ELINDA CAME HOME

She sat alone in the Restaurant Maiva and gazed out of the window at the fading light.

In previous times of sadness, she had been able to raise her spirits by remembering happy days in her life - the childhood with what had seemed to her to be an almost perfect father. A man so full of love for humanity that it spilled over into every situation and enthused everyone he met. But this time memories did not work for her, and her mind was dominated with thoughts of ‘the man’ whom she knew would be sitting in this same restaurant in a few hours, perhaps even at the same table she was now occupying.

Even before she had met Antonio, this restaurant had been her favourite place to eat and meet friends. Now, all the charm had evaporated and it had changed from being a happy place to one of apprehension. She disliked it because she knew that he used it regularly and, even walking into it on her own filled her with nervous dread. She kept asking herself ‘Why? but within her was a compelling desire to come back. While she ate, she noticed that when she raised the fork to her mouth her hands shook although the clock on the wall showed her that more than thirty minutes had passed since she had walked through the door which should have given her enough time to relax. When she had paid the bill, put on her coat and was going through the door she said to herself, “never again.”

But, even as she said it she knew she would go back and keep going back, likening herself to the arachnophobe who wanted to see the biggest and most terrifying spider, she called her obsession ‘Antoniophobia’.

She knew that there would be a day when she would walk into this restaurant and the smiling waiter would take her coat and she would look at the other diners and feel the smile freeze on her lips as she saw him; he would look up from conversation with his latest female, wave casually to her in token acknowledgement and carry on talking.

She imagined that he would be saying in a lowered voice. "Don't look up. but Elinda Strange has just walked in. Quite embarrassing for me, of course. We were together for months, perhaps it was a year, I forget, you know how it is with these things, they burn like a candle but soon the flame has gone. It’s all over as far as I’m concerned.” Then he would lean forward and say in a conspiratorial voice, “we only stayed together because I’m a caring person and didn’t want to hurt her. Different for her, of course - she would like us to be together again. Affectionate creature and, in a strange way I miss her. Especially - as you would know - the bedroom side.” Then he would put on the smile which Elinda had grown to hate because of the empty mind behind it.

It had never happened but she had thought so often about the possibility that, in her mind, it had become a reality. She tried to understand why she came to this place and decided it would demonstrate how little she cared. Antonio had brought her here many times and she had noticed how discreet the waiters were, but she had also seen that, when she and Antonio were seated, they would be talking quietly amongst themselves with occasional backward glances convinced her that they were talking about her. She had thought she had completely overcome the paranoia she had had as a young woman but something about Antonio’s attitude to her, made it all flood back and she imagined the waiters were comparing her unfavourably with the last woman he had brought in.

Even during the early days of their relationship when she was intensely happy with this stunningly attractive man, when she was alone, she had the same feeling of dread which had soured so much of her adult life. She knew about his ex-wife and, although he said he never saw her now, Elinda’s friends who knew Marian Finari, told her that Antonio would visit her often and would tell them that, although they were divorced, he enjoyed her sensuality more than ever before.

Elinda had never seen the sexual prowess he so often boasted about and began to wonder if she lacked the spark which was necessary for the release of his pent up desires. To her, he was sexually dull, so often in an alcoholic stupor that he would fall asleep before any arousal occurred. In the beginning she was so overcome with his looks that it didn’t matter. She knew that most women say that in a marriage, looks are unimportant to them but felt herself to be no different from other women when it came to choosing a lover. Even while he slept in the bed beside her, she would wake up early in the morning and, in the dawning light, raise herself up on one elbow and take in his incredible looks. She knew that she would be unable to live with him for ever but the excitement of being close to him of catching glimpses of him, dominated her. Throughout the day she would look at him with pleasure when he was in repose, when he was walking, sitting in a restaurant or, most of all, when he was looking at her with eyes which filled her mind with thoughts of being alone with him throughout the night. She disliked his drinking but in a way it made him seem more vulnerable and therefore more in need of her.

