Different Genes Read online

  They gathered together the necessary paperwork and handed it to the clergyman.

  “Oh, a shortened birth certificate… no mention of parents or place of birth,” commented the vicar to Louise. “I don’t often see one of these.”

  “I was born in Singapore,” explained Louise.

  “That probably accounts for it,” replied the vicar.

  The wedding passed without incident. Gillian and Michelle were both bridesmaids dressed in deep blue satin gowns with leg of mutton sleeves. Michelle had wanted to wear crimson, but Louise chose a colour which would not clash with Gillian’s vivid red hair. Despite Charlie’s objections, Louise stayed with her parents for a whole month before the wedding. She delighted her mother by modelling the simple oyster-white wedding dress which she had chosen for her special day. The classical design, accessorised with a deep blue bouquet of trailing blooms, though not especially fashionable for the late seventies, suited Louise’s willowy figure and lightly curled long hair. The contrast between Louise and the rest of Joan’s family was yet again very apparent, and Louise’s entrance in the Church silenced the congregation into admiration. Despite his mother’s opinion that Louise had chosen far too simple a design for her dress, Charlie looked at his bride to be with pride. He had indeed been clever to capture such an attractive prize.

  The reception ran perfectly to plan. Peter made a heartfelt speech in which he extolled the virtues of his daughter. Charlie made a humorous speech with occasional innuendo about his sex-life with Louise. Mandy flirted with Luigi and hinted that the role of bridesmaid was traditionally a precursor to another wedding.

  Charlie and Louise purchased a brand-new, semi-detached house near Tunbridge Wells, close to where Charlie worked. Louise secured a teaching post at a secondary school nearby and embarked on a successful career teaching English, History and Art. She had a lively personality and, with her renewed confidence, related well to her students. She was rapidly promoted to Head of Department. The additional salary soon enabled the young married couple to mortgage themselves into a large detached house ten miles north of Robertsbridge in East Sussex. Michelle visited regularly and, a few years later, stayed with the married couple for several weeks, after she parted company with Luigi.

  Gillian found Charlie irritating, but kept up her friendship with Louise. Louise and Gillian would ring each other every few weeks. Several years later, Louise had an unexpected extra phone call from Gillian.

  “Hi Gillian, how’s the job?” Gillian was now a senior social worker in Brighton.

  “The job’s fine, but that’s not why I’m phoning. I’ve got to tell someone. I have fallen in love.”

  “At last! I’ll ring you back in an hour. Charlie will be watching football, and we can have a good gossip.”

  Louise phoned back as promised.

  “Tell me all about her then.”

  “Her name is Catherine. She’s two years older than me, and she’s a nursing sister at the Royal Sussex Hospital in Brighton. She likes me to look feminine. She has long dark hair, she is kind and funny, and she looks stunning in her nurse’s uniform.”

  “Too much information, Gillian.”

  “Sorry. We met at a social services training course on child protection. We are buying a flat together in Brighton.”

  “I am so pleased for you, Gillian. You’ve taken your time, but it sounds like you’ve found your ideal partner. I wish I’d taken a bit more time to find mine.”

  “Things not going well?”

  “Oh, you know, it’s okay. I don’t ask what he does when he goes away on his so-called business trips. I said that to Mandy once, and she implied that a man only strays, if his wife can’t satisfy him. She never criticises Michelle, but she is a cow to me sometimes. So when am I going to meet Catherine?”

  “As soon as we’ve moved, I’ll invite you over to see our new flat.”

  “That sounds lovely. I will look forward to it.”

  Much to Mandy’s disappointment, the longed for grandchildren had never appeared, so Louise consoled herself by concentrating on her career. The early novelty of the difference between her parents and her in-laws soon wore off, not helped by Mandy’s occasional hints that Louise was somehow deficient by not producing an heir. Charlie began to spend more frequent nights away on business, and Louise converted the childless fourth bedroom into a temporary art studio. She compensated for her growing loneliness by spending her evenings painting large swirling watercolours. Charlie disliked the mess, but was impressed with the extra income generated by the sales of her pictures. Over the years his earnings and prospects had fluctuated with the fortunes of the UK car industry, and they were both grateful for the constancy of Louise’s more secure income as a teacher.

  When Louise was in her late thirties, the local comprehensive school in Robertsbridge set up a locally-based behaviour unit with additional outreach to nearby primary schools. The curriculum would still cover the basics, but there would be more emphasis on vocational studies and practical work. Louise was now recognised for her ability to deal with more challenging students, and had long been a source of pastoral support for less-experienced colleagues. With her love of English, and her creative abilities, she was the ideal candidate to head up the new unit. She was interviewed and appointed as Head of Centre and received a salary commensurate with her new responsibilities. Charlie wanted them to move again to a larger, more prestigious property, but, by this time, Louise was beginning to doubt whether their marriage would survive. She refused to move again, began to set aside a proportion of her salary into a personal savings account, and to work towards greater financial independence. Charlie seemed neither to notice or care.

