0 comments/ 29206 views/ 3 favorites Forlorn Point Love By: Starlight Look at a map of the West Coast, and if you observe closely, you will see a narrow peninsular running out. It is about four kilometres in length and one kilometre wide. In fact, this peninsular is all but an island. At high tide, it is cut off from the mainland huddle of houses with their combined shop and post office and the rather shabby pub. A strip of sand called locally "The Strand" connects the island to the mainland at low tide, and it is this semi-isolation that perhaps inspired its name, Forlorn Point. The peninsular, or as I shall now call it, the island, inclines up from The Strand and thrusting out into the ocean it rises until it terminates in high cliffs against which the ocean rollers come crashing in. The soil on the island is poor and only some coarse grass; bushes and sparse wind blasted trees survive. Over the decades, there have been some attempts to settle on the island, none of which succeeded. Sheep and goats have been grazed on it, but now only a few feral goats remain. Until recently there were two inhabitants of the island, Janice and Stuart Walker. There are the remains of three cottages, built long ago by optimistic would-be settlers. Two have fallen into ruins. The one that still retained some semblance of livability was taken over by Janice and Stuart, and after some work was done on the place, it had the appearance at least of being habitable, and although there was no electricity, bottled gas replaced the old kerosene lighting and cooking facilities. The work was done partly by a professional builder, and partly by Janice. Stuart played no part because he was a wheelchair bound cripple, yet it had been he who had insisted on moving to Forlorn Point. Eight months after they were married Stuart had been involved in an appalling road accident. Months in hospital were followed by depression that translated itself into bitter hatred. Stuart could think only of escaping from society, and he remembered visiting Forlorn Point as a child. Nothing would do but they should go and live there. Janice was in despair. A trained nurse, she understood that Stuart would be wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. He would always need care, and going to the island would leave that care entirely up to her. She battled to get Stuart to accept psychiatric help, to no avail. She thought of leaving him, but a tender conscience prevailed, and finally she wearily agreed that they should go to the island. She was still a young woman, and there were no children and no hope of any, as Stuart was now quite incapable of sexual activity. Among the other causes of despair for Janice, this absence of sexual activity was yet another bitter blow for her. If Stuart had wanted to choose a place most inconvenient for a wheel chair, he could hardly have done better than Forlorn Point. They included as part of the renovation work, some paving round the cottage, but beyond that the going was rough and Stuart could hardly manipulate his wheelchair unaided. Even with Janice's help it was a struggle. Once settled on Forlorn Point it became even more difficult for Janice to leave Stuart, since he was now more dependent on her than ever. Janice herself was depressed at the prospect of years on the island. Relations between Janice and Stuart became increasingly acrimonious, as Janice now became the target of Stuart's bitterness and sarcasm. It was almost as if she was to blame for the accident that had robbed him of his physical powers. He taunted her about her sexual needs; "Like a good fuck, wouldn't you? Why not go over to the pub and get one of the lad's to screw you, you horny bitch. Or perhaps you prefer a bit of self-abuse? Rub your cunt in bed at night, do you?" Janice understood that this abuse arose from Stuart's despair at his own sexual impotence, but it was none the less hard to take, especially as there was truth in what Stuart said. Of course, she wanted a healthy sex life, and there was little likelihood of that living on the island, and even if she had wanted one of the men on the mainland, they were all married, and the community too small for anything to be hidden. From the time they moved to Forlorn Point, Stuart had been island bound. Janice did get away occasionally to shop in the nearest town. She kept a car garaged on the mainland, and would time her trips to coincide with low tide. These trips were not drawn-out, because Stuart could not be left untended for long, and she must not be caught by a rising tide. So two years dragged by with Janice growing ever more lonely and miserable, and Stuart more verbally violent. Everything requiring physical effort had to be done by Janice. She endevoured to make a vegetable garden in the poor soil, looked after the few chickens they had and mended what needed mending. It was a life of boredom and drudgery, with few visitors to break the monotony. During the time of the Spring high tides, one unexpected visitor did arrive. The tides were being driven by gale force winds, and just before dark Janice was going round the cottage, the wind howling about her, making sure the shutters were secure. As she struggled with one shutter a voice behind her said, "Excuse