Title: Screen
Author: Nicola
Category: AU M/L
Rating: TEEN
Disclaimer: Don't own the names, but everything else is all mine
After WWII Max is having some problems and Liz is there to help him out.
---------------------------------
On the sixteenth of January 1948 Maxwell Evans stepped out of his fashionable apartment block and strode down the wet, grey street. Balanced in the palm of one black-leather clad hand was a shiny wooden walking stick, while the other slept in his pocket where it was safe from the cold. He briefly pondered that it was a pleasant evening with the sun just emerging from behind the wet clouds for the last time.
Not many people were out save for the occasional someone that Maxwell would rub shoulders with as they hurried along. He felt slight speckles of water on his cheeks where the rain was letting up.
Five minutes from his destination, he heard a quiet feminine whimpering. He stuck his chin up and listened carefully—trying to identify where the sound was coming from. It could be nothing other than a woman crying.
Making a silent decision, Maxwell walked towards them and asked softly, “Are you alright?”
“No,” the woman answered simply and sharply. Hesitantly, she looked up and her brow creased—the sun was in her eyes. “Do I know you?” she asked.
It wasn’t often that such an elegant man stood in front of her. He wore an expensive overcoat and a double breasted dinner jacket.
“I don’t believe so,” he smiled charmingly. “Can I help you in anyway?”
“Of course not,” she replied in surprise.
“I’m very sorry to hear that,” he told her honestly.
Maxwell then tipped his head respectfully and crossed the street to the closest delicatessen. He asked for help finding what he needed and then paid for it with crisp notes. “Will that be all?” the old worker asked.
“Yes, thank you,” he replied. He went back out onto the street and waited patiently for the sounds of the cars to pass and then crossed the road. The crying had begun again so he went directly towards her.
“I took a moment to presume you might like this,” he said holding a thin bar of rich chocolate out to her.
“Excuse me?” she asked, now shocked beyond belief and wondering what his problem was.
He smiled. “I was once told that chocolate is one of the best antidotes for a distressed woman. I took the liberty to find out—”
Despite her mood, she felt the corner of her mouth twitch with the start of a smile. “That is very kind of you, sir—”
“Maxwell Evans,” he introduced himself.
The girl noticed that Mr. Evans eyes were slightly fazed and he would not catch her stare directly. She took the bar of chocolate from him and wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “Thank you, Mr. Evans,” she said.
“You are most welcome,” he replied. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to be on my way…”
“Wait,” she said, surprised. Surely this man was not just bestowing a random act of kindness upon her? Certainly he wanted something, a date, a dinner and a trip to his apartment, perhaps?
He turned but seemed unable to find the position of her face.
“What are you—” she suddenly understood—the cane, the expression in his eyes, “blind or something?”
Maxwell hesitated. “Well, actually…yes.”
She was in fact rather relieved. That meant he couldn’t see the mascara smears that were most definitely under her eyes or the puffiness of her cheeks from the salt in her tears.
“Oh,” she said dumbly.
“I am late for a dinner appointment,” he said. “I must go.”
“Yes, alright,” she stood up and shook his hand. “Thank you again, sir…”
He smiled. “That is quite alright.”
Maxwell continued on his way towards the restaurant, oblivious to the fact that the girl watched him until he was completely out of sight.
The Kings Valley restaurant was only around the corner. Many greeted him warmly at the door and a man took his coat before leading him to his table.
“I’m late aren’t I?” he asked his wife with a smile. He heard her chair scrape across the floor and then the shuffle of her heals as she stood up.
Routinely, she took his cane for him and rested it against the table while he took a seat. “Not too late. You didn’t walk did you?” Her voice was sweet and womanly but with overtones of exasperated concern.
“It was too pleasant outside not to,” he replied.
She groaned quietly. “It isn’t pleasant outside, it is wet and horrible—not to mention hazardous.”
“I’m not a child. I stormed the beaches at Normandy—surely I can walk two blocks, no?”
“Of course you can, blindness be damned,” she fixed her napkin on her lap and reached for her white wine. “There’s a whisky there, can you find it or would you like me to hand it to you?”
“I can find it,” he replied. “Now, Josephine, my attentive wife—what is it that brought us here this evening?”
“I’m worried that it isn’t best for me to move out right now, how can I find peace of mind while I’m nervous that you’ve fallen and can’t get up?”
He loved that she always got directly to the point when he needed her to. “You cannot spend your time fussing over an ex-soldier. I’m fine alone; you’ve already given up two years to look after me but I will no longer allow it. Have you ordered?”
“Hmm, I got you the steak and gravy.”
“Perfect, that’s exactly what I wanted.”
She bit her lip. “I know it is. Now sweetheart, you can imagine my concern—it’s very difficult for a blind man to live alone.”
“I have a maid and a butler,” he replied. “I will be very safe. Besides, you’ve already made all the arrangements and I will not allow you to back out of them now.”
“Perhaps you should get yourself a mistress.”
Maxwell laughed. “Now you’re just being silly.”
“Well…why is the idea so absurd? I’ve got a lover—why not you too? Just because we’re trapped in this marriage does not mean we cannot find happiness elsewhere.”
“Do you wish you’d never married me?” he asked seriously.
“You’re my best friend Maxwell, we can’t help that we aren’t madly in love. I don’t know what to say about the whole marriage thing other than…it was an eye-opener.”
“Very much so in your case,” he said.
Their food arrived and they ate in companionable silence. During dessert Josephine reminded him about the appointment he had at the girls’ college next week. “You will go, won’t you?”
“If you want me to, I will,” he replied.
“Yes, it’s very important to Hannah and me.”
“Then I assure you that I will.”
~*~
Liz glanced up from her blank, finely woven canvas and settled her eyes on the bowl of fruits in the centre of the room. Something was blocking her inspiration, perhaps it was the subject—she preferred to paint people.
Her paint brush was about to be tossed down in frustration when the door to the room opened and a messenger walked in with a small slip of paper. She handed it to her teacher and after reading its contents, Mr Faulk clapped his hands twice in a way that demanded everyone’s attention.
“Today’s assembly has been moved to ten o’clock,” he announced, “Please pack up your things, try if you will to save some of the paint, yes?”
Liz didn’t have much to pack up but she moved slowly in hopes to put off leaving. Assemblies were so boring in her opinion. Sitting still for that long was difficult for her.
“You heard that new song?” she asked he best friend Maria. “I don’t know what it’s called…oh, something…oh…no I’ve lost it.”
“How does it sound?” Maria asked as she pulled on her soft pink cardigan.
“Hmm, well it…” Liz started to hum and was rather proud of her accurate attempt when her friend put an end to that by telling her she was completely out of tune and consequently the worst hummer in the world. “Do you know what song I’m thinking of then?”
“Yes,” Maria said.
“Well then I can’t be that bad then. Do you like it?”
“It’s okay.”
The girls in the class all had to line up and walk in single file down the school hallways. Once they reached the polished wooden steps they were allowed to spread out.
“Stop bouncing!” Maria chuckled. “You’re so odd, you know? Why are you smiling?”
“Why not?” Liz asked. She slid her hand down the banister as they descended, wishing she could slide down it on her bottom.
She was the only one who found the need to sing and fiddle after they’d taken their seats. Everyone else had discipline.
The hall was old and grand with large arched windows. It doubled as a chapel and the sound echoed terribly. This was a problem for Liz because whenever she felt the need to comment on something the headmistress had said it wouldn’t be surprising if she was scolded for it a few moments later.
Today she was sandwiched in-between Sarah Martin and Maria. They were both so proper with their perfectly straight backs and fashionable hair. Liz didn’t usually mind that she stood out but she wasn’t allowed to get up to any mischief for another few weeks and it would be blatantly obvious if she didn’t make an effort to behave.
Two minutes after sitting with her back at a faultless ninety-degree angle she was sore and slouching. “How do you do it?” she asked her friend making no effort to lower her voice.
“Do what?” Maria asked through the corner of her mouth.
An angered ‘shush’ came from Sarah so Liz was forced not to answer but that didn’t stop her from rolling her eyes.
At Sacred Heart College the girls had to stand when the headmistress entered the room. They had to do it as silently as possible but this morning when an unexpected handsome guest walked onto the stage a murmur broke out that couldn’t be helped.
“Oh my,” Sarah decided it was okay to talk now, “who on earth is he?”
Liz felt a twinge of familiarity when her eyes landed on the man. Absentmindedly she mumbled, “I’ve seen him somewhere before…”
“Where?” Maria asked as they took their seats again.
“I don’t know…”
She was thinking about it while the headmistress spoke.
“How old do you think he is?” asked Sarah. Obviously it was fine to break the rules when a male was involved. It made Liz nauseous how much her friends relied on the hope of getting a good husband. “I’d say…late twenties, early thirties.”
When he was introduced as Maxwell Evans she remembered. “Oh, it’s him.”
“Who?”
“He bought me chocolate.”
“He did?”
Suddenly their teacher hissed, “Ladies, be quiet!” and pointed his finger angrily.
Liz scrutinized the man closely for the remainder of the hour. He didn’t give much of a speech but they were told that he had bought their all girls school because he believed that women should have more of an input in the industry of the future. All the girls swooned at that, his opinion was a surprise—men didn’t usually have such an open-minded view on the educated other sex.
The assembly flew by and while Liz watched Mr. Evans descend the steps of the stage she decided she would have to speak to him again. It would only be right to thank him properly for his kindness last week.
“Mr. Faulk!” she barked abruptly startling the girls around her. “Mr. Faulk! I must use the bathroom this minute or I will positively burst. My stomach hurts from holding it in so long…”
“Good god girl,” he said, “The whole world doesn’t need to know. Just go, quickly, and shut up.”
Liz flew down the isle and out the front doors to the lobby. Unfortunately Mrs. Smith was standing at the only exit so she had to sneak into the bathrooms before she was caught. Once in there she noticed that she could possibly fit through one of the windows above the cubicles, so after hoisting herself up onto the seat she pushed at the glass with all her might.
“What are you doing?” someone suddenly asked behind her.
Liz lifted one of her legs and attempted shoving it through the window but lost her balance on the toilet seat and slipped, one foot landing directly in the bowl.
“Oh God!” the person behind her cried.
“Oh boy,” Liz moaned, “Oh boy, that’s really gross. Oh yuck…”
That didn’t stop her however. She heard a car engine start and knew it could possibly be Mr. Evans leaving, so she thrust herself up and through without a moments hesitation. It was just bad luck that she landed on some metal trash cans and tripped, scrapping her knees and causing holes in her pantyhose as she fell.
Up ahead Mr. Evans hesitated just before he got in his car. He’d heard the racket and though he couldn’t see what was going on he hoped no one was hurt.
“Mr. Evans!” Liz cried. “Mr. Evans please wait!”
She quickly hobbled towards him and then straightened when they were only a couple of feet away from each other.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
She swallowed her harsh breathing and replied, “Mr. Evans, we met the other day…you bought me chocolate, I wanted to say thank you…”
He took a moment to rake his memory and then let out a knowing, “Ah…” He paused and then added, “The distressed girl. I remember. How are you…? I don’t believe I ever did get your name.”
“I am Elizabeth Parker, but everyone calls me Liz.” She held out her hand for him to shake but then saw that the scrapes covering her palm were bleeding so she quickly snatched it back. “I also wanted to apologise for being rude that day. You can imagine my surprise at such kindness from a stranger.”
“That is alright,” he smiled. Liz thought that he had a very friendly, warm face. There was something wrong however, in his ill eyes there was obvious sadness. “I trust whatever was bothering you that day is now resolved?”
“Sort of,” she replied. “So you now own my school…does that mean you’ll be here on a regular basis?”
“I may be,” he replied.
“Did you really mean what you said about women and the work force?”
He chuckled. “Well…can you keep a secret?”
“No one can keep a secret better than I.”
Before telling her, he scratched his temple and Liz thought it was a very childish gesture for such a professional man. “I bought your school because my wife bullied me into it. She does that quite frequently—she’s very frightening sometimes. I could stand up to a Nazi and even a Jap, but not her.”
Liz would have laughed but she was silently disappointed that he was married. “I can respect that,” she said. “Shows you love her very much.”
He nodded. “She takes good care of me. But anyway…I’m here for the simple reason that she has strong views on female independence and so therefore I do too. This is my gift to her.”
“I won’t tell anyone,” she replied.
“That’s much appreciated.”
Suddenly there was a yell behind her and Mrs. Smith came marching up angrily, her large stomach and breasts shook as she went. “Miss Parker, what are you doing bothering this man? You should be in class young lady. A month until you graduate and yet you’re still giving us trouble.”
“No, please she had good reason to speak to me,” Mr. Evans said, “We’ve met before you see. I’m sorry for keeping her.”
Mrs Smith had no choice but to be polite to the man who would be providing her pay check so she simply replied that Liz had to been inside soon. Once she was gone Liz said, “I better go. Thank you again Mr. Evans.”
“Please, call me Max.”
“Okay, I hope to see you again Max.”
He smiled again. “And I you, have a good afternoon Liz.”
Screen (AU,M/L,TEEN) AN 4/11/06 [WIP]
Moderators: Anniepoo98, ISLANDGIRL5, truelovepooh, Forum Moderators
Screen (AU,M/L,TEEN) AN 4/11/06 [WIP]
Last edited by nicola on Tue Mar 21, 2006 2:16 pm, edited 30 times in total.
New part:
Liz's mother Samantha collected teddy bears and liked to place them all over the house. Liz wasn’t keen on them, she figured if you were going to own something furry and small it may as well be an animal.
She was sitting at the dinning room table with her homework spread all over the place when her mother came home that evening. Instead of working she’d been counting the bears and discovered that there were now twenty in this room alone. Plurk, she thought, that is so pathetic.
“How was your day?”
“It was okay,” Samantha kicked off her shoes and sat down across from Liz. “What’s all this then? Oh…chocolate! Can I have a piece?”
“No, I’m not going to open it,” Liz answered. “A man gave it to me last week, it’s been sitting on my dresser.”
“A man huh?” her mother wiggled her eyebrows. “It’s a good thing your father isn’t here; he wouldn’t be too happy with that.”
“He was a stranger but I ran into him again today at school, he’s really charming. Blind.”
She could practically see the dials in her mothers brain start to work as she imagined possible dangers of this situation. “Why did this stranger give you chocolate? You should throw it out—he could have done anything to it.”
Liz shrugged. She wasn’t going to throw it out, but she wasn’t going to eat it either. Not because she feared it was unsafe…just because. “He owns the school. He has a wife.”
“You won’t go being anyone’s mistress, you hear me?” Samantha said.
“Oh for heavens sake.”
“Well, I’m just making sure you weren’t considering it. Things can happen so easily.”
Liz got up from the table and slipped her feet into her brown, worn down slippers. “What should we have for dinner?”
“We have Mrs. Arnott’s party to go to, did you forget?”
A loud, unflattering moan escaped her. “Oh man, do we have to go?”
“Yes, we said we would. I am not one to cancel. That nice boy Françoise will be there.”
“He has bad breath,” Liz commented. “And he is always biting his finger nails. Imagine kissing him, just thinking about it makes me feel nauseous.”
Despite her attempts not to, Samantha laughed. “Oh you, stop that. You can’t speak about people like that.”
“He can’t hear me.”
Liz went to her room, the only place in the house where there wasn’t a single teddy bear, and flopped back on her bed. She didn’t really feel like going out and even if she did, she didn’t have anything to wear.
Out in the lounge she heard Samantha turn on the record player, soon followed by her high pitched voice as she sung along with Frank Sinatra. She had it very loud so that there would be no place in the house that you could escape from hearing it.
Liz rolled onto her stomach and reached under her pillow for the pile of letters from her father. She ran her fingers over the writing on the envelope and then leaned forward and pressed her face up against them. Her eyes closed momentarily…
“What are you doing?”
She quickly tucked them back in their place. “Nothing. How long before we have to leave?”
“As long as it takes me to curl my hair…but don’t think you’ll be getting ready in a big hurry a few minutes before we go, I want you to start looking for something to wear now. Better yet…” Samantha walked over to the closet and riffled around before placing a simple dress down on the bed.
Liz guessed she’d be wearing that.
“Get a move on.”
When her mother left she made no effort to get up off her bed. In fact, she accidentally let her eyes drift closed and before she knew it she was being shaken awake. She shot up in surprise and fell onto the floor.
“Oh my god!” she cried. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.”
“You better be, young lady. Two minutes, and I’ll be timing,” Samantha said.
Liz tugged off her skirt and blouse so quickly that she nearly lost many buttons. Her mother stood watching angrily. She looked nice in her fitted jacket with a nipped in waist and full calf length skirt. Samantha was very happy to be liberated with her fashions; the rationing of fabric during the war nearly killed her. The wartime austerity styles were nobodies favourite, especially to those whole-heartedly fashion conscious.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Liz announced.
“You must be teasing me, what about your hair?” Samantha cried. “What am I going to do with you? Sometimes I’m sure you were meant to be a boy.”
“Maybe I was.”
“Come here.”
Samantha got some pins to fix back her daughter hair and then put an old flower clip at the back. “Not so nice but it’ll do. Now we must go.”
The party was incredibly uneventful and Liz was bored, just like she’d known she would be. Although one good thing did come of it, at one point Mrs. Arnott asked what she thought of the new owner of the school and Liz found out that he had inherited an important linen and fabric factory. Apparently he was rich and quite well known in high society.
“I think he bought the school to build his empire, so to speak,” Mrs Arnott explained.
“Have you met his wife?” Liz asked curiously.
“No, but apparently her father is Richard Johnson—the well known district attorney.”
“Oh yes?” Samantha stuck her nose in. “I have met him. Comes into work sometimes.”
“It is a small world,” Mrs Arnott said. “Oh look, here comes Françoise. Elizabeth it would be frightfully sweet if you two would dance together. You aren’t scared of him are you?”
“No, just of his breath,” she muttered in disgust.
Her mother heard and nudged her roughly with her elbow. “Go dance with the boy right now.”
Françoise held her very tightly and said that he would like to see her more regularly if she would allow it. She didn’t know how to tell him that he was incredibly repulsive without hurting his feelings.
If she didn’t get away this moment then there was the very embarrassing possibility that she may just throw up on him. “You’ve been eating onions, yes?” she asked.
“Pardon?” he asked in surprise. “No, I don’t like onions.”
“That’s surprising. I have to go…get some fresh air. Excuse me.”
Thankfully he didn’t follow her and she managed to hide away until it was time to go.
~*~
It was very late and Maxwell sat at the window of his apartment sipping whisky. A forgotten cigar lay in an ash tray leaving a thin trail of smoke that occasionally irked his nostrils.
He told himself that he was just going to finish his drink and then he’d go to bed. Although, after he drained the glass he promptly filled it again, if only to leave it sitting on the table.
“Sir, I’m going to bed. Will you be alright?”
Arnold, his butler stood in the doorway, unsure as to whether it was safe to interrupt the silence of the room.
Maxwell didn’t turn to look, simply replied, “Fine. Good night.”
It was so quiet that he heard the soft footsteps of Arnold’s pale, wrinkled feet all the way on the other side of the apartment.
Maxwell closed his eyes and unintentionally envisioned a blasting of light for only a minute before he was reaching for his glass again and gulping down its contents.
How could he sleep when there was fire behind his eye lids? It didn’t matter that he was blind, his mind told him it was there and he could imagine it. Every night it would keep him awake, it didn’t matter that three years had passed. Some things are impossible to forget. The more you wanted it gone from your memory, the more prominent it became.
“What are you going to do once this is all over?”
“I’m going to spend my life trying to forget it.”
Before he knew it, it would be morning and he’d be drunk and stiff. He’d have to spend the day in a daze, going through the motions with every single person asking if he needed help with this, or could he find that okay?
Maxwell knew that if his father was here he wouldn’t fuss over him. He’d be gruff and uncaring, which was exactly what he wanted. Maybe he could get over it if everyone stopped fussing, if everyone just stopped reminding him.
Eventually, he ended up falling asleep in his chair with his head tilted forward. The pain in the morning was so thunderous that he thought he might die. Surely this is old age catching up on me early, he thought. I must be getting what my father used to talk so profusely about.
“Can’t even move in the morning without something aching, I’m bloody useless. If you can find a way not to grow up, boy, do it. Hang on to anything that is remotely youthful and don’t let go.”
Somehow Maxwell managed to unglue himself from the chair and make his way to the bathroom. After showering and dressing for the day he had breakfast that the maid had prepared. She offered him a shoulder rub and he gladly took her up on it. It didn’t do much to help but he was grateful.
Throughout the day he managed the factory and talked with his accountant about finances. The corporation had risen from nothing, producing only towels and face cloths, now it produced silks and many other expensive coloured fabrics. It had grown substantially throughout the war and now it would be a surprise if every household didn’t have at least one outfit made from Evans fabric.
In the afternoon his wife suggested he go to the college and meet all the employees properly. He could spare some time, so he went and in the car he briefly wondered whether or not he would run into that funny Liz girl he’d met two weeks ago.
As soon as he arrived he dreaded that he’d come. All afternoon he fluffed around with everyone constantly fawning over him—which he absolutely hated—and was very glad to be leaving at the end of the day.
He was just sliding into his car when he heard a familiar yell. Unconsciously a smile touched his mouth. “It’s Liz, isn’t it?”
“You remembered?”
“I’m good with names. I have to be with what I do. How are you?”
“Great. Would you like to give me a ride home?”
He was surprised by her guileless attitude. He didn’t meet many people like that anymore. “I could get in trouble for that.”
“I don’t have any bad intentions,” she said pleadingly.
“Okay...I suppose it would be alright. I don’t have anywhere to be just yet.”
He held the door open for her and she got in before him, sliding along the caramel-coloured leather. “Thank you so much, you’ve saved me a long walk. What is your driver’s name?”
“Angelo.”
“Hello Angelo,” she said cheerfully. “My address is twenty-three Honiton Road. Do you know where that is?”
“Sì sweet girl,” he replied. “I will find it.”
“You’re Italian! Wonderful.”
“Neanche per sogno! No way, I am not Italiano.”
Liz frowned at him and then heard Max whisper quietly in her ear, “He is ashamed of where he comes from because of their actions in the war.”
“Ohhh…” she slumped back into the seat. “That’s…odd.” Perking up even more, if that was possible, she commented, “You have a very nice car.”
“Thank you.”
They had a short silence and then Liz said, “You’re wife must be happy that you are visiting the school.”
“Yes, it makes her happy,” he replied. “So…what is it that you want to do when you’ve finished school? I take it you want more for yourself then to be a wife and mother?”
Liz explained that she had a great love of Broadway and the cinema. If she could, the one thing she would like to spend her life doing is writing reviews for all the shows and films. Max said that he too used to love viewing shows.
“My favourite movie is Only Angels Have Wings, what’s yours?”
Liz thought hard about that question. “I’m not sure, I love so many.”
“There must be one you have in mind?”
“The Awful Truth, directed by Leo McCarey, that was a good film,” she said. “Also, Citizen Kane…”
“I saw Citizen Kane,” Max's face showed he was trying to remember if he liked it or not.
Liz wondered what year he had lost his eye sight. Citizen Kane was made in 1941, so clearly he had experienced at least two years of battle. Finally, unable to help herself, she asked.
“The last year,” he replied with sadness. “In June.”