  A few years after the millennium, the behaviour unit’s host school converted to an Academy. The political climate had changed, and the centre was instructed to concentrate more fully on a traditional, less creative, curriculum. Louise struggled to make the more rigorous system work for her, often damaged, students, and she disliked the increasing pressure of her new target-driven role. Eventually the centre fell victim to severe education cuts, and was closed. Louise was offered voluntary redundancy with an enhanced pension in her late fifties, which she gratefully accepted. She taught watercolours part-time at local evening classes for a couple more years and then retired fully to concentrate on her own painting.

  Peter had retired from the Civil Service three years after Louise got married. He and Joan spent ten happy retirement years together with frequent holidays abroad, including one return visit to Singapore. Sadly, just after his seventieth birthday Peter began to develop a persistent cough. After two severe throat infections and a bout of bronchitis he noticed his breathing was becoming laboured. Despite his diplomatic training, which discouraged the discussion of personal ailments, Peter paid a long overdue visit to his GP. An immediate referral to the hospital was followed by a chest x-ray. The consultant showed Peter the large patch on his lung, which was diagnosed as malignant. The blame was placed on years of diplomatic cigars and London pollution. After one series of radiotherapy, the malignancy slowed down, but so did Peter, not helped by a succession of chest infections which eventually turned into pneumonia. He died in 1994.

  The following year, Joan, whose own parents had passed away some years previously, decided to break her ties with Hertfordshire and move to the coast. She bought a bungalow in the East Sussex village of Fairlight. It was a picturesque rural community which nestled on the cliff top between Hastings and Rye. The location was close enough to Tunbridge Wells for Joan to visit Louise and Charlie, and she hoped to tempt Louise to stay with the prospect of sea views which demanded to be painted. Much to Louise’s surprise, Joan sold most of the antique furniture and replaced it with Parker Knoll, Ercol, and floral carpets and curtains. ‘My dad would be horrified,’ thought Louise, though not unkindly. Peter had always been the master of the house, and that had i
ncluded the family taste in décor.

  Despite the frequent mists which would suddenly descend over the cliff, Louise visited her mother with her artist’s kit often in the first years after Joan relocated. The internal walls of Joan’s bungalow in Fairlight, and those of her neighbours, were soon covered in framed original watercolours of local scenery signed by Louise Windsor.

  Louise finally divorced Charlie two years after her father died. No longer constrained by the strict shadow of Peter’s diplomatic service morals, Louise felt free to make all her own choices. She knew that Charlie had been unfaithful to her more than once. She wanted to paint, to visit her mother more frequently, and to hold a conversation which did not centre around sales targets and impressing colleagues. There were no children in the marriage to hold it together, and she had sufficient income and potential pension to ensure her independence. Charlie made no objections, when Louise finally told him she wanted a divorce. He simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “If that’s what you want.”

  They eventually came to a financial agreement. Louise reverted to the surname ‘Watson’, but kept the title ‘Mrs’, which she preferred to ‘Ms’. Within three months of the divorce Charlie had traded Louise in for a younger, more fashionable model. “Good thing we have no children,” Louise confessed to Gillian. “I fear that Charlie’s new wife is about to eat into his assets.”

  Michelle had proved a useful go-between during the pre-divorce negotiations, but once they were no longer married, Louise’s friendship with Michelle faded away, until it consisted only of an annual Christmas card.

  Bob had lived in Sawbridgeworth most of his life. As a child he had resided a few doors away from Joan, Peter and Louise. After he left home, he purchased a small flat of his own in Sawbridgeworth town centre and stayed in contact with Joan and Peter. When Peter became ill, Joan would invite Bob for a weekly Sunday lunch, and Peter was grateful that his wife had some company. Two years after Joan moved to Fairlight, Bob retired and purchased a semi-detached house in Hastings. Property in Hastings was far less expensive than in the Hertfordshire commuter belt, so Bob was able to afford the larger property. He never invited Joan or Louise to visit his new home, but his weekly Sunday lunches with Joan were soon reinstated.

  Catherine and Gillian legalised their relationship with a partnership ceremony some years after Louise split up with Charlie. Louise was asked to be a witness, and Louise and Joan travelled together to the registry office in Brighton. Although Joan was known for her traditional views, unlike many women of her age, she was perfectly at ease with the idea of Gillian having a female partner. “It’s the diplomatic service that does it,” she explained to Louise, “It gives you a very broad view of the world. Very little surprises me these days.”

  Louise was grateful for her mother’s company, and relieved not to have Charlie sneering at Gillian behind her back.

  Five

  After Joan

  Louise’s studio was located on the top two floors of a wooden-clad, listed building in the village of Robertsbridge. The property had been an indulgent post-divorce purchase, of which her mother disapproved. Although Joan was enormously proud of her daughter’s artistic talent, she had never come to terms with Louise’s slightly bohemian tastes.

  “What’s wrong with a nice modern flat with sea views? You could do lovely paintings from there, and you don’t have a man any more to help you with maintenance. They have some really spacious, new apartments on the outskirts of Hastings. You’ll soon be fed up with those stairs. You’re not getting any younger.”

