Maxwell felt that he should try and set things right with Liz. The night before he hadn’t responded as well as he could have to the news of her mother. He’d instantly been hit by this gut-wrenching panic that this one event would ruin her life.
He wanted her to have everything in the future and for a short moment he hated her mother for her weaknesses. This internal conflict had caused him to be bitter and knew his wife and Liz probably got the wrong impression.
It was a Monday morning so he got up early as usual and took his tea to the balcony. He hoped to speak to Liz before he left for the factory but she didn’t get up. He figured she had adequate reasoning not to get up and eagerly join the world today. He left her a note saying that she should have something to eat (the cook would make her anything) and then perhaps—if she wanted—she could come and visit him at work.
During the car ride to work he managed to switch his thoughts to business matters. Such as the launch of a new grainy fabric that was being shipped to Paris later that day. For him, this was such a mundane part of work and he wished only to hear about was going on in the British Parliament. Politics never ceased being fascinating to him.
“Good Morning Mr. Evans.” His secretary greeted him at the door. “How are we today?”
“Fine, thank you Margaret and yourself?”
She could hardly contain her excitement. Maxwell didn’t even need to see her smile to feel the energy pouring off of her. “My boyfriend finally proposed,” she said giddily.
“Well congratulations,” he replied genuinely. “That’s wonderful news.”
Margaret held the door open for him and they entered the factory floor. It was regularity for Maxwell to take a lap around the machines and have a quick chat with his employees on a Monday morning.
“He’ll want me to hand in my notice,” Margaret added.
Maxwell stopped smiling, finding a new secretary would be a hassle. Although, he was kind. He didn’t want to put a damper on her happy announcement. “Of course,” he said. “I understand.”
“I’ll be certain to help you search for a replacement,” she said.
He nodded. “That would be helpful.”
All day he kept thinking about when Liz would come and visit him but she never did. On and off he would ponder her future, like it was his responsibility to make sure that she got the best education and had nothing but the best care. At one point he got so horrified with himself for trying to act like her father that he had to go for a walk and drink a whisky at the same time.
That didn’t stop him from asking Margaret to look into Girls College’s in the region, preferably female and art orientated.
It was nearing five in the afternoon when Hannah stopped by his office. He was in a meeting at the time but she waited and then they went outside for a walk.
The two of them weren’t what you would call the best of friends, but because they had been forced together by their mutual love for Josephine they made an effort.
“I just brought some forms Josie wanted you to sign,” she explained. “They’re for the joint checking account; she wants to buy something or rather.”
Maxwell nodded. “Where is she now?”
“Shopping of course, with Liz I believe. Josephine really feels horrible about what happened with Mrs. Parker. She wants to make Liz feel happy as best she can.”
Maxwell didn’t know if Liz would enjoy Josephine’s pity. In getting to know her he’d learnt that she wasn’t the type that enjoyed sympathy—whether it was from someone else or herself.
He stopped walking and leaned against a tree. “Is it strange…” he asked slowly, “that I feel uneasy when she’s spending time with my friend?”
Hannah chuckled. “That’s called being possessive,” she said with amusement. “Is that the problem, you think?”
Maxwell wondered what the alternative to that could be. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll ask my psychiatrist when I go to my appointment in an hour.”
Hannah breathed in loudly. “It’s not good to rely on your psychiatrist for answers.”
“You and Josephine are giving me conflicting information.”
“Well Josephine isn’t always right,” Hannah said with amusement. “But we’d never let her know we think that, would we?”
“Never.”
Once Hannah had left Maxwell went back to his office and spoke on the phone to one of his exporters. He hoped that the transportation of his fabric would take under a week this time, the last delivery he made got lost heaven knows where and didn’t arrive for nearly a month. He was assured this wouldn’t happen again.
His psychiatrist tried not hide his aggravation when Maxwell turned up ten minutes behind schedule.
Through thinly pressed lips he said, “Better things to do today Mr. Evans?”
“Oh no,” Maxwell replied, “Nothing compares to these wonderfully expensive meetings I have with you.”
He took a seat and crossed his legs.
“Let’s begin shall we?”
~*~
Liz wondered if Josephine was afraid to leave her alone. By sunset she was thirsty for a moment to herself, if only for a few minutes. They’d been shopping all morning, followed by lunch and then tea with a lady named Victoria Matheson (or something along those lines). She’d been numbingly boring and had dyed black hair and too much blue eye makeup. Liz could still recall staring dumbly at the foundation-filled crevices in her face.
“You know what would be fabulous?” Josephine said. The two of them were now sorting through their purchases. They were in the guest room that Liz was occupying. “If you came to the company anniversary party. I’m sure Maxwell wouldn’t mind if you were there. It’s next Friday…oh and you’d get to wear one of the dresses I got you.”
Liz didn’t know how to say no.
But she did anyway.
“What do you mean no?!” Josephine cried. “Of course you’ll come! I’ll be fantastic.”
When Maxwell finally got home Liz couldn’t have been happier.
“Maxwell, I bought Liz a beautiful blue dress today. It goes so well with her brown hair, like you wouldn’t imagine!"
Maxwell cringed. “Josephine please, I’ve just walked in the door. Let me sit down first.”
She ignored his exasperated comment. “Did you go to your therapy?” she asked.
“Yes, that’s just where I’ve been.”
Liz found it fascinating to watch the two of them. Their very obvious differences in personality were amusing.
“Hello Maxwell,” she said. “We waited for you to have dinner.”
“Hello Liz,” he smiled. “You shouldn’t have waited, it’s quite late. I hope you aren’t starved.”
She was quick to reassure him, “No, I’m fine.”
Josephine decided not to stay and eat with them. Maxwell said, “Don’t you have someone at home waiting for you?” and she got the hint and left. Liz was so glad.
Josephine could be plain exhausting.
While at the dinner table she filled him in on what they’d done. “Maxwell…I’d wanted to go and visit my mother today but when your wife arrived I felt obliged to go out with her.”
“Don’t feel obliged,” he said. “Just tell her no. She’ll have no choice but to listen. I’m sorry she took up all of your time.”
Liz noticed how tired and grumpy Maxwell was when he got home. She felt sorry for him. It was clear that many things about his day made him dissatisfied. “No I’m not complaining,” she clarified. “I would just like to go and see my mother tomorrow perhaps.”
“Of course.” He sipped his drink and then continued eating.
She loved it how she could stare at his face all she wanted and he couldn’t catch her. Somehow, the more she got to know him the more handsome he seemed.
“I’d also like to…go home tomorrow,” she said.
He nodded. “To get more of your things? Yes, I understand…”
“Not to get more of my things,” Liz replied hesitantly. “To stay. I’d like to just…go home.”
He put down his fork and touched his knuckles to his lips. “You won’t stay here?”
She shook her head. “No. I really wouldn’t feel comfortable.”
He looked disappointed and she was surprised. She’d gotten the impression that he felt obliged to take her in. She told him that now.
“No, no,” he quickly said, barely letting her finish. “I wanted to speak to you about that. I reacted badly to the news of your mother and I’m sorry. The truth is, I was worried about you and that’s all.”
Liz swallowed “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Of course,” he said. “Liz…you’ve become my best friend. I want to do everything I can for you and that’s the truth.”
“You’ve become my best friend too,” she replied.
That night when Maxwell was sipping his whisky and Liz was listening to his records she decided she wanted to drink too. She asked him for a taste.
“I don’t think you’ll like it,” he said with amusement.
“So?” she took the glass from him. “Can I try your cigar too?”
“What?” he laughed. “Why?”
“Why not?”
The whisky burned her throat but she wanted to drink like him so she asked for a whole glass. “You like it?” he asked. “I wish I could see your face.”
“It’s…interesting,” she answered.
He laughed merrily. “Let me get you something not quite so strong.”
“What does Josephine usually have?”
“Cherry,” he answered. “Would you like that?”
“Yes please.”
~*~
It wasn’t until they were piling into his car and heading to the movies that Maxwell realized he had completely forgotten his bad mood. When he’d arrived home he’d been in such a depressed state that he didn’t know how he was going to make it through the evening. Therapy always did that to him.
The Psychiatrist tried to make him talk about things he wanted to keep tucked away. It made him so frustrated.
Liz had somehow cured him of his moodiness.
“I asked my secretary to look into colleges in the region,” he told her eventually.
“What for?” she asked, surprised.
Maxwell too, was surprised. “Aren’t you in the least interested in furthering your education?”
“Not right now, no.”
He didn’t continue the discussion but thought about it throughout the movie they ‘watched’. She wasn’t holding back from moving onto the next phase in her life because of him was she?
Lately he was getting the impression that maybe Liz thought of him as more than a friend. When she took his hand in the dark of the cinema he realized that he didn’t share those potential feelings. The idea of sharing anything other than friendship with her didn’t appeal to him at the moment.
All he wanted was her to continue making him laugh like she did now. He was willing to do anything to keep that, even if it meant pretending.
After they’d gone back to his place Liz asked if he would come to see her mother with her tomorrow.
“Would you like me to?” he asked. They were standing in the foyer, hanging up their coats.
“Yes please,” she answered. “I’m going to bed now. It’s been an exhausting day.”
“It has indeed.”
He knew what she was going to do. There was definitely going to be a repeat of the night before because he’d never said anything to stop her the last time.
Sure enough, she leaned up and pecked his lips softly.
“Goodnight,” she said.
“Goodnight.”
~*~
Hey.....man, i was looking at Jason's website yesterday and damn he is looking good. Even better than he used to. All I can think is Yum! What does everyone else think, better or no?
Anyway, hope you liked the part and thank you, thank you, thank you for your patience. I have exams for the next four weeks--wish me luck!
lots of love
~nicola
Screen (AU,M/L,TEEN) AN 4/11/06 [WIP]
Moderators: Anniepoo98, ISLANDGIRL5, truelovepooh, Forum Moderators
When Liz got to the hospital in the early afternoon she regretted bringing Maxwell with her. They walked to Samantha’s room together but once outside the door, she asked him quietly if he could remain outside for a little while.
He seemed to understand, for which she was thankful, and as she knocked on the door he walked down the passage and took a seat on the waiting room chairs a few feet away.
She was terrified to see Samantha but forced herself to be brave. She couldn’t help but feel that she was partially to blame for this situation. Perhaps if she’d made more of an attempt to console her…
Samantha barely said hello. Her room was extremely plain and stark white. Liz realized she’d expected it to look like that.
“Sam?” she asked. There was a seat near the window and that’s where she sat, overlooking the yard and its tall trees.
“Liz,” Samantha replied slowly. She swallowed. “Hello.”
“Hello.”
To Liz this exchange felt extremely strained and uncomfortable. She already regretted coming.
“How are you?” she asked, out of duty. “The grounds here are quite nice aren’t they?”
Samantha didn’t reply to either statement. She swallowed again and turned to look at her daughter. Liz saw such lifelessness in her. She’d given up whatever fight she’d been engaged in.
“Liz, I just want to say sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough and that you’ll have to live with this.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Liz replied. She was still standing, not very far from the door, with her feet crossed and her hands in front of her thighs. Her discomfort couldn’t have been anymore blatantly obvious. “None of this is your fault.”
She should have said that so long ago.
“It is my fault,” Samantha argued. “I don’t have the will…you know? I just don’t want to try and move on. I’m stuck…”
“That’s why you’re here, that’s what this place will help you with. You’ll get that drive back.”
Samantha turned her eyes back to the landscape and Liz had to wait awkwardly for her to say something more. She realized she had tears in her eyes and was surprised at herself.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha repeated.
A few minutes passed with nothing but silence and Liz knew she wouldn’t get any more out of her. She left the room and closed the door.
Maxwell stood when he heard the door close. As she walked to meet him she thought about how much she hated her youthful ignorance. If she were five years older she would have known how to make things better.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked.
He looked perplexed. “Already? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she assured him.
~*~
Maxwell had to spend a great deal of time persuading Liz before she would agree to come to Evans Fabrics anniversary party. He didn’t understand her reluctance but was relieved when she finally said she could accompany him.
She prepared for the evening at Josephine’s house and then the three of them arrived together in Maxwell’s most distinguished car. Josephine decided that it would be best if they told people that Liz was her cousin so as to avoid too much question.
“People like to make up scandals,” she explained to Liz. “It’s frightfully annoying. If their lives were more interesting they wouldn’t have to.”
“But you two are hiding a scandal,” Liz said openly. “So really they wouldn’t have to make one up.”
Josephine chuckled. “That’s true. But everyone would blow it out of proportion. And besides, I’m talking about your relationship with Maxwell. Not everyone would believe your friendship is as chaste as you make it out to be.”
Maxwell found that conversation amusing and couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not as bad as she makes it out to be,” he assured her.
He was very conscious of everything Liz did throughout the evening. He’d assured her a good time and anytime she could be potentially bored he did something to change that. Finally, after his thank you speech to all his visitors, he wouldn’t listen to her dance refusals anymore and took her arm—leading her to the floor.
She timidly put her hand on his shoulder and let him lead her. “You were afraid I would stand on your toes?” he asked. “Well I won’t, I promise.”
Her palm felt warm and soft in his and he squeezed it gently. “You look really handsome tonight, Maxwell,” she said.
“And you look stunning,” he teased, pretending to give her a once over.
“Ha ha,” she replied dryly.
“No, I’m serious. I’m sure you look wonderful Liz.” He lifted his arm in a perfect ark and spun her around. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m glad I did.”
At the end of the song they returned to the side lines and involved themselves in a conversation with Josephine and a few other couples. They were talking about Maxwell’s secretary’s upcoming wedding and how delightful the couple were.
“Maxwell, I had a grand idea!” Josephine said. “Liz could work for you and fill Margaret’s position.”
Maxwell was about to agree when Liz snorted unattractively. Everyone was surprised.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said and then laughed as if the suggestion was completely absurd.
“You wouldn’t do that?” a woman with the title Lady Went asked. She didn’t sound impressed.
“Not a chance in hell,” Liz answered inappropriately.
Josephine was surprised and quickly changed the topic as to avoid an uncomfortable moment. “Margaret really did a very good job. It would be a shame to see her go.”
“I agree,” Maxwell nodded. “Perhaps we will be invited to the wedding.”
“Oh I love weddings!” Lady Went exclaimed. “I don’t go to nearly enough of them. Josephine, how was your and Maxwell’s wedding? I imagine it was simply divine.”
“Oh, well…that was quite a while ago,” Josephine said. “I remember it was simple. Mostly only our families were there…Maxwell was to be shipped out in a couple of days, you see. There wasn’t much time to plan anything.”
“Oh well you should have another ceremony then,” another lady, whom Maxwell didn’t know, interrupted. “It’s quite in fashion to do that.”
“I don’t think that is necessa—” Maxwell started.
“Well actually we’re getting a divorce,” Josephine suddenly chirped out. Every one was surprised by her announcement, but not as much as Maxwell and Liz. As far as they knew the separation was still supposed to be a secret.
“A divorce?” everyone said, breathing in collectively.
“Yes,” Josephine said. “Maxwell and I are no longer together.”
As soon as they could escape from questioning, Maxwell took his wife’s arm and led her to a secluded corner where he could speak to her. “What was all that?” he demanded. “Have you gone insane?”
“Yes,” she replied simply. “Maxwell, I’ve decided I’m ruining your life. What if you want to get married in the future, move on? What if you want to marry Liz? I will no longer hold you back.”
“What if I don’t want to get a divorce? Josephine, your reputation…”
“I don’t care about that anymore. And it’s too late anyway; I’ve already given our lawyer the papers.”
Maxwell was dumbfounded. “Excuse me? How is that possible without my signature?”
“You did sign it,” Josephine said. “You just didn’t know it.”
“What?” he cried.
“We really shouldn’t discuss this here,” Josephine began backing away. “People are looking. If you really wanted to stop the divorce, you could. But do you really want to Maxwell?”
Maxwell remained by himself for a long while, leaning against the wall. He felt enraged and cheated…but he also felt free.
Liz came over eventually to ask if he was okay.
“Yes,” he replied. “Do you want to leave? Suddenly this party is the last thing I want to do.”
“Are you allowed to leave?” she asked with amusement.
He smiled and took her bare arm. “I’m the boss aren’t I?”
They went back to his place and had dessert. “Do you know why Josephine did that?” Liz asked eventually. Maxwell knew that she had been trying to keep from prying but could no longer help herself.
He didn’t want to tell her that Josephine thought that he might want to marry her one day. He simply replied, “No, not really.”
“Oh.”
She took his hand and ran his fingers along the soft material of her dress skirt. “Your wife bought this dress. It is silk taffeta,” she said. “Pale silver-grey. It has an off the shoulder collar and elbow length sleeves…see?” she ran his hand down her arm. “It doesn’t seem right to get all dressed up if you can’t even see it. What a waste.”
Maxwell didn’t know what to say. He took his hand back and shifted in his seat. “Evans Fabrics makes silk taffeta. In my mind, I can see that you look very nice.”
“Hmm…” she sighed. “That’s not quite the same, but thank you nevertheless.”
~*~
Liz had been so bored at the company party. She knew she wouldn’t enjoy herself—formal parties just didn’t appeal to her. It meant a lot to Maxwell though and so she pretended to enjoy herself. Luckily, he’d wanted to leave early.
The last week she had slept at home. It wasn’t easy being there all by herself with nothing to do and no money, so she ended up getting herself a job at the nearest supermarket. Maxwell had tried to persuade her to use her father’s money but she wouldn’t do that now. Her mother had finally convinced her it wasn’t right.
Tonight however, she didn’t want to go home. She decided she’d stay at his house and after their dessert she got up to go to bed. “It’s made up for you already,” he said, before she could ask. “It always will be.”
She smiled. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Liz.”
That night she heard him having a nightmare again. She got up and went to his room. This time she didn’t leave him, but walked in and closed the door behind her. Maxwell tossed and turned in his expensive sheets and she crept up quietly, never tearing her eyes away from his agitated face. Silently, she climbed onto the bed beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Maxwell…” she said. “Maxwell wake up…”
When he didn’t respond she swallowed and took her hand away. It was quite dark in his room but she could see the outlines of his cheeks and lips. She could see his ruffled brown hair and his lined forehead…
Suddenly, unable to help herself she leaned down and kissed him on his lips. When he didn’t wake up and push her away, she left her mouth on his and closed her eyes. Unconsciously a happy sigh escaped her and she ran a hand down his face…it was thick with stubble.
She kissed him again and then pulled back, wanting to look at him but unexpectedly found that his eyes were wide open. Her face went bright red and she pulled back in embarrassment.
It was very awkward for a moment and then he cleared his throat.
Nervously she said, “You were having a night mare.”
“Yes,” he replied, “I was.”
When he didn’t attempt to say anything else she realized she was already embarrassed enough, she may as well tell him how she felt. “Maxwell…will you make love to me?” she asked and then leaned down and kissed him again. “I don’t care about anything, just would you please?”
“Liz,” he gasped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She lay down, pressing her face against his. “I don’t care how you feel about me; I just need you to make love to me.”
“Liz…I…”
She started unbuttoning his pyjama shirt and pressing kisses to his jaw. “Please…” she murmured, “Please…”
~*~
Ah it was before Thanksgiving!!!! I'm as shocked as you are, seriously. I sat down this afternoon and I said: I WILL get this part finished!
And I did...even though I have a bio exam tomorrow. Haha, I no longer care. Thank you for your patience!! Hope you liked it!
~Nicola
He seemed to understand, for which she was thankful, and as she knocked on the door he walked down the passage and took a seat on the waiting room chairs a few feet away.
She was terrified to see Samantha but forced herself to be brave. She couldn’t help but feel that she was partially to blame for this situation. Perhaps if she’d made more of an attempt to console her…
Samantha barely said hello. Her room was extremely plain and stark white. Liz realized she’d expected it to look like that.
“Sam?” she asked. There was a seat near the window and that’s where she sat, overlooking the yard and its tall trees.
“Liz,” Samantha replied slowly. She swallowed. “Hello.”
“Hello.”
To Liz this exchange felt extremely strained and uncomfortable. She already regretted coming.
“How are you?” she asked, out of duty. “The grounds here are quite nice aren’t they?”
Samantha didn’t reply to either statement. She swallowed again and turned to look at her daughter. Liz saw such lifelessness in her. She’d given up whatever fight she’d been engaged in.
“Liz, I just want to say sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough and that you’ll have to live with this.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Liz replied. She was still standing, not very far from the door, with her feet crossed and her hands in front of her thighs. Her discomfort couldn’t have been anymore blatantly obvious. “None of this is your fault.”
She should have said that so long ago.
“It is my fault,” Samantha argued. “I don’t have the will…you know? I just don’t want to try and move on. I’m stuck…”
“That’s why you’re here, that’s what this place will help you with. You’ll get that drive back.”
Samantha turned her eyes back to the landscape and Liz had to wait awkwardly for her to say something more. She realized she had tears in her eyes and was surprised at herself.
“I’m sorry,” Samantha repeated.
A few minutes passed with nothing but silence and Liz knew she wouldn’t get any more out of her. She left the room and closed the door.
Maxwell stood when he heard the door close. As she walked to meet him she thought about how much she hated her youthful ignorance. If she were five years older she would have known how to make things better.
“Are you ready to go?” she asked.
He looked perplexed. “Already? Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” she assured him.
~*~
Maxwell had to spend a great deal of time persuading Liz before she would agree to come to Evans Fabrics anniversary party. He didn’t understand her reluctance but was relieved when she finally said she could accompany him.
She prepared for the evening at Josephine’s house and then the three of them arrived together in Maxwell’s most distinguished car. Josephine decided that it would be best if they told people that Liz was her cousin so as to avoid too much question.
“People like to make up scandals,” she explained to Liz. “It’s frightfully annoying. If their lives were more interesting they wouldn’t have to.”
“But you two are hiding a scandal,” Liz said openly. “So really they wouldn’t have to make one up.”
Josephine chuckled. “That’s true. But everyone would blow it out of proportion. And besides, I’m talking about your relationship with Maxwell. Not everyone would believe your friendship is as chaste as you make it out to be.”
Maxwell found that conversation amusing and couldn’t help but smile. “It’s not as bad as she makes it out to be,” he assured her.
