, all right I suppose.” She spoke without looking up from the
cash register; a frown indicating the deep concentration she required 
even for the simple task of adding up the takings. Administration was 
to her an unnecessary diversion. V.A.T. was completely beyond her 
understanding and her income tax return provided her very patient 
accountant  Richard with his annual professional challenge. 

“Plenty are looking, but not many buying. This fine weather's helped a
bit. Jenny's coming in tomorrow. She's having a hard time with her bus 
so the extra money will come in handy.” 

“Did she say that she had seen me lately?” 

“No she didn't, but she could do with meeting a good man. Somebody to
look after her and help her with her business. It can't be all that 
much fun being on her own.” 

James agreed. 

“You'll have to fix her up with somebody. You sort out folk's ailments,
so there's no reason why you can't turn your hand to matchmaking. 
Sometimes I think you spend more time sorting out people's problems 
than you do selling them clothes. You're the village alternative 
medicine center and a lot of folk just come in to kill time.” 

She lifted her head from the book and spoke solemnly. “My ladies like to
come in for a bit of a chat and they help to pass the time of day. And 
they're always dropping me off a few scones or a half a dozen fresh 
eggs. They sometimes need somebody to talk their little problems over 
with.” 

She completed the paperwork and sighed. “I'll be glad when this weeks
over. I'm tired and I'm ready for a break. You have no idea how much 
I'm looking forward to our holiday. I know it's a good few weeks away 
but just looking forward to it is part of the pleasure.” 

James nodded in agreement. “I'm looking forward to it myself. Sunny
California. It was good of Aidrian to ask us over. He's taking some 
time off, we'll do a bit of touring and we'll get some golf in. With 
your permission, of course, darling.” 

“I thought that golf would come into it somewhere along the line. We
can't go anywhere without golf, can we darling. Now, listen, I'll be a 
few minutes hoovering up so if you wouldn't mind running along to the 
butchers and pick up the meat, I'll be ready for you when you get 
back.” 

James left the shop and turned towards the butchers. He strolled
leisurely past the bank and the newspaper shop enjoying the early 
evening sunshine. Even in the space of those few paces he exchanged 
friendly recognition with four people. 

“Hello, how are you? How are you doing?  Fine thank you. Yes it's a
lovely day. Yes I hope this weather continues." 

He felt very much part of things in this small community, although here
in the village, he recognized that he was better known as the husband 
of Eileen. The reasons did not matter to him, what mattered was the 
reality. 

He collected the meat and returned directly to Eileen's shop diverting
only to put some distance between himself and Danny, the village 
drunkard. From a distance he appeared well dressed and could easily be 
mistaken for a local businessman. The navy blue suit, brown hat, 
totally inappropriate for such a warm day, but the unsteadiness of his 
stance betrayed him. Closer inspection would then reveal the suit to be 
shiny with wear, the shirt to have a dirty tattered collar, his face 
unshaven with red bloodshot eyes. Danny steadied his lurching long 
enough to call James in a loud voice. 

“Lenduz a pund, Jimmy. Pay ye back when I git me giro. Good lad Jimmy.” 

From past experience James knew there was fat chance of repayment on
Danny's “loans”, so he moved speedily away. 

With the realization that no money was to be forthcoming, Danny launched
into a long and fluent torrent of expletives. James smiled and thought 
of the relevance of the old fashioned notices displayed in many of the 
village stores. 

Do not ask for credit as a refusal can often offend. 

Eileen lifted her head and viewed her husband with laser like intensity
as he walked back into the shop. 

“James Parr, have you been to work today in that state?  I'd never
noticed before now what a mess you are, and is that a stain on your 
tie?” 

James's looked down at the ketchup stain and looked up guiltily, but her
mild manner indicated he was only at about four on her disapproval 
scale of one to ten. 

“You should take a leaf out of Frank's book,” she said. 

James took advantage of a pause. “You mean get myself a girl friend? No,
I couldn't handle that,” he said grinning. “Too much trouble at my age 
and I haven't got the energy or the inclination. Had plenty of offers 
though, but I don't think you would really like it. Me running around 
with another woman.” 

Eileen gave him a dark look and spoke sharply. “You‘re being stupid
again James, you know that's not what I meant at all. You should take 
some care in your appearance. You're supposed to be a director of that 
company, take some pride in yourself. I don't know what sort of an 
impression you make with your customers turning up scruffy like that.” 

