[guide.chat] chapter eighteen in mysterious ways
- From: vanessa <qwerty1234567a@xxxxxxxxx>
- To: "GUIDE CHAT" <guide.chat@xxxxxxxxxxxxx>
- Date: Wed, 20 Mar 2013 00:50:54 -0000
IN MYSTERIOUS WAYS
Chapter 18
It was getting quite dark when we arrived in Folkestone. The station was
almost deserted, and the few people who were still about, disappeared into the
night too, once our train left. Martin was nowhere to be seen.
Full of anticipation and joy, I had been looking forward to see him - and now
there was no sign of him. I felt deflated, as if all my dreams had suddenly
turned into dust.
"What if they are not coming?" Ilse voiced my own fears.
Apart from our concern about Martin and Tom, we were in a strange town, it was
getting dark, and we had nowhere to go. Of course, we could find a hotel; a
taxi would take us there. But we didn't have enough cash for a taxi, intending
to go to the bank tomorrow. As it was, we'd have to walk into town, to find a
hotel.
But what had happened to Martin? And where was Tom? Surely, the men wouldn't
just abandon us, leave us here, and not turn up. I couldn't believe it - but
there was a tiny doubt in me now, getting bigger each minute, as we wandered
through the deserted dark station.
Walking out into the street, we looked around. But no one was waiting here,
either. What should we do? It was cold, and we couldn't even see an open cafe
anywhere.
"Let's wait ten minutes," I suggested uneasily, not knowing what else to do.
Just then a car drove up, and the men jumped out. "Thank God," Martin said,
taking me in his arms. There had been a delay on the road - that was all.
We went to have a warm drink in a cafe, and drove to our boarding house.
"I was hoping there would be a vacancy where we are staying, but they are
full," Martin said with regret. "It would have been nice."
I agreed wholeheartedly - it would have been very nice. But at least our
boarding house was not very far. It bore no resemblance to Highmoor Manor at
all. Standing in a street of similar semi-detached houses surrounded by nice
gardens, the house was not big by Mrs Ashworth' standards, it had only four
bedrooms. But everything was in pristine condition, and spotlessly clean.
The landlady took us to a pretty room with two single beds, gave us our keys,
and showed us where to come for breakfast. Then we went back to the hall where
the men waited, and we all went out for a meal.
I was so glad to be with Martin again; and very relieved that everything was
alright. When he hadn't been at the station, I realized how much he meant to
me. Every minute it became clearer to me how much I loved Martin. I couldn't
think of a life without him anymore.
I knew he felt like me - but then he had loved me for quite some time, never
making a secret of it. Even in Newport he told everyone that he wanted to
marry me. He had always known what he wanted. Not like Peter - but I pushed
this thought away. It was over - 'vorbei'.
Later, after a nice evening, we went back to our B&B, with Ilse and Tom walking
in front, their arms linked, stopping now and again for a kiss. Martin and I
made up the rear in a similar manner. "If we were married, it would be so
different - we'd be going home together," he whispered in my ear, after a kiss
that went on and on, full of beautiful sexy promises, that in time, inevitably,
would have to come true.
Next morning, Ilse and I had a leisurely bath before going down for breakfast.
After a good sleep, we were ready to explore Folkestone. But first, two huge
breakfasts had to be taken care of - a highly enjoyable task. I promised
myself, whatever should happen - at least sometimes there would be such a
breakfast. Ilse agreed. It would set us up for the day, she said practically,
thinking ahead. We wouldn't need much for lunch, if any at all.
Exploring Folkestone, inevitably, we came to the sea. Apart from crossing the
channel, I had been to the sea only once, in Italy. I had loved to swim in the
warm Mediterranean Sea with its gentle waves - totally different waves, from
the waves we saw now.
Turning the corner, this immense expansion of water lay suddenly before us in
all its majestic glory. But it was not just the ocean's breathtaking beauty
taking hold of me now, but its power - I could feel this power. Ilse must have
felt it too, because, like me, she just stood there, and for a while we stayed
silent, just feeling this beauty and strength - and perhaps something more we
had no name for. This was no gentle Mediterranean Sea - this was an ocean full
of power and strength and magic.
