The War of the Weasel

Nicola and Lesley disagreed over a great many things. Nicola always tidied things away and Lesley was a cheerful clutterer. Nicola liked beach holidays and Lesley preferred city breaks. Their politics were often entirely different too.  Only a few years ago Nicola had voted Leave in the Referendum and Lesley had voted Remain. But their discussions on the matter were entirely good natured and they agreed that they were two middle-aged ladies who had been friends for God knows how long and though of course it mattered, their friendship mattered far more.

     In the end, though, they fell out over a man. Now you might say that’s the age old story, but perhaps not in the way you might think. It wasn’t that they were both in love with the same man. That was very far from the case! Lesley was very happily married to Hugh, and though their relationship had matured into comfortable companionship, the spark had never gone away. Nicola had been equally happily married to Nathan, and the four of them were a happy quartet. But illness is indifferent to happiness, and though he had never smoked, Nathan was diagnosed with lung cancer. Gently, his doctor told him that he only recommended palliative care. A few months later, the quartet that was now a trio gathered with other mourners at a quiet village churchyard. Nicola told Lesley that she didn’t know how she’d have coped without her, and she meant it. 

     Four months after Nathan died, Nicola told Lesley that she had met a very nice man and she’d like Lesley to meet him, too. Lesley couldn’t help being surprised, but she determinedly told herself she wasn’t one to sit in judgement, and Nathan had told Nicola that he wanted her to be happy and not “pine away”. 

     So it was with an open mind that she went to meet Lionel Morton. “Lionel, this is my oldest and dearest friend, Lesley,” Nicola said. Lesley had always prided herself on not judging people on their appearance, and it was quite true that it would not have mattered in the least to her if Lionel had a huge wart on his nose, or a beer belly or the like. He wasn’t what you’d call handsome, but he had even features and was neither too fat nor too thin. Yet the first word that came to mind was “weasel”. When he shook her hand that word was joined by another one of biological origin – fish. Cold fish. It felt as if it should have been on a slab. What’s next in the menagerie, she wondered, trying to shuck off her thoughts by facing them head on. “I’ve heard so much about you,” he said. It wasn’t an unusual thing for people to say and generally was laughed off and sidelined with some clichéd remark like “All good I hope!” As it was she merely asked, “Really?” and extricated her hand, resisting the urge to rub it on the back of her skirt. 

     It was not the most relaxed of meetings. Instead of her usual mugs, Nicola produced cups and saucers.  “I can’t be doing with mugs,” Lionel said, “Nasty, vulgar things. They encourage slurping. And tea tastes so much better from a proper cup on a proper saucer, doesn’t it, Nicola?”

     “It probably does,” she said.

     “No probably about it, my dear. Mugs make a kitchen look so – well, common and messy!”

     “If you don’t like a messy kitchen, you ought to see mine!” Lesley informed him. “Nic is a very tidy person, puts me to shame!”

     “Well, I always say there’s tidy and tidy,” Lionel said.

     Really? Lesley wondered, quoting herself. Always? That must get very tedious! Or even very tidy-ous! That kind of punning was something she and Nicola had always had in common. She doubted that Lionel would share that opinion.

     We are not going to get on, she thought. We make chalk and cheese look positively compatible in comparison. There is not going to be another quartet. She told herself it was probably on the rebound, and “on the rebound” relationships were often unwise and ill-considered. But Lionel was not a reckless charmer. He was about as unreckless and uncharming as it was possible to imagine. 

     “I don’t know what the hell she sees in him!” she exclaimed to Hugh that night. “And – if she asks me then I’m going to be honest!”

     They had always been honest about the men in their life, though of course, for decades, while the quartet was there, it hadn’t applied. But she could remember that back in their single days they had happily called prospective significant others Deadbeats and Smarmy and Mr Smug and The Sulk on Legs and remained best friends. 

     I just hope she doesn’t ask, she thought. Her wish was not to be granted. The very next day, Nicola asked her what she thought of Lionel. She didn’t say a great deal that she could have said, as she told Hugh later, but she did say, “I admit I didn’t take to him, Nic.”

     Well that was safe enough, surely, though it was unreal to be thinking about “safe” when it came to a conversation with Nicola.

     “I thought better of you! “

     “Nic, that’s the kind of phrase that amounts to emotional blackmail!”

     “I think what you mean is that I don’t automatically agree with you. Oh and please could you stop calling me Nic? I much prefer my full name.”

     “Not until you met Lionel you didn’t!”

     “Have you turned into a mind-reader? And I DID think better of you and it wasn’t in any way meant as emotional blackmail. Frankly I think you’re being rather shallow. His whole life Lionel has had to cope with people’s shallowness. Just because he’s not – not a crowd-pleaser, and has certain standards he gets treated like a pariah!”

     “He’s hardly worthy of stepping into Nathan’s shoes!” As soon as the words were out Lesley knew that she shouldn’t have said them, yet part of her couldn’t be entirely sorry. 

     “I loved Nathan dearly and you know it better than most – at least, I hope you do. But he wasn’t perfect!”

     “I never said that! But The Weasel most certainly isn’t!” It was as if when you’d crossed one barrier it became less onerous to cross another.

     “I beg your pardon? Did you refer to Lionel as The Weasel?”

     “I did and perhaps I shouldn’t have …..”