He was very conscious of everything Liz did throughout the evening. He’d assured her a good time and anytime she could be potentially bored he did something to change that. Finally, after his thank you speech to all his visitors, he wouldn’t listen to her dance refusals anymore and took her arm—leading her to the floor.
She timidly put her hand on his shoulder and let him lead her. “You were afraid I would stand on your toes?” he asked. “Well I won’t, I promise.”
Her palm felt warm and soft in his and he squeezed it gently. “You look really handsome tonight, Maxwell,” she said.
“And you look stunning,” he teased, pretending to give her a once over.
“Ha ha,” she replied dryly.
“No, I’m serious. I’m sure you look wonderful Liz.” He lifted his arm in a perfect ark and spun her around. “Thank you for coming.”
“I’m glad I did.”
At the end of the song they returned to the side lines and involved themselves in a conversation with Josephine and a few other couples. They were talking about Maxwell’s secretary’s upcoming wedding and how delightful the couple were.
“Maxwell, I had a grand idea!” Josephine said. “Liz could work for you and fill Margaret’s position.”
Maxwell was about to agree when Liz snorted unattractively. Everyone was surprised.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said and then laughed as if the suggestion was completely absurd.
“You wouldn’t do that?” a woman with the title Lady Went asked. She didn’t sound impressed.
“Not a chance in hell,” Liz answered inappropriately.
Josephine was surprised and quickly changed the topic as to avoid an uncomfortable moment. “Margaret really did a very good job. It would be a shame to see her go.”
“I agree,” Maxwell nodded. “Perhaps we will be invited to the wedding.”
“Oh I love weddings!” Lady Went exclaimed. “I don’t go to nearly enough of them. Josephine, how was your and Maxwell’s wedding? I imagine it was simply divine.”
“Oh, well…that was quite a while ago,” Josephine said. “I remember it was simple. Mostly only our families were there…Maxwell was to be shipped out in a couple of days, you see. There wasn’t much time to plan anything.”
“Oh well you should have another ceremony then,” another lady, whom Maxwell didn’t know, interrupted. “It’s quite in fashion to do that.”
“I don’t think that is necessa—” Maxwell started.
“Well actually we’re getting a divorce,” Josephine suddenly chirped out. Every one was surprised by her announcement, but not as much as Maxwell and Liz. As far as they knew the separation was still supposed to be a secret.
“A divorce?” everyone said, breathing in collectively.
“Yes,” Josephine said. “Maxwell and I are no longer together.”
As soon as they could escape from questioning, Maxwell took his wife’s arm and led her to a secluded corner where he could speak to her. “What was all that?” he demanded. “Have you gone insane?”
“Yes,” she replied simply. “Maxwell, I’ve decided I’m ruining your life. What if you want to get married in the future, move on? What if you want to marry Liz? I will no longer hold you back.”
“What if I don’t want to get a divorce? Josephine, your reputation…”
“I don’t care about that anymore. And it’s too late anyway; I’ve already given our lawyer the papers.”
Maxwell was dumbfounded. “Excuse me? How is that possible without my signature?”
“You did sign it,” Josephine said. “You just didn’t know it.”
“What?” he cried.
“We really shouldn’t discuss this here,” Josephine began backing away. “People are looking. If you really wanted to stop the divorce, you could. But do you really want to Maxwell?”
Maxwell remained by himself for a long while, leaning against the wall. He felt enraged and cheated…but he also felt free.
Liz came over eventually to ask if he was okay.
“Yes,” he replied. “Do you want to leave? Suddenly this party is the last thing I want to do.”
“Are you allowed to leave?” she asked with amusement.
He smiled and took her bare arm. “I’m the boss aren’t I?”
They went back to his place and had dessert. “Do you know why Josephine did that?” Liz asked eventually. Maxwell knew that she had been trying to keep from prying but could no longer help herself.
He didn’t want to tell her that Josephine thought that he might want to marry her one day. He simply replied, “No, not really.”
“Oh.”
She took his hand and ran his fingers along the soft material of her dress skirt. “Your wife bought this dress. It is silk taffeta,” she said. “Pale silver-grey. It has an off the shoulder collar and elbow length sleeves…see?” she ran his hand down her arm. “It doesn’t seem right to get all dressed up if you can’t even see it. What a waste.”
Maxwell didn’t know what to say. He took his hand back and shifted in his seat. “Evans Fabrics makes silk taffeta. In my mind, I can see that you look very nice.”
“Hmm…” she sighed. “That’s not quite the same, but thank you nevertheless.”
~*~
Liz had been so bored at the company party. She knew she wouldn’t enjoy herself—formal parties just didn’t appeal to her. It meant a lot to Maxwell though and so she pretended to enjoy herself. Luckily, he’d wanted to leave early.
The last week she had slept at home. It wasn’t easy being there all by herself with nothing to do and no money, so she ended up getting herself a job at the nearest supermarket. Maxwell had tried to persuade her to use her father’s money but she wouldn’t do that now. Her mother had finally convinced her it wasn’t right.
Tonight however, she didn’t want to go home. She decided she’d stay at his house and after their dessert she got up to go to bed. “It’s made up for you already,” he said, before she could ask. “It always will be.”
She smiled. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight Liz.”
That night she heard him having a nightmare again. She got up and went to his room. This time she didn’t leave him, but walked in and closed the door behind her. Maxwell tossed and turned in his expensive sheets and she crept up quietly, never tearing her eyes away from his agitated face. Silently, she climbed onto the bed beside him and put her hand on his shoulder.
“Maxwell…” she said. “Maxwell wake up…”
When he didn’t respond she swallowed and took her hand away. It was quite dark in his room but she could see the outlines of his cheeks and lips. She could see his ruffled brown hair and his lined forehead…
Suddenly, unable to help herself she leaned down and kissed him on his lips. When he didn’t wake up and push her away, she left her mouth on his and closed her eyes. Unconsciously a happy sigh escaped her and she ran a hand down his face…it was thick with stubble.
She kissed him again and then pulled back, wanting to look at him but unexpectedly found that his eyes were wide open. Her face went bright red and she pulled back in embarrassment.
It was very awkward for a moment and then he cleared his throat.
Nervously she said, “You were having a night mare.”
“Yes,” he replied, “I was.”
When he didn’t attempt to say anything else she realized she was already embarrassed enough, she may as well tell him how she felt. “Maxwell…will you make love to me?” she asked and then leaned down and kissed him again. “I don’t care about anything, just would you please?”
“Liz,” he gasped. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She lay down, pressing her face against his. “I don’t care how you feel about me; I just need you to make love to me.”
“Liz…I…”
She started unbuttoning his pyjama shirt and pressing kisses to his jaw. “Please…” she murmured, “Please…”
~*~
Ah it was before Thanksgiving!!!! I'm as shocked as you are, seriously. I sat down this afternoon and I said: I WILL get this part finished!
And I did...even though I have a bio exam tomorrow. Haha, I no longer care. Thank you for your patience!! Hope you liked it!
~Nicola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
“Liz, you’re upset…you aren’t thinking rationally. This isn’t a good idea.”
Maxwell tried to make Liz see his point of view but she didn’t want to change her mind. She pressed her body into his side and continued to kiss him and move her hands all over him. When she reached under the blanket and grasped his groin through his pyjama bottoms he jumped and forcefully pushed her away.
“Liz,” he said seriously.
“What’s the problem?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re upset about your mother and you’re just looking for comfort.”
“All the more reason to do it.”
Maxwell shook his head. “No, you’ll regret it.”
She sighed and the bed shifted as she rolled onto her side so her back was to him. He could hear her fiddling with the pillow case.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. The thought of her being too self-conscious to speak to him again was more then he could handle. “Liz, do you hear me?”
She sighed again.
“Liz…?”
“I hear you!” she cried angrily.
They lay there in silence for a long time and then, after she’d calmed down, Liz asked quietly, “Do you remember how you lost your eye sight?”
Maxwell swallowed. “No. I guess there must have been an explosion of some kind…”
There was silence again. Neither of them could sleep.
“Would you regret it?” she asked finally, moving closer to him. “Don’t you want to do it?”
“Liz, I…”
She kissed him again, slowly and passionately…her lips felt soft and sweet against his. It was gentle persuasion. Her last attempt to offer herself to him. He hadn’t felt that sensation in such a long time...
He could feel his restraint weaning and didn’t know what to do. Surely nothing good could come from this…but when it felt so good it was hard to believe that. Unbelievably, he allowed himself to be convinced and finally put his hands on her, first her arms—rubbing up and down—and then her hips.
“I won’t regret this…” she whispered into his ear and then he felt her tugging her nightgown off.
He could feel her bare breasts pressed against his shirt, they were heavy and round and her nipples were large and hard. He’d always imagined her figure but didn’t know for certain what it would be like. Full thighs, round hips, thin waist, medium height. That was all gathered from the couple of times he’d hugged her. Now he knew the definition of her figure quite clearly and she was a lot smaller than he’d thought. She was straight up and down, so to speak.
She removed his shirt and then pressed her bare chest into his. She was now practically on top of him, with her legs in-between his. Her mouth and hands were very eager and could be quite ferocious and impatient.
He was too aroused now, he couldn’t stop. It had been too long since he’d felt the wonderful burn of flesh on flesh. While his mind was cautious, his body couldn’t be. It seemed to act from its own free-will.
Liz was less experienced then him, he knew she’d certainly be a virgin, but she didn’t act like it. He had a fleeting thought that maybe she had thought about this quite a lot to have the knowledge she did. He found her quite domineering…not in a bad way, not like his wife had been. Being with Liz was very different from being with Josephine. His wife had seemed to find their love making a chore (he now knew why) and had never been fully content in it.
She had been giving, not wanting anything for herself. With Liz it didn’t seem to be about giving and taking, it was just doing. They both touched each other at once—nothing was choreographed like it had seemed with Josephine—they just did what they felt without thinking.
Maxwell ran his hand down the dip of her lower back and then up over the mound of her bottom. That was his favourite part of the women’s body. Liz had a very nice arc that his fingers delighted in. She herself seemed to find delight in touching his shoulders, arms and hands.
When they were both bare and wet in the dark, their breathing becoming harsher with every second—they finally came together. Liz squirmed beneath him at first, unsure how to adjust to the feel of being penetrated. That soon passed and they moved together.
Maxwell had forgotten—or more likely forced himself to forget—how wonderful it was to be so close with another person. Her soft curves pressed into his harder, more masculine body…it was indescribable. The heat in his stomach seemed to spread outwards, enveloping his body in a perfect bubble of desire.
Liz was less certain of herself now that he was inside and over her. Giving his lips a soft, but unsure peck, she was sweet and refreshingly innocent. She shifted her hands, trying to find the perfect place for them.
Maxwell tried to be as accommodating as possible, moving slowly at first and then gradually increasing the pace. His right hand was on her thigh, which was bent outwards to allow him easier access inside her. The other hand was on the slight bend of her waist.
Her quiet gasp when he came almost sounded frightened. His body relaxed with release and he slumped slightly on top of her. Her breathing stopped as if waiting to know what would happen next. He cupped her cheek and gave her a gentle kiss before shifting and lying down on the bed beside her.
Now that it was over, his desire was replaced by a sudden and unavoidable panic. Silently, he began to fret over what he’d just done and how wrong it had been. His feelings were amplified when she curled into his side, burying her face in his neck.
“I love you…” she whispered.
Her fingers spanned his stomach and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. What had he done? What had he done?
He couldn’t say get away with saying nothing, could he? He did love her…but…not in the way she clearly wanted. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe any type of love was enough. Maybe his friendly love would be enough…?
After minutes had passed and he hadn’t spoken, she asked hesitantly, “Do you love me?” her voice sounded so hopeful that it nearly broke his heart. His chest began to throb.
“Yes,” he spat out unconvincingly.
She saw right through his claim and recoiled. Subtly, she tried to shift away from him. “You still don’t?” She sounded like she was going to cry.
He now knew what her seduction had been about. She was trying to make him love her. His throat felt clogged. “I love you,” he rasped out. “But I can’t love you like that. God, I’m so sorry…”
She leapt out of bed, pulled on her night gown and left the room, slamming the door behind her. He could hear her footsteps across the apartment. He didn’t realize where she was until there was a pounding. She was at Angelo’s door, knocking to wake him up.
“Angelo?” her tearful voice could be heard clearly. “Angelo, I need a ride home! Angelo!”
Maxwell didn’t get up to stop her, even when Angelo did get up and—probably after seeing tears in her eyes—promised to drive her home. Maxwell listened as they put on their coats and shoes and then he listened to the back door swinging shut and the car’s engine being revved to life.
He listened to it all but didn’t get up. All he could think was: What is wrong with you? Why can’t you justloveher?
~*~
Liz tried not to be devastated. It was her fault, really. She shouldn’t have had such a naïve hope that just having sex with Maxwell would change his opinion of her.
When she got home she went to the bathroom and ran the bath. While waiting for it fill she sat on the edge with one hand in the water, crying. Her shoes were still on and they felt uncomfortable without her stockings, as with her tweed jacket and bare shoulders. She scrunched her toes and looked at herself in the silver taps, her red cheeks and full eyes.
She was all alone now. She would have to get used to it too, because it wasn’t going to change.
The next morning she slept in as long as possible and then got into her uniform and walked to work at the supermarket. It was uneventful but one of the ladies gave her a hard time because she ‘supposedly’ gave the wrong change. That was the least of her problems, Liz couldn’t have cared less.
Late that evening, after a whole day of not hearing from Maxwell (and not being sure if she really did want to hear from him) Liz heard a car pull up outside the house. She had been sitting on the couch reading a book and listening to a record. When she looked up at the clock it was nearing nine.
She took her time getting up when the knock at the door came. She wondered what Maxwell would say to her and how the evening would end and realized she was nervous to see him again.
She took a deep breath before pulling the door open, trying to control her heart beat.
Needless to say, she was very surprised when she discovered it wasn’t Maxwell but some man she’d never met before. He was wearing a grey tweed coat and matching hat. His face was very tanned and wrinkled and his eyes were a crystal blue that disagreed with his age. When he removed his hat his hair was bright white.
“Miss Parker?” he asked. His voice was soft and kind.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Ah, good evening. I’m from your mother’s hospital…my name is Doctor Woodham, may I come in?”
Liz normally would have been hesitant to let a stranger in when she was alone but she instinctively knew he wasn’t a threat. She stepped out of the way and he walked past, removing his jacket as he went. She took it from him and hung it on the coat stand.
“Has something happened to my mother?” she asked straightforwardly. In her desperation, she forgot to ask him if he would like a drink. She wasn’t ignorant; she knew he wouldn’t visit her if he wasn’t bearing bad news.
She braced herself, thinking: I don’t know if I can take another blow today.
He sat on the couch and she on the arm chair to his right. “Something’s happened, yes?”
His brow creased with concern. “I’m afraid so,” he replied.
Liz breathed in deeply and lifted her hand to her forehead. Now balancing the weight of her head on her arm she asked, “What happened?”
The Doctor was obviously having trouble breaking the news to her. How did you tell a nineteen year-old she was now an orphan?
“Your mother took her life,” he said slowly. “I’m so very sorry.”
Liz tried taking deep, slow breaths to control herself but nothing would help how she felt. “How? How did she do it?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant…”
Her tone took on an angry edge. “I think it is.”
Reluctantly, he said, “She suffocated herself with a pillow.”
Liz’s fingers now tapped her forehead, a fast rhythm that showed she was struggling to stay composed. “May I enquire… whose job was it to look after her?”
Doctor Woodham did not reply.
Liz lifted her head and dropped her hand to clutch her knee. “Am I mistaken, or isn’t your hospital supposed to help people? Why wasn’t anyone keeping an eye on her? How could she have been left alone long enough to do that?”
“It takes mere moments for…”
Liz laughed and shook her head. “It was clear she was capable of such a thing. She should not have been left alone.”
“Our staff can not watch every patient, every moment. We have a schedule that includes—”
“Well, Doctor Woodham, perhaps this schedule requires an update, no? You are dealing with the mentally corrupt are you not?” Liz shot to her feet. “If your
schedule worked, my mother wouldn’t be dead now would she?”
“Miss Parker…”
“I must ask you to leave,” Liz said angrily. “Nothing you can say right now will benefit me.”
The doctor slowly rose to his feet. “I’m very sorry Miss Parker.”
“You should be,” she retorted.
~*~
Oh...well that was fun to write. Haha yeah right. My exams are finished and I am free! That's such a nice feeling. I hope you...er...liked the part, even if it was depressing. Thanks everyone for your comments and everything, I love reading them so much
~nicola
Maxwell tried to make Liz see his point of view but she didn’t want to change her mind. She pressed her body into his side and continued to kiss him and move her hands all over him. When she reached under the blanket and grasped his groin through his pyjama bottoms he jumped and forcefully pushed her away.
“Liz,” he said seriously.
“What’s the problem?” she asked. “I don’t understand.”
“You’re upset about your mother and you’re just looking for comfort.”
“All the more reason to do it.”
Maxwell shook his head. “No, you’ll regret it.”
She sighed and the bed shifted as she rolled onto her side so her back was to him. He could hear her fiddling with the pillow case.
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he said. The thought of her being too self-conscious to speak to him again was more then he could handle. “Liz, do you hear me?”
She sighed again.
“Liz…?”
“I hear you!” she cried angrily.
They lay there in silence for a long time and then, after she’d calmed down, Liz asked quietly, “Do you remember how you lost your eye sight?”
Maxwell swallowed. “No. I guess there must have been an explosion of some kind…”
There was silence again. Neither of them could sleep.
“Would you regret it?” she asked finally, moving closer to him. “Don’t you want to do it?”
“Liz, I…”
She kissed him again, slowly and passionately…her lips felt soft and sweet against his. It was gentle persuasion. Her last attempt to offer herself to him. He hadn’t felt that sensation in such a long time...
He could feel his restraint weaning and didn’t know what to do. Surely nothing good could come from this…but when it felt so good it was hard to believe that. Unbelievably, he allowed himself to be convinced and finally put his hands on her, first her arms—rubbing up and down—and then her hips.
“I won’t regret this…” she whispered into his ear and then he felt her tugging her nightgown off.
He could feel her bare breasts pressed against his shirt, they were heavy and round and her nipples were large and hard. He’d always imagined her figure but didn’t know for certain what it would be like. Full thighs, round hips, thin waist, medium height. That was all gathered from the couple of times he’d hugged her. Now he knew the definition of her figure quite clearly and she was a lot smaller than he’d thought. She was straight up and down, so to speak.
She removed his shirt and then pressed her bare chest into his. She was now practically on top of him, with her legs in-between his. Her mouth and hands were very eager and could be quite ferocious and impatient.
He was too aroused now, he couldn’t stop. It had been too long since he’d felt the wonderful burn of flesh on flesh. While his mind was cautious, his body couldn’t be. It seemed to act from its own free-will.
Liz was less experienced then him, he knew she’d certainly be a virgin, but she didn’t act like it. He had a fleeting thought that maybe she had thought about this quite a lot to have the knowledge she did. He found her quite domineering…not in a bad way, not like his wife had been. Being with Liz was very different from being with Josephine. His wife had seemed to find their love making a chore (he now knew why) and had never been fully content in it.
She had been giving, not wanting anything for herself. With Liz it didn’t seem to be about giving and taking, it was just doing. They both touched each other at once—nothing was choreographed like it had seemed with Josephine—they just did what they felt without thinking.
Maxwell ran his hand down the dip of her lower back and then up over the mound of her bottom. That was his favourite part of the women’s body. Liz had a very nice arc that his fingers delighted in. She herself seemed to find delight in touching his shoulders, arms and hands.
When they were both bare and wet in the dark, their breathing becoming harsher with every second—they finally came together. Liz squirmed beneath him at first, unsure how to adjust to the feel of being penetrated. That soon passed and they moved together.
Maxwell had forgotten—or more likely forced himself to forget—how wonderful it was to be so close with another person. Her soft curves pressed into his harder, more masculine body…it was indescribable. The heat in his stomach seemed to spread outwards, enveloping his body in a perfect bubble of desire.
Liz was less certain of herself now that he was inside and over her. Giving his lips a soft, but unsure peck, she was sweet and refreshingly innocent. She shifted her hands, trying to find the perfect place for them.
Maxwell tried to be as accommodating as possible, moving slowly at first and then gradually increasing the pace. His right hand was on her thigh, which was bent outwards to allow him easier access inside her. The other hand was on the slight bend of her waist.
Her quiet gasp when he came almost sounded frightened. His body relaxed with release and he slumped slightly on top of her. Her breathing stopped as if waiting to know what would happen next. He cupped her cheek and gave her a gentle kiss before shifting and lying down on the bed beside her.
Now that it was over, his desire was replaced by a sudden and unavoidable panic. Silently, he began to fret over what he’d just done and how wrong it had been. His feelings were amplified when she curled into his side, burying her face in his neck.
“I love you…” she whispered.
Her fingers spanned his stomach and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. What had he done? What had he done?
He couldn’t say get away with saying nothing, could he? He did love her…but…not in the way she clearly wanted. Maybe it didn’t matter. Maybe any type of love was enough. Maybe his friendly love would be enough…?
After minutes had passed and he hadn’t spoken, she asked hesitantly, “Do you love me?” her voice sounded so hopeful that it nearly broke his heart. His chest began to throb.
“Yes,” he spat out unconvincingly.
She saw right through his claim and recoiled. Subtly, she tried to shift away from him. “You still don’t?” She sounded like she was going to cry.
He now knew what her seduction had been about. She was trying to make him love her. His throat felt clogged. “I love you,” he rasped out. “But I can’t love you like that. God, I’m so sorry…”
She leapt out of bed, pulled on her night gown and left the room, slamming the door behind her. He could hear her footsteps across the apartment. He didn’t realize where she was until there was a pounding. She was at Angelo’s door, knocking to wake him up.
“Angelo?” her tearful voice could be heard clearly. “Angelo, I need a ride home! Angelo!”
Maxwell didn’t get up to stop her, even when Angelo did get up and—probably after seeing tears in her eyes—promised to drive her home. Maxwell listened as they put on their coats and shoes and then he listened to the back door swinging shut and the car’s engine being revved to life.
He listened to it all but didn’t get up. All he could think was: What is wrong with you? Why can’t you justloveher?
~*~
Liz tried not to be devastated. It was her fault, really. She shouldn’t have had such a naïve hope that just having sex with Maxwell would change his opinion of her.
