The Poetry Lovers

The poetry lovers

Sandrine slammed the door of the taxi and stood clutching her
briefcase, the rain lashing her long dark hair into her eyes. Bob was
in Birmingham tonight with Joel or Toine or someone else with a fancy
architect's name so she could crash into bed early with a pile of
magazines and a cup of cocoa. But first she needed something to warm
her up.

Walking into a restaurant she hadn't been to in years she made her way
to the bar but stopped abruptly in the doorway.

Reflected in the high mirror behind the bar she saw Bob, one hand
stabbing the air as he explained something to his companion.

But it wasn't seeing Bob that so surprised her, it was the girl he was
talking to.

With a start she realized she was seeing herself, exactly as she used
to be when she and Bob came here years ago.

The girl's long black hair hung down her back and her pale blue eyes
were wide under slightly arched brows. And as she threw her head back
to laugh Sandrine saw what she already knew was there - a very slight
gap between her front teeth.

Sandrine left the bar quickly before they saw her. Standing under the
dripping awning trying to hail a taxi she had the strange feeling she
had died and come back to life as herself.

A taxi executed a splashy U-turn and Sandrine ran over to it, shouted
her address to the driver and jumped in.

As she leaned back against the seat she saw her double looking at her
through the steamy window.

Emma glanced up and for a minute thought she'd seen a trick image of
her older self reflected in the mirror behind the bar.

Then suddenly the other woman disappeared, a bewildered look on her
face.

'Is my bunny ready for another drink?' Bob stroked Emma's hair.

'Not for me. I'm just going to the bathroom.' Emma squeezed his arm and
slid off the bar stool and ran into the street.

Emma watched the woman get into a taxi and shout Bob's address to the
driver. She wanted to detain her, learn more about her and as she
peered through the rain-spattered window their eyes met.

Back in the bar Bob saw her and hurried over. 'Our table's ready,
rabbitkins, where were you? '

'I wanted to see if it had stopped raining,' said Emma as they walked
into the dining room.

Bob smiled at her indulgently. 'Little rabbits should be careful.
Especially now!'

He fondled Emma's arm but she could hardly look at him and his baby
talk embarrassed her.

She felt stunned, almost as if she had just experienced love at first
sight. Could you be in love with yourself, she wondered.

Emma stroked the unfamiliar bulge of her four-month pregnancy. This is
why Bob wants me, she thought. And why he treats me like a baby.

'I don't want anything to eat,' she said, closing the menu. 'I want to
go home.'

The light was on upstairs and Bob felt faintly uneasy. Sandrine didn't
expect him home tonight but he'd had a terrible row with Emma.

Now she was pregnant things were getting very difficult. She'd given
him another ultimatum.

Soon Sandrine would have to be told. Perhaps now was the time.

Bob walked up the carved oak Neo-gothic staircase and smiled as he
remembered how he and Sandrine used to play at being Madelaine and
Porphyro, the medieval lovers from the poem by Keats, The Eve of St
Agnes.

As he went into the bedroom Sandrine looked up from a pile of
magazines, huge lace-covered pillows supporting her back.

'Bob?' she looked surprised.

'Indeed, the very same. Expecting something better?'

Sandrine pursed her lips at the edge in his voice. 'Birmingham over
early?'

'Something like that.'

'Can I get you anything?'

'Well, while you're at it, how about a divorce?'

Bob had meant this to come out as a jocular remark. But once said the
words hung dangerously between them.

'A divorce?' Sandrine felt the words fizzle and die in her mouth.

Bob sat down at Sandrine's dressing table. 'I didn't mean it to come
out so...you know...'

'Abruptly?'

'Yes, abruptly. But now it's out I suppose there's no going
back.'

Sandrine pulled on a green silk dressing gown over her Victorian lace
nightdress. 'I think we should say what's on our minds, Bob.'

He slowly turned to meet her pale eyes. 'Oh, Sandy. I'm really
sorry.'

She sighed. 'Somehow I knew it was only a question of time.'

'For you and for me, perhaps. But now others are involved.'

'Others?'

'Well, one other. The fact is, someone I care about very much is
pregnant.'

'And wants you to make it legit?'

'Something like that.'

Sandrine looked away. Why hadn't she and Bob had children? This gothic
monster of a house had been their spoilt, only child. Bob had always
said it would look incongruous with a pram in the hall and all that
brightly coloured plastic everywhere.

So, her lovely double was pregnant! Her double? No, she is me, thought
Sandrine. Or, am I her?

'You know I won't leave here.' Sandrine said at last. 'This is my
home.'

'Your home?' Bob banged his fist on the glass and the pots rattled. 'I
restored this house with my own bare hands!'

'Don't be so melodramatic! You know perfectly well whose money financed
it - the York stone, the cornice work...'

'Oh, yes. I knew that would come up. It always does. However hard I
worked on this house it was always whose money that paid for it that
counted! Your superior salary. Your superior inheritance.'

Sandrine stood looking out at the darkness as Bob paced the room. After
a while he walked over to her side.

