The Courier & Advertiser (Perth and Perthshire Edition)
Ice Dancing Episode 86
Why was Joe saying this? Had he decided to sell up as well? Would I be completely homeless? My first thought was for Fiona. She needed somewhere to come during vacations and would for a few years yet. She still wasn’t very comfortable with her father and Mary.
Maybe I could get a job, rent somewhere and then buy a flat as soon as the money was sorted out. My mind galloped on in this way, so that I hardly heard what he was saying.
I said, “But I do love you. I love you very much. And actually, Joe, I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve been living here in the cottage. Just while I get myself sorted out. Just while I make some plans. But I can leave. I’ll understand. I can leave if you need to sell the place.”
“What plans? What will you do now?” he asked.
“I don’t know. My mind keeps going round and round in circles, but I don’t know. I realise just how feeble I’ve been all my life. I haven’t the faintest idea what to do next. Or what I really want to do.”
Annie was right, even though she was prone to exaggeration and fiercely loyal to me.
For my whole life so far, I had accommodated myself to everyone else, and now I had lost all sense of ambition or even hope. It was years since I had done anything just for me. Even the line dancing had been Annie’s idea, not mine.
Maybe that was why I had been so reluctant to phone Joe. Maybe I had been thinking about frying pans and fires.
“You just need a little time, honey,” said Joe, thoughtfully. “Time to recover your nerve. It’s like getting back on the ice again after an injury. You haven’t lost the knack, you’re just kind of rusty. And afraid of falling.”
“I suppose so.”
“Did you mind leaving the farm?” “No. No, I don’t think so. That hurt Sandy more than me. Clearing it all out is terrible. It’s still going on. You can’t do it overnight. There are things I miss. I actually miss the hens a bit. But no. Not much else.”
“You could do anything you want, you know. You could go back to college. You could make a whole new start.”
“I know. But I’m so scared.” “Yeah. Well it is frightening. Starting over. But if I can do it, you can.”
I felt myself spiralling downwards into misery. It wasn’t enough any more just to hear Joe’s voice. It wasn’t that I wanted or expected him to solve all my problems at a stroke. I knew that I had to stand on my own two feet for once.
If I had learned anything from the years of my marriage, it was that one person can’t ever provide you with the ultimate happy ending.
But for all these months, Joe had been relying on me. Now, I needed his support, his sympathy, his love. How would he respond?
I was aware of the miles between us. Of the years between us. Of all the differences of background and culture between us.
We had so little in common. I saw him in my mind’s eye, fire dancing on ice, skating like an angel, using the edges of the blades, moving swiftly over the alien medium like a big bright warrior.
I saw him weeping in an Edinburgh hotel room. I saw this warm, clever, talented man buried beneath the damage of years.
I saw the desire for trust beneath the betrayal, the hope beneath his despair.
I saw him lying on the white ice, with the red blood crystallising beneath him. Red roses and white. Blood and bandages.
Love came like a puck to the head and there wasn’t a thing we could do to stop it or shield ourselves in time. It was part of the mysterious dance, part of the game.
Neither of us was indispensable to the other, and I think we both knew that we could survive alone, if need be, but our mutual affection, our friendship, linked us as surely as the telephone lines carrying all the words between us.
“Listen,” he said. “Why don’t you just stay put for the moment? Where you are. In the cottage.”
“Would you mind?”
“Would I mind? Helen, just do whatever you like with the place. You love it as much as I do.”
“That’s true.”
“Fiona too. She’s welcome any time. You know that. There’s the spare room. Fix that up for her.”
“I suppose I could do that. Yes.” “But you know what? You wait there.” He said it as though he were just down the road, as though he could jump in a car and be at the cottage in a few minutes. “Wait for what?”
“For me, you doofus.”
“Are you coming back then?” “Sure I’m coming back. Wild horses wouldn’t stop me now. What did you think?”
“You don”t have to do this, you know. You don’t have to come back for me. Not if you don’t want to.”
“I’m coming back for all kinds of reasons, Helen, and not only for you. I wouldn’t want to lay that on you. But I decided for myself.”
“What about your daughter?”
“I’ve seen quite a lot of her. We’ve been building bridges. I think Carrie will let her come over with Frankie. You know. For a visit. Maybe a couple of times. It’s more than I hoped for.”
“When are you coming?”
“I’ve got a flight booked for later this month. I spoke to the coach yesterday. It’s a bit late, but I’m coming back to the Kestrels for another season at least. You’re just part of the plan. A very big part of the plan now. But I want you to make some plans as well. For yourself.
“Maybe we can fix something between us. Make things right for both of us.”
I had to sit down. The legs just went from under me.
“Are you all right, Helen?” he asked, across the miles. He sounded so close and warm.
“I think so.”
For all these months, Joe had been relying on me. Now, I needed his sympathy, his love. How would he respond?