When she got home she went to the bathroom and ran the bath. While waiting for it fill she sat on the edge with one hand in the water, crying. Her shoes were still on and they felt uncomfortable without her stockings, as with her tweed jacket and bare shoulders. She scrunched her toes and looked at herself in the silver taps, her red cheeks and full eyes.
She was all alone now. She would have to get used to it too, because it wasn’t going to change.
The next morning she slept in as long as possible and then got into her uniform and walked to work at the supermarket. It was uneventful but one of the ladies gave her a hard time because she ‘supposedly’ gave the wrong change. That was the least of her problems, Liz couldn’t have cared less.
Late that evening, after a whole day of not hearing from Maxwell (and not being sure if she really did want to hear from him) Liz heard a car pull up outside the house. She had been sitting on the couch reading a book and listening to a record. When she looked up at the clock it was nearing nine.
She took her time getting up when the knock at the door came. She wondered what Maxwell would say to her and how the evening would end and realized she was nervous to see him again.
She took a deep breath before pulling the door open, trying to control her heart beat.
Needless to say, she was very surprised when she discovered it wasn’t Maxwell but some man she’d never met before. He was wearing a grey tweed coat and matching hat. His face was very tanned and wrinkled and his eyes were a crystal blue that disagreed with his age. When he removed his hat his hair was bright white.
“Miss Parker?” he asked. His voice was soft and kind.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“Ah, good evening. I’m from your mother’s hospital…my name is Doctor Woodham, may I come in?”
Liz normally would have been hesitant to let a stranger in when she was alone but she instinctively knew he wasn’t a threat. She stepped out of the way and he walked past, removing his jacket as he went. She took it from him and hung it on the coat stand.
“Has something happened to my mother?” she asked straightforwardly. In her desperation, she forgot to ask him if he would like a drink. She wasn’t ignorant; she knew he wouldn’t visit her if he wasn’t bearing bad news.
She braced herself, thinking: I don’t know if I can take another blow today.
He sat on the couch and she on the arm chair to his right. “Something’s happened, yes?”
His brow creased with concern. “I’m afraid so,” he replied.
Liz breathed in deeply and lifted her hand to her forehead. Now balancing the weight of her head on her arm she asked, “What happened?”
The Doctor was obviously having trouble breaking the news to her. How did you tell a nineteen year-old she was now an orphan?
“Your mother took her life,” he said slowly. “I’m so very sorry.”
Liz tried taking deep, slow breaths to control herself but nothing would help how she felt. “How? How did she do it?”
“I don’t think that’s relevant…”
Her tone took on an angry edge. “I think it is.”
Reluctantly, he said, “She suffocated herself with a pillow.”
Liz’s fingers now tapped her forehead, a fast rhythm that showed she was struggling to stay composed. “May I enquire… whose job was it to look after her?”
Doctor Woodham did not reply.
Liz lifted her head and dropped her hand to clutch her knee. “Am I mistaken, or isn’t your hospital supposed to help people? Why wasn’t anyone keeping an eye on her? How could she have been left alone long enough to do that?”
“It takes mere moments for…”
Liz laughed and shook her head. “It was clear she was capable of such a thing. She should not have been left alone.”
“Our staff can not watch every patient, every moment. We have a schedule that includes—”
“Well, Doctor Woodham, perhaps this schedule requires an update, no? You are dealing with the mentally corrupt are you not?” Liz shot to her feet. “If your
schedule worked, my mother wouldn’t be dead now would she?”
“Miss Parker…”
“I must ask you to leave,” Liz said angrily. “Nothing you can say right now will benefit me.”
The doctor slowly rose to his feet. “I’m very sorry Miss Parker.”
“You should be,” she retorted.
~*~
Oh...well that was fun to write. Haha yeah right. My exams are finished and I am free! That's such a nice feeling. I hope you...er...liked the part, even if it was depressing. Thanks everyone for your comments and everything, I love reading them so much
~nicola
Last edited by nicola on Mon Dec 06, 2004 3:48 pm, edited 4 times in total.
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
...
“Is Liz beautiful?”
Josephine looked up from the magazine she was reading and shifted her elegant spectacles down her nose. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.
Maxwell was sitting at the window (so that he could enjoy the breeze) sipping from his crystal whisky glass.
“I was just wondering,” He said more slowly, “Whether or not you believe Liz to be handsome.”
Josephine took her time answering his question. Finally she said, “Liz is handsome in a way that society over looks. She has a pretty face but because she is not…in fashion her looks are taken for granted, I think. It’s almost as if…she’s not meant for this time.”
Maxwell frowned. “I’m not quite sure what that means.”
Josephine licked her lips. “Yes…I’m not sure I understand either. Why the sudden question? You’ve never shown in interest in knowing what she looks like before.”
Maxwell decided he would tell her all. “I’ve done something that is royally stupid.”
He heard her put down her magazine and sit up. She was now paying him more attention because what he had to say could possibly entertain her more than her reading. Josephine was always looking for ways to be kept amused. “Oh yes?”
“You won’t believe the trouble I have caused.” Suddenly he became more animated, raising his voice and slapping his glass down on the windowsill, “Oh Josephine I am in agony because of what I have done…my Liz, she’s never going to speak to me again!”
Josephine stood and came towards him. Her hand was suddenly on his shoulder. “Maxwell calm down…” she said soothingly. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you believe. Tell me, I will help you solve the problem.”
Maxwell told her all that had happened between he and Liz. He finished with, “I don’t know what I was thinking…”
Josephine shook her head and tutted. “Maxwell you silly man! How can you—with such a clever mind!—be so ignorant? I do not begin to understand it.” She sat on the windowsill in front of him. “I have been so unselfish as to get a divorce for you and now you go and ruin the reason I did it!”
She had said that whole sentence without exhaling once and now paused to catch her breath. “Maxwell you do love Liz. You are madly in love with her but you are forcing yourself not to be. It was clear from the first day you told me about her. Why do you feel you have to ruin every relationship you have?” she took another deep breath. “This is why you are in therapy.”
Maxwell, feeling her words were harsh and unnecessary, retorted with, “I do not believe myself to be in love with her.”
“Why did you sleep with her then?”
“I am uncertain.”
“Well I’m not. It’s because you are repressing your feelings!” she cried. “Maxwell, you must ask her to marry you. It is the only right thing to do. You will realize your love…”
“What if I won’t?” he asked with annoyance. “Why can I not bring myself to kiss her? I don’t want to touch her in a romantic way but I require her as a companion. It wouldn’t be fair to pretend. She deserves someone who…”
“You would appreciate her Maxwell, no one would appreciate her as you do,” Josephine reached across and took his hand. “I will book you some therapy for today. I think this is urgent.”
Maxwell groaned.
“But first you must go and see her. The poor girl’s mother is in a hospital for goodness sake, she does not the stress of this on her small shoulders too. You must ask her to marry you. The longer you do not speak to her, the harder the situation will be to fix.”
“But…”
“Philip,” Josephine said sternly. “Do you want Liz in your life or not? Would you prefer to be alone again?”
“You know I want her in my life.”
“Then go and do something about it!”
Maxwell got in his car. He wasn’t sure asking Liz to marry him was the best solution. However, Josephine had been right about needing to speak to her. So that’s what he’d do.
Unfortunately, when he knocked on her front door there was no answer. Thinking she may just be avoiding him, he walked around the back and tried the door. Locked.
“Oh! I remember you,” came a voice.
Maxwell spun around. “I…pardon?”
“I’m over here.”
He turned his head in the direction of the voice. Curse his blindness!
“You are Liz’s handsome friend. I am Mrs Henderson; we met a few weeks ago? You probably don’t remember, a busy man like yourself.”
Maxwell raked his mind. “Yes I remember. You were the sugar designer?”
“Ah!” she said cheerfully. “You do remember. Well done. I’m just here doing some gardening…”
“That’s nice. Would you be so kind as to tell me where Liz is?” he asked. “She’s not at work is she?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard…?”
“Heard? Heard what?” Maxwell couldn’t help himself. He began to panic.
Mrs Henderson breathed in loudly. “Mrs Parker has most tragically passed away.”
Maxwell’s heart sank. “Oh no…”
“Liz’s grandmother…oh what was her name…? I can’t seem to remember.”
“As I recall, Elaine Hampton.” Maxwell also recalled how much Liz had despaired of her.
“Oh yes! You are right. Well, in any case, Elaine wanted the funeral to take place back home and so she took Liz with her…oh two days ago?”
Maxwell bit his lip. All he could think was, my poor Liz. My poor, poor Liz. “Do you know when we could be expecting her back?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
Maxwell thanked her for her help and then returned to his car. Angelo asked if everything was okay.
“Oh Angelo…I don’t know,” he simply said.
~*~
Though Devon was one of England’s most popular holiday regions, Liz detested it. The beautiful parks and greenery did nothing for her.
The graveyards were the funeral was held were just as ‘nice’, with rolling hills framing the grasslands. It was very extravagant because Elaine liked to believe that their family was upper-middle class when really it wasn’t. Quite a few people came, most of them Liz had never met before in her life, but if her mother had been there (and alive) she’d have been happy with the turn out.
Elaine thought it would be nice if Liz spoke during the ceremony but then changed her mind when she saw what Liz had been thinking of saying. “At a funeral you are supposed to talk only of cheery things,” she claimed while sucking the end of her cigarette. “I’ll say something; I’d probably do it much better.”
Liz shrugged. She didn’t want to say anything any way.
“Now what are we going to do with you? Have you thought much into what you’ll do with your life now? Of course ideally you’d be engaged but…” she shrugged and pressed her lips together. “I was thinking if you continue on at a university for the time being…”
“How would I pay for it?” Liz asked.
“With your father’s money of course.”
Liz swallowed. “I’m not supposed to touch that.”
“Why on earth not?” Elaine said. “You don’t think he’s going to come home too do you? That’ll need to stop right now, Miss. You don’t want to end up like Samantha did.”
It was a relief when Liz was able to be alone and away from her grandmother and her bee-hive hair. Those moments of sanctuary were rare so therefore were cherished greatly. She missed Samantha, even more so because this was the house her mother had grown up in and there were photo’s everywhere.
Liz found some pictures of her mother and father that she had not seen before. She promptly stole them. (With as much cunning as possible because Elaine was like a hawk when it came to her things)
Elaine too was a widower but unlike her daughter she did not mourn Mr. Wallace (Her first husband and Samantha’s father). She had gone on to marry another man—Mr. James Hampton—but he too died after only four short years of marriage.
Elaine claimed that all the women in their family were destined to be autonomous. Her mother, Liz’s great-grandmother, had lost her husband early too. But not by death, he ran off with some other woman.
Liz began to believe in this theme in their family and wondered out loud why she should marry at all if it was just going to end badly.
“Because you have to at least try, Elizabeth,” Elaine said. “Maybe you’ll be the lucky one? Just don’t be afraid of a broken heart—it mends itself just like the rest of your body.”
Liz already had a broken heart but she wouldn’t dare tell Elaine. In fact, Elaine didn’t even ask after Philip even though she had met him under a month ago.
Charlie tried not to think about him but knew he would be worrying about her. The worry like that of a father for his missing daughter. She thought about sending him word but then decided against it.
She had been in Devon a week when a decision was finally made about her future. One evening, while sitting in her dark bedroom looking the pictures of her parents, Elaine walked in and handed her a booklet. It was for an arts school in Paris.
“You will go here?” she said. “I think it would be ideal.”
Liz read through the booklet and gave the school quite a lot of thought. What else was there to do? She didn’t want to be a secretary and there was nothing (except Maxwell) waiting for her back home. Elaine sealed the deal by saying that she would pay the bulk of her schooling if Liz used a little bit of her fathers money for living expenses.
“I think we have done the right thing, you and me,” Elaine said. She was very pleased with herself for coming up with this arrangement. “I think Samantha would be quite satisfied don’t you Elizabeth?”
“Yes Elaine.”
She wished she didn’t have to bring up Samantha in every conversation.
“We will go back to Samantha’s home and gather some of your work so we can send a portfolio with the application. We need to handle the selling of the property in any case. And then when all is sorted there we will travel to Paris personally. Do you think that is a good idea?”
“Yes Elaine.”
Liz lost her frank mouth quite drastically while she stayed with Elaine. It just wasn’t worth speaking back, Elaine was quite good at arguing her point and silence would follow for quite some time until Liz was forced to apologize.
It was nearly three weeks after her mother’s death that Liz finally returned home. Some of the journey was spent on the bus and the last of it on the train. It didn’t occur to her that Maxwell would be waiting for her outside the train station, leaning against his car with Angelo.
Liz saw them and averted her gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. She would be lying if she didn’t say that her heart missed a beat. A reoccurring fantasy of hers was that Maxwell, in her absence, had become madly in love with her and as soon as he was with her again would beg her to marry him.
“Don’t you know that man?” Elaine asked when she spotted Maxwell.” One of them is staring right at us. Would you like to go and say hello?”
She didn’t get a chance to decide; Elaine took her arm and led her directly towards them.
How embarrassing would this be, Liz wondered? The red cheeks and nervous silence kind or the ‘I’ll never be able to share the same room with you ever again’ kind of embarrassing?
Maxwell greeted Elaine first. “Mrs Hampton,” he said, “How nice to meet you again. I’m Maxwell Evans; we met at Elizabeth’s graduation.”
Liz frowned. He never called her Elizabeth.
“Ah yes,” she nodded. “I remember. How do you do sir?”
“Fine, thank you.”
The two of them continued to make small talk until Maxwell asked where they were going now. He offered them a ride.
“A cab has already arrived for us and no doubt our luggage is already been loaded into the trunk. I must ride with it,” Elaine said, “But perhaps Elizabeth would like to ride with you? Catch up?”
Liz tried to say no with the excuse that Elaine shouldn’t travel alone. However, no one else agreed with her and she was soon in the tension-thick atmosphere of Maxwell’s car.
“So…” she said quietly, “Maxwell…”
“How have you been Liz?”
~*~
hellllllloooooo! I have something very exciting to share with you!
This:
and I have no one to thank but you guys. So Thank you!!!! You have no idea how much it means to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
~nicola
“Is Liz beautiful?”
Josephine looked up from the magazine she was reading and shifted her elegant spectacles down her nose. “I beg your pardon?” she asked.
Maxwell was sitting at the window (so that he could enjoy the breeze) sipping from his crystal whisky glass.
“I was just wondering,” He said more slowly, “Whether or not you believe Liz to be handsome.”
Josephine took her time answering his question. Finally she said, “Liz is handsome in a way that society over looks. She has a pretty face but because she is not…in fashion her looks are taken for granted, I think. It’s almost as if…she’s not meant for this time.”
Maxwell frowned. “I’m not quite sure what that means.”
Josephine licked her lips. “Yes…I’m not sure I understand either. Why the sudden question? You’ve never shown in interest in knowing what she looks like before.”
Maxwell decided he would tell her all. “I’ve done something that is royally stupid.”
He heard her put down her magazine and sit up. She was now paying him more attention because what he had to say could possibly entertain her more than her reading. Josephine was always looking for ways to be kept amused. “Oh yes?”
“You won’t believe the trouble I have caused.” Suddenly he became more animated, raising his voice and slapping his glass down on the windowsill, “Oh Josephine I am in agony because of what I have done…my Liz, she’s never going to speak to me again!”
Josephine stood and came towards him. Her hand was suddenly on his shoulder. “Maxwell calm down…” she said soothingly. “I’m sure it’s not as bad as you believe. Tell me, I will help you solve the problem.”
Maxwell told her all that had happened between he and Liz. He finished with, “I don’t know what I was thinking…”
Josephine shook her head and tutted. “Maxwell you silly man! How can you—with such a clever mind!—be so ignorant? I do not begin to understand it.” She sat on the windowsill in front of him. “I have been so unselfish as to get a divorce for you and now you go and ruin the reason I did it!”
She had said that whole sentence without exhaling once and now paused to catch her breath. “Maxwell you do love Liz. You are madly in love with her but you are forcing yourself not to be. It was clear from the first day you told me about her. Why do you feel you have to ruin every relationship you have?” she took another deep breath. “This is why you are in therapy.”
Maxwell, feeling her words were harsh and unnecessary, retorted with, “I do not believe myself to be in love with her.”
“Why did you sleep with her then?”
“I am uncertain.”
“Well I’m not. It’s because you are repressing your feelings!” she cried. “Maxwell, you must ask her to marry you. It is the only right thing to do. You will realize your love…”
“What if I won’t?” he asked with annoyance. “Why can I not bring myself to kiss her? I don’t want to touch her in a romantic way but I require her as a companion. It wouldn’t be fair to pretend. She deserves someone who…”
“You would appreciate her Maxwell, no one would appreciate her as you do,” Josephine reached across and took his hand. “I will book you some therapy for today. I think this is urgent.”
Maxwell groaned.
“But first you must go and see her. The poor girl’s mother is in a hospital for goodness sake, she does not the stress of this on her small shoulders too. You must ask her to marry you. The longer you do not speak to her, the harder the situation will be to fix.”
“But…”
“Philip,” Josephine said sternly. “Do you want Liz in your life or not? Would you prefer to be alone again?”
“You know I want her in my life.”
“Then go and do something about it!”
Maxwell got in his car. He wasn’t sure asking Liz to marry him was the best solution. However, Josephine had been right about needing to speak to her. So that’s what he’d do.
Unfortunately, when he knocked on her front door there was no answer. Thinking she may just be avoiding him, he walked around the back and tried the door. Locked.
“Oh! I remember you,” came a voice.
Maxwell spun around. “I…pardon?”
“I’m over here.”
He turned his head in the direction of the voice. Curse his blindness!
“You are Liz’s handsome friend. I am Mrs Henderson; we met a few weeks ago? You probably don’t remember, a busy man like yourself.”
Maxwell raked his mind. “Yes I remember. You were the sugar designer?”
“Ah!” she said cheerfully. “You do remember. Well done. I’m just here doing some gardening…”
“That’s nice. Would you be so kind as to tell me where Liz is?” he asked. “She’s not at work is she?”
“Oh, you haven’t heard…?”
“Heard? Heard what?” Maxwell couldn’t help himself. He began to panic.
Mrs Henderson breathed in loudly. “Mrs Parker has most tragically passed away.”
Maxwell’s heart sank. “Oh no…”
“Liz’s grandmother…oh what was her name…? I can’t seem to remember.”
“As I recall, Elaine Hampton.” Maxwell also recalled how much Liz had despaired of her.
“Oh yes! You are right. Well, in any case, Elaine wanted the funeral to take place back home and so she took Liz with her…oh two days ago?”
Maxwell bit his lip. All he could think was, my poor Liz. My poor, poor Liz. “Do you know when we could be expecting her back?”
“No, I’m sorry.”
Maxwell thanked her for her help and then returned to his car. Angelo asked if everything was okay.
“Oh Angelo…I don’t know,” he simply said.
~*~
Though Devon was one of England’s most popular holiday regions, Liz detested it. The beautiful parks and greenery did nothing for her.
The graveyards were the funeral was held were just as ‘nice’, with rolling hills framing the grasslands. It was very extravagant because Elaine liked to believe that their family was upper-middle class when really it wasn’t. Quite a few people came, most of them Liz had never met before in her life, but if her mother had been there (and alive) she’d have been happy with the turn out.
Elaine thought it would be nice if Liz spoke during the ceremony but then changed her mind when she saw what Liz had been thinking of saying. “At a funeral you are supposed to talk only of cheery things,” she claimed while sucking the end of her cigarette. “I’ll say something; I’d probably do it much better.”
Liz shrugged. She didn’t want to say anything any way.
“Now what are we going to do with you? Have you thought much into what you’ll do with your life now? Of course ideally you’d be engaged but…” she shrugged and pressed her lips together. “I was thinking if you continue on at a university for the time being…”
“How would I pay for it?” Liz asked.
“With your father’s money of course.”
Liz swallowed. “I’m not supposed to touch that.”
“Why on earth not?” Elaine said. “You don’t think he’s going to come home too do you? That’ll need to stop right now, Miss. You don’t want to end up like Samantha did.”
It was a relief when Liz was able to be alone and away from her grandmother and her bee-hive hair. Those moments of sanctuary were rare so therefore were cherished greatly. She missed Samantha, even more so because this was the house her mother had grown up in and there were photo’s everywhere.
Liz found some pictures of her mother and father that she had not seen before. She promptly stole them. (With as much cunning as possible because Elaine was like a hawk when it came to her things)
Elaine too was a widower but unlike her daughter she did not mourn Mr. Wallace (Her first husband and Samantha’s father). She had gone on to marry another man—Mr. James Hampton—but he too died after only four short years of marriage.
Elaine claimed that all the women in their family were destined to be autonomous. Her mother, Liz’s great-grandmother, had lost her husband early too. But not by death, he ran off with some other woman.
Liz began to believe in this theme in their family and wondered out loud why she should marry at all if it was just going to end badly.
“Because you have to at least try, Elizabeth,” Elaine said. “Maybe you’ll be the lucky one? Just don’t be afraid of a broken heart—it mends itself just like the rest of your body.”
Liz already had a broken heart but she wouldn’t dare tell Elaine. In fact, Elaine didn’t even ask after Philip even though she had met him under a month ago.
Charlie tried not to think about him but knew he would be worrying about her. The worry like that of a father for his missing daughter. She thought about sending him word but then decided against it.
She had been in Devon a week when a decision was finally made about her future. One evening, while sitting in her dark bedroom looking the pictures of her parents, Elaine walked in and handed her a booklet. It was for an arts school in Paris.
“You will go here?” she said. “I think it would be ideal.”
Liz read through the booklet and gave the school quite a lot of thought. What else was there to do? She didn’t want to be a secretary and there was nothing (except Maxwell) waiting for her back home. Elaine sealed the deal by saying that she would pay the bulk of her schooling if Liz used a little bit of her fathers money for living expenses.
“I think we have done the right thing, you and me,” Elaine said. She was very pleased with herself for coming up with this arrangement. “I think Samantha would be quite satisfied don’t you Elizabeth?”
“Yes Elaine.”
She wished she didn’t have to bring up Samantha in every conversation.
“We will go back to Samantha’s home and gather some of your work so we can send a portfolio with the application. We need to handle the selling of the property in any case. And then when all is sorted there we will travel to Paris personally. Do you think that is a good idea?”