'Oh, hell. I'm sorry, Sandy. Let's go and talk this over at the
cottage.'

As Sandrine slowly turned towards him her hair fell over her face and
he saw Emma as he'd left her only an hour ago.

Strange, he thought, to love two identical women.

'Oh, Madelaine!' he said, holding out his arms. 'Thy Porphyro is
here!'

Sandrine laid her head against his shoulder. 'Porphyro,' she whispered.
'Oh, Porphyro, where is thy steed?'

It was Saturday morning and Emma lay in bed thinking what it would be
like to have a baby lying beside her.

She was gazing at the rain running down the windowpane when the phone
rang.

As she answered it she saw it was almost ten o'clock.

' How's my lovely one this morning?' Bob's voice was breathy and there
was a lot of background noise.

Emma smiled with relief. 'Sorry I was such a whinger last night. Where
are you? There's a lot of noise.'

'Oh, I'm in a newsagents. And don't you worry your rabbity nose about
being a whingey girl now and again. You've every right to be! '

Emma felt relieved. She cooed into the phone. 'Your baby and your
baby's baby both miss their daddy. When will we see you again?'

'Well, that's why I'm calling.' Bob cleared his throat. 'I'm here in
East Sussex and I'd like you to drive down and meet me here.'

'Sounds like a great idea.' Bob had told her about his cottage
somewhere in Sussex.

'Good girl! Drive down in about an hour and meet me at the Pole and
Eagle. It's the first turning on the right after Polegate on the A259.
Can you be there about noon? I won't have the car so I might be a bit
late as I'll have to walk.'

Emma looked out of the window at the slate grey sky. She'd do anything
to keep Bob, for the baby's sake. 'OK. Do you want me to bring
anything?'

'No, little bunny. But wear that denim jacket your big bear likes so
much.'

'My denim jacket, in this weather?'

'It'll get really sunny later, believe you me. But wear the denim
jacket, rabbity girl. I get sooo excited when I see you in that!'

Emma shrugged and blew a kiss into the phone. 'See you there, big
bear,' she whispered.

'My babies both,' he crooned.

Bob drove the couple of miles south to Beachy Head and parked right at
the cliff's edge near Lover's Leap.

He looked over the cliff to the sheer drop onto the rocks below and his
heart thudded against his ribs.

How many desperate people had driven over these cliffs, he asked
himself.

He got in the car and drove back to the Pole and Eagle to celebrate the
eve of his new life.

After Sandrine had met what he secretly thought of as her fate people
would see him driving around, albeit in another car, but with Emma. And
they'd never dream it wasn't Sandrine.

Why, even he had trouble telling them apart sometimes if he didn't have
his contact lenses in! And it was fortunate that Emma had a denim
jacket just like Sandrine's.

He'd sell the house in London. All that Neo-gothic stuff was going out
of fashion anyway. He'd design an open plan house for himself and Em
and the baby with the proceeds. And Sandrine's money would mean he
could practically retire.

As he left the pub to collect Sandrine from the cottage he heard an
ambulance clanging up the lane and when he got to the cottage a police
car was parked outside.

Bob noticed that the front door stood propped open but there was so
sign of Sandrine.

'What's happened?' Bob asked the policeman standing beside his
car.

'Are you Mr Crashaw, sir?'

"Yes, I am. What's wrong?'

'Your wife, sir. They've just taken her off in the ambulance.'

'My wife? Did she have an accident?'

'Your wife was in the bath, sir...'

'...yes, I know. I went out to get the papers. I came back to pick her
up.'

'...and the ventilation channel must have been blocked. Carbon monoxide
poisoning, sir.'

Bob stared at the policeman. 'Is it serious?'

'I shouldn't be saying this, sir, but I'm afraid it is. There was no
hope of resuscitation.'

Bob looked bewildered.

'I'm very sorry, sir. Someone had to say it.'

Bob stared into the policeman's eyes for a few seconds without
speaking. 'Who gave the alarm? My wife was on her own.'

'A young lady called us in, sir,' the policeman said.

Bob looked even more bewildered. 'Young lady? Well, how did she know,
then?'

'No idea, sir. We received an emergency call. This young lady may have
called round to visit your wife. She is a relative, I presume. I helped
the paramedics to carry Mrs Crashaw out to the ambulance and I couldn't
help noticing they looked a lot alike. Uncannily so, I should
say.'

Bob wiped his forehead. 'I'd better get down to the hospital anyway,'
he said, turning to go.

'Yes, sir. That's right, sir. And please accept my sympathy, sir.
Terrible business. Happens more often than you think.' The man got into
the police car and drove away up the lane.

At the Pole and Eagle Bob saw Emma's little white Ford in the car park.
He walked in and sat down beside her on the window seat, moving her
denim jacket out of the way.

'Bunny one!' Bob kissed her hard on her closed lips. 'You'll never
guess what's happened...'

Slowly she held out her arms and pulled his head onto her chest.

'Porphryo,' she whispered in his ear. 'Thy Madelaine will never leave
thee. Thee and thy steed.'

18

3