She got this feeling that he didn’t want her to apologize for that, so she didn’t. Instead, she asked him what he aspired to. This made him laugh.
“I think it’s a little late for me, don’t you think?”
“No of course not, what are you—Thirty? That’s not old.”
He smiled. “Older than you.”
“Well…yes. But sometimes it seems like everyone nice is older than me.”
He admitted that before the war he’d been interested in politics—which she thought was boring and didn’t hold back in telling him so—but his two brothers and father had all passed away in the last four years so he was left with the Evans Fabrics Factory.
“I have had my life made up for me,” he said.
She bit her lip. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and it will go bankrupt and then you will have to find something else to support you.”
“You’d consider that a good thing?” he asked with amusement.
“Sure,” she laughed.
The two of them found it very easy to talk. It was easy to slip into the comfortable state that old friends possessed. Max hadn’t even realized how long that had been driving for. Finally he asked his driver, “Angelo, are you lost?”
“No sir,” came his reply.
“How far away is your home?” Max asked Liz.
She peeked out the window and then turned her gaze back to him. “Quite far.”
“And you walk?”
“Only in the afternoons. My mother drives me in the morning.”
Max scratched his chin. “That must take you a frightfully long time.”
“Nearly an hour,” she replied. “But it’s okay.”
His expression showed his horror. “A lady should not have to walk such a distance. Do you have sisters to walk with?”
“No, I’m an only child. But it really is fine, I do not mind so much.”
“I shall just have to give you a ride regularly, shan’t I?” he offered.
“I would hate to be an inconvenience.”
“Okay, well I will only give you a ride when I am at the school for business. Alright?”
“Thank you.”
~*~
I looked especially close to make sure I had changed all the names correctly this time because so many of you caught my mistakes before lol! Thank you all for giving this a chance, I hope you liked this part
Lot's of love
~nicola
Liz's mother Samantha collected teddy bears and liked to place them all over the house. Liz wasn’t keen on them, she figured if you were going to own something furry and small it may as well be an animal.
She was sitting at the dinning room table with her homework spread all over the place when her mother came home that evening. Instead of working she’d been counting the bears and discovered that there were now twenty in this room alone. Plurk, she thought, that is so pathetic.
“How was your day?”
“It was okay,” Samantha kicked off her shoes and sat down across from Liz. “What’s all this then? Oh…chocolate! Can I have a piece?”
“No, I’m not going to open it,” Liz answered. “A man gave it to me last week, it’s been sitting on my dresser.”
“A man huh?” her mother wiggled her eyebrows. “It’s a good thing your father isn’t here; he wouldn’t be too happy with that.”
“He was a stranger but I ran into him again today at school, he’s really charming. Blind.”
She could practically see the dials in her mothers brain start to work as she imagined possible dangers of this situation. “Why did this stranger give you chocolate? You should throw it out—he could have done anything to it.”
Liz shrugged. She wasn’t going to throw it out, but she wasn’t going to eat it either. Not because she feared it was unsafe…just because. “He owns the school. He has a wife.”
“You won’t go being anyone’s mistress, you hear me?” Samantha said.
“Oh for heavens sake.”
“Well, I’m just making sure you weren’t considering it. Things can happen so easily.”
Liz got up from the table and slipped her feet into her brown, worn down slippers. “What should we have for dinner?”
“We have Mrs. Arnott’s party to go to, did you forget?”
A loud, unflattering moan escaped her. “Oh man, do we have to go?”
“Yes, we said we would. I am not one to cancel. That nice boy Françoise will be there.”
“He has bad breath,” Liz commented. “And he is always biting his finger nails. Imagine kissing him, just thinking about it makes me feel nauseous.”
Despite her attempts not to, Samantha laughed. “Oh you, stop that. You can’t speak about people like that.”
“He can’t hear me.”
Liz went to her room, the only place in the house where there wasn’t a single teddy bear, and flopped back on her bed. She didn’t really feel like going out and even if she did, she didn’t have anything to wear.
Out in the lounge she heard Samantha turn on the record player, soon followed by her high pitched voice as she sung along with Frank Sinatra. She had it very loud so that there would be no place in the house that you could escape from hearing it.
Liz rolled onto her stomach and reached under her pillow for the pile of letters from her father. She ran her fingers over the writing on the envelope and then leaned forward and pressed her face up against them. Her eyes closed momentarily…
“What are you doing?”
She quickly tucked them back in their place. “Nothing. How long before we have to leave?”
“As long as it takes me to curl my hair…but don’t think you’ll be getting ready in a big hurry a few minutes before we go, I want you to start looking for something to wear now. Better yet…” Samantha walked over to the closet and riffled around before placing a simple dress down on the bed.
Liz guessed she’d be wearing that.
“Get a move on.”
When her mother left she made no effort to get up off her bed. In fact, she accidentally let her eyes drift closed and before she knew it she was being shaken awake. She shot up in surprise and fell onto the floor.
“Oh my god!” she cried. “I’ll be ready in two minutes.”
“You better be, young lady. Two minutes, and I’ll be timing,” Samantha said.
Liz tugged off her skirt and blouse so quickly that she nearly lost many buttons. Her mother stood watching angrily. She looked nice in her fitted jacket with a nipped in waist and full calf length skirt. Samantha was very happy to be liberated with her fashions; the rationing of fabric during the war nearly killed her. The wartime austerity styles were nobodies favourite, especially to those whole-heartedly fashion conscious.
“Okay, I’m ready,” Liz announced.
“You must be teasing me, what about your hair?” Samantha cried. “What am I going to do with you? Sometimes I’m sure you were meant to be a boy.”
“Maybe I was.”
“Come here.”
Samantha got some pins to fix back her daughter hair and then put an old flower clip at the back. “Not so nice but it’ll do. Now we must go.”
The party was incredibly uneventful and Liz was bored, just like she’d known she would be. Although one good thing did come of it, at one point Mrs. Arnott asked what she thought of the new owner of the school and Liz found out that he had inherited an important linen and fabric factory. Apparently he was rich and quite well known in high society.
“I think he bought the school to build his empire, so to speak,” Mrs Arnott explained.
“Have you met his wife?” Liz asked curiously.
“No, but apparently her father is Richard Johnson—the well known district attorney.”
“Oh yes?” Samantha stuck her nose in. “I have met him. Comes into work sometimes.”
“It is a small world,” Mrs Arnott said. “Oh look, here comes Françoise. Elizabeth it would be frightfully sweet if you two would dance together. You aren’t scared of him are you?”
“No, just of his breath,” she muttered in disgust.
Her mother heard and nudged her roughly with her elbow. “Go dance with the boy right now.”
Françoise held her very tightly and said that he would like to see her more regularly if she would allow it. She didn’t know how to tell him that he was incredibly repulsive without hurting his feelings.
If she didn’t get away this moment then there was the very embarrassing possibility that she may just throw up on him. “You’ve been eating onions, yes?” she asked.
“Pardon?” he asked in surprise. “No, I don’t like onions.”
“That’s surprising. I have to go…get some fresh air. Excuse me.”
Thankfully he didn’t follow her and she managed to hide away until it was time to go.
~*~
It was very late and Maxwell sat at the window of his apartment sipping whisky. A forgotten cigar lay in an ash tray leaving a thin trail of smoke that occasionally irked his nostrils.
He told himself that he was just going to finish his drink and then he’d go to bed. Although, after he drained the glass he promptly filled it again, if only to leave it sitting on the table.
“Sir, I’m going to bed. Will you be alright?”
Arnold, his butler stood in the doorway, unsure as to whether it was safe to interrupt the silence of the room.
Maxwell didn’t turn to look, simply replied, “Fine. Good night.”
It was so quiet that he heard the soft footsteps of Arnold’s pale, wrinkled feet all the way on the other side of the apartment.
Maxwell closed his eyes and unintentionally envisioned a blasting of light for only a minute before he was reaching for his glass again and gulping down its contents.
How could he sleep when there was fire behind his eye lids? It didn’t matter that he was blind, his mind told him it was there and he could imagine it. Every night it would keep him awake, it didn’t matter that three years had passed. Some things are impossible to forget. The more you wanted it gone from your memory, the more prominent it became.
“What are you going to do once this is all over?”
“I’m going to spend my life trying to forget it.”
Before he knew it, it would be morning and he’d be drunk and stiff. He’d have to spend the day in a daze, going through the motions with every single person asking if he needed help with this, or could he find that okay?
Maxwell knew that if his father was here he wouldn’t fuss over him. He’d be gruff and uncaring, which was exactly what he wanted. Maybe he could get over it if everyone stopped fussing, if everyone just stopped reminding him.
Eventually, he ended up falling asleep in his chair with his head tilted forward. The pain in the morning was so thunderous that he thought he might die. Surely this is old age catching up on me early, he thought. I must be getting what my father used to talk so profusely about.
“Can’t even move in the morning without something aching, I’m bloody useless. If you can find a way not to grow up, boy, do it. Hang on to anything that is remotely youthful and don’t let go.”
Somehow Maxwell managed to unglue himself from the chair and make his way to the bathroom. After showering and dressing for the day he had breakfast that the maid had prepared. She offered him a shoulder rub and he gladly took her up on it. It didn’t do much to help but he was grateful.
Throughout the day he managed the factory and talked with his accountant about finances. The corporation had risen from nothing, producing only towels and face cloths, now it produced silks and many other expensive coloured fabrics. It had grown substantially throughout the war and now it would be a surprise if every household didn’t have at least one outfit made from Evans fabric.
In the afternoon his wife suggested he go to the college and meet all the employees properly. He could spare some time, so he went and in the car he briefly wondered whether or not he would run into that funny Liz girl he’d met two weeks ago.
As soon as he arrived he dreaded that he’d come. All afternoon he fluffed around with everyone constantly fawning over him—which he absolutely hated—and was very glad to be leaving at the end of the day.
He was just sliding into his car when he heard a familiar yell. Unconsciously a smile touched his mouth. “It’s Liz, isn’t it?”
“You remembered?”
“I’m good with names. I have to be with what I do. How are you?”
“Great. Would you like to give me a ride home?”
He was surprised by her guileless attitude. He didn’t meet many people like that anymore. “I could get in trouble for that.”
“I don’t have any bad intentions,” she said pleadingly.
“Okay...I suppose it would be alright. I don’t have anywhere to be just yet.”
He held the door open for her and she got in before him, sliding along the caramel-coloured leather. “Thank you so much, you’ve saved me a long walk. What is your driver’s name?”
“Angelo.”
“Hello Angelo,” she said cheerfully. “My address is twenty-three Honiton Road. Do you know where that is?”
“Sì sweet girl,” he replied. “I will find it.”
“You’re Italian! Wonderful.”
“Neanche per sogno! No way, I am not Italiano.”
Liz frowned at him and then heard Max whisper quietly in her ear, “He is ashamed of where he comes from because of their actions in the war.”
“Ohhh…” she slumped back into the seat. “That’s…odd.” Perking up even more, if that was possible, she commented, “You have a very nice car.”
“Thank you.”
They had a short silence and then Liz said, “You’re wife must be happy that you are visiting the school.”
“Yes, it makes her happy,” he replied. “So…what is it that you want to do when you’ve finished school? I take it you want more for yourself then to be a wife and mother?”
Liz explained that she had a great love of Broadway and the cinema. If she could, the one thing she would like to spend her life doing is writing reviews for all the shows and films. Max said that he too used to love viewing shows.
“My favourite movie is Only Angels Have Wings, what’s yours?”
Liz thought hard about that question. “I’m not sure, I love so many.”
“There must be one you have in mind?”
“The Awful Truth, directed by Leo McCarey, that was a good film,” she said. “Also, Citizen Kane…”
“I saw Citizen Kane,” Max's face showed he was trying to remember if he liked it or not.
Liz wondered what year he had lost his eye sight. Citizen Kane was made in 1941, so clearly he had experienced at least two years of battle. Finally, unable to help herself, she asked.
“The last year,” he replied with sadness. “In June.”
She got this feeling that he didn’t want her to apologize for that, so she didn’t. Instead, she asked him what he aspired to. This made him laugh.
“I think it’s a little late for me, don’t you think?”
“No of course not, what are you—Thirty? That’s not old.”
He smiled. “Older than you.”
“Well…yes. But sometimes it seems like everyone nice is older than me.”
He admitted that before the war he’d been interested in politics—which she thought was boring and didn’t hold back in telling him so—but his two brothers and father had all passed away in the last four years so he was left with the Evans Fabrics Factory.
“I have had my life made up for me,” he said.
She bit her lip. “Maybe you’ll be lucky and it will go bankrupt and then you will have to find something else to support you.”
“You’d consider that a good thing?” he asked with amusement.
“Sure,” she laughed.
The two of them found it very easy to talk. It was easy to slip into the comfortable state that old friends possessed. Max hadn’t even realized how long that had been driving for. Finally he asked his driver, “Angelo, are you lost?”
“No sir,” came his reply.
“How far away is your home?” Max asked Liz.
She peeked out the window and then turned her gaze back to him. “Quite far.”
“And you walk?”
“Only in the afternoons. My mother drives me in the morning.”
Max scratched his chin. “That must take you a frightfully long time.”
“Nearly an hour,” she replied. “But it’s okay.”
His expression showed his horror. “A lady should not have to walk such a distance. Do you have sisters to walk with?”
“No, I’m an only child. But it really is fine, I do not mind so much.”
“I shall just have to give you a ride regularly, shan’t I?” he offered.
“I would hate to be an inconvenience.”
“Okay, well I will only give you a ride when I am at the school for business. Alright?”
“Thank you.”
~*~
I looked especially close to make sure I had changed all the names correctly this time because so many of you caught my mistakes before lol! Thank you all for giving this a chance, I hope you liked this part
Lot's of love
~nicola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
Maxwell went to inspect his wife’s new apartment after he’d dropped Liz off. She was having afternoon tea with Hannah and they were both reading the news paper when he entered. Around them maids were emptying their belongings from chests and distributing them throughout the room.
“Oh Max, hello my dear!” Josephine jumped up and gave him a big hug. “How was the school?”
“Rather uninteresting…But I did make a friend.”
“A friend?” Hannah asked enthusiastically, “With one of the teachers?”
Max paused, “No…actually, with one of the students.”
“It’s an all girl school,” Josephine commented, “By friend, do you actually mean…?”
“I mean friend.”
Josephine and Hannah shared a questioning look.
He pulled off his jacket and sat down at the table with them. “Liz is…”
“She has a name!”
“Of course she has a name,” Max crossed his arms across his chest. “I find her to be…a breath of fresh air. She’s quite different from most people.”
“That could just be her age…” Josephine said, “Please tell me she is older than sixteen.”
“Eighteen.”
“Thank God,” Hannah moaned. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, a tea would do wonders right now.”
Josephine picked up a biscuit and chewed on it. “Come on,” she said, “tell me more.”
“Well she’s…frank. That word suits her to a T.”
“Frank,” Josephine repeated, “Okay, well that’s not always a bad quality. What else?”
“I don’t know…what would you like me to say? Perhaps what she looks like?”
“Of course not, I can judge that myself and tell you whether she’s pretty or not later. Speaking of which, I’d have to meet her of course. You should invite her around for dinner.”
“What does her appearance matter to me?” Max asked. “And of course I won’t invite her around for dinner.”
Hannah came back into the room with a cup of tea and put it in front of him. She then took a seat next to Josephine and held up the tea pot, “Josie, my love, would you like some more?”
“I’m fine dear. Why won’t you let the maids do their job?” she then turned back to her husband. “Max, why not?”
“Because she’s not that kind of friend.”
The two females moaned. “We know that. You said so already.”
“By that kind of friend, I mean I don’t know her well enough yet. You two are exhausting; I wish I’d never mentioned anything. Why don’t we change the subject?”
Hannah chuckled. “Josie, he called us exhausting.”
“Oh, he’s old beyond his years—everything is exhausting to him.” She then turned her head swiftly and said the maid, “No Margaret that painting goes in the bedroom.”
“Yes mam.”
“Thank you.”
~*~
Liz chucked her books down on the dinning room table and headed towards the kitchen. She could hear her mother talking to someone and wondered silently who was over.
It was only when she heard the word, “Handsome” that she paused her steps and decided not to announce her presence just yet. Her mother always used to call her father that.
“Come here Handsome, I want to show you what our talented daughter has drawn.”
He complained that his feet were sore but he shifted anyway, glancing over Liz’s shoulder at the sketch. He smiled appreciatively. “She’s going to be famous, isn’t she?”
“Sure is,” Samantha smiled.
Liz rested her head against the wallpaper and listened carefully.
“And I’ll have to go to the Mayor and tell him to remove your name from that war memorial statue; I told them that they should never have put it up there. I knew you’d come home eventually, you wouldn’t leave Liz and I alone. You just couldn’t.”
Liz’s heart missed a beat. Was he home? Her father! She couldn’t hold in her excitement another second and burst through the doors, “You’re here!” she exclaimed with a huge smile spreading across her face.
Samantha looked up from her cooking book. “Hello sweetheart.”
Liz searched for her fathers shape but there was no one there. Samantha was completely alone in the kitchen. Disappointment spread throughout her, but something else too.
“Samantha…” she said hesitantly, “Who were you talking to?”
“Hmm?” her mother asked absentmindedly. “I’m just making some dinner, why don’t you go and wash up?”
Liz studied her sceptically for a long moment. “But you were…?”
Samantha tottered around, pulling ingredients out of the cupboards. To herself she began muttering something, it was too quiet for Liz to understand but it frightened her nevertheless.
After a moment she left the kitchen and went to her room. Perhaps her mother had had a stressful day. That was probably it.
For the rest of the night she acted normally, a little more content than usual but nothing overly strange.
“Samantha?” Liz asked several times, “Are you okay? Was your day good?”
Each time she’d reply the same thing, like a tape recorder set on repeat.
“Yes lovey, it was fine.”
Eventually Liz gave up and went to bed. Before hoping under the covers, she went to her wardrobe and looked through all the garments checking the design labels. Finally, towards the end of the collection she found what she was looking for.
Made from Evans Fabrics.
She smiled and ran her fingers over the little embroidered tag and then placed it at the front of her things. She’d wear that tomorrow.
~*~
Liz was sitting at lunch in the courtyard of her school the next day when she saw Maxwell Evans again. He didn’t see her, obviously, but his driver was with him and she waved cheerfully in greeting anyway.
Angelo waved back and then said something to Maxwell, who turned and attempted waving as well but ended up facing the complete wrong direction.
Liz laughed to herself and was about to get up and go and talk to him when her friend Maria asked suspiciously, “What was that about? Since when are you on a waving basis with the owner of our school? And what exactly is wrong with him?”
“Would you believe me if I told you he is a friend of my mothers?” Liz didn’t know why she lied, it just came out.
“Lucky!” cried Janice, a curly red head with big hips and slight masculine voice. “He’s so handsome.”
“I’ll say.”
By now Max had continued on his way and she didn’t think it would be appropriate to catch up with him. He probably had business to do, and if she was lucky she’d catch up with him at the end of the day again. She folded her arms across her chest and turned her attention back to her friends.
“Does he come around to your house all the time and everything?” asked Maria.
“Only a couple of times,” Liz answered, not even thinking. Lying came so easy to her that she feared she could be a bad person. “Janice, can I please have some of your apple?”
“Yeah, finish it.”
“Why don’t you have your own?” Maria asked.
“Because,” Liz answered simply. “I don’t. Why don’t you have ham in your sandwich?”
“Because I don’t like it.”
“Well maybe I don’t like apples.”
“But you just asked for—”
“Oh shh!”
While in her art class that afternoon she couldn’t do anything productive because she was too busy trying to peek out the window at the car park to make sure Max hadn’t left.
“Miss Parker, I have walked past three times and you have accomplished nothing at all. What is wrong? You’re usually so busy.”
“Nothings wrong Mr. Faulk; I just can’t seem to conjure any inspiration.”
“Well try harder.”
When it was time to leave, she still hadn’t accomplished anything. She quickly packed up her things and sped out the door so that she wouldn’t be questioned further, and so that she could get to Maxwell’s car quickly.
On the way down stairs she had time to check around to make sure no teachers were present, and awkwardly hoisted herself up onto the shiny barrister. No one could stop her from her favourite after school tradition…well, perhaps a teacher, but no one else.
After giving herself a slight push, she slid wobbly down the eighty stairs to the entrance. She always felt good after that. She’d nearly perfected the right position so that she wouldn’t tilt and loose her balance.
Maxwell wasn’t at his car but Angelo was reading a book in the driver’s seat. She tugged open the passenger door and slid in beside him. “Hello Angelo,” she said—as if he’d always been a chum of hers. “How are you this afternoon?”
“Miss Parker,” he put down his book on the steering wheel and offered her a polite smile. “I’m fine, and you?”
“Can’t complain. Where is Mr. Evans, is he due back soon?”
“I wouldn’t know certainly, but I don’t mind the company if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Of course I’ll keep you company,” she said. “How long have you been driving Mr. Evans?”
“Which one?” he smiled. “I have driven Maxwell’s father for many years before he passed from this planet.”
“Oh yes? How did he die?”
“Cancer in his lungs, I believe.”
Suddenly there was a knock on the window and Liz turned to see Maria staring at her enquiringly. As soon as she’d wound down the window Maria asked, “What are you doing? Are you walking home?”
“No,” Liz replied. “I’m going to get a ride.”
“Oh,” Maria seemed reluctant to move. “May I have a ride too?” she looked at Angelo now.
“No. Go away.”
Suddenly there was a slight laughter. “Liz, that’s not a nice way to speak to your friend.”
Maxwell suddenly turned up behind Maria out of no where and introduced himself to her. Liz rolled her eyes and felt jealousy surge through her veins. It was amplified when Maxwell said that they’d gladly drive her home and the two went to slide onto the back seat.
“You can have the front seat Maria,” Liz quickly said and opened the door.
“No, I’ll be fine in the back thank you.”
Angelo raised his eyebrows at her and Liz looked at him for understanding. He gave it with a kind wink and then started the engine.
“How are you Liz?” Max asked.
Suddenly she felt better. “Good Max, thank you. And guess what? I’m wearing a Evans Fabrics blouse today.”
He chuckled. “You are? Not for my sake I hope.”
“Of course not,” she teased, “It’s the nicest item in my closet.”
“I’m glad to hear it, thank you.”
She opened her mouth to say more when suddenly Maria intercepted and flirtatiously thanked Max for the ride. Apparently she was so grateful. He asked if she lived as far as Liz and she replied no and explained that she normally caught the bus.
“Who is it in the car that smells of oil?”
“That would be Liz,” Maria explained. “She works with oil paints all afternoon and positively reeks!”
“Thanks,” Liz grumbled.
“That’s right; she’s an artist, yes? If only I could see some of your work Liz.”
She turned to look at him. “I’m afraid it’s not all that great, you aren’t missing much.”
“You’re being modest! Mr. Evans she’s being modest, don’t listen to a word she’s saying. She’s extremely talented. Her art work is the best in the classroom.”
“Liz doesn’t seem the type to be modest,” Max commented.
“Only when it comes to her artwork.”
Max now turned his face to the front of the car. “Liz, my wife is a great collector of paintings, I’m sure she’d be interested in seeing them.”
“If she likes, I will show her," Liz replied.
“I’ll tell her that, but I dread you meeting her. She’s incredibly…”
Angelo piped up, “Sir, I believe the word you’re looking is probing.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Maria said, “Do you always speak so kindly of your wife, Mr. Evans?”