     “There’s no perhaps about it. Well I’m sorry, Lesley, but you’ve gone too far. Unless I get a proper apology I have no particular wish to hear from you!”

     We have fallen out, thought Lesley, the full import of that worming through her like a wriggling weight. Oh, of course we’ve fallen out before, hundreds of times, but this is different. Okay, perhaps calling him The Weasel was going too far, though I’m never going to stop thinking it, but she needn’t expect me to like him. 

     They had never necessarily called each other every single day, but the feeling that now they couldn’t, and she didn’t know when or if they ever could again was terrible. “But what am I to do!” she exclaimed to Hugh. “If she expects me to say that The Weasel is all that’s wonderful, then I’m not going to, I can’t!”

     “First impressions can be misleading, love,” Hugh said.

     Lesley was prepared to concede that but had the distinct feeling that second, third, and ninetieth impressions wouldn’t be any different. And some of it was evidence-based. Another friend, Laura, who lived in the same town as Nicola, told Lesley that her garden had been transformed, “And ruined in my opinion,” Laura said, frankly. Nicola, who was, after all, the tidy one, would never have let her garden run wild, but she loved wild flowers and thought there was no harm in leaving daisies alone, and even spared a few nettles because they attracted bees and butterflies. Now, so Laura told her, “There’s only decking with a few tame flowers that look scared to break rank at the edges. It’s a crying shame and I know perfectly well who’s to blame!”

     Lesley was outraged. Insisting on using cups and Nicola’s full name was one thing, but destroying her lovely garden for something wooden and soulless was another. “I take it you’ve met him,” she said.

     “Yes, and I’m not in any hurry to repeat the experience, I can tell you. Self-righteous little prig!” She paused, “I was going to say he’s after her money – Hugh left her well-provided for. But I don’t think that’s the case. He has a very good job at the bank, and I gather he has private means, too – only child, rich father, all that.”

     “That’s some cause for relief, I suppose,” Lesley said, but a part of her couldn’t help thinking it might even be better for someone to relieve Nicola of some of her money if she at least had a good time along the way, rather than sap her spirit and rob her of her beautiful garden. Her irritation was mingled with genuine concern. “You – don’t think he’s one of those – controlling sorts?” she asked.

     “None of us knows what goes on behind closed doors, of course,” Laura said. “But my instinct is – no, or not in the usual sense of the word. She certainly doesn’t seem in any way scared of him. It’s more – as if he’s infected her with his own mindset.” That was an image that lodged itself invidiously in Lesley’s own mind. I ought to go and see her, she thought. I ought to make the first move. But she kept putting it off. 

     She didn’t always answer numbers she didn’t recognise, but she did answer this time when her phone rang. “Lesley – it’s Lionel. Nicola is – very ill. She’s had a brain haemorrhage. At work,” So he’s let her carry on working, she thought, but that was only peripheral, “I – think you should come to the hospital.” 

     “I’ll be there as soon as I can,” she said, thinking, well he phoned me. That’s to his credit, I suppose. But her opinion of Lionel was irrelevant. Nicola was what mattered. 

     When she reached the hospital, the news was guarded, but good. Nicola had regained consciousness and though she was still weak and a bit confused, there seemed to be no lasting damage though of course they would do tests and she would be kept under observation for a while. 

     It was only then that she took full stock of Lionel, who had stood almost meekly by. She saw he was as white as the doctor’s coat, and the look of fear in his eyes, despite the hopeful prognosis, hadn’t faded. “Should I – get us a hot drink?” she asked, hesitantly, “There’s a vending machine just down the corridor.” Even now she half-expected him to say something about Styrofoam cups being even worse than mugs, but he just nodded and said, “Please,” as if speaking were an effort. He loves her, she realised. He genuinely, totally loves her. It was as if, before her eyes, the weasel transformed into a man. After a few sips of tea he managed to collect himself a little and said, “You and I – set off on the wrong foot, Lesley. I’m not putting the blame on you. I annoy myself at times. I say things and wonder why I’ve said them and only when it’s too late I think that just because Mother said them, and I loved my mother dearly, it doesn’t mean it’s right.” He took another sip, and managing a shaky smile said, “At least it’s warm and wet!” Lesley recognised that as one of Nicola’s favourite sayings when a drink fell short of the mark. So influence had gone both ways. “It’s not all at Mother’s door. My – aversion to abbreviating names – I had a spell at school when some boys thought it was terribly clever to call me Lie. And it lodged, and I didn’t want Nicola to sound like a thief – am I making any sense at all?”

      Lesley nodded. She had realised he wasn’t a man who found it easy to talk about his feelings. All the same, that business with the garden …..

     A few days later Nicola was sitting up in bed and desperate to get home – which she had promised wouldn’t be too long now. For the first few days Lesley and Lionel had spelled each other over at her bedside with Laura taking a turn, too, but now Nicola had insisted that she didn’t need babysitting! Still, Lesley was by her bedside when Nicola said, “It’s confession time, Lesley. I know what folk are saying or thinking about the garden. And they’re right. But – don’t put the blame on Lionel. True, he said the garden could “maybe be a bit tidier” and wasn’t sure about the nettles. But I’d seen one of those infomercials about this wonderful decking it was so easy to put down and I was quite beguiled by it. Lionel had his misgivings!”

     The day after Nicola was released from hospital, the three of them made a trip to the local garden centre and stocked up on wild flower seeds!