A Start

“But I don’t understand how … are you sure?” Marnie sounds tired over the phone, quieter than normal.

“Yes. That’s what he said.”

This is so uncomfortable. It’s like kicking someone when they’re down, and you just don’t do that, do you. I feel like a bully, but I have to grit my teeth – make myself carry on. I’m not going to pretend it didn’t happen. She has to realise what she’s done.

“I was just being a bit loud perhaps and he isn’t used to it?”

“You told him you were going to throw out the things he’d left there – bedding and so on. You said he’d ruined the cottage”

“I would never do such a thing! Oh god. Was I like that to you ever?”

“No – never. Not once. I did tell him that. But Marnie, it’s what you said you’d do – he has no way of knowing you wouldn’t”

It’s not turning out at all as I imagined it would. I thought she’d be bristling – full of reasons why she was in the right. The way people often are if they drive into the back of your car and they know it’s their fault. It’s not like that at all - I can see she’s genuinely mystified. Doesn’t remember a thing.

“Sometimes I wonder if I’m going mad..”

There’s a catch in her voice now, and it sounds as if she might cry. It’s horrible to hear. So I say it. I have to force myself. Someone’s got to be honest with her. I think this is her last chance

“Do you think perhaps you might have been drinking a bit too much?”

Before – she might have brindled at this. She’s forever saying she only has one glass – two at most. Now she’s quiet for a minute

“Maybe I was”

There’s another a long silence. I have no idea what to do next. I don’t want to lie – say I can make it better, because I don’t think I can this time.

“I’ll write. I must fix this. Will you tell him I’m not like this? I’ll write. I must. I can smooth it over”

She doesn’t sound confident, despite these words, and I honestly don’t think he’ll go for it. I think it was the last straw – I wouldn’t blame him in the slightest. I think I know what I’d do if it were me. But – anyway, I tell her I’ll write to him as well – and phone him. I’m not hopeful, but what else can I do?

We chat for a little longer. Kit is with her – just for the week. He is an artist – quite a famous one, or at least he used to be. His mother was a mad beautiful Swedish woman who was one of Marnie’s best friends in the old days. In my memory they are always half drunk, floating around, looking wonderful, taking photographs of everyone and calling each other darling in very loud voices. He is supposed to be helping Marnie with putting the cottage back together, but he’s a raging alcoholic and Marnie says he’s barely standing by lunchtime. At least he is there though. She wouldn’t be able to survive on her own. Neither of us talk about what will happen if Zach doesn’t come.

*******************************

Zachary is hungover – really badly. He looks even greyer than he normally does. He is here though. That’s what counts. He’s going to give her another chance. This is it though – the last chance.

I get in the back of the car, and there’s a walking stick there - not a dress-up one – the kind you get from a hospital. I ask about it, and Zach turns round in his seat – he really is grey – skin, hair, lips – everything except his eyes, which are red

“When I do a lot of coke my limbs don’t work anymore. Good party though. Very good” he shudders slightly

As we turn into the park, the sky is navy blue, which actually looks quite beautiful against the bright green while the sun’s still shining – then suddenly it gets dark and the rain pours down. Scheherazade puts her lights on and slows down – it’s raining so heavily there isn’t time for the water to drain away and it makes the little path quite treacherous.

Kit comes to the open door, barefoot, in faded jeans and a shirt that must have been white once, laughing uproariously. He is tanned – dark brown from working in Marnie’s garden, and it makes his blue eyes sparkle like diamonds. It’s been fifteen years since I saw him, and that black black hair is all gone now, replaced with silver – not grey - silver, and he has a rakish beard. He looks astonishingly well for someone who’s been an alcoholic almost all his life.

“Come in, come in!” He flings his arms around me and hugs me – a real bear hug. He smells of woodsmoke and Golden Virginia, which is surprisingly pleasant. I introduce Zach and Scheherazade and they shake hands.

Inside – in the dining room – it’s like a different place. It’s slightly cleaner, but it’s not that – somehow the life has come back. The wood burning stove has been lit – and the doors left open wide so you can see the bright cheerful flames and feel the heat. It’s June now, but it doesn’t feel like it. I had completely forgotten how wonderful the smell of woodsmoke is.

Marnie walks haltingly across the room, looking quite formal. She hugs me, shakes hands with the others and offers wine. Zach flinches slightly, and shakes his head, and this seems to break the ice, because Marnie becomes less stately – more like herself, and says sympathetically “A bit hungover? Cup of tea then?”

Marnie and Zach sit in armchairs either side of the fire, and the rest of us sit around the table. Somehow the chaos doesn’t matter today – it’s not quite so squalid. Kit might be a shambling alcoholic but he’s still quite handy and they’ve made huge inroads into the chaos. Mainly it’s the atmosphere though – the people. It’s almost almost like it used to be – the crackling fire, bright funny people, the chink of glasses. Kit takes over – he has such a big personality, and he questions Zachary. It’s been years since I heard this kind of thing. I think he is being protective of Marnie, wanting to find out what kind of a person Zach is. It’s old fashioned name dropping, I remember it from school, when there was a new girl, and the others would question her, trying to find a connection. I sit back and let it wash over me, appreciating the skill with which they fling names across at each other – it’s quite funny - Tracy Emin, Richard Branson, the Earl this, Lady that. It’s all done with good humour - you can tell they like each other.

Kit gets drunker. He bursts into laughter suddenly, and quite often, for no reason that any of us can work out. Every ten minutes or so he looks at me and says I haven’t changed at all since 1981. I tell him he needs to see an optician urgently and then he laughs again, says, no really, not one bit, and shambles across to give me another hug. Then he decides to read Zach and Scheherazade’s palms and does so dramatically, with long pauses, and searching looks, and we all try not to laugh, and when he’s finished he hugs them too – another great big bear hug and says they will do. It's obvious that Zach really likes him – his eyes are shining, and Marnie is smiling.

It’s quite dark outside by now - and the flames from the fire illuminate the room. This place feels warm, happy, very positive, full of love. No one mentions screaming fits over the telephone, or threats to throw stuff out. Suddenly it seems to be understood that Zach will come down in a week or so and move in and Kit will stay around until then, and a bit afterwards, partly to show him how things work, but also partly because I think he just really likes Zach. Another round of hugs, kisses, and we’re off, laughing – not at Marnie and Kit, but with them. Who knows if it’s going to work, but it’s a start.