Lockdowns provide their own special set of challenges, but enforced time away from the rat race does allow reflection and the chance to go over old ground. Some of those half-buried memories which could benefit from a dust off and a bit of a buffing. And we were lucky, Viv and I. Though we both worked in the city we lived in the country. While working from home provided a big saving in commuting costs it also meant we could do a lot with the timetable. Sure, there were the Zoom meetings you had to be there for, and smartish at least above the waist. But the hours at the computer screen could be scheduled for early mornings and early evenings leaving a chunk of the daylight time for exercise and relaxation. We had a reasonable sized garden and a lovely view over fields gently descending to a river valley a mile or so away. It would have been different were we trapped in a London flat. But we weren't. We were empty nesters with overfull lives who'd suddenly found that Chance, the lurking spirit no-one could tame, had hit and locked the pause button.
The afternoon sun was busy making its way towards the horizon and the distance turning into a Turneresque display of yellow and orange dancing layers. I swirled my malt, cradling it like a wounded wee creature as the delicious aroma reminded me of the Scottish hills I was missing, and tried to arrange my thoughts. We'd been talking about the #Metoo movement. It had been around for over a decade, and the grinding struggle to close the gender power, wealth, status and equal treatment gaps for a great deal longer. But recent cases had everybody talking about the physical exploitation piece of the jigsaw, albeit this was just one symptom of something much bigger.
"It's quite obvious the man is a complete turd," said Viv about one of them in her matter-of-fact way. "But I can't help feeling that things might have been a bit different if he were a Hollywood heart-throb instead of a human version of a warthog."
I let this go. The sunset was going to be spectacular. I took a sip and rolled the hot liquid round before swallowing. Peat. Acres of peat.
"And we women have been sleeping our way to the top ever since Eve did the thing with the apple. I don't see that changing."
I turned to indicate I was considering this revelation, but all I could see was a vast elephant trap. Viv was sitting back, her glass of wine half-finished, and enjoying the sunset too. She looked entirely non committal despite her observations. She was enjoying my teetering on the edge of the trap as much as I was my malt.
"We both know the whole gruesome business is far more complicated. Every case on its merits and judged by the standards of the day. The real struggle is to move those standards."
"Hmmm. Not bad for a mere male. I guess."
I decided on a change of tack. Defending men in general was always a hopeless quest given our record.
"Sticking strictly to the physical side of things it's about consent and what the rules of play are at the time. Sometimes you ladies are quite keen and sometimes you aren't."
This was the equivalent of taking a walk along a very narrow ridge. I hated exposure.
"You remember the time I was working as an administrator at that technical college when the kids were young?" she asked.
I did. That was way back. It was a short period when we needed money and Viv going back to full time work was not an option. The job was near home, part time and quite well paid. I had an inkling what was coming next.
"Yes, I do. Where does that fit in?"
"I think you've guessed, raising the consent and enthusiasm issue as you just did. But, sticking to the narrow line you suggest, and I agree that avoids us getting bogged down in endless side trips, it was there we found a good example of your point."
"Quite so," I agreed. And took refuge in my glass, which I drained and set down on the side table.
Viv settled back, and I knew she was reaching into the past, poking gently around the memory to get it stirred up a bit. I did the same, but mainly to give her time to revisit something which had seemed a big deal at the time, but had later submerged beneath the wash of events that made up every married life. Minor and major family crises, births, deaths, moves, job changes, illness and recovery, the successes and troubles of growing children, holidays, sometimes quite wild parties, memorable and unmemorable birthdays. All now a receding sea, like the boiling wake of a big steamer eventually subsiding to endless and featureless ocean.
But Viv was mining. So, I watched the sun go down until we were wrapped in gloom.
"I've still got the outfit," she said.
"I don't remember an outfit," I replied.
"No reason you should. It wasn't particularly special. Though you did encourage me, in a way."
"I did?"
"Yes. I could still get into it too. If anything, I might be a pound or two lighter than then."
I could believe. We'd always kept quite fit, but those were the busy younger years where you felt driven to play hard as well as work hard and manage the children. The prospect of becoming "fat and happy" was ever present. Nothing wrong with that either. Except it got harder to engage reverse the older one got, and somehow we both seemed to sense that and trim our sails accordingly.
"It's getting cold. Let's go in. I'm going upstairs for a rummage," she announced.
I tidied up the patio and took the glasses inside, closed the sliding door and flipped the latch. Another lockdown day done and no Zooming scheduled. I turned on some subdued lighting and killed the main light, then settled on the settee and started checking for e-mails on my phone. I didn't notice Viv come back down but a rustle had me look up. She was standing between me and the TV in the middle of the room wearing a light-coloured dress belted at the waist, the lower half pleated and cut above the knee, the upper half cut to expose her delightful cleavage. In her right hand she dangled a matching cardigan style jacket. She smiled and, as she pirouetted, the skirting flew up revealing a white suspender belt holding up a pair of sheer seamed stockings. And quite full white knickers. She came to a standstill with a white high heeled shoe pointing towards me as she took her weight on the other. Hands on hips she gave me that "Now tell me you don't remember the outfit" look.
"Grease meets Swan Lake. Very nice. The underwear's doing its thing for me right now, but I promise I can't connect the outfit."
She plonked down beside me and gave my groin a friendly rub to confirm the underwear really had done its job. My story checked out.
"So, let's remember together. I'll get my glass refilled. Do you want another shot of malt?"
"No thanks, darling. I'm fine."
She disappeared to the kitchen and came back with a full glass, grabbed one of the occasional tables, and sat back down beside me with her drink nicely to hand.
"Once upon a time, when the world was simpler and mobile phones were the size and weight of housebricks a young woman was married to a young man who wanted to cure the world's diseases by inventing new clever molecules, but he hadn't quite got the hang of it yet being very junior in his new firm and all, so the young woman had to go back to work a bit sooner than both had intended or they and the children would starve. Do you remember now, O my Best Beloved?"
"I remember that bit all right. But Kipling already has a lot to answer for. I don't think we can fairly lumber him with our story."
"Just so. Merely a smidgen of plagiarism to set the scene. Sit back while we time travel to our wee kitchen in our first house. You're peeling the veg and I've just got back from work."
"Sounds familiar already."
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
The clunk of the front door had me drop carrot and knife on the board and reach for a hand towel. I grabbed a glass from the cupboard above my head and offered it to the winebox. The box responded in the affirmative, which was good news given the weekly consumption rate, and I passed Viv the full glass as she came into the kitchen.
"God, do I need that," she gushed, taking it and chugging half in a couple or so gulps.
"Good day at the office, dear?"
"How are the kids?"
"Fine. All sorted. So, I've started on dinner while peace reigns on the western front."
"Indeed. The office was fine. But old Octopaws was up to his usual tricks again."
"Really? I could sometimes use eight arms myself. Oh, to be so well endowed!"
"I've no idea if he's well endowed, but we all wish he was armless. Or had fewer arms, at least."