“Yes Elaine.”
Liz lost her frank mouth quite drastically while she stayed with Elaine. It just wasn’t worth speaking back, Elaine was quite good at arguing her point and silence would follow for quite some time until Liz was forced to apologize.
It was nearly three weeks after her mother’s death that Liz finally returned home. Some of the journey was spent on the bus and the last of it on the train. It didn’t occur to her that Maxwell would be waiting for her outside the train station, leaning against his car with Angelo.
Liz saw them and averted her gaze, trying to appear nonchalant. She would be lying if she didn’t say that her heart missed a beat. A reoccurring fantasy of hers was that Maxwell, in her absence, had become madly in love with her and as soon as he was with her again would beg her to marry him.
“Don’t you know that man?” Elaine asked when she spotted Maxwell.” One of them is staring right at us. Would you like to go and say hello?”
She didn’t get a chance to decide; Elaine took her arm and led her directly towards them.
How embarrassing would this be, Liz wondered? The red cheeks and nervous silence kind or the ‘I’ll never be able to share the same room with you ever again’ kind of embarrassing?
Maxwell greeted Elaine first. “Mrs Hampton,” he said, “How nice to meet you again. I’m Maxwell Evans; we met at Elizabeth’s graduation.”
Liz frowned. He never called her Elizabeth.
“Ah yes,” she nodded. “I remember. How do you do sir?”
“Fine, thank you.”
The two of them continued to make small talk until Maxwell asked where they were going now. He offered them a ride.
“A cab has already arrived for us and no doubt our luggage is already been loaded into the trunk. I must ride with it,” Elaine said, “But perhaps Elizabeth would like to ride with you? Catch up?”
Liz tried to say no with the excuse that Elaine shouldn’t travel alone. However, no one else agreed with her and she was soon in the tension-thick atmosphere of Maxwell’s car.
“So…” she said quietly, “Maxwell…”
“How have you been Liz?”
~*~
hellllllloooooo! I have something very exciting to share with you!
This:
and I have no one to thank but you guys. So Thank you!!!! You have no idea how much it means to me. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
~nicola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
Maxwell had been communicating regularly with the train station, waiting for them to inform him of one Miss Elizabeth Parker’s return journey. Either that or a ticket purchased by Ms Elaine Hampton.
Finally, two days prior he’d heard they were returning and made sure he was there to wait for them. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say; all he knew was that he had to see her.
The first thing he did was offer his condolences. Liz sat far way away from him on the backseat and he didn’t need to see her to recognise her discomfort.
“I wish you’d told me you were leaving,” he admitted.
“For what purpose?” she asked harshly.
Maxwell swallowed. “Surely you know…Liz, despite what happened I still believe…”
She sighed loudly. “That’s fine. How is your ex-wife?”
Clearly she didn’t want to discuss anything with him. However, because he was older he knew that it was important that they did discuss it. If they ever planned to move past this, like he so desperately wanted, they had to.
“She’s fine. Liz, please…we must at least mention what happened. It’s important so that we can move past it.”
“You’re quoting your psychiatrist aren’t you?” she snorted. “It’s forgotten. No need to mention anymore about it. Anyway, I must tell you, I’m moving to Paris.”
Maxwell felt like he’d been hit in the gut. “You’re what?”
“Elaine is enrolling me in an arts college. It is a perfect idea,” she explained. “Nothing to keep me here anyway. Now that my mother’s gone and well…it’s pretty obvious my father isn’t coming back either…”
Maxwell tried to look past the obvious insult in that statement and focus only on the distress in it. “You’re not alone,” he said, “I’m sorry about your mother…but you have friends here that can help you”—not to mention ME—“whereas in Paris you will be surrounded by strangers. Do you think that will be beneficial?”
“I don’t need anybodies help,” she replied angrily. Maxwell heard the unspoken in that, especially not yours. “I prefer to dedicate myself fully to my painting.”
“That’s a good idea. Why not a closer school?”
“Maxwell you are a smart man, surely you aren’t ignorant of how much better Paris art schools will be? Well is it not better to get the best education possible…?”
Maxwell scratched his forehead. What could he say to make her to stay? She was acting so stubborn…so different from his normal gay Liz.
“We’re here to sell the house and gather a few of my things that I may require…”
“Please stay,” he said quietly while clenching his hands together tightly. “Don’t go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Liz…please don’t go to Paris.” He was willing to beg if he had to. He would do anything to get her to stay. He was filled with such desperation. “Stay here and don’t go to Paris.”
She was silent.
“I truly believe that you will be happier here. In the long run, you will be happier here—I promise you will.”
She still did not say anything.
“And…I want you here. Liz, I need you here. I like having you here. You must stay, I don’t know if I could visit you in Paris.”
A long moment passed before finally she asked, “Stay here and do what?”
He didn’t know the answer to that.
~*~
Suddenly the car came to a halt. The two of them had been so oblivious of what was going on around them that they hadn’t even realized they had arrived. Liz didn’t move as she waited for Maxwell to reply. There was only one thing she wanted to hear…
It was not a good sign that he had not said it yet.
Minutes passed and with every one she thought, I’m going to leave very soon.
Finally she gave up and with an aching heart opened the car door. She stepped out onto the curb in front of her house and then re-closed the door behind her. It was starting to rain and the little drops of freezing water splattered dark spots on her blouse.
She was just heading across the yard when he suddenly yelled out. “Liz!” he ran to catch up to her.
She turned around—so incredibly hopeful and relieved he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes—and waited to hear what he had to say.
He stopped at least two large paces in front of her. “Marry me would you?” he asked breathlessly.
Her heart sped up.
“Just…marry me, please?”
That was not the most romantic proposal and Liz knew it. She didn’t want to believe it, but there would be no denying. She’d watched enough movies to know that this was not going to be her happily ever after. She also knew...he was acting out of anxiety.
“Do you love me Max?” she asked simply. “Do you love me more than life itself? Do you want to kiss me in the rain? Do you want to make love to me in a warm bed?”
He was silent and she saw in his face that he didn’t. She turned and started walking away. “Oh god!” he cried. “Why can’t I? I want to love you like that so much. I just can’t!”
She gritted her teeth. Just keep walking she thought. But she couldn’t, suddenly she stopped, turned, and marched back. “It’s my age isn’t it?” she demanded. “You see me as a child—don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he said helplessly, stretching his hands out to her. When she didn’t take them he drew his fingers into his palms. “I’m so sorry. Please…can’t we just be friends?”
“Did you imagine you were making love to someone else?”
It was a hard question to ask but somehow she managed it.
“No of course not—”
“Then what’s wrong? You seemed to enjoy it,” she raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to just be your friend. I’m not going to stay here just to be your friend.” She studied his face, drawing in every feature. She knew that if he could see, he would have been doing the same thing. “So…I’m sorry.”
With that she gave him a gentle kiss on the lips and turned, running towards the house. It was now beginning to pour down.
“Can I not speak to you at all?” he yelled.
“Write me if you wish!” she replied, not stopping. “Goodbye Max!”
~*~
Elizabeth packed her Samantha’s teddy bears in a box and took them to the local orphanage. All except one—her mother’s favourite. It was small, brown and simple with a button nose. There were striped patches on its feet and paws and she loved it so much because Mr. Parker had given it to her.
Elizabeth said that she didn’t really care about the rest of her mother’s things but Elaine knew better and decided on what was important and sent them back to Devon. These things included Samantha’s records, photos and heirlooms.
They weren’t quite finished with everything but Elizabeth was in such a hurry to leave that Elaine got her accountant to take care of the rest and they headed for Paris. It was a long train ride because Elizabeth couldn’t stay still; she claimed she was too excited.
Elaine suspected it wasn’t anxiousness and attempted to talk about what had happened with Mr. Evans. Elizabeth did nothing but jump down her throat.
“I had hoped Mr. Evans was there to propose to you. That’s why I allowed you to travel in his car because it seems a fine match. I asked after him while I was in town, seems he could provide for you very well…you two had been close when I was here last. I remember.”
“How would you know if we were a fine match?” Elizabeth spat out. “You didn’t know him. You barely met him. Just because he has money doesn’t mean—”
“There is no need to speak to me like that young lady. I was simply curious.”
“Well stop it,” Elizabeth said. “I am grateful for your help in the last month but I am not about to let you butt into my business. Especially business that is now nothing but ancient history.”
Elaine didn’t attempt to talk about it any further but she was disappointed to rule Mr. Evans out. The responsibility of Elizabeth would have been passed over to him if they’d become engaged, but now it remained Elaine’s. This was an inconvenience to her. Art school was one way to lessen the burden, but it still cost money.
It was raining in Paris when they arrived at the station. Elizabeth’s trunk and Elaine’s luggage was loaded into a taxi and they went to a hotel that they had previously booked.
For the first night Elizabeth went to her room and wouldn’t leave. Elaine tried to coax her out, saying there was so much they could go and see or do. “Tomorrow,” Elizabeth simply yelled. “Tomorrow I’ll follow you around like a good little lap dog.”
Elaine tutted. “I thought we’d managed to loose that attitude in Devon, Elizabeth. Even since going home we’ve been seeing snippets of it. Please let this be a pleasant trip and not a bitter one.”
Elaine had dinner alone in the hotel’s restaurant. Despite the rain Paris was alive and gay, just like she remembered it. She felt young again when she saw the couple’s awkward first dates and the well-mannered serveuse.
Elizabeth was still in her room with the door locked when Elaine went upstairs. She sighed (briefly concerned) and then went to her own room.
~*~
Liz had allowed herself one night of grief for Maxwell and no more. A fresh day—in Paris!—and a fresh life. Her friends had all received goodbye letters so she no longer had reason to think about them either.
Elaine had organised a lunch with one of the art school’s enrolment officers that day. To fill time in the morning they visited museums and art galleries. Liz was in awe of the famous artwork—she wondered how she could possibly call herself an artist when there were so many people with one hundred times more talent than her. She began to be nervous of lunch, but it turned out she had nothing to worry about.
The enrolment officer was not as prim and proper as she’d expected. She wore a brightly coloured blouse and belt with large orange beds. Her hair was ecstatically frizzy.
After one look in Liz’s portfolio she said—with a lot of excitement—“This is exquisite work Miss Parker. Bravo!”
After an assortment of questions she was guaranteed a place in this years courses. Liz barely had time to be relieved; Elaine was enough for the both of them! She said, “I knew you had talent! I just knew it.”
“Oh she has a lot,” the other lady agreed.
Liz was hesitant in her elation. She’d definitely said goodbye to her old life now.
~*~
Ther eyou go, sorry it's short. Thankyou for being so patient!
~nciola
Finally, two days prior he’d heard they were returning and made sure he was there to wait for them. He hadn’t planned what he was going to say; all he knew was that he had to see her.
The first thing he did was offer his condolences. Liz sat far way away from him on the backseat and he didn’t need to see her to recognise her discomfort.
“I wish you’d told me you were leaving,” he admitted.
“For what purpose?” she asked harshly.
Maxwell swallowed. “Surely you know…Liz, despite what happened I still believe…”
She sighed loudly. “That’s fine. How is your ex-wife?”
Clearly she didn’t want to discuss anything with him. However, because he was older he knew that it was important that they did discuss it. If they ever planned to move past this, like he so desperately wanted, they had to.
“She’s fine. Liz, please…we must at least mention what happened. It’s important so that we can move past it.”
“You’re quoting your psychiatrist aren’t you?” she snorted. “It’s forgotten. No need to mention anymore about it. Anyway, I must tell you, I’m moving to Paris.”
Maxwell felt like he’d been hit in the gut. “You’re what?”
“Elaine is enrolling me in an arts college. It is a perfect idea,” she explained. “Nothing to keep me here anyway. Now that my mother’s gone and well…it’s pretty obvious my father isn’t coming back either…”
Maxwell tried to look past the obvious insult in that statement and focus only on the distress in it. “You’re not alone,” he said, “I’m sorry about your mother…but you have friends here that can help you”—not to mention ME—“whereas in Paris you will be surrounded by strangers. Do you think that will be beneficial?”
“I don’t need anybodies help,” she replied angrily. Maxwell heard the unspoken in that, especially not yours. “I prefer to dedicate myself fully to my painting.”
“That’s a good idea. Why not a closer school?”
“Maxwell you are a smart man, surely you aren’t ignorant of how much better Paris art schools will be? Well is it not better to get the best education possible…?”
Maxwell scratched his forehead. What could he say to make her to stay? She was acting so stubborn…so different from his normal gay Liz.
“We’re here to sell the house and gather a few of my things that I may require…”
“Please stay,” he said quietly while clenching his hands together tightly. “Don’t go.”
“Excuse me?”
“Liz…please don’t go to Paris.” He was willing to beg if he had to. He would do anything to get her to stay. He was filled with such desperation. “Stay here and don’t go to Paris.”
She was silent.
“I truly believe that you will be happier here. In the long run, you will be happier here—I promise you will.”
She still did not say anything.
“And…I want you here. Liz, I need you here. I like having you here. You must stay, I don’t know if I could visit you in Paris.”
A long moment passed before finally she asked, “Stay here and do what?”
He didn’t know the answer to that.
~*~
Suddenly the car came to a halt. The two of them had been so oblivious of what was going on around them that they hadn’t even realized they had arrived. Liz didn’t move as she waited for Maxwell to reply. There was only one thing she wanted to hear…
It was not a good sign that he had not said it yet.
Minutes passed and with every one she thought, I’m going to leave very soon.
Finally she gave up and with an aching heart opened the car door. She stepped out onto the curb in front of her house and then re-closed the door behind her. It was starting to rain and the little drops of freezing water splattered dark spots on her blouse.
She was just heading across the yard when he suddenly yelled out. “Liz!” he ran to catch up to her.
She turned around—so incredibly hopeful and relieved he couldn’t see the tears in her eyes—and waited to hear what he had to say.
He stopped at least two large paces in front of her. “Marry me would you?” he asked breathlessly.
Her heart sped up.
“Just…marry me, please?”
That was not the most romantic proposal and Liz knew it. She didn’t want to believe it, but there would be no denying. She’d watched enough movies to know that this was not going to be her happily ever after. She also knew...he was acting out of anxiety.
“Do you love me Max?” she asked simply. “Do you love me more than life itself? Do you want to kiss me in the rain? Do you want to make love to me in a warm bed?”
He was silent and she saw in his face that he didn’t. She turned and started walking away. “Oh god!” he cried. “Why can’t I? I want to love you like that so much. I just can’t!”
She gritted her teeth. Just keep walking she thought. But she couldn’t, suddenly she stopped, turned, and marched back. “It’s my age isn’t it?” she demanded. “You see me as a child—don’t you?”
“I don’t know,” he said helplessly, stretching his hands out to her. When she didn’t take them he drew his fingers into his palms. “I’m so sorry. Please…can’t we just be friends?”
“Did you imagine you were making love to someone else?”
It was a hard question to ask but somehow she managed it.
“No of course not—”
“Then what’s wrong? You seemed to enjoy it,” she raised an eyebrow. “I don’t want to just be your friend. I’m not going to stay here just to be your friend.” She studied his face, drawing in every feature. She knew that if he could see, he would have been doing the same thing. “So…I’m sorry.”
With that she gave him a gentle kiss on the lips and turned, running towards the house. It was now beginning to pour down.
“Can I not speak to you at all?” he yelled.
“Write me if you wish!” she replied, not stopping. “Goodbye Max!”
~*~
Elizabeth packed her Samantha’s teddy bears in a box and took them to the local orphanage. All except one—her mother’s favourite. It was small, brown and simple with a button nose. There were striped patches on its feet and paws and she loved it so much because Mr. Parker had given it to her.
Elizabeth said that she didn’t really care about the rest of her mother’s things but Elaine knew better and decided on what was important and sent them back to Devon. These things included Samantha’s records, photos and heirlooms.
They weren’t quite finished with everything but Elizabeth was in such a hurry to leave that Elaine got her accountant to take care of the rest and they headed for Paris. It was a long train ride because Elizabeth couldn’t stay still; she claimed she was too excited.
Elaine suspected it wasn’t anxiousness and attempted to talk about what had happened with Mr. Evans. Elizabeth did nothing but jump down her throat.
“I had hoped Mr. Evans was there to propose to you. That’s why I allowed you to travel in his car because it seems a fine match. I asked after him while I was in town, seems he could provide for you very well…you two had been close when I was here last. I remember.”
“How would you know if we were a fine match?” Elizabeth spat out. “You didn’t know him. You barely met him. Just because he has money doesn’t mean—”
“There is no need to speak to me like that young lady. I was simply curious.”
“Well stop it,” Elizabeth said. “I am grateful for your help in the last month but I am not about to let you butt into my business. Especially business that is now nothing but ancient history.”
Elaine didn’t attempt to talk about it any further but she was disappointed to rule Mr. Evans out. The responsibility of Elizabeth would have been passed over to him if they’d become engaged, but now it remained Elaine’s. This was an inconvenience to her. Art school was one way to lessen the burden, but it still cost money.
It was raining in Paris when they arrived at the station. Elizabeth’s trunk and Elaine’s luggage was loaded into a taxi and they went to a hotel that they had previously booked.
For the first night Elizabeth went to her room and wouldn’t leave. Elaine tried to coax her out, saying there was so much they could go and see or do. “Tomorrow,” Elizabeth simply yelled. “Tomorrow I’ll follow you around like a good little lap dog.”
Elaine tutted. “I thought we’d managed to loose that attitude in Devon, Elizabeth. Even since going home we’ve been seeing snippets of it. Please let this be a pleasant trip and not a bitter one.”
Elaine had dinner alone in the hotel’s restaurant. Despite the rain Paris was alive and gay, just like she remembered it. She felt young again when she saw the couple’s awkward first dates and the well-mannered serveuse.
Elizabeth was still in her room with the door locked when Elaine went upstairs. She sighed (briefly concerned) and then went to her own room.
~*~
Liz had allowed herself one night of grief for Maxwell and no more. A fresh day—in Paris!—and a fresh life. Her friends had all received goodbye letters so she no longer had reason to think about them either.
Elaine had organised a lunch with one of the art school’s enrolment officers that day. To fill time in the morning they visited museums and art galleries. Liz was in awe of the famous artwork—she wondered how she could possibly call herself an artist when there were so many people with one hundred times more talent than her. She began to be nervous of lunch, but it turned out she had nothing to worry about.
The enrolment officer was not as prim and proper as she’d expected. She wore a brightly coloured blouse and belt with large orange beds. Her hair was ecstatically frizzy.
After one look in Liz’s portfolio she said—with a lot of excitement—“This is exquisite work Miss Parker. Bravo!”
After an assortment of questions she was guaranteed a place in this years courses. Liz barely had time to be relieved; Elaine was enough for the both of them! She said, “I knew you had talent! I just knew it.”
“Oh she has a lot,” the other lady agreed.
Liz was hesitant in her elation. She’d definitely said goodbye to her old life now.
~*~
Ther eyou go, sorry it's short. Thankyou for being so patient!
~nciola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
Book II
Late March 1945
Sergeant Jonathan Parker was surrounded by fire. No matter which way he turned the field was engulfed in a harsh blaze and the sky was alight with a warm grey carpet of smoke. It was devastating for him—everything they’d been building towards, months of work…it had now literally gone up in flames.
He pressed a wet, once blue handkerchief to his mouth and took a deep breath before pulling it away again. What now, he thought?
The relief camp that would soon be black sooty hole had grown in the last week—accommodating more English and Greek everyday. A fresh horde of tents had only this morning been lined systematically down the valley towards the hills. These added to the already present five rows that had been placed there by order of Colonel Raymond Hamilton and Major General Alec Diodorus almost two months before.
A community had been forming. A haven for soldiers either preparing to continue on or recovering from having just been.
Parker was one of the latter. He had sustained a gash on his left side three weeks earlier in Athens that almost left him dead and had come to the valley soon afterwards. Once recovered he’d assisted in construction of the area, little things like shower stalls and brick barbecue’s. Eventually he’d moved on and become a part of a team that created paths and—when needed—bridges through the forestry surrounding them.
It was important that they knew the area before the Germans and Italians did—there would be no doubt that their hide out would be found eventually but they planned to be ready first.
In one attempt to keep the area secured sentry posts had been set up in the hills. The positions were all named after the soldiers’ wives and men sometimes stayed there for days, just watching with their guns ready.
Parker had been allocated to the post known as ‘Catherine’ the day before and with his assigned partner Captain Evans set off on a muggy afternoon. It was June and seemed to always be hot so he walked with a flask of water in his hand. He was sweating under his thick English uniform and his feet felt soggy in his boots.
Evans was quiet but Parker had heard previously that he was alert and a good man to have watching his back. He hoped he could get him to liven up a wee bit though… two days in the woods would be extremely dull if there wasn’t flowing conversation to entertain him.
“Where are you from?” he attempted to halt the silence.
“I’m from Gloucester,” Evans replied. He was well spoken and obviously from an upper class family. “I’ve lived there my whole life, even now with my wife. And you, where are you from?”
Parker was surprised. “The same place actually…” he whistled. “Man it’s a small world. Not originally but I have a home there with my family too. What do you do for a living?”
“I was getting into politics before the war.”
“Oh yeah?” Parker nodded. “I’m in carpentry. I can’t wait to get back…I have a daughter waiting for me and my wife…here’s a picture.” Parker pulled out a wrinkled black and white photo of a beautiful woman with curly hair and sharp eyes and cheek bones. She was elegantly presented and held a small baby covered with white lace in her arms. “That’s my daughter she’s holding. She got my blonde hair...”
“They’re both very handsome,” Evans said and handed the snapshot back. Up ahead the path suddenly climbed at a sharp angle and the two men ceased talking as they scrambled up. It was so quiet that only their footsteps on the dry dirt and their panting could be heard. Parker found it a little unnerving.
They chatted again when the earth flattened out. “My daughter would be about seventeen now. Last I saw her she was fourteen—I got home on furlough for a couple of weeks back in Jan 42’. When was the last time you were back?”
“Last year,” Evans replied. “In March.”
When they reached Catherine two men were waiting for them. “Thank God,” one—known as Eden—said. “I was about to kill this son of a bitch with my sleeping bag. Three days we’ve been up here and haven’t seen a soul! I can’t wait to shit behind a door instead of a tree.”