The excitement was such that while he slept beside her, she would lie awake, fervid with vibrations from the proximity of his body. In the morning, when she had to go early to her office, she would shower, dry herself and walk into the bedroom and stand naked by the bed, looking at him with a tenderness which she had never known she had. There was sensuousness which she could not explain about being naked with this sleeping man. Sometimes he would move and the yearning for his touch before she put on her clothes was almost overpowering.

Some days, she would take his hand and put it on her body and throughout the day while she worked at her desk, she would touch the position where his hand had been and feel close to him. One winter morning when she was dressing, she took one of his unwashed vests out of the linen basket and put it on under her sweater. She told herself that it would keep her warm in her office which was on the shade side of a large building. Throughout the day, she would slide her hand beneath her clothes and take comfort from the closeness of his DNA.

There had been many men in her life but none had the powerful effect that Antonio had on her. His presence seemed to pervade every room he was in. Even when she had her back to him while she was cooking a meal, she was sure his eyes would be following her and he would be feeling the same love that she felt.

When they were alone, there had often been times when she would catch sight of his face and the thrill that would go through her body would dominate her. It was as though she was an adjunct to him, only able to act as a complete human being when she was caring for him and able to make him completely happy. Even though, apart from physical attraction, there was no real communication between them, if he had asked her to marry him, she would have agreed without pausing to think.

And then he began to have reasons for not being able to come home. Although she did not particularly like cooking, she always saw it as her role to prepare the meal each evening. Sometimes, when she came in laden with food, she would discover a note. ‘Sorry, Elinda, called away to a meeting up North, will stay the night, I’ll phone you.’ At other times, he would call her at the office. ‘Can’t talk, I’m just rushing to get the train.’ He might say. ‘Damn nuisance, these people, can’t make up their minds in advance. I’ll ring when I can.’

She noticed his absences were regular, on the same nights each week. She had always had a trusting nature but began to ask questions about where he had been. At an earlier part of her life, she had had to travel a lot and had become familiar with many towns and cities in the country.

“Did you like the statue at the entrance to the station?” She once asked knowing that there was no statue there.

“I did, but you know what I’m like, I just have no interest in any sort of art.”

She said nothing but slowly built up a pattern of his misinformation, which convinced her that he had never visited the places where he claimed to have had meetings. When she heard on the radio that a train he had told her he had been travelling on had been cancelled because of a faulty engine, she knew that her suspicions had been correct.

As his absences increased, he became more accusative of her.

“Where did you go last night?” he would ask when he phoned her at her office the following day after one of his urgent meetings. Almost whatever she replied, he would contradict. “Only you were seen in the shops with a man.” he said.

“The man was Charlie Jones from upstairs, we arrived at the same time and we talked for a while.” She had to explain every move to him and felt a sense of guilt as she did so.

It was not long after this that he began to fabricate liaisons which he had been told that she had had. She had no real interest in Charlie Jones but after Antonio’s complaints, she noticed that Charlie did seem to turn up quite often when she was leaving the office to go to the art gallery or the shops. Partly her apathy to this older man was engendered by his name, ‘Charlie’ had none of the physical magnetism that Antonio had, But he did seem well read, interesting and humorous and she enjoyed his conversation which she had to admit pleased her more than talking with Antonio. He had such a sense of fun that she laughed most of the time when they walked to wherever she was going. He also knew quite a lot about the ‘Art of the Nineteen Nineties’ she was researching for an exhibition which her company was organising.

Sometimes his knowledge astounded her. She was finding difficulty tracing the origins of one of the lesser known Pre-Raphaelites and, when she mentioned it to Charlie as they walked to the underground, he looked into the air for a moment and said. “Born 1876 in Camberley, parents moved to Putney when he was fifteen. He decided to become a painter when he went to the Wilson Steer one man exhibition at the Goupil Gallery in 1894.”

They were walking through the park near the flat and, as he spoke, Elinda stopped walking, sat down on a park bench as Charlie sat beside her and said “Amazing, Charlie, how d’you know that, I’d never even heard of him until I started to do this P.R. project and I’m sorry to say I’d never heard of Wilson Steer until recently either even though at University I read Art History.”