He continued to grin. “They all think the world of me, just the same as
you do”, he said, and glanced at his watch. “Now, shall we be getting 
away, we need to get this dinner started, the guests will be along in 
just over an hour and a half. Let's be off, you can continue to admire 
me on the way home.” 

A thin smile appeared on her face. “Catch yourself funny”, she said.
“Here, take my bags. I'll put the alarm on and lock up.” 

She handed over two shopping bags and disappeared into the small office
to the rear of the shop and James could hear the bleeping noise of the 
alarm being activated. She emerged and rushed through the shop pulling 
on her jacket as she moved in a race to exit the premises before the 
alarm shrilled out. Then she crossed the road and jumped into the car. 

“This things a proper disgrace, I thought you would have it cleaned for
tomorrow.” 

“These white cars show up all the dirt.” James replied. 

“You said that about the black one, and the red one before that.
Anyway,” she said looking around, “the inside is just as bad. What 
color are you going to blame that on? Look at those dirty boot marks on 
the floor and I suppose you were forced to carry cement on the back 
seat. James,” she sighed, “you're hopeless.” 

He grimaced and pulled away from the kerb, driving slowly around the
one-way system before gathering speed and heading the two miles home. 
They traveled comfortably together in silence. There was no traffic on 
the road and his attention wandered. He stole a quick glance towards 
her. She looked ahead silently, her eyes fixed on the road, unusually 
not chattering away. He was curious to know what she was thinking but 
she had a mind like a butterfly and so he was never sure. He returned 
his eyes to the road and smiled. The constant and unremitting criticism 
of his untidiness brought him amusement. She had fought a constant 
battle throughout their marriage to make him look smarter. He never 
understood why he should not accede to her wishes but he had resisted 
and would continue to do so. She could not argue her case in absolute 
terms and had to resort to making comparisons. She was very fond of 
Frank and in matters of appearance he was her unknowing ally. The leaf 
in Frank's book she had spoken of earlier in the shop had been a 
reference to his colleague's obsession with smart clothing and 
grooming. Frank did not have to try very hard to look smart. He could 
have walked out of an Oxfam shop with a worn jacket and a pair of old 
corduroy trousers and still looked better than James wearing an outfit 
from Saville Row! Tall, broad shouldered and slender, he was the stuff 
magazine advertiser's dreamt of. 

James was not. Standing five feet and eight inches high, he did not
think, contrary to opinion of his wife, that a weight just in excess of 
fourteen stones was too high. It was true he had never, despite 
constant searching, come across a weight/height chart that had 
commented favorably upon the virtue of these particular statistics, but 
his mother had always told him he was heavy boned. An unfortunate freak 
of nature, a minor blemish in his creation. But he reassured himself 
that nature had more than compensated for this error by giving him a 
good brain and this, he figured, was infinitely more important. He 
didn't require broadcasting to the world what a splendid fellow he was, 
he knew it himself and that was good enough. He had enjoyed a 
university education and this had brought with it the excitement of 
living independently in a city and away from the mining village for the 
first time. He had spent time studying building at a leading 
architectural school in London and this change of direction from 
economics at university had been challenging. His employer had sent him 
to business school and whilst his selection had been very flattering he 
had treated the year with cynicism. He had traveled widely, held 
important positions and all in all, had enjoyed a successful life. At 
least, he thought so. 

Frank had done none of these things. He had never traveled apart from
the annual family summer holidays and to  “conferences” and “trade 
fairs” which he visited with his private and personal secretary, 
Margaret, particularly if they involved overnight stays. His schooling 
had ended on his sixteenth birthday followed by employment with his 
father. The limited horizons of these formative years expanded in 
maturity into a great desire to show the world what a splendid fellow 
he was. He joined the Parish council, became a magistrate, a Rotarian, 
and his handshake changed after induction on the Square, and he dressed 
like a tailor's dummy. But not withstanding all of this self promotion, 
most important of all to Frank was his need to pull the woman, and most 
woman, he thought, were attracted to well dressed men. 

“You haven't been listening to a word that I've been saying.” 

Eileen's words brought his day dreaming to an abrupt end. He was
disappointed he had been caught out as he could normally provide 
automatic responses to her conversation over the whole journey. There 
must have been a ‘no' when there should have been a ‘yes' or a ‘yes' 
when there should have been a ‘no'. Perhaps the great brain was running 
below par and he would have to smarten himself up after all. 

