Sea Salt 1, Chocolate 25, Papaya 5 [Divide and Rule]
Title: Autumn’s Outing
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sea Salt #1 (ocean/sea), Chocolate #25 (inspiration), Papaya #5 (I told you so)
Toppings/Extras: Malt - Ghosts of the Past 5 (a lost love); My Treat - a vacation to the seaside
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3364
Notes: Sept. 1938; Edward Iveson/Marie Werner. (It is mostly a trip to the seaside, but warnings for infidelity; mentions of a past abusive marriage & suicide/violence.)
Summary: Marie could use something to take her mind away from some old memories, and Edward’s willing to oblige - but their ideas don’t necessarily match…
***
“How much time can you spare?” It was Edward on the telephone. “Can you manage a whole day - or overnight?”
Marie felt the first lift in her present dark mood as she wondered what on earth he’d come up with. All she’d said to him earlier was that she hoped he could make tomorrow to take her out somewhere - to do something, anything, preferably something so very English it would keep her safely far away from her memories.
“Richard’s at a business conference over the whole weekend - somewhere in the north - very grim and dismal it all sounded. I can do overnight all right, Edward, but for heaven’s sake, be discreet.”
“That goes without saying,” he said. “And in that case, meet me at Charing Cross at ten o’clock tomorrow - don’t be late.”
Marie raised her eyebrows. “Hey, I didn’t ask to be dragged out somewhere at an unreasonable hour, thanks. Where are we going?”
“Away,” said Edward. “I thought that part was obvious. Don’t forget an overnight case.”
Marie shook her head as she put the telephone down. Well, she thought, that was what she got for asking him to surprise her: he took her at her word. She hadn’t explained why, of course. She never talked about John beyond brief remarks unless there was some very good reason to go there. Who would? It had been hell at the time, and who wanted to revisit hell once they’d gotten out? She mostly found it best not to even think about it; that was her best revenge. He was gone, and that was that. But this weekend marked a cluster of awkward anniversaries and she just wanted not to be alone in the middle of that. If Richard had inconveniently gone away to talk to a bunch of dull factory owners, well, at least there was Edward.
There was no hiding from it, though, not tonight: tomorrow it was fifteen years since she had married John Brannon. It had taken years to find a way to leave him. John could be the devil himself, but he’d owned a good part of her soul and all of her body back then. She turned away, walking back over to the chair, as if trying to escape such thoughts. She’d trained herself to do it, but she was shaking now: it was six years since he’d shot himself; one last message to her, she always thought. She’d been relieved he was gone, truth be told. She’d left him, she’d managed to get the divorce through, she’d won, but there was still the dread of knowing he was out there, of wondering sometimes if the old pull might still exist, despite everything they’d both done. She shivered. Even so, sometimes the thought of his death scared her: she felt he’d done it with malice against her, choosing that date, and in her worst nightmares he came back, a malevolent spirit to drag her into hell with him.
Enough of that, she told herself, and switched the radio on, then fixed herself a drink. She’d lose herself in the radio, with its painfully proper BBC announcers, and tomorrow she was going somewhere with Edward, somewhere English where John had no place. Marie hadn’t expected a trip, but maybe, she thought, it would be just what she needed -an outing to some quaint little village, perhaps, with thatched roofs and cottage crafts and farm shops and roses. That ought to banish any unwanted ghosts all right.
“Come on,” she said, no they were sitting opposite each other in the train compartment as it pulled out of Charing Cross Station. “I’ve played along nicely; now out with it - where is it we’re going?”
Edward leaned back in his seat and looked out of the window. For the moment they had the compartment to themselves, though that probably wouldn’t last. He gave a small, slow smile, evidently pleased with himself. “To the seaside.”
“What?”
“Seaside,” he said. “You sounded as if you wanted to get away, and you said, could we do something silly and English - which sounds like an insult to me, by the way - and so I thought -”
Marie laughed. “I see. I was expecting somewhere peaceful - with tea and scones and jam. I heard the weather’s not supposed to be good. I’m not sure it’s the time to go bathing.”