“I knew you were going to ask so I read it up before I came out today.” he joked.

She laughed with him and then said. “No, tell me, how had you known of him? Nobody else I’ve spoken to could even remember his name.”

“I read a lot.” He said “It’s my great pleasure.” He leaned forward and put his hands on his knees before speaking. “I’ve never said but, I was happily married until seven years ago. My wife was killed in a car accident. She was a remarkable woman and had what the newspapers described as a glittering career before her. Her death left me empty. I didn’t want to do anything, I couldn’t go into my office where I had a law practice to face up to my associates who were unable to express themselves and, honestly were embarrassed by the whole thing. So…” He crossed and uncrossed his legs awkwardly and turned to look at her. “…what with that and the money we had accumulated between us, I knew I had to change. The legal profession bored me, I had begun to feel that it was legalised corruption. So I left and, since then I have spent my time studying, and writing articles in my flat at the top of your building. When I am reading or writing essays the memory of her fades.”

“I am sorry to hear about your wife. I lost a dear friend in a skiing accident. Many years have gone by since but I still think of him every day.” Then, wanting to change the subject which was making her tearful, she asked him what he had studied.

“Just about everything interests me, economics, philosophy, religion, sociology and, of course, art. I shall be coming to see the exhibition because, in my opinion, no one has equaled the Pre-Raphaelites. And, apart from the Dutch Golden Age painters, I mean ‘ever’, either before or since. The sheer craftsmanship is breathtaking, the subjects overflow with emotion and the use of light I think is astonishing.”

While Charlie was talking about his wife, Elinda had been overcome with a sadness which would not leave her and she hardly heard the rest of what he said. Without realising, she had taken his hand in hers and squeezed it. “Charlie, I’m sorry, I never suspected, you always seem so full of fun. To be honest I though you were a…” she hesitated

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you and your friend Antonio will probably never have thought much about the odd man who lives alone in the roof apartment above you. In many ways I’m happy with that. Since Maria died, I’ve rather cut myself out of life. I’ve just read and written away those years since I’ve been without her. I’ve built up a library on most subjects. There are so many books scattered around that I’ve started to worry that the floor may not be strong enough and one day I’ll descend with my paper friends into your bedroom, hopefully at a not inappropriate time.” He laughed but Elinda suspected that he was using a subtle subterfuge in introducing as humour an interest in her private life. She chose to ignore his comment and in laughing with him, to take it simply as humour. He saw that she had chosen to miss the implication, he felt sure that she was bright enough to have noticed and that the inference was that her private life was not for discussion.

“If you want to borrow a book on the lesser known painters on the periphery of the Pre- Raphaelites, I have one of the few copies.”

“Have you? Yes I would like to see it, strange they do not know of such a book in the British Library. Who wrote it?”

He looked awkwardly at her. “There is a reason why you’ve never heard of it. It is actually one I wrote. It never got past the dummy stage. The publisher went broke. Probably publishing the book which was very expensive would have pushed him over the edge anyway - we all knew it would have a small market. He, like me loves the subject and he just spent too much on the illustrations.” He stopped, anticipating her question. “Yes, I could have saved him, the amount of money involved was fairly small but he is a man of pride and would not accept that I should take on the losses from his mistakes.”

“What a pity. Yes I would like to borrow the book. Why don’t you come down for a meal one evening and bring it with you.”

“Shall we walk to the station,” he said, “I know you don’t have much time.”

As they walked, he said, “I hope you won’t think I am ungrateful, I would love to come to dinner with you but, you see, I already know Antonio. There was a business he was involved in and I think he would not welcome me.”

“Really, when was that? When you were a lawyer? How do you know him?” she asked. What Charlie had said, sounded ominously as though there was a mystery in Antonio’s life. She had already become suspicious and Charlie’s words seemed to add to her growing worries about Antonio. “What was the business?” she asked

“Nothing serious really, just a small matter. I can understand what he did but it would cause conflict if I met him again, I fear.”