This issue remained unresolved in his mind as they entered the driveway
to the house. 

“The lawn needs doing, it's a proper disgrace,” said Eileen and this
introduced another touch of reality into his world. “You'd be far 
better off doing that on Sunday instead of playing golf.” 

As far as he was aware she had not even turned her head to look at the
lawn. He knew she would have no need to do so and that she was certain 
to be perfectly accurate in what she had said. The large sweeping lawns 
had seemed a good idea after James had laid them but he gave no thought 
to future maintenance. He would not have felt badly of them if the 
lawns had taken it upon themselves to telephone the lawn help-line. 

“Its not that bad. I've seen it worse. I'll give it a run over on Sunday
afternoon when I get back,” he said, and turned towards his wife. “Let 
me give you a hand that shopping.” 

They walked together up the sandstone path. The early evening sun was
falling upon the front elevation of the house emphasizing the uneven 
texture of the light brown stone walls of the former barn. The 
traditional sash windows were arranged randomly with no symmetry but 
rather a sense of balance and proportion. It was a pleasing façade and 
an arrangement, which successfully compromised the origins of the 
building whilst making concessions to its new utility. In addition to 
the six bedrooms and three bathrooms, they had four reception rooms on 
the ground floor and the usual offices of kitchens, cloaks, and utility 
rooms. They both enjoyed the space but James thought they rattled 
around a bit when there was only the two of them in the house. It was 
however ideal for entertaining and they both loved guests. 

They entered through the front door and clattered across the bare oak
planking of the hallway with the minstrel's gallery above. Once in the 
kitchen, James lifted the shopping bags onto the worktop. 

“Shall I make tea or coffee?” 

Eileen thought she deserved better. “Is that all that's on offer? I
could murder a gin and tonic. You get one made while I get these bags 
sorted out. And do it right with ice and lemon.” 

“Okay love. I could murder one myself, but we'd better make it a
quickie; need to get cracking on the meal. Don't want to be late for 
the good vicar. By God, those guys can scoff.  I often think that's 
what they get taught at college.” James smiled. “It'll be up there, 
right next to bible studies.” 

She looked over to him as the last of the groceries were packed away. 

“James,” she gasped, “he's a lovely man. Don't be blasphemous, he loves
coming round here.” 

“Well don't be plastered when he arrives,” said James, jokingly. 

“Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” she cried with some venom. “I'm only after
having one little drink and that's hardly passed me lips, and you're 
complaining already. One of these days I'll give you something to 
complain about.” Her Irish heritage shone through. 

James was curious to find out what this was likely to be, but he thought
better of pursuing his enquiry. 

Eileen's storm abated as quickly as it had arisen. Such was her nature,
quick in temper and equally quick in conciliation. 

“Put the oven on and let it heat up,” she said. ”And then you get the
potato bake made and it can go in the oven along with the chops. I'll 
get the table set. We'll eat in the new family room; it's such a nice 
evening. Sure they can't expect me to work and make a meal at the same 
time can they?” 

As they worked together he looked back over the past week and thought
how they had enjoyed each other's companionship. Within any marriage 
the nature of the relationship gradually changes. Theirs was maturing 
and it had settled into a pattern, but every now and then they changed 
this routine. Nothing very much and nothing planned, just a casual 
remark. 

“The evenings are getting brighter,” she had said. “Why don't we start
walking and get fit ?” 

They had embarked together upon this latest in a long series of fitness
campaigns on Wednesday evening, kicking off with a gentle walk for a 
couple of miles along the road at the foot of the fells.  Thursday 
evening brought a spin out in the car to the coast and then a walk on 
the beach; even though it had been overcast and rain had threatened. On 
the way back to the car they were unable to resist the appetizing smell 
drifting through the open doorway of a chip shop. Their exertions had 
earned them a treat, and they finished up in a lay by, eating fish and 
chips out of newspaper. Simple pleasures shared without need of 
expressions of gratitude, but unsaid feelings of contentment. These had 
been pleasant hours spent together, away from the house, away from the 
all-intrusive television set. 

Eileen returned to the kitchen and looked down at her wristwatch. 

