BOTH SIDES OF THE MOON

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                                                                         Chapter Seven

 

It was just another Monday at Wixley comprehensive school. The boys and girls had been milling around, since they started to arrive during the last fifteen to twenty minutes. As each minute passed their numbers grew, until at last, the duty teacher opened up the main doors, and with a heavily disguised sense of urgency, a movement towards, and then through them, began.

    Rodney Wilson was busy in his class room laying out papers and books for the first lesson, but at the moment he was thinking of Wendy. The weekend had been something of a disaster for him, and he was hoping that the new week might bring with it a new start.

    Friday had been bad enough, following his unexpected and somewhat unsettling episode with young Jonathan Marshall. That had come 'out of the blue' and had taken up all of the morning and much of the morning. Though the head teacher had covered for him, he didn’t have any

illusions that most of the substance of the lessons would have to be done again. He was not too bothered about that, feeling sure that the bulk of it could be ‘worked in’ during the remaining lessons of the term. He hadn’t heard anything more about Jonathan, since he left him at home with his mother, but it just did cross his mind that he should be here in his English literature class, first lesson after assembly this morning.

    So Friday had been bad enough, but then Saturday! Rodney gave an involuntary shudder at the thought. Wendy had been due to arrive at the Central Station at five to eleven, and when he arrived to meet her, ten minutes before the train was scheduled, he was surprised to find her waiting for him. At once he could see that she was angry.

    “I’ve been waiting for you over an hour.” she said, when he reached her. To his surprise she refused the kiss that he had offered, which he had expected to be received enthusiastically.

    “But why have you come so soon?” Rodney asked, totally thrown by her earlier than expected presence, and her anger. "Your train isn't due yet!"

   “Because my dear,” Wendy retorted, in a manner that gave the lie to her use of the words ‘my dear’ “we are going to choose the ring today, unless you have forgotten.” The whole sentence shrouded with more than a touch of venom “Unless,” she repeated, “you have changed your mind.”

    Rodney was very flustered, reduced to adopting a position most men would recognize: metaphorically on his knees. First of all remembering the last minute change of plans, and now apologizing for his lapse of memory. He had started the day happy in the knowledge that his girl friend would be with him for the week-end, but had quite forgotten that they had agreed that an early start would be better.

    “Oh’ Wendy,” he said, genuinely sorry for his mistake, “please forgive me.” taking hold of her again, “And you know I haven’t changed my mind.” He manoeuvred to get the kiss she had earlier refused, and this time she relented. The kiss was allowed, but it was without her usual passion. Rodney hoped that by the evening she would have regained her usual enthusiasm for their intimacies and lovemaking. In the event he would not have to wait that long.

    Their relationship had developed from a casual and uncommitted one, to something much stronger during the last couple of months. They had maintained a friendship from an early age, and mostly to please their parents, and would meet socially from time to time. But their emerging careers, and distant locations made it unlikely that a real romance would develop. Yet in spite of the difficulties, and their declared, if sometimes exaggerated, disaffection for each other, love had found a way, and both of them were now looking ahead to a life with each other.

    Rodney felt at home in his adopted new town, and Wendy had discovered that her employers would be willing to transfer her to a local branch office if she decided to move. So the decision to marry was one that evolved for practical as well as romantic reasons.

    They left the station and drove to his flat, Rodney chatting away in his usual good-natured way, and Wendy, though trying to maintain a cool, injured persona, was gradually warming to her man. Once inside the flat all other thoughts quickly disappeared, as they joined in an amorous embrace, and all the passion that had been on hold since their last meeting two weeks before was released. Items of clothing were strewn like a paper chase, inevitably leading to the bed, where they gorged in their love for each other. Time, and earlier alienation, forgotten. Hearts and minds, body and soul, they were each for each other. Plans for an early start to the day, put at risk in the first place but the mix up at the railway station, were now abandoned, as they enjoyed the closeness of one-another, and the intoxicating feeling as man and woman become one. Anything else for the time being was relegated firmly into the background.

    Rodney had drifted into a daydream, remembering first the joy of being together with the woman he loved, and of the romantic start to their weekend. But his thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the crash of the door as it was flung open by an group of students who had arrived very early for the first lesson of the day.

    “Morning Mr Wilson,” one of them said a little awkwardly, “Didn’t expect you to be in just yet.”

