It's an Ill Wind

"I rather do. I don't think he'd have the nerve to come round and look at you to laugh behind your back. He must feel absolutely horrible, too."

Dwayne nodded. Peggy went back to hall and showed Joe into the room.

The two men looked at each other. They were not dissimilar, Peggy thought, their ages being the main clear difference. Then Dwayne got up and they introduced themselves.

Joe apologised profusely, to be cut short after a little while by Dwayne, who told him that he understood he was not to blame. He showed him the bracelet and the necklace and Joe said that yes, he'd bought those for her. He'd hoped she would come and live with him; she was a good deal older but he hadn't minded; she'd been attractive, vivacious, sweet - then he again apologised when he realised this must be quite painful to hear for Dwayne.

"But she always told me she wasn't up to that yet," he concluded. "I wish I had known; I would have kept far from her."

Dwayne nodded. "I hope you'll take these thing with you," he said. "Er, I have found your photographs -" here Joe blushed fearfully - "and her underwear. I will not return those; I will destroy them, I think. Thank you for coming; it does answer another question. Er - she will be buried next Friday. You can come if you like; I have your address, so we will let you know."

Joe inclined his head. He shook hands again and took his leave.

Dwayne sat down at the table with his chin in his hands. He stared into the middle distance and tried to get some grip on his thoughts and emotions.

"I wish I knew if this was something I did or didn't do," he said. "I did try to make our marriage work out for the two of us. I thought it did and I - do you think Janet felt neglected?"

"She never talked about it - she never even hinted at that to me," Peggy said, "and I don't think she would have to Dick. Did she?"

Dick shook his head. "You'd better not try and blame yourself. From what I've seen you've been attentive enough."

Dick and Peggy had always thought Dwayne and Janet were a model couple, and they thought highly of Dwayne. But appearances had proved very deceitful.

Myra and Dwayne's father came over the next morning. They arrived almost at the same time, and the three of them sat talking together for a long time, discussing the arrangements Dwayne had made. Then Janet's mother left again.

"So what's troubling you?" his father asked as soon as they were alone. He knew his son too well not to notice, and he though it was rather strange that Dwayne was so tense and quiet.

Dwayne smiled mirthlessly. He gave the main details and sighed. "You will keep this to yourself, won't you?" he said.

"You do know me by now, don't you?" His father considered the situation. "Rosie mustn't hear of this, nor must Myra. This is some predicament, son."

Dwayne nodded. "Peggy, my neighbour, has offered to take care of Rosie between school hours and my return in the evening. Rosie likes her a lot."

"That's one thing, at least." He rubbed his temples. "I would never have expected it of her. You never really know anyone at all, do you?"

When his father had left, Dwayne pulled himself together and went through his late wife's possessions. He found some more sexy underwear, some leather stuff and a spiked dog collar with a metal eye plus a latex dildo hidden at the back of a shelf of sweaters, together with a small bunch of letters Joe Tillotson had written to her, addressed to a mailbox. He read a couple of them and it became very clear from them that Joe had really had no idea of the role Janet had played. The sexual detail was very unpalatable to him, and after the third one he burnt the lot in the stove.

Well, he thought, so that is that. He put her clothes into a couple of bin liners, with the exception of the sexy things. He put the articles she'd worn into the washing machine and when they were clean and dry he stuffed the lot into a fresh bag and put them into the wardrobe. He took her other clothes to the local charity, and then he drove back home, sat down and took stock of his situation.

There was Rosie, to begin with. It was very important that she should get through this disaster unscathed, with as little trouble as possible, and that meant that he would have to put himself onto an even tighter schedule than before; he would have to make a lot of time to do things together, and be both father and mother for her... So much for his social life. Oh well, first things first.

The burial was a very subdued affair, even more so than usual. Most people attributed his speech to shock, just as Peggy had thought; there were only one or two who had their doubts. All Janet's friends were there, as were his, and Joe was there, too. He tactfully stayed in the background but he had a difficult job keeping his tears in check. He had really loved Janet very much, notwithstanding their age difference, and her death had hit him very hard.

