Double Glazing

"John. My wife has told me about her plans for next weekend. Thank you for standing in again. I think that stuff is rubbish, but she loves it. I understand you are going to Atcham. You had better take the Jag. I won't be using it. I doubt that my wife would be comfortable in that Ford of yours." He managed to make the word 'Ford' sound like a profanity. I was speechless for a moment.

"Eh......Yes. Well no trouble, Aubrey."

"Good. Oh and John, let me know what the ticket price is. I'll cover that." He left, seemingly as embarrassed as I, leaving a vacuum of unanswered questions. One of them was why he never called her Eve, always 'my wife'.

In the afternoon, Eve phoned.

"Have you seen Aubrey?" The question was posed immediately after saying hello to me.

"I have indeed. I was somewhat surprised as well." She gave a soft laugh down the phone.

"Are we going?"

"I was offered the Jag, to go in. I can't pass that up, can I?"

"No, I suppose not." She sounded a little disappointed. I realised that that wasn't the thing to say, to imply that the Jag was more important than her company. I quickly added.

"But that fades into insignificance compared to the company I shall have." I heard her chuckle.

"Great recovery! You got out of that well. Can you get tickets for us?"

"That's no problem. It's in the meadow, so no seats to book. We can pay at the gate."

"You said that people take a picnic, is that right?"

"Yes, they do. There is usually a break for about an hour round about six. That's when the hampers come out."

"Right. I shall prepare the picnic. Oh, and John."

"Yes?"

"I am happy to go in your car if you wish. Aubrey thinks that we should go in style; it shows that he can afford it. I don't have those pretensions."

"We'll go in my car then. To be honest I would have nightmares if I were to get his precious Jag scratched."

I had some thinking to do. How had Eve coerced Aubrey into agreeing with this? It was puzzling, first her conviction that when she talked to him, he would agree, and secondly his attitude when he saw me in the office. There seemed to be guilt there, guilt and embarrassment. Suddenly a light clicked on in my head. Of course, he would know that I understood his excuse for the weekend was rubbish. The journal was on my desk, the latest edition was always there, with the reading list for it on a post-it note. But what did Eve know that had made him so amenable? I knew not, and probably never would. It did promise me a convivial day at the concert with Eve; I did not consider for even a moment that Eve had any interest in me. I was just a convenient escort, sharing our enjoyment of classical music.

Eve phoned me twice over the next few days. First of all to ask what she should wear. I advised her to be casual.

"It is a meadow, and I doubt that heels would be practical, flats and slacks, oh and bring a warm sweater, it could get cool later. I will take a couple of boat chairs from the showroom, so we won't have to sit on the grass." The second time she called was to ask me if I had any food allergies. Not to my knowledge.

"I have eaten so many take-away curries over the years that I suspect my stomach has become inured to most foods, and also some very strange ingredients." Eve laughed brightly.

"Well you're not getting a curry. The menu will be Pate and French Toast, cold chicken and salad, and some strawberries with cream. Oh and wine."

"Sounds delightful. I am hungry already."

"And I am hungry for culture." Eve replied. "John, I am so looking forward to this, a concert! I haven't been to one in years."

I arranged to pick her up at one o' clock that Saturday. It would take us about an hour to get to Atcham Park, we would have to queue to get in, then park and find somewhere to settle, so a margin of time before the concert started at four would be useful.

*

Chapter Three

Eve was waiting for me when I arrived at her home. It was a very different woman to the one I had seen before. The gold chain was there, over a check shirt, and she was wearing jeans. You can tell with jeans, good brands fit well; cheap ones look as if they are a sum of parts not actually related. Eve's jeans were more than good, I doubt if there was much change out of four hundred quid for them. Her lips were glossed with just a little lipstick; apart from that her face was bare of make-up. Her sunglasses were parked up in her dark brown hair. She looked younger without the make-up. Eve asked me to come in and carry the hamper to the car. Yes! A Hamper and it was heavy. My mind marvelled with anticipation of delicious things. Eve, though delicious, was not included in my mind's menu.

Once on our way, Eve became chatty.

"I had to sneak these jeans in without Aubrey seeing them. He would have a fit if he saw me wearing them."

"Why? You look damned good in them."

