Ouch, ouch and more ouch!
In yesterday’s chapter I wrote of what, perhaps, was one of the better times in the lives of our hero, Philip, and his wife Maggie. But as we move to Chapter Eleven the phrase ‘first impressions may be misleading’ does come to mind.
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Learning from Dogs
Chapter Eleven
Later that evening, after he and Maggie had eaten their evening meal, a rather poor affair that Philip had to admit, Monday being his turn to prepare dinner, he couldn’t shake off something approaching a cloud over him. Most likely associated with the forthcoming fiftieth anniversary of his father’s death, he guessed.
It was the same every year. Whatever he was involved in, however interesting and engaging his life was during the last few months of the year, Philip knew that the period between his birthday in early November and the date of his father’s death on the twentieth of December had some ill-defined greyness about it. Then as soon as the twenty-first of December dawned, he was back to his usual brightness. Indeed, he was always embarrassed by the fact that his pre-Christmas mood never arrived until the twenty-first of December, frequently a bit on the late side to engage properly in the annual ritual of present-buying.
Still that’s how it had been for every year of his adult life and, privately, he wondered if that was his way of treasuring a father he never really knew.
Thus so it was this year. In the sense that it was about a week before Christmas Day, probably around the eighteenth of December that, again, he had to pull himself up sharply and start thinking as to what he should give Maggie as her main present.
What really caused him to focus on Maggie and Christmas was a very strange, decidedly untypical, interaction between Maggie and Pharaoh. Up until then, whenever Maggie had gone out somewhere on her own, Pharaoh would always bark as her car turned into the driveway. On their upper floor, the main living room area, there was a floor-to-ceiling pair of glass-panelled doors overlooking the front of the house, the garden and their short driveway and their five-bar, wooden gate. The glass doors would have been wooden shutters back in the days when it was a cow barn. Today, the doors could be opened during hot summer weather; there was a wooden rail across the opening to prevent any falling accidents.
Pharaoh’s usual routine with arriving cars was to bound up to the windows barking furiously when he heard the latch on the gate being handled and when any car drove up the driveway. If it was Maggie returning home then as soon as he recognised her he would bound down the short, single flight of wooden stairs from the living-room level to the hallway and stand inside the front door, also glassed from head to foot, wagging his tail furiously until he was let out whereupon he would run joyously to her.
However this day, Philip was pretty sure is was the Monday, Pharaoh did his usual barking act as Maggie drove in. Then there was the sound of Pharaoh coming down the steps to the front door with a growl in his throat. That’s what made Philip look up from his computer screen; he was certain that he had heard Maggie’s car but then the growling suggested otherwise.
Pharaoh’s growl became quite intense, practically a sound from him that Philip had never heard before.
He quickly pushed his office chair back on its wheels and stood up from his desk. Within moments, he was beside Pharaoh looking out at Maggie walking back down the driveway to close the front gate.
“Pharaoh, quiet!”, Philip said with a sternness to his voice. Pharaoh reduced the constant growl to a sort of angry muttering in the back of his throat. Philip had no doubt that Pharaoh was not playing around. To the point where he practically dragged Pharaoh by his collar back into the small office and firmly closed the door on the two of them.
Pharaoh pushed to the office window, also full length, his eyes, ears and full body stance continuing to signal a great unease. What on earth was happening? Philip just couldn’t fathom it out.
He left his office room, closing the door with Pharaoh inside, and went out to meet Maggie who was walking towards the house with a semi-full bag of groceries in a cloth shopping bag.
“Hi, is that all there is to bring in?”, Philip asked.
“Yes, only a few items that I needed from Safeways.”
As Maggie came up to the front door, Philip continued, “You know, there’s something weird about Pharaoh just now.” He went on to explain what had just happened, continuing, “It’s almost as though he didn’t know it was you.”
They climbed the stairs up to the open-plan kitchen area that was at one end of the living room, to the right of the stairs, the main living room area to the left. Philip then went over to the log-burner in the corner of the living room and fiddled with it for a while. In fact, his mind was still on Pharaoh wondering if his angst had now subsided. Only one way to find out.
He returned to his office room and opened the door. Pharaoh was lying on the rug. He looked up at Philip and, again, very strangely, only raising himself from the floor and following Philip upstairs to the living-room after a great deal of coaxing.
It was all very peculiar.
Wednesday, the 20th, dawned to reveal a bright pleasant morning with soft, cumulus clouds across a broadly blue sky. A great morning to be over at the woods for a walk.
After breakfast, Philip called out to Maggie, who had been in the bathroom for a while, actually more than a while when he thought about it, that he and Pharaoh were off to James’ woods. Philip just heard Maggie call out that she had heard him.
It was a wonderful walk. Pharaoh was in his prime chasing squirrels, a fairly pointless task Philip always thought, then sticking his nose down the many rabbit holes, sniffing such large lungfulls of air that Philip wondered if Pharaoh thought he could suck the poor rabbits out of their burrows.
The date, fifty years to the day that his father had died, seemed to rest much more easily with him than he had feared. It was all so, so long ago. It crossed his mind to buy Maggie a bouquet of flowers on the way home.
A couple of hours later, he and Pharaoh bounced into the house, a fresh bouquet of flowers newly purchased at Safeways in Totnes in Philip’s right hand.
“Hi sweetheart, bought you these. Just thought you looked a little off-colour earlier this morning and that some flowers might cheer you up.”
As he was offering the flowers to Maggie he realised that whatever it was that had been afflicting her earlier that morning was still troubling her. Frankly, she looked very pale and drawn.
“Maggie, what’s the problem? You don’t look at all well.”
“Philip, do you mind if I lie down on the bed for a little while, just not feeling that brilliant.”
“No, of course not,” came his reply. “Look you go and lie down, I’ll put the flowers in water, make us both a nice cup-of-tea and bring them down to the bedroom.”
With that Philip went upstairs to the living room, dug out a glass vase and put the flowers in water, placing the vase with the flowers on one of the work surfaces in the kitchen.
He also noted that the fire was pretty low and needed rejuvenating. Thus it was nearer thirty minutes before he returned to their bedroom with the hot teas. Maggie’s body was under the bedspread, her head back against a pair of pillows, still giving the appearance of being significantly out of sorts.
He put Maggie’s cup down on the bedside table next to her and cradling his own mug of tea in his hands sat down on the edge of the bed, just adjacent to where Maggie’s knees were under the cover.
Maggie heaved herself up, leaning back against the headboard and reached for her tea. “Thank you, Philip, that was very kind of you.”
They both sat without saying a word, Philip conscious of the hot tea reminding him of an empty stomach not yet having had lunch.
Maggie took a breath, put her empty cup down on the bedside table, and looked at Philip.
“Philip, I don’t know how to say this. The reason for me being unwell this morning was that I have just had a miscarriage.”
Philip’s world came to an instant, shuddering halt. Of course, that’s what Pharaoh had picked up, the impending breakup of his home. Because, after the birth of his second child with his first wife in 1972, Philip had opted for a vasectomy.
1,495 words. Copyright © 2013 Paul Handover
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Have to wait until Monday to see where it all leads to.