Parker laughed. “Which tree? I don’t want to go trudging on any of your leftovers in the middle of the night.”
“Stay away from the whole area over there,” the other guy instructed with a wave of his hand. “Just to be safe.”
Evans and Parker set down their things in the same place the other two men had been. It had an amazing view that overlooked the whole clearing and they could see people milling about.
“We’re lucky,” Evans said. “I was stationed at Georgina a few days ago and we didn’t have any water supply like we do here. Look, see—a creek.”
It was only a small trickle really. It came down the side of a green slime covered rocky slope and continued down to medium-sized pond on the flat.
The forestry around them was dehydrated but it was still striking. Everything about Greece was beautiful in Parker’s opinion. When there wasn’t a war on he’d have to bring his wife and daughter back to see, they’d surely love it as much as he did.
The sky was always blue with barely any clouds and the air was so much fresher than it was back in England.
In fact, the air reminded him of a time he’d visited the French countryside with his wife when they were still newly weds. She’d walked up to him with her blouse in her hand and he remembered her looking freshly bathed and breathlessly lovely. “Smell this,” she’d said with a smile. Her face glowed even more then usual because she was pregnant with their daughter. “It’s sunshine.”
“It’s nice,” he smiled back.
“It’s been hanging on the line all morning,” she said. “I just love that sweet smell. Can’t get that back home.”
“No you can’t.”
Parker blinked away his thoughts and looked at Evans as he wet his hands in the trickle and then ran them through his dark brown hair. Evans was a good looking man and so gentle in his manner. His brown hands and tanned cheeks almost made him appear native to this land but Parker knew better because he himself was very tanned and his blonde hair had almost turned white under the boiling sun.
Evans came back over and sat down on a fallen tree stump near by. Parker watched as he pulled out an apple from his bag and started to cut pieces off his expensive-looking pocket knife with gold lining.
“You aren’t meant to be a soldier,” he thought out loud. “You seem like someone I’d want to run the country, not fight for it.”
Evans looked up and smiled. “I don’t really have much choice though do I?”
He had white teeth that weren’t impeccably straight but close enough. Nice teeth for a Pom anyway. He had a square jaw and dark, watchful eyes. They were so alert Parker was sure he wouldn’t miss a thing and he felt comforted by that.
His smile was so friendly. Surely this man could never kill anyone?! “This war will be over very soon,” Parker said, “And then I expect to see you replacing Churchill one day, alright?”
Evans laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
It had been that night when the camp was discovered. Evans was peering through his binoculars when he saw the bomb go firing through the air, landing directly on the camp with a crash. Parker had been resting his eyes but awoke with a start when he heard the explosion.
Evans was up in a second. “Fuck,” he said.
Parker remembered him saying that and thinking it sounded so wrong. He was sure it was the first time in Evans’ life that he’d cursed.
“Where’d that come from?” Parker demanded frantically.
Evans pointed instantly, proving he was as alert as he seemed. “From Katherine! Oh hell, we’ve got to get down there.”
Before Parker could yell at him not to be stupid Evans grabbed his bag and went sprinting off down the track, almost skidding onto his ass.
~*~
Paris 1949
Elaine bought Liz a new hat and a new skirt and then she went back to Devon. Liz wasn’t sad to see her go; in fact she was quite relieved. It didn’t take a genius to see that Elaine was happy to be parted from her as well.
There was only one day left until she started at the school and she spent it walking around the streets and admiring herself in the glass reflection of shop windows. She hadn’t been given something so new and…in fashion in what seemed like forever.
She felt gorgeous.
Her father had liked to buy her things when he was home. On the few times he’d be on furlough he’d always bring her something from wherever he was stationed. Sometimes it was small like a bag of candy—a brand she later found in a marché and bought all they had left—or sometimes it was a dress.
She’d learnt some French in school but not nearly enough. At first she found it very difficult to ask for something or get directions. The only two words she seemed to be able to say correctly were Oui and Merci and she got very tired of using them.
She was sharing a dorm with a dull girl called Isabella but tried not to be discouraged. Just because Isabella didn’t like anything except reading and seemed incapable of social interaction, that didn’t mean everyone else was the same.
She was right. Back home Liz had had trouble making friends because everyone was so conventional and wouldn’t even think of stepping out of the box they lived in. She threatened what they saw as correct and so they’d steered clear.
In Paris, particularly in her arts class, seventy-percent of the people were eccentric in one way or another. She fitted right in and met the most wonderful people. People she’d never forget in her whole life.
Soon she barely had time to think about Maxwell Evans and how he’d rejected her. However, she’d always have a place in her heart for him…even if it was getting smaller everyday.
~*~
Maxwell increased his therapy sessions. He truly believed there was something wrong with him now and he could never live his life until he fixed it. Josephine was so sad to hear Liz had left and couldn’t help but let him know it.
“Maybe you should go there,” she said, “Surprise her. Tell her…”
“Tell her what?” Maxwell sighed and rubbed his forehead. “There is nothing left to say. I wonder how she could…” he breathed in, “Never mind.”
“No…no, what?” Josephine asked and quickly came to his side. “What were you going to say?”
“I wonder how she could love me anyway,” Maxwell finished reluctantly. “She must be even more insane than I am.”
Josephine was quiet for a moment and then she leaned forward so her forehead was on his shoulder. “Max, please don’t say such a thing. You’re very easy to love. You’re so sweet and kind and generous. There aren’t many out there that are as loyal and benevolent as you are.” She reached out and took his hands in hers. “I can’t help but think this attitude you’ve gained is partly my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Maxwell closed his eyes. “It’s my fault. I don’t feel like a whole person anymore.”
“Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean you’re not a whole person.”
Maxwell wasn’t convinced; he just drew in a deep breath and stood up. “I’m going to the factory. I’ll see you later, give Hannah my love.”
Maxwell walked through the factory numbly, wondering what he could do to make himself see the point in living again. No matter how optimistic he tried to be he couldn’t help thinking there was a never ending void stretched out in front of him.
Dr. Spears had no immediate solutions, which was Maxwell wanted. He didn’t want to ‘work on feeling better’ he just wanted to be fixed straight away.
“Why don’t you try getting in touch with some old, male friends?” Dr. Spears suggested. “Go to a pub, a horse race. You should be focusing on moving forward rather than clinging to the past Max. There’s a whole world at your finger tips, think about it: You’re a wealthy, now single; relatively young man and you’ve got nothing stopping you from doing what you want. ”
“What about the factory?”
“Hire a couple of managers and for goodness sake—go and see your mother!”
Maxwell couldn’t help himself. When he saw Liz’s house listed in the news paper for sale, he bought it. He thought that…maybe one day she’d come back and want the home she’d shared with her two dead parents and he didn’t want her to have trouble trying to get it. Now he could just give it to her.
He had to believe that she’d come back sometime.
And maybe…he’d be whole again by then and be able to give her what she wanted.
~*~
I hope you guys weren't bored during this. Sometimes I don't feel like I can write something that isn't Max and Liz without everyone falling asleep. Hopefully it wasn't too dull!
Sorry it took so long, thanks for everything,
~nicola
Late March 1945
Sergeant Jonathan Parker was surrounded by fire. No matter which way he turned the field was engulfed in a harsh blaze and the sky was alight with a warm grey carpet of smoke. It was devastating for him—everything they’d been building towards, months of work…it had now literally gone up in flames.
He pressed a wet, once blue handkerchief to his mouth and took a deep breath before pulling it away again. What now, he thought?
The relief camp that would soon be black sooty hole had grown in the last week—accommodating more English and Greek everyday. A fresh horde of tents had only this morning been lined systematically down the valley towards the hills. These added to the already present five rows that had been placed there by order of Colonel Raymond Hamilton and Major General Alec Diodorus almost two months before.
A community had been forming. A haven for soldiers either preparing to continue on or recovering from having just been.
Parker was one of the latter. He had sustained a gash on his left side three weeks earlier in Athens that almost left him dead and had come to the valley soon afterwards. Once recovered he’d assisted in construction of the area, little things like shower stalls and brick barbecue’s. Eventually he’d moved on and become a part of a team that created paths and—when needed—bridges through the forestry surrounding them.
It was important that they knew the area before the Germans and Italians did—there would be no doubt that their hide out would be found eventually but they planned to be ready first.
In one attempt to keep the area secured sentry posts had been set up in the hills. The positions were all named after the soldiers’ wives and men sometimes stayed there for days, just watching with their guns ready.
Parker had been allocated to the post known as ‘Catherine’ the day before and with his assigned partner Captain Evans set off on a muggy afternoon. It was June and seemed to always be hot so he walked with a flask of water in his hand. He was sweating under his thick English uniform and his feet felt soggy in his boots.
Evans was quiet but Parker had heard previously that he was alert and a good man to have watching his back. He hoped he could get him to liven up a wee bit though… two days in the woods would be extremely dull if there wasn’t flowing conversation to entertain him.
“Where are you from?” he attempted to halt the silence.
“I’m from Gloucester,” Evans replied. He was well spoken and obviously from an upper class family. “I’ve lived there my whole life, even now with my wife. And you, where are you from?”
Parker was surprised. “The same place actually…” he whistled. “Man it’s a small world. Not originally but I have a home there with my family too. What do you do for a living?”
“I was getting into politics before the war.”
“Oh yeah?” Parker nodded. “I’m in carpentry. I can’t wait to get back…I have a daughter waiting for me and my wife…here’s a picture.” Parker pulled out a wrinkled black and white photo of a beautiful woman with curly hair and sharp eyes and cheek bones. She was elegantly presented and held a small baby covered with white lace in her arms. “That’s my daughter she’s holding. She got my blonde hair...”
“They’re both very handsome,” Evans said and handed the snapshot back. Up ahead the path suddenly climbed at a sharp angle and the two men ceased talking as they scrambled up. It was so quiet that only their footsteps on the dry dirt and their panting could be heard. Parker found it a little unnerving.
They chatted again when the earth flattened out. “My daughter would be about seventeen now. Last I saw her she was fourteen—I got home on furlough for a couple of weeks back in Jan 42’. When was the last time you were back?”
“Last year,” Evans replied. “In March.”
When they reached Catherine two men were waiting for them. “Thank God,” one—known as Eden—said. “I was about to kill this son of a bitch with my sleeping bag. Three days we’ve been up here and haven’t seen a soul! I can’t wait to shit behind a door instead of a tree.”
Parker laughed. “Which tree? I don’t want to go trudging on any of your leftovers in the middle of the night.”
“Stay away from the whole area over there,” the other guy instructed with a wave of his hand. “Just to be safe.”
Evans and Parker set down their things in the same place the other two men had been. It had an amazing view that overlooked the whole clearing and they could see people milling about.
“We’re lucky,” Evans said. “I was stationed at Georgina a few days ago and we didn’t have any water supply like we do here. Look, see—a creek.”
It was only a small trickle really. It came down the side of a green slime covered rocky slope and continued down to medium-sized pond on the flat.
The forestry around them was dehydrated but it was still striking. Everything about Greece was beautiful in Parker’s opinion. When there wasn’t a war on he’d have to bring his wife and daughter back to see, they’d surely love it as much as he did.
The sky was always blue with barely any clouds and the air was so much fresher than it was back in England.
In fact, the air reminded him of a time he’d visited the French countryside with his wife when they were still newly weds. She’d walked up to him with her blouse in her hand and he remembered her looking freshly bathed and breathlessly lovely. “Smell this,” she’d said with a smile. Her face glowed even more then usual because she was pregnant with their daughter. “It’s sunshine.”
“It’s nice,” he smiled back.
“It’s been hanging on the line all morning,” she said. “I just love that sweet smell. Can’t get that back home.”
“No you can’t.”
Parker blinked away his thoughts and looked at Evans as he wet his hands in the trickle and then ran them through his dark brown hair. Evans was a good looking man and so gentle in his manner. His brown hands and tanned cheeks almost made him appear native to this land but Parker knew better because he himself was very tanned and his blonde hair had almost turned white under the boiling sun.
Evans came back over and sat down on a fallen tree stump near by. Parker watched as he pulled out an apple from his bag and started to cut pieces off his expensive-looking pocket knife with gold lining.
“You aren’t meant to be a soldier,” he thought out loud. “You seem like someone I’d want to run the country, not fight for it.”
Evans looked up and smiled. “I don’t really have much choice though do I?”
He had white teeth that weren’t impeccably straight but close enough. Nice teeth for a Pom anyway. He had a square jaw and dark, watchful eyes. They were so alert Parker was sure he wouldn’t miss a thing and he felt comforted by that.
His smile was so friendly. Surely this man could never kill anyone?! “This war will be over very soon,” Parker said, “And then I expect to see you replacing Churchill one day, alright?”
Evans laughed. “I’ll do my best.”
It had been that night when the camp was discovered. Evans was peering through his binoculars when he saw the bomb go firing through the air, landing directly on the camp with a crash. Parker had been resting his eyes but awoke with a start when he heard the explosion.
Evans was up in a second. “Fuck,” he said.
Parker remembered him saying that and thinking it sounded so wrong. He was sure it was the first time in Evans’ life that he’d cursed.
“Where’d that come from?” Parker demanded frantically.
Evans pointed instantly, proving he was as alert as he seemed. “From Katherine! Oh hell, we’ve got to get down there.”
Before Parker could yell at him not to be stupid Evans grabbed his bag and went sprinting off down the track, almost skidding onto his ass.
~*~
Paris 1949
Elaine bought Liz a new hat and a new skirt and then she went back to Devon. Liz wasn’t sad to see her go; in fact she was quite relieved. It didn’t take a genius to see that Elaine was happy to be parted from her as well.
There was only one day left until she started at the school and she spent it walking around the streets and admiring herself in the glass reflection of shop windows. She hadn’t been given something so new and…in fashion in what seemed like forever.
She felt gorgeous.
Her father had liked to buy her things when he was home. On the few times he’d be on furlough he’d always bring her something from wherever he was stationed. Sometimes it was small like a bag of candy—a brand she later found in a marché and bought all they had left—or sometimes it was a dress.
She’d learnt some French in school but not nearly enough. At first she found it very difficult to ask for something or get directions. The only two words she seemed to be able to say correctly were Oui and Merci and she got very tired of using them.
She was sharing a dorm with a dull girl called Isabella but tried not to be discouraged. Just because Isabella didn’t like anything except reading and seemed incapable of social interaction, that didn’t mean everyone else was the same.
She was right. Back home Liz had had trouble making friends because everyone was so conventional and wouldn’t even think of stepping out of the box they lived in. She threatened what they saw as correct and so they’d steered clear.
In Paris, particularly in her arts class, seventy-percent of the people were eccentric in one way or another. She fitted right in and met the most wonderful people. People she’d never forget in her whole life.
Soon she barely had time to think about Maxwell Evans and how he’d rejected her. However, she’d always have a place in her heart for him…even if it was getting smaller everyday.
~*~
Maxwell increased his therapy sessions. He truly believed there was something wrong with him now and he could never live his life until he fixed it. Josephine was so sad to hear Liz had left and couldn’t help but let him know it.
“Maybe you should go there,” she said, “Surprise her. Tell her…”
“Tell her what?” Maxwell sighed and rubbed his forehead. “There is nothing left to say. I wonder how she could…” he breathed in, “Never mind.”
“No…no, what?” Josephine asked and quickly came to his side. “What were you going to say?”
“I wonder how she could love me anyway,” Maxwell finished reluctantly. “She must be even more insane than I am.”
Josephine was quiet for a moment and then she leaned forward so her forehead was on his shoulder. “Max, please don’t say such a thing. You’re very easy to love. You’re so sweet and kind and generous. There aren’t many out there that are as loyal and benevolent as you are.” She reached out and took his hands in hers. “I can’t help but think this attitude you’ve gained is partly my fault.”
“No, it’s not,” Maxwell closed his eyes. “It’s my fault. I don’t feel like a whole person anymore.”
“Just because you can’t see doesn’t mean you’re not a whole person.”
Maxwell wasn’t convinced; he just drew in a deep breath and stood up. “I’m going to the factory. I’ll see you later, give Hannah my love.”
Maxwell walked through the factory numbly, wondering what he could do to make himself see the point in living again. No matter how optimistic he tried to be he couldn’t help thinking there was a never ending void stretched out in front of him.
Dr. Spears had no immediate solutions, which was Maxwell wanted. He didn’t want to ‘work on feeling better’ he just wanted to be fixed straight away.
“Why don’t you try getting in touch with some old, male friends?” Dr. Spears suggested. “Go to a pub, a horse race. You should be focusing on moving forward rather than clinging to the past Max. There’s a whole world at your finger tips, think about it: You’re a wealthy, now single; relatively young man and you’ve got nothing stopping you from doing what you want. ”
“What about the factory?”
“Hire a couple of managers and for goodness sake—go and see your mother!”
Maxwell couldn’t help himself. When he saw Liz’s house listed in the news paper for sale, he bought it. He thought that…maybe one day she’d come back and want the home she’d shared with her two dead parents and he didn’t want her to have trouble trying to get it. Now he could just give it to her.
He had to believe that she’d come back sometime.
And maybe…he’d be whole again by then and be able to give her what she wanted.
~*~
I hope you guys weren't bored during this. Sometimes I don't feel like I can write something that isn't Max and Liz without everyone falling asleep. Hopefully it wasn't too dull!
Sorry it took so long, thanks for everything,
~nicola
Last edited by nicola on Tue Mar 01, 2005 10:50 pm, edited 1 time in total.
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
March 1945
Parker went darting down the hill after Evans even if he thought it was a supremely dumb idea. He nearly knocked himself out running into tree arms but managed to duck just in time. In the dark it was hard to spot them and he thought it unsafe to use a torch.
He could hear Evans panting and his pack jumping up and down on his back as he ran. “Evans!” he yelled in a whisper. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
It would have been better to stay up in the trees, hidden and shoot at Catherine where the bombs were coming from. Would they be able to cover the distance with their guns, he wondered? He thought that they probably could.
The entrance to the valley was on fire and Parker had to cover his face to run through it. He saw Evans had stopped in his tracks, surveying the damage.
“Oh my God,” he said. “It’s nearly all gone.”
They didn’t know what to do. Go help move the injured, drag moaning bodies out of what was left of the hospital tent?
That would have to wait. Evans and a few other sentries that came sprinting down the hill darted across the valley to wait for the enemy to come down and fight. It was only a matter of time before they did.
Parker realized quite some time ago that he had to think of them as the ‘enemy’. He couldn’t be able to do his duty if it was killing people…
Instead of just standing around in shock, he and whoever was capable started filling buckets with water from the pond and ran them to the people on fire and the tents.
This went on for a while and Parker lost count of how many loads he’d taken when the gun shots started. When he looked up he could see the quick silver flashes of light from the bullets dancing across the night sky like shooting stars.
His gun was resting on his hip ready for when he needed it and he knew that would be soon so he lowered a hand to rest near by.
Suddenly there was a small—but bright—explosion to his right were Evans had been with his group. Enemy soldiers began spilling outwards in all directions and without thinking Evans lifted his .22 and began shooting—pressing the trigger again and again.
He was firing blindly, not sure whether or not he was actually hitting anything other than trees and grass. He decided to try and take cover before he was shot so slowly, and as discreetly as possible, he tiptoed backwards and hid behind one of the barbecues he’d made only days ago.
When he heard them coming and knew he’d be discovered he took a deep breath, thinking this could be it and then sprinted off around the campsite, firing blindly once more. There was an Italian shout and bullets whizzed in his direction but he managed to carry on and take cover with a man he knew, his name was Hammond.
“Fucking fuckers,” he said. “Fucking. Fuckers. What do we do now?”
Parker sucked in a deep breath as he reloaded his gun. “We kill as many of the bastards as possible private. Now carry on.”
Parker ended up where the enemy had just come from and there were wounded, writing soldiers breathing spasmodically into the warm air. He spotted Evans but he wasn’t moving and his face and eyes were bloody so he assumed he was dead.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit…shit…”
When he lifted his head he was suddenly blown of his feet by fire exploding and he landed on one of the wounded men. He felt like vomiting at the feel of their gushing body but he couldn’t move. There was suddenly a searing pain in his side and it was getting worse.
He closed his eyes and pretended he was dead.
While he lay there loosing consciousness he realized even through the screams and crashes coming from all around him, he could still hear the cicadas in the trees and the creaking of the tree limbs.
~*~
November 1949
Angelo steered the car into the Heavens Gate retirement complex and Maxwell managed one long moment within its barriers before he could no longer take it. He muttered, only just loud enough for Angelo to hear him, “I changed my mind. Let’s go.”
The car came to a halt at the entrance. It wasn’t what you’d call a charming place, but it wasn’t so bad. There were green yards and what looked like a rose garden. Everything was well kept and there was a polished gold knocker on the deep mahogany door.
“Maxwell, if you don’t mind…”
“What are you doing Signor Rossi?” Maxwell sat forward in his seat. “I told you I changed my mind. Let’s go.”
Angelo seemed to debate with himself what was more important. Annoying his boss and getting the job done or obeying him and driving away yet again. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything Maxwell growled at him.
“I pay you to drive me Signor Rossi; I don’t pay you to offer advice or anything of the sort. I have changed my mind and I would like to leave now. Please start the car.”
Angelo didn’t start the car, but he didn’t say anything either. Maxwell was changing; it was becoming more obvious every day. Where he used to be pleasant and kind no matter what, now he was becoming bitter and resentful. Angelo felt that he couldn’t help him anymore than anyone else…but he could do this.
Maxwell was too good a man to succumb to gloom.
“Signor Rossi,” Maxwell said more sternly, “I ask you again. Please start the car.”
“Signor…think of you mother—”
Maxwell slapped his palm down on the leather seat. “Do not,” he growled under his breath, “assume to know what is best for anyone in my family. I’m the only one left therefore I am the one that has the authority to make decisions and I have made this one. We are leaving. Start the car Signor Rossi.”
Angelo sighed and reluctantly started the car. He was no longer referred to as Angelo anymore, Signor Rossi and that was all. Maxwell had always been formal, but now he was cold and unfriendly as well.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked sadly.
Maxwell turned his head away and rested his chin in his hand. “I need to go to the Simmons’ residence.”