me." Janice whirled round to be confronted by a tall, powerfully built man about forty years of age. He was wearing strong corduroy trousers, a sturdy raincoat and had a rucksack on his back. In his hand, he carried a small canvas bag. Janice felt her heart thump, and she stammered out, "What do you want?" "I'm sorry if I startled you," the man said in a pleasant baritone voice, "but I wonder if you could help me? I've misjudged the tide and I won't be able to get back to the mainland for hours. Could you give me somewhere to sleep?" Janice realised that the Spring tide, driven by the gale, would have covered The Strand joining the island to the mainland sooner than normal. She felt a bit sorry for the man and said, "You'd better come in." The inside of the cottage, never very bright, was now almost dark as the evening light outside faded. Stuart sat in his wheel chair by the table leafing dismally through a magazine. He looked up as they entered, and his eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Who's this?" he snapped. "This is Mr.er…I'm sorry, I don't know your name," said Janice as she lit the gaslight. "Ellis," replied the man, "Kent Ellis." "I'm Janice Walker, and this is my husband, Stuart," and turning to Stuart she went on, "Mr. Ellis has been cut off from the mainland by the tide, and wonders if we could give him somewhere to sleep for the night." "Bit bloody careless, aren't you," snapped Stuart. Kent gave a sheepish grin and said, "Yes, I suppose I am." With the gaslight lit, Janice was able to observe their visitor more closely. His head seemed to almost touch the low ceiling of the cottage. His shoulders indicated a powerful physique, and his face showed signs of healthy outdoor living. He could not be called handsome, but he had a pleasant, cheerful face, with widely spaced dark brown eyes. Kent was doing his own observing, and saw a dark haired, scowling figure crouching in his wheelchair. The venom of the man was almost palpable, and caused Kent to wonder what had happened to bring about such acerbity. Looking at Janice, he further wondered how two such people had got together. In Janice he saw what people describe as, "A fine figure of a woman." She did not seem to him to be either beautiful or pretty, and he chose "handsome" as the best description. She had a heart shaped face with strange grey eyes that seemed to have a look of tired entreaty about them. Her mouth was full lipped and looked as if it would make the sun shine when she smiled. He suspected she had not smiled for some time. She was tall for a woman, being some five feet ten inches. Apart form this, the "fine figure" description arose mainly from her breasts. In her teenage years, Janice had been very self-conscious about her breasts. They were large – one could almost say very large, and they were firm. At times she almost hated them and disliked the boys who tried to fondle them during after-school groping sessions on the way home. No matter how she tried to hide or disguise them, her breasts seemed always to get in the way. They would brush against things and people and seemed always ready to slip out of bras and dress tops. It had been Stuart who, before his accident, had taught her to see her breasts as things of beauty. He had delighted in them, and in their lovemaking, they had been a major focus of his love play with her. As he fondled, caressed and sucked them and she felt her nipples harden, to stand out like acorns, the true nature of their loveliness was brought home to her. In those days, Janice would dress to emphasis her breasts just to please Stuart, and he had called them, "Your lovely breasts." Now, if in trying to assist him to move, or when putting him to bed, her breasts brushed against him, which they frequently did, he would snarl, "Keep those bloody great tits of yours out of my way." Refusing to cry in front of him, Janice would go to her room and weep with humiliation. Looking at her now, and almost unavoidably attracted by her bosom, Kent felt a stirring in his loins that he instantly sought to repress. "I suppose you'd better sleep here," growled Stuart, "but it'll have to be the couch or the floor, we've got no spare bedrooms." There were in fact two bedrooms, but as Janice and he slept apart, both were in use. Janice cut in; "We do have a spare mattress that we can lay on the floor for you. It'll be more comfortable than the couch." "That'll do very well," replied Kent. "After all, I could be sleeping rough out there in the gale, if you had refused to take me in." "I'll get some supper," said Janice. "You take your coat off and make yourself comfortable." Kent put down the canvas bag and removed his rucksack. As he did this Janice saw a geologist's hammer thrust through a strap. "Are you a geologist?" she asked. "Well, sort of, smiled Kent, "I'm actually a paleontologist. I study fossils and…" Stuart cut in. "We're not bloody ignoramuses. We know what a paleontologist does. We don't need a lecture." "Sorry," said Kent. "It's just that a lot of people don't know what…" "Well we do, old boy, so let's leave it at that, shall we?" "Stuart!" cried Janice; "Mr.Ellis is a guest." "Is he?" sneered Stuart. "I thought he was a silly bugger who couldn't work out the