"Thank you, John." There was pleasure in her voice. "Aubrey thinks that Jeans are down-market, and therefore no wife of his should wear them." I made no reply to that, and it seemed that Eve didn't expect one, as she carried on. "I am really looking forward to the concert; do you know what they will be playing?"

"Yes, I had a look at the flyer they sent. There's 'Morning' and 'Solveig's song' from Peer Gynt, Tchaikovsky's overture to 'Romeo and Juliet' and 'After the Storm' from Beethoven's Pastoral. I hope that isn't prophetic. Then after the break it's all rousing stuff, 'Jerusalem', 'Pomp and Circumstance' we get to sing along. There's more, but I can't remember exactly what."

"So you sing as well?" I grinned.

"I mouth the words. My singing voice is somewhere between Lee Marvin and Harpo Marx."

"Wasn't Harpo the one that never said a word?"

"Exactly, that's advice that should apply to my singing." Eve was grinning.

"You haven't heard me sing yet."

"I doubt that one false note could come from someone as lovely."

"The day is complete already. You have paid me two lovely compliments, more than I have had in years. Every girl should keep a literary man in tow." She sighed.

The next question was the one that women will ask of any single man.

"Do you have a girlfriend, or significant other?" I smiled a little at the expression significant other. I was well aware of the rumour sometimes circulating around Sunrooms, that I may be gay. No reason apart from my being thirty-one and single. Then of course there was my liking for the arts. Why is it that an appreciation of music and literature inevitably leads to rumours of homosexuality? Aubrey I am certain was the root of most of this gossip.

"At the moment I am between girlfriends, and no significant other." Eve was smiling.

"I thought you would pick up on that wording. Aubrey thinks you're gay, probably one of the reasons why he was not unhappy with you escorting me to the ballet and today. I didn't tell him you're not."

"Oh! And how do you come to that conclusion?" Eve was grinning.

"Women know." I could not see her face, I was driving, but I could hear the inflexion in her voice. "You looked me in the eye, and your eyes opened wider, which means you liked me. And, even though you did it on the sly, you looked at my breasts as well, more than once. Gay men don't tend to do that. I was rather flattered, as you seemed to like what you saw. It made me feel desirable again. I liked that."

What did she mean by that? Made her feel desirable again. For me the conversation was getting too personal. I cleared my throat, which for some unaccountable reason had got dry.

"Did Aubrey get off alright?"

"I would imagine that my husband is getting off as we speak." She replied bitterly. I could say little at that point. I understood the slang expression, yet hearing it from Eve's lips was quite a shock. My silence spoke more than words could. Eve broke the silence.

"Oh come on John. You know as well as I that there is no Fenestra seminar this weekend." I prevaricated.

"Well, no official one."

"John. Don't be kind to Aubrey. I can assure you that under the same circumstances he would happily drop you right in it. Besides I am fairly sure what my husband is doing this weekend, and next week I shall know for certain."

"What do you think is happening?"

"I am not going to say until I have the proof. If it is as I think, then I will go to my solicitor and start divorce proceedings. Please keep that confidential, John. I won't tell what he's doing as you have to work with him. That wouldn't be fair on you."

Eve was full of surprises. In the space of ten minutes she had put a full stop to the conversation twice. It was also good to know that the Golden Boy was possibly tarnished. I cleared my throat.

"To be truthful I was admiring the gold chain necklace." Eve picked up that I was referring to her comment about my wandering eyes and started to giggle, which was very infectious. I caught the bug and chuckled as well. Eventually she was able to say.

"Liar!" Then she giggled again. "But I didn't mind you looking." We were now on the motorway, North West of Wolverhampton, so I was able to relax my driving a little.

"Why didn't you go to University?" Eve asked. "I would have thought that with your interests that would be a certainty for you."

"I had the offer of a place at Durham. But my mother died, and dad was in a bad way. I couldn't go and leave him, so put my plans on hold. Then the job with Sunrooms came up. Dad was keen that I took the job and eventually that relegated the university idea into the background."

"Why did your dad push you to take the job?"

"He and Bob Sellick had been friends for years. He saw the job as more useful than getting a degree in English Literature, and becoming a teacher."

"Ah! That explains things." I took a sideways glance at her.

"Explains what?"

"Aubrey has always been disparaging about you, but I always felt there was something there that prevented him making your life a total misery. That you have a personal connection with Mr. Sellick explains that."

