CUL  DE  SAC

                                                                           by Phyllis Owen

   It was with a vague feeling of annoyance that Leah sat in her lounge watching while some men off-loaded furniture from a pentechnicon into the home next door.  She sighed and thought back to the day when, some seven years ago, the three families had first met during the building of their new homes.  The street was a cul-de-sac of only three houses.  Leah and Brett had the center plot and were flanked by Melanie and Greg on their left and Isabel and Paul on their right.  Over the years she had always treasured the thought that her house was by far the nicest and most expensive of the three.  They had all moved into their homes more or less at the same time and the wives had become a closely knit unit.  A year ago Melanie’s son, Ralph, had married Isabel’s daughter, Lise.

  The husbands had nothing in common.  Their jobs were as varied as their hobbies.  Leah was a golf widow. Brett, an Insurance Agent, maintained he did most of his business on the golf course.  Paul, a tennis coach, was hardly seen over weekends.  As far as Leah could make out, Greg, Melanie’s husband, a bank official, was completely under her thumb.  His only interest in life was his garden, which was a mass of blossom in spite of the drought.  He had prevailed upon Melanie to store all the water from the washing machine and the dishwater in a large iron bath that was kept in an alley between their garage and Leah’s picket fence.  If she stood on tiptoe she could not help see it there.  Each evening Greg would empty its contents, with the aid of a bucket, on the shrubs and flowers.

  Everything about the bath and those buckets of turgid water was quite distasteful because it lowered the tone of the cul-de-sac.  Brett had once said that Greg was such a colourless individual that if ever he appeared on colour TV he would come across in black and white.

  Nevertheless, Leah secretly envied Melanie.  Greg was proud of his garden.  She was forced to admit grudgingly, that it was the best in the area.  This was a further cause of annoyance to her for, at a time when they could least afford to do so, Brett had employed a landscape gardener to lay out their garden.  Though it was attractive, Greg’s garden, with his doting care, had turned their irregularly shaped plot into a luxurious greenhouse.  When asked why his garden flourished, Greg would laughingly reply, ‘I talk to the plants and they listen to me.’

  Then a sudden and complete disruption came into their lives.  The three women had finished their weekly shopping and were in Leah’s lounge having tea.

  ‘There’s something the matter with you today, Melanie,’ she had exclaimed.  ‘Come on, out with it.’

  ‘You’re right, Leah,’ Isabel had broken in.  ‘I’ve noticed it too.  She seems to be in another world.’

  ‘It’s,’ Melanie’s voice trailed away.  She twisted her necklace nervously between her fingers.

  ‘You’re pregnant,’ Leah joked.

  Isabel let out a snort.  ‘That must be it, Leah,’ she said, chuckling.

  Melanie’s face seemed to crumble and she burst into tears.

  Leah and Isabel looked at each other helplessly for Melanie was always practical and unflappable.  After a while she fumbled for some tissues in her bag and wiping her eyes gave her friends a watery smile.  Then, taking a deep breath, she burst out, ‘Damn him!  Damn him for his lies and his hide and seek games!’

  ‘Damn who?’ queried Leah.

  ‘Remember our joke about middle-aged men?’ Melanie asked.

  They nodded, surprised.  Leah gave her a startled glance.  She could almost guess what was to come.

  ‘Well, Greg is now going through ‘Change of Wife.’  He left us last night.  He says he’s going to marry his secretary, that floozy with the high hips!’

  Leah and Isabel froze for a moment.  Greg of all people, thought Leah, the last one she would have expected to have an affair.  It was like some melodramatic television soupy.  She didn’t think he had it in him.  A tingle of annoyance shuddered through her.  With great effort she managed to keep her voice steady although her lips felt stiff and cold.  ‘He’ll come back, don’t worry, Melanie,’ she said soothingly.  ‘This is just a flash in the pan.’

  Melanie’s face darkened with a kind of bitter helplessness.  ‘Not Greg.  Once he’s made up his mind it’s the end.  He never does things on the spur of the moment.  Also, I’m not sure, but I think she’s pregnant.’

  Leah allowed her glance to rest momentarily upon Isabel.  She saw the sadness in her eyes suddenly turn to anger.

  ‘You’re well rid of him, Melanie,’ she burst out.  ‘Sometimes human nature sickens me.’

   ‘After all these years!   It seems like a dream,’ began Melanie, a sob in her voice.  ‘No, not a dream, a nightmare.  It’s just that I can’t blot him out of my life, but I’ll never forgive him for all the lies and pretense.  Even if he came back I wouldn’t have him.’

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ demanded Leah, chiding herself for feeling upset.

  ‘Since the Company’s last Christmas party,’ cried Melanie.

  This remark sent all number of turbulent feelings through Leah.

  ‘The Company’s party for staff only,’ Isabel sneered.  ‘I remember that well.  You and Greg had a row about it.’

  Melanie nodded, wiping her eyes.

  ‘It has caused two unhappy marriages,’ she choked.  ‘Our marriage and Hester, the secretary, is divorcing her husband.  At least she hasn’t children.’

  ‘But soon will have,’ Isabel sniffed.

  ‘How have your children taken it?’ Lea asked.

  ‘Badly, very badly,’ replied Melanie, her eyes narrowing.  ‘They don’t ever want to see their father again.’

  ‘They’ll get over that.  They usually do,’ snapped Leah, biting her lip.  ‘He’ll soon be worming his way into their lives.  Don’t forget the usual story that you didn’t understand him.’

  The weeks that passed had been traumatic for them all.  To Leah it had been like a death in the family.  Melanie’s house had been sold and she and the younger children went back to their old village where she would teach at the school.  Now strangers were moving in.  Anger welled up in her.

