Chapter 24
‘What on earth’s the matter, Lewis? You look like someone’s died,’ said Charlotte when Lew walked in from work that Sunday afternoon.
‘Someone did,’ replied Lew. ‘One of the traders. Jackpot. Lovely man, dealt in ceramics.’
‘Oh,’ said Charlotte, as if a trader constituted a lesser being. She was careful to leave a respectful few seconds of silence before speaking again.
‘So have you had any more thoughts about the Alaskan cruise with Patrick and Reg?’
Lew lifted his head to stare at her in disbelief.
Charlotte’s perfectly arched eyebrows tried to raise, but the secretly purchased Botox in her forehead forbade it. ‘What are you looking at me like that for? You told me this morning you were going to think about it and let me know today.’
‘No, you said you were going to let me think about it when I told you absolutely no. And even if I’d had a severe knock to the head that changed my mind, today has not been the day for thinking about whale-watching with Regina.’ His voice carried a rare snap in it.
‘I don’t know why you’re so upset,’ said Charlotte indignantly. ‘It’s not as if you knew this . . . Jackpot man that well, is it?’
‘No, Charlotte, I didn’t know him well,’ replied Lew, ‘but it did bring it home to me once again how fragile life is.’
It hadn’t just reminded him with a gentle tap, but with the thump of a sledgehammer. He’d been brought back from the brink though; old Jack hadn’t. Well, not even ‘old’ Jack. He’d only just tipped over into his sixties and despite the fact a fug of cigarette smoke hung around him, Jack was like an ox, strong, hearty, full of life. That stroke hadn’t just killed him, it had felled him like a well-placed axe on a Californian Redwood. No, today had not been a day for thinking about being imprisoned on a ship with Regina and Patrick. A holiday was supposed to be relaxing and unwinding. Patrick might be great fun to spend time with, but having to endure Regina’s company for fourteen nights would pull every nerve Lew had so tightly he could have cut cheese with them.
Charlotte huffed impatiently. ‘I really want to go to Alaska.’
‘I would rather yank out both of my lungs and use them as an accordion,’ said Lew, slipping off his jacket.
‘Lewis. How could you say such a thing about a holiday with our friends.’
‘Quite easily,’ said Lew. ‘Having dinner with the Sheffields is one thing, spending a fortnight with them glued to our side is another.’
‘I would have thought that if anything, today would have taught you to grab the bull by the horns and live a bit,’ said Charlotte, rather pleased with herself for thinking of that.
‘Precisely,’ Lew nodded. ‘To enjoy ourselves and destress, which is why I wouldn’t go on holiday with Patrick and Regina if they paid for us to go and threw the spending money in as well. And, in case you’ve forgotten, I don’t need someone else’s death to remind me of seizing the day, seeing as I almost had one of my own.’
‘Of course I hadn’t forgotten,’ said Charlotte quickly. ‘What do you take me for? I’ll tell them no. I’ll make something up and say that you can’t take the time off.’
‘We will have a nice holiday, just the two of us. Let’s book a few nights in Venice. How does the Cipriani sound?’
‘Venice again?’ said Charlotte with a curled lip. ‘God, no.’
And Lew thought, She’s turning more and more into Regina with every day that passes.
*
‘You’re very sullen,’ Stephen remarked at dinner. ‘I’ve asked you twice to pass the condiments and twice you’ve ignored me.’
‘Sorry,’ Bonnie replied and passed over the wire basket which sat next to her containing the salt, pepper, vinegar and oil.
‘Thank you. What on earth is the matter, Bonita?’ Stephen said impatiently as he reached over to take it from her.
‘One of the traders died,’ Bonnie answered him. ‘I’ve known him for years.’
‘Oh,’ said Stephen as if he’d expected more serious news. ‘Well, we all have to go at some point.’
Bonnie didn’t reply to that banal observation but carried on eating a Sunday roast she had no appetite for.
‘And why are you so upset about it?’ Stephen pressed, after a minute or so.
‘I liked him,’ said Bonnie. ‘I liked him very much. He was a good man, a decent man. And the most knowledgeable person ever about ceramics.’
‘Is he survived by a family?’ asked Stephen, dabbing his mouth with the kitchen roll square tucked in the top of his shirt.
‘Yes. A daughter. She was only married last month,’ said Bonnie, putting down her knife and fork because the food was just rolling around in her mouth protesting against being swallowed.
‘I do wonder how all these traders of yours manage to earn their living. I mean, is there actually money in dealing with pots?’ He gave the words ‘traders’ and ‘pots’ all the disdain he could heap onto them.
Bonnie tried to keep the annoyance out of her voice as she delivered the line that she hoped would wound his snobbery gland. ‘Yes, I imagine there is, seeing as Jack drove around in a brand new Bentley.’
‘Hmm,’ mused Stephen, wrinkling up his nose as if there was a bad smell underneath it. ‘Fools and their money are soon parted.’
They ate the rest of their meal in silence. Then Stephen picked up his newspaper and went out into the garden leaving Bonnie to clear the table. Though Stephen wanted his wife to work full-time, at home he expected her to act like a traditional wife. His manly duties covered the gardening, the bulb-changing and general maintenance, the woman did the washing, ironing, cleaning.
As Bonnie filled up the sink with warm soapy water, she thought about Jack. He’d only just gone sixty-two and was far too young to leave the earth. But at least he’d lived. He’d been married to the same woman for over thirty years and he idolised his daughter. He had a big house and a series of expensive cars, he’d travelled all over the world and had a consuming passion for ceramics. He’d wrung the juice out of his life and drank it greedily. And if you died tomorrow, could you say the same? asked a voice in Bonnie’s head. The answer was a very resounding no.
She couldn’t wait to leave and start a new life. The day when all the planets aligned for her and she found a house that she could afford couldn’t be that far away now, surely. But she knew she would be taking a huge risk in leaving because it wasn’t financial worries or fear of the unknown that had really held her back, there was something else. Something that had stopped her from going before, four years ago when she’d had her bags packed and was about to walk out of the door for good. That was the something she was most afraid of.