After the burial Dwayne went out for dinner with Rosie, his father and his mother-in-law. They mainly talked about the burial and Janet. Myra looked at Dwayne a couple of times, but refrained from asking him what was on her mind; she, for one, had found his speech completely out of character, and she didn't understand his reticence over dinner either.

A couple of weeks after the burial she came round of an evening, and confronted him with it. He didn't want to put her wise, but she was no fool.

"Look here," she said. "I'm not too easily shocked, and I think you ought to tell me. I called your father and he wouldn't speak; I suppose you asked him not to. I am too old to have to be protected from unpleasantness, and I certainly don't believe her death was your fault, but there was clearly something wrong. You didn't say anything really nice about her at all; it was just facts."

Rather reluctantly Dwayne let himself be drawn. "I'm very sorry," he said, "but I really couldn't have said anything else. Janet had a lover for well over a year, and she died in his drive. I had no idea until I called her cell phone and got the hospital on the line."

"So that's what was wrong. Alright, at least now I understand. Are you still angry?"

Dwayne considered her question. "No," he said. "But my good memories are tainted by this. I do try to be honest to her. I really do."

He was silent for some time. Then he said, "We had decided Rosie and you should not be told."

"Rosie certainly shouldn't," Myra said. "But I think in my case you erred on the side of prudence. I don't think Janet would ever have been happy with one man; she always struck me as somewhat flighty, and I think she managed to keep herself out of trouble for longer than I'd have given her credit for."

Dwayne said he couldn't say.

"I could. Well, I'll be off. Do you mind if I do come round again some day?"

"Mind? Of course not," Dwayne said. "I'll be happy if you do. Rosie loves you, and she's only got two grandparents left, and I love to have you around, too. Losing Janet is bad enough."

"Alright, then," Myra said. "Keep going; you'll get over it." She kissed Dwayne on the cheek and left.

Dwayne found it hard to fall into his new routine. He did adhere to it with an effort, and he felt very lonely at times. He missed Janet. The longer ago the disaster was, the more he missed her. The sense of betrayal was still there, but it was a little below the surface of the old love he felt for her.

He spent his evenings reading, and his weekends were for Rosie. He took her walking in the vicinity, and went camping; they visited adventure parks and they sometimes went to the seaside as Rosie loved pottering about with buckets and spades. She often talked about Janet; she remembered all the good things clearly.

He'd wondered if he could ask her about the times Janet would come home late but decided against it. Rosie didn't know there had anything been amiss, and he was determined she'd never find out.

Every now and then Rosie went to stay with her grandmother for the weekend. Dwayne would take her to Myra on Friday afternoon and collect her on Sunday night, and it gave him some time to do those thing he'd not got round to over the months.

He loved Rosie, and she clung to him, but he missed a grown-up to talk to, apart from the neighbours who came round every now and then.

They left the subject alone for almost a year unless Dwayne felt like talking about it; he could always find a listening ear with them. But he was rather reticent and his responsibilities came first.

One evening Peggy did touch on the subject. Dwayne gave an evasive answer, but Peggy wasn't having any and berated him about his behaviour.

"Why don't you find yourself something nice to do?" she said. "Join a choir, go and play bingo -" Dwayne made a face - "join a reading club or buy a set of golf clubs. But do stop being a recluse. There's lots of nice people to talk to and there's lots of nice women out there who'd love to have you. You're not bad-looking and you are well-spoken. Do something!"

Dwayne gave a noncommittal answer. He realised that she was right; but he didn't quite feel up to the challenge, and he didn't know if he could ever trust a woman again. Perhaps he should try and play golf? But he felt that that was a sport for the elderly, rather than a forty-year-old, and he couldn't sing. He smiled when he imagined himself in a choir. They'd probably try and find out where the noise came from...

"Anyway," Peggy interrupted his thoughts, "we're having a party next Saturday. You will come, won't you? Rosie will be alright as we're only next door."

Dwayne accepted. Even though he didn't like that sort of event too much he felt he really owed it to them, and it would mean a change from staying at home all the time.

The party was a very busy kind of affair, with hordes of people he didn't know. Peggy introduced him to a lot of people, most of them women, and he chatted quite pleasantly with some of them.