“How's the time going? Are we alright? I've laid the table, now all I
want you to do is to open the wine and get yourself ready. Tidy 
yourself up for once. Go and have a shower and wash your hair, it's 
looking greasy. And don't leave it to the last minute.” 

James finished slicing the cabbage and was rinsing out the colander. 

“Go on, stop messing about, go and get ready. I've put a clean shirt out
and wear a tie tonight, the other two will be. There's some clean socks 
and your trousers are hanging up back from the cleaners.” 

She gave him a push to get him moving and as he went through the door he
heard her parting shot, “And don't forget to wash your hair.” 

‘And don't forget to wash behind your ears, and don't forget to wash
your neck, and don't forget to put on some clean underpants in case a 
bus knocks you over and you have to go to hospital,' were mumbled 
instructions to himself as he climbed the stairs. When he returned a 
few minutes later he found Eileen in the family room lighting candles. 
She was preoccupied and the new directives came from over her shoulder. 


“Put some nice background music on, but not too loud; you always have it
on too loud.” 

James thought he would tease her a little. Immediately prior to the
arrival of guests she was tense and short tempered. With the formal 
inflexion of a Radio Three announcer he began to speak. 

“Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen, the concert tonight will be in
celebration of the arrival of Spring and for this I have chosen the 
Beethoven Symphony No 6 in F Major Opus 68, and quite naturally enough 
we will commence with the 1st movement, the allegro. I will turn the 
volume control well down as we have received some complaints from one 
of our regular listeners, a Mrs. Eileen Parr living in the Winder 
valley that we broadcast too loudly. Nevertheless,” the announcer 
continued, “I do hope you enjoy this piece and invite you to sit back, 
relax and enjoy listening to the world famous Berlin Philharmonic 
Orchestra under the direction of Herbert von Karajan.” 

He had barely concluded when the flashing green eyes of the wife of the
announcer bore upon him and with a dark look made a further 
announcement. 

“You're being stupid again,” she spoke sharply. “Christ, you can be so
irritating when you want to be. We don't want that stupid classical 
stuff tonight, it gets on my nerves, it's too serious, there's never 
much of a tune in it. Put some of that nice Irish music on, you know 
that tape I bought you for Christmas. Put that on and don't be so 
bloody stupid.” 

James received this with equanimity. 

“It was a lovely present, much appreciated,” he said, “and I would love
to put it on for you, but somebody has borrowed it and not returned it. 
But as soon as you do give me it back I will play it for you, darling.” 
He then selected a CD and loaded it into the hi-fi. 

“This will do nicely. Mark Knopfler playing some movie music, there's
some Irish stuff, you'll enjoy this.”  The haunting melody of the Irish 
Boy began to fill the room and the earlier discussion of classical 
music brought him a fond memory. 

He had overheard Eileen chatting to the headmaster of the local private
school at a cocktail party only a few weeks previously. They had been 
discussing music and she had assumed in these, what she perceived to be 
elevated social circles, a stated love for the classics would impress. 
She indeed listened to little else on the radio in the shop during the 
day. Talking in vague terms brought no challenge and no threat to her 
complete lack of knowledge on the subject. James arrived as the Head 
master, a serious man in all respects, was politely responding to her 
enthusiasm on what transpired to be his very favorite topic, by asking 
her to name one or two of her favorite pieces. And it appeared that 
simply the name of the composer, which would have been a difficult 
enough problem for her, was not sufficient information. He wanted more. 
He wanted to know about the orchestra, the studio, the preferred 
soloist and in all probability, the name of the woman who made the tea 
for the players. And how many lumps of sugar the conductor took in his 
brew. 

“If one really falls in love with a piece, one owes it to ones self to
really get to know about it, doesn't one? Don't you think?” He put his 
sherry glass to lips and sipped gently whilst blinking his eyes behind 
thick horned rimmed spectacles and looked intently at Eileen, her great 
interest in such matters having come to him as a bit of a surprise. 

Her immediate lack of a response, other than a frown and thoughtful
look, unknown to him masking her panic, was interpreted by him as her 
obvious difficulty in narrowing the field down a bit. 

“Yes, I can see your problem,” said the headmaster, “one has so many
choices, doesn't one? One finds ones choices changing all the time, and 
one has different favorites for different occasions doesn't one? But 
give me a little clue, just a hint of the flavor of your taste.” 