“No, no,” said Edward, becoming misleadingly solemn. “It isn’t at all the same unless you have to have at least one picnic on the beach in the rain.”
She shook her head at him. “Remind me never to leave you in charge of the weekend’s activities again! But the seaside doesn’t narrow it down much - where are we going? Somewhere nice, I hope.”
“Hastings,” he said. “Not Brighton, of course, I promise. But Hastings isn’t far - and it’s historical, seeing as you wanted things to be English.”
Marie leant back against her seat. She wasn’t sure what was supposed to be so obviously wrong with Brighton, but she decided it was better not to ask. “I told you I’m not interested in history.”
“Well, there’s a castle,” he said. “It’s very old - one of the oldest Norman castles in Britain. On a cliff.”
As if, she thought, that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she meant by not liking history: all these old, decaying places, most of them with grim tales attached of wars and dungeons and death.
“And a pier,” he said, “and a cliff railway. And even if it wasn’t what you wanted, there’s an old town, and I’m sure there won’t be a shortage of tea shops.” He gave her a sideways grin. “With tea and scones and jam, of course.”
Hastings did indeed have a castle as promised. It was positioned up on the cliff at one end of the town, as if keeping watch just in case any visitors had too much fun on the pier. It was drizzling as they walked along the sea front, so Marie didn’t think there was going to be any danger of that anyhow.
They’d checked in at the hotel first, which was not the kind of place she was accustomed to these days, although it was a long way from a couple of the cockroach-infested, semi-criminal dives she’d visited with John. It was somewhere awkwardly in between, a quiet place of shabby respectability that was probably as much a lie as she and Edward calling themselves Mr and Mrs Carter for the register.
Still, it might not be sunny, but there was a fresh sea breeze and she appreciated the air after the stuffiness of London. On the front here, Hastings smelt of salt and sea weed and from somewhere, faintly, fish and chips.
“The sea,” said Edward, waving a hand, as if he’d personally invented it, and she shook her head at him, but she looked out across the grey English Channel and saw the sun break through the clouds, the light mirrored brokenly below on the sea. For what she wanted, she thought, it wasn’t all that bad.
Edward turned back towards her. “If it carries on like this, there ought to be a rainbow.”
“It’s okay,” she said, with a smile. “I’m mostly kidding, you know. I like it. What next?”
He held out his hand to her. “The beach, of course.”
“It’s raining,” she said. “What are we going to do down there?”
Edward laughed. “It’s not very bad - it should clear up soon. And we paddle - build a sandcastle, that sort of thing.”
“Do we?” she said, though she let him lead her down onto the beach. She eyed it with some amusement in the light of his last suggestion, as it was largely shingle. “I think you might have some trouble finding enough sand. And, hey, I am not going in the water in this weather!”
He kept hold of her hand, leading her towards the edge of the sea. “No, no, only paddling.” Then he glanced at her, becoming serious. “You said to me on the telephone that you wanted not to think about anything - just to get away, do something silly. Well, that’s what this is, I promise.”
“Yes, I got that,” she said. “But you do remember we don’t want to attract attention - and I didn’t have any intention of getting wet and cold for fun when I set off this morning.”
Edward glanced around the beach. September was the tail-end of the season and it was raining and the only people around were chiefly locals walking their dogs. “I think we can get away with it this once,” he said in a stage whisper. Then he grinned. “So, come on - take off your shoes and stockings.”
“What?”
He turned his head back to her and then laughed, softly at first, then helplessly. It took him a while before he could stop and say anything. “Well, you don’t want to get them wet, do you?”
“No, no, I get it,” said Marie. “For the paddling. I just wasn’t expecting it - and what’s so darn funny?”
Edward crouched down to remove one shoe and sock and then switched his position to do the other. “Well, you being shocked about a thing like that, after everything.”
She straightened up from taking off her shoes - she thought she’d better keep the stockings on; it would only be too awkward to unfasten and fasten them out here - and watched him. “I’ve got standards - and morals. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
Edward looked up at her, still crouched down, the laughter vanishing from his face. “Marie, no. That wasn’t what I meant. I wouldn’t - I mean - Marie.”
