‘Junior’
The voice travelled
across the field like a whirlwind of crows. Giving an exasperated sigh, Rab
stopped casting his line and leaned against the gnarled tree. He wondered if he
would ever escape his mother’s continuous efforts to monopolise his time.
It was just like the
old days, mother nagging son, son hiding from mother. It wouldn’t be so bad but
he was forty-five years of age, more a mature student than a junior. Despite himself, he couldn’t help smiling at
the idea of his mother standing in the garden calling ‘Mature Student’. The name was the forfeit he paid for being the youngest
son. He was now a senior executive and well respected but to his mother he
would always be Junior. And he hated it.
Known by all as Rab, Richard
Aloysius Benjamin Kendal decided to ignore his mother’s call. He had come here
for peace and quiet, to fish and to contemplate his future. Elaine had been gone
a long time but this was the first time he’d found someone who fitted in with
his lifestyle.
Elaine Kendal died in
childbirth, taking their son with her. She was twenty-four and the most
stunning woman ever to walk the earth. Everything about her was beautiful. Her
looks, her body, her character. She had only to gaze at him with those
sparkling blue eyes and he was putty in her hands. She had been his world; from
the time they met he wanted nothing else but to be with her.
Their marriage was a
secret affair, wedded bliss without the crowds. Two people in love. His mother never forgave them for denying her
presence at her son’s wedding although she did rally round when Elaine died.
Rab thought it was more to do with losing a grandson than a daughter-in-law.
The two had never really got on. In fact, she didn’t get on with either of his
brother’s wives. Jacob, the eldest, said to ignore it, whilst Adrian reckoned it was a ‘Mom’ thing, a kind
of reluctance to take second place in her boys’ lives.
Elaine and Rab had
such plans for their first born. Rab had been so sure they were having a son
and he was right, only he wasn’t to know that until Elaine died. He’d spent
months planning to teach his son everything, things like football and fishing,
even dating girls when he was older. He even started to collect miniature trains
in the hope that father and son would bond together over the Flying Scott and
other well-known engines.
That was twenty years
ago. Twenty lonely years spent working his socks off trying to cope alone, his
mother doing her best to remove the desperate isolation that refused to go
away. Oh, it had eased a little but the guilt remained. Rab blamed himself for
Elaine’s death. If he hadn’t made her pregnant they would still be together. It
was a terrible cross to bear.
When his mother discovered
that the sympathetic approach didn’t work, she changed her policy to one of
chastisement. She began to nag, to force him to face the world and get on with
life. Rab felt it was all right for her, having divorced his father she hadn’t actually
lost someone she loved.
It was time he moved
out. His brothers had repeatedly told him so. Adrian said that returning to their mother’s
home had been a huge mistake and Rab was finally beginning to see sense. It had
taken him long enough.
A year after Elaine’s
death Rab entered a new phase of existence, working through the days and months
like an automaton. The guys at the
office helped by inviting him to golf clubs, football games, and nights out
until gradually he adopted the routine of a single man. Most of the time his
heart wasn’t in it but he persevered.
Sunday mornings were
taken up with swimming at the local baths. He swam like a fish and according to
the ladies he was very easy on the eye. Equally
fascinated were the female members of the book club that met on Wednesdays. Rab
would go armed with preparation notes and it rarely registered that the group
leader always got him to speak first, leaving the ladies inwardly drooling.
The decision to enrol at
night classes was the best idea he’d had. It was through Brenda, the art
teacher, that he started painting landscapes. After a year he fancied himself
as a great artist but his mother wisely ridiculed his dream. He supposed she
was trying to protect him from disappointment although a positive attitude
would definitely have had a more constructive effect.
Painting was his
salvation. Landscapes were what he did
best. Weekends were spent touring the countryside with Brenda, hunting for
paint worthy scenes. When she was otherwise engaged, he would take advantage of
fine days to set up his easel by a lake or a shingled beach. He was turning out
some good stuff and Brenda’s praise escalated. So did his ego. He did so well
he started to sell his pictures at the local market. He became well known as an artist and his
life took on new meaning.
Until he and Brenda fell
in love.
Rab was drawn to
Brenda almost as soon as they met. How well he remembered the first time he had
seen her; how taken aback he was by her uncanny likeness to Elaine. In looks she could
have passed for Elaine’s twin, the same sparkly eyes, soft, wavy auburn hair
that Rob loved to run his fingers through. Their build was identical, as was
the intelligent way they had of thinking things through. What’s more they had
matching ideals.
As their friendship grew,
he discovered that she had the same temperament as Elaine, a placid disposition
laced with spikiness when confronted by careless workmen. Rab was astonished
that two women could be so alike.