    “I can see that, ” he replied, and looking at his watch, said “and you have just two minutes to get down for assembly.”

    He was facing them sternly, and clearly not prepared to discus the matter. The three lads, who undoubtedly had thought to skip the ‘boring’ speeches of assembly, turned without dissent, and Rodney, having established some degree of authority, moved quickly himself. He was grateful for the interruption, for he knew quite well that without it he too would have missed the ‘boring’ speeches.

    He made it into the assembly hall with seconds to spare, and smiled as he watched his three ‘would be’ fugitives finding their places. Mr Pickering was already standing at the front of the stage, with a depressingly large sheaf of papers in his hand.

    “Good morning to you all.” he started, and Rodney settled down to what he knew would be a period of routine announcements, and of information delivered in a manner that was somewhat lacking in panache, and which, for the most part, would be inescapably forgettable. He yawned, covering his face as best he could so that students close to him would not see. He knew only to well that they would, with an uncanny zeal, deliberately repeat the yawn, while making no attempt to hide the fact. The charade would be copied by those around, until everybody in the room was yawning. Somehow he  managed to keep it to himself, but had to admit that he could see why students tried to miss out on assembly.

    He was beginning to drift away, but as he did so, he wondered how many of their young charges were actually successful in that endeavour, compared to those who were caught. More than we all care to admit, was his last thought on the matter, before once again the vision of Wendy invaded his thoughts, and of making love to her.

    In his mind’s eye he could see it clearly, and when they had finally emerged from their island of dreams, the bad feelings, the anger and recriminations of just a couple of hours before had all disappeared. They were in love again, and they had a mission. Not for them the modern idea of moving in, of living together, or a trial marriage; call it what you will. In most ways they were typical of today’s young people, but both had been fortunate to have been born into stable and contented families. They had both known the security of a loving home, and had been free from the domestic stress that had been the lot of so many of their contemporaries.

      Neither therefore had questioned that when it happened to them, it would be anything but marriage, and when Rodney had proposed it had been agreed that they would take it all the way. Formal announcements would be made as soon as they had acquired a beautiful ring, a short period of engagement would follow, and then they would be married. It seemed to be right for them, and they both knew that it would be right for their parents.

    In one small matter however, they had drifted somewhat from conventional lines toward the modern way, in that neither of them had felt the need to wait until after the wedding to consummate their relationship.

    Rodney jumped a little, startled by something unexpected. A hand was on his arm gently shaking. He sat up quickly suddenly aware of his surroundings, and the realization that he had, after all, missed assembly. He had not actually fallen asleep, but so real had been his return to the weekend, that he might just as well have. Before he looked to see who had brought him back to the real world, and almost before he was fully alert, he was wondering who he could speak to in order to get a run down on what Mr. Pickering had been saying.

    “Mr Wilson.” the voice was insistent.

    He turned to face the young man who was standing in front of the empty chair at his side. He saw at once it was Jonathan Marshall, and he could also see that most of the chairs in the hall were also empty, and that those who had not already left assembly, were in the process of doing so.

    “Are you alright Mr. Wilson?” Jonathan was saying, looking into the face of his English master, pleased to see signs that he was now being heard. “I wondered if you were not feeling very well.”

    “Jonathan,” he said, a touch confused, and feeling slightly uncomfortable at being caught out doing what many students had been given four Saturday detentions for.“Yes; thank you Jonathan,” uncertain how he should explain his lapse to a student, and also uncertain as to whether he should. “It was good of you to be concerned; thank you for that, but I will be alright now.”

    Jonathan seemed to be relived, not quite sure what his teacher meant when he said he would be alright now, but thought maybe he should leave it at that.

    “I was hoping to see you,” he said, “I want to talk to you if I can.” he stopped for a moment, waiting for a response, as they made their way to the staircase, Rodney walking briskly, as if to shake off the daydream he had been in.

    “Are you going to the class?” Jonathan asked, “can I walk with you?”

    “Yes of course you can.” Rodney replied, relieved that the conversation was heading in another direction, and that his lapse was now forgotten, “what is it you want to talk about?”