She was cornered and had to reply but what to say eluded her. The
headmaster stared unblinking at her as a stoat eyeballing a rabbit. She 
turned around in a desperate move and to her relief found James at her 
shoulder. Ever opportunist in these situations she moved quickly to 
present him in a prominent position then linked her arm into his in a 
display of overt unity. They were together, they were one, they would 
speak as one, and in this case, the one would be James. 

“Eileen was saying how she has a deep love for classical music,” he
spoke to James with no introduction. “Are you fortunate enough to share 
this love together? It's so nice when one can share ones passions. 
Don't you think?” 

The mention of the word passion evoked a somewhat different connotation
in James' mind but he nodded sagely in agreement. 

“Yes we do share passion”, agreed James, but then for the sake of
accuracy he felt the need to add on the word “occasionally”. He felt a 
sharp dig in his ribs as he turned grinning to his wife. She pursed her 
lips in admonishment but the headmaster was oblivious to this and had 
already decided he had spent enough time with them. There was serious 
networking to do and charm and sincerity to ooze to other guests. 

“Must circulate, must be off, people to see, ha ha, simply lovely to see
you both again. Do enjoy yourselves and feel free to have another 
sausage roll.” 

He had given them a thin smile, sipped at his sherry, stretched his
scraggy neck to its full extent, waved a hand at an imaginary 
recognition, and abandoned them. 

“There's somebody at the door,” Eileen said and moved towards the
hallway. “I'll go and let them in. You come and fix the drinks.” And as 
a parting shot in case he had already forgotten. “And shape yourself.” 

Frank was standing in the hallway wearing a smart blazer and cravat with
a crisp white shirt. His military moustache curled as he folded Eileen 
into his arms. 

Then he took a step back. 

“Darling you look absolutely gorgeous. I've brought you a bottle of
champers to celebrate this little event. By God James, you're a very 
lucky man.” 

Wilma, his wife, stood quietly, her long, plain, black dress
complemented to perfection her long, gaunt, expressionless face and her 
jet black hair was fiercely cut across a prominent forehead giving the 
image of a helmeted Norman warrior. 

“Just back from South America, Wilma?” said James to the Eco warrior. 

“And how were the toads in Brazil?” he continued lightly. 

She looked at him intently with sunken dark eyes before replying. 

“I'm very worried about the narrow mouthed toads, James. They need trees
to exist and with the rain forest being depleted I'm getting very 
concerned about their long-term existence. I've already instructed 
Frank not to buy any more Brazilian hardwood, and I was extremely upset 
when he told me you had imported a large quantity for the this new 
supermarket” 

“Oh,” said James. 

“Enough of this light hearted banter,” said Frank rolling his eyes, “I'm
sure James is dying to get us a couple of stiff gin and tonics.” 

“I'll have a mineral water, but check the label James, I want no
additives,” said Wilma 

“Christ Almighty,” muttered Frank. “She's a real bundle of fun to take
out.” Then as James passed he whispered, “just bloody ignore her, she 
won't know the difference.” 

James proceeded to the kitchen and fixed the drinks. Then he lifted the
saucepan lid to check the cabbage and had a peep into the oven. The 
arrival of his other guest was unnoticed until he turned around. 

“Hello James, walked straight in, a bit late, sorry, Agnes has a
migraine and can't make it so I had to fix her up some tablets.” The 
vicar handed a bunch of flowers to James but then withdrew them. “No 
I'd better give them directly to Eileen.” He shook his head. “She's not 
been herself for some time now, I've looked at her but there doesn't 
seem to be any thing apparent, it's most worrying.” 

Graham had a clean pink round face and it appeared to James quite
amazing that so many of the men of the cloth had clean, pink faces. He 
decided if he ever wanted to get a clean pink face, he would have to 
join the church. 

“Don't worry Graham,” said James, “I'm sure it can't be that bad, after
all you were a medicine man, you would have spotted anything serious. 
Here, take one of these gin and tonics and cheer yourself up." 

He pushed a glass towards Graham who grasped it with enthusiasm. 

“I'll follow you into the family room. You know where to go.” 

It was a couple of minutes before James followed him, drinks in hand:
Eileen was holding a seminar on alternative medicine. She was 
explaining to three eager listeners her latest case. Although not 
officially bound to the Hippocratic oath she took the question of 
confidentiality very seriously indeed, changing names to protect the 
innocent. They sat engrossed and Frank and Wilma stretched out hands to 
receive the drinks without sparing a sideways glance, not daring to 
take their eyes away for a single moment lest they should miss any part 
of the prognosis. 