“I know, honey,” she said, but she wondered if that was true. She was willing to bet he hadn’t meant many other women who’d set out to seduce him as she had, and his discomfort at the fact of their affair was only too obvious. That must surely colour the way he thought about her. And in some ways, that was maybe for the best. She’d had a couple of affairs before, and she knew that keeping the kind of equilibrium and lack of serious attachment she wanted wasn’t easy; she’d had to be careful. With Edward she intended to do the same, but she was in this case more concerned about him - she wasn’t sure he possessed that ability. He wasn’t all that much younger than her, but in some of the ways that mattered, he was, considerably so.
He stood up and held out his hand to her again. “So, then, jump a few waves with me. Afterwards, we can probably find you that scone.”
“It’s not the scone I was after,” she said. “I was only thinking of something more - I don’t know - charmingly olde worlde, perhaps. Not us behaving like children in public!”
Once she was over the shock of the cold water, for which she complained at him at length (but squeezed his hand to let him know she didn’t mean the half of it), she found she struggled to keep her balance. The stones and shingle of the beach shifted about around her, and she had to catch at Edward more than once. And while jumping over the smallest waves at the edge of the beach sounded like a peculiarly pointless activity, it was more complicated than it seemed. Some waves died away before reaching them and others would suddenly grow more violent, catching them unawares and wetting the ends of their clothes before they could back away. The tide was going out and when it finally grew too cold for them to continue, she found, a little disorientated, that they were now yards away from where they’d left their shoes.
She shivered as he helped her back along the beach, complaining again about his ideas of fun and the pain of walking on shingle, but she was still laughing and slightly out of breath from the exercise. As they stopped to collect their shoes, she caught him looking at her with a smile.
“What now?” she asked, but she smiled.
Edward reached over to push stray strands of her hair from her face. “Nothing. Only I was right, wasn’t I?”
“I’d have expected you to be too much of a gentleman to say I told you so,” she retorted.
He tucked another lose curl of hair back behind her ear, still smiling. “You’re usually so - impeccable. I’m sorry.” Then he laughed. “No, that’s a lie - I’m not sorry.” He leaned over further and kissed her before turning away to reclaim his shoes.
Oh, yes, thought Marie, keeping detached was always difficult. It was like the waves; none of them quite what you expected, some nothing at all, others crashing in, taking you unawares. You paddled at the edges where it was safe, and you could still find yourself in too deep.
He looked up at her as he did up his shoelaces. “I suppose that wasn’t being discreet, was it? But nobody’s watching - and if they were, they’d have already come to their own conclusions just from us being here together. That couldn’t make it any worse.”
“No,” said Marie. “Oh, no. Like you say, it’s bad enough already.”
She had wet stockings and a damp skirt and so they had to go back to the hotel to change before Edward could keep his promise and find her a tea shop, but they managed to find one down a side street in the old town, and they did indeed have tea and scones and jam. Marie chose a cake instead. Later on, after more wandering about small shops, they went out for dinner later, Marie drawing a line at eating at this hotel. It didn’t bear thinking about, she’d told him.
“You know why I wanted to go away?” Marie said, after they’d come back, turning to Edward for help with unfastening her long blue and silver evening dress.
He hesitated before answering, focusing on undoing the last button. “I supposed that it was something to do with - with your first husband.”
“Yes,” she said. “Everything. And if Richard hadn’t been away, I wouldn’t have telephoned you.”
Edward let go of her and moved away. “Well, yes, of course,” he said, but stiffly, and she turned around to see him leaning awkwardly against the wardrobe, radiating discomfort.
“No, you don’t get it,” Marie said. “I’m unsettled this weekend because of John - and also because of him, security is the most important thing. And that’s what I get from Richard. Whatever else he might be, he’s not unkind and I know exactly where I am with him.”
Edward looked down as he removed his tie, winding it round his hand. “You’ve said before. I understand.”