    Jonathan wasted no time as though he had been rehearsing, “I was pretty silly, wasn’t I sir?” but without waiting for an answer, carried on “and I feel a bit stupid now,” he waited a moment, hoping that Mr Wilson might say something. “But I want to say thank you for coming for me; I didn’t know what was going on for a while and to tell you the truth I was a bit frightened.”

    There were a few more things he wanted to say and he knew that they would soon be at the classroom, so he was rushing his words.  “Also I didn’t know how I was going to face my mother, but you told me what to do.”  He held his breath for a moment, “At least you told me that she wouldn’t be angry with me.”

    “Was she?” The question asked firmly but with a soft edge

    “She was very upset, and I thought she would be mad at me but; she seemed  different.” he stopped , once again not sure of what he wanted to say.

    “Different?” Rodney asked

    “Well it was as though she was sorry for me.”

    Rodney nodded. “Yes, I guess she was, but you know it won’t be that she was sorry for you because of what you did,” they had reached the classroom, but just like the last time he did not go in, not wanting to leave the thought only half expressed. “She will have been sorry for you for why you did it. Is it going to be alright now?” he asked looking directly at Jonathan.

    “Yes I think so.” he replied, “We had a good long talk about it, and I think it’s Ok.”

    “I’m very pleased to hear that.” he said as he pushed open the classroom door.

    “Right." he said, addressing the class, who had made little attempt to reduce the clamour, despite, or perhaps because, their teacher had come into the room. “Right,” he said again, louder and with an authority that meant business, “let’s have some quiet."

    This achieved, and with something of a smug expression he announced to the class.

   ”Lets talk about this mornings assembly - Roberts.” he called out, pointing at a surprised youth, "Start us off please Roberts."

 

The first couple of hours had been difficult. Word had got round that her son had run off, and Margaret had been faced with a number of sympathetic encounters, a couple of hugs, plus some arms around the shoulders, from well meaning colleagues, anxious to display Friendship and loyalty. There were just one or two, not so kindly disposed, who were happy to be spiteful, preferring to use this opportunity to even up on some past disagreement or other.

    It was well known within the supermarket staff that she had recently lost her husband, and it was also known, within a smaller and closer circle, that their’s had not been a happy marriage. So it was with mixed emotions that she handed over her checkout for her tea break. Her supervisor, had turned out to be quite supportive following their public argument, and was waiting for her to finish her shift.

    “How are you feeling now?”she asked, as Margaret slid from the chair, allowing another bottom to take the place of hers, seemingly without a pause.

    “I’m really OK,” she said, smiling but feeling some strain, “he’s back home, and I don’t think he will do it again.” and then, as if she had suddenly remembered, “In fact he has gone to school.”

    “Well I hope you will all be able to settle down, you’ve had enough on your plates just lately.” said Mrs Woods. She smiled and turned to go “Let me know if you want any more help.”

    Margaret walked slowly to the canteen, needing a break but not sure if she could face any more sympathy. Passing a side entrance on the way, she spotted a familiar face outside, and stopped.

    It was Edward, and she remembered that he had come to see her at work when Jonathan was missing. Suddenly she felt guilty, because not once during the very strange weekend had she thought of him. She tried to tell herself that she had been torn in every different direction over her son, but could not forget that he had gone out of his way to try to help. It did look as though his help had backfired, and may have done more harm than good, but he had at least been willing to try. After all no one would have expected Jonathan to do what he did, and, she acknowledged, there would have been no gain for him if he succeeded, and the possibly of trouble if he didn’t.

    She opened the door, and went outside. He saw her coming and smiled as they came closer, but she sensed that it was a sad smile, and some little spark in her became just a bit brighter.

    “Hello Edward.” she said to him, and leaning forward kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for wanting to help again, I’m sorry I couldn’t see you when you called, but I was in such a turmoil.”

    Edward wasn’t very forthcoming, uncertain of his place, and now, after the events of the week-end, even more so. Aware as he was of a growing liking for this lady; and wanting to help her son, he couldn't shift the feeling that she might be blaming him that it all went wrong.

    “I’m glad you have got him back.” was all he said.

    Sensing his uncertainties she was embarrassed. She did not seriously feel that Edward was to blame, neither had it occurred to her that he might think he was. But seeing his demeanour she wondered. “You mustn't blame yourself Edward, I'm sure I don't.”

