BRIAN FERRY SAYS
                   

 

 

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They had even argued in Venice.  Venice of
all places.  They'd gone there, both hoping
to get-away-from-it-all.  Maree opened her
one-time-palace bedroom window, throwing
the shutters aside with abandon, her arms
stretched wide.  Her hair, fresh from the
shower, dripped onto her towelling
bathrobe.
      "What time is it?" Chas yawned.
      "Sevenish." Maree spun round.
      "God, I'm starving," Chas frowned.  He
looked thoughtfully at Maree.

      Hotel deliveries were still going on
outside on the Canale Grand, the sound of
water lapping against boats, mingled with
Italian phraseology.  Chas sank back
against the green pillow. "What?"          
      Maree, tousling her hair with the
thick towel, repeated: "Do you want to go
to the Accademia, or the Doges Palace, or
what?"
      "Whatever," Chas yawned loudly again.
      "What do you mean, whatever?"  Maree
threw the towel at him.  "We're in Venice,
that's the Canale Grand out there." Her
finger obliged pointedly, "...Not the
Manchester canal."  She pulled drawers
open, peeled a dress from a hanger in
the green wardrobe, then dressed.
      Chas managed to get out of bed as
Maree drew her fingers through her hair,
lifting the roots automatically.  He padded
through to the shower, sighing loudly  as
he found the small bathroom strewn with
Maree's things.
      She could hear him mumbling in
annoyance.  Biting her bottom lip, she
swore to herself not to retaliate.  
 