“What do you mean, Charlie. You must tell me, please.”

He sensed the anxiety in her voice. “It was insignificant and not something I want to talk about because if I did, it would raise it to the status of a concern for me and it isn’t. If you can leave it as trivial but better not to be discussed, it would be best.”

They walked on in silence as she found that she could think of nothing but her doubts about Antonio. When they reached the station, she said a quiet goodbye as she turned to go down into the tube. Charlie walked on for a few minutes and, looking back to see that she had gone, turned and walked back to his apartment.

She got back late from the office that evening.

Antonio was sitting in his chair with his back to the door. He did not turn as she walked in. “I’ve been waiting over an hour.” He shouted over his shoulder. “You always have dinner ready, I’m starving. Where have you been?”

“Where have I been?” For the first time since they had met, she felt consuming anger as she looked down suddenly seeing him as a ‘slob’ slouching in the chair. “Wouldn’t it be nice if you cooked the meal for me for a change? I’ve been working on the exhibition and I’ll have to go in early tomorrow”

Antonio got up from the couch and, from the way he walked towards her, Elinda could smell he had been drinking while he had been waiting for her. When he stood in front of her, he raised his right hand and struck her. She was grateful he was drunk because she was able to ride the blow and in the same movement, turned and ran out of the flat. She heard him fall as he tried to follow her. Even in her fear, she felt inclined to go back to him to see if he was hurt, but one glance showed that he was beginning to raise himself and she hastened down the stairs. She had seen him in a stupor many times before but he had only once before attempted to hit her and when he had sobered up, he had claimed he had only wanted to dance with her and had slipped.

Outside, the air was cold and she found that she had rushed out with only her thin dress on. She shivered both from the cold and from the horror of what Antonio had done.

She had decided to go to her own flat which she had kept going as a security against the affair with Antonio failing. But she felt sure that he would come there to find her and, in the sort of rage she knew he was capable of, could injure her seriously. She jumped into a taxi and, when it arrived at her flat, asked the driver to wait. She grabbed a few clothes in a bag and left. Only when she was in a hotel room and had closed the door behind her and turned the lock did she begin to feel secure. The hotel was small and anonymous. The sort of place Antonio would never think of staying in and so she knew he would never find her. Fully clothed, she lay on the bed, with the light off, looking at the reflection on the ceiling of the streetlights and the cars headlights as they passed. For several hours she lay there silently, waiting for her heartbeat to slow. Eventually she fell fitfully asleep but woke at any noise. The morning came and she showered quickly. After a breakfast brought to her room, she rang her office to say she was unwell and would phone again when she had recovered. In the room, she lay on the bed until she was more composed. Then she went to the window, looked out, half expecting Antonio to be there. She saw that there was a second hand bookshop opposite. With trepidation, she walked out of the hotel, crossed the road and was delighted that she was able to find one on Burne-Jones and several of the other Pre-Raphaelites. The book was one that she would have to read in preparation for the exhibition and she returned to the hotel room in anticipation. She had always been unable to relax and the thought of staying in the hotel room without working had made her feel even more depressed than she had been. She spent the morning studying the book and taking notes but after several hours she found she had not properly read the first chapter because she was unable to stop thinking about Antonio

She was in such turmoil that she began to think that the whole affair which had lasted nearly a year was empty and pointless. But strangely she needed the reassurance that he still cared, still wanted her. By the middle of the afternoon, she felt sure Antonio would have called to see where she was and she rang the office again

When her secretary’s voice told her the names of the callers and his name did not appear amongst them, she put the phone down in a state of despair. In spite of her distaste for him, she was disappointed that he had not rung to find where she was. As she turned back to the book, her thoughts were again dominated by him, it occurred to her that he had been using her all this time and that she had been a fool. So much of her recent life had been for him that a fear came over her that she would always want him and yet never see him again.