"My dad does, but I don't think that I have that connection."

"It doesn't matter if you do or don't. What does matter is that my husband believes it. He refers to you as Birch, or that man, you know. It's his way of telling people that you are unimportant."

"Yes I know. He speaks of you in a similar fashion. He always refers to you as 'my wife'. He never uses your name. I don't like that, as it objectifies you."

"Well that is what I am to him, an object!" Again, Eve made one of those statements that stop you in your tracks. Luckily she went on to explain. "Have you ever seen Aubrey's watch? Not the wrist watch, but the fob watch he wears with a waistcoat."

"You mean the Gold Half-Hunter?"

"Exactly! He flourishes it frequently as he wants everyone to know he has it, an antique Gold Half-Hunter! Well I am like that. I am that decorative vase you have on the shelf, it is just for looking at, and it has no use. That's me, an elegant ornament for his arm. He insists I dress as you saw me when you came round, so that I always look my best. That flatters him, not me. I am happier dressed like this. We have that big house, five bedrooms and three bathrooms, yet there is only the two of us. We have a lady in to clean, and a man to care for the garden, we mostly eat out, so I have little to do, I am just the pretty doll, waiting in the corner for its owner to pick up and play with. That's my life." Eve had pulled her sunglasses down during this speech, but I had seen the glint of a tear in her eye before she did that.

There was nothing to say. Everything she had said matched Aubrey's character exactly. His insistence that everyone should understand his success and the exhibition of his success, the public show-casing was very important to him. I put my hand over hers, and she covered mine with her left hand.

"Thank you. I am sorry about that outburst. Those thoughts have been going round in my head for months, no years. And I have never been able to let them out. Why I did with you, I don't know, except perhaps that I knew you would understand."

"I think I can understand."

"Yes. You would, After all we are both victims of Aubrey, each in our own way." She lifted her sunglasses and dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "I must look a sight now." She reached for her handbag.

"Yes." I said. "You do look a sight, a sight for sore eyes." Eve immediately laughed.

"Don't you mean a sight with sore eyes?" She examined her face in the mirror on the reverse of the sunshade. "It's a good job I didn't put mascara on this morning." She turned in her seat and watched me drive. I could sense a question being formed.

"Why do I feel so comfortable with you? John." I shrugged my shoulders.

"Possibly because I don't challenge you to be something you're not. We are acquaintances, I have no design upon you, and you have none on me. We can just be ourselves."

"Well you're certainly getting to see the real me." I could feel her demeanour change. "How much further is it?"

"We'll be about another twenty minutes."

*

Chapter four

I parked the car as close to the meadow as possible, and we carried the hamper between us. In my other hand I had the two boat chairs. They had carrying cases which unzipped completely to make a waterproof ground sheet, they were as light as modern manufacture could make them, but even so I was happy when we found a spot, with a good view of the stage, that had been erected in a natural shallow bowl in the parkland.

Having set up our chairs, we placed the hamper between us. Eve immediately offered me a choice of coffee, or wine.

"A glass of wine will go down well." She opened the hamper and I saw straight away why it was so heavy. Whilst appearing to be a normal wicker hamper, inside it was fully lined with insulating material. The top had small legs attached so that when opened fully it could act as a table. Very clever! "That's neat." I commented. Eve grinned.

"You know Aubrey. He has to have the best, even if he never uses it." I wondered if there was an innuendo there. She pulled out a bottle of Chardonnay, handing it to me. "Would you open this while I find the glasses?" The bottle was nicely cool, and had a screw top, I had opened it just as Eve handed me a cork pull. She looked at me with the open bottle and the cork screw in her hand.

"Oh!"

"It was a screw top." I explained. She looked perplexed, and then giggled.

"Aubrey would never, ever open a bottle of wine with a screw top. That wouldn't have class." I laughed with her.

"Well I'm downmarket. All the wine I drink comes from supermarkets, and has screw tops. Have you got the glasses?" Eve delved into the hamper and came up with two large goblets. She held them out and I poured. We raised our glasses. Eve looked curiously at me.

"No toast?"

"Well funnily enough, Shakespeare didn't cover the topic of drinking too well, so how about? To music and the company of good friends."

"That sounds right." Eve agreed with me and we drank.

