The Last Time

Marnie looks at the two locksmiths - both leaning on the counter, smiling good-naturedly at us. She’s standing straighter than they’ve probably ever stood in their lives

“I want something really substantial”

She pronounces it substarn-tial. The two men laugh – but I don’t think they’re laughing at her. The older one – they must be brothers – they’ve got to be – assures her that they have something very substantial, and then he winks at me. I stare straight ahead and say nothing. Mentally I try to work out what the chances are of her punching him – and how I’ll be able to extricate us from any consequences if she does. I decide they’re about equal with the chances of her joining in the laughter – it could go either way.

After about thirty seconds of this, the one with the baseball cap on backwards breaks the standoff . He hands Marnie his business card and she holds it close to her face, peering short-sightedly at the writing;

“Carlos and Felix….. wonderful names”

I breathe out. She isn’t going to punch them.

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

The weather’s truly shit here – grey, bleak, cold - not like spring at all. I’m praying it stays this way, and that the island weather continues to be a million times better. March in Suffolk can be so beautiful – especially after a hard winter; things explode back into life, but I wouldn’t want that to happen just now, not for a couple of days at least – just in case she changes her mind. She has to go.

The first thing I notice, once we’re inside the cottage, is the intensity of the cold – it’s like going inside a fridge, only there’s no bright light to take the edge off it. Marnie, head bowed for once, goes slowly upstairs. I wonder briefly if she’s going to be okay. She seems shakier today – more wobbly. I know she didn’t sleep last night. I don’t know why she bothers with the pills – they never work.

We’re here for the last time – to do the last few things before she shuts it up until the summer. Suddenly, for no reason, the smoke alarm starts going off – and I stretch up and press everything I can see, but nothing happens – it shrieks on and on uncontrollably – it’s so loud it actually makes my ears hurt. After a minute, Marnie comes back down – she looks as if she’s about to cry. I jab at the alarm again – still nothing, then I give up and suggest that the man from Sotheby’s might know what to do to make it stop – he can’t be long now; she can’t think of a better plan, so she retreats back upstairs and I go outside. I can’t bear to listen to the wailing for a minute longer.

The other side of the door it’s like a different world – the sun’s come out while we’ve been inside and suddenly nothing looks quite so bad. I light a cigarette, pull my sleeves down over my hands – it’s still quite cold - and look across the land – it dips and rolls, unusual for this part of Suffolk. The green green parkland is studded with sheep, and the trees in the distance have a bright fuzz now. Everything is waking up and it’s so beautiful. I walk round the house, looking up at the thatch and the chimneys, checking that there really is no reason for the alarm to be going off.

There’s a bit of meadow that belongs to the cottage – strong healthy looking clumps of spring flowers not yet in bloom – daffodils, tulips too probably – jut out of the rough grass and it’s bordered by a hedge made of trellis and old twisty clematis – Bill Mckenzie – the yellow one with the lovely whiskery seed heads. I remember it! It’s been here since I was twenty, lying on my stomach in that meadow in high summer, chewing on a grass stalk, just me and Joe. Suddenly it’s icy cold again - I’ve reached the shady side of the house, and I pull the sleeves of my jumper down even further, folding my hands into the soft wool. It’s only warm if you keep in the sunshine.

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

“They were very excited in our London office – it’s the cloisonne you see – most unusual – unprecedented you might say – a special piece – significant …”

The man from Sotheby’s has to raise his voice because Carlos (or Felix) is busy drilling where the new lock will go – but I think he’s genuinely enthused. I’ve never heard anyone speak like this before- he sounds exactly like one of the descriptions in the catalogues.

He takes out the paperwork from his shoulder bag, and while he fills in the last few details, Marnie strokes the shiny head;

“Goodbye old girl – I was saving you for a time like this.”

He picks it up carefully – it’s very heavy, and I lead the way, opening doors for him – we have to sidestep Carlos and his little pile of sawdust. Marnie stays where she is. I think she looks a bit shell shocked – dazed. She’s okay though – this had to happen – it’s necessary. She knows it.

The next hour or so that we’re there I try to be extra gentle – I can see this part is the hardest – locking up, saying goodbye, putting the house to sleep. I treat her even more like a child, but not in a bad way I hope – taking out the card to pay for the locks – putting it back in her card case, then putting the case back in the bag.

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

We’re nearly ready to go. Marnie has taken much longer because she keeps forgetting stuff. She hasn’t cried – or become distraught – just got quieter and quieter

At the last minute – the very last minute – we are literally walking towards the door – she turns back – looking back at the dining room. A single shaft of sunlight has penetrated the dirty window, highlighting the dust particles in the air – it’s like they’re dancing.

“So sad. Does it make you too sad? That it’s so different from before – when you used to come?

She makes a sweeping gesture with her hand.

I shake my head and tell her that I’ll never forget how it was before. Then I leave her to lock up and say goodbye – I think she’d rather do it on her own.

I go and wait for her in the car and think about the email he sent, and the reply I have to write when I get home. I think I’ve decided what to say now.