Chapter 17

On the other shore of the North Sea, Claire Klinsman lived from day to day much as John had in the early days of his bereavement. She had returned to work at the same school, and ran the ‘English for Adults’ courses in the evenings, and that filled her days. With all the children gone as well, she could not face cooking meals for one, and consequently lost weight.

She had written to John that the house seemed to echo with emptiness, but she knew that in reality the loneliness was within her, and as the weeks went by she had plenty of time in the empty house to ponder her situation. The realisation grew that the pain was not only the loss of Peter, but guilt over his early death.

When she looked in the mirror she saw a woman who had driven her husband to a stroke by deserting him to go to another man. Sitting alone in the silent living room she blamed herself for going off to live with John. Had she used Peter’s jealousy to justify spending more time with her first real boyfriend?

John was too hospitable, she thought, too loving and too addictive. She had gone back to Peter, yes, but too late: she selfishly had stayed too long with John. Those thoughts weighed heavily and depressed her.

The second weekend in October Claire was making her bed on Saturday morning, when she heard Mary’s shout.

“Mum! Where are you?”

“Up here, hold on, I’m coming down.”

Mary had begun making coffee when Claire arrived in the kitchen, and before long they were sitting in the living room with coffee and biscuits. Mary did not waste time with pleasantries, but then she rarely did.

“Mum, you’re not looking well. You’ve lost weight, you look pale and let’s face it, miserable.”

“Mary darling, it’s called bereavement. I’m allowed to be miserable, it’s in the rules.”

“But you’re wasting away. You’re not eating properly are you?”

“There’s no fun in cooking for one, Mary. I’m eating enough.”

“No you’re not. We’ve been talking, and we’re worried about you.”

“You mean you and Lizzie are.”

“And the boys. We all think you need a change. Why don’t you go and visit Aunt Ellen or Uncle George? School’s are off for a week from next weekend, so you’ll have time. Or why not go and see John Pollard? I’m sure he’d love to have you.”

“Not John.” Claire’s response was clipped.

“Why ever not?” Mary asked, surprised at her mother’s reaction.

“I’ve imposed on John enough already. I can’t keep landing my troubles on him all the time. It’s too much.”

“Mum, John would–”

“No Mary,” she said sharply. “I might go see Ellen, Simon and the children. John has his own life without having to put up with misery-me yet again.”

Mary knew her mother too well to argue further, thinking that even a trip to England to see Ellen would help her. So the matter was left there, but Mary’s mind ran on.

“Hi, Claire!” cried Ellen as she hugged her sister. “It’s been ages!”

“Only a few months,” Claire corrected her. “I’ve been busy tidying up Peter’s affairs. Not very pleasant.”

“I suppose you’re here to check on the house at Grange? It’s been a long time since you visited it.”

“Yes, that’s true.” There was a long pause, and Ellen could see she was looking for words.

“That’s not all, is it?” she asked.

“Mary and Elizabeth have been banging on about going to see John.”

“Well, why not? He’d be really glad to see you.”

“Ellen, I have been preoccupied with Peter and then the funeral,” she reproved her sister. “I’ve also taken on more teaching work to keep me sane, so I’ve been busy, but I’ve had time to think as well, and I know I’m guilty about the way I treated Peter. John was part of that, you know – when I went to stay with him and put Peter though hell.”

“Oh, Claire, you were so downtrodden by Peter – and there was that letter Peter sent John. You were desperate.”

“That’s what I told myself at the time, but I caused Peter so much suffering, and I’m sure I stayed away too long because John was so comforting. That was selfish.”

“Darling, John was a real respite, no wonder you wanted to stay with him.”

“Ellen!’ Claire spoke sharply and admitted more in her exasperation than she perhaps wanted. “I wanted him physically in the worst way after I stayed the first time.”

“So?”

“I was unfaithful, Ellen, in my mind,” Claire sat back in her chair. “In any case, John is so bound up in my guilt at the way I treated Peter, and how wrong I was to use John as I did, I think...”

Ellen suddenly had fire in her eyes. “God! You and John! You want him but you feel guilty, he probably wants you but he’s in the rôle of the understanding relationship guru, the perfect gentleman who won’t intrude! You two are made for each other, you’ve both been widowed. What’s wrong with you Claire?”

“I don’t know!” she moaned. “He was ... He didn’t make any move on me at the time. He just sat there and helped me out – like he was a bloody priest! He’s had enough of me and my problems. I think he just put up with me towards the end. I’m sure he was relieved when I left.”

“Apart from that first time, you only turned up on his doorstep because you were in trouble, but each time he was delighted to see you; isn’t that the truth?”

Claire thought for a moment. “That’s what I mean, he wouldn’t say he’d had enough of me, even he had.” It was said with resignation.

“Why didn’t you tell him Peter had died?” Ellen asked, changing tack. “Or that he’d had a second stroke? That’s what I can’t understand.”

Claire looked desolate. “When I went back to Peter I knew I needed to put distance between John and me. It was hard going back to Peter knowing how much I’d fallen for John after he’d been so good to me, so I cut John off.

“Peter was oblivious to how I was feeling about John, and later he was so happy that John had done so much for us, that he would actually remind me to send Christmas cards – I wasn’t going to – so I did, from both of us with a minimal greeting, but that was all.

“Over time it got easier until Peter had the stroke, and the first person I turned to in my panic was John! He calmed me down, and stayed on the phone until I went off to hospital with Peter. Afterwards I felt I had to send John an email to tell him about Peter’s condition, but it revived all those strong feelings for him. So I cut myself off completely again – self-preservation really.”

“Peter’s gone now,” said Ellen quietly.

“As I said,” Claire replied sadly. “My fault. Anyway, John and I couldn’t make it together any more. I only seem to want John when I’m in trouble and though he accepted me each time, I don’t think that’s enough. Anyway, after a life with Elizabeth I don’t think he’d want me. I certainly don’t measure up to her.”

“I think you’re so wrong,” said Ellen with a smile. “I think he will want you and you’re fooling yourself. But moving on – so you’re here to get the house at Grange ready?” Ellen asked, changing the subject with some excitement.

“Get it ready?” asked a puzzled Claire.

“For Christmas!” Ellen’s face then dropped. “Oh. They haven’t said anything to you yet?”

“Ellen!” Claire reproved her. “Explain! Who? What about?”

“Mary and Elizabeth?”

“I might have known!” Claire laughed. “What scheme are they hatching now?”

“They want to have a family Christmas at the Grange house, like when Gran hosted them. They’re worried about you, and you don’t look well: you’ve lost a lot of weight. Don’t bother to deny it, it’s true. They think you need a break this Christmas after wearing yourself out with Peter and then the funeral. They were telling me how they enjoyed that Christmas there a few years ago.”

“Yes, they’re right, it was good, but it’s a bit late to be planning Christmas there now: it’s November.”

“Simon and I talked about it, and we think we’d like to go as well, and our two would love it, having everyone there. George has booked a cruise over Christmas I think, so he and Susan won’t make it, but the girls say everyone else except Thomas is really keen. I thought Sharon and the children might like it as well. I think she’s feeling a little cut off from us now she’s divorced.