"Nice wine." I commented.

"Thank you. I chose it myself. Not from Aubrey's cellar, but from the local shop."

"Your choice is impeccable."

The first half of the concert was thoroughly enjoyable, especially as when I glanced across at Eve, she was sitting spellbound the excitement plain on her face. Live music does tend to do that. When you see someone enjoying the spectacle as much as Eve was, it is contagious. It made me sad to think that she had been denied this pleasure for so long, and happy that I was the one who had facilitated her reunion with live music. At the finale to the first half she clapped so hard and so enthusiastically I was sure her hands would sting for minutes.

The hamper was opened and we set to the repast eagerly. With a mouthful of pate and salad I asked.

"So what do you think?" Eve's eyes sparkled.

"It was magic." Looking at me she continued. "I haven't enjoyed myself so much in years. I am listening to live music, in this lovely setting and with a truly gallant gentleman as company. What more could a girl wish for? I hope you are enjoying it as much as I, John?"

"Oh yes. But I doubt that I can match your delight. Your face gave you away. 'O! She doth teach the torches to burn bright'" I grinned at her bemused expression.

"Don't tell me." Eve smiled as she searched her memory for the source of the quotation. "I am sure I have heard it before, but can't place it." I opened my mouth. "No. Let me think." I returned to the pate and salad. "Ok, I give up. Where does it come from?"

"Romeo and Juliet."

"Of course. I should have remembered." She looked coyly in my direction. "That was another nice compliment. You could seduce a girl with those words you know." I had little to say.

In the second half the music took on a different air, stirring with marches like 'Liberty Bell' by Sousa, and everyone clapping along with the rousing refrain. Then towards the end we had 'Jerusalem' and 'Pomp and Circumstance No. 1'. It is a tradition that the words by Benson, 'Land of Hope and Glory', are only sung on the repetition of the melody, when the audience stand to sing. It was quite a sight on that summer evening when probably five thousand people rose as one and sang those words. Eve, emotional tears running down her cheeks, and I stood and sang along with them. The evening concert came to an end and the applause for the Conductor and orchestra, carried long after the Conductor had left his rostrum. To cheers he returned and picked up his baton again. I had no doubt that the encore was arranged well beforehand, as the orchestra easily went through the opening bars of 'Jupiter' from the Planet Suite. It has to be one of my favourite pieces. The combination of Holst's music and the lyric poem by Cecil Spring-Rice was haunting, and the audience was again on its feet to sing 'I vow to Thee My Country' a poignantly beautiful and most heartfelt of hymns. Surely this or 'Land of Hope and Glory' would be perfect anthems for this country, rather than the dirge we have. I have often envied the Americans their anthem, they have a pride in standing with the hands over their hearts to sing 'The Star Spangled Banner', whereas we in this country can only drone through ours looking to end it as soon as possible. The difference is that the American anthem is about an ideal, as is the French 'La Marseillaise'. Our anthem is to a person, when really it should be to our country and an ideal.

Unwillingly, and with sadness we packed the hamper and folded the chairs. As if by design a Church bell from the village which was a mile away started to toll. Grey's Elegy came to mind, and I recited "The Curfew tolls the knell of Passing day." Eve had the same thought and carried on with the second line, "The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea," I smiled and together we finished the first stanza, "The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me." Eve came and hugged me.

"Thank you, thank you for a magical day." Eve didn't relax the hug.

"Believe me, there was just as much pleasure for me." I replied, my arms went around her and went on without thinking. "A lovely summer's day, wonderful music, and a lady who's beauty surpassed both." My interest in Literature will get me into trouble one day. The look on Eve's face!

"John. I have never been complimented so much, and with such lovely words. But you must stop. I could get so used to it, and that would be bad for me." At that moment we looked into each other's eyes. The hug had become an embrace, Eve's eyes asked a question and mine answered. This was an epiphany moment. That fraction in time when you realised that your life was never going to be the same again.

We took our time packing the car; there was little point in hurrying as the queue of cars leaving was stationary. Sitting in the car patiently gave us an opportunity to recall the highlights of the music. We eventually left Atcham Park having sat for almost an hour waiting for the traffic to ease. I was tired, but it was a good tiredness. We had said little since that moment of the embrace. Eve suddenly broke the silence