“I hope you do, because while we can help cheer each other up a little, I mean us to have a nice time -”
“But that’s all,” he said for her. “I do understand. Look, Marie, that’s it - you have been kind, and I was glad to have a chance to return the favour.”
She laughed. “That’s sweet, but you don’t imagine I’m doing this out of charity, do you?”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said, and coloured dully.
She sat down on the bed. “Well, see the way you get whenever I say things like that. And maybe that sounds a little egotistical and vain, but I worry. I don’t want to set you up for a fall.” Me either, she added silently.
“You keep telling me,” he said, and then he laughed and sat down beside her. “So what I do here is my problem. I can’t say you didn’t tell me so if I get in too deep. But you’ve said; you don’t need to say it again.”
She nodded, removing her earrings and her necklace. “And very off-putting it is too, I’m sure. You’ll have to forgive me - my relationships haven’t been the best and I don’t want to drag you into the disaster zone.”
“I’m already there,” said Edward. “I got there all by myself, before I ever met you.”
Marie closed her eyes and lay back on the bed. “You have no idea. You didn’t know John.”
“You didn’t want to think about him,” he reminded her softly.
“No, but it’s hard to shake him off,” she said. “It’s our anniversary.” She sat up again, and turned off the lamp, at which Edward, still unbuttoning his shirt, made a sound of protest. She ignored him. “I’m going to tell you how it was and I can’t do that if I can see you.”
“You don’t have to.”
She smiled to herself. “Bet you’d rather I wouldn’t, but it seems I do need to, this once.”
“It’s not that,” said Edward, although she thought he did sound mildly annoyed. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to find where I put my suitcase, let alone my pyjamas, with the light off.”
Marie stretched out a hand to his arm. “Well, don’t then. Lie down and listen first. My turn to bore you to death with my woes - can you manage that?”
She didn’t tell him the half of it, of course - merely enough to paint the picture beyond the little she’d already told him when they’d first got together. She didn’t know whether he was bored or pitying her, but that was the point of staying in the gloom: that way it didn’t matter.
When she’d done, she turned the lamp on again, finding him lying on his side, looking at her, still only half-undressed. She smiled and put a hand to his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
She sat up again, glancing down at him, playing with his hair with her fingers. “I don’t suppose I did. It’s not really the point, though.”
“Still -”
She shook her head. “That’s more than enough of that. Now, come on - Richard and I are heading back to the States soon, so I don’t know what I’m doing wasting time on the past when the present is deserting us all too quickly.”
Edward propped himself up on his elbow. “Well, we can’t have that.”
“I don’t know when we’ll be back,” she said, putting a hand to his chest. “I think Richard might have something on in the new year. You know, if you meet someone in the meantime -”
He tilted his head slightly. “Did you want me to cheer you up or were you just trying to bring me down to your level? Who am I going to meet?”
“You never know,” said Marie. “And it’s what you need, you know - some nice girl who’s always on the same continent and doesn’t mind building sandcastles with you.”
Edward glanced down, his face in shadow and uncharacteristically unreadable. “I thought you’d enjoyed today.”
“I have, honey,” she said. She was talking too much tonight, and probably getting too many things wrong. “It just needed to be said - same way I needed to tell you about John. It might seem odd to you, but I’m happy as I am.” Richard wasn’t the ideal husband, but then that wasn’t what she wanted: someone like that would deserve more of her than she could give. John had taken too much. She liked Edward and she was very fond of Richard but she wasn’t giving her soul again, not in this lifetime. A person didn’t do that twice.
Edward sat up and then caught at her hand. “Marie, talking of that - what you said about your anniversary - what he did. I mean, you may be right; he sounds like a complete bastard, but choosing that date - maybe he regretted what had happened - losing you.” He gave a fleeting grin. “After all, you keep warning me that a person could get too fond of you.”
She swallowed, and wondered which of them was in the greatest danger. She kissed him and put her arms around him, pulling him nearer. “Enough talk,” she said. If he came out with anything else like that, she might even cry and there’d been enough salt water between them already for one day.