      Chas returned, whistling, as he, too,
dressed.  He had to stoop to the mirror to
comb his wet hair.
      "Ready?"  He lifted his eyebrows, not
smiling as he asked the question.
      "Okay," Maree put her two lips
together and stretched them, it wasn't
exactly a smile.
      "I think I'm getting used to ham and
cheese on a roll for my breakfast," Chas
said, as he drank his second cup of coffee.
      "I'm going to the Accademia, I want to
see Pierro della Francesco's work," Marie
announced.  "Are you coming with me?"  She
looked him straight in the eye, her voice
deliberately filled with friendly enquiry.
      "Think I'll go to see the glassblowing
in action." Chas scratched his head.
      Friendly enquiry out the window,
fallen into the Canale, Maree fumed: "What!
You hate that sort of thing.  Rather than
do something with me..." Her black hair
bounced with indignation, as she kept a
scream of frustration in.  Through her
teeth, she added, "...Why don't you go to
Burano on the vaporetto and see the
lacemaking?" she scorched.
      Chas coolly stood up, "See you..." and
he was gone, whistling as if he didn't have
a care in the world.
      "That insufferable man..." she hissed
as she flounced out of the hotel breakfast
room.
      The magic that is Venice touched
Maree.  She bought her ticket for a
waterbus and waited in line, drinking in
the lack of road traffic noise, the sights
of the grandiose buildings along the
Canale, the colours, the would-be romantic
sounds of the gondoliers.
      Standing in the Accademia, a reverent
small crowd mingling, she looked at
Pierro's Saint Jerome and a Donor.  Looking
at the Donor, kneeling so lovingly before
the Saint, Maree thought of how she and
Chas had once looked at each other in that
way.  It all seemed so long ago now.
Another life.  Yet, they were still young,
in their late twenties.  But it had all
changed when their son, Stephen, had died.  
      Four years old, he hadn't survived the
operation.
      A tear appeared in each of Maree's
eyes.  Their greenness were  bathed with
sadness.  She stood for a few moments more,
taking deep breaths.
      Once upon a time she and Chas were so
in love.  Do I still love him? Maree
pondered.  All we do is row. 
      Emerging from the Accademia, Maree
decided to continue her way on a waterbus
to St Mark's. There were countless pigeons,
but not many people.                       
      She and Chas had come to Venice out of
season. A make-or-break-holiday. Maree went
on reflecting on her present life with
Chas.  Neither of them were happy, could
they be happy apart? 
      Maree walked to the Piazzetta dei
Leoncini.  Some children were playing on
the statues of the medieval lions.
Observing them, Maree smiled.  All the
world over, children were the same.  It was
only when they grow up that their
differences can mean incompatibility.  
      Have we become incompatible?  Once I
loved Chas.  He brought me flowers and
chocolates, he took me to rock concerts.
All the art books I have, he bought for me,
indulging me.  His camera and all its add-
on equipment, I bought for him.  We
indulged each other.  Then we  had Stephen
and we both indulged him.  She shook her
head.
      She reached a decision.  I am not
going to think of what I'm missing not
having Stephen.  Instead, I am going to
celebrate his birth.  Celebrate having had
him for  a few years.  If I can
celebrate the lives of these children in
front of me,  surely I can celebrate my own
son's life?  And with that thought, which
had been a very long time in coming, Maree
felt a burden lift from her heart.
      She went on her way.  All the time she
thought out what she would say to Chas.  It
came to Maree that she had been thinking
inwardly so much, that she had not reached
out for Chas. Eventually, she came to
Scuola di San Marco. 
      This was  a fifteenth century
Renaissance building which nowadays doubles
as a hospital.
      Maree was amazed to find herself
glorying in the building's splendour,  her
mind completely divorced from the fact that
this was a hospital, a place she could not
bear to enter.  With that, came the
realisation that when Chas had had to go to
hospital for minor surgery she had - she
now saw - cruelly not gone with him.  He
had come home that afternoon,  to an empty
house. 
      Walking on, Maree arrived at the
church of the Miracoli.  She stopped to
admire the marbled walls.  As beautiful as
the building was, she lost its image as it
was replaced by the image of poor Chas
unloved by his wife.  How many times had he
reached for her in bed, over the last
eighteen months?  Only to find she turned
away.  Selfish, I've been so selfish,
thinking only of me.  Chas loved Stephen
so.  He took him to football.  Ate junk
food with him at Macdonald's.  Took him for
joyous days out when I had to go away at
any time on a  course. 
      That's another thing, she now thought,
not once did Chas ever moan about me going
away.  He knew how important to me it was.
She was now at the side entrance to the
large building, which was the church of San
Salvatore.
      Maree went inside at the same time as
a few other tourists, who were also taking
advantage of seeing Venice without large
crowds.  "Scusi," she said with a smile, as
she bumped into a woman as she gazed up at
a Titian painting. 
      Then it suddenly came to her.  Here
they were in Venice.  It had been her
decision to come here.  Ostensibly it was
to patch up their failing marriage, or to
sever it entirely, but now I see, she
thought, I've been selfish in choosing this
destination.  I was putting my love of art
before Chas! 
      She left the church, she couldn't wait
to be with Chas again.  Wishing that she
had asked him  to meet her for lunch, Maree
began to hurry back to their hotel.  Maybe
Chas would be there.  She had so much to
tell him.
      As the waterbus neared the hotel, she
caught sight of Chas. She wanted to fling
herself at him, but she knew it would
confuse him, so she contented herself with
taking his hand and kissing his lips
lightly.
      Chas looked at her in surprise.  He
accepted her approach, bemused but
grateful.  Instead of going back to their
hotel, they decided to take advantage of
the pleasant sun and walked on, each in a
world of their own, building bridges to the
other one's world.
      Arriving at the Rialto, they crossed a
bridge for real. Other couples such as
Maree and Chas strolled over the bridge,
laughing, smiling, companionably. 
      Everyone's troubles were suspended as
they drank in this beautiful city.
      Chas stared thoughtfully at one
couple, he slipped his arm round Maree's
waist, tensing himself for her retraction.  
      Instead, he was pleasantly surprised
to find her rubbing the back of his hand,
enjoying the moment. 
      They decided to return to the hotel.
Later, Maree was resting on the bed,
writing postcards.  Chas was getting
dressed.  "I'll go out and suss out a nice
restaurant for our meal tonight.  You're
not too hungry yet, are you?"
      "No, the complementary fruit was very
welcome though."
      She had meant to say so much to Chas,
but their ardour had got in the way. 
      "Caio, signora," Chas blew her a kiss,
leaving Maree smiling.
      Chas left the hotel, grateful for
Maree's signs of returning to normal.  He
knew she resented his not seeming to have
had his life spoiled by their son's death.
Chas missed Stephen every bit as much as
his wife did.  Yet, he knew you had to get
on with it.  There was only  one other way
and that could lead to madness.  Deciding
he hadn't done enough for her, wanting to
do something, as yet he knew not what, Chas
whistled as he set off on  his quest.
      An hour later, Maree was beginning to
fret.  She was hungry and very anxious to
tell Chas how much she loved him, and to
apologise for the way she had been.  An
hour more, then Chas returned.
      She just couldn't help herself.  Being
unhappy had become a habit.  "Where have
you been?" she charged.  "I was hungry, but
now I'm past it," she pouted.
      "Maree," His tortured voice touched
her.  Taken by surprise, Maree sat on the
bed,  saying nothing.
      "You know why I'm late?" Chas
continued. "I waited for the artist to
finish sketching this...I wanted to buy
it...for you."  His little boy look was
there, just as it had been all those years
ago.
      "Oh, Chas," Maree rushed over to him,
speaking softly.  "It's beautiful.  The
charcoal drawing of the Bridge of Sighs,
she could tell, was well executed.  She
said: "I'm so sorry, for everything I've
put you through. I do love you, you know."  
      She gazed up at him, adoring him once
more.
      "Do you really?"  He ran his hands
through her hair.  "I love you, Maree.
I've never stopped loving you.  
      Chas said, "It wasn't anyone's fault,
Maree, Stephen's death wasn't our fault,
certainly.  So, why we've been punishing
one another, I don't know."
      He said insistently, "Maree, we must
get this right.  We have to live our life
in a sane way, not go down that mad road.
Don't you see I'd go crazy without you?" He
brought her hand to his lips and gently
kissed it.
      Holding her head up to kiss him, she
said, "I hope you're not getting all
Italian on me."                            
      "What's wrong with that, bambino?"
      "Well...these Italian men seem to
never stop looking at other women."
      Pulling her to him, surrounding her
with his strong arms, Chas promised, "I
might look, but there will never be anyone
else for me but you, my beautiful wife."
     How could she have seen this man, her
lover, her friend, as the enemy?
      Maree sighed contentedly, "You know
what Brian Ferry says, don't you?  'Let's
stick together.'"
      Chas kissed the top of her head.
"Yes, let's do that."
      Later, they both were on the verge of
sleep.  Maree knew that tomorrow would be a
new day, a new dawning, and she would be
ready to get on with the rest of her life -
with Chas.