I suppose if the world has
to end, the pool is as good a place as any for it to happen.
We sat quietly together on the rock above the water on a beautiful
summer’s day and it was peaceful. There really was nothing more to worry about, was there? Like everyone else on this strange and unreal day, we waited—and
wondered what it would be like.
The pool is a small tarn in a beech wood
a few minutes walk from our home. I should, perhaps, tell you
a little about us so you can understand what the war has meant
for ordinary people in an English village. We are in our late
twenties and we’ve been married for almost ten years. In normal
times, we teach at the comprehensive school in a market town
about twenty miles away from here. But these are not normal
times.
I suppose some might think our life isn’t very exciting. But we are happy together and we resent the way our lives and hopes are being destroyed. I leant against Paul’s
shoulder and he touched my face absent-mindedly. The black
and white collies lay quietly by our side. It is right they
should be with us today.
We considered going to the churchyard
but I don’t think I could have coped with that. I’m afraid of those ominous green mounds. I wish graves didn’t look like that—my
imagination can never resist painting pictures. But the pool
is where we walk the dogs each day and set the world to rights.
Does everyone have a special place they choose to make their
own?
Paul picked up a stone and skimmed it across the surface of the pool. He had never been able to resist doing that. He persuaded me to try it once but my stones sank without trace and I gave up.
I hate what the politicians and the military
have done to us. We didn’t want to fight anyone; we argued and demonstrated against the attack. But it happened anyway, as we always knew it would. And today is the result. So many precious hopes and dreams—lost
in a future stolen from us.
“How are you doing?” murmured Paul, interrupting
my thoughts.
I looked out across the water and considered.
“I’m all right,” I replied and in a way I meant it. All the worry, all the anguish—it
was in the past now. He laid down the stone and put his arm
around me.
“Do you remember the first time I brought you to this place? I wanted to live here so much and I was afraid you wouldn’t
like it.”
“You chose a day like this and you never
mentioned septic tanks, inadequate water supplies and electricity
that goes off every other day.”
“Didn’t I?” asked Paul.
I laughed. “You know you didn’t. Though it wouldn’t have mattered if you had. It felt like a sanctuary even then—far
away from school dinners and bells.”
“And Michael Willetts in the science lab.”
I grinned. “You make it sound like a scene
from High Noon.”
“Gary Cooper had it easy.” He smiled,
putting his face up to the sun, perhaps for the last time.
“You have been happy, haven’t you, Rachel?”
He didn’t look at me but I could hear
the urgency in his question.
“You know I have,” I said, leaning my
head against his arm.
The war hadn’t felt like a major conflict. We were far more powerful than the enemy and it should only have lasted a few weeks. But then, I suppose that’s
what people thought when someone shot Archduke Ferdinand. Only
this was worse.
Was it only fifteen years ago we celebrated
the new millennium? People say they had such hopes for the
new century and they can’t believe what has happened. Perhaps
around that time, we did have a chance to change. It might
easily have inspired us. But the situation only got worse.
I shook myself. I will not let myself
think like this, today of all days. What is the point? Since
we found out the actual date, Paul and I have thought about
where we would go and what we would do. It has become one of
those dilemmas you only used to wonder about. If this were
your last day on Earth…Of course, we didn’t know that for certain. Officials spoke optimistically of an expected survival rate but I don’t
know how many people believed them. And Paul suspected most
of the lucky ones had already been chosen.
We jumped as the dogs began to bark. Quiet
voices drifted down the lane and I looked up at Paul. How dare
they? This wasn’t in the plan. He stood up, shading his eyes
against the sun.
“Who is it? I don’t want to see anyone
today. I want us to be here on our own when it happens.”
I was almost crying now. This was so important to me.
He shook his head.
“I don’t recognise them, Rachel. They’re not from round here. And they’re
very old.”
I peered at the approaching couple. Paul
wasn’t exaggerating. They really were old and they were struggling
on the rough track. The woman stumbled and the man tried to
take her weight. Paul rushed forward and took her arm. I felt
guilty and grabbed the dogs to stop them jumping up. The animal
shelter told us border collies were intelligent. I suppose
there are exceptions to every rule and we are still fond of
them.
“Are you all right?” I asked. “You look
exhausted.”
The woman stared into my face for a moment.
“I will be, dear. It’s just this heat
and that path seems a lot steeper than it did when I was a
girl.”
“You used to come here, when you were young?” I
asked, interested in spite of myself.
“Oh, yes,” she said, turning to the man
at her side.
“We always thought of it as our place
then.”
He smiled and somehow he looked vaguely familiar.
“Did you used to live around here?” asked
Paul, helping the woman down onto our rock.
“Oh, we still do,” replied the man. “You probably just haven’t
noticed us.”
It was quite possible and we were away during the day in term time. He picked up a stick and threw it for Meg and Misty.
“Is that why you wanted to come back here—today? You wanted to see it one last time?” I
asked, thinking I understood.
“Perhaps.”
I was bewildered and I could tell Paul was struggling too. He tried to explain why we were here.
“It’s the same with us, you see. It’s where we’ve
chosen to spend our last day too.”
The old man gazed out across the pool
and fondled Meg’s ears.
“Does anyone really know what’s going to happen tomorrow?” he
asked quietly.
I wasn’t sure how to answer. I shook my
head.
The old lady struggled to get to her feet. “Maybe we’ll
get to know each other better in time.”
I wondered if age was confusing her mind. She nodded to her husband and they turned to make their way slowly back up the track, leaving us confused and disturbed by the encounter.
“In time?” I asked, looking at Paul. “Do
we have time?”
It was many years later that Paul and
I came to understand who the elderly couple were that day at
the pool. For we have been amongst the lucky few. The five
per cent expected to survive. That doesn’t mean it’s been easy for any of us. For a while, we even wondered if survival were worthwhile. But slowly and painfully, things started to improve and civilisation began to reassert itself. And this time, we knew we couldn’t repeat the mistakes of the past. Naturally we managed to invent a few new ones to take their place and I admit society is still far from perfect. But at least we are beginning to understand our shortcomings and that’s
a start.
And Paul and I? Now, fifty years on and
in our eighties, we still go down to the dark, quiet pool.
It’s difficult along the rough, uneven track but it’s important to us. And as we sit stiffly on our rock and I look into the face of my dear Paul, I recognise the old man who came to reassure us that day, long ago, when our world almost ended. We can’t
explain it. Are our memories playing tricks on us? I prefer
to believe they were dreams from the future.
Although I am still the same girl inside,
I know that Paul must see the old lady, as he skims a stone
across the mirror-like surface of the pool. I gaze into that
mirror and I can see how our reflections have changed. It doesn’t
matter to us. At least we have had the chance to grow old together.
And I think of all those others who have not.
