An Ocean Apart (34 page)

Chapter
  
TWENTY-ONE

There had been all-round improvement at the Newman household by the time the day of the tennis party came round. Firstly, Benji's tennis had now reached the stage that he could hold an extensive rally with David, even though David had to make sure that he kept hitting the ball to his forehand, otherwise it was quite likely to end up in the swimming pool. His ukulele playing likewise went from strength to strength, the only times that he was ever seen without the instrument being when he was playing tennis or at school, not yet having the confidence to show off his newly discovered prowess to his fellow pupils.

Despite this, he had decided that he would try entering a little song of his own for the school talent competition, his motivation for this being derived from the fact that David had himself written a little ditty about Dodie, specifically for Benji to play on the three chords that he had learned. However, throughout its first recital, Benji had criticized the song endlessly for its lack of accuracy and bad rhyming.

“So the chords are just straight G, C and D-Seventh—like that. Okay?”

“Yup. Can I do it now?”

“Hang on! You don't even know how it goes yet!”

“Okay. But I'll do it next time.”

“All right. Now, are you listening?”

“Yup.”

“Life is filled with such wonderful things

Like beer and hot apfelstrudel—”

“What's apfelstrudel?”

“It's a sort of a German apple-tart.”

“Do you always eat it with beer?”

“No, I don't think so.”

“Well then, why beer and hot apfelstrudel?”

“Because it rhymes, Benji.”

“With what?”

“Just hold your horses! We haven't got there yet.

“But it's beaten by far

By a ride in the car

With Dodie the fun-loving poodle—”

“That's ridiculous! Can't you think of anything else to rhyme with poodle?”

“Hey, give me a break! It only took me an hour to write this!”

“An hour! But it's only five lines long!”

“Just wait, Sir Tim Rice, I haven't finished yet!”

“Who's Sir Tim Rice?”

“Listen, do you want me to go on or not?”

“Okay.”

“We ride around the town

With the top folded down

And in Leesport I tell you that's freezin'—”

“No, it's not!”

“Not what?”

“It's never freezing in Leesport. Well, not in summer, anyway. In winter, it sometimes goes down to minus—”

“Benji!”

“Okay, I suppose you only used the word to rhyme with—”

“Look, do you want me to go on or not?”

“Sorry.”

“Then the air becomes thick

You think Dodie's been sick

But it turns out that she's only breathin'.”

“Hey! I like that!”

“Thank goodness! I've made an impression at last.”

“Only
freezin'
doesn't rhyme with
breathin'
.”

“Oh, forget it then!”

“No, please, David, do it again!”

“No. Couldn't be bothered. Anyway, I haven't finished it yet.”

“
Please,
David, sing the whole thing! I promise I won't interrupt again.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah, promise. Go on, how does it start?”

“Life is filled with such wonderful things

Like beer and hot apfelstrudel

But it's beaten by far

By a ride in the car

With Dodie the fun-loving poodle.

“We ride around town

With the top folded down

And in Leesport I tell you that's freezin'.”

“Though it's not!”

“You said you weren't—”

“Sorry!”

“Then the air becomes thick

You think Dodie's been sick

But it turns out that she's only breathin'.”

“Right, all together now!”

“Life is filled with such wonderful things

Like beer and hot apfelstrudel.

But it's beaten by far

By a ride in the car

With Dodie the fun-loving poodle.

“Well, she sits in her seat

Growls at all that she meets

'Cept the boy, and her boss who's a

navvy.”

“Is the boy me?”

“Yeah.”

“Great! Er, David?”

“What?”

“Can I ask another question?”

“What?”

“What's a navvy?”

“A workman. That's me.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“Can I go on?”

“Okay.”

“But although she goes wuff!

She's just a bundle of fluff

And you can use her to clean out the

lavvy!”

“A lavvy?”

“A loo—a toilet. I don't know what you call it.”

“Hey, that's really
rude!
”

“Well, those are the lyrics.”

“I think it's great! But I bet I could do just as well!”

“Well, do it then!”

“Okay, I will. But can I do that one now?”

*   *   *

It soon became their constant anthem, both of them singing it out loud as they drove back and forth through Leesport on the school run, with Dodie, ever present in the back seat, lapping up every moment of reflected glory.

*   *   *

June had also brought out an abundance of new colour in the garden, which helped to create a fresh and exciting vibrancy to the already perfect setting of the house. Roses of every hue bloomed majestically, while flocks and Japanese irises, encouraged by the warm weather, stretched their spindly necks above the hydrangeas and spicy-smelling geraniums, splashing their pin-points of colour against the blue backdrop of the bay. The trumpet-vine that grew at the front of the house and climbed high onto the veranda above the conservatory broke open its flowers, spreading them outward so that they licked like tiny incandescent flames at the white wooden railings and the shingles around the upper windows.

This all helped give David even greater impetus in his work. He had found a small garden centre five miles out of Leesport on the Montauk Highway, where he had bought an abundance of herbaceous shrubs and bedding plants to fill in the gaps that had been left by the previous gardener. However, his eccentric appearance whilst shopping, pushing his laden trolley along the paths with a poodle attached by its lead to the handle, soon drew the attention of the young couple who owned the place, and subsequently, during his third visit, they introduced themselves and asked him into their office for coffee and muffins. Visits thereafter gradually lengthened in time, and even though they became firm friends, he eventually had to try stockpiling his lists in order to cut down both on the time he spent away from the garden and on his intake of caffeine.