tides." "Perhaps I'd better go," said Kent, beginning to put on his raincoat. "No you damned well won't," retorted Janice. Kent was the first visitor they had had for months. She had been looking forward to spending an evening talking with him. For once, she was not going to let Stuart rule her. You'll be wanting some supper soon, Stuart, and then you'll need my help to get to bed…" This was said in such a tone as to leave Stuart in no doubt about her meaning. He was virtually totally dependent on her and any lack of co-operation on her part meant a very uncomfortable time for him. "Sorry," he muttered as an unenthusiastic apology, and fell silent. Janice had heard of the interesting fossil finds on Forlorn Point, and especially at a spot called, "Outlaw's Cove." During supper, as Stuart sat sulking, Janice questioned Kent about his reason for coming to Forlorn Point. "Well, it's a personal thing at the moment. I'm on three weeks vacation, but can't stop working." He gave a chuckle. "I read a paper written by some chap years ago about this place, and wanted to come and have a look myself. Officialdom has never shown any interest, so I thought I'd do it on my own. So I booked the one and only room in the pub, and started today. Made a bit of a mess of it, didn't I?" He laughed. Stuart made as if to comment, but a glance from Janice made him think better of it. Janice told him what she had heard about and seen at Outlaw's Cove and Kent said he might go there the following day. After supper, Stuart had to be assisted to bed by Janice. This was a fairly lengthy process, and when she returned to Kent, he was sitting browsing through some magazines that he had found. "Give me a hand to get the mattress in here, would you Mr.Ellis?" "Please, call me Kent," he replied. "Then you'd better call me Janice," she responded, and led the way into a small side room more or less of cupboard proportions, where the mattress was stored upright. They got it out and carried it to the living room, and Janice went off to get some sheets and blankets. For about an hour they talked, mainly about Kent's work, but also about how Janice and Stuart had come to live on the island. Janice was cagey about saying too much concerning their reason for being there, and to head off any further questions about this, she asked, "Would you like a wash before bed? We do have a bath, but I'm afraid it's in what we call "the scullery" where we do all our washing and washing up. If you'd like to use it, you're very welcome, but I must ask you to be sparing with the water. We rely entirely on water from our rainwater tanks." Kent thanked her and said that he would appreciate a bath, so she showed him where it was and supplied soap and towel. Janice returned to the living room and began to clear up. She was quite elated at having had such a congenial companion for the evening, and gathering the things to be washed, she made for the scullery. The scullery had no door to it and Janice, unthinking, walked straight in with her burden. Kent had just finished his bath and was drying himself. Janice came to a halt, and said "Sorry," turned and went out again, but not before she had seen the naked body of Kent, with wide shoulders and his well muscled torso tapering to narrow hips, and between his thighs she saw swinging his slack penis. "My God," she thought, "He's a well endowed fellow. He could keep a woman happy with what he's got there." When Kent came into the living room to go to bed, Janice apologised again for breaking in on him, and went off for her own bath. When she had finished she put on her nightdress and proceeded to her bedroom, which meant passing through the living room. She intended to say goodnight to Kent, but he had gone to sleep. Janice did not sleep well that night, as she kept remembering what she had seen in the scullery. When she did sleep, she dreamed of a faceless lover who kept almost entering her, but not quite. In the morning, Janice was determined that if she could, she would have more of Kent's company. As she went through the drill of getting Stuart up and preparing him for the day, she told him, "I'm going to ask Kent if he would like to stay here in the cottage for the rest of his vacation. It's nearer to the places he wants to look at, and he won't have to worry about the tides. Stuart was not at all enamoured of this idea, and said so. "Good God, we came here to get away from people, and now you want them swarming all over the house." Janice was in no mood to be bullied or blackmailed by Stuart. "Firstly, Stuart," she began, "it was you who wanted to escape people, not me. I happen to like people especially those who don't belittle and sneer at me. Secondly, Kent does not constitute a 'swarm.' I shall ask him if he would like to stay, and if he says yes, he shall stay. And if you do or say anything to spoil his time here, you and I will have a rather interesting discussion which I don't think you'll enjoy." Janice had never spoken up to him like this before. For a moment he was dumbfounded, and when he did find his voice, his only retort was yet another of his sneers." "Hoping he'll give you a good fucking, are you?" Janice ignored this, and went to find Kent. The storm had blown itself out overnight