***
Author: lost_spook
Story: Heroes of the Revolution (Divide & Rule)
Flavor(s): Sea Salt #1 (ocean/sea), Chocolate #25 (inspiration), Papaya #5 (I told you so)
Toppings/Extras: Malt - Ghosts of the Past 5 (a lost love); My Treat - a vacation to the seaside
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 3364
Notes: Sept. 1938; Edward Iveson/Marie Werner. (It is mostly a trip to the seaside, but warnings for infidelity; mentions of a past abusive marriage & suicide/violence.)
Summary: Marie could use something to take her mind away from some old memories, and Edward’s willing to oblige - but their ideas don’t necessarily match…
***
“How much time can you spare?” It was Edward on the telephone. “Can you manage a whole day - or overnight?”
Marie felt the first lift in her present dark mood as she wondered what on earth he’d come up with. All she’d said to him earlier was that she hoped he could make tomorrow to take her out somewhere - to do something, anything, preferably something so very English it would keep her safely far away from her memories.
“Richard’s at a business conference over the whole weekend - somewhere in the north - very grim and dismal it all sounded. I can do overnight all right, Edward, but for heaven’s sake, be discreet.”
“That goes without saying,” he said. “And in that case, meet me at Charing Cross at ten o’clock tomorrow - don’t be late.”
Marie raised her eyebrows. “Hey, I didn’t ask to be dragged out somewhere at an unreasonable hour, thanks. Where are we going?”
“Away,” said Edward. “I thought that part was obvious. Don’t forget an overnight case.”
Marie shook her head as she put the telephone down. Well, she thought, that was what she got for asking him to surprise her: he took her at her word. She hadn’t explained why, of course. She never talked about John beyond brief remarks unless there was some very good reason to go there. Who would? It had been hell at the time, and who wanted to revisit hell once they’d gotten out? She mostly found it best not to even think about it; that was her best revenge. He was gone, and that was that. But this weekend marked a cluster of awkward anniversaries and she just wanted not to be alone in the middle of that. If Richard had inconveniently gone away to talk to a bunch of dull factory owners, well, at least there was Edward.
There was no hiding from it, though, not tonight: tomorrow it was fifteen years since she had married John Brannon. It had taken years to find a way to leave him. John could be the devil himself, but he’d owned a good part of her soul and all of her body back then. She turned away, walking back over to the chair, as if trying to escape such thoughts. She’d trained herself to do it, but she was shaking now: it was six years since he’d shot himself; one last message to her, she always thought. She’d been relieved he was gone, truth be told. She’d left him, she’d managed to get the divorce through, she’d won, but there was still the dread of knowing he was out there, of wondering sometimes if the old pull might still exist, despite everything they’d both done. She shivered. Even so, sometimes the thought of his death scared her: she felt he’d done it with malice against her, choosing that date, and in her worst nightmares he came back, a malevolent spirit to drag her into hell with him.
Enough of that, she told herself, and switched the radio on, then fixed herself a drink. She’d lose herself in the radio, with its painfully proper BBC announcers, and tomorrow she was going somewhere with Edward, somewhere English where John had no place. Marie hadn’t expected a trip, but maybe, she thought, it would be just what she needed -an outing to some quaint little village, perhaps, with thatched roofs and cottage crafts and farm shops and roses. That ought to banish any unwanted ghosts all right.
“Come on,” she said, no they were sitting opposite each other in the train compartment as it pulled out of Charing Cross Station. “I’ve played along nicely; now out with it - where is it we’re going?”
Edward leaned back in his seat and looked out of the window. For the moment they had the compartment to themselves, though that probably wouldn’t last. He gave a small, slow smile, evidently pleased with himself. “To the seaside.”
“What?”
“Seaside,” he said. “You sounded as if you wanted to get away, and you said, could we do something silly and English - which sounds like an insult to me, by the way - and so I thought -”
Marie laughed. “I see. I was expecting somewhere peaceful - with tea and scones and jam. I heard the weather’s not supposed to be good. I’m not sure it’s the time to go bathing.”