Though the sky was blue there were some clouds, and a strong wind blew,
increasing in strength as we walked down to the shore until the waves almost
touched our feet. And what waves they were - almost as high as us. Suddenly a
wave came racing towards us, and we had to run, and jump back. Even so it
reached us, but having lost much of its strength, the water spilled harmlessly
over our shoes.
I laughed, and my friend joined in. "We'll swim in it yet," I promised myself,
and Ilse agreed. "But on a warmer day," she said. "Though it has to be soon."
It had to be soon, because we couldn't stay too long in Folkestone, even if we
felt like it now. It was so beautiful here by the sea. Walking along the
beach, we discussed our plans.
Ilse would have liked to stay much longer, but restricted herself to two weeks
- she could justify two weeks holiday, she said, but no more. She was in love,
and I was happy for her. Tom was a very nice man. But they were both
sensible, and Ilse would go back to Vienna. In the summer Tom planned to come
to Austria, and he would stay for three weeks. Three weeks were a long time -
who knows? Who could know what would happen this summer - or, for that matter,
in the time in between.
My friend was sensible. Staying in bed and breakfast was expensive, and she
wanted to hang on to her savings. She had thought it all out, and decided to
be sensible.
But then she didn't have Martin, who made it difficult to be sensible, because
he was so certain we were meant for each other. All we had to do, was: get
married.
It even made sense, the way Martin put it. He earned well - forty pound a week
- enough so I could stay with him in B&B when he worked away from Newport. Or
we'd make our home with Pat, and he'd spend every weekend with me. He was even
prepared to give up his job and work in Newport - he would do it for me, he
said, though it would mean less money. But we'd still have enough. We'd live
at Pat's for a while until we bought our own place. Or we could apply for a
council house like his sisters - it would only take a few months. The council
were building a whole new estate in Bettws; his sisters had houses there. The
way Martin said it, getting a house seemed so easy.
We only had to get married. Without any fail, he always came back to it. He
loved me, and by now we both knew, I loved him too. Once we were married, I
could get a job if I wanted to, I wouldn't need a permit anymore. But it was
up to me, I didn't have to work, he earned enough. He also earned enough to
have children, and wanted as many as possible. His brother Mathew had four
already, and Martin hoped to catch up.
Well, I did want children, though perhaps not four, two or three would be
enough, at least for the beginning. But we could decide later how many
children we wanted. We were not yet married. Now I had said it - not yet.
But I had only said it because Martin was so persuasive, and so certain.
And I wasn't certain at all. I was in love with Martin; I had no doubt
anymore. But we didn't know each other long enough, having only spent one week
in Newport together. Here in Folkestone, we had less opportunity to really get
to know each other. Meeting every evening, we went for long walks if the
weather permitted. But it was still cold, so more often we went to the pub,
together with Ilse and Tom, and the crowd from Standard Telephone.
And Martin kept talking of marriage - and we had not even made love.
But that was not up to him, but to me - though if he had really tried to seduce
me - who could know? But he honoured his promise - and I loved him for that
too.
Martin didn't care about my mother, or Peter. I had told him the whole story.
He thought Peter was a fool for letting me go, and dismissed him - he belonged
to the past. But my mother he took seriously.
"We'll face your mother together, Trudi," he promised. "I'll take my holiday
in June - or even in May, and we'll go to Vienna and sort it all out. You have
to decide if you want to give up your flat. Perhaps you'd like to keep it for
holidays."
Everything was always so simple for Martin. When I told him what my mother was
like, he said it didn't matter to him what she said or did - it was me he
wanted to marry. But as she was my mother, he would love and admire her
because of that - whatever she was like. She must have done something right,
to have me as her daughter. And we could always go over for a holiday to see
her, and she'd come to us - we'd send her the ticket. We would manage, and
together we'd manage my mother - or not - however it turned out didn't really
matter, because we had each other.
Martin was good with words, and he was popular with everyone, even with
strangers here in Folkestone. One night in the pub, someone played the piano
and Martin started to sing - well, several of his friends sang too, but his
voice rose in volume above all the others. When the song ended, people
applauded and kept on asking Martin to sing again. And he sang his Welsh
songs, with his mates joining in the refrain.