Yet doubts existed. Yes,
he loved Brenda, but he had loved Elaine the same way. Now he was confused
because he couldn’t be sure if he was making her a surrogate for the wife he’d adored.
Rab gazed into the
lake, seeing the ripples made by a jumping fish, but all thoughts of fishing were
now abandoned. At the top of a nearby bush a yellowhammer chirped its message.
It was a bird Rab easily recognised having read somewhere that the
yellowhammer’s call sounded like ‘a little bit of bread and no cheese’. Easy
for him, he thought, the world was its oyster, no worries, no nagging doubts. He
rubbed his hand against his chin, feeling the forming stubble, wishing that
dilemmas were as easy to remove.
What should he do?
Should he break off the relationship with Brenda? He shivered, even on that
warm day the thought of separation made him go cold. How could he cut himself
off from Brenda’s warmth now that he’d got used to it. But wasn’t that the
problem? Wasn’t her warmth bringing about the resurrection of his first
love?
‘Junior’
His mother’s voice cut
through the depression. Slowly Rab pushed away from the tree and got to his
feet. It was no use ignoring her summons any longer. Reluctantly he drew in the
rod and creel and packed his fishing tackle away. Stepping over the thick tree roots
he made his way to the field gate.
The smell of grilled
pork was enough to make Rab forget his troubles for a while. Cooking was what Rhoda Kendal did best.
Watching her serve roast potatoes from a willow pattern dish, five on Rab’s
plate and two on her own, was making his mouth water. He couldn’t wait to start
eating. That was one of the things about fishing, it gave him a tremendous
appetite.
‘Brenda phoned,’ Rhoda
informed him as she doled out spoonfuls of sprouts. ‘I told her you were out
fishing; she said she’d ring back.’
Oh God. The
nervousness came back. His hands felt clammy. What could he say when she rang?
The last time they’d spoken the conversation had ended on a precarious note,
his rejection of an invitation to meet her father leaving her bewildered and
just a little exasperated.
Placing a jug of steaming
gravy in front of him, Rhoda urged him to start eating or the Vicar would
arrive before they’d finished.’
The Vicar! Rab had
completely forgotten he was coming. If only he was in a better frame of mind he
might enjoy seeing the man. Rev. Beresford was a great guy, a widower. He’d been
a big help at Elaine’s funeral, the only one who could offer solace as well as
common sense. It was perhaps fortuitous that he was calling when Rab was
feeling so down. Rab began to eat the meal somewhat heartily, feeling suddenly
brighter, as if a magic wand had been waved over him.
~~~~~
Reverend Beresford put
his hat on the telephone table and swept into the room. He was full of bonhomie,
greeting Rhoda like a long lost friend instead of one he’d seen only the day
before. He approached Rab with equal friendliness, offering his hand and
patting him on the shoulder. ‘So nice of you to invite me round, Rhoda. The
church bazaar will benefit from your expertise,’ he said.
Not only did Rhoda
help with the floral decorations, she also planned the layout of the stalls.
The vicar swore no-one else did the job as well, a sentiment that Rab thought
was slightly over the top. It pleased his mother no end; she preened like a
peacock under his praise.
Rhoda gushingly
invited him to sit down and proceeded to lay her plans on the table. They were
to peruse them to see if there was any way they could expand the number of
stalls at the bazaar.
Rab was about to join
them when the telephone rang. He tried to ignore it but Rhoda was adamant that
it would be Brenda and therefore he must take the call. Rab felt his confidence
wane. He muttered something about ‘being out’ and gesturing to his mother to
give Brenda his apologies.
Reverent Beresford
looked from one to the other, obviously mystified by Rab’s reluctance to talk
to his lady friend.
The afternoon wore on
with Rab feeling very low spirited. When the plans were finalised the Vicar,
after declining a third cup of tea, rose to leave. Rab handed him his hat,
inwardly reeling from the man’s direct gaze.
‘Why don’t you come
and see me sometime,’ the Vicar said. ‘I generally take a glass of something in
the evening and you would be more than welcome to join me.’ Without waiting for
a reply, he left the room to say goodbye to Rhoda who was waiting by the front
door.
~~~~~
That evening Rab did
call to see the Vicar. He had been intending to go to the Golden Goose but half
way there he changed his mind. It wouldn’t hurt to go and see the old guy in
his own establishment. The fact that he had deliberately avoided speaking to
Brenda was worrying him. No matter how he felt about things avoidance was
uncalled for. She, after all, had done nothing wrong. The worrying part was
that she was so sweet natured she wouldn’t think anything was amiss. That was
even more upsetting.