Everyone laughed at that, except Liz who was too busy counting the minutes until Maria would be dropped off and she could have her turn on the backseat.
~*~
Hey everyone, hope you enjoyed this one! Thanks os much for the Feedback! *kisses*
~nicola
“Oh Max, hello my dear!” Josephine jumped up and gave him a big hug. “How was the school?”
“Rather uninteresting…But I did make a friend.”
“A friend?” Hannah asked enthusiastically, “With one of the teachers?”
Max paused, “No…actually, with one of the students.”
“It’s an all girl school,” Josephine commented, “By friend, do you actually mean…?”
“I mean friend.”
Josephine and Hannah shared a questioning look.
He pulled off his jacket and sat down at the table with them. “Liz is…”
“She has a name!”
“Of course she has a name,” Max crossed his arms across his chest. “I find her to be…a breath of fresh air. She’s quite different from most people.”
“That could just be her age…” Josephine said, “Please tell me she is older than sixteen.”
“Eighteen.”
“Thank God,” Hannah moaned. “Can I get you a drink?”
“Yes, a tea would do wonders right now.”
Josephine picked up a biscuit and chewed on it. “Come on,” she said, “tell me more.”
“Well she’s…frank. That word suits her to a T.”
“Frank,” Josephine repeated, “Okay, well that’s not always a bad quality. What else?”
“I don’t know…what would you like me to say? Perhaps what she looks like?”
“Of course not, I can judge that myself and tell you whether she’s pretty or not later. Speaking of which, I’d have to meet her of course. You should invite her around for dinner.”
“What does her appearance matter to me?” Max asked. “And of course I won’t invite her around for dinner.”
Hannah came back into the room with a cup of tea and put it in front of him. She then took a seat next to Josephine and held up the tea pot, “Josie, my love, would you like some more?”
“I’m fine dear. Why won’t you let the maids do their job?” she then turned back to her husband. “Max, why not?”
“Because she’s not that kind of friend.”
The two females moaned. “We know that. You said so already.”
“By that kind of friend, I mean I don’t know her well enough yet. You two are exhausting; I wish I’d never mentioned anything. Why don’t we change the subject?”
Hannah chuckled. “Josie, he called us exhausting.”
“Oh, he’s old beyond his years—everything is exhausting to him.” She then turned her head swiftly and said the maid, “No Margaret that painting goes in the bedroom.”
“Yes mam.”
“Thank you.”
~*~
Liz chucked her books down on the dinning room table and headed towards the kitchen. She could hear her mother talking to someone and wondered silently who was over.
It was only when she heard the word, “Handsome” that she paused her steps and decided not to announce her presence just yet. Her mother always used to call her father that.
“Come here Handsome, I want to show you what our talented daughter has drawn.”
He complained that his feet were sore but he shifted anyway, glancing over Liz’s shoulder at the sketch. He smiled appreciatively. “She’s going to be famous, isn’t she?”
“Sure is,” Samantha smiled.
Liz rested her head against the wallpaper and listened carefully.
“And I’ll have to go to the Mayor and tell him to remove your name from that war memorial statue; I told them that they should never have put it up there. I knew you’d come home eventually, you wouldn’t leave Liz and I alone. You just couldn’t.”
Liz’s heart missed a beat. Was he home? Her father! She couldn’t hold in her excitement another second and burst through the doors, “You’re here!” she exclaimed with a huge smile spreading across her face.
Samantha looked up from her cooking book. “Hello sweetheart.”
Liz searched for her fathers shape but there was no one there. Samantha was completely alone in the kitchen. Disappointment spread throughout her, but something else too.
“Samantha…” she said hesitantly, “Who were you talking to?”
“Hmm?” her mother asked absentmindedly. “I’m just making some dinner, why don’t you go and wash up?”
Liz studied her sceptically for a long moment. “But you were…?”
Samantha tottered around, pulling ingredients out of the cupboards. To herself she began muttering something, it was too quiet for Liz to understand but it frightened her nevertheless.
After a moment she left the kitchen and went to her room. Perhaps her mother had had a stressful day. That was probably it.
For the rest of the night she acted normally, a little more content than usual but nothing overly strange.
“Samantha?” Liz asked several times, “Are you okay? Was your day good?”
Each time she’d reply the same thing, like a tape recorder set on repeat.
“Yes lovey, it was fine.”
Eventually Liz gave up and went to bed. Before hoping under the covers, she went to her wardrobe and looked through all the garments checking the design labels. Finally, towards the end of the collection she found what she was looking for.
Made from Evans Fabrics.
She smiled and ran her fingers over the little embroidered tag and then placed it at the front of her things. She’d wear that tomorrow.
~*~
Liz was sitting at lunch in the courtyard of her school the next day when she saw Maxwell Evans again. He didn’t see her, obviously, but his driver was with him and she waved cheerfully in greeting anyway.
Angelo waved back and then said something to Maxwell, who turned and attempted waving as well but ended up facing the complete wrong direction.
Liz laughed to herself and was about to get up and go and talk to him when her friend Maria asked suspiciously, “What was that about? Since when are you on a waving basis with the owner of our school? And what exactly is wrong with him?”
“Would you believe me if I told you he is a friend of my mothers?” Liz didn’t know why she lied, it just came out.
“Lucky!” cried Janice, a curly red head with big hips and slight masculine voice. “He’s so handsome.”
“I’ll say.”
By now Max had continued on his way and she didn’t think it would be appropriate to catch up with him. He probably had business to do, and if she was lucky she’d catch up with him at the end of the day again. She folded her arms across her chest and turned her attention back to her friends.
“Does he come around to your house all the time and everything?” asked Maria.
“Only a couple of times,” Liz answered, not even thinking. Lying came so easy to her that she feared she could be a bad person. “Janice, can I please have some of your apple?”
“Yeah, finish it.”
“Why don’t you have your own?” Maria asked.
“Because,” Liz answered simply. “I don’t. Why don’t you have ham in your sandwich?”
“Because I don’t like it.”
“Well maybe I don’t like apples.”
“But you just asked for—”
“Oh shh!”
While in her art class that afternoon she couldn’t do anything productive because she was too busy trying to peek out the window at the car park to make sure Max hadn’t left.
“Miss Parker, I have walked past three times and you have accomplished nothing at all. What is wrong? You’re usually so busy.”
“Nothings wrong Mr. Faulk; I just can’t seem to conjure any inspiration.”
“Well try harder.”
When it was time to leave, she still hadn’t accomplished anything. She quickly packed up her things and sped out the door so that she wouldn’t be questioned further, and so that she could get to Maxwell’s car quickly.
On the way down stairs she had time to check around to make sure no teachers were present, and awkwardly hoisted herself up onto the shiny barrister. No one could stop her from her favourite after school tradition…well, perhaps a teacher, but no one else.
After giving herself a slight push, she slid wobbly down the eighty stairs to the entrance. She always felt good after that. She’d nearly perfected the right position so that she wouldn’t tilt and loose her balance.
Maxwell wasn’t at his car but Angelo was reading a book in the driver’s seat. She tugged open the passenger door and slid in beside him. “Hello Angelo,” she said—as if he’d always been a chum of hers. “How are you this afternoon?”
“Miss Parker,” he put down his book on the steering wheel and offered her a polite smile. “I’m fine, and you?”
“Can’t complain. Where is Mr. Evans, is he due back soon?”
“I wouldn’t know certainly, but I don’t mind the company if you don’t mind waiting.”
“Of course I’ll keep you company,” she said. “How long have you been driving Mr. Evans?”
“Which one?” he smiled. “I have driven Maxwell’s father for many years before he passed from this planet.”
“Oh yes? How did he die?”
“Cancer in his lungs, I believe.”
Suddenly there was a knock on the window and Liz turned to see Maria staring at her enquiringly. As soon as she’d wound down the window Maria asked, “What are you doing? Are you walking home?”
“No,” Liz replied. “I’m going to get a ride.”
“Oh,” Maria seemed reluctant to move. “May I have a ride too?” she looked at Angelo now.
“No. Go away.”
Suddenly there was a slight laughter. “Liz, that’s not a nice way to speak to your friend.”
Maxwell suddenly turned up behind Maria out of no where and introduced himself to her. Liz rolled her eyes and felt jealousy surge through her veins. It was amplified when Maxwell said that they’d gladly drive her home and the two went to slide onto the back seat.
“You can have the front seat Maria,” Liz quickly said and opened the door.
“No, I’ll be fine in the back thank you.”
Angelo raised his eyebrows at her and Liz looked at him for understanding. He gave it with a kind wink and then started the engine.
“How are you Liz?” Max asked.
Suddenly she felt better. “Good Max, thank you. And guess what? I’m wearing a Evans Fabrics blouse today.”
He chuckled. “You are? Not for my sake I hope.”
“Of course not,” she teased, “It’s the nicest item in my closet.”
“I’m glad to hear it, thank you.”
She opened her mouth to say more when suddenly Maria intercepted and flirtatiously thanked Max for the ride. Apparently she was so grateful. He asked if she lived as far as Liz and she replied no and explained that she normally caught the bus.
“Who is it in the car that smells of oil?”
“That would be Liz,” Maria explained. “She works with oil paints all afternoon and positively reeks!”
“Thanks,” Liz grumbled.
“That’s right; she’s an artist, yes? If only I could see some of your work Liz.”
She turned to look at him. “I’m afraid it’s not all that great, you aren’t missing much.”
“You’re being modest! Mr. Evans she’s being modest, don’t listen to a word she’s saying. She’s extremely talented. Her art work is the best in the classroom.”
“Liz doesn’t seem the type to be modest,” Max commented.
“Only when it comes to her artwork.”
Max now turned his face to the front of the car. “Liz, my wife is a great collector of paintings, I’m sure she’d be interested in seeing them.”
“If she likes, I will show her," Liz replied.
“I’ll tell her that, but I dread you meeting her. She’s incredibly…”
Angelo piped up, “Sir, I believe the word you’re looking is probing.”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
Maria said, “Do you always speak so kindly of your wife, Mr. Evans?”
Everyone laughed at that, except Liz who was too busy counting the minutes until Maria would be dropped off and she could have her turn on the backseat.
~*~
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~nicola
Last edited by nicola on Mon Jul 19, 2004 4:12 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Maxwell was lost in his thoughts. It was just after midday and he was standing in his office overlooking the factory floor. He could not see his busy employees but it brought him a strange sort of comfort to hear the clink of the machines and the tread of boots on concrete.
Suddenly the peace was broken by the sound of his wife’s voice outside the door.
“Is my husband in?”
Quickly, before she could enter he gulped down the rest of the whisky in his glass and hid all evidence in the cupboard of his desk.
It didn’t help. Somehow she always knew. The first thing she said after she’d closed the door was, “Drinking at work, Max? That’s not very professional.”
“I wasn’t drinking,” he lied.
“Drinking and lying at work. Tsk, tsk.”
Somehow he felt like he could match her if he was sitting behind his desk, so after he’d succeeded in finding his chair he sunk back into the leather. “Josie, what brings you to my office this afternoon?”
“Must I always have a reason for wanting to see you?”
“Once you just admit that you’re checking up on me then I’ll stop asking.”
She rested her hip on the desk and he could just imagine her crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t be difficult. I just thought I’d stop by.”
“And…?”
She sighed in resignation. “And…I wanted to make sure you are going to your Psychiatrist at one.”
He laughed. “I told you, I don’t need therapy anymore. I’m sleeping fine. Like a baby in fact.”
“You do not,” she retorted angrily. “You’re a fibber! I will drive you there myself if I have to.”
“Please don’t, I’ll gladly go if you don’t cause a scene.”
“Don’t look so horrified, how often do I embarrass you?” she paused, studying him and then continued by saying, “I can imagine what instances you’re conjuring up right now and I’m going to tell you right now that I won’t stand for it.”
Maxwell pressed his lips together. “I’ll go to the appointment, alright?”
“Good boy.”
As if that comment didn’t disgust him enough, she had to pat his head to make it that much worse.
“I’m going to afternoon tea now. With Wanda Bruni, of all people! Do you remember her? She’s so dour now that her husbands dead, no fun whatsoever.”
“I wonder why that is,” Maxwell shook his head in wonder. “How does Hannah put up with you? I certainly couldn’t again.”
“You’re just so funny!” she laughed without any humour whatsoever. “Have a good afternoon my sweety pie.”
“Goodbye.”
“No more drinking, alright?”
“I promise.”
After she’d left he instantly poured himself another whisky and glumly swallowed it down. Only after he’d finished its entire contents did he call to have his car brought around.
It was going to be a long, horrible afternoon and he’d have to do all he could to make it all that better. Perhaps he’d go see Liz, she could cheer him up. She was possibly the only person he knew that didn’t nag him.
His psychiatrist asked him about her.
“Let me guess, my wife’s been to see you?”
“Well…no.”
“When?” Maxwell asked more sternly.
“The other day. She simply mentioned that you’d made a new friend and that you were quite fond of her.”
“I am, yes. She’s a nice girl. Now, may we talk about something else?”
“Okay.” After writing down something on his pad he asked, “How is your insomnia?”
“It’s fine, thank you.”
His psychiatrist studied him for a long moment. “You’re not usually this…sardonic Maxwell. Have you been drinking?”
“I may have had a couple of glasses.”
“Is it quite common for you to drink with lunch?”
Maxwell shifted one of the cushions so it was on his lap. He spread his fingers out, feeling the light lumps of embroidery decorating it and decided it had a diamond pattern. “Not so common,” he finally answered. “Little diamonds, big diamonds?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Ah,” Maxwell smiled in satisfaction and then put the cushion back in its spot. “Now…you’ll forgive me, but what is the purpose of continuing our meeting?”
“Do you not wish to?”
“My father would have found the idea of therapy a very feminine thing to partake in.”
“Do you often let your fathers opinion affect your actions?”
Maxwell tilted his head to the side and thought about it. “I suppose I do, yes. He was very domineering, just like my wife is. She’s why I’m here, I’ve lost all independence.”
His psychiatrist found that amusing and smiled. “Do you worry that her dominance affects your masculinity?”
Maxwell smiled. “No, just my pride. Thank goodness.”
“Do you wish for her to give you some space?”
“Occasionally.”
“Shall I suggest it to her?” he asked.
Maxwell crossed one of his legs over the other and leaned back into the divan. “I thought our meeting was confidential?”
“I will mention only what you wish me to. Is space something you think you might benefit from?”
“Perhaps?” Maxwell didn’t know. Couldn’t they decide for him? “If you feel it is right, then mention whatever you like.”
He was very happy to leave twenty minutes later. When he got in the car he sat with his head back on the cool leather for a long time, with his eyes closed.
Angelo finally asked, “Are we to visit the school? They will just be letting out.”
“Do you think it would be wrong?”
“No signor,” Angelo replied. “I am to enjoy signora Liz a lot, as you do.”
~*~
Liz waved her hand in front of Maxwell’s face. He felt the air currents and seemed amused by her.
“I look gorgeous today,” she said, but her voice was lifeless and dull. “Not that you’d know.”
“You do, do you? Angelo, does Liz look gorgeous today?”
“Sì, signor. Stupendo.”
“Then I am grievous indeed.” He had a light heart already and they’d been in the car barely five minutes. “How is your friend Maria? That is her name, hmm?”
“Oh,” she sighed, “alright, I suppose. Why is it you haven’t stopped by in the last few days?”
“I’ve been busy,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”
They continued to talk about her school and his work but Maxwell noticed that she wasn’t as animated as usual. “You seem…sad, has something happened?”
“No,” she answered—too quickly.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” she offered a grim smile, as if he could see it. “Do I smell like paint?”
“No,” he replied. “Liz…please…do tell me what is wrong.”
She rang her hands together on her lap. “I…I, just don’t want to go home.”
“Did something happen?”
“Not really…it’s probably nothing. Just forget it.”
Maxwell considered pressing further but worried that their friendship was too new for him to try and involve himself in a family problem. “What can I do to cheer you up?” he asked instead, “How about we go to the cinema?”
“But you—” she paused and thought, if he wants to go to the cinema, let him. “Alright. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir has just started, how do you feel about Gene Tierney and Rex Harrison?”
“Gene Tierney was absolutely beautiful in Belle Starr; I think I could quite enjoy listening and imagining her for the next hour.”
“Every male I’ve met loves Gene Tierney,” Liz commented.
“How could they not? Is she half as gorgeous as she was four years ago?”
“Well I don’t know, I suppose so.”
Throughout the film Liz made a habit of whispering what was going on to Maxwell in the silent parts. He smiled and nodded every time she did it.
“Oh, you should just see the expression on Laura’s face right now!” she cried, “It’s priceless, she’s absolutely horrified.”
Maxwell laughed.
He could tell that she really was as avid film-viewer by the way she sat incredibly still and didn’t fidget or move around in her seat. She was so entrapped by what was on the screen that it didn’t matter if she had to endure a little discomfort.
He could just picture her eyes glued to the screen and her hands clasped tightly on her lap. Her incredible happiness almost justified the strangeness of a blind man visiting the cinema. He was glad that his attempt to cheer her up had worked.
When they were walking out the exit she couldn’t stop talking about it. “Oh, and didn’t you just love it when Mr. Coombe said: ‘In my opinion, you are the most obstinate young woman I have ever met,’ and Lucy replied, ‘Thank you, Mr. Coombe! I've always wanted to be considered obstinate...’ That was wonderful.”
Maxwell found her delight contagious. “Don’t you just love Gene?”
She huffed dramatically. “I suppose she’s nice enough.”
“No, no! She’s fantastic!”
In the car Liz dreaded the thought of going home. She was just about to beg Maxwell to take her somewhere else when he asked if she was hungry and wanted to get something to eat.
“I’m not dressed so appropriate…” she bit her lip.
“I’m sure you are. But if you are embarrassed, we won’t go anywhere fancy.”
“Alright. Angelo, take us somewhere that is not so fancy.”
~*~
They didn’t order a meal; Liz insisted that they have nothing but dessert. They ordered two different types of sweets and then took their seats.
It wasn’t until nearly the end of their ‘meals’ did Maxwell ask, “Liz…what do you look like?”
She looked up from the dessert she was eating and smiled. “What do you imagine I look like?”
He titled his head to the side and thought about it. He always did that. “I really don’t know.”
“You must.”
“No, I haven’t any expectations whatsoever.”
She could tell that he really didn’t either. “Wow.”
Without saying anything, she shifted to the chair next to him and grabbed his hands. In a way that left him speechless she lifted his palms to cup the curves of her face and with lead from her own, rubbed his fingers over her eye brows and down her cheeks. She left no spot untouched, including her supple lips and round chin.
“That’s how you know, isn’t it?”
He gulped. “I suppose so.”
“Do you think you have a good idea now?”
“What colour is your hair?” he asked and let his fingers return to her eyebrows.
“Dark Brown.”
“Your eyes?”
“Same.”
His fingers graced her cheeks again. “Skin? Freckles?”
She paused. “Pale, no freckles.”
A smile broke out across his face. “I think I may have a good idea now.”
“So you can stop all that wondering, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah, sure.”
“Is your cake good?” she asked.
“So wonderful, would you like a taste?”
“No,” she exhaled loudly, “I’m so full! I constantly have the problem of ordering more than I can eat. You enjoy it.”
“Okay…Is your mother going to have a problem with you coming home so late?”
At the mention of her mother Liz stopped smiling. “No, I’m sure she won’t mind at all.”
~*~
Hey all, thank you so much for the fb!!! Hope you liked this part
Suddenly the peace was broken by the sound of his wife’s voice outside the door.
“Is my husband in?”
Quickly, before she could enter he gulped down the rest of the whisky in his glass and hid all evidence in the cupboard of his desk.
It didn’t help. Somehow she always knew. The first thing she said after she’d closed the door was, “Drinking at work, Max? That’s not very professional.”
“I wasn’t drinking,” he lied.
“Drinking and lying at work. Tsk, tsk.”
Somehow he felt like he could match her if he was sitting behind his desk, so after he’d succeeded in finding his chair he sunk back into the leather. “Josie, what brings you to my office this afternoon?”
“Must I always have a reason for wanting to see you?”
“Once you just admit that you’re checking up on me then I’ll stop asking.”
She rested her hip on the desk and he could just imagine her crossing her arms over her chest. “Don’t be difficult. I just thought I’d stop by.”
“And…?”
She sighed in resignation. “And…I wanted to make sure you are going to your Psychiatrist at one.”
He laughed. “I told you, I don’t need therapy anymore. I’m sleeping fine. Like a baby in fact.”
“You do not,” she retorted angrily. “You’re a fibber! I will drive you there myself if I have to.”
“Please don’t, I’ll gladly go if you don’t cause a scene.”
“Don’t look so horrified, how often do I embarrass you?” she paused, studying him and then continued by saying, “I can imagine what instances you’re conjuring up right now and I’m going to tell you right now that I won’t stand for it.”
Maxwell pressed his lips together. “I’ll go to the appointment, alright?”
“Good boy.”
As if that comment didn’t disgust him enough, she had to pat his head to make it that much worse.
“I’m going to afternoon tea now. With Wanda Bruni, of all people! Do you remember her? She’s so dour now that her husbands dead, no fun whatsoever.”
“I wonder why that is,” Maxwell shook his head in wonder. “How does Hannah put up with you? I certainly couldn’t again.”
“You’re just so funny!” she laughed without any humour whatsoever. “Have a good afternoon my sweety pie.”
“Goodbye.”
“No more drinking, alright?”
“I promise.”
After she’d left he instantly poured himself another whisky and glumly swallowed it down. Only after he’d finished its entire contents did he call to have his car brought around.
It was going to be a long, horrible afternoon and he’d have to do all he could to make it all that better. Perhaps he’d go see Liz, she could cheer him up. She was possibly the only person he knew that didn’t nag him.
His psychiatrist asked him about her.
“Let me guess, my wife’s been to see you?”
“Well…no.”
“When?” Maxwell asked more sternly.
“The other day. She simply mentioned that you’d made a new friend and that you were quite fond of her.”
“I am, yes. She’s a nice girl. Now, may we talk about something else?”
“Okay.” After writing down something on his pad he asked, “How is your insomnia?”
“It’s fine, thank you.”
His psychiatrist studied him for a long moment. “You’re not usually this…sardonic Maxwell. Have you been drinking?”
“I may have had a couple of glasses.”
“Is it quite common for you to drink with lunch?”
Maxwell shifted one of the cushions so it was on his lap. He spread his fingers out, feeling the light lumps of embroidery decorating it and decided it had a diamond pattern. “Not so common,” he finally answered. “Little diamonds, big diamonds?”
“Yes,” he answered.
“Ah,” Maxwell smiled in satisfaction and then put the cushion back in its spot. “Now…you’ll forgive me, but what is the purpose of continuing our meeting?”
“Do you not wish to?”
“My father would have found the idea of therapy a very feminine thing to partake in.”
“Do you often let your fathers opinion affect your actions?”
Maxwell tilted his head to the side and thought about it. “I suppose I do, yes. He was very domineering, just like my wife is. She’s why I’m here, I’ve lost all independence.”
His psychiatrist found that amusing and smiled. “Do you worry that her dominance affects your masculinity?”
Maxwell smiled. “No, just my pride. Thank goodness.”
“Do you wish for her to give you some space?”
“Occasionally.”