In the pubs in Newport he had often sung too - we all had. But everyone had
known him there. Here it was different - people were strangers, until Martin
began to sing. Then the atmosphere changed, and he was the focus of attention.
People loved him, and we were strangers no more. Everyone asked us to drink
up, and new drinks appeared. They complimented Martin on his voice - and me on
my marvellous husband.
Even stranger's thought we were married - something must show. And Martin was
so persuasive - so why wouldn't I agree to marry him? I loved him, what was I
waiting for?
If we didn't get married I'd have to leave Folkestone. Martin had offered to
pay for my boarding house, but I wouldn't let him. And in any case, it would
not be a solution for long. Finding a job seemed impossible, as potential
employers asked for the permit first. This I had already found out. And it
seemed that a permit, without the firm promise of a job, could not be had. So
my thoughts went round in circles, and I found no solution.
I'd have to go back to Austria with Ilse, and perhaps Martin could come over in
the summer with Tom. And then we would see.
One morning I came across the postcard from Peter, which I had pushed into my
bag when we left Highmoor Manor. I showed Ilse the card. "Shall I phone him?"
I asked her.
What had happened with Peter seemed so long ago, in another time, another life
almost.
"Why not?" Ilse was very casual about it, and I thought, she is right, why
shouldn't I phone him? So, after breakfast, on our walk to the beach, we went
to a telephone box. I dialled the number on the card, and heard his voice
immediately.
"Hallo Peter," I said. "I got your card." I felt awkward, he must know I got
it, or I wouldn't be ringing him.
"Hallo Trudi, so nice to hear from you. How are you? How is Ilse?"
I said we were both well. But it was strange, he was not the same man anymore
- he wasn't the Peter I had been so close with. We were like two strangers,
making polite conversation. He talked about his new job in Shoreham and what
it was like there, and I told him we had left Jane, and were in Folkestone now.
Neither of us said anything that really mattered, until Peter remarked
casually, perhaps we could meet one day. And I said, yes, that would be nice.
Suddenly I had enough of all this talking around something. It was over, so
what was the point? If he wanted to say something, he should have said it by
now. So I told him, I was very busy right now, because I was getting married
soon. Perhaps he would like to come to the wedding? There was a short pause,
and then Peter said, he would try. Then he asked about Martin, and I told him
something - anything - before saying goodbye.
Ilse and I carried on walking towards the sea. I was glad it was over. Now it
really was finally over, and this time, it had all been my doing. And I was
totally free of him. Yes, it had been the right thing to do.
But something was still left. There was a pain in my heart, and my tummy felt
funny. I didn't understand how I felt, or why - I was just feeling this great
big sadness. But I told myself, it was only natural. We had been together so
long, something must still be there lingering on, which had come to the surface
now.
Or perhaps I just felt like this, because neither Peter nor I had said what we
really thought, or what we felt.
And they talk about the English having a stiff upper lip - though mine felt
decidedly wobbly just now.
The weather was beautiful on that day; it was already quite warm, with the
promise of summer in the air. This morning, we had put our bathing things into
our handbags - just in case. Though it was only the middle of April, Ilse and
I were ready to try the water. Who could know if there would be another
chance? With the sun bright and strong in the blue sky, this was the right day
for it.
Ignoring the people going past wrapped in their coats, we changed behind our
towels and walked into the sea. The water was cold, absolutely icy. But it
was also exhilarating, walking into this icy cold ocean and feeling the
enormous power of the waves. I bent in the knees to let the water come up to
my face, but it was too cold, and I had to jump up quickly again, into the
warmer air. But the sea decided otherwise, a wave lifted me, and I swam. Ilse
was beside me, and for a few short minutes we swam side by side. It was
wonderful, feeling the sea with its strength and its beauty and power -
glorying in it with our bodies as well as our minds, and our hearts. But all
too soon our bodies decided they had enough, and we began to feel numb. So we
swam back to shore, towelled ourselves dry and dressed quickly. I tingled all
over, but I wasn't cold anymore.
All of a sudden I felt better. The sea had washed me clean of Peter, and from
all that was or was not, or had been - and could have been, or perhaps might
still be. And from all this talking around.