Nevertheless, it was these friends, really genuine friends, that he had made during his short time in Leesport who helped him prove to himself that his own healing process was well under way. No longer did he wish to head home each night to sit alone in the house. He actively sought company, and when he was not having supper with Jasmine and Benji, he either dropped in at the Leesport Bar for a beer and a chat with the locals, or he was being invited out for dinner with new-found acquaintances. On one such occasion it had been at the house of Clive and his friend Peter. While David was made to sit at the kitchen table, the two men accompanied the preparation of the meal with a hilarious and obviously well-rehearsed two-man act, each singing and dancing around the other, saucepan and mixing bowl in hand, to the strains of an old recording of
My Fair Lady.

But the closest relationship he had of all was brought about by his daily contact with Jasmine and Benji, the bond that he had now formed with the young boy helping to bring thoughts of his own children constantly to the surface of his mind. Every second night he would sit down to write each a letter, starting always by knocking off the number of days left to the end of term with the words “Then Holiday Time!!” written after the scored-out figure. He really missed them so much, and although he felt apprehensive about eventually having to return to Scotland, there was also a profound excitement at the thought of being with them again.

Yet at present it was the environment of the Newman household which gave him the strongest indication that he was returning to normality, both the simplicity of his own existence and the innocent, uncomplicated chemistry engendered by his two friends helping to reduce the tangled mess of barbed wire in his brain to a smooth, straight line of clear thought.

Consequently, life for him revolved around his work in the garden: the tennis matches with Benji, for which Jasmine, at Benji's insistence, had now been made to perch on a step-ladder at the side of the net, calling out what was invariably the wrong score, but all adding to the authenticity and importance of the occasion; the ferry trips to Fire Island with Benji, who, more often than not, was allowed to demonstrate his nautical skills by taking over at the helm; the evenings in the kitchen or on the terrace, drinking wine with Jasmine whilst Benji interrupted them constantly to sing Dodie's song or yet another line of his own “hit” single; and then Jasmine's driving lessons up the drive, which numbered only one and a bit, Jasmine having stormed off halfway through the second, leaving her passengers bent double with uncontrollable laughter at her total inability to master clutch control.

However, despite their ever-deepening friendship, David never mentioned anything about his past, unprepared to start revealing any of his innermost thoughts. This was not through any lack of trust or opportunity in confiding in Jasmine, but more that he was frightened of the reaction that he himself might have to his own revelation, knowing that it could so easily open up healing wounds and allow the infection of unwelcome sorrow to penetrate his mind again.

Friday had been such a beautiful day, with the sea breeze picking up enough to blow away the sticky humidity which had hung about since the previous weekend, that David had picked up Benji from school and, with Jasmine's permission, they had gone straight to the marina to catch the ferry to Fire Island. There they had spent the late afternoon and early evening, happily playing football on the beach and swimming in the sea, making it back across the boardwalk just in time to catch the last ferry home. Because it was too late to complete the work that he had scheduled for himself that day, David decided to return to finish off his tasks on the Saturday.

He arrived at the house at his usual time of eight-fifteen in the morning, to be met by Benji, who came running out of the kitchen still wearing his pyjamas. He proceeded to rattle off a garbled explanation about why he wouldn't be able to keep him company until later, seeing that his father was home and he wanted to play him his new song. David excused him, secretly relieved that he would now be allowed to complete the rest of the mowing without interruption.

By mid-day, the lawn tractor was back in the shed, and he had moved down to the flower-bed at the farthest end of the tennis court to plant the rest of the shrubs that he had purchased from the garden centre two days beforehand. He was in the process of digging in a new dwarf rhododendron when he heard voices coming from around the side of the hedge and turned to see five figures dressed in tennis whites slowly make their way towards the small summer-house at the other end of the court, chatting as they walked. Dodie let out a short bark to warn him of strangers in their garden.

“Dodie! That's enough!” he said quietly, watching them long enough to see Benji careering around the corner on his bicycle before turning back to his work.

“Benji! Watch out! You nearly ran over Sam!”

“Sorry, Sam! Sorry, Dad!
HI, DAVID
!”

David looked up and gave him a brief wave before returning to his work.

“Who's that, Jennifer?” David heard a female voice say.

“That's David, the new gardener. God, look, I'd better go and have a word with him. I haven't spoken to him since he first arrived. Listen, Alex, darling, why don't you play with Molly—no, that's not fair—Russ, you play with Molly, and Alex, you play with Sam.”

“Christ, Jennifer, I
still
think it's too hot to play. I mean, it's the middle of the day!”

“Come on, moaner, you've been sitting on a plane all week. It'll do you good, and anyway, it might sweat off some of those extra pounds that total inactivity has put on your middle!”

There was an outburst of laughter.

“Thanks for nothing!”

“Can't I introduce Dad to David, Mom?” Benji asked.

“Yeah, why can't I meet Superman?”

“Sssh, Alex! For God's sakes, he might hear. Just go play some tennis.”

There was the general mumbling of voices and the sound of tennis-racket covers being unzipped, and David had just heard the clink of the bolt being slid across on the court gate when a voice spoke at his side.

“Hi.”

He turned in his bent position to look at a pair of long brown legs, his eyes following them upwards to the fringe of a short white tennis skirt. He stood up quickly, not wishing to make it look as if he was lingering on the sight, to find Jennifer standing beside him. He'd had only had a fleeting glimpse of her since their first meeting, that being on the previous Saturday, when he had come over especially to give Benji a tennis lesson. She had come out onto the veranda above the conservatory to watch them play for five minutes before going back into the house. Benji had said something about her being busy working on a new contract.