and the weather promised to be warm if not hot, but the sound of distance breakers booming against the cliffs could still be heard. That sound was rarely absent at Forlorn Point. Janice passed through the living room, and noted that Kent had folded the sheets and blankets, and the mattress was nowhere in sight. She found Kent standing outside the cottage. Here the air was still, and he was gazing up along the peninsular. "I'd like to have a look at Outlaw's Cove today, but I'll make sure I get the tide right this time." He gave a little laugh. "I want to talk to you about that," said Janice. "How would you like to stay on here for your vacation? You wouldn't have to worry about tides then." Kent hesitated. He had seen the effect his presence had had on Stuart, and did not want to exacerbate the obvious tensions between husband and wife. On the other hand, it would be convenient and, he tried not to admit to himself, it would be nice to come back from his day's work to Janice. "Look," he said, "if it's all right with both of you, I think I'd like to stay. I promise I'll put the mattress away each day," he laughed, "and I can pay for my board and lodgings." Janice joined in his laughter and said, "We can discuss terms some other time. As long as you do put the mattress away, it will be fine." They went into the cottage for breakfast over which Janice and Kent discussed the little details of his stay, such as meal and bath times, and where in the shed Kent could keep any specimens he found. Stuart simply sat frowning. Breakfast over, Kent announced he would go to the Cove, and would Janice give him directions? Janice said she could do better than that. She would take him there. "It's only about fifteen minutes walk. You won't mind that, will you, Stuart?" Stuart gave a grunt that was taken to mean it was all right. "What about food?" asked Janice. "You'll need some lunch if you're going to be out all day." "If it's only fifteen minutes walk, I'd rather like to come back here for lunch, if that's all right?" Janice had no problem about that. The more she saw of this seemingly gentle man, the more she wanted to see of him. Kent was equally smitten. He would normally have taken food with him and stayed out all day, but the thought of an extra hour with Janice was too enticing to miss. Having settled Stuart to his desultory attempt to paint which, was one of the few activities he attempted, Janice set off with Kent for Outlaw's Cove. As she had said, it took only about fifteen minutes to get there. As they walked they discussed Forlorn Point – its advantages and disadvantages, but avoided the questions they really wanted answers to. Janice wanted to know if Kent had a woman in his life. Did he have any children? Where did he live? Kent had equally personal questions he would like to have had answered. Why were Janice and Stuart really here? How did Stuart come to be in a wheelchair? How could Janice tolerate a man who treated her so insultingly? I suppose these are questions we all have about others from time to time, but are too reticent to ask them. Arriving at the Cove Janice watched Kent scramble confidently down the narrow track that led to the beach. She recalled how Stuart had once been like that – strong and active. She turned away from the Cove and the sight of Kent, and went back to her cheerless, bitter husband. At lunchtime Kent appeared, carrying his canvas bag and announcing he had found some "interesting specimens." He then proceeded to tell Janice their names, which meant nothing to her, but any conversation with Kent she found engaging. He departed for the Cove after lunch, and while the tide was still low, Janice decided she must do some shopping to get in some supplies for the extra mouth she now had to feed. She made sure Stuart was comfortable, and left him making his umpteenth attempt to paint The Strand. On her return, she found Stuart asleep with yet another badly executed painting on the easel. She began preparations for the evening meal. Forlorn Point Love Kent returned in the late afternoon thoroughly pleased with himself, and spouting the names of specimens he had found that Janice had no hope of understanding. Stuart opened his mouth to make a sarcastic remark, thought better of it, and shut it again. Out of the effective range of television, the evening was spent listening to music on the radio, while Kent wrote up his notes for the day, Janice read and Stuart dozed. After Janice had bedded down Stuart, she and Kent spent another near silent hour and a half together, each engaged in their own activity, yet in a companionable way. Janice had never experienced this before, and wondered at the peace and warmth of such togetherness. Just before Kent went off for his bath, Janice asked, "Where do you live, Kent?" He mentioned a suburb in the city, but said his work meant he spent little time there. He went on to say, "That's the trouble you see…" Then he stopped and went for his bath. Kent finished his bath, and Janice had hers. After her bath, passing through the living room, this time she found Kent still awake. The day had been warm and the warmth had continued into the evening. Kent was only partially covered by a sheet, which was lowered down to just above his