BOTH SIDES OF THE MOON

 

                                                                    Chapter Fourteen

 

Jonathan was devastated. It seemed to him that each time he picked himself up, there was something, or someone, to knock him down again. Last night his mother had told him that she wanted to marry Edward Willett. “Edward Willett.” the name reverberated, over and over, round and round in his mind. Of all the people she could have picked, she was going to marry him. The man who let his dad die!

     He got to school early as usual. Breakfast had been difficult, so he left as soon as he was able. He could see that his mother had not had a good night, and her red eyes told him that she had been crying. She had said nothing except “Good morning Jonathan.” He ate his breakfast in silence, and left without saying good bye. When he saw Claire coming towards him, he was surprised to realize that, although they just made up, he wished now that she was not there .

    Too late for that now, she had just about reached him. She put out her arms, expecting him to do the same so that could give each other a hug. When he did not respond, and just stood there looking at the ground, she took a step back, and gave him a good hard look. Not so many hours ago he had been loving her, and now, she thought, he was as cold as ice.

    “What’s wrong with you then; what have I done to upset you?”

    Jonathan didn’t know what to say, or how to explain. He knew that he was in a bad mood, and he knew why; but paradoxically, he couldn't really say ‘why’.

    “Sorry Claire,” he said, “It’s nothing to do with you; it’s just that I’ve got something on my mind.”

    “Oh’ he's got something on his mind,” she said to an imaginary audience, “So he thinks he can treat anybody as he likes, does he? Very nice, I don’t think.”

    “Sorry Claire.” he said again, this time with a sadness she didn’t notice the first time.

    “Alright Jonathan, what is it; let’s get it sorted?” she said in a slightly bossy manner which she sometimes adopted. “It can’t be that bad; can it?”

    “Bad enough, but never mind, I can sort it out.”

    “What does he mean, ‘never mind’?” half turning and once again appealing to her invisible audience, then back to Jonathan. “Are we going to start having secrets from each other already?”

    She was cross with him now, and was not going to leave it like that. “Unless we can talk to each other we have no future.” her displeasure now clear to see.

    “Sorry Claire” for the third time.

    “Oh’ stop saying sorry Clare, and tell me what’s wrong.”

    Jonathan was now looking, and feeling, very gloomy, and Claire allowed the softer side of her nature to emerge. She took his hand, and held it to her face. “What is it Jonathan; let me try to help.”

    There was a longish pause before he managed to say, “My mum wants to get married.”

    Claire also waited a few moments. She didn’t know much about his mum yet, and hadn’t heard about a boy friend.

    “That sounds great Jonathan, why is that such a problem; don’t you like the idea?”

    “No”

    “But why?” she asked “If your mum loves someone and wants to get married, you should be happy for her.”

    Jonathan hadn’t replied, so Claire carried on. “She’s had so much to put up with, and now your dad’s gone; why not?”

    “Because it’s him from the hospital.”

    Jonathan had kept Claire more or less up to date with the situation regarding the hospital, and had told her most of what he had learned from his mother, so she knew pretty well how things had been in the Marshall home. More recently she had heard of the help and attention his mother had received from this hospital doctor.

    “You mead Edward Willett, don’t you?” she asked, still not knowing why the idea was upsetting Jonathan so much. “But what’s wrong with that?"

    “He let my father die.”

    Claire was stunned. Most of the facts of the accident, and of Mr Marshall’s injuries were known now, and it was clear that his chance of survival had been virtually nil. She could hardly believe what she had just heard Jonathan say.

    “What utter rubbish!” was all she said, but with a touch of anger. “That man has gone out of his way to help you and your mum, and you thank him by saying that he killed your dad.”

    “I didn’t say he killed him.” he said defensively

    “Well you might just as well have,”she retorted, now she was angry. “He sound’s very nice to me, and you ought to be pleased for your mum.”

    Jonathan was shocked to have been contradicted so firmly, and was trying to gain ground when they heard the bell calling them to assembly. They walked towards the building, together but miles apart, and when they approached the main door Jonathan said, “See you at lunch time.” but was shocked by her reply as they mounted the few steps, “Not like you are at the moment, you won’t.”

    He followed quickly as she went through the door. On the other side she stopped. “You’ll have to get yourself together or you’ll be on your own.”

    She turned to go to her class and left him standing, making no attempt to offer him a kiss. In a moment he had lost sight of her amongst all the other students, and he, standing there for a long time, was feeling very mixed up, and rather alone.

    He had thought that he had got it pretty well sorted out, and life was starting to be good again.. “What does she want to get married for?” he was thinking. “We are alright as we are.”    

