He was three years younger than Edmund, a teacher who worked abroad at a private school in Abu Dhabi. He came over for a holiday around the time Edmund and I started courting. Yes, that’s what we called it!
Now, what can I say about Arty, short for Arthur? He was loud, confident, politically opinionated erring on the liberal, irreverent with regards to authority of any kind and, to my abject horror, an atheist. So basically, he was the polar opposite of Edmund, who, rather than be irritated by his younger brother, took Arty in his stride – the recalcitrant sibling he simply tolerated.
I couldn’t understand how they could be so diametrically opposed and yes, I was offended by Arty’s views and comments, his glib attitude to Edmundandmy father’s vocation. I also felt that while he didn’t come right out and say it, he thought I was a bit of a stuck-up prig. Which was why I was glad when he buggered off back to Abu Dhabi and then took another post in Japan.
After that, communication between the brothers was via letter, and I was glad, especially because he was on the other side of the world.
We didn’t see him for two years but when Edmund finally proposed, and a date was set, Arty came home for the wedding. I suppose I was too wrapped up in the arrangements to be irritated by his imminent return, and my mother and Francesca kept me occupied on the run-up to the big day. So much so that when Edmund rang to say that Arty had flown in a couple of weeks earlier than expected, I was totally blindsided.
Being polite, I asked Edmund to bring him for Sunday lunch at the vicarage. I’d resolved to keep the peace and say an extra prayer at morning service, asking that Arty buggered right back off again, once the wedding was over.
I feel it’s important to point out that whilst it was the eighties, not the Edwardian era, because of our faith and especially Edmund’s job, sex outside marriage was strictly forbidden. And for a red-blooded young woman in her very early twenties, it was the first time that my beliefs were sorely tested. Unfortunately my fiancé was made of sterner stuff. However, it would only have taken a nod and a wink from Edmund, and I would’ve happily disobeyed the Lord, raced to my bedroom, and got down to some bits and bobbing. Sadly, it was not to be.
Edmund and I only ever held hands and shared kisses, and I admit to exaggerating our very chaste moments. In whispers, as we sat in our regular corner pew at church, I told Francesca the most ridiculous tales of fumblings in the back of his Vauxhall Astra and red-hot moments of passion in the parlour while my parents were at prayer meetings.
Privately, I built our wedding night up in my head to equal every single Mills & Boon and Rosamunde Pilcher I’d ever read. I was bubbling with nerves and excitement about finally knowing what all the fuss was about. Because Edmund was reserved in the passion department, I told myself he’d been saving it all up for me. As soon as the bedroom door closed and he saw me in my Janet Reger lace slip that I’d bought from Debenhams, blushing as I handed it to the assistant, he would explode.
I was on the verge myself when I clapped eyes on Arty again, at my parents’ house, on the veranda that Sunday afternoon. He took my hand, an action I thought rather unnecessary yet sweet, and looked me in the eye. He said he wassopleased to see me again and gave me a smile that would melt ice. In that very odd moment, something changed, in me.
Over lunch I was astounded by the difference in a man who’d previously irritated me to the point of tears. Gone was the bluster, the quips and one-liners, the tendency to take over the conversation with banal or self-absorbed points of view.
And then the looks, not furtive. They were aimed, as if trying to tell me something. He listened attentively when I spoke, causing me to clam up, not wishing to attract his attention and fall under the gaze of those pale blue eyes. As I tried to swallow my food and concentrate on whatever the others were saying I told myself not to look at him, then dared myself to disobey. Each time I weakened his eyes found mine. They were waiting.
I was in such a flap. Asking myself was it a game, to amuse and pass the time? Then after he’d had his fun, would the real Arty show himself and disappoint me? But he didn’t.
It was early evening and while father and Edmund were examining the rose garden and discussing sawflies, mother had asked me to check the veranda for empty sherry glasses. I found Arty sitting alone at the patio table, deep in thought. He looked up, smiled. He didn’t say a word at first and held me in his gaze like he was lost in the sight of me and poof, just like that, I found myself lost in him.
Arty recovered himself first. ‘Hello, you. I was hoping you’d come outside so we could chat. I couldn’t get a word in over lunch, and I really have been looking forward to seeing you again.’ He patted the chair by his side and like a mesmerised child I obeyed and took a seat.
I really couldn’t think of one word to say so instead I waited for him to take the lead which he did with confidence, and it struck me that maybe, he’d been rehearsing what to say. At the time it was a hunch, but I soon found out I was right. Arty had been waiting for years to see me again.
‘So, marriage. I have to say I wasn’t expecting that. When I received Edmund’s letter, it was a huge surprise.’ He was watching me closely as he spoke and when I somehow found my voice, was surprised at my own response.
‘What, that he’d asked, or that I said yes?’
A smile, and then the answer which sounded a bit sad and a bit annoyed all at once.
‘Both. I didn’t think Ed had it in him, to take the plunge and be prepared to share himself with a real life human when he’s always been in love with God, and himself obviously. I’d hoped that you wouldn’t fall under his spell, but you have, and it makes me a bit…’
At this point mother popped her head through the French windows and asked if anyone would like tea. Father and Edmund were out of earshot. Arty and I declined but mother was determined to feed and water us all. ‘I’ll just bring a tray out anyway. Back in a tick.’
When she’d gone I turned to Arty and asked a question. Probably the most astounding of my whole life. And you know something, I think I already knew the answer and wanted him to confirm it, right there and then, tempting fate.
‘And exactly how does it make you feel? Me, being under his spell.’
A heartbeat, I saw his chest expand, his eyes narrow a touch and then he answered. ‘Disappointed, cross, usurped, out manoeuvred, foolish, ridiculously hurt. Need I go on?’
I swooned, it’s really a thing. Something I’d read about but never experienced until then. I struggled to breathe, take in the magnitude of his words, their meaning. It was only the sound of the hostess tray rattling along the hall and my father and Edmund approaching that saved me. Actually, it was Arty, who masterfully steered attention away from me, just for a moment.
He focused on Edmund who was taking a seat opposite me. ‘I was saying to Robin that now I’m home, and seeing as it’s only for a short time, I really need to get to know my future sister-in-law. Make sure she’s suitable for my old fuddy-duddy brother and vice versa.’
‘I think that’s a splendid idea, don’t you, Robin?’ Edmund somehow made questions sound like a command.
I nodded. ‘Yes, that would be lovely but I’m so busy with the wedding arrangements and work…’
‘Well, you must get a lunch hour. What say I pick you up tomorrow? Would that suit?’ With an encouraging smile and earnest eyes, Arty waited.
I was struck mute once again and looked to Edmund for a sign that he realised what was going on.