pubic area. He was obviously naked, and beneath the sheet, Janice could see the bulge of his partially erect penis. She felt a shiver of desire run through her, and her vagina began to lubricate. The thin nightdress she was wearing allowed some vision of her breasts, and she could see Kent looking at them. She noticed that the bulge under the sheet growing larger. She bade him goodnight and went to her room. Unable to sleep she had to masturbate twice before there was some partial relief from her tormenting appetite. Kent was equally sleepless. The sight of Janice's large breasts had aroused him. Like her, he had to relieve himself before he could finally drop off to sleep. During the following days the fact of their being present to each other added constantly to their mutual craving, yet neither had the audacity to approach the other for what they both yearned for. Each day Kent went out, mainly to Outlaw's Cove, and returned to the cottage for lunch. In the evening, after Stuart had gone to bed, they were together for an hour – two hours, even longer. It was about the middle of the second week when Janice, now beginning to feel positively unwell so great was her sexual frustration, took the initiative. After her bath, she as usual went to pass through the living room to her own room. She was about to say goodnight to Kent when she saw the now familiar bulge beneath the sheet. Kent looked up at her in her translucent nightdress. Janice had deliberately chosen this nightdress to try to expedite what she felt must happen between them. Looking down at Kent, she could see the unmistakable fire of sexual desire in his eyes. Her own sexual lubricants were starting to run down her thighs. She knew that this was the moment, and if they let it pass, it might never happen again. One of them must have the courage to break the sexual impasse, to overcome the fear of rejection for the sake of all that might be. Janice said very quietly, "It's been a very long time for me." Kent said nothing for a moment then, extending his hand to her said, "For me too." He drew her down to him and placing his hands on either side of her head, he kissed her tenderly, flicking his tongue over her lips. Janice kissed her way slowly down his chest and over his belly. As she pulled the sheet covering him away, his shaft sprang upright like a strong tower. Janice took the beautiful organ into her hand and explored it with her fingers, gently pressing the crown before she took it into her mouth. As she began to suck, tasting his precum discharge, Kent stroked her hair, as he groaned with rapture. Kent was physically strong, and after a few minutes of Janice's ministrations, he almost picked her up bodily and pulled her vagina to his lips. His tongue sought her opening first, then as her fluid ran over his face, he circled her clitoris with his tongue. Janice felt her orgasm approaching like something approaching from afar off. She wanted it but feared it. She began protest; "No Kent, no. Don't make me, please. I can't stand it, it's too much." Her body began to quiver and as the orgasm burst upon her, she cried out, "Yes, oh yes. Darling…yes…yes." The orgasm went through her like a hot fire, shaking her whole body with the pain and anguish of long hunger being at last ministered to. She ground her sex organ against Kent's lips, crying out she knew not what of love and desire, all her long dammed up libido exploding in a crescendo of wanton lust. Her climax passed, Janice bowed over Kent for a few minutes, her vulva still pressed against his mouth as Kent held her firmly round the thighs. She felt at peace and strangely in love. She wanted to give this man what he had just given her. She pulled away from him and brought a nipple to his lips. He took it into his mouth and suckled her. Janice whispered, "Yes, love me there, love my breasts." As Kent sucked her nipple his hand found her other breast, and stroked it from the base to the nipple, ending with a gentle squeeze on the nipple. Each time he squeezed Janice gave a little whimper saying, "Yes, darling, again." So fascinated was Kent with the beauty of Janice's breasts, he might have stayed with them all night, but Janice had other plans. Now recovered from her climax she centred her vagina over the crown of Kent's penis, then slowly lowering herself she let him slide into her. Kent raised his head to look at the lovely sight of his penis being plunged into Janice. He felt her moist warmth enclosing his manhood, and he groaned with delight. She would not be hurried, and tortured him with her slow sliding up and down on his shaft, but this very torment in fact exacerbated the situation. Kent could not hold out indefinitely, and seizing her hips, he dragged her down onto him, releasing a flood of semen into her. Again Janice was crying out, "Oh God yes, in me, all of it darling, please all of it, deeper…deeper." For the first time in years, both of them had found sexual solace. Janice continued with Kent's slackening penis inside her. There was no desire to separate, and Kent caressed Janice's breast saying, "You're very lovely." Both knew they had begun something that would not be easily stopped. They had words they longed to say to each other, but dared not. To