  ‘Oh, damn everything!’ she exploded, and went to put on the kettle.  ‘I suppose I’d better make the new neighbours some tea and cite them out.’

  After switching on the kettle she looked out of the window and sighed.  How long she stood there clinging again poignantly to the past, she did not know, but she gave a violent start as the kettle whistled suddenly.

  She busied herself in the kitchen, flushing with anger when she recalled her last encounter with Greg, the arrogant, condescending moron.  After Melanie left the house she had brought the keys to her.

  ‘Greg will be calling for these later, Leah,’ she said.  ‘Do you mind handing them to him?’

  ‘Not at all,’ she replied, hoping her voice sounded casually friendly for she did not want to reveal her revulsion at seeing Greg again.

  Later, when he knocked on the door, she grabbed the keys from the table in the hall, marched to the door and opened it.  Greg stood on the doorstep, looking defiant.  Pushing out her hand, she almost threw the keys into his outstretched palm.

  After staring at each other for a moment, Leah, trying to sound casual, said more bitingly than she had intended, ‘She must be something if she can drag you from the love of your life, your garden.’

  ‘Damn it!  What right have you to judge me,’ Greg spat out.

  ‘What do you mean, judge you,’ she snapped.  ‘Is your guilty conscience pricking you?’

  ‘Your face is an open book,’ he snarled, running his fingers through his hair.  ‘You were never good at hiding your feelings.’

  Leah stared at him, aghast.

  ‘How dare you!’ she retorted.  ‘How dare you try to make me feel guilty when it’s you who should feel ashamed.  Fancy colourless Greg having an affair.  It’s a case of still waters.’

  ‘Didn’t think I had it in me?’ he sniggered.  ‘You’ve always considered me the village idiot because I wouldn’t conform to your miserable lifestyles. If you must know, I’ve lived a life of hell.  Nothing I did was good enough.  Now I’ve found someone who loves me for myself.  Everyone gets what he or she deserves.  Brett calls you the ‘Gang of Three’.  How apt!  I’m sure golf is his escape.’

    Before she could reply, he turned and walked to his car.  After slamming the door, he drove away at high speed.

  Stunned, she watched the car as it sped around the corner and disappeared.  Then with a defiant toss of her head she closed the door.

     She set the tray and as an afterthought, put on a chocolate cake she had bought that morning.  The whole atmosphere of the cul-de-sac had changed.  Even her relationship with Isabel, for some reason, had soured. 

  Picking up the tray she made her way through the front door.  The lawn, of what had once been Melanie’s home, was strewn with packing cases.  As she walked down the pathway she could smell the scents of rosemary and lavender and looking around the garden she spied the Golden Moon hibiscus shrub they had given Melanie and Greg as a wedding anniversary present.  Ironically it was in full bloom.

  ‘I can’t bear it,’ she whispered and stopped.  ‘I think I’ll slip quietly away.  No one has seen me.’

  She turned and was about to make her escape when from behind her a woman’s voice called,  ‘Hello!  Come in, the door is open.’

  Startled, she turned and walked to the front door.  The new arrival, a woman in her early forties was there to meet her.

  ‘My name’s Jean,’ she said, smiling.  ‘It’s so good of you to bring tea, and cake too, how wonderfully kind.’  Her smile as she spoke transformed her rather plain face. 

  Leah looked narrowly at her noticing her smooth skin and large violet eyes.  The corners of her mouth were turned up giving her a mischievous look.

  Jean led her into the lounge.  Leah was taken aback to find it expensively furnished and she couldn’t help noticing, grudgingly, the soft feminine touch which makes a house a home.

  ‘Lovely furniture,’ she said.

  ‘Yes.  We were fortunate,’ laughed Jean.  ‘Julian’s mother gave up her enormous house and moved into a flat, giving us the furniture.  Lucky for us.’

    Leah looked around the room.  The same house and yet so transformed with someone else’s furniture, almost like a different house.

  Putting the tray down on a low coffee table she began to pour the tea.

  ‘My husband was called out for an emergency,’ Jean explained, as if to break the silence.

  ‘What work does he do?’ Leah asked, smiling ingratiatingly.

  ‘Oh, he’s a surgeon at the hospital,’ Jean answered.

  Leah stared at her speechlessly and for a moment didn’t know how to reply.  Then she noticed a photograph on the wall of a little girl about six years old.  ‘So you have a daughter?’ she queried.

   ‘No.  It’s my sister’s little girl.  She’s lovely.  I can’t have children.’  Then a smile seemed to come up from inside her lighting up her face.   ‘But I’m on the committee of the Children’s Home and we help with the running and the upbringing of the children.  I’ve found such joy in my work.  You’ll often hear the sound of children in our garden as Julian, my husband, and I take a few from the home every weekend.  He’s wonderful with young people.’  She smiled.  ‘If you ever have any free time please let me know.  We always need helpers.’

  Leah gave her a weak smile but said nothing.

  After tea, she hurriedly excused herself.  Back home she sat for a long time deep in thought.  Then, jumping up, she telephoned Isabel.

  ‘Hello,’ she said more bitingly than she intended when she heard the voice on the other end, ‘I’ve just met our new neighbour.  I’m afraid she’s going to be a problem.  We have a ‘do gooder’ in our midst.’

  Isabel laughed.  ‘I was speaking to her at the fence earlier on and I thought she was delightful.  I told her I’d help whenever I can.’

  Leah was completely dumbstruck.  Greg’s misdemeanour had affected them all.  Life, as she knew it, was never going to be the same.

The end

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