One in particular struck him. Madge was in her early thirties, she had a good figure and was fun to talk to. She had big, sleepy eyes, and gave him a come-hither look that he found very sexy. He drifted from one person to the other, but found himself returning to Madge, and eventually he almost exclusively talked to her. To his own surprise he agreed to go and have dinner at her place the following Friday.

He told Peggy, and asked her if she could keep an eye on Rosie that evening.

"And in the morning, too," she said with a grin.

"The evening will be enough," Dwayne said, turning red.

Peggy nodded. "Only joking," she said. "I will take care; have fun."

Madge had cooked a brilliant dinner; she was a good and enthusiastic cook.

They had a nice meal, and Madge told him a lot of things about herself. Then she asked him his story.

Dwayne told her a little. He was disinclined to tell her too much about his marriage, but to his discomfort she started prying. He kept giving noncommittal answers; but it didn't feel good.

Eventually Madge gave up. When the conversation got back to neutral ground he recognised the young woman of the party again.

Dwayne left at eleven. Madge was rather disappointed as she'd hoped to make him stay the night, but they did arrange for her to come and visit him the following week.

He gave Madge a lot of thought that week. She had seemed very nice and desirable at the party, but he wasn't so sure now. If she really was as nice as he'd thought it would probably show, and if she wasn't...

They had arranged for her to come at five, but she was there at four thirty while Dwayne was still cleaning the vegetables. She looked at him work.

"That's the wrong way to do it," she said. "Let me have that knife."

A little taken aback, Dwayne handed her the knife.

"Look," she said. "This is the right way."

He hardly noticed the difference and stood looking on with his hands in his trouser pockets. Janet had never found fault with him or told him he did things wrong. He expected she would hand back the knife to him but she didn't.

Then Rosie came home, and Dwayne introduced Madge to his daughter. Rosie looked at her, but she didn't say anything.

Madge didn't have a way with children. She thought they were something of a nuisance, and she'd not reckoned with Rosie's presence. But she didn't give it too much thought; instead she took over Dwayne's cooking entirely.

It made Dwayne feel immensely uncomfortable. He tried to ignore the feeling by doing different things like laying the table and getting Rosie to participate. Madge didn't notice the hints he dropped for that participation so he had her help him instead.

Dinner was a little strained. The meal Dwayne had intended to cook wasn't his any more, and Madge had used rather too many spices to Rosie's liking.

Dwayne tried to make conversation with the three of them. Rosie sat looking at Madge, and she hardly said anything, and Madge talked almost exclusively to Dwayne. Now and again she stopped halfway her sentence whenever her ring-tone indicated that there was another text message, and she took her time to answer all of them.

After dinner had been cleared away they went to the living room.

"Isn't it time Rosie went to bed?" Madge said.

Rosie looked at her with wide eyes. They always watched TV together, either a movie or some DVD, and she didn't want to go to bed yet. To her relief Dwayne explained their routine to the woman. She hoped he wouldn't ask her over too often; she didn't really like her.

Madge felt very irritated by the procedure. She'd not come to watch some children's programme, and Dwayne seemed rather too much involved in the brat. She sighed and decided that she'd call it a day after that evening.

Rosie went to bed at nine, and Madge left at ten.

"We're not going to work out together, I think," she said.

Dwayne nodded. "I'm afraid you're right," he said. "I hope you're not angry about it; but I'm really tied to Rosie, and Janet's death is still too much on my mind, I suppose. Thank you for trying, though. I really appreciated being with you."

She smiled a little sadly. "Yes," she said. "Well, goodbye then. See you!"

Dwayne felt rather unhappy about it. At the party he'd hoped this might be the beginning of something good. He felt lonely and he needed an arm around his shoulder, and more; but he was not going to plunge headlong into something wrong just because his hormones played havoc.

He went upstairs and looked at his sleeping daughter for some minutes. She, he realised, was the real touchstone for him; if a possible new partner didn't like Rosie, or if Rosie didn't like her, it was bound to fail.

When Rosie came downstairs the next morning she asked Dwayne if he liked Madge.

"Yes, I do," Dwayne said, "but she isn't my type, I'm afraid. I don't think she really knows how to deal with children. So don't worry, I won't be seeing her again."

"I didn't like her too much," Rosie said.