“Shall I suggest it to her?” he asked.
Maxwell crossed one of his legs over the other and leaned back into the divan. “I thought our meeting was confidential?”
“I will mention only what you wish me to. Is space something you think you might benefit from?”
“Perhaps?” Maxwell didn’t know. Couldn’t they decide for him? “If you feel it is right, then mention whatever you like.”
He was very happy to leave twenty minutes later. When he got in the car he sat with his head back on the cool leather for a long time, with his eyes closed.
Angelo finally asked, “Are we to visit the school? They will just be letting out.”
“Do you think it would be wrong?”
“No signor,” Angelo replied. “I am to enjoy signora Liz a lot, as you do.”
~*~
Liz waved her hand in front of Maxwell’s face. He felt the air currents and seemed amused by her.
“I look gorgeous today,” she said, but her voice was lifeless and dull. “Not that you’d know.”
“You do, do you? Angelo, does Liz look gorgeous today?”
“Sì, signor. Stupendo.”
“Then I am grievous indeed.” He had a light heart already and they’d been in the car barely five minutes. “How is your friend Maria? That is her name, hmm?”
“Oh,” she sighed, “alright, I suppose. Why is it you haven’t stopped by in the last few days?”
“I’ve been busy,” he replied. “I’m sorry.”
They continued to talk about her school and his work but Maxwell noticed that she wasn’t as animated as usual. “You seem…sad, has something happened?”
“No,” she answered—too quickly.
“Are you sure?”
“Of course,” she offered a grim smile, as if he could see it. “Do I smell like paint?”
“No,” he replied. “Liz…please…do tell me what is wrong.”
She rang her hands together on her lap. “I…I, just don’t want to go home.”
“Did something happen?”
“Not really…it’s probably nothing. Just forget it.”
Maxwell considered pressing further but worried that their friendship was too new for him to try and involve himself in a family problem. “What can I do to cheer you up?” he asked instead, “How about we go to the cinema?”
“But you—” she paused and thought, if he wants to go to the cinema, let him. “Alright. The Ghost and Mrs. Muir has just started, how do you feel about Gene Tierney and Rex Harrison?”
“Gene Tierney was absolutely beautiful in Belle Starr; I think I could quite enjoy listening and imagining her for the next hour.”
“Every male I’ve met loves Gene Tierney,” Liz commented.
“How could they not? Is she half as gorgeous as she was four years ago?”
“Well I don’t know, I suppose so.”
Throughout the film Liz made a habit of whispering what was going on to Maxwell in the silent parts. He smiled and nodded every time she did it.
“Oh, you should just see the expression on Laura’s face right now!” she cried, “It’s priceless, she’s absolutely horrified.”
Maxwell laughed.
He could tell that she really was as avid film-viewer by the way she sat incredibly still and didn’t fidget or move around in her seat. She was so entrapped by what was on the screen that it didn’t matter if she had to endure a little discomfort.
He could just picture her eyes glued to the screen and her hands clasped tightly on her lap. Her incredible happiness almost justified the strangeness of a blind man visiting the cinema. He was glad that his attempt to cheer her up had worked.
When they were walking out the exit she couldn’t stop talking about it. “Oh, and didn’t you just love it when Mr. Coombe said: ‘In my opinion, you are the most obstinate young woman I have ever met,’ and Lucy replied, ‘Thank you, Mr. Coombe! I've always wanted to be considered obstinate...’ That was wonderful.”
Maxwell found her delight contagious. “Don’t you just love Gene?”
She huffed dramatically. “I suppose she’s nice enough.”
“No, no! She’s fantastic!”
In the car Liz dreaded the thought of going home. She was just about to beg Maxwell to take her somewhere else when he asked if she was hungry and wanted to get something to eat.
“I’m not dressed so appropriate…” she bit her lip.
“I’m sure you are. But if you are embarrassed, we won’t go anywhere fancy.”
“Alright. Angelo, take us somewhere that is not so fancy.”
~*~
They didn’t order a meal; Liz insisted that they have nothing but dessert. They ordered two different types of sweets and then took their seats.
It wasn’t until nearly the end of their ‘meals’ did Maxwell ask, “Liz…what do you look like?”
She looked up from the dessert she was eating and smiled. “What do you imagine I look like?”
He titled his head to the side and thought about it. He always did that. “I really don’t know.”
“You must.”
“No, I haven’t any expectations whatsoever.”
She could tell that he really didn’t either. “Wow.”
Without saying anything, she shifted to the chair next to him and grabbed his hands. In a way that left him speechless she lifted his palms to cup the curves of her face and with lead from her own, rubbed his fingers over her eye brows and down her cheeks. She left no spot untouched, including her supple lips and round chin.
“That’s how you know, isn’t it?”
He gulped. “I suppose so.”
“Do you think you have a good idea now?”
“What colour is your hair?” he asked and let his fingers return to her eyebrows.
“Dark Brown.”
“Your eyes?”
“Same.”
His fingers graced her cheeks again. “Skin? Freckles?”
She paused. “Pale, no freckles.”
A smile broke out across his face. “I think I may have a good idea now.”
“So you can stop all that wondering, right?”
He laughed. “Yeah, sure.”
“Is your cake good?” she asked.
“So wonderful, would you like a taste?”
“No,” she exhaled loudly, “I’m so full! I constantly have the problem of ordering more than I can eat. You enjoy it.”
“Okay…Is your mother going to have a problem with you coming home so late?”
At the mention of her mother Liz stopped smiling. “No, I’m sure she won’t mind at all.”
~*~
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OKaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaY Here's the FIXED version! lol!!!
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“Ah, Mr. Evans. Someone told me you were here; may I please have a word?”
Maxwell turned his attention away from the school’s accountant when he heard the principal’s voice. After bad experiences with his own principal in school, he was always uneasy around them.
“Of course,” he said and used his cane to help him to his feet. “In your office?”
“Yes, please.”
Mr. Bennet put his hand on Maxwell’s back to lead the way and then closed the door behind them.
“I didn’t want to say anything, but I assured one of the teachers that I would. She wanted a peace of mind you see.”
They both took and seat, Mr. Bennet behind his daunting desk and Mr. Evans in front of it.
“Oh yes?” Maxwell guessed what he was going to say before he even got to the point.
“She was just concerned because she saw one of our seniors getting into your car a while ago, and a couple of instances later.”
“What would you like me to say?” he asked.
“I simply wondered if this information was correct.”
“I have been giving Elizabeth Parker a ride home, if that is who you are referring to. I do not see a problem with this.”
“There is no problem,” Mr. Bennet assured him. There was no way he could insult the man who had already improved the schools financial situation drastically. “As I said, one of the teachers made me guarantee that I’d enquire after it. She seemed to think it was rather unorthodox…”
“And what of your opinion, sir?” Maxwell asked. “Do you believe it to be unorthodox or are you making sure not to tread on thin ice by staying on the bank?”
“I must admit that I was rather curious as to why you would have singled out Miss Parker.”
“I have not ‘singled out’ Miss Parker. If you must know as to what is going on, I will tell you. Liz—I mean Elizabeth—and I met previously…before I became involved in the school…and she was rather distressed. I have been concerned for her well-being and have set out personally to make sure that she is okay.”
“Why Miss Parker, distressed! Are we talking about the same person? Miss Elizabeth Parker? She is hardly one to be concerned about. So full of life, so…”
“I know exactly what you mean, of course.” Maxwell scratched his chin. “But would you like to know how I came to meet her?”
“Well, I’m intrigued now.”
“She was sitting on the street, crying her eyes out.”
Mr. Bennet frowned. “What on earth for?”
“I’m unsure.”
The two sat in silence for a long moment and then Mr. Bennet stood from his chair. “Mr. Evans, I’m again astounded by your kindness and disposition. Your compassion is amazing.”
Maxwell sighed. He really didn’t want the principal to go on like this. He was embarrassed for him. “Thank you, but really I’ve done nothing…”
“Oh but you have!”
“No, really. Elizabeth has probably done more for me than I have done for her. Now…may I be excused?”
“Of course, of course. I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”
~*~
Maria looked up from her book when Elizabeth re-entered the classroom. She instantly whispered to her, “What’s wrong?”
It wasn’t every day that one of them was taken out of a lesson to speak to the principal.
“Nothings wrong,” Liz sighed. She took a seat and wrapped her arms around her chest. The pout wouldn’t leave her mouth. “Actually…yes, there is. You know Maxwell Windsor?”
“Yeah, how could I forget?”
“Mr. Bennet wanted to discuss my relationship with him. Something about wanting to inform me that counselling was available if I wished to talk to someone about my ‘problems’. He said it wasn’t ‘orthodox’ to bother the schools benefactor.”
“Why would you need counselling?” Maria asked in surprise.
“I don’t know! I suppose we’ll have to ask Mr. Evans, he’s the one who said he’d been concerned about my well-being. Can you believe that? He’s been doing nothing but pitying me this whole time. Here I was, thinking we were friends—”
“I’m sure it’s not just pity,” Maria argued. She put her hand on her friends arm. “You are friends; he probably just didn’t know how to ask you if you were okay.”
“But he went to the principal Maria! Who does that?”
“I think it’s a good sign, I think it shows that he cares.”
“I don’t,” Liz groaned. “And I’m so angry.”
Maria studied her for a long moment. “But what reason does he have to be concerned anyway? Are you sure there isn’t something you’re not telling me?”
“There’s nothing I’m not telling you, okay? Just stop thinking about it.”
After school Maxwell was waiting in his car for her but she strode straight past and off down the street. She didn’t want to see him right now.
Suddenly he called out after her. “Liz?”
Angelo must have told him she’d gone past.
“I don’t want a ride today,” she simply called back and then kept walking. A few minutes later the car pulled up along side her.
“Angelo tells me it looks like rain,” Maxwell said, a smile on his face.
“I don’t care; I’d rather get wet than take rides from stupid blind men who have no idea what they’re talking about!”
“Why do I think you aren’t simply talking about the weather now?”
She stopped walking and turned to face him with her arms over her chest. “Of course I’m not talking about the flipping weather. Tell me, if I was such a bother laying all my ‘problems’ on you, why didn’t you just say so? I would have taken the hint. You didn’t need to get my principal involved.”
Maxwell swallowed. “Why don’t you hop in the car and we’ll talk about this rationally.”
“Get in the car with you?” she asked. “Never again. You can leave me alone, that’s what you can do.”
To her surprise, he did leave her alone. He told Angelo to speed up and they left. Just like that.
That made her realize that he didn’t care enough to fight with her and her heart sunk. In fact, she found herself on the verge of tears. She had been nearly certain that there would be a reasonable explanation for his ‘chat’ with the principal, now she knew that there wasn’t.
What a bastard.
An hour walk was a long time for her to vent her anger but it still was not enough. She continued cursing and stamping her feet even as she rounded the corner to her street. Her irritation distracted her so much that it wasn’t until at her letterbox that she realized Maxwell’s fancy 1946 Lincoln Zephyr was parked in the drive way. It made her mother’s old cream Pontaic Sedan look even more beat up.
Inside the house, Samantha was sitting in the lounge with the two men drinking tea. Liz was infuriated even more by the sight of their familiarity and stormed past them all straight to her room. After slamming the door childishly she threw herself down on the bed and buried her face in her pillow. She didn’t care how juvenile she was acting. As long as they all got the point.
“Perhaps I should go speak to her?” Samantha went to get up from her chair.
“No, no,” Maxwell bet her to it. “I will, after all it is me that she’s angry at. Will you show me the way?”
“Of course.”
Outside her door she whispered, “Good luck, when she gets like this she can be so stubborn!”
Maxwell knocked on the door. “Liz? May I come in and speak to you?”
“Only if it’s to apologize,” came her reply.
“Of course. I would greatly appreciate the chance.”
She opened the door and took his wrist to tug him inside. Before closing the door she shot a dismissive look at her mother who was leaning against the opposite wall with her arms crossed over her chest.
“It smells like honey in here,” Maxwell commented.
“Does it? I don’t notice.”
Liz went and got her desk chair for him and then sat down on the end of her bed.
“I’m sorry that your principal said something to you about my talk with him. I honestly did not know that he would.”
“Why did you talk with him about me anyway?”
Maxwell swallowed. “He simply requested to know about the nature of our meetings. I assured him that you were my friend. He found that strange for some reason…”
“And you told him I was distressed? I am not distressed!”
“I don’t think I used that word exactly…” he said slowly. “I may have. I simply wanted him to be rest-assured.”
Liz crossed one of her legs over the other. “Why do you think I’m distressed?”
“Liz, do you recall the day we met? You were—”
“I know what I was doing,” she snapped. “That is none of your business. And it is especially not my principal’s business.”
“I’m sorry for telling him, I did not mean to.”
“Well it’s too late now isn’t it? He’s wants to make me go to counselling! Counselling! I don’t think so.”
Maxwell snickered. “You don’t have to tell me about that, I hate it myself.” He paused and then said, “Will you forgive me? I would love it if you remained my friend.”
“You aren’t just pitying me are you? Because I’m fine, I don’t need anyone looking out for me,” she lowered her voice and added, “It’s my mother who’s the one in need of being looked after.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, nothing,” she sighed.
“I promise not to pity you.”
“Alright, but I’m still not happy.”
He wanted desperately to ask why she had been crying those two weeks ago but knew that her forgiveness was as thin as ice at the moment.
“Will you come to dinner tomorrow night?” he asked, “My wife would like to meet you. She would like you to bring some artwork.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Alright, I suppose I can do that for you.”
“Thank you.”
After they’d left, Liz rejoined her mother in the lounge room. She stood in front of the fire place and warmed her bottom.
“They’re very nice men, aren’t they?” Samantha commented. “And your Maxwell is uncommonly handsome.”
“He’s not mine,” she said curtly. “And yes…he is somewhat good looking.”
“What were you so angry at him for anyway?”
“Ah…nothing, just something he said…” she switched the conversation quickly, “What are you doing home from work so early?”
Samantha sipped her tea and said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “Oh…I got fired.”
```````
“Ah, Mr. Evans. Someone told me you were here; may I please have a word?”
Maxwell turned his attention away from the school’s accountant when he heard the principal’s voice. After bad experiences with his own principal in school, he was always uneasy around them.
“Of course,” he said and used his cane to help him to his feet. “In your office?”
“Yes, please.”
Mr. Bennet put his hand on Maxwell’s back to lead the way and then closed the door behind them.
“I didn’t want to say anything, but I assured one of the teachers that I would. She wanted a peace of mind you see.”
They both took and seat, Mr. Bennet behind his daunting desk and Mr. Evans in front of it.
“Oh yes?” Maxwell guessed what he was going to say before he even got to the point.
“She was just concerned because she saw one of our seniors getting into your car a while ago, and a couple of instances later.”
“What would you like me to say?” he asked.
“I simply wondered if this information was correct.”
“I have been giving Elizabeth Parker a ride home, if that is who you are referring to. I do not see a problem with this.”
“There is no problem,” Mr. Bennet assured him. There was no way he could insult the man who had already improved the schools financial situation drastically. “As I said, one of the teachers made me guarantee that I’d enquire after it. She seemed to think it was rather unorthodox…”
“And what of your opinion, sir?” Maxwell asked. “Do you believe it to be unorthodox or are you making sure not to tread on thin ice by staying on the bank?”
“I must admit that I was rather curious as to why you would have singled out Miss Parker.”
“I have not ‘singled out’ Miss Parker. If you must know as to what is going on, I will tell you. Liz—I mean Elizabeth—and I met previously…before I became involved in the school…and she was rather distressed. I have been concerned for her well-being and have set out personally to make sure that she is okay.”
“Why Miss Parker, distressed! Are we talking about the same person? Miss Elizabeth Parker? She is hardly one to be concerned about. So full of life, so…”
“I know exactly what you mean, of course.” Maxwell scratched his chin. “But would you like to know how I came to meet her?”
“Well, I’m intrigued now.”
“She was sitting on the street, crying her eyes out.”
Mr. Bennet frowned. “What on earth for?”
“I’m unsure.”
The two sat in silence for a long moment and then Mr. Bennet stood from his chair. “Mr. Evans, I’m again astounded by your kindness and disposition. Your compassion is amazing.”
Maxwell sighed. He really didn’t want the principal to go on like this. He was embarrassed for him. “Thank you, but really I’ve done nothing…”
“Oh but you have!”
“No, really. Elizabeth has probably done more for me than I have done for her. Now…may I be excused?”
“Of course, of course. I wouldn’t want to hold you up.”
~*~
Maria looked up from her book when Elizabeth re-entered the classroom. She instantly whispered to her, “What’s wrong?”
It wasn’t every day that one of them was taken out of a lesson to speak to the principal.
“Nothings wrong,” Liz sighed. She took a seat and wrapped her arms around her chest. The pout wouldn’t leave her mouth. “Actually…yes, there is. You know Maxwell Windsor?”
“Yeah, how could I forget?”
“Mr. Bennet wanted to discuss my relationship with him. Something about wanting to inform me that counselling was available if I wished to talk to someone about my ‘problems’. He said it wasn’t ‘orthodox’ to bother the schools benefactor.”
“Why would you need counselling?” Maria asked in surprise.
“I don’t know! I suppose we’ll have to ask Mr. Evans, he’s the one who said he’d been concerned about my well-being. Can you believe that? He’s been doing nothing but pitying me this whole time. Here I was, thinking we were friends—”
“I’m sure it’s not just pity,” Maria argued. She put her hand on her friends arm. “You are friends; he probably just didn’t know how to ask you if you were okay.”
“But he went to the principal Maria! Who does that?”
“I think it’s a good sign, I think it shows that he cares.”
“I don’t,” Liz groaned. “And I’m so angry.”
Maria studied her for a long moment. “But what reason does he have to be concerned anyway? Are you sure there isn’t something you’re not telling me?”
“There’s nothing I’m not telling you, okay? Just stop thinking about it.”
After school Maxwell was waiting in his car for her but she strode straight past and off down the street. She didn’t want to see him right now.
Suddenly he called out after her. “Liz?”
Angelo must have told him she’d gone past.
“I don’t want a ride today,” she simply called back and then kept walking. A few minutes later the car pulled up along side her.
“Angelo tells me it looks like rain,” Maxwell said, a smile on his face.
“I don’t care; I’d rather get wet than take rides from stupid blind men who have no idea what they’re talking about!”
“Why do I think you aren’t simply talking about the weather now?”
She stopped walking and turned to face him with her arms over her chest. “Of course I’m not talking about the flipping weather. Tell me, if I was such a bother laying all my ‘problems’ on you, why didn’t you just say so? I would have taken the hint. You didn’t need to get my principal involved.”
Maxwell swallowed. “Why don’t you hop in the car and we’ll talk about this rationally.”
“Get in the car with you?” she asked. “Never again. You can leave me alone, that’s what you can do.”
To her surprise, he did leave her alone. He told Angelo to speed up and they left. Just like that.
That made her realize that he didn’t care enough to fight with her and her heart sunk. In fact, she found herself on the verge of tears. She had been nearly certain that there would be a reasonable explanation for his ‘chat’ with the principal, now she knew that there wasn’t.
What a bastard.
An hour walk was a long time for her to vent her anger but it still was not enough. She continued cursing and stamping her feet even as she rounded the corner to her street. Her irritation distracted her so much that it wasn’t until at her letterbox that she realized Maxwell’s fancy 1946 Lincoln Zephyr was parked in the drive way. It made her mother’s old cream Pontaic Sedan look even more beat up.
Inside the house, Samantha was sitting in the lounge with the two men drinking tea. Liz was infuriated even more by the sight of their familiarity and stormed past them all straight to her room. After slamming the door childishly she threw herself down on the bed and buried her face in her pillow. She didn’t care how juvenile she was acting. As long as they all got the point.
“Perhaps I should go speak to her?” Samantha went to get up from her chair.
“No, no,” Maxwell bet her to it. “I will, after all it is me that she’s angry at. Will you show me the way?”
“Of course.”
Outside her door she whispered, “Good luck, when she gets like this she can be so stubborn!”
Maxwell knocked on the door. “Liz? May I come in and speak to you?”
“Only if it’s to apologize,” came her reply.
“Of course. I would greatly appreciate the chance.”
She opened the door and took his wrist to tug him inside. Before closing the door she shot a dismissive look at her mother who was leaning against the opposite wall with her arms crossed over her chest.
“It smells like honey in here,” Maxwell commented.
“Does it? I don’t notice.”
Liz went and got her desk chair for him and then sat down on the end of her bed.
“I’m sorry that your principal said something to you about my talk with him. I honestly did not know that he would.”
“Why did you talk with him about me anyway?”
Maxwell swallowed. “He simply requested to know about the nature of our meetings. I assured him that you were my friend. He found that strange for some reason…”
“And you told him I was distressed? I am not distressed!”
“I don’t think I used that word exactly…” he said slowly. “I may have. I simply wanted him to be rest-assured.”
Liz crossed one of her legs over the other. “Why do you think I’m distressed?”
“Liz, do you recall the day we met? You were—”
“I know what I was doing,” she snapped. “That is none of your business. And it is especially not my principal’s business.”
“I’m sorry for telling him, I did not mean to.”
“Well it’s too late now isn’t it? He’s wants to make me go to counselling! Counselling! I don’t think so.”
Maxwell snickered. “You don’t have to tell me about that, I hate it myself.” He paused and then said, “Will you forgive me? I would love it if you remained my friend.”
“You aren’t just pitying me are you? Because I’m fine, I don’t need anyone looking out for me,” she lowered her voice and added, “It’s my mother who’s the one in need of being looked after.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“Oh, nothing,” she sighed.
“I promise not to pity you.”
“Alright, but I’m still not happy.”
He wanted desperately to ask why she had been crying those two weeks ago but knew that her forgiveness was as thin as ice at the moment.
“Will you come to dinner tomorrow night?” he asked, “My wife would like to meet you. She would like you to bring some artwork.”
She thought about it for a moment. “Alright, I suppose I can do that for you.”
“Thank you.”
After they’d left, Liz rejoined her mother in the lounge room. She stood in front of the fire place and warmed her bottom.
“They’re very nice men, aren’t they?” Samantha commented. “And your Maxwell is uncommonly handsome.”
“He’s not mine,” she said curtly. “And yes…he is somewhat good looking.”
“What were you so angry at him for anyway?”
“Ah…nothing, just something he said…” she switched the conversation quickly, “What are you doing home from work so early?”
Samantha sipped her tea and said, as if it was the most normal thing in the world, “Oh…I got fired.”
Last edited by nicola on Fri Aug 06, 2004 9:14 pm, edited 2 times in total.
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
~*
Even though Liz usually detested the necessary task of grooming, tonight she lingered in the bath tub. She wanted to be sparkly clean so that Max’s wife would have a good first impression.
With a sigh, she sunk further back into the warm water so that her nose was the only thing peaking out into the air. Her eyes were just closing when she heard a loud bang that had her springing up in worry.
“Goddamit!” her mother screamed, “I can’t do this! I need you for this! This was your job!”
Liz frowned and considered getting up but her fright ended up keeping her in place. She lay back down and immersed her head in water, praying to lose her hearing so that she couldn’t listen to her mother. Her mother who was becoming more insane by the day.