    Selfishly, if unintentionally, he was thinking only of himself, unaware; uncaring; of his mothers needs.

 

Rodney Wilson had also made an effort to get to school early. As always there was a 'heap' of jobs to do, and whenever he could he put in a extra hour or two, thereby managing to prevent the back log from growing out of sight. At the moment he was glad of it, as it kept him busy. The last day or two had been easier, now that he had convinced himself that his relationship with Wendy really was over. Of that much he was certain. He hadn’t convinced himself yet that he didn’t care, but gradually he was beginning to realize that his jocular prediction of the lanb to the slaughter to his mother so long ago might have been prophetic.

    Maybe he had been the lamb after all!.

    He was busy working through his English class monthly ‘mocks’ marking with a tick, routine answers if correct, and with a word or two where some understanding was lacking. Answers that indicated no understanding at all would be heavily underlined in red, and suggestions for improvement made rather more graphically. He was generally pleased with the efforts his students were making, and the red pen wasn’t called into use too often.

    Eventually he came to the one bearing the name Jonathan Marshall, and Rodney perceived the need to be careful. He was conscious that Jonathan had, for more reasons than one, assumed more prominence in his life than most of his other students. He must not therefore allow himself to confer on him any advantage because of this, and neither must he overcompensate to Jonathan’s disadvantage. It was a fine line and he realized that precisely because he was going through this thought process, meant that Jonathan was indeed being treated differently, and that bothered him.

    Academically Jonathan was not his star pupil, though he was far from his worst. He had a fairly good grasp of the subject, but like many others he was often fooled by the complexities of the English language, and he had to work at it. That was true of many of his friends, and Rodney did try to balance all the factors, in making his judgements. Trouble at home and family strife was all to common these days and Jonathan was not the only student to be emotionally stretched.

    Just the same, Rodney reasoned, he had just gone through a bad time, and he tried to be as supportive as possible for all his pupils when it was needed.

    He marked Jonathan's paper as fairly as he was able, and then went on to another. Before long that particular set of papers was nearly dealt with, and it was time to break off to go down to assembly. He noticed that he only had about half a dozen left to do, and quickly leafing through them, he spotted Claire Trewell’s paper. She was one of his stars; always near the top, and would almost always demonstrate complete comprehension. As usual her paper was spotless, her answers pleasing to him for their insight, and a pleasure to read. A quick column of ticks later and he was on his way, down the stairs, knowing that he had left it just that little bit late, and forgetting, like all the students, the safety officer’s (his colleague Mr Jacob) entreaty: 'Walk with care, and you’ll get there'. He entered the assembly hall at the moment Mr Pickering started to speak, so any thought of finding a seat was abandoned, and he resigned himself to half an hour on his feet.

    It was a long and rather boring half hour, but it was finally over. Staying by the door so he could see the pupils as they left the hall, he was surprised to see Claire leave on her own, and he noticed that her eyes were red, but didn’t see Jonathan. He left the hall following her and some other students, who he knew to be going to his class. As generally is the case when he entered the classroom he  was greeted by the usual, almost obligatory noise, as his charges for the next two hours ‘welcomed’ him.

    Jonathan and Claire were both at their places, both looking rather downcast, and neither of them joining in the clamour.  For starters his class had a half hour study of Shakespeare’s ‘As you like it’, during which he could complete marking the last few papers. That task accomplished he walked slowly between the desks, distributing the newly marked test papers to their respective owners.

    After that, he returned to the front of the class, at which point he opened up a discussion session on the ‘Bard’s’ classic work.

    There was a ten minute break on the hour, and on the signal his classroom emptied very quickly, except Jonathan, who remained at his desk.

    Rodney was himself preparing to leave, when he noticed that Jonathan was not moving. “Are you not going to go out?” he asked him.

    “No I’ll stay here sir, if it’s OK. I don’t feel like going out.”

    “You alright; your not unwell are you?”

    “No, I’m OK sir.” Jonathan answered, hoping that ‘sir’ would go.

    “Alright Jonathan, but I think you should get some fresh air.”

    Rodney left, and with half of his break gone, there was no time now to go to his office, so he strolled around the vicinity of his classroom. He noticed Claire sitting on her own by a window, looking rather sorry for herself.

    He wondered across. “Hello Claire,” he said “something up? You look a bit sad.”

    Claire looked at him with a look that tried to be a smile, but didn’t quite make it.  “Hello Mr Wilson,” she said, “I’m alright thank you.” then she did manage a smile. “We’ve had a few words that’s all; I suppose you noticed.”

    Claire was an intelligent girl, and was older than her years in many ways, and he found it easy to talk to her.