In the evening we told Tom and Martin we had swam in the sea. They couldn't
believe it at first. "You went in the sea, now, in the middle of April!" the
men exclaimed. It was April seventeenths.
Later, going back to the boarding house, Martin and I sat in a park for a
while, kissing and talking. But it was too cold to sit in the open for long,
and I realised we couldn't go on like this, just meeting each other every
evening. And what was I waiting for, anyway? Martin was waiting for me to say
yes to getting married, and to making love. But it didn't necessarily have to
be in this order. It was up to me, after all. And even if I wouldn't get
married - at least not just yet - there was nothing at all to be said anymore
against making love. Martin's thoughts must have meandered in a similar
direction, because he tentatively suggested he could book a room in a small
hotel for tomorrow. And I voiced no objection.
I would always remember that night. We had everything Martin could think of: a
nice hotel, an excellent dinner in the restaurant, with candles on the table
and wine instead of the usual beer. In our room waited a bottle of champagne,
ready to be opened. But it didn't get opened - at least not just yet - because
we made love. All night long, and again and again - though in between we did
find the time to open the bottle and to drink the champagne.
It was a perfect night, and making love with Martin was everything I had dreamt
of and more. We were so much in love, and finally our love found its beautiful
physical expression. Yes, I could spend my life with this man.
In the morning I must have dozed off, because Martin woke me gently with a
kiss. "Come on, Trudi," he said. "We have to go."
"What's the hurry?" I knew he should be working, but surely he could be late
just this once. I snuggled up closer to him. For a few seconds he responded
and I knew soon we'd make love again. But he pulled away, reluctantly and with
great effort, but obviously he had decided otherwise.
"Come on, Trudi," said my lover again, "we have to go."
"But Martin, where do we have to go to?"
"We'll go to the registry office, and arrange to get married, Trudi."
I was taken aback. Yes, it had been a beautiful night, and making love was all
I could have imagined - and more. But was that enough to go straight to the
registry office? And in such a hurry? On the other hand, it was very
gratifying my lover was in such a hurry after our first night together. And I
was in a happy mood, prepared to indulge him.
Martin was already in the shower; he wouldn't even talk anymore. So I got up
too and into the shower, and in between washing we kissed. But every time I
started to linger, he pulled away - clearly determined to get me to the
registry office - one way or another - whatever the cost.
But we did take time for breakfast, and I tried talking about it all, insisting
we should at least put it off, and think about it again, and consider. But
Martin didn't agree.
"What is there to think about, or to consider? We love each other and want to
be together. And we want children. So we get married, Trudi."
Put it like this, he had a point - well, several, really. So I thought, what
if I do go along to the registry office? They would just put our names down,
and tell us to come back in two weeks with all our papers. We'd fix a date for
the wedding - the soonest would be in six weeks - enough time to think about
it. And enough time to back out. Though I didn't really want to back out
anymore - I just wanted more time.
So, even if I did go along with Martin now, I'd still have six weeks at the
very least to make up my mind.
I should have known better - I should have known Martin was right, when he said
that we wouldn't have to wait long.
But on the way to the Town Hall I still believed in my version. I was quite
certain it would be the same here as back home. Waiting less than six weeks
and without all sorts of documents, in Austria, no one would have put your name
down for anything. But I was wrong. It really was different here.
Martin knew the way to the registry office, and once there, we didn't have to
wait. He knew exactly what to do, and soon we were before the right person.
Martin did all the talking, and the man wrote it down. Then we were asked:
"how soon do you want to get married?"
"As soon as possible," my lover replied firmly.
"Then come back on the day after tomorrow, you can get married by special
licence."
I was stunned. It couldn't be possible. Something had to be done quickly.
"Don't I need any papers?" I almost stammered.
"Are you a foreigner?" the man wanted to know.
"Yes." I was relieved. It would not be quite as simple as that.
"Then you must show you passport." It was just as simple as that.
I was still stunned as we walked out of the registry office. This could not
really have happened. But it had, and it was true: we were registered to be
married on the day after tomorrow.
My objections about the speed, and how it had happened, were just kissed away,
with Martin assuring me that he loved me, and everything would be just fine.
Being married and sharing our lives would be absolutely wonderful. We'd be
together - nothing else mattered.