Although a fairly
regular churchgoer it was the first time Rab had been inside the vicarage. He
was surprised by the warmth of the decor. For a single man the Vicar had
extremely good taste. The furnishings were comfortable and inviting and the soft
lighting made the room quite cosy. What surprised him was seeing one of his
paintings in an alcove next to the fireplace.
‘I liked the way you
captured the serenity of the lake,’ explained the Vicar. ‘The picture suits
this room, don’t you think?
Rab smiled as he
thanked the Reverend. It felt good to know that his work was appreciated. Glancing
through the window he saw a tidy garden edged by tall trees, the waning sun
producing shadowy shapes on the lawn. In the centre there was an arrangement of
colourful flowers in a large stone pot, its shadow stretching out to touch a
wooden bench at the side. He committed the scene to memory.
Rab was invited to sit
in the armchair facing the one used by his host. Reverend Beresford’s chair was
beside a coffee table already laid with a tray of drinks. Holding up a glass
and a bottle of scotch, he enquired of Rab’s preference. Rab declined the
whisky on the grounds that it might affect his driving and asked instead for a
small glass of white wine.
After a good half an
hour of untailored conversation, Rab raised the subject of his relationship with
Brenda. It wasn’t something he had intended to do and he wondered if the
peaceful ambience of the room had influenced his thinking.
‘Ah yes,’ said the
Reverend, ‘I detected something was wrong when you refused to talk to her on the
phone.’
And so Rab divulged
all, starting with a résumé of his life with Elaine and how, after all these
years, he still missed her.
The vicar placed his
glass on the table. ‘That’s understandable when you were so much in love.’
Leaning forward, Rab
placed his elbows on his knees, resting his chin on his hands. ‘Vicar,’ he
went. ‘I also love Brenda. The only trouble is I’m not sure whether it’s my
love for Elaine showing through. Elaine and Brenda are so much alike I often
think Brenda is the reincarnation of my wife. I can’t let the relationship
continue while I’m so uncertain.’
The Vicar looked
thoughtful. For a moment or two he remained silent, just sitting there gazing
at Rab. Finally, he asked ‘Remind me, how long has it been since Elaine died?’
‘Twenty years.’
‘How do you know they
look the same? Forgive me for saying this but if Elaine was alive now she might
look entirely different to Brenda. I fear you are living in the past, Rab, and
it’s time to move on. Anyway, is it so terrible to have the same strong
feelings for Brenda as you had for Elaine? Doesn’t that prove something?’
Rab hadn’t expected
such a reply. ‘Prove what,’ he asked?
‘Why, my friend, it
proves that you are capable of great love. Now, if you stop comparing the two
women you might understand what I mean. I don’t want to sound too severe, Rab,
but Elaine has been gone a long time. The shock of losing her was monumental
but you moved forward. Naturally you will never forget her but now you need to
look at Brenda in a new light. She isn’t Elaine, and you know it. You are
merely tormenting yourself. For pity’s sake, man, don’t feel guilty for falling
in love a second time.’
At first Rab felt
wounded by these remarks, but then an element of common sense crept in. ‘So you
think it’s all right to love two women in exactly the same way?’
‘It’s not ‘exactly’
the same, Rab. It’s a new love, and a new life. Have you talked to Brenda about
it?’
‘Good Lord, no.’
‘Why not?’
Rab didn’t know the
answer to that question. He had wanted to discuss it with Brenda but it had
never seemed the right thing to do. He didn’t know how she would take the fact
that he loved her as he had loved Elaine.’
Reverend Beresford reached
across and picked up Rab’s glass. As he stood to pour more wine, he suggested that
Rab explained his feelings to Brenda as soon as possible. ‘Trust me, dear boy,
she will be grateful for your honesty.’
~~~~~
Rhoda quizzed her son
about his evening with the Vicar. ‘I’ve been worried about you for a while
now,’ she said. ‘You and I have never been able to discuss things, that’s why I
invited the Reverend round here. If anyone can talk sense, he can.’
‘How did you know I’d
been to see him?’
Rhoda admitted that
the Vicar had reported back.
After a moment’s
silence Rab started to laugh, and Rhoda laughed with him. ‘Your old Mum isn’t
so bad, you know. I might be an old nag but I have your interests at heart.’
Rab gave his mother a
huge hug and whispered in her ear,’ I love you, Mom. I’ve been such a mental
mess lately.’
‘I know son. I know.
And I hope it’s all over now.’ Just like a Mom, she pecked his cheek, then went
to brew a pot of tea.
~~~~~
That evening Rab rang
Brenda at her home. First, he apologised for not taking her call and then he
asked if she would like to go out for a meal the next day. ‘I’ve got so much to
tell you,’ he said. Hearing her cheerful acceptance made him feel good about
himself. In fact, his heart felt full to bursting knowing that finally his
future was sound.
