Life Means

What Life Means



The late afternoon sunlight flooded through the half-closed blinds and
rested on Sir John Walton's body. He lay across the bed, white sheets
pulled just above his waist.


He heard the taps turn, and then the gurgle of water as Linda
began to fill the bath. A wave of disappointment washed over him. She
would be gone soon.


He propped himself up on his elbow. "What are you running a
bath for? Come back to bed."


The water continued to flow noisily from the taps, and
drummed against the porcelain bath. Linda appeared in the doorway, his
dressing gown slung around her shoulders.


"I have to be back in an hour."


Walton fell back on the bed, his head hitting the pillow.
"Nonsense," he said. "You don't have to be anywhere."


Linda walked towards him and sat on the edge of the bed.
"What are we doing here, John?"


He reached out, and his hand found her thigh. "Not asking
questions. That's what we're not doing. What we are doing is shutting
out the outside world, trying to remember what life
means."


"So what does life mean?"


Walton's hand moved higher. "That's another question. I said
we weren't asking questions."


"Am I allowed to make statements?"


"I suppose."


"I think life means not over complicating things by going
back to old mistakes."


Walton pulled himself across the bed and began kissing
Linda's thigh. "I think life is a series of mistakes. Every action we
take can be perceived by somebody, somewhere, as a mistake. Sometimes
we make big mistakes, sometimes we make little mistakes. Mistakes are
inevitable."


He looked up at her. "Did I make a mistake by getting up this
morning? Perhaps. Did I make a mistake by joining the Foreign Office?
Depends on who you ask. Did we make a mistake by coming up here this
afternoon? Probably."


Linda ran her hand across his shoulder and down his arm. "Was
it a big mistake or a little mistake?"


"I see it as a little mistake. Little mistakes I can live
with. My wife, however, may have something else to say about
that."


Linda withdrew her hand. "I'd rather you didn't mention your
wife when you've just made love to me."


"You started it." Walton went back to kissing her
thigh.


Linda rested her hand on his shoulder again. "As I remember
you started it, actually. You seduced me. How big a mistake was
that?"


"What do you think?"


"A big one."


Walton looked up at her. "A big one for you or a big one for
me?"


"Both."


Walton looked annoyed and rolled away. "So what do you want
to do about it?"


Linda stood and pulled the gown around her. "Try and forget
about it, I guess." She walked towards the bathroom and stopped at the
door.


"Look, John, it's alright for you. You're just doing this for
a bit of fun. You don't really care about me. You've got a family, a
successful career. I don't have those things. And the more afternoons I
fritter away on big - or small - mistakes with you detracts from the
time I should be spending on my life. I can't switch on and off as
easily as you, John. I'm too young."


Walton sprawled on the bed, and his arms and legs spread as
he yawned. "You invited yourself up here today, for Christ's
sake."


"A mistake."


Walton laughed as he stood up and began to get dressed.
"Throw my words back in my face will you? OK, you're right. We won't do
it again. From now on, purely professional. Nothing
more."


"I'm going to start looking for another job." Linda was
standing in the doorway, leaning against the door
frame.


Walton stopped. "May I ask why? You're extremely good at what
you do."


"Come on John, you know we can't work together after what's
happened."


"That's no reason to quit. You've just said you want to spend
time building your career."


"Don't go getting flustered. There's plenty of things for me
to do out there. I was thinking of applying to MI6. Spend some time
abroad, see the world." She walked into the bathroom.


"Yes, you'd be good at that I suppose," Walton said, almost
to himself. He pulled on his shirt and walked across the bedroom to the
bathroom door.


"But you'd do that, change career, live in the shadows, just
to get away from me? There's no need to do that, I'll be retired in two
years, if I'm not sacked before that."


Linda ran her hand through the water and looked up. "Don't be
silly John, you'll not get sacked. And I've been thinking about trying
something new for a while now. Look, you'd better go, it's almost four
O'clock."


Walton moved to check his watch, but realised it wasn't
there. "Really? Shit, I'd better hurry. So is this really the last
time?"


She looked away, then turned back. "Yes, I think
so."


Walton tucked in his shirt and fastened his belt. "Well, if
that's the case, give me something to remember you by."


He took her hand in his and pulled her towards him. With his
other hand he reached inside the gown and pulled it open. The gown fell
to the floor and he pulled her close to him, running his hands down her
back and kissing her neck. He stood back and admired her one last
time.


"It's a great shame, Linda," he said. "But if you're
sure,"


Linda stood still, allowing him to see all of her. "I
am."


Walton took another step backwards. "I'll see you in the
office, then. Take as long as you like here, I won't be back until
tomorrow. Shirley and the children have roped me into taking them to
the theatre tonight." He gave her a sheepish smile and
left.


Linda heard the front door close, and stepped into the bath.
She lay down, feeling the hot water envelop her. The apartment was
silent, the only sound was the water lapping around her body and the
faint crumbling of thousands of tiny bubbles. She rested her head on
the edge of the bath and closed her eyes.