Unfortunately her priers were not answered and no matter how hard she tried, she could not ignore the slamming of kitchen cupboards and the tossing of furniture. What could she do to help, she wondered? There must be something I can do to save her…
The bathroom door flung open and, dishevelled and red faced, Samantha marched in with a jar in her hand. Liz sat up only slightly and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Open this jar for me,” she demanded. “I need this jar opened.”
Liz nervously took the jar from her mother and tried with all her might to undo the lid. She tried so hard her hands went red and raw, but nothing helped. It just wouldn’t budge. Regretfully she handed it back and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s too tight—”
“Goddamit!” her mother screamed. Suddenly in frustration and anger she smashed the jar on the wall, nearly causing Liz to jump out of her skin. The strawberry jam spilt every where. “Well who’s going to open it then?”
Liz bit her lip to keep from crying. “Sam, calm down…”
“I can’t open it. You can’t open it…your father certainly can’t open it!” Samantha grabbed her shoulders and shook her daughter furiously until she was begging for her to stop. “Who’s going to help me? No one’s going to look after me, are they?”
“I am,” Liz cried. “I’m going to look after you.”
With a growl, Samantha stormed out of the room and slammed the door after her. Liz panted loudly in the misty room and fought off tears.
~*~
“Have you always called your mother by her first name?” Maxwell asked with amusement.
“Since I was sixteen. I think using the word ‘Mom’ is very juvenile. Once you reach a respectable age it should be a law that you start treating your elders like equals.”
“That’s a strange theory,” Maxwell said. “But I suppose I’m not surprised that it’s coming from you.”
“What can I say?”
“Anyway, what I really want to ask is: where were you this afternoon? You never came to get a ride.”
“I decided to finish up on some things in the art room. I left later.”
“I was worried that you were still mad.”
Liz sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not.”
“Do you think it’s such a good idea for you to be walking a long distance in the dark—?”
“I was fine.”
“Still…”
Once they arrived at the apartment Maxwell helped Angelo unload the trunk while Liz went inside. Instantly she was greeted loudly…
“Well, it’s about time! Maxwell just won’t stop talking about you, I feel like I already know you personally. It’s Liz this and Liz that…”
“I’ll say,” Hannah commented. “We really are happy to finally meet you.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you too,” Liz replied and pulled her hand away from Josephine’s warm grasp. “You have a very nice home.”
“Oh heaven no, this isn’t my home, its Max’s! Don’t tell me you’ve never been here before?”
“No, she hasn’t,” Maxwell said as he entered. He gave his wife and Hannah a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You don’t live here?” Liz frowned.
Josephine froze and then looked at Maxwell. “Ah…”
“Liz, I’ll just put your paintings over here. After dinner you can show them?” Maxwell changed the subject.
“Okay,” she said. “It seems a waste for you to have such a nice home, how can you appreciate it?”
“Oh agreed,” Josephine nodded furiously. “But I’m sure it’s comforting to be around nice things.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She was still confused about why Maxwell’s wife didn’t live with him but she went with it anyway. She’d ask him later.
Hannah put her arm around Liz’s shoulders, “Come into the warm. The fires on and there’ll be drink. Sounds good, yes?”
“Sounds ideal.”
As Liz was led through the apartment, she admired her surroundings. She now noticed how incredibly Maxwell it was. Very aristocratic and masculine, just what she’d expect from him. The room they all sat down in was adorned with dark leather couches and polished wooden walls. There were rich, burgundy rugs and book shelves filled with age-old novels.
“I’m not used to such beauty,” she commented. “Places like this could be fiction for all I know. You see beautiful homes in the cinema quite frequently, but everything they portray seems like a fairy tale.”
Maxwell chose to stand in front of the large fire place. “Liz is a big fan of the cinema, did I tell you already?”
“Yes you told me,” Josephine answered. “Liz, if you haven’t already you must see ‘A Double Life’ with Ronald Colman. His performance deserves an Oscar, if I dear say so myself. Han, you’ll back me up?”
“Yes, she’s absolutely right.”
A pretty maid brought Liz a drink and then scattered away to wherever she’d come from.
“There will be no more visiting the cinema for me; my mother no longer has a job. But thank you for the suggestion.”
“Oh, well you can’t miss out! We’ll just have to take you one day,” Hannah said, “I don’t think it would be a burden to see such a wonderful performance again.”
“No I should think not,” Josephine said. “But Liz…I never knew it was just you and your mother at home. No father, brothers?”
Liz shook her head. “No, my mother was no longer able to have children after she gave birth to me.” She avoided discussing the issue of her father.
“That makes you even more treasured,” Maxwell offered her a smile. “An only child is rare.”
Her heart pounded happily against her ribs. “I don’t know how true that is, but thank you anyway.”
With the way his eyes were trained on her, she could almost swear that he really could see her. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was blind.
When she looked away, she realized that Josephine and Hannah had been studying her while she’d been studying him. A slight tinge of red covered her cheeks and she cleared her throat.
“What are we having for dinner?”
“Lobster,” Josephine answered. “Do you like lobster, Liz?”
“I don’t recall ever trying it, but I’m sure it’s delicious.”
Josephine was such an elegant woman that Liz couldn’t help but feel inadequate in her presence. She was slim and tall, taller than Maxwell, with white-blonde curly hair. Her eyes were green and her features were straight and defined. Liz had never met someone with blonde hair and green eyes.
Tonight Josephine was wearing a deep blue edge-to-edge hip length flared jacket with wide Dolman sleeves and brimless mid-calf skirt. Liz thought she looked stunning, especially since her outfit consisted of a cotton dress with three button fastening and a tie belt. It was years out of date.
Hannah was handsome too, but didn’t compare to her friend. Her hair was brown and thin and she had a big nose.
There wasn’t much conversation during dinner but over dessert and coffee Liz had many questions to answer. In the end Maxwell demanded that they stop interrogating her and take look at her art work instead.
“Oh my! You did this yourself?” Hannah asked when the butler brought her canvases in.
Liz felt like she was just saying that to be polite. Her actual opinion on the paintings was unclear.
“You are extremely talented; this is obvious from first sight.” Josephine put on her spectacles and studied the canvases closely. “Do you frequently paint people?”
“Most often,” Liz admitted.
She remained in her seat next to Maxwell while the two ladies fluffed around. She told Maxwell that she was very grateful for dinner and that it was delicious.
“It was my pleasure,” he replied.
“This one! I must have it,” Josephine suddenly cried. “How much shall I pay you? Any price.”
“That one is actually of my mother,” Liz admitted. “I would prefer not to…”
“Oh Max, it’s stunning. The woman…Liz’s mother, she’s sitting on the edge of a bed and her head is one hand, while the other grasps a glass of wine. Her hair is the most brilliant, glossy red and her emerald jewellery and printed silk dress…it’s spectacular. Liz the detail…her fingers…wow.”
“Thank you.”
“She looks so sad,” Hannah commented. “You can’t see her face but…oh, you can feel her pain.”
“When did you paint this, dear?”
“August 1945,” she replied. Right after the war when her mother had gotten news that her father wasn’t coming home.
“It doesn’t matter if I can’t have that one. I’ll still have to buy something off you because when you’re famous I won’t be able to afford it.” Josephine laughed. “What about this one?”
“You can have that one. No need to pay, it’s a gift. For your kindness this evening.”
“Oh no, we shan’t take it for free. No possible way…”
“She’s right, we couldn’t.”
Maxwell leaned into Liz and whispered, “Just let them pay, they won’t leave you alone until they have. You don’t want to be here all night do you?”
She chuckled. “Alright then.”
~*~
Josephine and Hannah left Maxwell’s house before Liz. After they’d gone, she got a tour of the apartment starting with his office.
“All useless to me,” Maxwell commented with a wave of his hand. He was referring to his large collection of novels. “If you see one you would like, please…help yourself. I can see them only in my memories now.”
“That’s the better way to see them anyway,” she replied. “They’re always better when you can play around with them and change the characters how you want. I’m not actually a big book fan.”
“That’s not surprising considering you enjoy movies so much—”
“Max?”
“Yes Liz?” he went to lean against his desk and nearly missed it. Liz grabbed his arm to steady him.
“Careful. You’ll break your neck doing that.”
“You’d laugh if you knew how many times I’ve misjudged the distance and landed on the carpet.”
She smiled. “I can imagine.”
“What were you going to ask me?”
“Can I please sleep here tonight?” she crossed her arms over her chest and studied his reaction with avid curiosity.
He swallowed. “Why don’t you want to go home? Is your mother—?”
“Everything is fine,” she replied quickly. “It’s just that I like it here so much and…”
“You don’t have to lie to me Liz. What is your mother doing to upset you so much? Does it have to do with your deceased father?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said gruffly. “If you want me to go home, I will.”
He shook his head. “No, of course you don’t have to go home. I have so many bedrooms and you can pick whichever one you like. I’m just concerned…”
“Not this again. I’m fine. Are you fine?”
“I don’t think either of us is particularly fine, but we are both very stubborn. Would you like to see the rooms now?”
“Alright.”
Liz took his arm and he led her through the apartment, showing her every stylish room after the next. She found herself holding her breath in anticipation of each revealing.
“Oh it’s just so handsome, how long have you lived here? Since you were young?”
Maxwell shook his head. “No. This I bought with my wife when we got married in early 39’.”
“Why doesn’t she live here with you now?” Liz finally asked. She had been practically dying of anticipation.
He made her wait even longer while he contemplated just how much truth to give her. “Josephine and I…we aren’t really…together any more.”
Liz frowned. “What does that mean?” she stopped walking down the wood-floored passage and stared up at him. “Are you divorced?”
“Well…no,” he swallowed. “I don’t know if you’ll understand.”
“There isn’t a lot I don’t understand. Let’s go back and sit down and then I would appreciate an explanation.”
They returned to the drawing room and while Liz sat down in front of the fire Maxwell went and put on some music. Liz waited impatiently for him to continue.
“My wife and I are separated in secret. You see…we refrain from going public with it for reputation reasons…”
“Reputation reasons?”
“Yes, society does not take kindly to women who separate from their husbands. I wish to save Josephine some embarrassment.”
“That is kind of you…but, well…the two of you seem to get on fine. I don’t understand why you’d feel the need for a separation in the first place.”
Maxwell shifted his legs uncomfortably. “You recall Hannah?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Hannah is my wife’s…ah, lover. So to speak.”
~*~
Hope you liked this, remembered to change the names this time! lol!
Thanks so much for your fb
~nicola
Even though Liz usually detested the necessary task of grooming, tonight she lingered in the bath tub. She wanted to be sparkly clean so that Max’s wife would have a good first impression.
With a sigh, she sunk further back into the warm water so that her nose was the only thing peaking out into the air. Her eyes were just closing when she heard a loud bang that had her springing up in worry.
“Goddamit!” her mother screamed, “I can’t do this! I need you for this! This was your job!”
Liz frowned and considered getting up but her fright ended up keeping her in place. She lay back down and immersed her head in water, praying to lose her hearing so that she couldn’t listen to her mother. Her mother who was becoming more insane by the day.
Unfortunately her priers were not answered and no matter how hard she tried, she could not ignore the slamming of kitchen cupboards and the tossing of furniture. What could she do to help, she wondered? There must be something I can do to save her…
The bathroom door flung open and, dishevelled and red faced, Samantha marched in with a jar in her hand. Liz sat up only slightly and asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Open this jar for me,” she demanded. “I need this jar opened.”
Liz nervously took the jar from her mother and tried with all her might to undo the lid. She tried so hard her hands went red and raw, but nothing helped. It just wouldn’t budge. Regretfully she handed it back and said, “I’m sorry, I can’t. It’s too tight—”
“Goddamit!” her mother screamed. Suddenly in frustration and anger she smashed the jar on the wall, nearly causing Liz to jump out of her skin. The strawberry jam spilt every where. “Well who’s going to open it then?”
Liz bit her lip to keep from crying. “Sam, calm down…”
“I can’t open it. You can’t open it…your father certainly can’t open it!” Samantha grabbed her shoulders and shook her daughter furiously until she was begging for her to stop. “Who’s going to help me? No one’s going to look after me, are they?”
“I am,” Liz cried. “I’m going to look after you.”
With a growl, Samantha stormed out of the room and slammed the door after her. Liz panted loudly in the misty room and fought off tears.
~*~
“Have you always called your mother by her first name?” Maxwell asked with amusement.
“Since I was sixteen. I think using the word ‘Mom’ is very juvenile. Once you reach a respectable age it should be a law that you start treating your elders like equals.”
“That’s a strange theory,” Maxwell said. “But I suppose I’m not surprised that it’s coming from you.”
“What can I say?”
“Anyway, what I really want to ask is: where were you this afternoon? You never came to get a ride.”
“I decided to finish up on some things in the art room. I left later.”
“I was worried that you were still mad.”
Liz sucked in a deep breath. “I’m not.”
“Do you think it’s such a good idea for you to be walking a long distance in the dark—?”
“I was fine.”
“Still…”
Once they arrived at the apartment Maxwell helped Angelo unload the trunk while Liz went inside. Instantly she was greeted loudly…
“Well, it’s about time! Maxwell just won’t stop talking about you, I feel like I already know you personally. It’s Liz this and Liz that…”
“I’ll say,” Hannah commented. “We really are happy to finally meet you.”
“Well it’s nice to meet you too,” Liz replied and pulled her hand away from Josephine’s warm grasp. “You have a very nice home.”
“Oh heaven no, this isn’t my home, its Max’s! Don’t tell me you’ve never been here before?”
“No, she hasn’t,” Maxwell said as he entered. He gave his wife and Hannah a quick kiss on the cheek.
“You don’t live here?” Liz frowned.
Josephine froze and then looked at Maxwell. “Ah…”
“Liz, I’ll just put your paintings over here. After dinner you can show them?” Maxwell changed the subject.
“Okay,” she said. “It seems a waste for you to have such a nice home, how can you appreciate it?”
“Oh agreed,” Josephine nodded furiously. “But I’m sure it’s comforting to be around nice things.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right.” She was still confused about why Maxwell’s wife didn’t live with him but she went with it anyway. She’d ask him later.
Hannah put her arm around Liz’s shoulders, “Come into the warm. The fires on and there’ll be drink. Sounds good, yes?”
“Sounds ideal.”
As Liz was led through the apartment, she admired her surroundings. She now noticed how incredibly Maxwell it was. Very aristocratic and masculine, just what she’d expect from him. The room they all sat down in was adorned with dark leather couches and polished wooden walls. There were rich, burgundy rugs and book shelves filled with age-old novels.
“I’m not used to such beauty,” she commented. “Places like this could be fiction for all I know. You see beautiful homes in the cinema quite frequently, but everything they portray seems like a fairy tale.”
Maxwell chose to stand in front of the large fire place. “Liz is a big fan of the cinema, did I tell you already?”
“Yes you told me,” Josephine answered. “Liz, if you haven’t already you must see ‘A Double Life’ with Ronald Colman. His performance deserves an Oscar, if I dear say so myself. Han, you’ll back me up?”
“Yes, she’s absolutely right.”
A pretty maid brought Liz a drink and then scattered away to wherever she’d come from.
“There will be no more visiting the cinema for me; my mother no longer has a job. But thank you for the suggestion.”
“Oh, well you can’t miss out! We’ll just have to take you one day,” Hannah said, “I don’t think it would be a burden to see such a wonderful performance again.”
“No I should think not,” Josephine said. “But Liz…I never knew it was just you and your mother at home. No father, brothers?”
Liz shook her head. “No, my mother was no longer able to have children after she gave birth to me.” She avoided discussing the issue of her father.
“That makes you even more treasured,” Maxwell offered her a smile. “An only child is rare.”
Her heart pounded happily against her ribs. “I don’t know how true that is, but thank you anyway.”
With the way his eyes were trained on her, she could almost swear that he really could see her. Sometimes it was hard to believe he was blind.
When she looked away, she realized that Josephine and Hannah had been studying her while she’d been studying him. A slight tinge of red covered her cheeks and she cleared her throat.
“What are we having for dinner?”
“Lobster,” Josephine answered. “Do you like lobster, Liz?”
“I don’t recall ever trying it, but I’m sure it’s delicious.”
Josephine was such an elegant woman that Liz couldn’t help but feel inadequate in her presence. She was slim and tall, taller than Maxwell, with white-blonde curly hair. Her eyes were green and her features were straight and defined. Liz had never met someone with blonde hair and green eyes.
Tonight Josephine was wearing a deep blue edge-to-edge hip length flared jacket with wide Dolman sleeves and brimless mid-calf skirt. Liz thought she looked stunning, especially since her outfit consisted of a cotton dress with three button fastening and a tie belt. It was years out of date.
Hannah was handsome too, but didn’t compare to her friend. Her hair was brown and thin and she had a big nose.
There wasn’t much conversation during dinner but over dessert and coffee Liz had many questions to answer. In the end Maxwell demanded that they stop interrogating her and take look at her art work instead.
“Oh my! You did this yourself?” Hannah asked when the butler brought her canvases in.
Liz felt like she was just saying that to be polite. Her actual opinion on the paintings was unclear.
“You are extremely talented; this is obvious from first sight.” Josephine put on her spectacles and studied the canvases closely. “Do you frequently paint people?”
“Most often,” Liz admitted.
She remained in her seat next to Maxwell while the two ladies fluffed around. She told Maxwell that she was very grateful for dinner and that it was delicious.
“It was my pleasure,” he replied.
“This one! I must have it,” Josephine suddenly cried. “How much shall I pay you? Any price.”
“That one is actually of my mother,” Liz admitted. “I would prefer not to…”
“Oh Max, it’s stunning. The woman…Liz’s mother, she’s sitting on the edge of a bed and her head is one hand, while the other grasps a glass of wine. Her hair is the most brilliant, glossy red and her emerald jewellery and printed silk dress…it’s spectacular. Liz the detail…her fingers…wow.”
“Thank you.”
“She looks so sad,” Hannah commented. “You can’t see her face but…oh, you can feel her pain.”
“When did you paint this, dear?”
“August 1945,” she replied. Right after the war when her mother had gotten news that her father wasn’t coming home.
“It doesn’t matter if I can’t have that one. I’ll still have to buy something off you because when you’re famous I won’t be able to afford it.” Josephine laughed. “What about this one?”
“You can have that one. No need to pay, it’s a gift. For your kindness this evening.”
“Oh no, we shan’t take it for free. No possible way…”
“She’s right, we couldn’t.”
Maxwell leaned into Liz and whispered, “Just let them pay, they won’t leave you alone until they have. You don’t want to be here all night do you?”
She chuckled. “Alright then.”
~*~
Josephine and Hannah left Maxwell’s house before Liz. After they’d gone, she got a tour of the apartment starting with his office.
“All useless to me,” Maxwell commented with a wave of his hand. He was referring to his large collection of novels. “If you see one you would like, please…help yourself. I can see them only in my memories now.”
“That’s the better way to see them anyway,” she replied. “They’re always better when you can play around with them and change the characters how you want. I’m not actually a big book fan.”
“That’s not surprising considering you enjoy movies so much—”
“Max?”
“Yes Liz?” he went to lean against his desk and nearly missed it. Liz grabbed his arm to steady him.
“Careful. You’ll break your neck doing that.”
“You’d laugh if you knew how many times I’ve misjudged the distance and landed on the carpet.”
She smiled. “I can imagine.”
“What were you going to ask me?”
“Can I please sleep here tonight?” she crossed her arms over her chest and studied his reaction with avid curiosity.
He swallowed. “Why don’t you want to go home? Is your mother—?”
“Everything is fine,” she replied quickly. “It’s just that I like it here so much and…”
“You don’t have to lie to me Liz. What is your mother doing to upset you so much? Does it have to do with your deceased father?”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she said gruffly. “If you want me to go home, I will.”
He shook his head. “No, of course you don’t have to go home. I have so many bedrooms and you can pick whichever one you like. I’m just concerned…”
“Not this again. I’m fine. Are you fine?”
“I don’t think either of us is particularly fine, but we are both very stubborn. Would you like to see the rooms now?”
“Alright.”
Liz took his arm and he led her through the apartment, showing her every stylish room after the next. She found herself holding her breath in anticipation of each revealing.
“Oh it’s just so handsome, how long have you lived here? Since you were young?”
Maxwell shook his head. “No. This I bought with my wife when we got married in early 39’.”
“Why doesn’t she live here with you now?” Liz finally asked. She had been practically dying of anticipation.
He made her wait even longer while he contemplated just how much truth to give her. “Josephine and I…we aren’t really…together any more.”
Liz frowned. “What does that mean?” she stopped walking down the wood-floored passage and stared up at him. “Are you divorced?”
“Well…no,” he swallowed. “I don’t know if you’ll understand.”
“There isn’t a lot I don’t understand. Let’s go back and sit down and then I would appreciate an explanation.”
They returned to the drawing room and while Liz sat down in front of the fire Maxwell went and put on some music. Liz waited impatiently for him to continue.
“My wife and I are separated in secret. You see…we refrain from going public with it for reputation reasons…”
“Reputation reasons?”
“Yes, society does not take kindly to women who separate from their husbands. I wish to save Josephine some embarrassment.”
“That is kind of you…but, well…the two of you seem to get on fine. I don’t understand why you’d feel the need for a separation in the first place.”
Maxwell shifted his legs uncomfortably. “You recall Hannah?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Hannah is my wife’s…ah, lover. So to speak.”
~*~
Hope you liked this, remembered to change the names this time! lol!
Thanks so much for your fb
~nicola
Maxwell guessed that she didn’t known what to say. The couch shifted as she stood up and when she finally spoke he could tell she was facing away towards the fireplace.
“Well…my goodness. I mean…that’s different. Each to their own I suppose.”
Maxwell nodded. “It certainly is.”
Without turning to face him she asked, “How long have they been involved? How long has she been…?”
“They met during the war.” He paused, wondering what else he should admit. “I believe it was in ’42. There is something that you should know about Josephine because I don’t want to you judge her. She’s not a bad person; she was never unfaithful to me. At first Hannah was simply her friend and she ignored her feelings for me. It was only last year when she…came out.”
Liz finally turned around. “How did you feel after you learnt this news? You must have been devastated…she is your wife after all.”
“Not as devastated as you’d think,” he replied. He put his hands on his knees and stretched his fingers out as far as they’d go. Under the pads of his skin he could feel the bones in his legs.
“Our wedding…it was one of those common hurried before-war unions. Friends trying to cling onto something normal. We were uncertain of the future and wanted to promise what was left of our lives to each other. Thoughts of her fuelled me through the battles but…when I arrived home it was clear we weren’t meant to be. It was strange; I’d spent all those years waiting to come back to her and during my furloughs we underwent the same fantasy that everyone else did. Only…out of the blue…let’s just say, reality hits quite harshly once it’s all over.”
Liz sucked in a deep breath. “This is all quite a surprise. You led me to believe you two were happily wedded.”
“I know and I’m sorry. As I said earlier…our separation is a secret. I was unsure as to how she would feel about me telling you. I hope this does not change our friendship at all.”
“No, no. Why would it? I mean…of course it wouldn’t. Thank you for telling me.” She sat back down on the couch beside him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I noticed that she is very domineering. Has she always been that way?”
“Yes,” he laughed.
“I’d hate that if I were you,” she admitted openly. “I couldn’t stand to have someone telling me what to do.”
“She’s not as bad as you might think.” Maxwell rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Am I to take this to mean you don’t think much of her?”
“No, no. She was very kind.”