  Louise smiled indulgently at Joan and ignored her. Her mother was right about the stairs, but Louise was buying a lifestyle and a view. As well as containing an en suite double bedroom, the top floor of her new home housed a large, open-plan, studio area with full-length windows on two sides. The room made full use of available light, and was a perfect retreat for a painter. Buying the studio was a final rejection of her time with Charlie, and it was good value. Mortgages on listed buildings were difficult to obtain, but, with a small subsidy from her late-father’s estate, Louise was a cash buyer.

  After years of hard work, Louise had converted the two-storey apartment into a beautifully refurbished home with lounge, kitchen, two bedrooms and bathroom on the lower floor and a very spacious open-plan art studio/living area and en suite double bedroom on the upper floor. The changing views across the Sussex countryside from the large top-floor windows were breathtaking.

  Louise arrived home after her weekend clearing Joan’s bungalow and parked her car behind the flat. She unlocked the front door and sighed at the number of boxes which would need to be carried up three flights of stairs to her home. She wondered whether she would dare to try and persuade her downstairs neighbours, Frank and Doreen, to sell the rest of the house to her. Joan’s bungalow would surely fetch enough money for her to make the purchase.

  Louise climbed the stairs holding a small box in her arms. “One box every trip,” she mumbled. She left the box in her hallway and ascended to the studio. The afternoon autumn sunshine flooded into the room. It was good to be home. Although the kitchen and the living room were on the lower floor, Louise spent most of her time in the studio. She had created a small sitting area in addition to the central wooden farmhouse-style table and chairs. There was a kitchenette with a kettle and coffee maker on the worktop and a fridge beside the butler sink. The draining board had designated spaces for paintbrushes, pots and coffee mugs. With the kettle filled and boiling, Louise dropped into a chair and observed her surroundings. She wanted to plan the rest of her life, but could not envisage a sufficiently large block of time.

  ‘Small steps, Louise,’ she told herself, ‘One week at a time.’

  She walked into her bedroom and looked at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Louise was tall and slim, and the stairs at the flat had kept her fit. She had always been proud of her appearance. With the help of highlights, her hair still gave the impression of being effortlessly blonde. She looked young for her sixty-one years. That day, however, she noticed the tiredness on her face. Every line and shadow seemed to be exaggerated. The strain of the past weeks was showing. She needed to take some time for herself. Tea consumed, she grabbed several sturdy shopping bags and headed back downstairs. The small supermarket nearby was open, and she purchased some provisions. Leaving the remaining empty bags in her car, she re-entered the flat with a bag of shopping and a bag of paperwork. As darkness began to fall, she illuminated every room in the flat.

  Most people who knew Louise regarded her as capable and independent. They envied her apparent self-contained nature and her ability to live alone. Louise did not perceive herself in this way. She emitted a calm and confident façade which disguised her loneliness. She was only content with her own company when immersed in her watercolour painting. She spent the rest of her time on planned busyness to compensate for being alone. It was fear of loneliness which had helped to keep her with Charlie for so many years.

  She disliked the dark and always turned lights on in every part of her home. “Don’t you worry about your electricity bill?” Joan would frequently ask.

  “It used to be a problem, Mum, but not any more. These energy saving bulbs are very cheap to run.”

  Once her evening meal was eaten, Louise sat in the brightly-lit studio with a glass of wine. She telephoned her friend, Gillian.

  “Are you busy? I felt like a chat.”

  “No, not busy at all. Catherine is away for two weeks. I’m on my own. How’s it going?”

  “It’s a bit odd, not having Mum to chat to on the phone… and to worry about, but the bungalow is more or less sorted.”

  “You are so efficient, Louise. It took me months to sort out Dad’s house, when he died.”

  “You wouldn’t say I was efficient, if you saw my car. It’s still loaded with boxes.”

  “Well don’t try car
rying too much at once. The stairs at your flat are treacherous, and you need to look after your back.”

  “I know, I know. Gillian, can I come and stay for a few days?”

  “Of course, lovely, you are welcome any time, especially while Catherine is away.”

  Six

  Visiting Gillian

  Gillian now lived with her partner, Catherine, in a converted flat close to ‘The Lanes’ in Brighton. When Louise had finally split up with Charlie after many years of marriage, distant acquaintances wondered if Louise was also gay, about to evict Catherine and to move in with Gillian. Those who knew Louise well did not, for a moment, believe this. Louise projected a form of femininity, which was unconsciously, but entirely, heterosexual.

  Three days after Louise’s return from sorting out her mother’s bungalow, she had finally emptied her car. She filled it once more with two small suitcases, a watercolour painting, and a large bunch of flowers to make the promised visit to Gillian. It was about an hour’s drive to Brighton. Catherine was away on a training course, and Louise was able to use her allocated parking space. She arrived mid-afternoon, and was tempted to wander round ‘The Lanes’ before entering Gillian’s flat. However, she knew Gillian was anxious to see her and could feel Joan’s etiquette lecture in her head, ‘Visitors should always arrive punctually.’

  Louise resisted the temptation of ‘The Lanes’ and knocked at the door. Gillian looked relaxed and unkempt without Catherine to impress.

  “It’s so good to see you. Let me take your case.”