Angelo bit his lip as he drove through the wrought iron gates. Before Maxwell could solve all the things wrong with himself, the things that were wrong with his mother would kill her. Then what would happen?
He’d have that on his conscience too and that was something you could never forgive yourself for.
~*~
Liz was deliriously happy. She had just sold two paintings. Her first since she’d arrived in Paris.
It had happened when the school set up an exhibition at the end of the year and all of the students chose two pieces of their work to be displayed. Liz’s had been sold in the first day they were up and for a higher price than she’d set them for.
Mrs. Lowe said that hadn’t happened in a couple of years and that she should treat herself to something nice with her money because it was a great feat. Liz decided to take all of her new friends out drinking.
There was a little club in town that she’d spotted while on one of her strolls and she’d been dying to go there. It was called Le petit chat noir and she even bought herself a new outfit to wear. It was black and white striped with a big belt and she felt so French in it.
The club turned out to be very different than what she’d expected. It was dark, loud and rowdy with dancing bodies and young people being young people. It was a foreign concept for her. No one sat up straight and stared down their nose at you. It was about having fun and socializing.
Liz sat with a couple of girls known as Katherine and Nicole, both from her art class. They were older than her by a couple of years but they accepted her as a part of their group straight away.
“I didn’t even sell one of my sketches in my first year,” Nicole said, “and I only sold one this year.”
Katherine nodded. “You’re going to be famous probably and the teachers are going to fawn all over you because of it.”
“Oh I don’t know about that…” Liz said. “Especially the teacher thing, they like everyone mostly.”
“Pfft!” Katherine shook her head. “They definitely do not. I thought you were beyond being modest.”
“Okay,” Liz grinned, “I’m going to be famous….and the teachers are going to fawn over me.”
“Just promise you’ll remember us little people when you make it big.”
Liz looked up and it was then that she first laid her eyes on Franklin Witherspoon, a first year teaching aid at their school. He smiled and held his hand out to her.
“I’m Franklin,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,” Liz replied. “I’m Elizabeth Parker but everyone calls me Liz.”
“I know.”
Franklin was short with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes and a dark brown tan. He was from Boston in the United States of America and his teeth were white and his clothing pristine. Everyone thought he was handsome.
“I came over,” he told her, “to ask if you would dance with me?”
Liz hesitated but Katherine nudged her side. “Alright,” she said, “But only one song.”
“Of course.”
~*~
Sorry guys it's pretty short!!!! I hope you like it anyway and thanks so much for your patience.
Parker went darting down the hill after Evans even if he thought it was a supremely dumb idea. He nearly knocked himself out running into tree arms but managed to duck just in time. In the dark it was hard to spot them and he thought it unsafe to use a torch.
He could hear Evans panting and his pack jumping up and down on his back as he ran. “Evans!” he yelled in a whisper. “You’re going to get yourself killed!”
It would have been better to stay up in the trees, hidden and shoot at Catherine where the bombs were coming from. Would they be able to cover the distance with their guns, he wondered? He thought that they probably could.
The entrance to the valley was on fire and Parker had to cover his face to run through it. He saw Evans had stopped in his tracks, surveying the damage.
“Oh my God,” he said. “It’s nearly all gone.”
They didn’t know what to do. Go help move the injured, drag moaning bodies out of what was left of the hospital tent?
That would have to wait. Evans and a few other sentries that came sprinting down the hill darted across the valley to wait for the enemy to come down and fight. It was only a matter of time before they did.
Parker realized quite some time ago that he had to think of them as the ‘enemy’. He couldn’t be able to do his duty if it was killing people…
Instead of just standing around in shock, he and whoever was capable started filling buckets with water from the pond and ran them to the people on fire and the tents.
This went on for a while and Parker lost count of how many loads he’d taken when the gun shots started. When he looked up he could see the quick silver flashes of light from the bullets dancing across the night sky like shooting stars.
His gun was resting on his hip ready for when he needed it and he knew that would be soon so he lowered a hand to rest near by.
Suddenly there was a small—but bright—explosion to his right were Evans had been with his group. Enemy soldiers began spilling outwards in all directions and without thinking Evans lifted his .22 and began shooting—pressing the trigger again and again.
He was firing blindly, not sure whether or not he was actually hitting anything other than trees and grass. He decided to try and take cover before he was shot so slowly, and as discreetly as possible, he tiptoed backwards and hid behind one of the barbecues he’d made only days ago.
When he heard them coming and knew he’d be discovered he took a deep breath, thinking this could be it and then sprinted off around the campsite, firing blindly once more. There was an Italian shout and bullets whizzed in his direction but he managed to carry on and take cover with a man he knew, his name was Hammond.
“Fucking fuckers,” he said. “Fucking. Fuckers. What do we do now?”
Parker sucked in a deep breath as he reloaded his gun. “We kill as many of the bastards as possible private. Now carry on.”
Parker ended up where the enemy had just come from and there were wounded, writing soldiers breathing spasmodically into the warm air. He spotted Evans but he wasn’t moving and his face and eyes were bloody so he assumed he was dead.
“Shit,” he said. “Shit…shit…”
When he lifted his head he was suddenly blown of his feet by fire exploding and he landed on one of the wounded men. He felt like vomiting at the feel of their gushing body but he couldn’t move. There was suddenly a searing pain in his side and it was getting worse.
He closed his eyes and pretended he was dead.
While he lay there loosing consciousness he realized even through the screams and crashes coming from all around him, he could still hear the cicadas in the trees and the creaking of the tree limbs.
~*~
November 1949
Angelo steered the car into the Heavens Gate retirement complex and Maxwell managed one long moment within its barriers before he could no longer take it. He muttered, only just loud enough for Angelo to hear him, “I changed my mind. Let’s go.”
The car came to a halt at the entrance. It wasn’t what you’d call a charming place, but it wasn’t so bad. There were green yards and what looked like a rose garden. Everything was well kept and there was a polished gold knocker on the deep mahogany door.
“Maxwell, if you don’t mind…”
“What are you doing Signor Rossi?” Maxwell sat forward in his seat. “I told you I changed my mind. Let’s go.”
Angelo seemed to debate with himself what was more important. Annoying his boss and getting the job done or obeying him and driving away yet again. He opened his mouth but before he could say anything Maxwell growled at him.
“I pay you to drive me Signor Rossi; I don’t pay you to offer advice or anything of the sort. I have changed my mind and I would like to leave now. Please start the car.”
Angelo didn’t start the car, but he didn’t say anything either. Maxwell was changing; it was becoming more obvious every day. Where he used to be pleasant and kind no matter what, now he was becoming bitter and resentful. Angelo felt that he couldn’t help him anymore than anyone else…but he could do this.
Maxwell was too good a man to succumb to gloom.
“Signor Rossi,” Maxwell said more sternly, “I ask you again. Please start the car.”
“Signor…think of you mother—”
Maxwell slapped his palm down on the leather seat. “Do not,” he growled under his breath, “assume to know what is best for anyone in my family. I’m the only one left therefore I am the one that has the authority to make decisions and I have made this one. We are leaving. Start the car Signor Rossi.”
Angelo sighed and reluctantly started the car. He was no longer referred to as Angelo anymore, Signor Rossi and that was all. Maxwell had always been formal, but now he was cold and unfriendly as well.
“Where would you like to go?” he asked sadly.
Maxwell turned his head away and rested his chin in his hand. “I need to go to the Simmons’ residence.”
Angelo bit his lip as he drove through the wrought iron gates. Before Maxwell could solve all the things wrong with himself, the things that were wrong with his mother would kill her. Then what would happen?
He’d have that on his conscience too and that was something you could never forgive yourself for.
~*~
Liz was deliriously happy. She had just sold two paintings. Her first since she’d arrived in Paris.
It had happened when the school set up an exhibition at the end of the year and all of the students chose two pieces of their work to be displayed. Liz’s had been sold in the first day they were up and for a higher price than she’d set them for.
Mrs. Lowe said that hadn’t happened in a couple of years and that she should treat herself to something nice with her money because it was a great feat. Liz decided to take all of her new friends out drinking.
There was a little club in town that she’d spotted while on one of her strolls and she’d been dying to go there. It was called Le petit chat noir and she even bought herself a new outfit to wear. It was black and white striped with a big belt and she felt so French in it.
The club turned out to be very different than what she’d expected. It was dark, loud and rowdy with dancing bodies and young people being young people. It was a foreign concept for her. No one sat up straight and stared down their nose at you. It was about having fun and socializing.
Liz sat with a couple of girls known as Katherine and Nicole, both from her art class. They were older than her by a couple of years but they accepted her as a part of their group straight away.
“I didn’t even sell one of my sketches in my first year,” Nicole said, “and I only sold one this year.”
Katherine nodded. “You’re going to be famous probably and the teachers are going to fawn all over you because of it.”
“Oh I don’t know about that…” Liz said. “Especially the teacher thing, they like everyone mostly.”
“Pfft!” Katherine shook her head. “They definitely do not. I thought you were beyond being modest.”
“Okay,” Liz grinned, “I’m going to be famous….and the teachers are going to fawn over me.”
“Just promise you’ll remember us little people when you make it big.”
Liz looked up and it was then that she first laid her eyes on Franklin Witherspoon, a first year teaching aid at their school. He smiled and held his hand out to her.
“I’m Franklin,” he said.
“Nice to meet you,” Liz replied. “I’m Elizabeth Parker but everyone calls me Liz.”
“I know.”
Franklin was short with dark brown hair, dark brown eyes and a dark brown tan. He was from Boston in the United States of America and his teeth were white and his clothing pristine. Everyone thought he was handsome.
“I came over,” he told her, “to ask if you would dance with me?”
Liz hesitated but Katherine nudged her side. “Alright,” she said, “But only one song.”
“Of course.”
~*~
Sorry guys it's pretty short!!!! I hope you like it anyway and thanks so much for your patience.
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
“So…Miss Parker, tell me something about yourself.”
Liz shyly looked at Franklin and then averted her eyes when he caught her staring. “What’s to tell?” she said. “I’m not very interesting. In fact…I’d go as far to say that I’m boring.”
He chuckled. He had a nice deep laugh—a laugh that was very similar to Maxwell’s. Only, she could tell that Franklin laughed a lot more than Maxwell ever had. “Your artwork alone is enough to convince me otherwise. Tell me about your home and your family. What are your brother’s names? What are your sister’s names? Tell me everything that you can think of.”
Liz stepped in a puddle and grimaced as water seeped onto her nylons. “I am an only child,” she said and shook her foot in an attempt to rid some of the damp. “And my father disappeared in the last year of the war. My mother…she…let’s just say…I’m an orphan…”
It was late when they left the Petite Chat Noir but there were still plenty of people around and noise. Liz yawned into her hand and then glanced up at the cloudy black sky.
“It’s a sad but not boring story,” Franklin said. “I lost my father too—in Pearl Harbour. My family wasn’t very keen that I come to Europe so soon after the war but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Art is my passion.”
Franklin was well educated and therefore well spoken. However, Liz could see that he had a child-like quality about him—much like what she possessed. He wore expensive shoes and clothing but when he stood in a puddle he didn’t care, all he did was smile. He wasn’t bothered by small nuisances.
“Do you like it here?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered. “It is Paris after all. How could I not?”
Thoughtfully she added, “But what about home? Do you think about it often?”
Franklin was studying her face. “I’m not as homesick as I thought I would be. But what about you? You’re still new…trust me, it gets easier.”
“I know it will,” Liz said sadly. What did she have to be homesick about anyway? There was nothing left back there. “So when do you go back?”
“Whenever I want,” he said. “Maybe I’ll be here indefinitely. Who knows? Just depends on what happens really.”
They reached her building and stopped at the bottom of the steps. It was a tall brick structure that was just around the corner from the school.
“It was nice to meet you Liz,” Franklin said. “Was it for you too? I won’t embarrass you by asking to call on you sometime if you don’t want me to.”
“Would that be okay?” Liz asked seriously. “What with you being a teacher-aid?”
“I don’t see why not,” he replied with a frown.
“Alright then Franklin,” she said and gave his cheek a quick kiss. “I’d love to come out with you some time. See you later.”
He smiled and she could tell he really was pleased. “See you later Liz.”
He watched her go and then left. Liz was a little nervous about the evening. Despite how she wanted to feel, part of her was still hung up on Maxwell.
The next morning she did a painting of her friends dancing the night before. She put a lot of herself into it, thinking: This is for me. I’m going to keep this one. And she did, she stuck it on her wall in her room. It was a symbol of new life and new friends.
There would be no more painting anything from back home. Nothing good could come from remembering that heart ache. Her poor mother.
~*~
Maxwell was not doing well. He felt as if he had nothing to live for. His money was multiplying every day and as it went up, his mood went down. Evans Fabrics was simply booming but he didn’t care. He couldn’t even summon the strength to be happy for the sake of his poor, deceased father—who would have been absolutely delighted with the success of a company he’d build from the ground up.
Everyday he seemed to be going through the motions. There was nothing to excite him whatsoever. He began drinking heavily again and Josephine was worried frantic.
“What can I do for you?” she said, stroking his arm. “What about we go on holiday? We’ll go somewhere warm where you’d have no choice but to be happy.”
“Why don’t you go on a holiday with Hannah?” he grumbled pulling his arm away from her grasp.
“She’s not driving herself insane with depression, she doesn’t need a holiday.” Josephine huffed. “Perhaps you’d like to go to Paris?”
Maxwell groaned and sunk further into his leather couch. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Maybe you need to see a doctor.”
Maxwell groaned again, this time louder. “Not another one!” he cried. “What a therapist isn’t enough for you?”
“Well Maxwell!” she exclaimed, momentarily shocking him. “I’m sick of this! You have to do something. This moping around—it’s gotten incredibly old. You’re acting like a child. I’m running around in circles trying to help you…” there was a scared desperation in her voice. She really was panicked.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “Are you afraid I’m going to gas myself in one of my many cars?”
“God,” she said. “Of course I am. And oh Christ, you’ve clearly already thought about it…”
Maxwell couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. He didn’t need to see to know the expression of frank horror on her face in that moment. “Trust me, I’m not,” he said. “I promise to stay away from the garage.”
“Oh well that’s a relief,” she said sarcastically. “What, perhaps you have another plan of how to go?”
She was standing in front of him, one hand on her hip, the other clenched on her chest. He reached out and grasped the one on her hip, pulling her down beside him. She rested her head on her shoulder and his arm went around her waist.
“Don’t drive yourself insane,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything foolish.”
“I remember when you used to come home of furlough,” she said, “and we’d sit on the couch like this—tucked into one another. Do you remember?”
“Of course,” he nodded. He knew in those times she’d convinced herself she loved him, often ignoring the nagging feeling that it wasn’t right.
“I’m sorry I hurt you dear Maxwell,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to. If I could have chosen a different way I would have. I tried so hard to want you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I know Josephine. I know.”
“I just can’t stand that this could all be my fault.”
“It’s not,” he said.
Sometimes when he lay in the dark and it was very early in the morning he thought about those moments they’d been together. Every time he remembered he tried to find some hint, a clue that she wasn’t happy. Well, he must be stupid because he could never find one.
“I know you still think about Liz,” Josephine said, stroking his hand. “I know you wanted to love her, I know she made you happy. But how can you love someone else when you can’t love yourself? First learn to love life Maxwell and then maybe it’ll all work out the way you want.”
Maxwell knew she was right. He didn’t want to admit it to himself but it was undeniably true. There was too much wrong with him for there ever be space for deep love.
He decided not to leave the Parker household empty and began interviewing possible renters. He saw no point in it remaining unused when Liz showed no interest in returning anytime soon. It had been nearly a whole year.
It was a Thursday morning when he stood in the lounge room with an agent. A young couple was coming to view the house in ten minutes and they were going over prices.
It wasn’t fun for Maxwell to wander through the house when it was empty. Despite the long time he still felt things were unfinished between him and Liz.
When the couple arrived he was distant as the agent showed them around. He simply trailed behind, thinking: Should I really be doing this? What if…
They were in the kitchen when the young women pointed to the backyard and said, “Oh there’s a man. Is he the gardener?”
The agent was the first to look and told Maxwell the situation. There was a blonde man in his mid-fifties or so sitting underneath the apple tree near the clothes line. Together they went out to enquire who he was and why he was trespassing.
“Excuse me Sir,” Maxwell said, walking directly up to him.
He couldn’t know what the man was wearing but Maxwell instantly noticed he had a slight smell about him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
The man sucked in a deep breath. “Yes. Where is the owner of this house?”
“That would be me.”
There was a thickening pause. “Oh, I see.”
“Maxwell Evans,” Maxwell held his hand out for the stranger to shake.
“Jonathan Parker.”
His hand was rough but warm and Maxwell instantly let go of it and stumbled backwards. “I beg your pardon?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied and then dejectedly stood up. “I’ll be on my way. I’m obviously done here.”
Maxwell was in shock and nearly let the man walk right by him. Quickly he snapped out of it. “Please… who were you looking for? Your name it is Jonathan Parker?”
“Do you know this man?” his agent asked impatiently. The couple were waiting in the house and he saw that they were getting anxious.
“Did you live here once?” Maxwell asked. He didn’t know how he got those words out. He was in shock. How could Liz’s father be alive? Where had he been? “By chance did you have a daughter?”
“A daughter…a wife, yes,” Jonathan answered. “You look familiar to me from somewhere. Do I know you?”
Maxwell frowned. “No, you do not know me but I know of you. Your daughter Liz—”
Jonathan physically recoiled at the mention of his daughter. “You know my daughter? Where is she? Do you know where Samantha is?”
Was it going to be Maxwell’s job to tell Jonathan the fate of his wife? He didn’t want it to be. He shuddered. “Liz is in Paris studying art,” he said.
“If this is necessary perhaps you should go somewhere to talk?” Philip’s agent interfered again. “Mr. Evans the Richardson couple are waiting.”
“Tell them to go home; this house no longer requires a tenant. I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Maxwell turned to him. “Please apologise for me.”
His agent was annoyed. He slapped his leather binder closed and walked towards the house. “I trust I will hear from you?” he asked gruffly. It was obvious what he was thinking: [i\Just because you’re rich doesn’t give you the right to mess people around…[/i]
“Yes,” Maxwell nodded and then turned back to Jonathan. With his hand he motioned him up the pathway. “Mr. Parker…please, come inside.”
~*~
Ahhhh I needed a break from Brooklyn for a while haha. Hope you liked this, I'm trying so hard to get parts out quicker. I'm sure you won't have to wait this long again,
take care,
~nicola
Liz shyly looked at Franklin and then averted her eyes when he caught her staring. “What’s to tell?” she said. “I’m not very interesting. In fact…I’d go as far to say that I’m boring.”
He chuckled. He had a nice deep laugh—a laugh that was very similar to Maxwell’s. Only, she could tell that Franklin laughed a lot more than Maxwell ever had. “Your artwork alone is enough to convince me otherwise. Tell me about your home and your family. What are your brother’s names? What are your sister’s names? Tell me everything that you can think of.”
Liz stepped in a puddle and grimaced as water seeped onto her nylons. “I am an only child,” she said and shook her foot in an attempt to rid some of the damp. “And my father disappeared in the last year of the war. My mother…she…let’s just say…I’m an orphan…”
It was late when they left the Petite Chat Noir but there were still plenty of people around and noise. Liz yawned into her hand and then glanced up at the cloudy black sky.
“It’s a sad but not boring story,” Franklin said. “I lost my father too—in Pearl Harbour. My family wasn’t very keen that I come to Europe so soon after the war but I couldn’t pass up the opportunity. Art is my passion.”
Franklin was well educated and therefore well spoken. However, Liz could see that he had a child-like quality about him—much like what she possessed. He wore expensive shoes and clothing but when he stood in a puddle he didn’t care, all he did was smile. He wasn’t bothered by small nuisances.
“Do you like it here?” she asked.
“Of course,” he answered. “It is Paris after all. How could I not?”
Thoughtfully she added, “But what about home? Do you think about it often?”
Franklin was studying her face. “I’m not as homesick as I thought I would be. But what about you? You’re still new…trust me, it gets easier.”
“I know it will,” Liz said sadly. What did she have to be homesick about anyway? There was nothing left back there. “So when do you go back?”
“Whenever I want,” he said. “Maybe I’ll be here indefinitely. Who knows? Just depends on what happens really.”
They reached her building and stopped at the bottom of the steps. It was a tall brick structure that was just around the corner from the school.
“It was nice to meet you Liz,” Franklin said. “Was it for you too? I won’t embarrass you by asking to call on you sometime if you don’t want me to.”
“Would that be okay?” Liz asked seriously. “What with you being a teacher-aid?”
“I don’t see why not,” he replied with a frown.
“Alright then Franklin,” she said and gave his cheek a quick kiss. “I’d love to come out with you some time. See you later.”
He smiled and she could tell he really was pleased. “See you later Liz.”
He watched her go and then left. Liz was a little nervous about the evening. Despite how she wanted to feel, part of her was still hung up on Maxwell.
The next morning she did a painting of her friends dancing the night before. She put a lot of herself into it, thinking: This is for me. I’m going to keep this one. And she did, she stuck it on her wall in her room. It was a symbol of new life and new friends.
There would be no more painting anything from back home. Nothing good could come from remembering that heart ache. Her poor mother.
~*~
Maxwell was not doing well. He felt as if he had nothing to live for. His money was multiplying every day and as it went up, his mood went down. Evans Fabrics was simply booming but he didn’t care. He couldn’t even summon the strength to be happy for the sake of his poor, deceased father—who would have been absolutely delighted with the success of a company he’d build from the ground up.
Everyday he seemed to be going through the motions. There was nothing to excite him whatsoever. He began drinking heavily again and Josephine was worried frantic.
“What can I do for you?” she said, stroking his arm. “What about we go on holiday? We’ll go somewhere warm where you’d have no choice but to be happy.”
“Why don’t you go on a holiday with Hannah?” he grumbled pulling his arm away from her grasp.
“She’s not driving herself insane with depression, she doesn’t need a holiday.” Josephine huffed. “Perhaps you’d like to go to Paris?”
Maxwell groaned and sunk further into his leather couch. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Maybe you need to see a doctor.”
Maxwell groaned again, this time louder. “Not another one!” he cried. “What a therapist isn’t enough for you?”