“No, no,” said Edward, becoming misleadingly solemn. “It isn’t at all the same unless you have to have at least one picnic on the beach in the rain.”
She shook her head at him. “Remind me never to leave you in charge of the weekend’s activities again! But the seaside doesn’t narrow it down much - where are we going? Somewhere nice, I hope.”
“Hastings,” he said. “Not Brighton, of course, I promise. But Hastings isn’t far - and it’s historical, seeing as you wanted things to be English.”
Marie leant back against her seat. She wasn’t sure what was supposed to be so obviously wrong with Brighton, but she decided it was better not to ask. “I told you I’m not interested in history.”
“Well, there’s a castle,” he said. “It’s very old - one of the oldest Norman castles in Britain. On a cliff.”
As if, she thought, that wasn’t exactly the kind of thing she meant by not liking history: all these old, decaying places, most of them with grim tales attached of wars and dungeons and death.
“And a pier,” he said, “and a cliff railway. And even if it wasn’t what you wanted, there’s an old town, and I’m sure there won’t be a shortage of tea shops.” He gave her a sideways grin. “With tea and scones and jam, of course.”
Hastings did indeed have a castle as promised. It was positioned up on the cliff at one end of the town, as if keeping watch just in case any visitors had too much fun on the pier. It was drizzling as they walked along the sea front, so Marie didn’t think there was going to be any danger of that anyhow.
They’d checked in at the hotel first, which was not the kind of place she was accustomed to these days, although it was a long way from a couple of the cockroach-infested, semi-criminal dives she’d visited with John. It was somewhere awkwardly in between, a quiet place of shabby respectability that was probably as much a lie as she and Edward calling themselves Mr and Mrs Carter for the register.
Still, it might not be sunny, but there was a fresh sea breeze and she appreciated the air after the stuffiness of London. On the front here, Hastings smelt of salt and sea weed and from somewhere, faintly, fish and chips.
“The sea,” said Edward, waving a hand, as if he’d personally invented it, and she shook her head at him, but she looked out across the grey English Channel and saw the sun break through the clouds, the light mirrored brokenly below on the sea. For what she wanted, she thought, it wasn’t all that bad.
Edward turned back towards her. “If it carries on like this, there ought to be a rainbow.”
“It’s okay,” she said, with a smile. “I’m mostly kidding, you know. I like it. What next?”
He held out his hand to her. “The beach, of course.”
“It’s raining,” she said. “What are we going to do down there?”
Edward laughed. “It’s not very bad - it should clear up soon. And we paddle - build a sandcastle, that sort of thing.”
“Do we?” she said, though she let him lead her down onto the beach. She eyed it with some amusement in the light of his last suggestion, as it was largely shingle. “I think you might have some trouble finding enough sand. And, hey, I am not going in the water in this weather!”
He kept hold of her hand, leading her towards the edge of the sea. “No, no, only paddling.” Then he glanced at her, becoming serious. “You said to me on the telephone that you wanted not to think about anything - just to get away, do something silly. Well, that’s what this is, I promise.”
“Yes, I got that,” she said. “But you do remember we don’t want to attract attention - and I didn’t have any intention of getting wet and cold for fun when I set off this morning.”
Edward glanced around the beach. September was the tail-end of the season and it was raining and the only people around were chiefly locals walking their dogs. “I think we can get away with it this once,” he said in a stage whisper. Then he grinned. “So, come on - take off your shoes and stockings.”
“What?”
He turned his head back to her and then laughed, softly at first, then helplessly. It took him a while before he could stop and say anything. “Well, you don’t want to get them wet, do you?”
“No, no, I get it,” said Marie. “For the paddling. I just wasn’t expecting it - and what’s so darn funny?”
Edward crouched down to remove one shoe and sock and then switched his position to do the other. “Well, you being shocked about a thing like that, after everything.”
She straightened up from taking off her shoes - she thought she’d better keep the stockings on; it would only be too awkward to unfasten and fasten them out here - and watched him. “I’ve got standards - and morals. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
Edward looked up at her, still crouched down, the laughter vanishing from his face. “Marie, no. That wasn’t what I meant. I wouldn’t - I mean - Marie.”