    “Yes I had noticed.” he said, now smiling himself, “I hope it doesn’t spoil it for you.”

    “Do you mind if I tell you something?” she said, as if she had suddenly decided.

    “What is it Claire?” he asked

    “Well something has come up and he needs to talk to someone; he needs some advice.” She knew that Mr Wilson would know who she meant by he.

    “Am I the one?” he said, “I thought he didn’t like me.” he added

    “Oh’ he does now,” Claire said, as she stood up, “he thinks you great.”

    Taking the lead, knowing that it was time to resume studies, she started to walk back to the class taking her teacher with her. As they walked she said, “I wish you would talk to him, I know he will listen to you.”

    “What is it about?” he asked

    “His mother wants to get married.” she said

    “That’s a bit of a surprise,” said Rodney, I haven’t heard anything about that before."

    “It’s a doctor she met at the hospital when her husband had his accident.” she explained. “I think Jonathan told me that you know him; Edward Willett, is that right?” she asked, turning her face to look at her teacher.

    “Well I met him, and he seemed like a nice chap. I gather he has done a lot to help; are you saying that Jonathan doesn’t like him.”

    “I don’t know if it’s that, or weather he just doesn’t want anything else in his life to change.” Claire said.

    They were now the last ones to go back into the class, so Rodney said to Claire. “I’ll see what I can do; but it might be tricky.”

    “Thank you Mr Wilson.” she said, and then went back to her desk amid all the noise.

    “Settle down now.” Mr Wilson said, as he followed a few minutes later. The howling mob was quickly subdued. “Let us get back to the subject in hand.” he said, arms outstretched. “As I like it.” he emphasized with a broad grin, bringing upon himself groans, and mutters from his captive audience.

    Rodney was not sure how he should speak to Jonathan. It was after all a very personal thing, and as a rule he would not intervene in such matters. If Claire had not approached him, he would have certainly have kept his distance.

    He knew of other cases where well meaning teachers had tried to help disturbed pupils, only to find themselves caught in a family feud’s, or perhaps sibling rivalry. He knew how easy it would be to get ones fingers burnt. “On the other hand,” the thought returned “how can I stand back and let someone suffer if I can do something to help.”

    Sometimes odd behaviour can mask bullying, either at home or in the school arena, and a good teacher would always be on the alert for signs of anything that might be a hint that a pupil is suffering at the hands of a tormentor. In this case Rodney was pretty certain that Jonathan’s problem was different; he had got to know him quite well, and the earlier dislike of him, as Claire had pointed out, had largely been replaced by an idealized admiration. He had met his mother, and as far as he was aware they got on well. Also, it was clear to everyone how things were with Claire, so he ought to be free from stress now.

    “So what is causing these mood swings?” he thought. “He seems to be fine for a while, and then something happens and he is ‘off the rails’ again.”

    The bell for the end of the session sounded, and quite soon most of the students had left. He noticed Claire ‘holding back’, looking at him with an anxious face. It was enough.

    “Jonathan.”

    Jonathan looked up, his first movement since the bell. “Yes Mr Wilson?”

    “Can you spare me a few minutes before you go on to your next class; there are a couple of things I want to talk to you about.”

    “Yes sir,” he answered “I’ve got a free hour.”

    Rodney glanced towards the door in time to see Claire pick up her bag and leave. Soon they were on there own, and Rodney sat down near to Jonathan, who had not moved.

    “I didn’t see you at assembly this morning, and you look to me as though you are not too well; are you alright?”

    Jonathan shifted in his seat a little, conscious of his teacher sitting close, and not feeling too sure of himself. “I’m alright.” he said “Feel a bit iffey, that’s all.”

    Rodney smiled, “What does iffey mean”

    “You know.” he muttered, fumbling for words, not knowing how to explain why he felt so mixed up, and not wanting to.

    “No Jonathan, I do not know, can you tell me?”

    “I just feel all mixed up.” he replied.

    “I can’t say I’m surprised; you have had a lot to put up lately. And I think you have done very well; you seem to have got over it nicely.”

    Rodney had a slight edge in that he knew Jonathan still felt ‘in debt’ mentally, for having been ‘rescued’ by his teacher when he ran away. He was able to be a little more persuasive than he might otherwise have been, but he still wanted Jonathan to speak freely; not feel to boxed in; so he waited for him to start again.

    “It’s not been to bad really,” he said at last, “but sometimes it sort of bottles up.”

    “Is that all it is now then, just bottled up; can it do that on it’s own?”

    Rodney was wanting to get to the heart of it, but felt that he had to let Jonathan get there first. “Has something happened to set it off; could that be it?”

