A Drive In The Country

“So – what’s happening in Tucson then?”

We’re heading to the cottage in my car - Zach doesn't know where we're going yet - and even though the engine is really quiet – one of the few good things about it, I have to strain to hear what he’s saying. He has a very soft voice – really gentle. It doesn’t matter what he’s talking about – I’ve never heard it raised, not once, not even when he’s angry.

It’s hard to think it was only three months ago that we both thought it was all going to be okay – we thought we’d managed to persuade him to come home – leave Tucson – come back here. Zach had found him something to do, Marnie had said he could have the villa – the three of us were going to spend the summer there. It’s very different now;

“He doesn’t write anymore. I haven’t heard for ages. I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t think he is coming back”

I mind telling most people. Not Zach though.

“…Is he back on the gear? That’s what it sounds like to me – I should know”

I look across at him – briefly – and say I don’t know whether he is or not. It isn’t a good idea to take your eyes off the road too often. Now the weather’s picked up, the world and its dog have decided to get out and visit the country, and none of them can drive on our twisty roads.

“We must be able to do something… What can we do….let’s see..”

Zach rattles out twenty ideas, some of them wildly unlikely, some of them almost feasible, but I don’t let him finish – I’ve gone through just about everything a million times and the thing is, the thing it all boils down to, is that we can’t do anything – not unless he wants us to, and I don’t think he does anymore, not really.

Zach goes quiet for a minute and I can feel him looking at me.

“I’m sorry. I really wanted it to work out for the two of you - even though he’s a wanker…. are you still writing to him? Keep on – so he knows we still care. I’ll do it too – ok? You never know - one day it might happen."

I thank him. There’s no need to say he isn’t a wanker. I know Zach doesn’t mean it.

“Jesus!”

I have to slam on my brakes. Someone – who really is a wanker - has decided that perhaps the turning on the right is the one they want after all, but it doesn’t occur to them to put on their indicator until after they’ve slowed almost to a standstill. What is it with people when they come to the country – they must think it’s all a theme park or something – and we’re all just extras from some Agatha Christie remake. It really really pisses me off.

Zach doesn’t seem to have noticed the emergency stop – he’s looking at me, laughing softly; “So – anyway- this other geezer – who is he exactly?”

I tell him. He whistles, laughs some more, then he looks serious and says some of his best love affairs have been with married people, but I need to watch out for myself because it’s the way to really get your heart broken. I say I’m not planning to get my heart broken, and it isn’t going to get serious –how can it?

Then luckily we turn in through the gates, so Zach forgets all about it, and starts laughing at the lambs – it doesn’t seem to matter how old you are – they’re just so funny. I have to slow down a bit, and I can see from the expression on his face that it’s working already – the spell, just like when I brought my son – only more - this place is really quite magical.

By the time we get to the cottage he’s already said “this is fucking amazing” about forty times. Up the steep driveway – Zach has to get out to open the gate, which is barely a gate anymore - what's left of it is held together with blue nylon string, and by the time I’ve parked and got out of the car, Zachy’s already around the back, staring off into the surrounding fields – acres and acres of rolling countryside. No-one else is here except us and it’s completely silent except for birdsong and the occasional sound of bleating. He turns to me, smiling, “Fantastic place to do a trip – this is just made for it – E too. There’s some really good stuff going round at the moment”

When I say I’ve never tried ecstasy, he does a theatrical double take, claps his hand to his forehead in mock disbelief – “Where the fuck have you been for twenty years?”

“Here. Having babies. I wouldn’t say no now though”

“Well of course you wouldn’t – no sane person would. I’ll bring some next time I come up.”

Once I‘ve unlocked the door, we go straight through to the dining room, and stand there for a moment, getting used to the change in light. I start to tell him about my idea, and Marnie – I’m as truthful as can be – there’s no point in being otherwise - he has to know..

“She can be a bit – eccentric…slightly mad – you know”

“Oh I wouldn’t mind any of that – god. This place.. “ He looks around, “Fucking unbelievable.”

I take him through into the sitting room and there’s one small beam of sunlight coming through the window, cutting through the dust, highlighting the little pieces of rubble from where the ceiling collapsed.

“It needs cleaning quite badly”

“That’s not important,” he scans the shelves that line three of the walls, then he pulls out a book – “Fuck me - this is a first edition Andy Warhol – it’s worth thousands..” he gently brushes off the brick dust and leafs through it , “…it’s ok, surprisingly ….but this all needs careful looking after – curating ..Does she know what she’s got? This is a treasure trove.”

“She needs someone to do it all for her” I sit on the edge of one of the sofas, and begin to explain what she’s looking for, how she can’t live there alone anymore, but how she wants to come occasionally. He is listening, but he keeps being waylaid – the grand piano, the harpsichord, …each new discovery makes his eyes shine more brightly

“I could work here – this is exactly what I need – it’s perfect”

“And you wouldn’t mind if she was here every now and again? She is batty. And she drinks rather a lot” I really want him to understand.

“What? Oh no of course not – she must be amazing to have done what she’s done here – amazing - I’d quite like it if she were here actually – I think it’s quite sweet that she still drinks”

By the time we leave he’s already moved in, in his head, and on the drive back home we work out how to put it to Marnie – how Zachy could stay for the summer, clean up, make it habitable again – he is surprisingly domesticated – then if he still likes the idea he’ll take it on and pay rent properly to her. Zach points out, to be fair, that he hasn’t actually got any money, and I say I don’t think he needs to worry about that – I have an idea that once they get to know each other they’ll probably be able to work something out between themselves. The main thing is that he loves it, and he’ll look after it properly. And he’s a very honourable person. He would never take advantage of her.

We agree that I’ll write her a long email when I get home, tell her exactly what he’s offering, see what she says.

As we drive back into town, I have a good feeling about it all. I think it might work. Things are definitely looking up – or at least they will be, if Marnie goes for it.