“I know, honey,” she said, but she wondered if that was true. She was willing to bet he hadn’t meant many other women who’d set out to seduce him as she had, and his discomfort at the fact of their affair was only too obvious. That must surely colour the way he thought about her. And in some ways, that was maybe for the best. She’d had a couple of affairs before, and she knew that keeping the kind of equilibrium and lack of serious attachment she wanted wasn’t easy; she’d had to be careful. With Edward she intended to do the same, but she was in this case more concerned about him - she wasn’t sure he possessed that ability. He wasn’t all that much younger than her, but in some of the ways that mattered, he was, considerably so.
He stood up and held out his hand to her again. “So, then, jump a few waves with me. Afterwards, we can probably find you that scone.”
“It’s not the scone I was after,” she said. “I was only thinking of something more - I don’t know - charmingly olde worlde, perhaps. Not us behaving like children in public!”
Once she was over the shock of the cold water, for which she complained at him at length (but squeezed his hand to let him know she didn’t mean the half of it), she found she struggled to keep her balance. The stones and shingle of the beach shifted about around her, and she had to catch at Edward more than once. And while jumping over the smallest waves at the edge of the beach sounded like a peculiarly pointless activity, it was more complicated than it seemed. Some waves died away before reaching them and others would suddenly grow more violent, catching them unawares and wetting the ends of their clothes before they could back away. The tide was going out and when it finally grew too cold for them to continue, she found, a little disorientated, that they were now yards away from where they’d left their shoes.
She shivered as he helped her back along the beach, complaining again about his ideas of fun and the pain of walking on shingle, but she was still laughing and slightly out of breath from the exercise. As they stopped to collect their shoes, she caught him looking at her with a smile.
“What now?” she asked, but she smiled.
Edward reached over to push stray strands of her hair from her face. “Nothing. Only I was right, wasn’t I?”
“I’d have expected you to be too much of a gentleman to say I told you so,” she retorted.
He tucked another lose curl of hair back behind her ear, still smiling. “You’re usually so - impeccable. I’m sorry.” Then he laughed. “No, that’s a lie - I’m not sorry.” He leaned over further and kissed her before turning away to reclaim his shoes.
Oh, yes, thought Marie, keeping detached was always difficult. It was like the waves; none of them quite what you expected, some nothing at all, others crashing in, taking you unawares. You paddled at the edges where it was safe, and you could still find yourself in too deep.
He looked up at her as he did up his shoelaces. “I suppose that wasn’t being discreet, was it? But nobody’s watching - and if they were, they’d have already come to their own conclusions just from us being here together. That couldn’t make it any worse.”
“No,” said Marie. “Oh, no. Like you say, it’s bad enough already.”
She had wet stockings and a damp skirt and so they had to go back to the hotel to change before Edward could keep his promise and find her a tea shop, but they managed to find one down a side street in the old town, and they did indeed have tea and scones and jam. Marie chose a cake instead. Later on, after more wandering about small shops, they went out for dinner later, Marie drawing a line at eating at this hotel. It didn’t bear thinking about, she’d told him.
“You know why I wanted to go away?” Marie said, after they’d come back, turning to Edward for help with unfastening her long blue and silver evening dress.
He hesitated before answering, focusing on undoing the last button. “I supposed that it was something to do with - with your first husband.”
“Yes,” she said. “Everything. And if Richard hadn’t been away, I wouldn’t have telephoned you.”
Edward let go of her and moved away. “Well, yes, of course,” he said, but stiffly, and she turned around to see him leaning awkwardly against the wardrobe, radiating discomfort.
“No, you don’t get it,” Marie said. “I’m unsettled this weekend because of John - and also because of him, security is the most important thing. And that’s what I get from Richard. Whatever else he might be, he’s not unkind and I know exactly where I am with him.”
Edward looked down as he removed his tie, winding it round his hand. “You’ve said before. I understand.”