    “It’s my mum.” Jonathan said, looking weary, and perhaps tired from the burden he was carrying.

    “What is the matter with your mother,” the teacher asked “Is she ill?”

    “She wants to get married.”

    “Well now; that sounds pretty good to me, is that what is bothering you?”

    “I don’t want her to.”

    “But why Jonathan; why don’t you want your mum to be happy?”

    “She is happy.” Jonathan said, his voice suddenly stronger. “She doesn’t have to get married to be happy; she’s alright with us.”

    “A ha’, ’”said Rodney, “you think she should stay with you?”

    “Yes.”

    “And what about you; will you stay with her; in a few years time when you want to get married? Will you give it up so you can stay with your mother?”

    That question gave Jonathan some cause for thought, because he was a long time finding an answer, and not much of one at that. “Dunno, I hadn’t thought about that.”

    Rodney thought he had gone as far as he could, at least for now. If he had planted a seed of doubt it might be enough. In any case, Jonathan would have to try and work it out for himself in the end. Perhaps all he needs is pointing in the right direction.

    As a parting shot he said to Jonathan. “Don’t forget that your mother is still fairly young, and when you and your sister leave her, when you want to lead your own lives, she is going to be on her own, possibly lonely; and she could be on her own for many years. You wouldn’t want that would you?”

    Jonathan didn’t say anything, but Rodney could see that his face had changed. The gaunt look had gone, and something of his normal expression had returned.

    Rodney was encouraged. “Now if you get on with it, you might find a young lady waiting not very far away;  waiting for a young man she thought she used to know.”

    Jonathan didn’t speak until he got to the door, then he turned. “Thanks sir.”  he muttered, and then he was gone.

 

Jonathan found Claire sitting by the window, just where Mr Wilson had found her a little over an hour earlier. He sat down beside her but did not speak. She too was silent, though she did look up as he approached, and without actually smiling had somehow managed to convey to him that it would be alright for him to join her. The silence continued for a while, as did a feeling of calm tension.

    Claire broke the silence. “Anything to say for yourself?” she asked, looking at her boy friend with a curious expression, and a mixture of concern and impatience in her voice.

    Jonathan was still at sixes and sevens, but was beginning to see a bigger picture, and could see now that his was not the only priority. But how was he to measure up the values of his needs against those of others; especially those of his mother, and of Claire?. These were uncharted waters, and Jonathan had not yet experienced enough of life to be sure of his judgements.

    Aware of Claire’s question, but unsure of an answer, he said, “I don’t know; I seem to have got it all wrong; all of it; but; but somehow it didn’t seem all wrong.”

    “Which part didn’t seen wrong?” asked Claire, thinking that perhaps Jonathan was trying to see too much at once.

    “I can’t see why she wants to get married so quick.” still stumbling his words, still uncertain.

    Claire reached over and took his hand. “People have to take their chances when they can.” she said, with an understanding that few girls of her age would have. “Your mum has been lonely and unhappy for such a long time Jonathan; can’t you see why she wants to grab this chance while she can.”

    She looked at the young man, his head still lowered. “She didn’t want your dad to die, but he did. It wasn’t her fault, and Edward Willett had nothing to do with your dad dying either. It wasn’t his fault either.” She said this firmly.

    “But he could have saved him,” Jonathan said quickly “and he didn’t.”

    Claire cupped her hands round Jonathan's face, and looked into his eyes. “You must get past this Jonathan; if you don’t get this out of your mind now, it will be with you all your life. Your dad was so badly injured when he had his crash, that no-one could save him; no-one.” raising her voice a little in emphasis. “Not the team of doctors who had been working on him, no matter hard they tried, and not Edward Willett."

    She stopped when she saw tears in his eyes, and then she sank to her knees in front of him so that she could put her arms around him.

    The tears didn’t last very long, and Claire started to pull away.

    “Don’t go.” Jonathan asked, “I want to tell you something.”

    There was quite a long delay, and Claire was beginning to think he had changed his mind. “That morning,” Jonathan said finally “the day of his crash. I got up early so that I would not have to see him.”

    Claire could see the tears welling up again.

    “I didn't know that I would never see him again.” Jonathan spluttered, fighting his emotion.

    “But you couldn’t know; you can’t blame yourself.”  Claire said quietly.

    “But he was my dad; and I didn’t get the chance to; - “

    He stopped; more words were impossible at that moment, and Claire squeezed a little tighter to encourage him. She knew how badly he had been affected by the death of his father, and she also knew, or thought she knew, that his claim not to care, was a front. A cover up to hide something he would not admit, even to himself.

