TGI Chronicles Pt. 1 Ch. 09

"Did you expect them to?" I wasn't that happy that Mary seemed to want to interfere in something that had nothing whatsoever to do with her.

She sighed and looked at me. "I'm in two minds about all of this." She started to pour me a cup of tea. "If anyone else had done what Beth has done I would say 'Get rid of the slut'. But she is my daughter. I want her to be happy. But I can't and won't interfere. But I do need to understand her, so that I can support her through what is obviously a tragically unhappy period for her." She looked up at me.

"Go on." I felt a little ameliorated.

"Well, I know that Beth came to see you last night. She spent all day cooking to make sure she could take the perfect meal. She made three bannoffee pies before she got one that she was happy with. If you'd like another one...?" She smiled.

I just sat there, sipping my tea and waiting.

"Well" she went on "We heard her car come back. George and myself were on tenterhooks, waiting to find out what sort of mood she would be in. But she didn't come in. We didn't hear her at the front door even. Eventually, we went out to find her. She was sitting in her car crumpled over the steering wheel and in floods of tears. All she could say was 'I've lost him, Mummy' and a lot of incomprehensible sobs."

She looked at me, I don't know what she saw, but I wanted her to continue. "George sort of manhandled her out of the car, and got her into the sitting room and gave her a brandy. She still wasn't talking, or not in a way we could understand. It was mainly 'I've lost him forever' and something to do with a Meissen plate which we didn't understand at all. After half an hour of it, she calmed down a bit and I suggested that she should go to bed, that there was plenty of time to talk later. Well, we heard her still sobbing as we went to bed. And this morning she didn't come down at all. I knocked at her door, and she just told me to go away. That's when I phoned you. Then just before lunch she came down, looking dreadfully pale, and said she was going to work and she went off. George and myself are worried sick. I don't know what happened last night, but, please Tim, help me to help her."

She stopped and looked at me. I ate a smoked salmon finger sandwich. What was I to do. What happened between myself and Beth was nothing to do with Mary and George. I was rather glad that I'd obviously got through to Beth that we were at the end. At least she will really have to think about what she did, maybe she'll learn something. But I was faced with a mother, worried sick over her child. "I can only tell you what we did last night. I don't know what Beth thinks anymore, maybe I never did."

"Please, Tim...."

I told her the events of the previous evening, including my analogy of the Meissen plate, as well as I could remember it. Mary listened quietly and intently, a half eaten piece of Dundee cake in her hand. When I finished, she finished her cake and sat looking at me, then she smiled.

"What?" I asked.

"You've just explained something."

"I meant to. You asked me to." I was mystified.

"Oh. No. Not about Beth's mood. About your marriage." she looked at me. "You see, Tim. Us parents watch our children grow up. We know them, we understand them. But they then bring this stranger along and declare they want to spend the rest of their lives with this person. Now, I don't know about other parents, but I wanted to understand where the common ground was between you. What makes this relationship work. And you were a mystery to me, you always have been."

"Gee. Thanks." I said sarcastically

"No. Don't get offended. But Beth is a romantic. She's always loved poetry, myths, and fairy stories. She went to university to do English Literature. What was she doing with this man who was a mathematician? You are analytical, logical, you use rules. Even emotions you put in a pigeon hole marked Unpredictable. You accept them, live with them, but they don't follow the rules, do they?"

"So?"

"Well, then I realised that Beth uses rules as well. The rules of the English language. She understands and uses them well. So I could see how she gets to talk and be with you, but I never saw any understanding, any part of her world in you. You've just revealed that. No wonder you got through to Beth." she sat back, taking another piece of cake with a little smile and "I shouldn't really."

"I'm pleased to help." I smiled. I'm not sure her theory was true, but I guess from inside a relationship you see it differently.

"But you're wrong with your analogy, you know.." she observed.

"Tell me." I was interested.

"Well I think a marriage is two people, with a lot of sweat and hard work, building a house out of bricks and mud and straw. You work hard, and you build something, that if your lucky, is strong and you both think is far more beautiful than any Meissen plate could ever be. And you go on building it all your lives. George and myself are still building ours. And we think it's beautiful, it's got some odd features that even we can't remember why we built them like that, and we don't go into all of the rooms quite so often these days, if you know what I mean. But it still fit for purpose as they say, and we like it." she paused.

"Go on" I prompted.

"Well, in the house you and Beth built, Beth suddenly took a sledge hammer and knocked it all down one Friday morning. None of us knows why she did it, I'm not sure even she really knows. But you and Beth stand in the ruins. It's a pile of rubble. I suspect that some of the walls are still in one piece, but they've fallen over. Now she wants you to build it up again."

"You're wrong about the sledgehammer bit. She didn't knock it down in one mad morning's destruction. She spent three months going down to the cellar and scraping away at the mortar between the foundation stones. And then the lady next door came along on the Friday morning and blew it down with one puff of breath." I sat back, pleased with myself.

