Caroline Alone Ch. 03

"It's not a big deal and you haven't asked. I'm simply trying to help. Now I'm going to ring the office and tell them you're not coming in tomorrow. They'll understand."

"Thank you."

He makes the call and when he comes back Hazel has finished her tea and perked up. She's doing her best to smile for the children.

"I'm sorry about the seaside," she says looking at Jack. "I can manage now."

"You should do what my dad says," Ben tells her. "He always knows what to do."

"I will." Hazel drinks more tea while Jack collects what she needs.

It's a three hour journey along busy roads. When they arrive they find Hazel's sisters with her mother, a short, round woman with grey hair who greets him politely but seems not to know his name. It's different with her sisters who are all over Hazel and then inspect him and his children with insolent curiosity.

"So this is your boyfriend," said the younger one, Mimi, as she kisses Jack. "My ... he is tall, dark and handsome." To Jack she adds. "I thought we'd never be introduced. Hazel usually hides her boyfriends in the cupboard or under the bed."

Hazel doesn't challenge this description and moments later all attention is on the children, who hold back shyly until drawn in, petted, quizzed, given drinks and taken into the sitting room where they are set up to watch DVDs.

"I don't know where you're all going to sleep," says mother, walking in and looking at the sleepy children.

"Jack will sleep with Hazel and the children can go in dad's study," says the older sister Clementine.

"I can manage anywhere. On the floor if necessary," says Jack, glancing at Hazel.

She says nothing and departs with her mother to the kitchen to prepare dinner. He's left with the younger sister and takes the opportunity to discover what he can from Mimi about Hazel's family life. Apparently she was the smart one from the day she went to school, won all the prizes including a scholarship to Cambridge and can't explain to any lay person what her academic subject is. Mimi in turn demands to know all about Jack and remarks that Hazel's men who get introduced vanish by the time she sees her sister again.

"How frequently do you meet?" he asks wryly.

"At least once a year. She gives the impression of being a ball-breaker."

"I've not noticed. But she's hard to get to know."

"Hazel won't buy us sweets because they're bad for us, or chocolate because it's made with slave labour," adds Ben. "But she's very nice."

"She said she never had dolls when she was my age," said Amy.

"She's a liar. She had dolls but got rid of them," said Mimi. "I have one of hers still. I had to buy it from her because she said she'd bury it in the garden as a protest. I'll show you."

Jack goes into the kitchen where Hazel's mother offers him coffee and biscuits. Hazel is peeling potatoes and both have been crying. He asks if he can help and is told to go away.

He goes back to the sitting room and sits with Clementine, who also talks about Hazel. She wants to know about her work and Jack explains the firebrand feminism, and the shock interventions at the faculty board meetings, and the concern for students and the incisive deconstruction of literary texts.

Over dinner he has to tell the story of himself and his family, with the children chipping in. There's a sombre gap at the end of the table where father would sit and an eagerness to laugh at anything. Of course he says nothing about Damien and with the children present the others can't ask why he's left their mother. He talks about his old job and how pleased he is to have given it up.

Later he has a moment with Hazel and tells her he can't take advantage of the situation to end up in her bed.

"Don't be stupid," she says. "I'm not going to rape you and we're both grown up. We both need a good sleep."

He deals with bathing the children and getting them to bed. Mimi gives a hand and gets some books from when she was a child to read to them. She's very like Hazel, but softer and gentler. It makes him realise how much he admires and responds to Hazel's spikiness; he needs a woman who's mentally tough and gives as good as she gets without complaint. She might be difficult to know, but if she thinks something's important, she'll say so.

They all have a drink before bed -- Hazel has just the tonic water. Everyone is subdued, thoughts no doubt on their loss, and Jack sips his scotch wishing he'd met Hazel's father.

"Dutch courage!" he remarks, hoping to lift the mood, and knocks back his drink when it's time for bed. Everyone giggles and Hazel slaps him. He says goodnight and takes her arm, leading her upstairs.

He gets into bed first. She potters about, changes in the adjoining bathroom and returns in a tee shirt with the words "Faculty Whore" emblazoned on it.

"Post ironic?" he asks.