Dwayne smiled at his daughter. "What shall we do today?" he said.

Some days later, when he collected his daughter at the neighbours, Peggy asked him about the progress he'd made with Madge.

He shook his head. "It's off," he said. He explained briefly what had happened.

"She's not a bad girl," Peggy said. "But I think the age difference is far too big. Would you like a new girlfriend?"

Dwayne made a face. "What do you think?" he said. He shook his head. "But Rosie comes first. I think it'll be hard to find someone who likes both me and her. And I don't want anyone who starts finding fault with me from scratch."

Peggy looked at him and shook her head. She was rather worried about him. If only she could get him to divert his attention a little. Rosie should come first, of course, but not to the exclusion of all and everything. Dwayne was progressively looking more strained, and she was afraid he might have a massive breakdown if he didn't find another interest besides his daughter.

"Remember what I said about some outside contacts?"

"There's always people at work."

"Yes, but that's not what I mean. That's just work, and you've got quite enough of that as it is. Far too much, I'd say. Frank, a friend of Dick's, told us about a reading circle he's in. It sounded interesting, I thought. Why don't you go and join them?"

Dwayne considered her idea; he knew he was too narrowly focussed on Rosie and work alone. "I might give it a try, perhaps," he said. "I think I do read enough as it is, but perhaps I'll discover some new writers that way."

He took Rosie home and thought about Peggy's proposition. Eventually he decided it really might be a good idea to try and see if he liked that sort of thing.

When he had put Rosie to bed he went over to the neighbours and asked Peggy how he could contact Frank. She gave him his phone number, and asked him to stay a moment for a cup of coffee. Dick came down from his study and they chatted amicably for some time.

When he was home again he dialled the number.

"Hello?"

"This is Dwayne Rushing. I'm trying to find Frank Colby."

"Speaking. Peggy told me about you; would you like to come to an evening of our circle?"

"Er, yes please. I'm not quite sure if it is what I'm trying to find..."

"Well, there's no harm in trying, is there?"

Frank told him they met every other Wednesday from eight thirty to ten in a pub some ten miles away, roughly in the centre of the various members' homes.

"You'll be the one who lives farthest away," Frank said.

"Is there anything I ought to prepare?"

"We're discussing 'Snow Falling on Cedars' next week; you might read that if you can squeeze it in."

"I've read it. I'll gladly do so again, though; it's very good."

"Alright then. We'll be happy to have another male on the team. See you on Wednesday."

Dwayne found his copy of Guterson's novel and sat down to reread the story of Hatsue and Ishmael. He found the book as wonderful as the first time, but now he could allow himself to read it more slowly and to pay more attention to the quality of the writing.

When he looked at his watch he found it was eleven thirty; well past his bedtime. He grinned.

The next evening he told Peggy he'd taken her advice.

"Good for you, my boy," she said. "I hope you'll like it."

"I'm reading 'Snow Falling on Cedars' again. That, at least, is a good idea."

"Ok. Well, keep me informed."

"I will," Dwayne said. "You're a real friend."

That Wednesday he drove off at eight. Rosie was asleep, and she knew he would be out. Peggy had promised to look in on Rosie one or twice, and Rosie had Peggy's number just in case; but she was a fast sleeper and she never used it.

At the pub he was received by Frank. He realised he had met him at his neighbours' once or twice. They shook hands and Frank took him to the room they met in. The circle consisted of nine people in all, six women and three men; Dwayne would be number ten. He shook hands all round, and when asked he told them briefly who and what he was. Then they embarked on a discussion of the book.

Dwayne kept a little in the background at first. He looked at the faces round the table, and decided they seemed alright. He liked Frank and Bob, and two of the women looked really nice as well. He listened to the discussion and noticed that three of the participants didn't have much reading experience; the others' opinions seemed generally well-founded, even though he didn't agree with all he heard. He was asked his opinion one or twice and diffidently put forth his own ideas. He felt the others' eyes on him; they were obviously interested in what he had to say, and he slowly thawed a little.

It was nice. Yes, it was really a good idea, and he enjoyed sitting there talking and listening; it was quite a diversion and he forgot his daily chores and worries for the duration of the evening.