“Well I told her she should go straight down to the doctors, in fact I
made her use the phone in the shop.” 

The local health center received a number of referrals from the dress
shop. An unorthodox arrangement, James had often thought, but it 
appeared to be successful. 

“When she came to the shop the next day,” said Eileen now in full flow,“
they told her she was a diabetic. After all those years, can you 
imagine it?” 

Was this a minor criticism of her colleagues in the other branch of the
health service? James thought not. Professional consultants rarely 
criticized each other in public. 

“And now she has to give herself injections every day. Every day mark
you.” 

Her audience nodded gravely in agreement and she continued. “It can't be
easy for her. But they say she has got to have that insulation. She 
can't miss one day, not even one.” 

James interrupted. “Darling, the dinner's ready for you to serve up. You
go through and give me a call if you need me.” 

She rose to her feet and hurriedly left the room. Two guests chortled;
Wilma did not. 

“Well at least whoever she is talking about will keep nice and warm,”
commented James. “And that won't do her any harm.” 

“Sorry James, couldn't help it,” Frank grinned. “We could hardly keep
our faces straight. She's so funny. She has me in stitches with some of 
the things she comes out with.” 

Wilma did not smile. “I think diabetes is a curse of modern living and
the product of an unhealthy diet,” she commented. 

“Eileen never quite manages to grasp the technical words,” said Graham,
giggling. ”She seems to think if it sounds about the same, it means 
about the same. She does make me laugh. She comes out with some real 
pearls of wisdom.” 

“You should get her to do your sermons for you, you would give them all
a good laugh,” said Frank. 

They chatted for a few minutes about the weather, families, and of
course, the golf, just small talk while sipping gin and tonic. 

Wilma looked at her watch. 

“She's been through there a long time. Do you think she needs any help?”
She said. 

“No, she's probably waiting for me. I should have gone through before
now. I'd better get moving to save myself a telling off, back in a 
minute, you'll just have to excuse me.”  James left his guests. 

He saw her standing along side the hob when he walked into the kitchen
and he thought he had caught her picking at the food before it was 
served. The very thing she scolded him for. But then he looked more 
closely and became less certain. She turned both hands outwards and 
shrugged her shoulders and then closed her eyes and smiled. 

“Caught you at it, have I?” he said, softly.  “What is it darling, are
you alright?  Speak to me, say something, darling.” 

“Jshu    jshu .”  The words would not come from her lips. She tried
again. “Jshu  jshu”. Incoherent words as though the uttering of a 
drunkard, but he knew she was not drunk. He placed both of his hands 
gently on her shoulders. Her head drooped to her chest and she stumbled 
against him. 

“Come on darling,” he said, tenderly. Putting an arm around her shoulder
to give more secure support. “We'll pop into the study and you can sit 
down for a minute. Here we go.” 

They staggered slowly and unsteadily through the doorway. He turned her
round to face him so he could gently lower her onto the leather 
chesterfield chair. Her unsupported head lay on the back of the chair 
and her eyes were closed. Her body lay in a sprawling relaxed posture, 
arms by her sides within the confines of the arm rests. Her face was 
ashen and pallid. 

She made an attempt to get up. James gently restrained her and
repositioned her in the chair to prevent her sliding to the floor. 

“Jshu guests   jshu guests”. Again she weakly struggled to speak and her
eyes remained closed. 

“Don't worry about the guests darling, I'm going to get Graham to come
and see you, I think you've had a little turn, you've fainted. I won't 
be a minute.” 

He walked quickly to the family room. 

“Excuse me butting in.” He turned to Graham and spoke shakily. 

“Eileen's collapsed.  She's in the study. I don't know how bad it is,
but she's fainted a few times before.” 

He could recall only one previous occasion and his subconscious was
working to suppress stark reality. 

Graham put his drink down on the small table, looked up and saw anxiety
etched on the face of his friend. 

“Right away,” he said, “it won't be anything serious, she seems in good
form tonight." 

Wilma looked up at James. “Is there anything we can do James? Will the
dinner be all right, do you want me to keep an eye on it?” 

“No,” replied James. “The meal's okay, there's nothing taking any harm.
If you'll excuse me, I'll just go and see how she's doing.” 