    Edward couldn’t answer straight away. The truth was that he didn’t know. When they had left him on Friday, Jonathan was clearly upset, but he felt that he had helped him to face up to the problem of how he felt about his dad. But when he discovered that he had run away, he was sure that he must have overdone it: perhaps he had given him more than he could handle and he just tried to run away from it.

    “It probably was my fault.” he said very unhappily, “Maybe I expected too much of him.” Quietly he asked, “Do you think it was my fault? I could not forgive myself if it was me that pushed him over the edge.”

    Edward was a sensitive person, and though he was able to make some hard decisions on the ward, it made no difference when it came to personal things. He could not help the few tears that moistened his eyes, and suddenly Margaret realized that Jonathan was not the only man in her life to be suffering.

    “Have you time to go for a cup of coffee?” she asked him.

    “Yes that’s not a problem.” he answered,” I’ve taken the day off,” and then, almost as an afterthought he added, “I’ve been here since eight o’clock hoping I might see you.”

    Margaret looked at her watch, though she knew perfectly well what the time was.

   “You mean you’ve been waiting here for over two hours?” she asked, somewhat astonished “Why didn’t you come in and ask for me?”

    “Because I didn’t know if you would want to see me.” he said, “I didn’t know what had happened, and if you; maybe you hate me.”

    He stopped, not knowing what else to say. They had just reached the little café, and Margaret came to an abrupt halt, so he did the same, afraid of what she might say.

    “Edward,” she said in a slightly trembling way. “I have only known you a few weeks, and they have been some of the most traumatic weeks of my life; but in those few weeks you have been more than just a friend.”

    Only ten minutes ago she was totally free, just getting used to the idea after so many years enduring the strain of a loveless marriage, but now, so soon, she was declaring herself,  “No I don’t hate you; .and if I wasn’t so upside down at the moment I think I could love you.”

    She leaned forward and kissed him very lightly on the lips. This was the first loving kiss she had given to any man other than her now dead husband in nearly twenty years. It was the lightest kiss possible, but it contained her heart.

 

Edward got back to his flat somehow, his emotions all over the place. He was glad of course that Jonathan had come home, safe and well, and looking as though he might after all have turned the corner in his search for himself, and for some understanding of what his father had meant to him. But of all things,  possibly for the first time in his life, he was experiencing the awakening of love for a woman. It was very scary and not at all what he had expected.

    He had not sought any kind of attachment since John had left, and had been happy to let things find their own course, expecting perhaps that one day another ‘John’ would come into his life. All his adult life he had been more comfortable with men, and when occasionally he had found himself getting closer to a woman, he had always started to feel uneasy and would embark on some scheme to distance himself. How could it be that he was now feeling those kind of feelings for a woman, and was not wanting to run. It was an ironic paradox. Not only were there questions in his head for which he had no answers, but they were questions which had never before been asked. The paradox of love seems to be that ‘for every ounce of joy, there is an ounce of pain’.

 

Jonathan arrived home from school a little later than usual, because he had taken Claire home, and she had insisted on taking him in her house to say hello to her mother. And  then he found his own mother in a very jolly mood.

    He was pleased of course as she had not found it easy to be herself since the night he had gone walkabout, but he was also curious, and wondered what could have happened. It was good to see her in such good spirits, and he hoped that she might be getting over his silly and selfish behaviour. However, he was happy too. He had met Claire’s Mum and she had turned out to be very friendly, and had made a big fuss of him.

    When he left her, Claire had given him a very sexy kiss, doing things with her tongue she hadn’t done before. He found this very exciting, and of course it had affected him in a very predictable way. He did not know if his emerging manly pride was being manipulated, but he did not see it as a problem, far from it. For a young man of fifteen, it was the stuff that dreams are made of.

    “What’s up mum,” he called as he threw his coat towards the rack in the hall, missing the hook as usual, his coat finishing on the floor, as usual, “you sound as though you are in a good mood?”

    “Yes,” she said, “I think the clouds are starting to clear at last.” as she busily carried on preparing the evening meal for the family.

    Jonathan looked out of the widow, not understanding his mothers remark. It was late in February, dark now, and it had been a drizzly kind of day. He shrugged his shoulders, puzzled but not greatly distracted at his mother’s obscure words.

    “She does say some odd things at times.” he thought as he went through to the kitchen to see what was on the menu.