    She waited for him to recover a little. “What was it Jonathan; what was it that you didn’t get the chance to do.

    He was sobbing again, the tears flowing freely. Claire held on; the maternal instinct already strong in one so young.

    “I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye; to tell him; to tell him... to tell him I loved him."

    He could say no more, and was quiet, but he had said enough. At last he had laid down the burden he had been carrying all these long weeks.

    Claire instinctively knew that Jonathan had left the dark days behind, and could now look forward. But how she wished that it had been his mother who had heard those words. To know, that though she had been unable to love her husband, her son, despite all that had happened, even though he hadn’t known it, loved his father.

    Claire was still holding on to Jonathan, and she said quietly too him. “You must tell your mother as soon as you can, so she can get on with her life; she won’t be able to move on unless she knows you are happy.”

    They got up to leave the study area just outside Mr Wilsons classroom, side by side, arms now clasping each other, when Jonathan stopped, remembering what he had called his father.

    “I’ve just realized that it’s been me that was the ‘stupid sod’ all the time.”

    Claire didn’t quite know the reason for this strange remark, but couldn’t pass up a chance like this

    “Well, you’ve certainly had your moments.”

    “Do you mind if I just pop back to see Mr Wilson?” he asked Claire.

    “Of course not.” she replied, aware of the part he had played in this unhappy period of Jonathan’s life.  He knocked at the door, and when he heard the crisp ‘come in’, he entered the room.

    “Jonathan, come in; what can I do for you?”

    “I just wanted to say thank you sir.”

    “Thank you for what.” asked the teacher, his face just displaying half a smile.

    “I’m not quite sure to be honest, but I think it’s quite a lot.”

    Rodney sat down on the front of one of the desks. “Just get yourself sorted out, and look after those two ladies; that will be thanks enough.” he said, and this time the smile was complete.

    “Can I just say,” Jonathan said, turning back as he reached the door. “that day, when you came to find me, then took me home;  I heard my mother say to you ‘I hope one day he will know what a friend you have been’.”

     “Yes I remember.” Rodney answered.

    “I didn't know what she meant then. But I think I know now.”

    “She’s a nice lady, your mother; she’s been your best friend, and now it’s your turn to be hers.”

    “Yes, I’m beginning to see that.” Jonathan answered.

    He turned to go, but Rodney stopped him again. “You’ve had another friend you know.”

    “Who is that?”asked Jonathan, curious.

    “Edward Willett. I guess you never knew that he allowed himself to be the target of your distress, and he took all your anger. You might have suffered even more if it were not for him.”

    “I didn’t know." said Jonathan.

    “I know,” Rodney replied, “sometimes people don’t know who there friends are.”

    When Jonathan left his teachers classroom after that encounter he was ten minutes older, and ten years wiser.

    The rest of the day was something of a blackout for Jonathan, just going through the motions, while his mind had been on other things. He met up with Claire at lunchtime after all, and they talked through the events of the day, and the days, since his father had died.  For the first time since that day, Jonathan thought he could see things properly. He felt he had a wider view of things, and was better able to judge what was, and what was not, important. Most of all he could see how uncompromising he had been, and how much extra pain he had caused his mother, at a time when she had pain enough.

    They talked about Edward. He couldn’t shake off entirely his unwillingness to accept him, but he had come to realize that in putting all the blame on him, he had been hiding from the truth. Edward was not to blame for all the trauma he had suffered, and, as he had discovered, he had been trying to help.

    "But why didn't my dad tell me the truth?" Jonathan asked.

    "But how could he, and what is the truth anyway?." Claire replied, shaking her head.

     During this stressful time and in her effort to help Jonathan, she had grown up so much herself.

     Jonathan, was unable to put it into words, but he knew that he could now say that he did care that he had lost his father, and it hurt him to think that he would never see him again. “I miss him.” was all he could manage, but he was no longer tearful. There would be no more tears, he was sure of that.

    He didn’t pretend to understand why his father had seemed to turn his back on him. “ But I know I will miss him,” he said again, “and I think I have been missing him for years.” He didn’t know it yet, but he had just found the words, ‘the truth’, that only minutes before he and Claire had been searching for.

    As arranged, Claire was waiting for him at the end of the school day, and they walked fairly quickly, to make sure that they were home before Margaret. She normally finished work at four thirty, so they should have plenty of time.

    Jonathan was feeling nervous, and the resolve to ‘free’ his mother was not as strong  now as it had been. It was not that he had changed his mind, but rather that he was reaching the point of no return. He sensed that he was at another of life’s crossroads, and was a little scared.