say, "I love you," after a few days of acquaintanceship and one sexual intercourse, might sound ridiculous, yet both ached to say it. There was that sense within that each had found someone to love him or her, and someone to whom they could give love. Their sexual act had not abated the hunger that was within; it had only made them long for more of this nourishment. This is so often the tragedy of these situations. Finding the source of sustenance, it is so easily lost again. Janice wanted to cry out, "Stay with me always." Kent wanted to say, "Don't leave me now." Instead of this declaration of their true feelings, Janice came out rather lamely with, "Thank you, Kent." Kent responded, "It was lovely, Janice." Janice departed for her bedroom. Both may had gained some relaxation from their long stored sexual stresses, but their thoughts were anything but relaxed. In plainest terms, the question going through both their minds was, "Where to from here?" The following day was one in which a new start had to be made. It might have been a joyful morning for both Kent and Janice, but instead it was one of awkwardness, of avoiding each other's eyes, and Kent hastening off to his task. Stuart was watchful. Janice and Kent might think they had sheltered him from knowledge of their night activity, but he knew the sound of sexual intercourse. He had heard the cries and groans, and knew what they meant. He said nothing. Kent was not going to Outlaw's Cove that day, but to a little bay called "Cave Bay," so-called because there is a cave in the cliffs that enclose the bay. Janice, having got Stuart settled at his painting, announced that she was going for a walk. Stuart knew where she was going, but still said nothing. Janice, of course, headed for Cave Bay. She was and is not the sort of person who can live long in uncertainty. She has to confront issues, and what might or might not be between her and Kent, had to be met head on. Janice came to the cliff top overlooking Cave Bay, and looking down saw Kent tapping with his hammer below. She negotiated the rough track down the cliff, coming up behind Kent who had still not heard her. "Hello Kent," she said. He swung round in surprise. "What are you doing here?" he asked. "I've come to see you," she answered. "I think we have some things to talk about, don't you?" "Yes," he said, "I think we have. Let's go down to the cave." They descended the rest of the cliff and making for the cave, they sat down at its entrance. They sat for a long time saying nothing, just looking at the breakers rolling in to the shore. Each sought a way to ask the vital question. It was Janice who broke the silence between them. "Last night was my first time with man for nearly four years. I might have had other men but I haven't. What I did last night with you, was done because it was with you. Do you understand what I'm saying?" "Yes. I understand. You're saying that the sex wasn't just sex, but the outcome of something more than the act itself." "How was it for you, Kent? And no nonsense please. Let's be as honest as we can be with each other." Kent drew a deep breath. What he wanted to say was both simple and profound, and he knew that much hung upon Janice's response to what he was going to say. "I love you, Janice." Janice did not move or speak, and Kent wondered if she had heard. Looking at her sitting beside him on the sand, he saw her immobile, as if frozen in time and space. He reached out to touch her, to try to wake her from whatever dream or nightmare she had gone into, but before his hand reached her she seemed to tremble all over. Suddenly she fell against him, pressing and curling herself into him. Sobs shook her frame. She was like a terrified child seeking reassurance and protection from a strong parent. She tried to speak through her weeping with little success. "Oh Kent. I…I…love…I…I've hurt…it's hurt so…" Since the time of Stuart's accident, she had wept with no one. Her tears were always hidden. Now it came surging out; all the pain and misery, all the abuse and insults, the day after day burden of care, and the profound loneliness. Someone had said, "I love you," and in those three words was freedom; freedom to return that love, freedom to grieve and freedom to live. Kent held her saying nothing. She had not echoed his words of commitment to her, but it seemed no words were needed. It was enough that she clung to him, letting the gathered poisons of years pour out. The best of him was being exercised. The male urge to protect the loved one - these days much derided – inflamed him. He would have held and sheltered her forever if she wished it. As Janice's weeping ceased and her sobs diminished, she recalled her next crucial question. "Is there anyone else? A wife? Children?" "There was a wife once. There are no children," was Kent's short answer. His longer answer explained in more detail. He had been married for twelve years, but two years ago his wife, Joan, had left him. The reason was clear. "My work takes me out into the field a great deal. This means I am away from home a good deal. Often I could have arranged for Joan to come with me. Even if she didn't want to live rough, I could have found some place for her to live where we would have been closer