“Well Maxwell!” she exclaimed, momentarily shocking him. “I’m sick of this! You have to do something. This moping around—it’s gotten incredibly old. You’re acting like a child. I’m running around in circles trying to help you…” there was a scared desperation in her voice. She really was panicked.
“What are you afraid of?” he asked. “Are you afraid I’m going to gas myself in one of my many cars?”
“God,” she said. “Of course I am. And oh Christ, you’ve clearly already thought about it…”
Maxwell couldn’t help but smile at the thought of her. He didn’t need to see to know the expression of frank horror on her face in that moment. “Trust me, I’m not,” he said. “I promise to stay away from the garage.”
“Oh well that’s a relief,” she said sarcastically. “What, perhaps you have another plan of how to go?”
She was standing in front of him, one hand on her hip, the other clenched on her chest. He reached out and grasped the one on her hip, pulling her down beside him. She rested her head on her shoulder and his arm went around her waist.
“Don’t drive yourself insane,” he said. “I’m not going to do anything foolish.”
“I remember when you used to come home of furlough,” she said, “and we’d sit on the couch like this—tucked into one another. Do you remember?”
“Of course,” he nodded. He knew in those times she’d convinced herself she loved him, often ignoring the nagging feeling that it wasn’t right.
“I’m sorry I hurt you dear Maxwell,” she whispered. “I didn’t want to. If I could have chosen a different way I would have. I tried so hard to want you.”
He kissed the top of her head. “I know Josephine. I know.”
“I just can’t stand that this could all be my fault.”
“It’s not,” he said.
Sometimes when he lay in the dark and it was very early in the morning he thought about those moments they’d been together. Every time he remembered he tried to find some hint, a clue that she wasn’t happy. Well, he must be stupid because he could never find one.
“I know you still think about Liz,” Josephine said, stroking his hand. “I know you wanted to love her, I know she made you happy. But how can you love someone else when you can’t love yourself? First learn to love life Maxwell and then maybe it’ll all work out the way you want.”
Maxwell knew she was right. He didn’t want to admit it to himself but it was undeniably true. There was too much wrong with him for there ever be space for deep love.
He decided not to leave the Parker household empty and began interviewing possible renters. He saw no point in it remaining unused when Liz showed no interest in returning anytime soon. It had been nearly a whole year.
It was a Thursday morning when he stood in the lounge room with an agent. A young couple was coming to view the house in ten minutes and they were going over prices.
It wasn’t fun for Maxwell to wander through the house when it was empty. Despite the long time he still felt things were unfinished between him and Liz.
When the couple arrived he was distant as the agent showed them around. He simply trailed behind, thinking: Should I really be doing this? What if…
They were in the kitchen when the young women pointed to the backyard and said, “Oh there’s a man. Is he the gardener?”
The agent was the first to look and told Maxwell the situation. There was a blonde man in his mid-fifties or so sitting underneath the apple tree near the clothes line. Together they went out to enquire who he was and why he was trespassing.
“Excuse me Sir,” Maxwell said, walking directly up to him.
He couldn’t know what the man was wearing but Maxwell instantly noticed he had a slight smell about him.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
The man sucked in a deep breath. “Yes. Where is the owner of this house?”
“That would be me.”
There was a thickening pause. “Oh, I see.”
“Maxwell Evans,” Maxwell held his hand out for the stranger to shake.
“Jonathan Parker.”
His hand was rough but warm and Maxwell instantly let go of it and stumbled backwards. “I beg your pardon?”
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied and then dejectedly stood up. “I’ll be on my way. I’m obviously done here.”
Maxwell was in shock and nearly let the man walk right by him. Quickly he snapped out of it. “Please… who were you looking for? Your name it is Jonathan Parker?”
“Do you know this man?” his agent asked impatiently. The couple were waiting in the house and he saw that they were getting anxious.
“Did you live here once?” Maxwell asked. He didn’t know how he got those words out. He was in shock. How could Liz’s father be alive? Where had he been? “By chance did you have a daughter?”
“A daughter…a wife, yes,” Jonathan answered. “You look familiar to me from somewhere. Do I know you?”
Maxwell frowned. “No, you do not know me but I know of you. Your daughter Liz—”
Jonathan physically recoiled at the mention of his daughter. “You know my daughter? Where is she? Do you know where Samantha is?”
Was it going to be Maxwell’s job to tell Jonathan the fate of his wife? He didn’t want it to be. He shuddered. “Liz is in Paris studying art,” he said.
“If this is necessary perhaps you should go somewhere to talk?” Philip’s agent interfered again. “Mr. Evans the Richardson couple are waiting.”
“Tell them to go home; this house no longer requires a tenant. I’m sorry for the inconvenience,” Maxwell turned to him. “Please apologise for me.”
His agent was annoyed. He slapped his leather binder closed and walked towards the house. “I trust I will hear from you?” he asked gruffly. It was obvious what he was thinking: [i\Just because you’re rich doesn’t give you the right to mess people around…[/i]
“Yes,” Maxwell nodded and then turned back to Jonathan. With his hand he motioned him up the pathway. “Mr. Parker…please, come inside.”
~*~
Ahhhh I needed a break from Brooklyn for a while haha. Hope you liked this, I'm trying so hard to get parts out quicker. I'm sure you won't have to wait this long again,
take care,
~nicola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
Maxwell couldn’t believe who was sitting in front of him. He didn’t know where to begin or what to say. He wished for a good way to break the news to Jonathan but nothing came to mind. He was tongue tied.
“So,” Jonathan said, seeing that Maxwell didn’t know where to start, “Liz, she’s in Paris?”
Maxwell nodded. “For nearly a year now.”
“And Samantha…” Jonathan urged him on.
Maxwell looped his hands together on his lap and dropped his head. He had some idea of what Jonathan would feel when he told him. He’d come home and to what? A wife in love with a woman, no brothers or father…
“Mr. Parker,” he said kindly. “I hate to be the one to break this to you but I can see no way around it. Last year, Mrs Parker passed away.”
Jonathan sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Of what?”
Maxwell pressed his lips together. “Well…” his hands clenched tighter, “she had a nervous break down…” he breathed in, “And well…after that, she just sort of…” What to say? What to say? “Mr. Parker, she ended her own life while in hospital.”
The room was deadly silent. Maxwell fought the urge to get up and leave Jonathan alone to process the information. Outside he heard a car drive past and then another…
“Oh dear…” Jonathan finally uttered. “I don’t know what to say…I can’t think…do you know why…? No of course not…”
“Liz told me,” Maxwell said, “that she was being pressured into re-marrying and she lost her job. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”
Jonathan was silent again for a long time and then Maxwell thought he heard him whisper, “It’s all my fault…”
“I beg your pardon?” he shifted in his seat. “No, no…I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“It was.”
Jonathan rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. “I wrote her last year telling her I wanted to come home,” he said. “I told her where I’d been.”
That was a surprise. Liz had never mentioned any letter. He wondered whether she’d even known about it herself. She always acted as if her father was dead…they all had.
Maxwell almost felt as if he was listening to something he didn’t deserve to be told. It should be Liz hearing this, not him. Nevertheless, he was intrigued but as he was a gentleman he did not pry for answers.
“I’m sorry,” Jonathan cleared his throat, “how do you know my daughter?”
Maxwell almost didn’t know how to answer that. “We were friends,” he said. “Good friends.”
“Were?”
“She’s in Paris now; we haven’t kept in touch…” Maxwell didn’t want to discuss the events between him and Liz if he didn’t have to. He didn’t want to think about the events if he didn’t have to either.
“Your face is very familiar to me,” Jonathan said. “I’ve seen you before somewhere.”
That was news to Maxwell. When would the surprises stop coming? “I’m sorry; I don’t know whether or not you’re right…I lost my eye sight three years ago.”
“During the war?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes.” Maxwell sighed and unhappily added, “I own Evans Fabrics. I’ve been in the paper…perhaps you’ve seen something there. Other than that I cannot help you.”
They had a strained silence for a moment and then Maxwell asked if he had anywhere to stay. He asked if he needed the house again.
“I don’t have the money to pay you for it,” Jonathan answered. “I don’t have anything.”
“No payment is necessary,” Maxwell assured him without even thinking twice. This man was Liz’s father, how could he deny him anything?
Jonathan was very surprised. “You must have been very good friends with my daughter, Sir!” he chuckled. “I would insist on paying you back. I know nothing of what happened to all of mine and my wife’s assets. I imagine Liz has used them for Paris.”
“It’s likely,” Maxwell said. Slowly he got to his feet and brushed his pants straight. “I do not demand any payment. I’d be happy to let you use it.”
“I am indebted to you.” Jonathan also stood up. He shook Maxwell’s hand roughly. “Thank you for all you’ve done. Including telling me about my wife.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to wash and rest. Do you require anything else?” Maxwell realized there was no food in the house. “Do you have any money?”
“I have a small amount,” Jonathan answered. “You have done enough; I can not ask anything more.”
“I will come by some time in the future. I will find out the address of your daughters school. No doubt you would like to get in touch with her.”
“We’ll see. Thank you again Mr. Evans.”
~*~
Liz was practically famous in amongst the art community. By the end of her first year she’d already gained a grant that meant she could paint all day every day in her own studio. She would soon have her very own art exhibition and there was almost no reason to go to school other than to socialise.
She was now seeing Franklin constantly and things were progressing there too. She feared he was falling in love with her and told him so. She wanted to love him back but didn’t know how. As if it was a strain…nothing was coming naturally.
She liked him a lot and he was there to congratulate her for every little feat. He believed in her more than anyone.
Nevertheless, to her he was more of a best friend than a partner. It wasn’t terrible when he kissed her but there was something so incredibly safe about it. There was nothing stopping their relationship. There was no one to frown or disapprove. Everyone thought they were a wonderful couple.
She hated that. She wanted to do something…not so much wrong and naughty, but daring! She didn’t like this new found fitting in. She missed not belonging.
She missed Maxwell.
To her he’d been perfect. Not the perfect person, no one was perfect—especially him with his awkwardness and complete inability to be silly—but oh she’d loved him! She’d loved him so much and she always would. They’d talked so perfectly together and fitted in a way that no one else would understand.
With Franklin she felt her relationship was as much for everyone else as it was for her. Where was the fun in that?
Liz moved into her studio during the winter and painted all her frustrations. There were days when she didn’t leave the house once. It was her sanctuary with its large Victorian windows and high ceilings. The walls were white and the floor marble.
Surely it would have been classy if someone other than Liz lived there. She was anything but chic. What she needed was Josephine to decorate the place but since she did not have her, it was left bare with nothing but shelves and cupboards for all her canvases, paints and tools.
One day when she could no longer take it, she broke her promise to herself and did a ceiling high painting of Maxwell. She couldn’t stop herself from reliving that part of her life. She already hid it from everyone in Paris; she couldn’t hide it from herself as well. She’d had her heart broken but she still needed to remember.
Painting him filled her with such burning emotion that she was shocked. The feelings were so intense and wonderful that she found herself painting him over and over, countless times. She doodled him on bits of paper and used up pages and pages of her sketch pages.
When she drew him she felt exhilarated and carefree. She forgot about her troubles and her deceased parents.
Before she knew it her whole studio was covered in him. Maxwell in the dark cinema, Maxwell in his car. Maxwell smoking a cigar, Maxwell drinking whisky. Maxwell dancing with his wife. Maxwell, Maxwell, Maxwell.
She tried to hide the paintings but there got to be too many and Franklin found them underneath a sheet when he was visiting her. Liz pretended not to recognise the worry in his voice when he asked who that man was.
“An old friend of mine from back home,” she answered simply.
Franklin’s body tensed. “Well, they’re excellent. As usual. You shouldn’t hide them.”
Liz folded her arms across her paint splattered chest. “Thank you.”
“Why are you hiding them? It’s seems suspicious…Do you have something to tell me?”
“Not suspicious,” she said uninterestedly. She had just had an idea for another painting she could do of Maxwell and itched to create it. She looked at her hands and started to pick the bits of paint off with her nails.
“Okay,” he shrugged. “That’s okay. But don’t feel you have to keep them under here. It’s clearly someone you cared about very much. Have them around if you want. I understand you have a past Liz.”
She forced a smile. “I just didn’t want you to get jealous or get the wrong idea.”
“Me? Jealous!” he laughed. “I’d never. I trust you completely, you know that.”
He gave her a kiss and asked if she still wanted to go to dinner. She told him no and he was disappointed.
“We’ll do whatever you want tomorrow,” she said. “I’m just not feeling in the right mood to go out tonight.”
When he finally left she prepared a canvas that was larger than she was. The whole night was spent listening to records and painting Maxwell walking, Maxwell in his office, Maxwell in front of the fire. Maxwell, Maxwell, Maxwell.
~*~
When Josephine had to go to Paris to promote Evans Fabrics Maxwell gave her strict orders to leave Liz alone. She assured him she wouldn’t say a word to her.
“For goodness sake,” Josephine said. “I’m not brainless. I know it wouldn’t help her to bring up old memories.”
Maxwell was surprised Jonathan wasn’t more willing to go to Paris himself. He had been back in town for nearly two weeks and he was still trapped in that house. Maxwell had gone to visit him several times and it was very hard for him not to ask why. Sometimes he thought being polite really sucked.
How could he not want to go and see his daughter? And where on earth had he been for the last three years?
One afternoon when Maxwell brought him some bread (made especially by his chef) Jonathan was sitting outside with an old man. They invited him to sit down and he did. It turned out the old man was Jonathan’s old work boss. He was trying to return to work as a carpenter.
It sounded like he was succeeding. He’d work on Monday.
Eventually the old man left and Maxwell and Jonathan were left alone.
“I remembered where I’ve met you before,” Jonathan said. He sipped his tea and then put the cup down on the coffee table. “March ’45. It was in Greece. We were sentries together.”
Maxwell barely remembered anything from the last weeks in Greece. The couple of day’s time before he was blind was almost impossible to recall. He suspected he’d deliberately forgotten.
“Do you remember? We were sentries at Catherine. I almost couldn’t believe it when I realized but it was the eyes that gave you away. I remember how you lost your eye sight. I remember it all.”
Maxwell gulped. “You could be thinking of anyone.”
“No, I never forget a face. You were Captain Evans—the quiet guy.”
Maxwell didn’t know what to say. How could that be? All along he’d know Liz’s father? “It’d have to be a very small world,” he said.
“It’s incredible isn’t it?” Jonathan said and lit a cigarette. “You don’t remember much at all? I never thought I’d see you again.”
Slowly it was all coming back to him. The rescue camp and the attack that fateful night…
He stood up and paced back and forth. “This is too strange to imagine. You told me about your daughter…I knew of her before I met her! You showed me a picture of her as a baby!”
Jonathan laughed. “I can see you’re really getting wound up. Don’t think so much into it. We’re both from the same town…it happens.”
Maxwell sat back down. “You have to tell me what happened to you after that. Where did you go?”
Jonathan grew quiet. “I’m not proud of this. I hate to say.”
“Please,” Maxwell pleaded. “I will not judge you.”
“I know you wouldn’t Maxwell, you’re clearly not that kind of man. Do you want some tea?”
“No thank you.”
Jonathan breathed in deeply. “Well I suppose I just have to get it out. I’ve been in Greece this whole time.”
~*~
there you go, just because you all asked so nicely. I hope you liiiiked it. Thanks guys!
~nicola
“So,” Jonathan said, seeing that Maxwell didn’t know where to start, “Liz, she’s in Paris?”
Maxwell nodded. “For nearly a year now.”
“And Samantha…” Jonathan urged him on.
Maxwell looped his hands together on his lap and dropped his head. He had some idea of what Jonathan would feel when he told him. He’d come home and to what? A wife in love with a woman, no brothers or father…
“Mr. Parker,” he said kindly. “I hate to be the one to break this to you but I can see no way around it. Last year, Mrs Parker passed away.”
Jonathan sucked in a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair. “Of what?”
Maxwell pressed his lips together. “Well…” his hands clenched tighter, “she had a nervous break down…” he breathed in, “And well…after that, she just sort of…” What to say? What to say? “Mr. Parker, she ended her own life while in hospital.”
The room was deadly silent. Maxwell fought the urge to get up and leave Jonathan alone to process the information. Outside he heard a car drive past and then another…
“Oh dear…” Jonathan finally uttered. “I don’t know what to say…I can’t think…do you know why…? No of course not…”
“Liz told me,” Maxwell said, “that she was being pressured into re-marrying and she lost her job. That’s all I know, I’m sorry.”
Jonathan was silent again for a long time and then Maxwell thought he heard him whisper, “It’s all my fault…”
“I beg your pardon?” he shifted in his seat. “No, no…I’m sure it wasn’t.”
“It was.”
Jonathan rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes. “I wrote her last year telling her I wanted to come home,” he said. “I told her where I’d been.”
That was a surprise. Liz had never mentioned any letter. He wondered whether she’d even known about it herself. She always acted as if her father was dead…they all had.
Maxwell almost felt as if he was listening to something he didn’t deserve to be told. It should be Liz hearing this, not him. Nevertheless, he was intrigued but as he was a gentleman he did not pry for answers.
“I’m sorry,” Jonathan cleared his throat, “how do you know my daughter?”
Maxwell almost didn’t know how to answer that. “We were friends,” he said. “Good friends.”
“Were?”
“She’s in Paris now; we haven’t kept in touch…” Maxwell didn’t want to discuss the events between him and Liz if he didn’t have to. He didn’t want to think about the events if he didn’t have to either.
“Your face is very familiar to me,” Jonathan said. “I’ve seen you before somewhere.”
That was news to Maxwell. When would the surprises stop coming? “I’m sorry; I don’t know whether or not you’re right…I lost my eye sight three years ago.”
“During the war?” Jonathan asked.
“Yes.” Maxwell sighed and unhappily added, “I own Evans Fabrics. I’ve been in the paper…perhaps you’ve seen something there. Other than that I cannot help you.”
They had a strained silence for a moment and then Maxwell asked if he had anywhere to stay. He asked if he needed the house again.
“I don’t have the money to pay you for it,” Jonathan answered. “I don’t have anything.”
“No payment is necessary,” Maxwell assured him without even thinking twice. This man was Liz’s father, how could he deny him anything?
Jonathan was very surprised. “You must have been very good friends with my daughter, Sir!” he chuckled. “I would insist on paying you back. I know nothing of what happened to all of mine and my wife’s assets. I imagine Liz has used them for Paris.”
“It’s likely,” Maxwell said. Slowly he got to his feet and brushed his pants straight. “I do not demand any payment. I’d be happy to let you use it.”
“I am indebted to you.” Jonathan also stood up. He shook Maxwell’s hand roughly. “Thank you for all you’ve done. Including telling me about my wife.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll leave you to wash and rest. Do you require anything else?” Maxwell realized there was no food in the house. “Do you have any money?”
“I have a small amount,” Jonathan answered. “You have done enough; I can not ask anything more.”
“I will come by some time in the future. I will find out the address of your daughters school. No doubt you would like to get in touch with her.”
“We’ll see. Thank you again Mr. Evans.”
~*~
Liz was practically famous in amongst the art community. By the end of her first year she’d already gained a grant that meant she could paint all day every day in her own studio. She would soon have her very own art exhibition and there was almost no reason to go to school other than to socialise.
She was now seeing Franklin constantly and things were progressing there too. She feared he was falling in love with her and told him so. She wanted to love him back but didn’t know how. As if it was a strain…nothing was coming naturally.
She liked him a lot and he was there to congratulate her for every little feat. He believed in her more than anyone.
Nevertheless, to her he was more of a best friend than a partner. It wasn’t terrible when he kissed her but there was something so incredibly safe about it. There was nothing stopping their relationship. There was no one to frown or disapprove. Everyone thought they were a wonderful couple.
She hated that. She wanted to do something…not so much wrong and naughty, but daring! She didn’t like this new found fitting in. She missed not belonging.
She missed Maxwell.
To her he’d been perfect. Not the perfect person, no one was perfect—especially him with his awkwardness and complete inability to be silly—but oh she’d loved him! She’d loved him so much and she always would. They’d talked so perfectly together and fitted in a way that no one else would understand.
With Franklin she felt her relationship was as much for everyone else as it was for her. Where was the fun in that?
Liz moved into her studio during the winter and painted all her frustrations. There were days when she didn’t leave the house once. It was her sanctuary with its large Victorian windows and high ceilings. The walls were white and the floor marble.
Surely it would have been classy if someone other than Liz lived there. She was anything but chic. What she needed was Josephine to decorate the place but since she did not have her, it was left bare with nothing but shelves and cupboards for all her canvases, paints and tools.
One day when she could no longer take it, she broke her promise to herself and did a ceiling high painting of Maxwell. She couldn’t stop herself from reliving that part of her life. She already hid it from everyone in Paris; she couldn’t hide it from herself as well. She’d had her heart broken but she still needed to remember.
Painting him filled her with such burning emotion that she was shocked. The feelings were so intense and wonderful that she found herself painting him over and over, countless times. She doodled him on bits of paper and used up pages and pages of her sketch pages.
When she drew him she felt exhilarated and carefree. She forgot about her troubles and her deceased parents.
Before she knew it her whole studio was covered in him. Maxwell in the dark cinema, Maxwell in his car. Maxwell smoking a cigar, Maxwell drinking whisky. Maxwell dancing with his wife. Maxwell, Maxwell, Maxwell.
She tried to hide the paintings but there got to be too many and Franklin found them underneath a sheet when he was visiting her. Liz pretended not to recognise the worry in his voice when he asked who that man was.
“An old friend of mine from back home,” she answered simply.
Franklin’s body tensed. “Well, they’re excellent. As usual. You shouldn’t hide them.”
Liz folded her arms across her paint splattered chest. “Thank you.”
“Why are you hiding them? It’s seems suspicious…Do you have something to tell me?”
“Not suspicious,” she said uninterestedly. She had just had an idea for another painting she could do of Maxwell and itched to create it. She looked at her hands and started to pick the bits of paint off with her nails.
“Okay,” he shrugged. “That’s okay. But don’t feel you have to keep them under here. It’s clearly someone you cared about very much. Have them around if you want. I understand you have a past Liz.”
She forced a smile. “I just didn’t want you to get jealous or get the wrong idea.”
“Me? Jealous!” he laughed. “I’d never. I trust you completely, you know that.”
He gave her a kiss and asked if she still wanted to go to dinner. She told him no and he was disappointed.
