John Davis - Seize the Reckless Wind

Say what? Please don’t leave? … I love you? …

‘Hullo,’ he said.

‘Hullo. You’re back early! Have a good trip?’

‘Is Cathy asleep yet?’

‘Yes, don’t disturb her, please. Did you have a good trip?’

Oh Cathy. He just wanted to be with her. Each day was precious. ‘The homeward-bound cargo didn’t show up.’

‘So. More pineapples, is it?’

‘No pineapples, either. Tomatoes. Can I get you a drink?’

‘One day you’re going to find yourself stuck with twenty-eight tons of rotting tomatoes. Did Dolores find a buyer?’

‘Yes.’

‘God, you take chances.’

‘Will you have a drink if I light a fire?’

‘No, it’s too early. You go ahead.’

Oh God, he did not want to stay in the emptying house, and he did not want to go out. ‘Would you like to go to The Rabbit? I’ll ask one of the Todd children to babysit.’

‘No, you go ahead. I’m awfully busy.’

She was very businesslike. The paintings were the first to go, and the walls shrieked at him. For days the paintings stood stacked: then, when he came back from a trip, they were gone.

‘Malcolm Todd built me some crates. The rest I farmed out, for safe-keeping.’

For safe-keeping? Till when? And despite himself he felt the hope rise. He heard himself say, ‘You could have left them here.’

‘Oh no, you told me you wanted no reminders.’

She was punishing him. Then she said: ‘Actually, I’ve left two you might like. That one of Cathy. The other is that old one of the farm.’ She added, ‘If you don’t want them, just chuck them.’

He felt his eyes burn. ‘Thank you. Yes, I’d like them.’

‘Well, make up your mind where you want to hang them.’

Off the shelves everything systematically came, all her books and ornaments and knick-knacks, packed into cartons; out of her wardrobes came her clothes, neatly packed into trunks and suitcases, depending on whether they were winter or summer clothes.

‘It’ll be summer there now. The winter stuff can come by sea.’

Maybe she was expecting him to break, tell her she could leave all her things, come back whenever she chose, and her house and all would be waiting for her. And God knows there were times during that long bad month when he almost broke and said it.

He spent every moment he could with Cathy. He hated coming home to the heartbreakingly emptying house, and he was desperate to be with her. He told Dolores to rearrange his flights, so he could get home before she went to bed. If it was raining, he played with her in her room, to have her to himself. But he could not bear the sounds of packing going on and whenever he could he took her out. She was not yet two but he loved to talk to her, to figure out what was going on in her little head. Sometimes he took her to the park, to play on the swings and roundabouts, but she always got over-excited there, and he preferred just to walk with her down the lanes, carrying her on his shoulders, or holding her hand as she toddled along. Sometimes he drove into the village to buy her icecream and to show her the shops. Christmas was coming, and it crunched his heart. Christmas, but no Cathy, and no Shelagh. For that reason he did not like the Christmassy shops, but Cathy thought they were wonderful and he relented, taking her inside on his shoulders so she could see everything, and he always ended up buying her something. He liked to think of her out playing with them in sunny Rhodesia. And oh God, he just hoped that she would remember him when she did. But no, she would not; she was too little to remember these heartbreaking days, when she was leaving her daddy. He took her to see his aeroplanes, tried to explain them to her, hoping she would remember something, he desperately wanted her to remember as much about him as she could. ‘I’m your daddy, my darling, and I will always love you, always, you can always turn to me, for the rest of your life …’ But no, she did not know what was happening to her little life and to her daddy, and it made him feel desperate. She would grow up without him, and get to love some other man as her daddy, and that man could never, never feel the love that he was giving her …

At last he had to take her home to the heartbreaking cottage in the woods, to the sights of packing. And he sat with her while she bathed, watching her; and, oh, the feel of her small body as he soaped her, her little ribs and back and shoulders, then rubbing her dry while she giggled, and clutching her to his breast. And, after he had kissed her goodnight, he did not know what to do. With all his heart he longed to walk up to her mother, just take her in his arms and tell her he loved her, and their daughter, please don’t leave me. But he could not. Neither could he go and sit with Shelagh while she went about her packing; he did not want to let her out of his sight either, but he could not bear the house, so sometimes he went down to The Rabbit.

One night Danish Erika, who owned the joint, said: ‘I hear Shelagh’s leaving.’

He felt his heart squeeze. ‘She’s only going for a holiday.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Danish Erika said. ‘Nice work, if you can get it. So, you’ll be a bachelor. Well, when you start dishing it out, remember your friends.’

He pretended she was joking. At Redcoat House Dolores said, ‘If Shelagh’s only going for a few months, how come Malcolm crated up her pictures?’

‘She needs them at her summer course at the university.’

She followed him into his office. She said: ‘The council served a summons on us yesterday, to get us out of here. They’re sick of you stalling them.’

He looked at the summons. He hardly cared. The hearing was months hence.

‘We’ll wait till the last moment, enter an Appearance to Defend and ask for an adjournment.’

‘Then where do we go?’

‘To the Town Planning Tribunal. Then to the appeal court. Stop worrying, we’ve got years here.’

She looked at him sympathetically; then sat down on the corner of his desk. ‘Joe? It’s all for the best.’

He hated people knowing.

She said quietly: ‘This, too, shall pass …’ She sighed: ‘I should know; I feel much better since I washed my hands of Pomeroy.’

He didn’t say anything.

‘All right,’ she said, ‘I’ll mind my own business.’ She stood up. ‘But you are my business, remember.’ She added, challenging. ‘Where’s the beer-swigging, womanizing, life-and-soul-of-the-party I used to know?’

‘O.K., Dolores,’ he said.

‘O.K. But, boy – how the mighty are fallen!’

In the second last week he came back from Accra and the carpets were gone. They were hers. The living room looked very bare. She said, ‘It looks a bit sad, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes.’

‘The bedroom ones I sold. I need the money. The living room one, Malcolm wrapped up for me, for shipping.’

His throat felt thick. ‘I’d have bought them from you.’

‘Oh no. You told me.’ She added, ‘You’ll probably notice that all your shirts have now got buttons on. I had a blitz.’

He was taken aback. ‘Thank you, Shelagh.’

‘And I’ve stocked the deep-freeze. I opened an account for you, so don’t forget to pay it. The bill’s on the spike.’

He was touched. ‘Thank you.’

She said, ‘Well, I’m going up to Mom and Dad this afternoon, back by Monday night. Do you want to come? I’ll be driving through the Lake District; I haven’t seen it for years.’

The bloody Lake District. ‘No, thanks. I don’t want to intrude on your parents’ last weekend with you.’

‘Very well, please yourself. You always do.’

After they left, he went slowly upstairs, with a glass of whisky. He stood in the bedroom doorway. The bare floor shrieked Shelagh at him. He walked slowly to her wardrobe.