They had a brief silence which gave Maxwell a moment to lose himself in his memories. To avoid any emotional havoc he abruptly shot up and went to the bar to pour himself a whisky. He realized he’d only had one glass tonight.
“It’s a little late for that terrible stuff, isn’t it?” Liz asked judgingly.
He paused. “Do you think so?”
“Yes.”
Uncharacteristically, he decided to take her advice and put the crystal carafe back in its place. He returned to his seat and said, “As you can imagine, my past is not an easy thing to bring back to life. I seem to drink to forget but…I’m fairly sure it has the opposite affect. I’ll never learn.”
Liz didn’t say anything.
“I’m worried that your mother will be waiting up for you.”
“She won’t,” Liz answered. “She knows I’m with you. She'd only be worried if she didn’t know where I was.”
“If you’re sure.”
After another half an hour of chatting she caught herself yawning and decided to retire for the evening. There was a spare room right next to Maxwell’s so that one was the most appealing to sleep in. After removing her clothing and turning off the light, she snuggled deep within the expensive sheets and closed her eyes. She could hear his soft tread as he went about his business in the office. There were so many things on her mind that she didn’t know which one to approach first.
Thankfully her exhaustion caught up with her and the only thing she had time to ponder was that she could get used to ending her evenings like this…
~*~
“Getting dropped off by him too now?” Maria asked, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “You realize that you have the whole senior year ready to kill you in envy?”
Liz simply huffed. “As if I care. Samantha is sleeping in late now that she doesn’t have to go to work. Therefore she has no need to drive me here. We’re running out of food in the house too, I don’t know how we’ll be able to live soon…”
Maria looked at her sympathetically. “If there is anyway my parents or I could help tell me okay?”
“I’m not happy with the idea of charity thank you.”
“Don’t let pride get in the way of your well-being.”
The two girls walked across the courtyard to the assembly-room where this morning they had formal dancing. Every few weeks the boys from the neighbouring college would be brought in so that everyone could be taught to waltz. Liz hated it; she was normally paired with someone she didn’t like.
After a few minutes everyone was herded inside where the males were already waiting. Her friend Sarah could hardly hide her excitement and was fidgeting wildly. She was absolutely convinced that she was in love with some guy going by the name of Richard.
“Hello my love, long time no see.”
Liz gulped loudly when she heard Francois’s voice behind her. One of his hands touched her shoulder and she fought the urge to run.
“Ah…hi,” she said—making no effort to hide her irritation. Reluctantly she turned around and offered a smile.
“How are you? I’ve really missed seeing you around.”
“I’m alright,” she replied simply.
“Will you dance with me this morning?”
Maria suddenly butted in. “Go on Lizzie, I’m sure it would make his day.” She winked teasingly at Liz. She was well aware of how her friend felt about Francois.
“It certainly would,” he grinned and held out his arm.
Liz, who considered herself somewhat a good person, gave in and let him lead her onto the floor. This would be her good deed for the day.
She didn’t even struggle when he held her a little too closely for comfort. Instead she thought back to the night before when she’d been awoken by strange whimpering noises coming from next door. Naturally, she’d gotten up to investigate and while peering through the crack in Maxwell’s door she discovered him restless in his sleep. Whatever he had been dreaming about she knew it troubled him deeply. She had been tempted to try and console him but knew better than to interfere.
“Liz,” Francois suddenly interrupted her train of thought. “I just want to let you know you’re so much more special than normal girls.”
She swallowed. “I’m not normal then?”
“No, you’re different. Most females only say what they think you’ll want to hear. You say exactly what you want. I love that.”
“Most males find it discerning or threatening.”
“I don’t. You know most girls would jump at the chance at getting a college boy's attention too, but you don’t. Are you fussed about getting—?”
Suddenly one of the teachers hissed for them to be quiet and dance.
Liz was grateful for the interruption. She found it extremely awkward being complimented. What could you possibly say to blatant flattery?
Unfortunately Francois didn’t let the teacher stop him. In a harsh whisper he re-asked, “Are you not fussed about getting married?”
“Not overly.”
Were Maxwell’s stressful nightmares a common occurrence? She wondered. If so, what could they be about? The war, perhaps?
“What if I were to ask you one day,” Francois said bravely.
Liz snapped out of her daze. “Wait a minute, what?”
“What if I were to ask you to marry me some time in the future?”
“You two!” Mrs Smith hissed. Without realizing it, Liz and Francois had stopped dancing and messed up the order of the entire line. Quickly they rejoined the dance and an awkward silence fell upon them.
“You must be insane,” Liz finally uttered quietly. “I’m not going to get married.”
“Not ever?” he asked, horrified. “Why of course you are!”
She inched away from him slightly. “Well maybe one day, but…” not to you, she wanted to say. She didn’t however. Instead a convenient, “not now,” ended her statement. What was happening to her? Usually she’d come right out with it.
“That’s why I said ‘in the future’,” Francois smiled. “Although, I’d love it if I could ask you now.”
She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, really. “Don’t ask me now. I won’t say yes.”
“Frank as usual,” he huffed amusedly. “I won’t ask you now.”
He didn’t get what she meant. She didn’t want him to ask ever.
Thankfully an hour later he had to leave with the rest of his college friends and she could go to class. On the way she heard some girls talking to her and stuck her tongue out at them immaturely.
They were jealous that she apparently had the attention of “two incredibly good looking males when she doesn’t even want to be courted in the first place.”
Sure Francois was a little good looking. If you liked blonde hair and blue eyes. She preferred brown and hazel, like Maxwell’s. And besides, Francois had to get his mouth aromas fixed before she could even consider him dignified let alone a husband. The idea made her laugh out loud. Her married! To Francois! How wrong!
She considered telling Maxwell about this bizarre idea but then decided not to. She wouldn’t tell anyone. It was too embarrassing even thinking about it.
After school he took her for ice cream. They barely talked but it was nice anyway. Spending time with him was always nice. He was oddly funny, but not in an intentional way. He seemed to find her funny too but she didn’t know why.
Once at home, her mood went from very content to gloomy in the blink of an eye. Samantha was on the couch in her night gown, smelling badly and listening to the radio.
“Sam, you haven’t been there all day have you?”
“What if I have?” she shrugged simply. “No one’s going to care. How about you make dinner tonight, just for a change.”
“I’ve made dinner every night for the last two weeks,” Liz replied grumpily. “And besides, with what? We don’t have any food.”
“I borrowed some potatoes and vegetables from Johanna next door.”
“When are you going to look for a job? We could always use the money that dad left—”
“I’ll look for a job when I’m ready,” Samantha snapped. “And that money your father left is exactly that—your father’s. We are not to touch it. How will he feel when he gets back and it’s gone?”
Liz sighed. “But we don’t have anythi—”
“That’s enough!” she exclaimed. “The money will remain where it is.”
~*~
Sorry it took so long to get this out. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for you FB everyone
~nicola
“Well…my goodness. I mean…that’s different. Each to their own I suppose.”
Maxwell nodded. “It certainly is.”
Without turning to face him she asked, “How long have they been involved? How long has she been…?”
“They met during the war.” He paused, wondering what else he should admit. “I believe it was in ’42. There is something that you should know about Josephine because I don’t want to you judge her. She’s not a bad person; she was never unfaithful to me. At first Hannah was simply her friend and she ignored her feelings for me. It was only last year when she…came out.”
Liz finally turned around. “How did you feel after you learnt this news? You must have been devastated…she is your wife after all.”
“Not as devastated as you’d think,” he replied. He put his hands on his knees and stretched his fingers out as far as they’d go. Under the pads of his skin he could feel the bones in his legs.
“Our wedding…it was one of those common hurried before-war unions. Friends trying to cling onto something normal. We were uncertain of the future and wanted to promise what was left of our lives to each other. Thoughts of her fuelled me through the battles but…when I arrived home it was clear we weren’t meant to be. It was strange; I’d spent all those years waiting to come back to her and during my furloughs we underwent the same fantasy that everyone else did. Only…out of the blue…let’s just say, reality hits quite harshly once it’s all over.”
Liz sucked in a deep breath. “This is all quite a surprise. You led me to believe you two were happily wedded.”
“I know and I’m sorry. As I said earlier…our separation is a secret. I was unsure as to how she would feel about me telling you. I hope this does not change our friendship at all.”
“No, no. Why would it? I mean…of course it wouldn’t. Thank you for telling me.” She sat back down on the couch beside him and crossed her arms over her chest. “I noticed that she is very domineering. Has she always been that way?”
“Yes,” he laughed.
“I’d hate that if I were you,” she admitted openly. “I couldn’t stand to have someone telling me what to do.”
“She’s not as bad as you might think.” Maxwell rubbed the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger. “Am I to take this to mean you don’t think much of her?”
“No, no. She was very kind.”
They had a brief silence which gave Maxwell a moment to lose himself in his memories. To avoid any emotional havoc he abruptly shot up and went to the bar to pour himself a whisky. He realized he’d only had one glass tonight.
“It’s a little late for that terrible stuff, isn’t it?” Liz asked judgingly.
He paused. “Do you think so?”
“Yes.”
Uncharacteristically, he decided to take her advice and put the crystal carafe back in its place. He returned to his seat and said, “As you can imagine, my past is not an easy thing to bring back to life. I seem to drink to forget but…I’m fairly sure it has the opposite affect. I’ll never learn.”
Liz didn’t say anything.
“I’m worried that your mother will be waiting up for you.”
“She won’t,” Liz answered. “She knows I’m with you. She'd only be worried if she didn’t know where I was.”
“If you’re sure.”
After another half an hour of chatting she caught herself yawning and decided to retire for the evening. There was a spare room right next to Maxwell’s so that one was the most appealing to sleep in. After removing her clothing and turning off the light, she snuggled deep within the expensive sheets and closed her eyes. She could hear his soft tread as he went about his business in the office. There were so many things on her mind that she didn’t know which one to approach first.
Thankfully her exhaustion caught up with her and the only thing she had time to ponder was that she could get used to ending her evenings like this…
~*~
“Getting dropped off by him too now?” Maria asked, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “You realize that you have the whole senior year ready to kill you in envy?”
Liz simply huffed. “As if I care. Samantha is sleeping in late now that she doesn’t have to go to work. Therefore she has no need to drive me here. We’re running out of food in the house too, I don’t know how we’ll be able to live soon…”
Maria looked at her sympathetically. “If there is anyway my parents or I could help tell me okay?”
“I’m not happy with the idea of charity thank you.”
“Don’t let pride get in the way of your well-being.”
The two girls walked across the courtyard to the assembly-room where this morning they had formal dancing. Every few weeks the boys from the neighbouring college would be brought in so that everyone could be taught to waltz. Liz hated it; she was normally paired with someone she didn’t like.
After a few minutes everyone was herded inside where the males were already waiting. Her friend Sarah could hardly hide her excitement and was fidgeting wildly. She was absolutely convinced that she was in love with some guy going by the name of Richard.
“Hello my love, long time no see.”
Liz gulped loudly when she heard Francois’s voice behind her. One of his hands touched her shoulder and she fought the urge to run.
“Ah…hi,” she said—making no effort to hide her irritation. Reluctantly she turned around and offered a smile.
“How are you? I’ve really missed seeing you around.”
“I’m alright,” she replied simply.
“Will you dance with me this morning?”
Maria suddenly butted in. “Go on Lizzie, I’m sure it would make his day.” She winked teasingly at Liz. She was well aware of how her friend felt about Francois.
“It certainly would,” he grinned and held out his arm.
Liz, who considered herself somewhat a good person, gave in and let him lead her onto the floor. This would be her good deed for the day.
She didn’t even struggle when he held her a little too closely for comfort. Instead she thought back to the night before when she’d been awoken by strange whimpering noises coming from next door. Naturally, she’d gotten up to investigate and while peering through the crack in Maxwell’s door she discovered him restless in his sleep. Whatever he had been dreaming about she knew it troubled him deeply. She had been tempted to try and console him but knew better than to interfere.
“Liz,” Francois suddenly interrupted her train of thought. “I just want to let you know you’re so much more special than normal girls.”
She swallowed. “I’m not normal then?”
“No, you’re different. Most females only say what they think you’ll want to hear. You say exactly what you want. I love that.”
“Most males find it discerning or threatening.”
“I don’t. You know most girls would jump at the chance at getting a college boy's attention too, but you don’t. Are you fussed about getting—?”
Suddenly one of the teachers hissed for them to be quiet and dance.
Liz was grateful for the interruption. She found it extremely awkward being complimented. What could you possibly say to blatant flattery?
Unfortunately Francois didn’t let the teacher stop him. In a harsh whisper he re-asked, “Are you not fussed about getting married?”
“Not overly.”
Were Maxwell’s stressful nightmares a common occurrence? She wondered. If so, what could they be about? The war, perhaps?
“What if I were to ask you one day,” Francois said bravely.
Liz snapped out of her daze. “Wait a minute, what?”
“What if I were to ask you to marry me some time in the future?”
“You two!” Mrs Smith hissed. Without realizing it, Liz and Francois had stopped dancing and messed up the order of the entire line. Quickly they rejoined the dance and an awkward silence fell upon them.
“You must be insane,” Liz finally uttered quietly. “I’m not going to get married.”
“Not ever?” he asked, horrified. “Why of course you are!”
She inched away from him slightly. “Well maybe one day, but…” not to you, she wanted to say. She didn’t however. Instead a convenient, “not now,” ended her statement. What was happening to her? Usually she’d come right out with it.
“That’s why I said ‘in the future’,” Francois smiled. “Although, I’d love it if I could ask you now.”
She didn’t want to hurt his feelings, really. “Don’t ask me now. I won’t say yes.”
“Frank as usual,” he huffed amusedly. “I won’t ask you now.”
He didn’t get what she meant. She didn’t want him to ask ever.
Thankfully an hour later he had to leave with the rest of his college friends and she could go to class. On the way she heard some girls talking to her and stuck her tongue out at them immaturely.
They were jealous that she apparently had the attention of “two incredibly good looking males when she doesn’t even want to be courted in the first place.”
Sure Francois was a little good looking. If you liked blonde hair and blue eyes. She preferred brown and hazel, like Maxwell’s. And besides, Francois had to get his mouth aromas fixed before she could even consider him dignified let alone a husband. The idea made her laugh out loud. Her married! To Francois! How wrong!
She considered telling Maxwell about this bizarre idea but then decided not to. She wouldn’t tell anyone. It was too embarrassing even thinking about it.
After school he took her for ice cream. They barely talked but it was nice anyway. Spending time with him was always nice. He was oddly funny, but not in an intentional way. He seemed to find her funny too but she didn’t know why.
Once at home, her mood went from very content to gloomy in the blink of an eye. Samantha was on the couch in her night gown, smelling badly and listening to the radio.
“Sam, you haven’t been there all day have you?”
“What if I have?” she shrugged simply. “No one’s going to care. How about you make dinner tonight, just for a change.”
“I’ve made dinner every night for the last two weeks,” Liz replied grumpily. “And besides, with what? We don’t have any food.”
“I borrowed some potatoes and vegetables from Johanna next door.”
“When are you going to look for a job? We could always use the money that dad left—”
“I’ll look for a job when I’m ready,” Samantha snapped. “And that money your father left is exactly that—your father’s. We are not to touch it. How will he feel when he gets back and it’s gone?”
Liz sighed. “But we don’t have anythi—”
“That’s enough!” she exclaimed. “The money will remain where it is.”
~*~
Sorry it took so long to get this out. Hope you enjoyed it. Thanks for you FB everyone
~nicola
“At ease lieutenant.”
Maxwell fastened his hands behind his back and slipped his feet apart. “Thank you Sir.”
“Take a seat, have some drink. Would you like a cigarette?”
“No thank you, Sir.”
When Major Hubert scratched his dirty fingers up and down his left side burn Maxwell looked away, scanning the badly lit tent with desperation. He guessed that Hubert knew who he was looking for and it was a bad sign that he didn’t try to put his worries to rest.
Maxwell sat down, desperate to get some liquor in his veins. “Sir...Can I please ask after the troops who entered—”
Hubert cut him off. “No you may not,” he said.
Maxwell stared at his dry lips and white hair unblinkingly. His eyes were such a bright blue, like the water in the Antarctic.
“It’s break time. How often do we get this? Just sitting around…drinking, playing cards? Enjoy it and that’s an order.”
Maxwell was not one to argue, no matter how much he needed information. He realized he probably knew the answer, but could not be certain. He was left to endure his misery for over an hour.
Finally, after he could no longer be referred to as sober Hubert said with as much drunken affection as he could muster, “They’re all gone, son.”
Maxwell looked down at the lines in the wooden bench, tracing the patterns with his eyes. “All of them?”
“All of them.”
Josephine regarded her husband with alarm. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.
Maxwell shot up from his chair. “What? What are you going on about?”
“Liz,” she said, very surprised by his attitude.
“What about her? I’m not even thinking about her right now. I need to go for a drive. I’ll see you later.”
“But you didn’t answer my question.”
“What makes that your business anyway?” Maxwell stormed across the large entrance hall and into the side rooms. “Angelo?” he said desperately, “I need a ride somewhere. Bring the car around please.”
He waited outside and though it was quite warm he put on his thickest jacket. He was sweating even before his Lincoln Zephyr pulled up.
“Signor, is everything alright?”
“Yes, everything’s fine Angelo. Will you please take me to the graveyard?”
“Sì.”
Maxwell gnawed on his knuckles for the duration of the ride. They were sore and on the verge of cracking when the vehicle came to a halt.
“I won’t be long,” he said grimly and used his foot to open the door. It didn’t sound like anyone else was around so he managed to get a moment to himself while he thought about his two brothers.
The youngest of the three Evans sons, Michael, had died in the first month of war. Maxwell remembered him being so serious all the time. The two of them had gotten on well, better than he and Kyle who was older than Maxwell and had died in the second year of the war. Kyle had been a prankster his whole life but in early ’38 that all ended when he fell in love.
Maxwell’s father did not approve of the girl and relations had been very bitter in the last year, despite the war and everything else. They were both too stubborn to forgive each other.
Michael had never known love. He’d only reached his nineteenth year and as far as Maxwell knew, he’d spent most of his life studying and reading books. Everyone had always regarded him as the most handsome in the family with his their mother’s blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes that were, unfortunately, downsized by his round spectacles.
Maxwell was convinced that part of the reason his father had passed away was because he couldn’t go on after losing two of his sons. He’d loved them all too much to stick around and see them all be taken from him. He’d passed away at the beginning of ’44, just before Philip had lost his eye sight.
Mrs Evans now spent day after day in a nursing home, watching the last years of her life pass her by. It was probably so quiet there for her, Maxwell thought, after spending twenty years in a rowdy household full of males.
After sucking in a large breath of smoke-tasting air Maxwell reached out and put his hand on one of the grave stones. The unexpected coldness was a shock to his system but he didn’t pull away.
Silently he spoke to the three of them. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.
He allowed himself another ten minutes of mourning before slowly ambling back the short distance to the road. Angelo was leaning against the car smoking a cigarette and quickly stomped it out and opened the door for him.
“Where to now?” he asked.
“Liz’s,” he replied with a sigh. “She’ll be at home today.”
~*~
When there was a knock at her door, Liz looked up in surprise and accidentally got some of her red nail polish on her dresser. Frantically, she tried to wipe it up with a soft yellow tissue.
“Yes Sam?” she called distractedly.
The door opened only a crack. “It’s me, Max. Can I come in?”
“Max!” she chirped. “Of course. Close the door behind you.”
He stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room for a little while until Liz got up and physically made him sit down. “You know what’s funny? Other than your unintentional awkwardness in every situation.”
“What would that be?” he asked.
“I could be butt naked right now and you wouldn’t have the faintest idea.”
Maxwell’s cheeks suddenly went bright red. “Oh…ah…are you naked right now?”
She laughed happily. “No, I’m not. I was just painting my nails.”
He sighed in relief.
She sat down on the bed next to him and crossed one of her knees over the other. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes…I just…I think I was incredibly rude to my wife a few moments ago.”
“You, incredibly rude? I don’t think you have it in you.”
“I left in a hurry, she was interrogating me.”
“Oh well then she deserved it.” She suddenly sprung to her feet. “Do you want to go for a walk? I think I need some fresh air, the nail polish fumes are making my head go la-la.”
He chuckled. “Alright.”
“I’ll just change my shirt,” she teased, “Don’t look.”
While walking down the street Liz’s neighbour ran out to her letterbox and called out. “Elizabeth! Elizabeth dear!”
Maxwell stopped walking and waited patiently while Liz talked to her. From where she was standing she could smell sweet perfume—roses and chamomile. Liz guessed it was coming from her neighbour.
“Yes Mrs Henderson? Is everything okay?”
Mrs Henderson was an elderly lady with dark grey hair that she constantly wore in a tight braid. She was very short with happily flickering hazel eyes and liver-spot covered hands. “I just wanted to give this to you,” she said and slipped Liz a small amount of money. “I know your mother has not got a job yet and I’m worried that you haven’t been eating.”
“I’ve been eating,” Liz answered quietly. She was embarrassed in front of Maxwell and swayed from foot to foot. Her hands were clutched together in front of her stomach. “And I can’t take your money. You don’t have enough for yourself.”
“Oh yes I do!” Mrs Henderson nodded furiously. “And you must take it. How is your mother?”
Liz’s smile faltered. “She’s…the same. Thank you.”
“Of course. Take care dear. Oh and before I forget: the show is going start at nine-thirty on Sunday. Will you come?”
“I’ll be there. See you later.”
After they’d walked a short distance Maxwell asked what that had been about. Liz shrugged. “Her hobby is sugar decorations and cake designs. She and a bunch of friends put on a show twice a year and reveal all their work. Once she made this huge butterfly…”
“Liz, I’m talking about your mother. She still hasn’t found work? How are you getting money?”
“We…aren’t.”
“But Liz…”
She sighed dramatically. “She’s just going through something at the moment, she’ll probably snap out of it sooner or later. Anyway, I’m working on getting some money from…”
Maxwell, very concerned asked, “From where?”
“My dad had a lot of savings that he’d built on before the war. There is quite a lot there now but…”
“Why have you taken so long to get it?”
“Samantha doesn’t want to touch it. Maxwell…I never told you this but they never found my father’s body during the war. He was missing in action. Sam…she still believes he’s alive somewhere and trying to get back home. She thinks he’ll want that money when he finally turns up.”
Maxwell was silent for a long time. She could see in his expression that he felt sorry for her and didn’t know what to say to help. “It is such a beautiful day today, you can’t imagine. The sky is this stunning light blue…there are no clouds…”
“Liz,” Maxwell interrupted her. “Can I ask you something?”
She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Alright.”
“Do you…think your father will come back?”
It took her a while to answer. “I don’t know.”
“It’s been two years,” he said very quietly.
She nodded. “I know that.”
Affectionately, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders for a moment and leaned his face towards hers. “Do you want my help? I can give your mother a job at the factory, it’s nothing glamorous but it’s something…”
“I’ll ask her.” She looked down. “But Maxwell, I can’t have you doing me any favours.”
“Why on earth not? That’s what friends are for isn’t it?”
“But…”
“Just let me see what I can do, alright? You don’t need this on your plate right now, your graduation is only one week away and you need to focus.”
She swallowed. “What am I going to do after I graduate? I don’t want to be a secretary like my mother.”
“What do most girls your age do after they’ve graduated?”
“They get married.”