together. She wouldn't hear of it. It's not as if we had children to worry about. Anyway, I came home from one field trip to find she'd gone off with some chap ten years younger than she is. And that was that. I filed for divorce and it came through six months ago." "Last night was the first time I had been with a woman since Joan left me. I've buried myself in work, even on vacation, like now. That, in a nut shell, is my story, Janice." "My God," thought Janice, "I'd go to the ends of the earth with this man. I'd live in a ditch just to be with him." She said aloud, "You know my situation. Stuart can't be left alone for any length of time. I'll be perfectly frank with you. I don't know whether you would ask me to go with you – to live with you – be…" Kent cut in. "Yes I would ask you to go with me, but I understand your circumstances, and I'm not going to make things more difficult or frustrating for either of us by pressing you to be with me." Janice rose saying; "I'd better be going. Stuart will be wondering where I've got to." Both of them realised that those words somehow symbolised their situation. Janice would always have to be "going" to attend to Stuart's needs. By his behaviour, Stuart had alienated everyone else who had been part of his life. Even those who had tried to understand and accept his bitterness eventually gave up. There was no one to take over Janice's role in Stuart's life, unless he went into an institution. This he rejected, and Janice could not bring herself to force the issue. If she forced it now, it would be, as she saw it, for her own selfish gratification. Every night for the rest of Kent's stay at the cottage, he and Janice made love. Every night Stuart heard the sounds of their loving. Torment him as this might, he knew that he could never love Janice in that way again. Beneath the darkness of his festering anger, there was still a genuine love for Janice that he did not dare to show. To do so would, as he saw it, be weakness. Janice and Kent talked of how they would meet in the times to come - where they would make love. But they knew this was all fantasy. On the morning of Kent's departure, Janice walked with him across The Strand. Kent's car had been garaged in one of the houses. Being in public view, they shook hands. Kent got into the car and drove away. Janice, feeling she was carrying a great weight, walked wearily back to the cottage. Stuart sat reading a book in the living room. Janice stood and looked at him for a moment – the man she had just sacrificed love for – the went on into the kitchen to prepare lunch. Three weeks passed after Kent's departure. Stuart had observed Janice closely. He had for once come out of his world of self-pity, and tried to connect with Janice again. She wondered what had inspired this new softness in his dealing with her. Stuart had conjectured that the whole thing might have been a passing affair, a brief fling. As he now saw Janice seemingly wilting daily, he understood that this had been much more than a passing affair. On Janice's side, it was during the third week after Kent had gone that she discovered she was pregnant. This was hardly surprising given that they had used no contraceptives, and Janice's feelings were twofold. In the first place, she rejoiced in her condition. "I shall have something of him to love," she said to herself. In the second place, she would have to tell Stuart. Nothing short of a secret abortion that nothing would make her have, could avoid the confrontation. She waited until lunch time one day, and began, "I've got something to tell you, Stuart." "You're pregnant!" Janice was confounded. "How did you know?" "My dear Janice, I may be a cripple but I'm not blind and deaf as well. Every night Kent was here, I could hear what you were doing, and in the morning, I caught an occasional glimpse of his semen on the sheets." "But you said nothing." "What was there to say? I couldn't do for you what he could. It's agony enough to know that, but for once – and I'm not sure why – I decided not to put my miserable self first. Do you love him, Janice? "Yes." "Does he love you?" "Yes." "Then why don't you go to him, or why doesn't he come to you?" "You must know the answer to that, Stuart." "Yes, I do. 'Until death parts us'?" "Those were the words I said, Stuart." That ended the conversation. Janice was amazed. She had anticipated an almighty row, recrimination, and spiteful insults. This quiet, almost polite response left her completely bewildered. For the next two days nothing further was said, then at breakfast on the third day Stuart asked, "Have you told Kent about the baby?" "No." "Why not?" "What's the point. The only thing he could provide would be money, and unless you say we need that, I have no intention of asking him for it." "I see." Janice went on, "I have to go into town today, we need some more supplies." "Right." Janice went to the mainland and drove into the town. She was away from the cottage about two hours, and on her return, there was no sign of Stuart. Knowing how limited he was in the distance he could travel, she scoured the immediate area round the cottage. She did not find him. Panic set in and she rang the police. At first, they did not take her call for help