She considered what I had to say, "Would you like another cup of tea?"

"Yes, please" I said.

As she poured it she continued, "Anyway, your correction is accurate. But the real question is: Will you build it again? Or will you go off in the hope of finding another plot of land, and another builder's mate?"

"Taking your analogy, Beth and myself had a very beautiful house. I loved living in it. And she destroyed it, without a word to me, and she won't even tell me why. And I want it back, and I can't build it up again, or not with her."

"Oh, come on Tim, your brighter than that. You've got to accept that that house has gone. Yes it was wrong that Beth destroyed it. And Yes, she should explain herself. But it's gone. Whatever you build with her or someone else will be different. What is it they say these days, wake up and smell the coffee?"

"Yes, I know that Mary. I hate it, but I know it. But there is no point in building anything with Beth. Some of the bricks have been destroyed forever by her. They've crumbled away to dust. And even if we do build a new house, how am I going to know that she won't be down in the cellar again, scraping away?"

I drank my tea. Mary sat quietly, thinking.

"You don't Tim. There are no guarantees in life. For all I know, George might have had several scraping interludes in our cellar over the years. I don't know, but we go on building and I think we're both happy doing so. And can you guarantee that your new builder's mate, if you find her, will not do the same?"

"No, but she won't have a track record of doing it."

"No, but she won't have seen the pain and hurt that doing it causes either. She won't have had the experience of having stood in the rubble of her own making."

"I'm sorry Mary. We're not going to agree on this one. Let's leave it for this afternoon."

We finished our tea, and went our separate ways. I'm not sure what I felt as I walked back to the office. I think I was slightly miffed at having Mary question my analysis.

As I got to the office I met a bunch of the department heading out, including Dave. I looked at my watch. It was ten to six. Was I going over the road? Just for a quick one I said, I've got lots of packing to do. I went up to my office, there were a couple of non-urgent messages, nothing that couldn't wait. So I went to the pub.

My department were in a group and already had their drinks by the time I got there. As far as I could see, the only others from the company in there were Don McIntyre holding court to his own marketing team, standing round in a separate group. Well we can't have marketing talking to the lowly guys who give them something to sell, after all. I went and got myself a drink.

As I turned from the bar, pint in hand, Dave came over "What happened to you, then? You disappeared."

"I had afternoon tea with my mother-in-law at the Carlton Hotel, if you want to know."

Dave looked aghast. "Well, I'm glad to hear that the standards of civilised behaviour are being maintained, whilst the bullets fly over head!"

"Well it was bit like that, if you must know. She's a wily old bird, is Mary. She can really, but oh so gently, campaign for her errant daughter. She gave me food for thought, but I have to laugh at the way she did it. I can see where Beth gets her PR talent from." Talking to Dave was beginning to crystallize my thoughts. I took a long draught of my beer.

I looked at Dave "What do you know about flowers?"

"What flowers that grow in the spring tra la? That sort of flowers?"

"Yes."

"Well I know that roses rate higher than carnations in the saying sorry stakes. You can get away with blue murder if they're red roses. Why?"

"Not like that. I want to take some of the patio pots of flowers to my new place. But Beth accused me of not knowing which ones to choose. So I've got to sort of get it right. It's a matter of pride."

At that point there was a general waving of hands and shouts of farewell as the marketing team left. All except Alice, that is. She headed towards myself and Dave.

"Where's that lot going? We don't often see the sales team leave the pub this early on a Friday." asked Dave, when she approached.

"Oh, there off to play a game of baseball against a team from C&J Bank. It sounded like an excuse for the boys to tell silly stories and get very drunk. Not my scene."

"Well, they could have invited me." Dave sounded peeved.

"Why do you play baseball?" asked Alice, looking surprised.

"No, but I'm very good at getting drunk and telling silly stories." We both looked at him with mock disgust.

I turned to Alice "Alice, you're a lady who knows what's what. How are you on patio flowers?"

"Very good. Dad used to own a garden centre. Why?"

"Nothing. I just wondered what you were doing on Sunday?" I replied smiling.

---

Saturday was a busy day of packing. I went down to Blindside once, to look around on my own, and to come back with a couple of fresh ideas of things to take. I'd given up worrying about upsetting Beth with what I was going to take. If there was anything she wanted back, well it was only five miles down the road.

Sunday, Dave and Alice turned up in one car. And we started. We made a trip with a full van, and then we tried my new local, the Black Swan. It turned out to very good, which was a surprise. I remember trying it once, when Beth and myself first moved here, and it was awful. But a new landlord and ...

Alice had given her advice on the pots, and with the rest of the stuff, the roof terrace was looking good. Alice wanted to put some pots at the foot of the outside staircase, but I refused. It didn't seem such a good idea to have pots where builders were working. She also quietly arranged things in the new flat, so that everything looked good, suggesting I take things that would harmonise colours and make the best of things that didn't quite match. She also spotted that the cushions from the guest room would look great on the new sofa!

Both Alice and Dave were wonderful, cheerful and helpful, but I was also aware that they realised that this whole day was devoted to breaking up what had been a very happy home.

By five o'clock I was fully installed, and we were sitting in the living room, exhausted but satisfied, drinking a cup of tea.

Dave looked across at me "How much you paying for this place? Its rather good, definitely better than mine."

I told him, without telling him it was half rent. "Bloody hell, Tim. That's a lot less than I pay. You jammy bugger!"

I eased his pain by admitting to the half rent. He looked mollified, but he did say it was still a good deal, which pleased me. He took some more tea, and looked at me again "So how did you know I'd split with Maddy?"

"Ah! You don't know how close you came to either making or breaking your career, and I'm not sure which." And I told him the story. That led to Alice asking about Dave's current status, and it then struck me as odd that they hadn't ever got together. He chased every available woman, and there was Alice working in the same company, and to the best of my knowledge they'd never got together. So I asked.

Dave sort of went quiet, and ate a biscuit. So I looked at Alice, there was obviously a story here somewhere, perhaps it had to wait until I got one of them on my own. But Alice answered "Well, Dave did try, within my first month at TGI, in fact I think it was the first time I actually went to the pub on a Friday night. But his reputation had got to me before that. In fairness, it was more to do with the fact that I'd just come out of a bad bad phase of my life, the last thing I needed was a date, even with a nice guy like Dave."

"Oh, I'm a nice guy now am I?" said Dave, smiling. "At the time, I didn't stand a chance, even if I was the last man on earth, if I remember right, Alice?"

"Did I say that. Oh God. I'm sorry. That's an awful thing to say. But I was pretty low and very off men at that time. I've got a better, more balanced view these days, and I keep to a set of good rules."

"What rules like I'd get spanked if I broke them?" I asked jokingly, trying to break into a conversation that was becoming exclusive.

"No, rules like only date guys where something might be meaningful. No desperate one night stands. In fact, no stand at all until the third date at the earliest."

"Does carrying pots around at your behest count as a date" asked Dave, now well into flirting mode.

"Maybe, maybe not." came from Alice, with a look that joined him in the flirting stakes.

Dave glanced at me, and decided that now was not the time or place. "So, Tim, are you getting a new car to go with your new found position?"

"Yup."

"What are you going to get. And don't make it too good, I'm already jealous of this flat."

"Well, I sneaked a BMW Z4 out of Charlie. I think I caught him with a weak chink in his armour."

"Nice. Suits your new image. That and this flat, you should be giving me some real competition." He smiled at me.

Alice looked at me. "No, Tim's the nice guy sort. You're the challenge, Dave."

We chatted on, I decided that the bottle of champagne that I'd brought, That Bottle, needed opening. And we made short work of drinking it, with toasts to my new life, my new flat, my new car, my new office, my new secretary (whoever she might be), and even to the pots on the roof terrace.

Then someone said, what about some food. I said I hadn't got much in. So they started to discuss where to eat out. Chinese? Italian? Indian? English pub? In the end, the chilli at Not Steinbeck's was chosen by both of them, I was told I couldn't vote because I'd never been there.

I didn't fancy that. I had had a good day; I was in my new flat, I didn't need the thoughts that Not Steinbeck's might encourage. And anyway I quite fancied being in the flat all by myself. So I let them go off, and leave me in peace.

As the sun was setting, I was standing on my terrace, watching the river and thinking philosophical thoughts about how I'd ended up here, on how my life was moving on, on how I could imagine leaving Beth behind and all she meant to me, when my phone rang. It was Phil.

"Yes, Phil."

"What happened to you and Beth on Thursday?"

"Not a lot. Why?"

"Well, she's terribly upset. For the first time she really seems to believe that you're going to divorce. Mary says she's a lot better now than when she came home on Thursday evening. But, God, she's a mess."

I gave him a quick summary of Thursday evening, and of my meeting with Mary on Friday.

Phil interrupted me, "I don't know what this is about, but maybe it goes back to that meeting you had with Mary. She asked me to ask you 'Where are you going to start building?' It didn't make sense to me."

"Don't worry, Phil, it wouldn't. I'll explain it all to you when I see you. But, in the meantime, if you see Mary, tell her I'm not building, I'm at Blindside Trafalgar House, and it's kitted out for one, and doesn't need building. But I'm happy to talk to anyone who has a building project in mind. And over the coming months I expect I'll start spotting some possible applicants. So if she knows of anyone who might like to apply, they should get in quick before it's too late."