He quickly left the room and walked purposefully through the hallway. 

“I need a dish and a towel,” said Graham. “Bring them as fast as you
can. She's trying to bring something up.” 

He knelt on the floor in front of her looking intently at her eyes with
one hand placed on her brow and his finger and thumb pressed against 
her wrist. When James returned, he motioned with a movement of his 
head.  “Over there” he said and he indicated to put the towel on her 
chest and the dish to be held close to her mouth. His eyes did not 
leave her. 

“What do you think it is? Is it anything serious?” asked James, his
voice feathering. 

“I don't know, there's a bit if a virus going round, she may have caught
it in with being in the shop, but I don't know. To be on the safe side 
you had better call out the doctor. I don't know who's on duty, but 
there'll be a number for you to ring if you call the health center. You 
go ahead, I'll stay here.” 

James looked down at his wife and leant over her and placed his lips on
her forehead. There was no response and her brow was cold and icy. He 
straightened up and looked down at Graham who was gently and tenderly 
stroking her right hand, his eyes still transfixed upon her. 

The telephone call brought a recorded message, a home number to ring in
case of emergency. There had been previous occasions when Eileen had 
called out the duty doctor. When her little granddaughter Nora, was 
staying, the slightest sniffle or rise in body temperature caused 
Eileen to rush to the telephone. But this was different, Graham had 
been a general practitioner before turning to the church, and he knew 
about these things. 

“Sorry to have to trouble you, this is James Parr,” he paused as his
greeting was acknowledged. “It's about Eileen. Yes, we think she's 
fainted; Graham's here, he's with her now, but he thinks you should 
come and see her." He carried the telephone to the study doorway. “No, 
she's quite still, Yes I think she has vomited, but nothing much. 
That's very good of you; see you in a few minutes. Thank you very 
much." Graham looked up. 

“ Did you get through? I'll be the happier when somebody takes a look at
her." 

“Its Mary Iron, she'll be round in a minute,” said James. “She sounded
surprised, she had called into the shop this afternoon for some tights 
and come out with a dress!” He glanced smiling down at Eileen, “That's 
more like my girl. He looked at his watch, “She won't be long now." 

“James, you'd better go through and see to Frank and Wilma, they'll be
wondering what's happening." 

“What can I tell them?” James looked to Graham for guidance. 

“Just say she's fainted and you've called the doctor. That's all you can
say." 

Frank and Wilma were sitting upright on the edge of their seats
clutching empty tumblers, when he entered the room. They both looked up 
eager for information and he could see anxiety etched on their faces. 

“We've sent for the doctor, she'll be here any minute now,” he reported.
“Graham thinks she's fainted but can't be sure. He wants the doctor to 
come and look at her, just to be on the safe side.” He shrugged his 
shoulders. “That's all I can tell you.” He offered to fill up their 
glasses. 

Frank put a hand over the top of his tumbler and shook his head. 

“No, I don't think we should have any more,” he turned to Wilma and
stood up. “I really think we should be getting off and leave you to it, 
don't you?” 

James realized it was an uncomfortable situation for them and there was
nothing they could do. 

“Can I turn the dinner off?” offered Wilma. 

“No thanks, I've seen to that. Everything's alright, but thanks any
way.” 

“Look,” said Frank, “we'll let ourselves out. You will give us a call to
let us know how she is. We'll be expecting to hear from you later, 
won't we Wilma?” 

James accompanied them to the front door, and watched as they drove
away." 

“Don't forget now. It doesn't matter what time, we'll wait up for you,”
shouted Frank from the car. 

James waved an acknowledgement with a hurried shake of his hand, but he
was already turning away from them to be beside Eileen. Graham still 
knelt before the helpless figure and he stroked her hand tenderly. 

“Come on Eileen, come on now, you'll be alright, come on Eileen, that's
my girl.” 

He did not look around to see James and his eyes did not leave her face.


James stood silently against the wall, all he could do was to wait, and
hope. 

He had no idea how much time had elapsed before the silent vigil was
interrupted by a knock on the door. He called loudly in the direction 
of the hallway. 

“Come in doctor, we're through here in the study” He ushered her into
the room. Graham stood up and moved to one side in order that Dr. Mary 
could take his place. 