The man who had meant so much to her, she now realised had contributed nothing to the relationship. She had paid the rent on his flat while he was sorting out what he called ‘some complicated money matters’. She bought and cooked the meals they ate. When he was away, she had spent her evenings and nights alone while he dealt with ‘important’ business in other parts of the country while she cooked and froze meals for his return. She had even found pleasure in tidying the flat of the rubble he always left. At other times, she had been happy to extricate him from situations with business acquaintances which she would normally have found acutely embarrassing.

The love that she had thought was gone, now began to dominate her mind so much that if Antonio had appeared at the door of the hotel room, she would have leapt into his arms and caressed him.

She looked at her watch and, with astonishment, saw that two hours had passed since she had ‘phoned. Apart from getting the book, she had not left the hotel room and it struck her that she had not eaten for nearly a day.

On impulse, she picked up the ‘phone and dialed another number.

With a rush of pleasure, she heard Charlie’s voice at the other end saying “Hello”

“Charlie,” she said, “Can I see you, are you free?”

“Yes, I’m only writing and I’ve come to a pause. I was just going out to get something to eat. Why do you have a problem, Where are you?”

Elinda explained where she was and said, “Charlie… this is difficult to say but can you be sure you are not followed I...I don’t want it known where I am staying.”

“I understand, Elinda.”

Within half an hour, Charlie was knocking on the door of the hotel room. In his hand was a carrier bag.

“I suspected you might not have eaten so I’ve brought some cold food, filled baguettes and cold ham and salad and coffees. From the tone of your voice I guessed you would not want to eat out.”

“Charlie, you are an angel. I hadn’t noticed how hungry I was getting.”

He saw that there was no table in the room so went to the bathroom and brought out a large bath towel which he placed on the floor to lay the food on. Sitting down beside the towel, he picked up the coffee and said.

“Let’s drink to a happy future.”

“What a nice thought, Charlie.” she said, sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him and giving him a kiss on the forehead.

For a moment he paused and then said.

“When you did that,” he looked away, “it struck me that that was the first female contact I have had since Maria died.”

“How sad, Charlie, and here I’ve been, moping all day about something which should have made me relieved.”

“I can probably guess what it is.”

“I’ve left Antonio.”

“And you are probably worried that he will come after you.”

“I’m finding it hard to understand what I feel. Sometimes, something I can’t understand tells me I want to see him but at other times I know that if he came in at the door which you have just walked through, I think I would die from… terror.” Even while she said this, Elinda was aware that the fears had begun to disappear as she sat beside Charlie and listened to his calming voice. “Perhaps it’s just that my self-confidence needs to be reassured that he still needs me”

“Elinda, I don’t know your Antonio very well but I know the sort of person he is. “ Charlie said. “You’ve got away from him and I think you should forget him. I know that’s easy to say and it may be difficult to do but you have a chance to live your own life and I think you should do just that.”

With his words in her mind, Elinda began to relax and forget her concerns as she hungrily ate the food Charlie had brought with him.

“Thank you for that and thank you for this food, I hadn’t realised how much I needed it.” When she had eaten she said. “Do you have another name, Charlie. It’s just that I don’t think Charlie is right for you.”

“My first name is Andrew. My wife always called me Charlie because she found it amusing. The name just stuck and I’ve been Charlie since I first met her. Call me Andrew if you like. I prefer the name anyhow.”

Elinda leaned across to him, kissed his hand and said “Andrew, Andrew, Andrew, you are so nice to be with.”

But, even as she spoke, her mind held the memory of the beautiful man she had left and she knew she would have to go back to the Restaurant Maiva. Just once, she told herself, would be enough to expiate him from her memory.

Derek Bates livesin the New Forest in the South of England. Over twenty years ago, he formed a successful science based business but has now left this to concentrate on writing. He is passionate about meeting people and hearing their stories. He is concerned about social issues. - loneliness, for instance. He has written a range of articles for journals, political reform, the ailment of Capitalsm etc. He has two novels and a non-fiction book published, two others and a series of short stories not yet published but nearing completion, all linked on you tube under ‘Manta Has Gone’. derek@mtechltd.co.uk