encouragement.
On Saturday mornings MacLean and Carrie had a routine; they would go exploring. Armed with a glass jar and bamboo canes tipped with small nets, they would investigate the woodlands near the bungalow and the water margins of the canal and bring home nature’s secrets to Tansy. Tansy would welcome them home with hot chocolate and say, ‘Ooh’ and ‘Ah’ at appropriate intervals as Carrie, clad in her yellow raincoat and favourite red Wellingtons, lectured her from the middle of the kitchen floor.
MacLean enjoyed Carrie’s lectures. He would lean on the corner of the door and admire the animated performance, made all the more endearing because of occasional childish malapropisms. He and Tansy would exchange glances and find some excuse to bring the proper word into the conversation without offending their instructor. It was clear that Carrie was growing in knowledge and confidence and it pleased them.
The relationship between MacLean and Tansy was also growing. Scarcely a day would pass without one of them discovering some new strength or sensitivity in the other to deepen an already considerable affection. There was no question of blotting out the past. Tansy spoke openly of Keith and her life with him and MacLean spoke of Jutte and found doing so therapeutic. For both of them grief had mellowed into fond memories. Neither saw the other as a substitute
It had been agreed from the outset that they should live as individuals so as not to create pressures which one or both of them might find difficult to cope with. MacLean had his own room. Tansy kept hers. This was not to say that they did not have a sex life. Feeling the way they did about each other, it was inevitable and all the more enjoyable because of the ‘illicit’ feel that room hopping had to it.
Separate rooms were maintained for times when one or the other felt the need to be alone; they were sanctuaries which would not be invaded by the other without invite. In the beginning it was MacLean who felt the need to be alone. He suffered from recurring fears that what he was doing was wrong and that, in the end, he would bring tragedy to Tansy and Carrie. But as time went by and largely thanks to Tansy’s reassurances, these fears started to subside. Dan Morrison was taking over from Sean MacLean and his nightmare world. He was a labourer. It was hard work and the pay was nothing to speak of but inside his head, things were a whole lot better.
SIX
MacLean opened his eyes and remembered that it was Saturday, expedition day with Carrie. He wondered momentarily why she had not already woken him but then he saw on the bedside clock that it had just turned seven. A shaft of sunlight had found its way through a chink in the curtains and played on his face to wake him. He was relieved that the weather was fine because, although his expedition agreement with Carrie had a ‘whatever the weather’ clause written into it, he much preferred their outings when the weather was fair and it had rained on the last three occasions.
Trying not to wake Tansy, he slid out of bed and replaced the covers on her shoulder. She moved slightly and he made a soothing sound to lull her. He sat for a moment just watching her sleep, thinking how peaceful she looked and how much she had come to mean to him. ‘I love you Mrs Nielsen,’ he whispered.
MacLean went through to the kitchen and turned on the electric kettle to make coffee. He looked out of the window while he waited for it to boil and saw the yellow, spring sunshine highlight the reedy marshland at the back of the house. There was a slight breeze and the grass bent synchronously as if in response to some unseen conductor. White, cotton wool clouds drifted across the sky and prospects for the day seemed good.
He was finishing his coffee when he was joined by Carrie, accompanied as ever by her Teddy bear. ‘It’s Saturday!’ she announced.
‘Ssh, you’ll wake Mummy,’ cautioned MacLean.
Carrie hunched her shoulders and put her finger to her lips in an exaggerated pantomime of guilt. She started taking large silent steps round the room.
MacLean smiled and asked if she wanted breakfast.
‘Yes please,’ she replied in a stage whisper.
‘All right Carrie, let’s not overdo it,’ said MacLean.
Carrie sat down at the kitchen table while MacLean poured out her cereal and added milk from the fridge. Carrie swept up a few stray flakes from the table and popped them onto her mouth.
‘Do you think we’ll catch an octopus today?’ asked Carrie.
‘No,’ replied MacLean.
‘Why not?’
‘There aren’t any in the canal,’ said MacLean.
‘Oh,’ said Carrie but then seemed satisfied with the reply.
When Carrie had finished eating MacLean sent her off to the bathroom to wash her face and hands and clean her teeth before dressing. He said that he would pay close attention to her ears when she returned. When she came back she was already wearing her raincoat and the inevitable red Wellingtons. MacLean made a play of inspecting her ears saying, ‘I could grow potatoes in there!’
‘No you could not!’ insisted Carrie. ‘I washed them.’
MacLean conceded that maybe she had.
‘What are you two fighting about?’ came Tansy’s voice from the bedroom.
MacLean and Tansy looked at each other guiltily. ‘Sorry,’ said MacLean. ‘We didn’t mean to wake you. Coffee?’
‘Please,’ replied Tansy sleepily.
Carrie pranced into the bedroom with news of the day. MacLean followed shortly with a cup of coffee. Tansy propped herself up on one elbow to take it from him.
‘Can we go now, Uncle Dan?’ asked Carrie.
‘I think so,’ replied MacLean, his eyes asking Tansy if there was anything that should delay them.
Tansy smiled and said, ‘Off you go then. Have a nice time.’
Carrie planted a large, wet kiss on Tansy’s mouth and scurried out of the room.
‘See you later,’ said MacLean.
MacLean carried the bamboo fishing poles while Carrie led the way. She parted the tall grass, which in many places was taller than she was and kept glancing behind her to reassure herself that she was not alone. MacLean remembered what it was like to be that height in long grass, flickering sunlight and the constant threat of claustrophobia, the smell of damp straw and the unpleasantly hard texture of the reeds as they brushed your face. Carrie gave a double skip to celebrate breaking out on to the clear ground of the towpath. She turned and smiled.
They followed the line of the path until the high, grassy bank gave way to a cobblestone apron where Carrie could approach the water safely. She lay down on her stomach and wriggled up to the edge of the water to look down. MacLean squatted down on his haunches beside her, half looking at the water but more interested in Carrie’s facial expressions. She had an air of intense concentration about her; she wanted to know all there was to know about a world which for her was still very new and full of wonder.
Carrie looked up at MacLean but something else caught her attention and she looked past his left knee.
‘There’s that man again,’ she said, casually turning back to the water and lowering her jar into it.
MacLean thought he’d misheard. He looked in the same direction as Carrie had but saw nothing. All the same, his spine was tingling with apprehension.
‘What man Carrie?’ he asked. He had to clear his throat. It had gone tight.
‘The man at the school railings.’
‘Tell me about him, Carrie,’ said MacLean, trying to sound casual.
At first Carrie ignored the request. She was concentrating on enticing some creature into her jar.
MacLean’s pulse was racing. He couldn’t wait. ‘Tell me about the man Carrie,’ he repeated. His voice was harder.
Carrie caught the unusual nuance and it alarmed her. She turned to look at him uncertainly.
‘Did he speak to you Carrie?’