Mary felt Eileen's pulse as she questioned the two men. “How long ago
did she collapse? Was there any warning?” She turned and looked at them 
for answers. She was calm and her voice low and flat. Then she reached 
into her Gladstone bag and pulled out a stethoscope. Her eyes narrowed 
with concentration as she probed around Eileen's chest. The she 
carefully lifted Eileen's eyelids and reached upwards to peer into her 
eyes. A hand placed to her brow concluded the brief examination and as 
she stood to her feet she rested her stethoscope around her neck. She 
raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips as she gave her conclusion. The 
reassurance they sought was not forthcoming. 

“I don't know”, she said, gently shaking her head, “I can't really tell
you anything; she's lost consciousness, she has a weak pulse rate, but 
that's all I can say. I don't know what's gone on, I don't know how bad 
she may be damaged." The tone of her voice became brusque as she 
continued. “I'll arrange for an ambulance. We need to get her to 
hospital right away for tests. Graham, just keep an eye on her while I 
make the arrangements.” Graham nodded his agreement. “Where's the 
phone, James? 

“Through here, I'll show you." 

James led her through the door and lifted up the receiver. She rummaged
in her handbag and pulled out a leather notebook. He could hear her 
speak to someone at the ambulance station. The first call was brief. 
She looked enquiringly towards James. “Does Eileen have private medical 
insurance? It would be useful if she did. I think they will want to do 
tests right away, and with it being the weekend they will be able to 
move quicker if its done privately.” 

James did not react immediately to this. Why the hell should anybody
want private medical insurance for an emergency and what the hell do I 
pay my stamp for every week?  His view on private healthcare was that 
it was for the treatment of hernias, little breasts, scraggy necks, big 
arses, and nose jobs, not for matters of life and death. Pity the poor 
with no medical insurance, they'd best not take seriously ill at 
weekends, or God help them. His internal tirade came to an end. 

“Well James, have you?” she persisted. 

“Yes, I'd almost forgotten, she's on my company policy, joined last
year”, he said, eventually. “I'll get you the card. I think I know 
where it is." 

When he returned the doctor was engaged in conversation with a
specialist at the city hospital. She reached out for the medical card 
and relayed the details into the telephone. James returned to the study 
and went over to Eileen and kissed her tenderly on her forehead. 

“You'll be okay darling, nothing to worry about, a couple of days rest,
a few tests, then you'll be as right as rain.” And as he took her hand, 
“the rest will do you good.” 

“What will I need to take with me?” James asked Graham. “Shall I get
some of things together in a grip? Some underclothes or nightclothes in 
case she's in for a few days.” He was not thinking coherently and he 
repeated. “Shall I take her night gown?  Money, will she need 
money...toothpaste?” 

Graham put his arm around James. He had been a doctor and such
situations were familiar to him. He spoke calmly. “Don't worry, she's 
being well looked after, you don't need to take anything.” Then he 
looked up to Mary. “Is everything organized?” 

Mary nodded. 

“Yes, it's all sorted out, they're expecting her, they'll be ready. I've
written a note for the ambulance man to take with him, but I've 
explained over the phone. They won't be long now.” She looked at her 
watch. “They're just along the road, it'll only take them a minute.” 

James, Graham and Mary stood together in the study in silence with
nothing to do but wait, each with private thoughts. 

They heard the siren of the ambulance in the distance before it turned
noisily into the driveway. Within a few seconds the two ambulance 
attendants came into the study with a folded stretcher and laid it on 
the floor. Doctor Mary did not require instructing the men. A nod of 
the head was sufficient to tell them to commence. They gently lowered 
Eileen from her chair and onto the stretcher. 

“Come on Eileen lass, easy does it,” softly spoken words whispered to
her by one of her friends from the local ambulance service. “We'll look 
after you, won't we Bill?” He said to his kneeling partner and they 
wrapped a blanket around the limp body. 

“Aye we'll do just that, we'll look after you love,” whispered his
colleague. 

“Private hospital, take this note, they're expecting you.” 

Mary gave her instructions and she watched as the two men nodded their
understanding. They carefully lifted Eileen. Mary turned away from 
James as though seeking to conceal the words from him, and spoke softly 
to the two men. 

“Go as quickly as you can, it's an emergency. She's in a bad way,” she
said. 

Grim faced, they maneuvered the stretcher through the narrow doorway,
down the path and into the vehicle. Within a few moments the shrill 
wail of the siren shattered again the silence of the warm Spring 
evening. 


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