“I hope you do, because while we can help cheer each other up a little, I mean us to have a nice time -”
“But that’s all,” he said for her. “I do understand. Look, Marie, that’s it - you have been kind, and I was glad to have a chance to return the favour.”
She laughed. “That’s sweet, but you don’t imagine I’m doing this out of charity, do you?”
“That wasn’t what I meant,” he said, and coloured dully.
She sat down on the bed. “Well, see the way you get whenever I say things like that. And maybe that sounds a little egotistical and vain, but I worry. I don’t want to set you up for a fall.” Me either, she added silently.
“You keep telling me,” he said, and then he laughed and sat down beside her. “So what I do here is my problem. I can’t say you didn’t tell me so if I get in too deep. But you’ve said; you don’t need to say it again.”
She nodded, removing her earrings and her necklace. “And very off-putting it is too, I’m sure. You’ll have to forgive me - my relationships haven’t been the best and I don’t want to drag you into the disaster zone.”
“I’m already there,” said Edward. “I got there all by myself, before I ever met you.”
Marie closed her eyes and lay back on the bed. “You have no idea. You didn’t know John.”
“You didn’t want to think about him,” he reminded her softly.
“No, but it’s hard to shake him off,” she said. “It’s our anniversary.” She sat up again, and turned off the lamp, at which Edward, still unbuttoning his shirt, made a sound of protest. She ignored him. “I’m going to tell you how it was and I can’t do that if I can see you.”
“You don’t have to.”
She smiled to herself. “Bet you’d rather I wouldn’t, but it seems I do need to, this once.”
“It’s not that,” said Edward, although she thought he did sound mildly annoyed. “I’m not sure how I’m supposed to find where I put my suitcase, let alone my pyjamas, with the light off.”
Marie stretched out a hand to his arm. “Well, don’t then. Lie down and listen first. My turn to bore you to death with my woes - can you manage that?”
She didn’t tell him the half of it, of course - merely enough to paint the picture beyond the little she’d already told him when they’d first got together. She didn’t know whether he was bored or pitying her, but that was the point of staying in the gloom: that way it didn’t matter.
When she’d done, she turned the lamp on again, finding him lying on his side, looking at her, still only half-undressed. She smiled and put a hand to his face.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “You didn’t deserve any of that.”
She sat up again, glancing down at him, playing with his hair with her fingers. “I don’t suppose I did. It’s not really the point, though.”
“Still -”
She shook her head. “That’s more than enough of that. Now, come on - Richard and I are heading back to the States soon, so I don’t know what I’m doing wasting time on the past when the present is deserting us all too quickly.”
Edward propped himself up on his elbow. “Well, we can’t have that.”
“I don’t know when we’ll be back,” she said, putting a hand to his chest. “I think Richard might have something on in the new year. You know, if you meet someone in the meantime -”
He tilted his head slightly. “Did you want me to cheer you up or were you just trying to bring me down to your level? Who am I going to meet?”
“You never know,” said Marie. “And it’s what you need, you know - some nice girl who’s always on the same continent and doesn’t mind building sandcastles with you.”
Edward glanced down, his face in shadow and uncharacteristically unreadable. “I thought you’d enjoyed today.”
“I have, honey,” she said. She was talking too much tonight, and probably getting too many things wrong. “It just needed to be said - same way I needed to tell you about John. It might seem odd to you, but I’m happy as I am.” Richard wasn’t the ideal husband, but then that wasn’t what she wanted: someone like that would deserve more of her than she could give. John had taken too much. She liked Edward and she was very fond of Richard but she wasn’t giving her soul again, not in this lifetime. A person didn’t do that twice.
Edward sat up and then caught at her hand. “Marie, talking of that - what you said about your anniversary - what he did. I mean, you may be right; he sounds like a complete bastard, but choosing that date - maybe he regretted what had happened - losing you.” He gave a fleeting grin. “After all, you keep warning me that a person could get too fond of you.”
She swallowed, and wondered which of them was in the greatest danger. She kissed him and put her arms around him, pulling him nearer. “Enough talk,” she said. If he came out with anything else like that, she might even cry and there’d been enough salt water between them already for one day.
***