“We’ll do whatever you want tomorrow,” she said. “I’m just not feeling in the right mood to go out tonight.”
When he finally left she prepared a canvas that was larger than she was. The whole night was spent listening to records and painting Maxwell walking, Maxwell in his office, Maxwell in front of the fire. Maxwell, Maxwell, Maxwell.
~*~
When Josephine had to go to Paris to promote Evans Fabrics Maxwell gave her strict orders to leave Liz alone. She assured him she wouldn’t say a word to her.
“For goodness sake,” Josephine said. “I’m not brainless. I know it wouldn’t help her to bring up old memories.”
Maxwell was surprised Jonathan wasn’t more willing to go to Paris himself. He had been back in town for nearly two weeks and he was still trapped in that house. Maxwell had gone to visit him several times and it was very hard for him not to ask why. Sometimes he thought being polite really sucked.
How could he not want to go and see his daughter? And where on earth had he been for the last three years?
One afternoon when Maxwell brought him some bread (made especially by his chef) Jonathan was sitting outside with an old man. They invited him to sit down and he did. It turned out the old man was Jonathan’s old work boss. He was trying to return to work as a carpenter.
It sounded like he was succeeding. He’d work on Monday.
Eventually the old man left and Maxwell and Jonathan were left alone.
“I remembered where I’ve met you before,” Jonathan said. He sipped his tea and then put the cup down on the coffee table. “March ’45. It was in Greece. We were sentries together.”
Maxwell barely remembered anything from the last weeks in Greece. The couple of day’s time before he was blind was almost impossible to recall. He suspected he’d deliberately forgotten.
“Do you remember? We were sentries at Catherine. I almost couldn’t believe it when I realized but it was the eyes that gave you away. I remember how you lost your eye sight. I remember it all.”
Maxwell gulped. “You could be thinking of anyone.”
“No, I never forget a face. You were Captain Evans—the quiet guy.”
Maxwell didn’t know what to say. How could that be? All along he’d know Liz’s father? “It’d have to be a very small world,” he said.
“It’s incredible isn’t it?” Jonathan said and lit a cigarette. “You don’t remember much at all? I never thought I’d see you again.”
Slowly it was all coming back to him. The rescue camp and the attack that fateful night…
He stood up and paced back and forth. “This is too strange to imagine. You told me about your daughter…I knew of her before I met her! You showed me a picture of her as a baby!”
Jonathan laughed. “I can see you’re really getting wound up. Don’t think so much into it. We’re both from the same town…it happens.”
Maxwell sat back down. “You have to tell me what happened to you after that. Where did you go?”
Jonathan grew quiet. “I’m not proud of this. I hate to say.”
“Please,” Maxwell pleaded. “I will not judge you.”
“I know you wouldn’t Maxwell, you’re clearly not that kind of man. Do you want some tea?”
“No thank you.”
Jonathan breathed in deeply. “Well I suppose I just have to get it out. I’ve been in Greece this whole time.”
~*~
there you go, just because you all asked so nicely. I hope you liiiiked it. Thanks guys!
~nicola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
While in Paris Josephine attended many social functions. It was her job to promote the business and she took it very seriously. Every party was another opportunity to wear a gown made entirely by Evans Fabrics. Another opportunity to say, “Oh my dress? Do you like the fabric? Yes it’s made from…”
So when she received an invitation to an art exhibition she didn’t even look at the name of the artist. Just as Maxwell had requested, she’d intended to stay far away from Liz. It wasn’t her fault that fate intervened.
As soon as she walked in the doorway (fashionably late) and saw a large painting on the wall she knew who was being celebrated. An acquaintance quickly demanded her attention but her thoughts remained on the girl with chocolate brown hair. The girl who had only been in Paris a little over a year and had accomplished all this!
Surely not, Josephine thought. It didn’t seem probable.
“What do you think?” her friend Amanda asked in French. “It’s quite extraordinary isn’t it? The girl excelled in her class and was offered a grant at the end of her first year. That rarely ever happens. She’s one to watch.”
“Amazing,” Josephine said absent-mindedly. The paintings she saw weren’t of back home. They were images of the new life Liz had been leading. At least that’s what she thought…until she rounded a corner and ran smack dab into a ceiling high portrait of a laughing Maxwell. She gasped and stumbled backwards. “Goodness grief!” she cried.
“What ever is the matter?” Amanda asked.
Josephine waved her off. Amanda had never met Maxwell so she knew nothing of what he looked like. If she had, she would surely have noticed him. The resemblance was striking.
“However, there is something wrong with his eyes,” a stranger commented to his friend.
Josephine looked at them. “He’s blind,” she said.
“Oh of course!” he exclaimed. “Extraordinary.”
Josephine stood, transfixed. Liz’s style wasn’t quite realist and it wasn’t quite abstract. It was a perfect in-between. The painting in front of her revealed so much about how Liz had seen Maxwell. The light pink in his cheeks and his tilted, happy face as he laughed. You could see that even when he was happy, he wasn’t entirely happy. The painting screamed love and devotion and…pain.
She could have cried. Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them away. There weren’t many times she’d seen Maxwell cheerful like this and Liz had some how captured it flawlessly. Only someone who adored him as much as she did could have noticed that about him.
“Can we move onto the next one?” Amanda asked. “It’s a shame this one isn’t for sale. By your face I can see how you like it.”
Josephine gulped. “It’s not for sale?”
“No, see it says there…” Amanda pointed to the small typed sign hanging on the wall.
Josephine had seen most of the collection before setting her eyes on Liz. She’d changed a lot since the last time they’d been together. Something in her posture and gestures had matured and her face had lost its innocence and gained experience. She was wearing a pretty yellow and white frock that complimented her hair and complexion beautifully. Her lips were shinning red and if Josephine didn’t have Hannah she would have fallen in love with her.
She was the centre of attention and no one could stop looking at her. Every person wanted to talk to her. She was so busy that she didn’t even notice Josephine.
Josephine saw there was a youthful man that did not stray far from her side. At one point he put his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. She watched as Liz laughed and beamed into his face.
She was an entirely different person from the guileless bubble of energy she’d been back in Gloucester.
~*~
It would have suited Liz just fine to hide in the corner and watch everyone mill around. From there she could have seen their expressions and seen if they truly loved her work.
Her evening was being ruined because she was so self-conscious of the painting of Maxwell. It was as if there was an elephant in the room and it was stopping her from fully enjoying her success. She wanted to cover it up because it felt like a big part of her was being revealed to the world. She kept glancing towards it unconsciously. It never should have been entered as a part of the exhibition but Franklin had insisted.
Liz knew that was his way of dealing with the paintings. He wanted them to be out in the open because then he wouldn’t have to worry as much about her apparent attachment to them. If he continued to think she’d painted them just for herself he’d go insane. Even if his words seemed convincing he wasn’t good at hiding the jealousy in his face.
“You’re going to be so great,” her Grandmother Elaine said. “I’m so proud of you. It was such a good idea to send you here. And your French is perfect.”
Elaine had come to Paris just for the exhibition. She even brought an antique diamond necklace as a gift. Apparently her own grandmother had given it to her when she was younger. When she gave it to Liz she said, “I think you’ve earned this.”
Liz asked why her mother had never gotten it. Elaine didn’t outright answer but Liz suspected it was because Samantha had never done anything extraordinary with her life. Elaine probably wanted to say, “Where would she have worn it? What use is it if it is kept in a jewellery box?”
In that moment Liz missed her mother immensely. She would have loved the necklace and it didn’t seem fair that she’d never gotten it.
“Have some wine,” Franklin suggested. “I can tell you’re tense. You need to relax.”
Liz decided that she did not like alcohol and she’d never drink it again. She shook her head and waved him off. “No, I’m fine.”
The evening lasted for a long time and Liz was glad to go home when she did. Franklin dropped her off and she kissed him goodbye before ambling upstairs. She made herself some tea and sat down by the window with all the lights off, staring at the city. She’d made so many friends and done so much…why did the troubling memory of one man still have to affect her?
Right now she would have given anything just to have him there as a friend.
She sat there for a long time and it was just after she’d changed into her night gown that there was a knock on the door. It was very late and she wondered who it could possibly be.
It was Josephine.
“He told me not to come,” she said before even a hello, “But after tonight I absolutely had to see how you are.”
Liz could have cried. Here was the closest she could have gotten to Maxwell on her doorstep. She gave her a huge hug, burying her face her perfumed hair. When she pulled back she asked breathlessly, “Has something happened?” she held the door open. “Come in! Come in!”
“No!” Josephine laughed. “I am in Paris on business and you won’t believe it but by fluke I ended up at your exhibition!”
“Really? You were there?” Liz was amazed by how relieved she was to see Josephine. “How did I not notice you?”
“I was very inconspicuous. But you won’t believe how hard it was for me to find out where you live. I was going to save my visit for tomorrow but I couldn’t because I leave for home in the evening and I’m booked up completely until then…” Josephine took her first deep breath since she’d walked in the door. “And here I am! Terribly rude and unannounced and I’ve caught you in your nightie.”
“I’m so glad you came,” Liz said while smiling with her whole face. She took Josephine‘s coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Then the two of them walked through to the ‘lounge’. It was really an empty room with a few chairs and couch. A room she never used. “How did you like the exhibition?”
“I adored it as much as everyone else there,” Josephine said. She sat down on the couch and elegantly rested her hands together on her lap. She looked around the empty room. “Have you just moved?”
Liz laughed at herself. “Not really. I’m pathetic, I can’t be bothered doing anything with this place.”
“Do you live by yourself? What about that handsome young man I saw clinging onto your arm all night?”
“No…” Liz shook her head. “I’m on my own here and I like it.”
“You could hire someone to decorate. After the prices I saw on your artwork tonight I know you can afford it,” Josephine said. She then reached out and took Liz’s hands in her own. They were sitting closely on the couch. “How are you, darling girl? Your success astounds me; it’s almost unrealistic how wonderful you’re doing. I always knew you were talented so I can understand why the Parisian’s have just gobbled you right up.”
They both had so much to say that they didn’t know where to begin.
Liz thanked her for her compliments. “It’s just as surprising to me.”
Suddenly she pulled her hand away from Josephine’s and smacked herself lightly on the forehead. “I haven’t offered you a drink.”
“Don’t you dare,” Josephine said. “That wouldn’t be the Liz I know. But then again, you’re not that Liz anymore are you?”
“I’m not,” Liz said devastatingly. “I wish I was.”
“Oh dear,” Josephine shook her head, “Youth and innocence does not last forever.”
“Am I much older?”
Josephine smiled at her panic. “So much it’s amazing. And it’s becoming. You look wonderful and almost sophisticated.”
“No! Not sophisticated!” Liz cried “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Well look at this room, do you think I’m serious?”
They laughed together and then Liz gave her another hug. “I so needed to see you today. You’re a wonderful surprise.”
“So are you. Fate decided we should meet today. Maxwell—” Josephine must have noticed the colour change in Liz’s face. “Told me I was to leave you alone but then somehow I end up at your exhibition. Fate, no?”
“Fate,” Liz nodded distractedly. She was realized she could not show Josephine her studio and all those paintings of him. “Why was Maxwell against you visiting me?”
“Oh he was just worried about me being a nuisance and so on,” Josephine rolled her eyes. “He’s absurd, he really is. Speaking of Maxwell…I saw the painting of him tonight.”
“Oh?” Liz was very embarrassed. She looked away.
“It is beautiful,” Josephine sighed happily at the thought of it. “I was disappointed it wasn’t for sale.”
Liz was barely listening. She couldn’t hold in the question any longer. “How is he?” she asked. Almost pleaded.
Josephine pressed her lips together. “Oh you know…” she said, “He’s the same moody old grump. His blindness just consumes him. He can’t get beyond it.”
“I know,” Liz said. She remembered that about him.
“He misses you a lot,” Josephine said. “We both do. You added a little excitement to our lives.”
Liz smiled. “I don’t believe that.”
“Are you ever going to come home?”
“To what?” she asked quietly.
“I know it must feel that way but there are a lot of people who would like to see you.”
A couple of hours past before they both realized it was deep in the morning. When it was time for Josephine to leave Liz was sad. She wanted to give her something to take with her so she rushed into her studio. She came back with a small painting of Maxwell smoking a cigar.
“Have this,” she said.
“Oh it’s beautiful!” Josephine cried. “I love it. How much do you want for it?”
“Nothing of course.”
Liz refused to let Josephine pay for any of her work. She hugged her goodbye and told her they should keep in touch.
“We definitely should,” Josephine agreed.
Liz eventually made her way to bed after closing the door. She curled up on her side and stared at the wall.
~*~
Look! I updated within a month! Wow! I've actually had this written for a week but I never got around to posting it lol. I hope you enjoyed reading it,
take care,
~nicola
So when she received an invitation to an art exhibition she didn’t even look at the name of the artist. Just as Maxwell had requested, she’d intended to stay far away from Liz. It wasn’t her fault that fate intervened.
As soon as she walked in the doorway (fashionably late) and saw a large painting on the wall she knew who was being celebrated. An acquaintance quickly demanded her attention but her thoughts remained on the girl with chocolate brown hair. The girl who had only been in Paris a little over a year and had accomplished all this!
Surely not, Josephine thought. It didn’t seem probable.
“What do you think?” her friend Amanda asked in French. “It’s quite extraordinary isn’t it? The girl excelled in her class and was offered a grant at the end of her first year. That rarely ever happens. She’s one to watch.”
“Amazing,” Josephine said absent-mindedly. The paintings she saw weren’t of back home. They were images of the new life Liz had been leading. At least that’s what she thought…until she rounded a corner and ran smack dab into a ceiling high portrait of a laughing Maxwell. She gasped and stumbled backwards. “Goodness grief!” she cried.
“What ever is the matter?” Amanda asked.
Josephine waved her off. Amanda had never met Maxwell so she knew nothing of what he looked like. If she had, she would surely have noticed him. The resemblance was striking.
“However, there is something wrong with his eyes,” a stranger commented to his friend.
Josephine looked at them. “He’s blind,” she said.
“Oh of course!” he exclaimed. “Extraordinary.”
Josephine stood, transfixed. Liz’s style wasn’t quite realist and it wasn’t quite abstract. It was a perfect in-between. The painting in front of her revealed so much about how Liz had seen Maxwell. The light pink in his cheeks and his tilted, happy face as he laughed. You could see that even when he was happy, he wasn’t entirely happy. The painting screamed love and devotion and…pain.
She could have cried. Her eyes filled with tears but she blinked them away. There weren’t many times she’d seen Maxwell cheerful like this and Liz had some how captured it flawlessly. Only someone who adored him as much as she did could have noticed that about him.
“Can we move onto the next one?” Amanda asked. “It’s a shame this one isn’t for sale. By your face I can see how you like it.”
Josephine gulped. “It’s not for sale?”
“No, see it says there…” Amanda pointed to the small typed sign hanging on the wall.
Josephine had seen most of the collection before setting her eyes on Liz. She’d changed a lot since the last time they’d been together. Something in her posture and gestures had matured and her face had lost its innocence and gained experience. She was wearing a pretty yellow and white frock that complimented her hair and complexion beautifully. Her lips were shinning red and if Josephine didn’t have Hannah she would have fallen in love with her.
She was the centre of attention and no one could stop looking at her. Every person wanted to talk to her. She was so busy that she didn’t even notice Josephine.
Josephine saw there was a youthful man that did not stray far from her side. At one point he put his arm around her waist and whispered in her ear. She watched as Liz laughed and beamed into his face.
She was an entirely different person from the guileless bubble of energy she’d been back in Gloucester.
~*~
It would have suited Liz just fine to hide in the corner and watch everyone mill around. From there she could have seen their expressions and seen if they truly loved her work.
Her evening was being ruined because she was so self-conscious of the painting of Maxwell. It was as if there was an elephant in the room and it was stopping her from fully enjoying her success. She wanted to cover it up because it felt like a big part of her was being revealed to the world. She kept glancing towards it unconsciously. It never should have been entered as a part of the exhibition but Franklin had insisted.
Liz knew that was his way of dealing with the paintings. He wanted them to be out in the open because then he wouldn’t have to worry as much about her apparent attachment to them. If he continued to think she’d painted them just for herself he’d go insane. Even if his words seemed convincing he wasn’t good at hiding the jealousy in his face.
“You’re going to be so great,” her Grandmother Elaine said. “I’m so proud of you. It was such a good idea to send you here. And your French is perfect.”
Elaine had come to Paris just for the exhibition. She even brought an antique diamond necklace as a gift. Apparently her own grandmother had given it to her when she was younger. When she gave it to Liz she said, “I think you’ve earned this.”
Liz asked why her mother had never gotten it. Elaine didn’t outright answer but Liz suspected it was because Samantha had never done anything extraordinary with her life. Elaine probably wanted to say, “Where would she have worn it? What use is it if it is kept in a jewellery box?”
In that moment Liz missed her mother immensely. She would have loved the necklace and it didn’t seem fair that she’d never gotten it.
“Have some wine,” Franklin suggested. “I can tell you’re tense. You need to relax.”
Liz decided that she did not like alcohol and she’d never drink it again. She shook her head and waved him off. “No, I’m fine.”
The evening lasted for a long time and Liz was glad to go home when she did. Franklin dropped her off and she kissed him goodbye before ambling upstairs. She made herself some tea and sat down by the window with all the lights off, staring at the city. She’d made so many friends and done so much…why did the troubling memory of one man still have to affect her?
Right now she would have given anything just to have him there as a friend.
She sat there for a long time and it was just after she’d changed into her night gown that there was a knock on the door. It was very late and she wondered who it could possibly be.
It was Josephine.
“He told me not to come,” she said before even a hello, “But after tonight I absolutely had to see how you are.”
Liz could have cried. Here was the closest she could have gotten to Maxwell on her doorstep. She gave her a huge hug, burying her face her perfumed hair. When she pulled back she asked breathlessly, “Has something happened?” she held the door open. “Come in! Come in!”
“No!” Josephine laughed. “I am in Paris on business and you won’t believe it but by fluke I ended up at your exhibition!”
“Really? You were there?” Liz was amazed by how relieved she was to see Josephine. “How did I not notice you?”
“I was very inconspicuous. But you won’t believe how hard it was for me to find out where you live. I was going to save my visit for tomorrow but I couldn’t because I leave for home in the evening and I’m booked up completely until then…” Josephine took her first deep breath since she’d walked in the door. “And here I am! Terribly rude and unannounced and I’ve caught you in your nightie.”
“I’m so glad you came,” Liz said while smiling with her whole face. She took Josephine‘s coat and hung it on the hook by the door. Then the two of them walked through to the ‘lounge’. It was really an empty room with a few chairs and couch. A room she never used. “How did you like the exhibition?”
“I adored it as much as everyone else there,” Josephine said. She sat down on the couch and elegantly rested her hands together on her lap. She looked around the empty room. “Have you just moved?”
Liz laughed at herself. “Not really. I’m pathetic, I can’t be bothered doing anything with this place.”
“Do you live by yourself? What about that handsome young man I saw clinging onto your arm all night?”
“No…” Liz shook her head. “I’m on my own here and I like it.”
“You could hire someone to decorate. After the prices I saw on your artwork tonight I know you can afford it,” Josephine said. She then reached out and took Liz’s hands in her own. They were sitting closely on the couch. “How are you, darling girl? Your success astounds me; it’s almost unrealistic how wonderful you’re doing. I always knew you were talented so I can understand why the Parisian’s have just gobbled you right up.”
They both had so much to say that they didn’t know where to begin.
Liz thanked her for her compliments. “It’s just as surprising to me.”
Suddenly she pulled her hand away from Josephine’s and smacked herself lightly on the forehead. “I haven’t offered you a drink.”
“Don’t you dare,” Josephine said. “That wouldn’t be the Liz I know. But then again, you’re not that Liz anymore are you?”
“I’m not,” Liz said devastatingly. “I wish I was.”
“Oh dear,” Josephine shook her head, “Youth and innocence does not last forever.”
“Am I much older?”
Josephine smiled at her panic. “So much it’s amazing. And it’s becoming. You look wonderful and almost sophisticated.”
“No! Not sophisticated!” Liz cried “Tell me you’re kidding.”
“Well look at this room, do you think I’m serious?”
They laughed together and then Liz gave her another hug. “I so needed to see you today. You’re a wonderful surprise.”
“So are you. Fate decided we should meet today. Maxwell—” Josephine must have noticed the colour change in Liz’s face. “Told me I was to leave you alone but then somehow I end up at your exhibition. Fate, no?”
“Fate,” Liz nodded distractedly. She was realized she could not show Josephine her studio and all those paintings of him. “Why was Maxwell against you visiting me?”
“Oh he was just worried about me being a nuisance and so on,” Josephine rolled her eyes. “He’s absurd, he really is. Speaking of Maxwell…I saw the painting of him tonight.”
“Oh?” Liz was very embarrassed. She looked away.
“It is beautiful,” Josephine sighed happily at the thought of it. “I was disappointed it wasn’t for sale.”
Liz was barely listening. She couldn’t hold in the question any longer. “How is he?” she asked. Almost pleaded.
Josephine pressed her lips together. “Oh you know…” she said, “He’s the same moody old grump. His blindness just consumes him. He can’t get beyond it.”
“I know,” Liz said. She remembered that about him.
“He misses you a lot,” Josephine said. “We both do. You added a little excitement to our lives.”
Liz smiled. “I don’t believe that.”
“Are you ever going to come home?”
“To what?” she asked quietly.
“I know it must feel that way but there are a lot of people who would like to see you.”
A couple of hours past before they both realized it was deep in the morning. When it was time for Josephine to leave Liz was sad. She wanted to give her something to take with her so she rushed into her studio. She came back with a small painting of Maxwell smoking a cigar.
“Have this,” she said.
“Oh it’s beautiful!” Josephine cried. “I love it. How much do you want for it?”
“Nothing of course.”
Liz refused to let Josephine pay for any of her work. She hugged her goodbye and told her they should keep in touch.
“We definitely should,” Josephine agreed.
Liz eventually made her way to bed after closing the door. She curled up on her side and stared at the wall.
~*~
Look! I updated within a month! Wow! I've actually had this written for a week but I never got around to posting it lol. I hope you enjoyed reading it,
take care,
~nicola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef