Caroline Alone Ch 03

Foreword

Firstly a word for those who have reached this via the Romance pages: the first two chapters were published in Loving Wives in the last week or so. Please read those first.

Why publish this chapter here? It seems appropriate to the content. And also because it would be good to have some input from beyond the Loving Wives crowd. If romance is summed up by the immortal Jane Austen ending: "Reader, I married him", Loving Wives is the opposite: "Reader, I divorced the cheating slut and took her for every penny and put her lover in the cemetery. And what happened was all her fault." Don't get me wrong, I enjoy these stories, which carry a primal charge of betrayal and survival in adversity. There are strong elements of the LW trope in my story but I have tried to be fair to both sides and to produce something a little different. Satisfaction comes in a variety of forms.

I appreciate all comments. The trade-off in posting on a free site like this is to find that you have a readership and that at least some of your readers enjoy what you write. That's enough reward. Suggestions for how to write better are always welcome.

Now, on with Caroline Alone. Be kind...

Copyright MortonGrange 2013

*

Jack's research goes well. He's surfing a wave of mental energy released by the upheaval in his life and he looks forward to his time in the library. For hours at a time he can forget about Caroline. Working for the bank now seems like a prison sentence served long ago. When he does think about Caroline he finds that distance gives him new objectivity. So she's human: she fucked up and has to deal with the consequences. It wasn't his fault and he has no reason to feel bad. More than ever before he realises how much he looks forward to being with his children and how vulnerable and precious they are.

His part-time teaching hours come about after a couple of combative tutorials with his professor. He argues strongly for his line on the impact state subsidies for the shipping industry before the First World War. At the end of one such meeting his professor unexpectedly offers a few hours teaching and tutoring undergraduates on their preliminary economic history course.

"I like the way you express yourself," says Professor Pickering. "You say what you think clearly and marshal your arguments with skill. Perhaps business has been good for you and taught you how to get the best out of your mind. Our students will like that. Give them lots of economics and tell them how it is in the real world. There are gaps in your historical knowledge but it won't be difficult for you to mug up on detail."

An income, albeit small, makes a great difference to Jack. Teaching also entitles him to put his name down on a waiting list for University accommodation. When he adds that he's a single parent with children to care for at times, he's given priority and almost at once is allocated a small flat on campus. It's in an enclave of faculty staff, all of whom are in similar situations to his, balancing the precarious life of a temporary academic or visitor with an attempt to establish a stable family home. There's congenial company to stop him becoming depressed, vital discussions with intelligent people and lots of women around. The only reason for going home is to be with the children and he starts at once to plan how he can bring them to stay with him in his new flat.

Of course Caroline objects strongly.

"You can't take my children away from me."

"It'll be good for them to be away from here and you'd be denying them a good time. There are lots of things for them to do and children of their own age to play with. I'll speak to them and see what they think."

"You're trying to turn my children away from me."

"I'm not trying to do anything other than get on with my life. I suggest you do the same."

Caroline's resistance is undercut by her own wishes. Something comes up -- unspecified but no doubt involving Damien -- which means she wants him to look after the children. He agrees to pick them up.

He meets many of his new academic colleagues for the first time when he attends the weekly faculty meeting. A couple of dozen lecturing staff are there, mostly women teaching literature, brews of herbal tea in front of them, a few grizzled male philosophers and a mixed bunch of historians and classicists. Jack is the only specialist in economics apart from his professor among the historians. He says little at first, watching his colleagues interact, astonished by their personal attacks and overt championing of their subject interests. It's not business as he knows it and he wonders how these people work together to produce a course. The professor of literature who chairs the meeting seems to ignore most people who want to speak. She doesn't introduce Jack and he notices one or two people examine him curiously and with what he takes to be hostility. He determines he'll not be intimidated.

He's startled when ten minutes into the meeting Professor Pickering introduces him and suggests there is a lack of economic perspective in the current introductory history curriculum taught to first year humanities undergraduates.

"We should take the opportunity provided by having Jack with us to add some economics to the courses on nineteenth century imperialism and also the course on the rise of fascism."

It's clearly a topic that's been discussed before and like everything else one that raises tempers.

"Not on the agenda," snorts one female post structuralist.

"Don't you ever give up trying to browbeat the rest of us? Who cares what Literature think," is the view of a male philosopher.

"We've agreed in the past that these courses are already overloaded," rules the chair.

"Professor Pickering, you continue to appoint men in spite of the University's policy to achieve gender parity among academic staff," says a slender, auburn-haired young woman opposite Jack. She looks serious and fiercely intelligent.

"Seventy percent of this faculty are women," replies the professor. "I'm doing my bit for gender equality."

""But only forty percent in the University as a whole are women and only twenty percent of professorial staff."

"This is a non-professorial appointment in this faculty."

"We don't need economics, we need more about the experience of women," said a wizened classicist who specialises in sexual practices in fifth century Athens.

"Our students have asked for more economics," says Professor Pickering reasonably. "And the economic issues are especially relevant to the experience of women. Isn't that right Jack?"

"There's a chance to cover the non-waged economy and also include a case study of the impact of the Great Depression on domestic service," says Jack, a little nervous in this bear pit and conscious of every eye on him. He catches the eye of the woman opposite and she looks amused and ready to cut him down.

"If it reduces the ridiculous emphasis on foreign and defence policy then I'm all for it," she says. "Despite the unfortunate impact on policies to secure employment equality and diversity in this unrepresentative university."

"Thank you, Hazel, for your ringing endorsement," says Professor Pickering.

"Well Dr Kirk, do the men have it?" asks the chair sardonically.

"We should have a vote," shouts someone.

"There's nothing to vote on," says the chair. "I hear no alternative proposals. Then we are agreed."

"Just what we need -- a white, male banker to save this faculty from bankruptcy," said the woman beside Jack and she gets up and leaves in a theatrical walk-out.

Shortly afterwards the meeting breaks up and Jack discovers from his professor that he's won himself ten additional hours of teaching a week after half term plus time for marking assessments. He can't believe it. Things are looking up.

He starts to feel at home when he takes up running again. The University campus is set out in a spacious and attractive park which runs down to a river, with woodland and arable fields beyond. He goes out at lunchtime when the sun is high and follows a short route he's mapped that takes him along footpaths where he can run on soft surfaces. He's so transported by the experience and in awe of his novel surroundings that he continues for a second circuit, leaving himself only just enough time to shower and change for his afternoon seminar. He's not felt so good in a long while.

He runs the following day when it's overcast and concentrates on speed, wanting to make up for recent neglect of his fitness and believing that by setting physical challenges he will help his mental healing. He's crossed the river feeling strong and fit with only a little soreness in his Achilles from the day before and is pounding up the slope through the woods when he sees a runner -- a slender female -- ahead of him. They come to a rutted barley field and he sees she's dressed in lycra tights and singlet, a sweat band pinning back her hair. He's aware that his silent presence in the empty countryside may bother her but can't think what to do about it.

He get closer and realises the woman has speeded up. She doesn't want him to pass, but he closes all the same. He allows her the full width of the path as he draws level and says "Hi. Great place to run," as he overtakes. She turns her head, face screwed up in concentration and he sees it's Dr Hazel Kirk from the Literature Department, the woman who sat opposite him in the faculty meeting. He smiles and sprints to get out of her way and maintains a punishing speed for the rest of the way home.

He meets her a short while later walking up the steps of the Humanities building.

"Show-off!" she snaps.

He can't tell whether she's joking and tries a light, self-deprecating tone. "Energy to burn, what with so much mind work."

"Well don't feel you have to impress me."

"No chance of that. I was doing my best to keep out of your way."

"Then you failed."

"No, you failed to keep ahead of me."

They smile fiercely and part. She looks good with her hair pinned back and the colour from running in her cheeks. Nice breasts too in the tight singlet.

The next day he sees her on her own in the coffee bar flipping through a sheaf of essays. He gets his coffee and sits down opposite.

"Tell me you don't mind me sitting here."

She shrugs. "Why should I mind? I'm busy."

"I'm lonely. I don't know anyone here. We're in different departments but are we allowed to be friends?"

She looked up sharply and they stare at one another. Finally she says, "You don't have to ask permission. I'm mostly happy to talk to anyone. You're angry. Why's that?"

Startled, he looks at her more carefully. Can she see straight into his heart?

"You don't like me?"

"Why answer a question with a question? I don't know you, but I'm interested in the answer to my question. I guess you're damaged and lonely and I suppose that's interesting. I'll buy you a drink one evening and you can tell me all about yourself. Then I'll decide whether we can be friends. But for now I must work."

"Well thanks for supporting me at the faculty meeting."

"I didn't support you. I'd have voted for more feminist literary theory, but we don't have the staff to teach it. You were lucky. Especially for a banker."

"Well thanks anyway. And I'm not a banker now."

They meet the following evening in one of the campus bars. It's a shock to Jack to be back among noisy undergraduates and he looks round, carefree and cheerful at this reminder of his young days as a student. Hazel insists on buying drinks. He asks for a pint of the locally brewed cask-conditioned ale and notices that she drinks water -- a pint of tap water.

"That is, unless it's gin," he suggests hopefully.

She laughs. "I live on my wits and treat them with respect -- and don't waste money. There's not a lot of it about."

"The next one's my treat."

"I'm only having this one."

"Sensible. Don't overdo it! Tomorrow then. Beer makes me a better person."

They talk about faculty business, colleagues, although Hazel makes clear she doesn't gossip, running and why he thinks beer is good for him. He says something about it making him less self-conscious and more open to expressing himself. She tells him he must find the courage to be himself without stimulants.

"Maybe it's you who's scared of losing control," he replies, nudging her half-empty glass of water. "A gin might do wonders. So are we friends now?"

She nods circumspectly.

"You're not so scary now I know you a little. We could go running together."

"So you can beat me?"

"Pace you. You'll get better running with me."

They agree to run when they're both free at lunchtime and manage a couple of times a week. He does a circuit with Hazel and then one on his own at speed. He doesn't have as much teaching as she does.

Despite her demand that he answers questions, they're both reticent about their private lives. But then Ben and Amy come to stay for the half term. He's walking across campus with a child hanging on to each arm and they meet Hazel coming out of the book shop.

"What's this? Bodyguards?" she asks.

"Meet my children. Ben, Amy, this is Hazel, a colleague of mine in the Humanities Faculty. She's a feminist."

"What's a feminist?" ask both children at once.

"Someone who believes women -- and girls -- should have an equal chance in life and not be subject to discrimination because of their sex," says Hazel.

"And that the world is in the grip of a patriarchal oligarchy, mostly evil bankers intent on destroying civilisation," adds Jack.

He receives a withering scowl. His children are used to him saying incomprehensible things and in any case are more interested in Hazel, who asks them questions about themselves. It's a reading week for some courses and there's more free time. Jack tells Hazel he shan't be running and invites her to an afternoon picnic by the river. She resists, but gives in gracefully when he insists and it's also clear the children would like her to come.

This is Jack's carefully planned ambush. The children are loaded with water and orange juice. He brings vegetarian sushi, white wine and fruit salad. He even brings a rug, remembering how women if invited to sit on the grass will always say it's wet even if it's not rained for months. The children love the river and he has to keep his wits about him as they run down to the bank and find branches to throw in and chase as they float downstream.