Maxwell swallowed. “Do you want to get married?”
“Not because I have to. If I get married it’ll be because I love the person and want to.”
“That’s good. I’ve learnt myself that it doesn’t work without strong love.”
~*~
hey everyone, got impatient with my beta-reader and posted anyway. Hopefully she'll forgive me! lol! Hope you enjoyed it
~nicola
Maxwell fastened his hands behind his back and slipped his feet apart. “Thank you Sir.”
“Take a seat, have some drink. Would you like a cigarette?”
“No thank you, Sir.”
When Major Hubert scratched his dirty fingers up and down his left side burn Maxwell looked away, scanning the badly lit tent with desperation. He guessed that Hubert knew who he was looking for and it was a bad sign that he didn’t try to put his worries to rest.
Maxwell sat down, desperate to get some liquor in his veins. “Sir...Can I please ask after the troops who entered—”
Hubert cut him off. “No you may not,” he said.
Maxwell stared at his dry lips and white hair unblinkingly. His eyes were such a bright blue, like the water in the Antarctic.
“It’s break time. How often do we get this? Just sitting around…drinking, playing cards? Enjoy it and that’s an order.”
Maxwell was not one to argue, no matter how much he needed information. He realized he probably knew the answer, but could not be certain. He was left to endure his misery for over an hour.
Finally, after he could no longer be referred to as sober Hubert said with as much drunken affection as he could muster, “They’re all gone, son.”
Maxwell looked down at the lines in the wooden bench, tracing the patterns with his eyes. “All of them?”
“All of them.”
Josephine regarded her husband with alarm. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.
Maxwell shot up from his chair. “What? What are you going on about?”
“Liz,” she said, very surprised by his attitude.
“What about her? I’m not even thinking about her right now. I need to go for a drive. I’ll see you later.”
“But you didn’t answer my question.”
“What makes that your business anyway?” Maxwell stormed across the large entrance hall and into the side rooms. “Angelo?” he said desperately, “I need a ride somewhere. Bring the car around please.”
He waited outside and though it was quite warm he put on his thickest jacket. He was sweating even before his Lincoln Zephyr pulled up.
“Signor, is everything alright?”
“Yes, everything’s fine Angelo. Will you please take me to the graveyard?”
“Sì.”
Maxwell gnawed on his knuckles for the duration of the ride. They were sore and on the verge of cracking when the vehicle came to a halt.
“I won’t be long,” he said grimly and used his foot to open the door. It didn’t sound like anyone else was around so he managed to get a moment to himself while he thought about his two brothers.
The youngest of the three Evans sons, Michael, had died in the first month of war. Maxwell remembered him being so serious all the time. The two of them had gotten on well, better than he and Kyle who was older than Maxwell and had died in the second year of the war. Kyle had been a prankster his whole life but in early ’38 that all ended when he fell in love.
Maxwell’s father did not approve of the girl and relations had been very bitter in the last year, despite the war and everything else. They were both too stubborn to forgive each other.
Michael had never known love. He’d only reached his nineteenth year and as far as Maxwell knew, he’d spent most of his life studying and reading books. Everyone had always regarded him as the most handsome in the family with his their mother’s blonde hair and beautiful blue eyes that were, unfortunately, downsized by his round spectacles.
Maxwell was convinced that part of the reason his father had passed away was because he couldn’t go on after losing two of his sons. He’d loved them all too much to stick around and see them all be taken from him. He’d passed away at the beginning of ’44, just before Philip had lost his eye sight.
Mrs Evans now spent day after day in a nursing home, watching the last years of her life pass her by. It was probably so quiet there for her, Maxwell thought, after spending twenty years in a rowdy household full of males.
After sucking in a large breath of smoke-tasting air Maxwell reached out and put his hand on one of the grave stones. The unexpected coldness was a shock to his system but he didn’t pull away.
Silently he spoke to the three of them. I hope you’re happy wherever you are.
He allowed himself another ten minutes of mourning before slowly ambling back the short distance to the road. Angelo was leaning against the car smoking a cigarette and quickly stomped it out and opened the door for him.
“Where to now?” he asked.
“Liz’s,” he replied with a sigh. “She’ll be at home today.”
~*~
When there was a knock at her door, Liz looked up in surprise and accidentally got some of her red nail polish on her dresser. Frantically, she tried to wipe it up with a soft yellow tissue.
“Yes Sam?” she called distractedly.
The door opened only a crack. “It’s me, Max. Can I come in?”
“Max!” she chirped. “Of course. Close the door behind you.”
He stood uncomfortably in the middle of the room for a little while until Liz got up and physically made him sit down. “You know what’s funny? Other than your unintentional awkwardness in every situation.”
“What would that be?” he asked.
“I could be butt naked right now and you wouldn’t have the faintest idea.”
Maxwell’s cheeks suddenly went bright red. “Oh…ah…are you naked right now?”
She laughed happily. “No, I’m not. I was just painting my nails.”
He sighed in relief.
She sat down on the bed next to him and crossed one of her knees over the other. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes…I just…I think I was incredibly rude to my wife a few moments ago.”
“You, incredibly rude? I don’t think you have it in you.”
“I left in a hurry, she was interrogating me.”
“Oh well then she deserved it.” She suddenly sprung to her feet. “Do you want to go for a walk? I think I need some fresh air, the nail polish fumes are making my head go la-la.”
He chuckled. “Alright.”
“I’ll just change my shirt,” she teased, “Don’t look.”
While walking down the street Liz’s neighbour ran out to her letterbox and called out. “Elizabeth! Elizabeth dear!”
Maxwell stopped walking and waited patiently while Liz talked to her. From where she was standing she could smell sweet perfume—roses and chamomile. Liz guessed it was coming from her neighbour.
“Yes Mrs Henderson? Is everything okay?”
Mrs Henderson was an elderly lady with dark grey hair that she constantly wore in a tight braid. She was very short with happily flickering hazel eyes and liver-spot covered hands. “I just wanted to give this to you,” she said and slipped Liz a small amount of money. “I know your mother has not got a job yet and I’m worried that you haven’t been eating.”
“I’ve been eating,” Liz answered quietly. She was embarrassed in front of Maxwell and swayed from foot to foot. Her hands were clutched together in front of her stomach. “And I can’t take your money. You don’t have enough for yourself.”
“Oh yes I do!” Mrs Henderson nodded furiously. “And you must take it. How is your mother?”
Liz’s smile faltered. “She’s…the same. Thank you.”
“Of course. Take care dear. Oh and before I forget: the show is going start at nine-thirty on Sunday. Will you come?”
“I’ll be there. See you later.”
After they’d walked a short distance Maxwell asked what that had been about. Liz shrugged. “Her hobby is sugar decorations and cake designs. She and a bunch of friends put on a show twice a year and reveal all their work. Once she made this huge butterfly…”
“Liz, I’m talking about your mother. She still hasn’t found work? How are you getting money?”
“We…aren’t.”
“But Liz…”
She sighed dramatically. “She’s just going through something at the moment, she’ll probably snap out of it sooner or later. Anyway, I’m working on getting some money from…”
Maxwell, very concerned asked, “From where?”
“My dad had a lot of savings that he’d built on before the war. There is quite a lot there now but…”
“Why have you taken so long to get it?”
“Samantha doesn’t want to touch it. Maxwell…I never told you this but they never found my father’s body during the war. He was missing in action. Sam…she still believes he’s alive somewhere and trying to get back home. She thinks he’ll want that money when he finally turns up.”
Maxwell was silent for a long time. She could see in his expression that he felt sorry for her and didn’t know what to say to help. “It is such a beautiful day today, you can’t imagine. The sky is this stunning light blue…there are no clouds…”
“Liz,” Maxwell interrupted her. “Can I ask you something?”
She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “Alright.”
“Do you…think your father will come back?”
It took her a while to answer. “I don’t know.”
“It’s been two years,” he said very quietly.
She nodded. “I know that.”
Affectionately, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders for a moment and leaned his face towards hers. “Do you want my help? I can give your mother a job at the factory, it’s nothing glamorous but it’s something…”
“I’ll ask her.” She looked down. “But Maxwell, I can’t have you doing me any favours.”
“Why on earth not? That’s what friends are for isn’t it?”
“But…”
“Just let me see what I can do, alright? You don’t need this on your plate right now, your graduation is only one week away and you need to focus.”
She swallowed. “What am I going to do after I graduate? I don’t want to be a secretary like my mother.”
“What do most girls your age do after they’ve graduated?”
“They get married.”
Maxwell swallowed. “Do you want to get married?”
“Not because I have to. If I get married it’ll be because I love the person and want to.”
“That’s good. I’ve learnt myself that it doesn’t work without strong love.”
~*~
hey everyone, got impatient with my beta-reader and posted anyway. Hopefully she'll forgive me! lol! Hope you enjoyed it
~nicola
Samantha’s sobbing was so loud at night that Liz found herself unable to sleep for many hours. Finally, two evenings before her graduation she could not take it anymore.
In her white nightgown with ribbons she got out of bed and made her way down the hallway. She didn’t bother to knock, just walked in and sat down on the side of the bed.
“Momma?” she asked softly. “Are you going to be okay?”
Samantha wiped her eyes and looked up at her sadly. Mutely she shook her head.
Liz inhaled loudly. “Is this about dad?”
Samantha didn’t answer. They sat in silence for a long time.
“You called me ‘momma’. You haven’t done that in years.”
“I’m worried about you.”
Samantha sniffled. “Don’t worry about me. Think only of yourself.”
Liz looked down at her hands. She was clutching them together so tightly that they were hurting. She didn’t lessen her grip. “Mr. Evans said he could get you a job if you like.”
She knew that it wouldn’t help Samantha to know that. She could get a job on her own if she wanted to. It was just that she didn’t. She no longer cared for life outside of their little house.
“You’ll be fine,” she said hopefully. “This rough patch will be over eventually. You’ll go on with life. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Samantha didn’t say anything. Her eyes were now closed.
Liz reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears. She let her fingers remain on her cheek for a long moment before she got up and headed back to her room.
Before she closed the door she heard Samantha say quietly, “I love you.”
~*~
“Does it matter that I use this time to complain about my wife?”
Maxwell’s psychiatrist smirked. “No, not at all. You’d be surprised at how many people ask me that about their partners—both male and female.”
“Oh.” Maxwell pressed his lips together and then blurted out, “It’s just that she constantly wants me to talk about my future and when it’s not that, it’s about my past. She wants every detail of what happened while I was away but doesn’t realize that it’s not an easy thing to discuss.”
“She is right in trying to draw it out of you Maxwell, it is not good to hold in such bad memories. How will you ever cope with them?”
“I cope with them fine.”
The two men sighed in unison.
“Have you visited your mother yet?”
Maxwell shook his head. He heard the scribbling of his psychiatrist’s pen as he wrote on his pad.
“Do you often think about her?”
Maxwell closed his eyes for a moment and tried to picture his mother the last time he’d seen her, before the war. “Occasionally,” he answered.
“Do you have any idea why you can’t find it within yourself to visit her?”
“I want her to remember me the way I was before,” he said simply. “I think she’d be disappointed in the person I am now.”
His psychiatrist started writing again. When he was done he put his pen down. Maxwell heard it roll to the floor and the shuffle of clothes as Mr. Spears searched for it under his desk.
“Maxwell…tell me,” he said eventually, “What is it about yourself that you think would disappoint your mother?”
Maxwell scratched his chin and tilted his head to the side. His shirt suddenly felt tighter. “I don’t know,” he answered a little breathlessly. “She doesn’t know I’m…blind.”
“Try not to be so pessimistic. Let’s call your condition: ‘visually impaired’.”
Maxwell inwardly groaned.
“Let me just make sure I have this right,” his psychiatrist said. “You prefer that your mother believes you are dead rather than visually impaired?”
“My eye sight is not my only problem.”
“Yes? Please…go on.”
“My scars,” he replied.
“You look perfectly fine to me.”
“My internal scars. She’d see them. They’d distress her.”
~*~
During the graduation ceremony Liz was sitting in the third row from the front. On the stage was the principal, all the senior teachers, Maxwell and his wife. Josephine gave a short speech on how much she hoped the girls would use the knowledge they had gained during their time here. Liz glanced around her and noticed that half of the students weren’t even listening to her let alone taking what she was saying seriously.
When it came time to go and collect their certificates Liz had to wait impatiently throughout half of the alphabet before she could go too. A part of her was worried she would trip on her robe and embarrass herself. Because of this fear she kept her gaze on her feet and was very careful while climbing the few steps.
The principal shook her hand first and then Maxwell. Liz felt a burst of happiness when, in recognition of her, he stroked the back of her hand and held on for slightly longer. When she looked up she thought she saw him wink, too.
After the ceremony was finished everyone made their way to the big marquee that had been set up on the school field. It wasn’t a fancy affair but the flower bouquets and white lanterns were a nice touch. A dance floor had been set up and in the corner a four piece band.
Samantha managed a smile and chat with a few of the other mothers but Liz saw through it. She knew she wouldn’t be able to have a good time with so many worries on her mind.
“Elizabeth, hello!”
“François?” Liz gulped. “I forgot you were going to be here. But of course…your sister…”
“Yes,” he smiled and kissed her cheek. “Finally graduated. How do you feel?”
“I feel…” she groped for the right word but couldn’t find it. “I’ll let you know later.”
“Hello!”
It was his sister, Antoinette. She was one of those people that Liz liked to refer to as overly bubbly. She needed a break from her after ten minutes. If it wasn’t for her stunningly beautiful looks a lot of people wouldn’t give her the time of day. She had blonde lockets and perfect check bones. Her lips were always a luscious red and her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she barked, “but I am dying for a dance and well…I don’t have a partner. I know it’s terribly embarrassing but I’m even willing to dance with my big brother if I have to. Francois will you please come with me?” she pouted. “Pretty please?”
“Do I have to?” he winced.
“Yes, or I’ll beat you up.” She laughed at herself and patted Liz’s arm. “I hope you don’t mind Liz?”
“No, of course not. Go ahead.”
Liz stood by herself for a good ten minutes before Maxwell finally came and found her with a glass of whisky in his hand. As soon as he was near enough she threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. He laughed and hugged her back.
“Officially finished school,” he said into her hair. “You must be happy?”
“No,” she pulled away. “Now I don’t have excuse to get a ride home from you any more. Oh! Guess who’s here? My grandmother, Elaine…would you like to meet her? I advise against it.”
“Why? Of course I’d be happy to meet her.”
She took his hand and led him towards the entrance. The air was crisp outside compared to the already muggy tent.
Elaine was standing with her daughter and they were talking quietly to one another while having a cigarette. “Look at you two, so anti-social. Elaine! This is Mr. Evans; I told you about him remember?”
Elaine was sixty-years old but looked very good for her age. Her long gold-grey hair was always worn in a high beehive on the top of her head and the spectacles she needed changed with the fashions. Her clothes were designer and looked impeccable. She was very predictable.
“Mr. Evans,” Elaine took the hand he was holding out and shook it elegantly. “How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you Mrs…?”
“Hampton.”
“Mrs Hampton,” he smiled. “It is nice that you could join us at the school this evening. It must have been a long journey from your home in Devon.”
Liz didn’t like the suspicious glances Elaine kept giving Maxwell. She screwed her nose up at Samantha but she simply flicked some ash from her cigarette and looked away.
“It was quite long yes,” Elaine said. “But if not for my granddaughter’s graduation, then what?”
“That is true.”
“Maxwell let’s go back inside, it’s chilly out here,” Liz interrupted. “If you want you can talk to Elaine later.”
“I apologize,” he managed to splutter out before he was dragged away. “Liz…” he said, “What was that for?”
They stopped walking and stood close to the white nylon wall of the tent. A lantern was shining on Maxwell’s face, casting red patterns on his forehead. Liz smiled.
“She’s a horrible sadistic woman isn’t she? I am saving you from spending too long with her. I hate it when she comes and visits. Thank goodness she hardly ever does.”
“That is not kind.”
“She is not kind.”
He tried not to smile. “Sometimes you act your age very much. Are you aware of that?”
“Am I not allowed?” her lips twitched. “I thought you found that part of my intrigue.”
She could tell he didn’t quite know what to think of that comment.
“How about we attempt dancing?” he said. “I used to be quite good.”
“I’m afraid for my safety,” she said, “You’ll stand on my toes.”
He laughed. “You’re probably right.”
They were silent for a long moment. Liz watched everyone buzz past them with large smiles of their faces. There were teachers in the corner across from them socializing with parents. A lot of them were staring at Maxwell and her suspiciously.
She couldn’t have cared less. She wasn’t their pupil anymore.
“This party is quite typical, isn’t it?” she asked Philip. “Very mundane.”
“You aren’t enjoying yourself? Perhaps you need a drink.”
“No…we should leave and go somewhere else. We could to the cinema and listen to Forever Amber. I’ll blindfold myself so I can be like you.”
“Don’t be silly. Who’s the main star?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Linda Darnell, I think.”
“Liz! There you are. My sister finally buggered off so we can share a dance now.”
It was pesky Francois again. Liz sighed. “No Francois, I was just about to leave. I don’t want to dance.”
“Oh just one,” he pleaded. “Come on.”
“No I don’t want to.”
Maxwell interrupted with, “Charlie go have one dance with the boy, my goodness. We’ll leave afterwards.”
Liz sighed. “Fine.”
Later on as they walked towards his car, Maxwell asked who Francois was.
“Oh, just some guy…he wants to marry me.”
Maxwell stopped walking. “He does? Really?”
“Yes,” she said.
He laughed. “You say it so matter-of-factly.”
“Well why not?” she shrugged. “I’m not going to or anything.”
“Aw. The poor guy. I hope you let him down easy.”
“Sure I did.”
~*~
Hope you liked it guys, sometimes it's so fun writing this. Thanks for your kind feedback and sorry about the whole blonde-brunette mistake I made in the last one. Also...I'm surprised how many people keep asking me Max and Liz's ages considering I've told you in the story a few chapter ago.
Liz is 19 and Max is 29-30. I can't remember specifically, lol!
Take care,
~nicola
In her white nightgown with ribbons she got out of bed and made her way down the hallway. She didn’t bother to knock, just walked in and sat down on the side of the bed.
“Momma?” she asked softly. “Are you going to be okay?”
Samantha wiped her eyes and looked up at her sadly. Mutely she shook her head.
Liz inhaled loudly. “Is this about dad?”
Samantha didn’t answer. They sat in silence for a long time.
“You called me ‘momma’. You haven’t done that in years.”
“I’m worried about you.”
Samantha sniffled. “Don’t worry about me. Think only of yourself.”
Liz looked down at her hands. She was clutching them together so tightly that they were hurting. She didn’t lessen her grip. “Mr. Evans said he could get you a job if you like.”
She knew that it wouldn’t help Samantha to know that. She could get a job on her own if she wanted to. It was just that she didn’t. She no longer cared for life outside of their little house.
“You’ll be fine,” she said hopefully. “This rough patch will be over eventually. You’ll go on with life. Everything will be fine. You’ll see.”
Samantha didn’t say anything. Her eyes were now closed.
Liz reached out and tucked her hair behind her ears. She let her fingers remain on her cheek for a long moment before she got up and headed back to her room.
Before she closed the door she heard Samantha say quietly, “I love you.”
~*~
“Does it matter that I use this time to complain about my wife?”
Maxwell’s psychiatrist smirked. “No, not at all. You’d be surprised at how many people ask me that about their partners—both male and female.”
“Oh.” Maxwell pressed his lips together and then blurted out, “It’s just that she constantly wants me to talk about my future and when it’s not that, it’s about my past. She wants every detail of what happened while I was away but doesn’t realize that it’s not an easy thing to discuss.”
“She is right in trying to draw it out of you Maxwell, it is not good to hold in such bad memories. How will you ever cope with them?”
“I cope with them fine.”
The two men sighed in unison.
“Have you visited your mother yet?”
Maxwell shook his head. He heard the scribbling of his psychiatrist’s pen as he wrote on his pad.
“Do you often think about her?”
Maxwell closed his eyes for a moment and tried to picture his mother the last time he’d seen her, before the war. “Occasionally,” he answered.
“Do you have any idea why you can’t find it within yourself to visit her?”
“I want her to remember me the way I was before,” he said simply. “I think she’d be disappointed in the person I am now.”
His psychiatrist started writing again. When he was done he put his pen down. Maxwell heard it roll to the floor and the shuffle of clothes as Mr. Spears searched for it under his desk.
“Maxwell…tell me,” he said eventually, “What is it about yourself that you think would disappoint your mother?”
Maxwell scratched his chin and tilted his head to the side. His shirt suddenly felt tighter. “I don’t know,” he answered a little breathlessly. “She doesn’t know I’m…blind.”
“Try not to be so pessimistic. Let’s call your condition: ‘visually impaired’.”
Maxwell inwardly groaned.
“Let me just make sure I have this right,” his psychiatrist said. “You prefer that your mother believes you are dead rather than visually impaired?”
“My eye sight is not my only problem.”
“Yes? Please…go on.”
“My scars,” he replied.
“You look perfectly fine to me.”
“My internal scars. She’d see them. They’d distress her.”
~*~
During the graduation ceremony Liz was sitting in the third row from the front. On the stage was the principal, all the senior teachers, Maxwell and his wife. Josephine gave a short speech on how much she hoped the girls would use the knowledge they had gained during their time here. Liz glanced around her and noticed that half of the students weren’t even listening to her let alone taking what she was saying seriously.
When it came time to go and collect their certificates Liz had to wait impatiently throughout half of the alphabet before she could go too. A part of her was worried she would trip on her robe and embarrass herself. Because of this fear she kept her gaze on her feet and was very careful while climbing the few steps.
The principal shook her hand first and then Maxwell. Liz felt a burst of happiness when, in recognition of her, he stroked the back of her hand and held on for slightly longer. When she looked up she thought she saw him wink, too.
After the ceremony was finished everyone made their way to the big marquee that had been set up on the school field. It wasn’t a fancy affair but the flower bouquets and white lanterns were a nice touch. A dance floor had been set up and in the corner a four piece band.
Samantha managed a smile and chat with a few of the other mothers but Liz saw through it. She knew she wouldn’t be able to have a good time with so many worries on her mind.
“Elizabeth, hello!”
“François?” Liz gulped. “I forgot you were going to be here. But of course…your sister…”
“Yes,” he smiled and kissed her cheek. “Finally graduated. How do you feel?”
“I feel…” she groped for the right word but couldn’t find it. “I’ll let you know later.”
“Hello!”
It was his sister, Antoinette. She was one of those people that Liz liked to refer to as overly bubbly. She needed a break from her after ten minutes. If it wasn’t for her stunningly beautiful looks a lot of people wouldn’t give her the time of day. She had blonde lockets and perfect check bones. Her lips were always a luscious red and her eyes sparkled like blue diamonds.
“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she barked, “but I am dying for a dance and well…I don’t have a partner. I know it’s terribly embarrassing but I’m even willing to dance with my big brother if I have to. Francois will you please come with me?” she pouted. “Pretty please?”
“Do I have to?” he winced.
“Yes, or I’ll beat you up.” She laughed at herself and patted Liz’s arm. “I hope you don’t mind Liz?”
“No, of course not. Go ahead.”
Liz stood by herself for a good ten minutes before Maxwell finally came and found her with a glass of whisky in his hand. As soon as he was near enough she threw her arms around him and gave him a big hug. He laughed and hugged her back.