"How would you know?" She turns out the light and folds herself into his arms.

He lets her lead. They kiss and she holds him tight. After a while she explores his body, the muscle on his forearm and the hollow of his armpit, the curve of hipbone and buttock. He reciprocates, his hand moving from shoulder to breast and he's only concerned that after such a long period of abstinence he'll disgrace himself. He smells her hair and bites her ear and runs his hand down her back. He's knows she can't resist. She's lost to him, willingly or otherwise, and he squeezes his fingers between her thighs. Moments later he's buried inside her and he's telling her that he won't last long. This proves to be a good prediction. But he starts again almost at once and concentrates on showing he's an accomplished lover. Hazel seems to like it and he tries to decide how experienced she is. All he can say is that despite her feminist zeal she's content for him to be the man of action while she lies back and takes it. They fall asleep clasped tightly in one another's arms and he can't remember the last time he was so happy.

It's very early next morning and they've just made love again when the children rush in demanding to know whether there's going to be any breakfast. Hazel and Jack lie side by side on their backs with the sheet pulled up to their chins.

"Hang on you two!" Jack protests. "You shouldn't come in to a grown-ups bedroom like that. You should at least knock."

"It's alright. We knew you were in bed with Hazel and it's time you were up," says Ben. "Mimi told us. She's been showing us the garden."

"Okay, you win, but don't do it again."

Alone again, Jack says to Hazel, "I should divorce Caroline and get this situation sorted out."

"I'm not the marrying type," warns Hazel.

"Maybe not, but you're mine. And I'm a one-woman man."

It's time to drive the children home.

A few days later, Jack goes for a coffee at the end of a difficult seminar on labour unrest in England before the First World War. When he was a student there would have been vigorous argument about the merits of organised labour, trades unions, socialism and communism, but now the young don't seem to care. It depresses him and he wonders how to make the subject exciting. The weather's warm and he takes his coffee outside and sits on the lip of the fountain that forms the centrepiece to the concrete piazza. He tries to relax and create the right frame of mind for work in the library for the remainder of the day. A student from the seminar comes over and asks about the reading list and he chats to her, aware that she's doing her best to flirt with him. He concentrates on thinking of alternatives to the books she can't find and eventually she leaves him alone. He closes his eyes, trying to empty his mind, looks up and sees a man, vaguely familiar, walking over to him. One of the faculty? -- he doesn't think so.

The man stands directly in front of him. "Look here. I want to talk to you."

Jack says nothing. The man wears a grey suit, has curly grey hair, a little long, and looks directly at him -- accusing him. Not faculty: this is his nightmare incarnate -- Damien Curde. Jack remains seated, motionless and tense, curious to see what's going to happen. It's a confrontation he's done his best to avoid but he's not sorry it's come. He looks steadily at Damien and although his enemy is fifty pounds heavier and intent on menace he knows he's not going to retreat. This is his ground and he'll not be beaten.

Damien's voice is thin with tension and there are flecks of spit as he speaks. He's nerved himself to have this confrontation. "I suppose it was your pathetic revenge. You fucked up my life so admit you sent that fucking email. It's obvious but you've got to admit it. You've got to sign this statement here. What you did was criminal but if you admit it I'll let the matter drop."

Damien's crowding Jack's space, thrusting forward a sheet of paper, eyes bulging, lips compressed, the spit on his chin.

"Go home." Jack doesn't know where this voice comes from; and with it he experiences a rush of adrenalin. He stands up so they're face to face and he's staring directly into the bloodshot eyes. It's hard to believe that this perfectly nondescript man has undermined and wrecked everything he spent his life building. He's not just defending himself but his new life, his children, the whole of civilisation. "I don't have to do anything. It's you that's fucked up. Now get out."

"I've spoken to the police about the burglary of my home. I gave them your name and they'll get you in the end. Much better sign this statement."

"Crawl back into your fetid hole and don't come out again. If you hang around and make trouble I'll happily kill you. Nobody will miss you."

"You're the loser. Just sign!"

Jack flicks his coffee so that the dregs splash Damian's shirt front and drop on his polished patent leather shoes. He thinks he'll lose if Damien fights; but so be it.

Damien is sweating -- not at all the cool, controlling consultant. This isn't the time for the "who pulled the first punch?" variety of honour. There are people around but nobody seems to be watching. Jack grabs Damien's lapel and tugs him round.

"Get out of here before I kick you out."

Damien swings round and lunges, his haymaker punch looping past Jack's cheek as he jerks to one side. The next one is on its way and he avoids it, responding with a flick of his wrist, knuckles scraping across Damien's stubbly chin. A return blow catches him in the ribs and winds him. Getting close, he jabs Damien's gut causing a deflating sigh, snatches hold of his tie and drags him forward. Damien staggers, one leg crashing into the raised side of the fountain. Before he can regain his balance, Jack gives him a push so that he trips over the lip and falls, water cascading everywhere.

A dozen people are watching. They don't look surprised and clap in a weary fashion as if they've seen it all before. No doubt it's common for undergraduates to end in the water after a night drinking. Damien splashes to the side of the fountain, but Jack walks away. It needs willpower but he continues without looking behind him. The paper he was told to sign is lifted by the breeze and flutters across the piazza and he keeps walking. He expects to be chased but he reaches the library and passes through the gate using his security card. He starts to tremble and sits down on the nearest seat, picking up a newspaper. He's feeling good. In fact he wants to shout at the top of his voice and punch the air.

The feeling lasts until evening when he's arranged to meet Hazel in the bar for a drink at the end of her late lecture. She's there with a few students when he arrives and gives him a bleak look as if annoyed at being disturbed. He asks politely if anyone wants a drink and goes to the bar to get one for himself. When he returns the students have gone and he bends to kiss Hazel. She doesn't waste time or spare his feelings.

"Are you trying to shame me? I trusted you and now I discover you're nothing but a street bruiser. How could you?"

Stunned, Jack sits down. "Hold on Hazel. I take it this is about my encounter with Caroline's lover. What do you think happened? It's between him and me. That bastard came after me and I defended myself. I was excessively restrained compared to what I might have done."

"Brawling in public? This is a University -- we pride ourselves on training minds to deal with the world's problems. How could fighting help your situation? I hate what you did. There's always another way."

"I should have let him hit me?"

"You should have walked away."

"I did as soon as I could."

"Fighting in front of everyone on the University piazza. You're notorious. I feel humiliated just by knowing you. I hate that kind of thing."

"I did nothing to you."

"It's against everything I stand for. What chance is there for women if men assert themselves with their fists? Equality requires living by civilised rules and respect for one another."

"I didn't hit a woman. It was you who said nobody owns anyone. I take responsibility for what I did but it had nothing to do with you. And if it happened again I'd do the same. I'm not a pacifist; I believe you have to fight for what you believe. It's just that most times you don't have to fight with your fists. I'd say you think the same and that men's physical strength can be used to defend equality as much as it's a threat."

"You don't know me at all. Violence is wrong. I believe in living by principles. I don't want to know someone who uses his fists to relieve his feelings." She gets up. "Don't bother making dinner for me."

She stalks out of the bar leaving Jack alone with his drink and feeling as if he's been flattened by an avalanche. It's no help to his emotional state when a couple of drunken rugby types lean over and give him a cheer.

"Good on you mate. We saw you dump that tosser in the fountain. Ace."

It feels as if everyone is staring, everyone has witnessed the fight. He wonders what to do about Hazel, but is so upset to think he's lost her, so humiliated by her assessment of him, that he leaves his beer, goes back to his flat, changes and runs to the river and through the woods beyond in the gathering darkness. His past has not lost its power to drag him down and leave him prostrate.

Hazel keeps out of his way the next day and the sniggers that greet him at the start of his seminar alert him to a problem. Eventually one of the male students admits he's on YouTube. Someone filmed the fight and posted the footage on line. He shrugs and does his best to make a joke of it.

"And you thought I'm a cuddly theoretician. Now you know I'm a muscular economist who throws those who disagree with me into the fountain. Exactly why I was a success as a banker."

"We knew you were a banker so it's no surprise to find you soaking the man in street," says one wag.

There's half-hearted laughter and he pushes the incident out of his mind; the fight's only one more consequence of Caroline's reign of terror and he's not going to let it drag him down.

The next day he gets a call midmorning from his professor telling him to go to a reception for some visiting academics in the Senate House.

"You're the only one of my staff I can rely on to own a decent suit and tie. Dress respectably and represent economic history to the great and good. It's a chance to show your face -- and get a free lunch."

He arrives a little late and the first person he sees across the crowded conference room is Hazel. She's wearing an exotic silk scarf with panache -- her idea of dressing smart. He recognises nobody else and the visitors are a senior delegation from an Indian university. There's wine, soft drinks and a finger buffet. He fills his plate and determined to be a credit to himself deploys his business skills and starts to network. He joins a desiccated scientist talking to one of the visitors and adds a little humour and wisdom; then he talks to a lonely-looking man with half-rim glasses who turns out to be the Dean of Engineering. They chat about mountaineering, an interest they discover they share. Jack refills his wine and moves on to a couple of the visitors who are talking to a woman in a tweed suit. One of them is an economist and they talk seriously about banking, the European debt crisis and financial regulation in the emergent economies. It's a vigorous discussion and they exchange strong views.

The visitors move on and Jack is left talking to the tweedy woman. Belatedly he realises she's the University's Vice-Chancellor. She asks him what he's doing and about his research and what he thinks about the history curriculum. He enjoys the conversation and notices Hazel watching him. She's still talking to her friends -- she's not circulated at all. "So I'm a street bruiser, an embarrassment to women, am I?" he wants to shout. The Vice-Chancellor smiles graciously and moves on. He feels good about his professional life and helps himself to more food.

It's Friday and he leads a seminar at lunchtime before driving home in time to collect the children from school. He's looking forward to this moment but feels unfit for the ordeal of sharing the weekend with Caroline. He hopes she'll be out most of the time with her lover.

He and Ben are sitting in the car waiting for Amy to come out of school when Ben tells him, "Mum was crying and shouting a lot this morning. I think she's very cross with me because I tore my shirt putting it on and it was the only clean one. I had to wear yesterday's dirty one."

"I'm sure it's just a mix-up," he assures his son. "We'll sort it out when we get home. If necessary we'll buy some more shirts."

"And I got a detention this week because I couldn't find my tie and went to school without one. I told mum and she said it was my own fault."

"Not if you did your best to find it. We'll get another so when you find the old one you'll have a spare."

"Thanks Dad."

His daughter raises his spirits and they do a detour to the shopping centre to get clothes for Ben, new pens for Amy and to delay the moment when he meets his wife. All the same, she's waiting for them and he sees at once she's dressed up and made an effort with her appearance. He lets the children go in front of him and pre-empts her greeting by saying, "You look very nice. Dressed up for your lover?" She blushes and reaches for him. His flinch is involuntary. "Stay away from me. I don't know who you've been with."

He's never said anything so gratuitously offensive to Caroline before and she's shocked, stepping back and looking at him strangely.

"Please Jack, I'm sure I deserve it but please don't. I can't take much more."

He makes a guess. "What's the matter, lover done a bunk?"

She nods and bursts into tears. "Damien's got a job in London. He was so angry when his employers wouldn't believe him about that email. He walked out and got a job with their biggest rivals. I don't think our relationship can survive the distance. It was frayed in any case."

Jack digests this information in silence, working out what it means for him and understanding that Damien's appearance at university was an act of desperation, linked to this crisis in his professional life. It was good to think their little spat might have helped to drag the bastard down.

"Don't be hard on me Jack. I've cooked a lovely meal. Come and eat. Let's try not to hurt one another."

He sees the sense of that, but adds all the same, "I'm not the person you should ask for sympathy. I'm glad your lover's gone but I'm sure you'll find another poor sap to warm your bed."

She looks away. "Please Jack, it doesn't do any good. Come and eat."

This time there's wine. Jack bites his tongue when he's about to ask what's the special occasion they're celebrating, instead accepting a glass with good grace. He decides to bring in some groceries the next day to help with the housekeeping.