Hazel arrives bearing home made pizza and a flask of soup and impresses him by her competence in dealing with two shy children. She chats to them easily and even gets them to try the soup. He notices how she expertly questions them to discover the details of the life that he's hidden -- who their mother is, what she does, why she's not there. Shy Amy clings to him and tells her that her Daddy doesn't live at home any more and that she misses him because there's nobody to read her a story. Ben explains that his mum's always late picking him up from football practice and it isn't fair. Hazel accepts a glass of wine and Jack starts to think he's done the right thing. When they've eaten she goes for a short walk with the children, shows them the rabbit runs where the long grass is pressed down and the gaps in the hedge which lead to the hidden burrow entrances. Then they look at the scratch marks and water vole's holes in the river bank.

Ben goes to sit beside Hazel. "Dad says you're a teacher. What do you teach?"

"Literature. That's the study of books and what people have written."

"What books do you teach?"

"All books."

"Which is your favourite?"

"Mary Wollstonecraft's A Vindication of the Rights of Women."

"Would I like it?"

"I recommend you read it before you're grown up but maybe leave it a while."

"I'll see whether she's written one about men and read that."

Later, when she and Jack are alone, she says, "So you're a married man and never told me. That was forgetful of you."

"Married for now. It didn't seem relevant to the conversations you wanted. As you see, we're separated. How about you?"

She looked hard at him and shook her head. "Why do you ask? Because all women of a certain age must have a partner?"

He laughs. "I meant nothing of the kind as you well know, although you're suspiciously good with children."

"I have a younger brother and sisters and nephews and nieces."

"And a practised line in interrogation."

"Children like you to show an interest in their lives."

"Admirable. But getting information from you is like trying to squeeze a diamond."

"What is it you don't know and think you should?"

He thinks carefully. "Whether you to want a closer relationship with me and whether you're free to have one."

She also takes time to think before she replies. "I don't believe in relationships based on dependency. I've always had to move for my studies and career -- the U.S. west and east coast and Spain. No relationship survives distance and I see no reason to compromise my career for a relationship."

"It's not so easy to be detached and self-sufficient when there are children," he replies.

"Lots of single mothers manage."

"All the same, children are dependent and demand commitment. It's easier for two adults to give that and to do so they need to commit to one another."

"Why do you say that? It seems you and your wife separately deliver your children's needs although you're not committed to her."

"And the children suffer. But you win. I don't want more commitment. Commitment is bad because it means you're not self-sufficient and others might let you down."

He turns away from her searching gaze and doesn't like this conversation. He has no wish to explain to Hazel why he's no longer committed to Caroline. His failed marriage, for him, is a humiliation and not a proper subject for discussion. And he's frustrated with himself because what he'd really like is a little sympathy for his plight and for her to show he matters to her. Pathetic.

Beyond that, he struggles to understand what he wants from Hazel. She's not easy by any meaning of the word and yet he looks forward to her company. Is it because he's lonely or because he needs a relationship to prove he's not a failure? He even wonders whether he's instinctively searching for a partner to help with his children. His rational mind warns him that the last thing he needs is to be tied once more to a woman. She's beautiful and sexy, but there must be better prospects for sex than Hazel; he need only sign up for a dating web site. But that doesn't appeal. Sex isn't top of his list of issues and his interest in Hazel isn't primarily about sex -- or even about making a new relationship. It's simply that he likes her and she intrigues him.

He and Hazel are both very busy, but cook for one another once each week and run together at lunchtime when they can. They chat mostly about teaching, faculty, research and administration. She asks about his children, but it's rare that he can get her to talk about herself. He knows she was brought up and went to school in Bristol, that her parents live in Bath and that she was an undergraduate at Cambridge University before doing her PhD on William Godwin, Mary Wollstonecraft and Mary Shelley in the faculty in Brighton. Her supervisor was the bearded witch, now dean; academia is an incestuous world. He can't discover much about her social life before he arrived. Talking to her faculty colleagues it seems she's always been ambitious, a hard worker who's happy to do the administration others avoid -- admissions or course director or Senate representative. This is her first permanent teaching job. He knows a tough, career minded woman, just like Caroline, is the last person he should hitch his wagon to. Easy to say; not so easy to arrange.