“Officially finished school,” he said into her hair. “You must be happy?”
“No,” she pulled away. “Now I don’t have excuse to get a ride home from you any more. Oh! Guess who’s here? My grandmother, Elaine…would you like to meet her? I advise against it.”
“Why? Of course I’d be happy to meet her.”
She took his hand and led him towards the entrance. The air was crisp outside compared to the already muggy tent.
Elaine was standing with her daughter and they were talking quietly to one another while having a cigarette. “Look at you two, so anti-social. Elaine! This is Mr. Evans; I told you about him remember?”
Elaine was sixty-years old but looked very good for her age. Her long gold-grey hair was always worn in a high beehive on the top of her head and the spectacles she needed changed with the fashions. Her clothes were designer and looked impeccable. She was very predictable.
“Mr. Evans,” Elaine took the hand he was holding out and shook it elegantly. “How do you do?”
“Very well, thank you Mrs…?”
“Hampton.”
“Mrs Hampton,” he smiled. “It is nice that you could join us at the school this evening. It must have been a long journey from your home in Devon.”
Liz didn’t like the suspicious glances Elaine kept giving Maxwell. She screwed her nose up at Samantha but she simply flicked some ash from her cigarette and looked away.
“It was quite long yes,” Elaine said. “But if not for my granddaughter’s graduation, then what?”
“That is true.”
“Maxwell let’s go back inside, it’s chilly out here,” Liz interrupted. “If you want you can talk to Elaine later.”
“I apologize,” he managed to splutter out before he was dragged away. “Liz…” he said, “What was that for?”
They stopped walking and stood close to the white nylon wall of the tent. A lantern was shining on Maxwell’s face, casting red patterns on his forehead. Liz smiled.
“She’s a horrible sadistic woman isn’t she? I am saving you from spending too long with her. I hate it when she comes and visits. Thank goodness she hardly ever does.”
“That is not kind.”
“She is not kind.”
He tried not to smile. “Sometimes you act your age very much. Are you aware of that?”
“Am I not allowed?” her lips twitched. “I thought you found that part of my intrigue.”
She could tell he didn’t quite know what to think of that comment.
“How about we attempt dancing?” he said. “I used to be quite good.”
“I’m afraid for my safety,” she said, “You’ll stand on my toes.”
He laughed. “You’re probably right.”
They were silent for a long moment. Liz watched everyone buzz past them with large smiles of their faces. There were teachers in the corner across from them socializing with parents. A lot of them were staring at Maxwell and her suspiciously.
She couldn’t have cared less. She wasn’t their pupil anymore.
“This party is quite typical, isn’t it?” she asked Philip. “Very mundane.”
“You aren’t enjoying yourself? Perhaps you need a drink.”
“No…we should leave and go somewhere else. We could to the cinema and listen to Forever Amber. I’ll blindfold myself so I can be like you.”
“Don’t be silly. Who’s the main star?”
She thought about it for a moment. “Linda Darnell, I think.”
“Liz! There you are. My sister finally buggered off so we can share a dance now.”
It was pesky Francois again. Liz sighed. “No Francois, I was just about to leave. I don’t want to dance.”
“Oh just one,” he pleaded. “Come on.”
“No I don’t want to.”
Maxwell interrupted with, “Charlie go have one dance with the boy, my goodness. We’ll leave afterwards.”
Liz sighed. “Fine.”
Later on as they walked towards his car, Maxwell asked who Francois was.
“Oh, just some guy…he wants to marry me.”
Maxwell stopped walking. “He does? Really?”
“Yes,” she said.
He laughed. “You say it so matter-of-factly.”
“Well why not?” she shrugged. “I’m not going to or anything.”
“Aw. The poor guy. I hope you let him down easy.”
“Sure I did.”
~*~
Hope you liked it guys, sometimes it's so fun writing this. Thanks for your kind feedback and sorry about the whole blonde-brunette mistake I made in the last one. Also...I'm surprised how many people keep asking me Max and Liz's ages considering I've told you in the story a few chapter ago.
Liz is 19 and Max is 29-30. I can't remember specifically, lol!Take care,
~nicola
100% Pure New Zealand Beef
Though Frank Sinatra was only playing quietly it still flooded into the kitchen. Liz was standing at the sink in her slippers washing the dishes while Samantha and her herd of friends congregated in the living room.
The women had not been invited around but had turned up unexpectedly. Their plan was to ‘cheer up their terribly depressed friend’ with carrot cake and tea.
Samantha was in her robe but didn’t bother to run and change. She didn’t do things like that anymore. The woman that used to pride herself in being impeccably dressed no longer cared to dress at all.
Liz was made to pause her painting and come and be a waitress for them. She refilled so many cups of tea that her back was sore from bending over.
Now that they were all stuffed to the brim with pots and pots of the liquid she was free to go—and clean the dishes. From the kitchen she could hear their loud boisterous conversation and the exasperating music.
“A heavenly kiss, could I resist? And then she dims the lights…and then she holds me tight…hmm hmmm hmmm…”
Liz really hated all the noise. She tried to block them all out but they were like squawking birds all fighting over a worm in their nest.
Suddenly she heard Samantha cry, “No please stop! I will not listen to this!”
One of her friends replied, “But you really must. If you don’t remarry for your sake then for Elizabeth. She needs a father figure.”
“Yes, it really would be best,” someone else commented.
Liz frowned. It wouldn’t be best for her if Samantha got remarried. It would be best for her if Samantha was happy. Which she never truly could be with another man.
“Do you recall Harold’s friend Trent? He once expressed an interest in you. His wife died two years ago and he’s looking for someone…he could be perfect for you. He’s quite rich.”
“He’s not what I would call handsome but he’s not too hard on the eyes.”
Suddenly there was a smash of glass and a cry of such horrible anger that Liz felt the colour drain from her face. All the women in the room went silent and all that could be heard were the loud, heart wrenching sobs and howls coming from Samantha.
Liz was afraid to go in there but knew she had to try and console her. Hesitantly she pressed open the swinging door and the sight before her sent shivers down her spine.
Her mother had banged her fists against the cups on the table, breaking a few of them and cutting her hands. She was now on her knees, her head bent forward so it was touching the floor. It shook from side to side and her bleeding hands were clenched and banging the ground repeatedly. “No…no…no…” she murmured. She sounded as if she was in complete agony.
All of her friends were horrified, not knowing what to do.
“Mother?” she asked softly, only to get no reply.
~*~
“Helllllo?” Josephine called cheerfully. She knocked on the door five times and impatiently waited ten seconds before knocking again. “Liz! Oh Liz are you home dear?”
No one answered so she went around the back of the house. She was planning to leave the gowns she’d brought somewhere safe so that Liz may find them later.
When she got there however, she saw that the back door was open. With her head arched inside she again called out, “Hello? Anyone home?”
She thought she heard mumbling so unsurely she stepped inside. “Hello?” she repeated. When she got five paces down the hall she saw Liz in one of the rooms sitting on the end of a bed looking at the floor.
“You are here!” she said happily. “Why didn’t you answer the door dear?”
She walked into the room and placed the gowns down on the bed beside her. When Liz looked up Samantha saw the redness of her cheeks and eyes.
“Oh my! You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?” she knelt in front of her and put a hand on her knees. “Liz, what’s happened?”
Liz swallowed. “My mother…she’s been…”
“Been what?”
“Institutionalized.”
Josephine frowned. “What…why?”
“She just broke down…” Liz sniffled. “Her friends thought she needed to be put in someone’s care…”
“Oh my,” Josephine said. “My dear I’m so sorry. Are you here all by yourself?”
Liz lowered her eyes to the carpet and clasped her hands together on her lap. “Yes.”
“When did she get…taken away?”
“About three hours ago,” Liz replied. “I don’t know what to do.”
Josephine rubbed Liz’s arm and then drew her into a hug. “You poor girl. What a horrible thing for you to have to deal with. Its okay, Max and I will look after you.”
“I don’t want Max to know, I’m worried about what he will think…” she said.
“No, no, no…you shouldn’t worry. This isn’t your fault,” Josephine consoled. “This isn’t anyone’s fault. Max will think none the different of you. Oh your poor mother. Come, I’ll take you there now. He shall want to make sure you are alright.”
“No…” Liz said. “I should stay here.”
“You can’t. It’s not right to be on your own.” Josephine tugged her to her feet. “You’ll come and have something to eat and you’ll feel so much better. You’ll see.”
~*~
Liz did go to Maxwell’s house. He wasn’t there when they arrived but, hoping he would arrive in the next hour, Josephine ordered the cook to make lunch for three.
While they were sitting waiting for him they had a drink on the balcony. Josephine attempted to get Liz’s mind off what was going on in her life. “The reason I came over to your house,” she said. “Was to drop off some frocks of mine and Hannah’s that we no longer fit…or just don’t wear anymore. We thought you might like them. Some may be a bit long but we can have them brought up if you like them.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Liz told her.
“You may need them in the future to go to parties or…”
Suddenly a voice interrupted her. “I really need to change the locks on the door. Strangers just wander in whenever they feel like it…”
“Max!” Josephine smiled. “Hello. Where have you been?”
“I’ve been…at a check up. Did I hear Liz’s voice?”
“Hello,” Liz got up and kissed his cheek. “We’re sorry to march into your house. I don’t want to be a bother.”
He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Liz, you’re never a bother. You know that.”
She smiled back, her heart missing a beat. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t expect you today, especially with my wife of all people. Josephine, you aren’t corrupting my precious friend are you?”
Josephine touched her hand to the collar of her white blouse as she laughed. “Of course not! You horrid man. Think so little of me…why I never…” then suddenly she pursed her lips as if she realized what he was probably referring to and huffed before changing the subject. “No doubt lunch will be ready.”
“Lunch?” he asked. “What is the time? I’m sure it’s too late for lunch.”
“Too early for dinner,” Liz commented. “It’s three-thirty.”
As they walked back inside she quietly asked Josephine if she could please tell Maxwell what happened. “I’m just going to use the bathroom,” she said.
When she rejoined them in the dinning room Maxwell stood up from his chair. “I’m so sorry…” he started to say. “You know that whatever I can do…”
She cleared her throat and replied, “Please, let’s not talk about it. I cannot bear the thought of my mother right now.”
He swallowed and nodded. They both took a seat and their food was soon brought out.
Josephine chatted infatiguably throughout the course of their meal whereas Maxwell was deadly silent. Liz tried to keep up with the conversation but often found her mind wandering elsewhere. Josephine was oblivious, continuing on unabated as if she was the blind person at the table, not Maxwell who seemed to be conscious of everything.
It wasn’t until their plates had been taken away and replaced with glasses of iced tea that Maxwell finally spoke. “You will stay here?” he asked. His voice was surprisingly but unintentionally cold.
Liz opened her mouth to object but he must have realized his tone. He quickly lathered his voice in tenderness and continued with, “For as long as you like. Please do.”
She scratched her temple. “But what about my home?”
“You can’t stay there by yourself,” Josephine said. “That’s just silly.”
“I can’t stay here either,” Liz retorted. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not?” Maxwell asked.
Liz studied him. He was wearing a white button down shirt and black dress pants with sensible shoes. He’d taken off his jacket and tie when he’d first arrived but he still seemed formal. So did his wife. She thought that they would have looked quite the nice couple when they were first married.
Maxwell’s expression was indifferent but occasionally he couldn’t hide the compassion and concern he was most likely feeling.
“I don’t want to be the burden, I just want to be the friend,” she finally replied to his question. “I don’t want to be the girl that needs looking after either.”
“You aren’t any of those things,” Maxwell said. “And you’re more than just a friend to me. You’re the sun.”
Even Josephine seemed surprised by that comment. She raised her eyebrows at him.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you are okay, even if that includes you moving in here permanently.” He suddenly got up and walked towards the bar. “I need a drink,” he said.
Liz swallowed and averted her eyes from Josephine.
~*~
After his wife had gone home, Maxwell took Liz home to gather together a few things that she might need for the night.
“I’m going to have to get a job,” she commented in the car. “Maybe I’ll just be a secretary.”
“What about a cinema review writer?” he asked. “You’ve given up hope of ever succeeding as that?” He folded his hands on his lap.
“That’s just a fantasy,” she answered.
Once back at his apartment he excused himself from her company because he had some important accounts to work on in his office. His accountant arrived and disappeared into the room with him.
She was left to find something to do and decided on sketching. Many hours and drawings passed before she heard the record player start and Maxwell’s crackly Jazz tunes flooded the apartment.
She guessed his accountant was gone so she got up and knocked on his office door. He called her in.
“You don’t mind cigar smoke do you?” he asked. He was sitting on his burgundy leather couch near the window. “I can stop.”
“No, I’m going to go to bed in a moment,” she told him. It wasn’t until he patted the spot beside him that she felt comfortable to sit down.
“How have you been amusing yourself?” he asked.
She kept her eyes glued on his face. “I was sketching.”
“Can I see?” he joked. She didn’t laugh.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He sighed and reached for his whisky glass. He couldn’t find it and when he finally did he almost knocked it over. After a large gulp he said, “What are you going to do Liz?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know.”
He had another sip and then said, “Me neither.”
They were quiet for a long time and he drew her into a hug. It was as if he knew exactly the sadness that she was feeling and wanted to do absolutely anything he could to help.
She remained on the couch with his arm around her and her head on his shoulder for a long time. It was quite late when she finally decided to leave him alone.
“Goodnight,” she said and—not knowing entirely why—leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his quickly. He was surprised but didn’t seem to mind.
He sought out her hand and squeezed it gently. “Goodnight.”
After leaving the room she licked her lips and realized they tasted of whisky and cigar smoke.
~*~
hopefully the names Charlie and Philip aren't present in this update at all!! lol! sorry again guys!
The women had not been invited around but had turned up unexpectedly. Their plan was to ‘cheer up their terribly depressed friend’ with carrot cake and tea.
Samantha was in her robe but didn’t bother to run and change. She didn’t do things like that anymore. The woman that used to pride herself in being impeccably dressed no longer cared to dress at all.
Liz was made to pause her painting and come and be a waitress for them. She refilled so many cups of tea that her back was sore from bending over.
Now that they were all stuffed to the brim with pots and pots of the liquid she was free to go—and clean the dishes. From the kitchen she could hear their loud boisterous conversation and the exasperating music.
“A heavenly kiss, could I resist? And then she dims the lights…and then she holds me tight…hmm hmmm hmmm…”
Liz really hated all the noise. She tried to block them all out but they were like squawking birds all fighting over a worm in their nest.
Suddenly she heard Samantha cry, “No please stop! I will not listen to this!”
One of her friends replied, “But you really must. If you don’t remarry for your sake then for Elizabeth. She needs a father figure.”
“Yes, it really would be best,” someone else commented.
Liz frowned. It wouldn’t be best for her if Samantha got remarried. It would be best for her if Samantha was happy. Which she never truly could be with another man.
“Do you recall Harold’s friend Trent? He once expressed an interest in you. His wife died two years ago and he’s looking for someone…he could be perfect for you. He’s quite rich.”
“He’s not what I would call handsome but he’s not too hard on the eyes.”
Suddenly there was a smash of glass and a cry of such horrible anger that Liz felt the colour drain from her face. All the women in the room went silent and all that could be heard were the loud, heart wrenching sobs and howls coming from Samantha.
Liz was afraid to go in there but knew she had to try and console her. Hesitantly she pressed open the swinging door and the sight before her sent shivers down her spine.
Her mother had banged her fists against the cups on the table, breaking a few of them and cutting her hands. She was now on her knees, her head bent forward so it was touching the floor. It shook from side to side and her bleeding hands were clenched and banging the ground repeatedly. “No…no…no…” she murmured. She sounded as if she was in complete agony.
All of her friends were horrified, not knowing what to do.
“Mother?” she asked softly, only to get no reply.
~*~
“Helllllo?” Josephine called cheerfully. She knocked on the door five times and impatiently waited ten seconds before knocking again. “Liz! Oh Liz are you home dear?”
No one answered so she went around the back of the house. She was planning to leave the gowns she’d brought somewhere safe so that Liz may find them later.
When she got there however, she saw that the back door was open. With her head arched inside she again called out, “Hello? Anyone home?”
She thought she heard mumbling so unsurely she stepped inside. “Hello?” she repeated. When she got five paces down the hall she saw Liz in one of the rooms sitting on the end of a bed looking at the floor.
“You are here!” she said happily. “Why didn’t you answer the door dear?”
She walked into the room and placed the gowns down on the bed beside her. When Liz looked up Samantha saw the redness of her cheeks and eyes.
“Oh my! You’ve been crying. What’s wrong?” she knelt in front of her and put a hand on her knees. “Liz, what’s happened?”
Liz swallowed. “My mother…she’s been…”
“Been what?”
“Institutionalized.”
Josephine frowned. “What…why?”
“She just broke down…” Liz sniffled. “Her friends thought she needed to be put in someone’s care…”
“Oh my,” Josephine said. “My dear I’m so sorry. Are you here all by yourself?”
Liz lowered her eyes to the carpet and clasped her hands together on her lap. “Yes.”
“When did she get…taken away?”
“About three hours ago,” Liz replied. “I don’t know what to do.”
Josephine rubbed Liz’s arm and then drew her into a hug. “You poor girl. What a horrible thing for you to have to deal with. Its okay, Max and I will look after you.”
“I don’t want Max to know, I’m worried about what he will think…” she said.
“No, no, no…you shouldn’t worry. This isn’t your fault,” Josephine consoled. “This isn’t anyone’s fault. Max will think none the different of you. Oh your poor mother. Come, I’ll take you there now. He shall want to make sure you are alright.”
“No…” Liz said. “I should stay here.”
“You can’t. It’s not right to be on your own.” Josephine tugged her to her feet. “You’ll come and have something to eat and you’ll feel so much better. You’ll see.”
~*~
Liz did go to Maxwell’s house. He wasn’t there when they arrived but, hoping he would arrive in the next hour, Josephine ordered the cook to make lunch for three.
While they were sitting waiting for him they had a drink on the balcony. Josephine attempted to get Liz’s mind off what was going on in her life. “The reason I came over to your house,” she said. “Was to drop off some frocks of mine and Hannah’s that we no longer fit…or just don’t wear anymore. We thought you might like them. Some may be a bit long but we can have them brought up if you like them.”
“That’s very kind of you,” Liz told her.
“You may need them in the future to go to parties or…”
Suddenly a voice interrupted her. “I really need to change the locks on the door. Strangers just wander in whenever they feel like it…”
“Max!” Josephine smiled. “Hello. Where have you been?”
“I’ve been…at a check up. Did I hear Liz’s voice?”
“Hello,” Liz got up and kissed his cheek. “We’re sorry to march into your house. I don’t want to be a bother.”
He smiled and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “Liz, you’re never a bother. You know that.”
She smiled back, her heart missing a beat. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t expect you today, especially with my wife of all people. Josephine, you aren’t corrupting my precious friend are you?”
Josephine touched her hand to the collar of her white blouse as she laughed. “Of course not! You horrid man. Think so little of me…why I never…” then suddenly she pursed her lips as if she realized what he was probably referring to and huffed before changing the subject. “No doubt lunch will be ready.”
“Lunch?” he asked. “What is the time? I’m sure it’s too late for lunch.”
“Too early for dinner,” Liz commented. “It’s three-thirty.”
As they walked back inside she quietly asked Josephine if she could please tell Maxwell what happened. “I’m just going to use the bathroom,” she said.
When she rejoined them in the dinning room Maxwell stood up from his chair. “I’m so sorry…” he started to say. “You know that whatever I can do…”
She cleared her throat and replied, “Please, let’s not talk about it. I cannot bear the thought of my mother right now.”
He swallowed and nodded. They both took a seat and their food was soon brought out.
Josephine chatted infatiguably throughout the course of their meal whereas Maxwell was deadly silent. Liz tried to keep up with the conversation but often found her mind wandering elsewhere. Josephine was oblivious, continuing on unabated as if she was the blind person at the table, not Maxwell who seemed to be conscious of everything.
It wasn’t until their plates had been taken away and replaced with glasses of iced tea that Maxwell finally spoke. “You will stay here?” he asked. His voice was surprisingly but unintentionally cold.
Liz opened her mouth to object but he must have realized his tone. He quickly lathered his voice in tenderness and continued with, “For as long as you like. Please do.”
She scratched her temple. “But what about my home?”
“You can’t stay there by yourself,” Josephine said. “That’s just silly.”
“I can’t stay here either,” Liz retorted. “It wouldn’t be right.”
“Why not?” Maxwell asked.
Liz studied him. He was wearing a white button down shirt and black dress pants with sensible shoes. He’d taken off his jacket and tie when he’d first arrived but he still seemed formal. So did his wife. She thought that they would have looked quite the nice couple when they were first married.
Maxwell’s expression was indifferent but occasionally he couldn’t hide the compassion and concern he was most likely feeling.
“I don’t want to be the burden, I just want to be the friend,” she finally replied to his question. “I don’t want to be the girl that needs looking after either.”
“You aren’t any of those things,” Maxwell said. “And you’re more than just a friend to me. You’re the sun.”
Even Josephine seemed surprised by that comment. She raised her eyebrows at him.
“I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure you are okay, even if that includes you moving in here permanently.” He suddenly got up and walked towards the bar. “I need a drink,” he said.
Liz swallowed and averted her eyes from Josephine.
~*~
After his wife had gone home, Maxwell took Liz home to gather together a few things that she might need for the night.
“I’m going to have to get a job,” she commented in the car. “Maybe I’ll just be a secretary.”
“What about a cinema review writer?” he asked. “You’ve given up hope of ever succeeding as that?” He folded his hands on his lap.
“That’s just a fantasy,” she answered.
Once back at his apartment he excused himself from her company because he had some important accounts to work on in his office. His accountant arrived and disappeared into the room with him.
She was left to find something to do and decided on sketching. Many hours and drawings passed before she heard the record player start and Maxwell’s crackly Jazz tunes flooded the apartment.
She guessed his accountant was gone so she got up and knocked on his office door. He called her in.
“You don’t mind cigar smoke do you?” he asked. He was sitting on his burgundy leather couch near the window. “I can stop.”
“No, I’m going to go to bed in a moment,” she told him. It wasn’t until he patted the spot beside him that she felt comfortable to sit down.
“How have you been amusing yourself?” he asked.
She kept her eyes glued on his face. “I was sketching.”
“Can I see?” he joked. She didn’t laugh.
“Is something wrong?” she asked.
He sighed and reached for his whisky glass. He couldn’t find it and when he finally did he almost knocked it over. After a large gulp he said, “What are you going to do Liz?”
She wrapped her arms around herself. “I don’t know.”
He had another sip and then said, “Me neither.”
They were quiet for a long time and he drew her into a hug. It was as if he knew exactly the sadness that she was feeling and wanted to do absolutely anything he could to help.
She remained on the couch with his arm around her and her head on his shoulder for a long time. It was quite late when she finally decided to leave him alone.
“Goodnight,” she said and—not knowing entirely why—leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his quickly. He was surprised but didn’t seem to mind.
He sought out her hand and squeezed it gently. “Goodnight.”
After leaving the room she licked her lips and realized they tasted of whisky and cigar smoke.
~*~
hopefully the names Charlie and Philip aren't present in this update at all!! lol! sorry again guys!
100% Pure New Zealand Beef