Having arrived at his boarding house, Martin asked me to come in with him. His
mates were waiting; they hadn't been able to start work without him, as he was
the foreman.
He told the men to forget work for now, because we were getting married.
Everyone cheered. The landlady brought a bottle of champagne and glasses, and
we were toasted. Tom went to get Ilse, and as soon as she came we were toasted
again. As if by magic, food and more wine appeared, and we had a party. But
not for too long, because Martin insisted they had to get back to work in the
afternoon. So Ilse and I were left alone until evening.
We walked back down to the sea and along the beach, and we talked. I could
still get out of this marriage if I wanted to. There was still time. But did
I want to?
I did not - not anymore. So what, if we had known each other only a very short
time. Perhaps it wasn't long enough to make such a life changing decision -
but what was the alternative? Only, to go back to Vienna, and perhaps never
seeing each other again.
Martin would be so hurt if I backed out now, and I would be hurt too. And by
now, I was sure it would work, especially if I did my part too. I had no
doubts about Martin. He was a mature man, twenty-eight, and he knew his own
mind. And he loved me, just as I loved him so much too now.
If I went back to Austria, I wouldn't see him for a long time - and perhaps
never. I couldn't bear it. I wanted to be with him - all of the time, and all
of my life. I loved Martin, he was my man. Yes, we would get married, I
decided, burying the tiny doubts I still had, deep down somewhere.
Ilse said it was quite natural, having doubts. Every bride did.
Bride - I almost panicked, because I had nothing to wear. I had to buy
something for the wedding - but there was still tomorrow.
Later, after we all had a meal together, Martin and Tom took us back to their
lodging house, where their friends were waiting for us. Over glasses of wine
one of the men made a speech, and gave me a thick envelope filled with money as
a wedding present - they would also arrange our reception. Everyone cheered,
and toasted us, and we celebrated some more.
Next morning the men went work, so with plenty of time Ilse and I went to Marks
and Spencer.
As this was no conventional wedding I could be unconventional too, so I bought
two really dressy blouses and several T-shirts and jumpers, and another pair of
slacks. I had decided against buying a suit or a dress, because the right
accessories would be expensive. With my suitcase sent on to Vienna, I had only
practical clothes in my travel-bag, things to go with trousers. If I bought a
dress, I couldn't wear my anorak, but would need a coat and shoes with a heel.
No, it was just as well to stick to slacks and a nice frilly blouse - and a new
handbag, of course.
Ilse also decided to buy new clothes, so we were suitably occupied for most of
the day - especially as I had to buy sexy underwear and a nightdress, perhaps
even a negligee. Though I was pretty sure I wouldn't wear it for long.
Still, I could at least put it on, it would be my wedding night, after all.
Tom had told us it would be bad luck to see the bridegroom on the day before
the wedding, so, alone for the evening, Ilse and I went along the beach for a
long walk. It was cold. The wind blew and there were clouds, but suddenly a
full moon appeared. It just stood there over the sea, as if beckoning, as if
saying: take your chance and be happy. And the sea also seemed to be talking
to me, and though I didn't quite understand what she said, I had the feeling
she understood me. Then I saw the reflection of the moon in the clear water,
moving and twisting in the waves, as if he were playing. The moon mirrored
itself in the sea, just like Martin and me. My heart lost the heaviness it had
carried since I made this life-changing decision, and I felt happy again.
Yes, it would work out, I was certain now. I loved Martin and he loved me.
And he was quite sure it wasn't too soon to get married. He had enough
certainty for us both, and now I was certain too.
So, on the next day, this beautiful spring day on the twentieth April 1966, in
the registry office in Folkestone, we were married.
And whatever happened after, or didn't, and whatever went right or went wrong -
I always was glad, I said yes.
It all had to happen this way, because we were to receive the most marvellous
gift: a new life. On January sixteenth our son was born, my beautiful baby boy
- who is now a man I am proud of. And he carries the best of both Martin and
me - and with him, the best in us both carries on.
Besides, we were happy, and we had a good time, being married. We even had
fun, lots of it - as long as it lasted, that is - which is another long
story...
from
Vanessa The Google Girl.
my skype name is rainbowstar123
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