seriously, but when she told the officer that Stuart was a chair bound cripple, he changed his tune. "There'll be a car there within half an hour, madam." The police arrived and briefly surveyed the scene. They called in reinforcements including the state rescue squad, and began to comb the peninsular. It was mid afternoon when they found him in Outlaw's Cove. They first saw his wheelchair smashed at the bottom of the cliff then looking further out they saw his body being washed back and forth between two rocks. Janice was distraught. She felt she was responsible for his death. How he had managed to get that far unaided in the wheelchair was beyond her. It must have been some desperate sort of energy. She had had nearly four years of misery with Stuart, but she could not forget the happy, loving days, early in their marriage. She tried to picture how it all might have been different. Her thoughts were full of "If only…" "There surely must have been other ways, if only…" Stuart now left her with the burden of guilt. After the funeral, Janice came back to the cottage. She had been unable to bring herself to enter Stuart's room, but now decided to clear it up. It was when she pulled off the top sheet that she found it – a letter addressed to her. Opening it she read: Darling, this is the last act of love I can perform for you. Thank you for your love and loyalty. When you can, be with the man you love and let him have his child. You are worthy of the best. May he be worthy of you. Stuart. This time Janice wept alone. For the next few days, Janice worked round the cottage sorting out Stuart's things, deciding what she would keep in memory of him. At the same time, she weighed what she would do about Kent. Stuart's death had been in all the newspapers, on radio and television. "He must have known," she thought, "Yet he never even contacted me." Eventually she decided that she must at least tell him of the coming child. She telephoned and got an answering machine. She left a message. "Kent, would you come to see me at the cottage as soon as convenient?" Six days passed and there was no response. "So, it was all nonsense, the talk of love! I was just a handy fuck while he played with his fossils. More fool me for falling for it!" On the seventh day, Janice spotted a man wading across The Strand. The tide was running in and he was up to his knees in water. "The fool," she said to her self, "get him self drowned." Then she recognised him. "Oh my God, its Kent." She felt the blood drain from her face and her legs could hardly support her. Her hands began to tremble and she wanted to flee. Forlorn Point Love Kent arrived on dry land and came straight to her. "Darling, I came as soon as I could. Is there something the matter?" Janice made a mighty effort to recover her self and said grimly, "Come up to the cottage." Kent, puzzled by what he perceived was a cold welcome, and troubled by the grey of Janice's face, followed her. Arriving at the cottage she bade him sit down, but remained standing herself. Kent looked around and asked, "Where's Stuart?" "You mean you don't know. It was splashed all over the media. Where have you been, on the moon?" Kent gave awry grin. "Sort of. I've been out on fieldwork almost since the time I left here. I only got back yesterday." Janice sank down onto a chair. So, that was it. He'd been out of communication at least as far as the general run of news was concerned. What now? Having worked her self up to tell him what she thought of his neglect, she now had to climb down. How to begin? "Stuart's dead, Kent." Kent sat staring at her for a few moments, then, "How? When?" Janice told him the story. "Oh my love, I'd have been here the very first moment if I'd known. I feel terrible, leaving you alone at such a time." His contrition melted Janice, but she maintained her rather grim aspect to deliver her next piece of news. "I've got something else to tell you, and I'm not sure how you'll take it." "Tell me." "I…we, are going to have a baby." In the right sort of film, the father overcome with the joy of this news, and the mother slightly tearful but with full face lighting, the symphonic strings soar heavenwards. I am saddened to tell you that this is not a film. There was no symphony orchestra, and neither Janice nor Kent followed the script. "It's a bit difficult isn't it, darling," said Kent. "How long before we can decently get married do you think?" "Well," said Janice copying Kent's approach, "I should like it to be before the birth. Would that be all right do you think?" "Yes, yes I think so. By the way Janice, I think I mentioned this before, but in case I didn't, I really do love you." "Yes, I know, but don't make that an excuse for not telling me so very, very often. And in case you are curious, yes, I love you like hell and don't you forget it. By the way, we'll discuss the matter of those field trips at some time, because you'll have to make very special arrangements with the baby and all. And one more thing. That was the worst proposal of marriage I've ever had." Kent looked down at the floor, then looking up again said "I love you very much. Will you marry me?" "Of course I will, you silly fool." They stared at each other for a moment, then burst out laughing.