 |
|||
|
|
I have always enjoyed railway stations. Their existence speaks of the energies of our Victorian forebears.
I had been happy when Mr James had suggested Euston as the venue for our meeting as he passed through London en route to some meeting or other. Entering the terminus of the London and North Western Railway through Hardwick’s great Doric propylaeum is one of life’s pleasures for me.
The first class traveller’s lounge sits high above the platforms looking out across the concourse and the magnificent wrought iron roof of the shed. The station was the scene of considerable construction effort. The decision to adopt Mr Brunel’s Broad Gauge as the standard, while controversial in terms of the investment needed and disruption caused was delivering a railway network of unrivalled comfort and capacity.
Mr James was already there when I arrived, enjoying a pot of Earl Grey tea. He stood up as I arrived and shook me warmly by the hand. “Good day!” he exclaimed.
“Indeed it is, I replied.
“An impressive sight,” James waved to the mass of humanity pouring from a recently arrived train, the commuters jostling to get through the ticket barrier as they pressed to get from the standing room only carriages of their trains to the equally packed Underground Railway or General Omnibus services that would take them on to their places of work. Their parliamentary tickets – a penny a mile, a rate set in 1844 and still unchanged – at least ensured that those who wished to enjoy the pleasures of the iron road, or those whose employment required it, could afford to do so.
“The seething masses that sustain us all.”
“Ah, I had meant the Mogul.” He nodded to the locomotive at the head of the platform.
“Ah, yes.” I’ve always felt that the modern fashion of cladding locomotives in fairings to improve their aerodynamic performance has taken away much of their romance. The enclosed boiler heaters and recycled steam may be cleaner and more efficient but I still recall with nostalgia the clouds of steam shrouding a locomotive as it hauled its way up some bank or other; a sight lost to us today.
A waitress appeared. James enquired if I would take tea and I accepted his offer. A further pot, this time of my preferred Assam, arrived. The waitress poured a stream of the orange liquid into a fine china cup and left us to our discussions.
“How is my wife progressing?” Mr James leant forward, his tone one of evident concern for his wife’s well being as much as for the success of her training.
“She is well,” I said.
“I was concerned that she might find the experience,” he paused, groping for the words that would describe his worries, “difficult to come to terms with.”
I try to avoid passing comment on those that are part way through their time with me. It is often difficult to judge the final outcome until the combination of circumstances has had the opportunity to work its effect. Nevertheless, it was not uncommon for my clients to seek some form of interim report on the progress of those in my care.
“I quite understand,” I replied. “Indeed, - if I can be candid,” James nodded and picked up his tea. “I had felt myself that her background and history might have inhibited her ability to benefit from her experience. However, I am pleased with how well things are going. I believe we can achieve your aims. I am quite confident.”
Mr James looked relieved. “I am pleased to hear it. This is important to me and it is a significant investment.”
Something about the way that he spoke made me feel that it was not just a financial concern to which he was referring. “You must miss her,” I said. “I am sorry but I fear that it is only by a period of separation that the adjustments that you seek can be achieved.”
“I know. And yes, you are right, I do miss her. It is the longest we have been apart since our marriage and I must confess that I had come to enjoy the consolations of the marriage bed.”
I realised at once that he had made no alternative arrangements during his wife’s absence. Such a state of affairs could only compound any anxieties he might have about his wife and could lead to a less than successful reunion at the conclusion of Nicola’s education.
“Mr James,” I began anxiously. ”Please allow me to speak on a personal matter. I most whole-heartedly recommend that you should not allow that circumstance to continue. You should put aside any moral scruples that might prevent you making some compensatory arrangements. I would advise that it can only be beneficial to both yourself and your wife to ensure that you do not allow this time apart to be the cause of any unfortunate nervous tension as a result of her absence. It is a matter of scientific fact that the male, deprived of sexual outlet, may become pray too many ill humours of the spirit.”
“I do see your point,” Meriel’s distracted glance at a passing waitress further convinced me of the problem. “But I must confess that I have never been a frequenter of bars or brothels or other places where one might gain the benefits of a casual embrace.”
“Quite,” I responded. I understood entirely. Meriel was a man that had submerged himself in his work, focused his energies on his career, relying on his wife to provide for his emotional sustenance. His situation was understandable and not uncommon. I had encountered it before and had established a successful strategy for addressing it. “If you will allow me, I think I can assist. Perhaps, I could send one of my other pupils to you; one that has recently completed her period of adjustment? This would provide you with the means of appreciating the changes that can be anticipated in your own wife and would also provide some respite for your own condition. It would also be, I confess, a convenience for myself; a way of providing an additional challenge to one of my more, difficult pupils.”
“Can you really do this?” Meriel asked enthusiastically. “It would, I am sure be a most capital idea. Nicola must not know, though. You do understand?”
“I am not sure that you are right on that matter,” I said. “You must leave the management of your wife to me for the time being and trust my methods. I think I know who I can send to you but there needs to be a few days preparation. When would be convenient for you?”
“I place my faith in your judgement,” Meriel responded. “This Friday would be most suitable if that would provide sufficient time?”
“Ample! I shall advise you of the exact arrangements but let us proceed on that basis.” I could see that Meriel James was already much relieved by my proposals. His entire demeanour at once returned to the enthusiastic, well humoured, man that had first impressed me as deserving of the benefits of my methods. It was clear that if his wife could become the asset he deserved he would indeed be able to rise to the highest ranks of his profession.
We shook hands as Meriel James left. Now he was smiling and relaxed, confident, self-assured. I, for my part, returned to the Highgate house but took myself by way of the home of an earlier client in Marylebone in order to ask a favour.
© 2011 Freddie Clegg
|
|
|