‘I’m very sorry, Mr Stevens. I had no idea things had been so bad.’
‘Oh yes, Mrs Benn. But enough of this. I know you remember Darlington Hall in the days when there were great gatherings, when it was filled with distinguished visitors. Now that’s the way his lordship deserves to be remembered.’
As I say, that was the only time we mentioned Lord Darlington. Predominantly, we concerned ourselves with very happy memories, and those two hours we spent together in the tea lounge were, I would say, extremely pleasant ones. I seem to remember various other guests coming in while we were talking, sitting down for a few moments and leaving again, but they did not distract us in any way at all. Indeed, one could hardly believe two whole hours had elapsed when Miss Kenton looked up at the clock on the mantelshelf and said she would have to be returning home. On establishing that she would have to walk in the rain to a bus stop a little way out of the village, I insisted on running her there in the Ford, and so it was that after obtaining an umbrella from the reception desk, we stepped outside together.
Large puddles had formed on the ground around where I had left the Ford, obliging me to assist Miss Kenton a little to allow her to reach the passenger door. Soon, however, we were motoring down the village high street, and then the shops had gone and we found ourselves in open country. Miss Kenton, who had been sitting quietly watching the passing view, turned to me at this point, saying:
‘What are you smiling to yourself about like that, Mr Stevens?’
‘Oh… You must excuse me, Mrs Benn, but I was just recalling certain things you wrote in your letter. I was a little worried when I read them, but I see now I had little reason to be.’
‘Oh? What things in particular do you mean, Mr Stevens?’
‘Oh, nothing in particular, Mrs Benn.’
‘Oh, Mr Stevens, you really must tell me.’
‘Well, for instance, Mrs Benn,’ I said with a laugh, ‘at one point in your letter, you write – now let me see – “the rest of my life stretches out like an emptiness before me.” Some words to that effect.’
‘Really, Mr Stevens,’ she said, also laughing a little. ‘I couldn’t have written any such thing.’
‘Oh, I assure you you did, Mrs Benn. I recall it very clearly.’
‘Oh dear. Well, perhaps there are some days when I feel like that. But they pass quickly enough. Let me assure you, Mr Stevens, my life does not stretch out emptily before me. For one thing, we are looking forward to the grandchild. The first of a few perhaps.’
‘Yes, indeed. That will be splendid for you.’
We drove on quietly for a few further moments. Then Miss Kenton said:
‘And what about you, Mr Stevens? What does the future hold for you back at Darlington Hall?’
‘Well, whatever awaits me, Mrs Benn, I know I’m not awaited by emptiness. If only I were. But oh no, there’s work, work and more work.’
We both laughed at this. Then Miss Kenton pointed out a bus shelter visible further up the road. As we approached it, she said:
‘Will you wait with me, Mr Stevens? The bus will only be a few minutes.’
The rain was still falling steadily as we got out of the car and hurried towards the shelter. This latter – a stone construct complete with a tiled roof – looked very sturdy, as indeed it needed to be, standing as it did in a highly exposed position against a background of empty fields. Inside, the paint was peeling everywhere, but the place was clean enough. Miss Kenton seated herself on the bench provided, while I remained on my feet where I could command a view of the approaching bus. On the other side of the road, all I could see were more farm fields; a line of telegraph poles led my eye over them into the far distance.
After we had been waiting in silence for a few minutes, I finally brought myself to say:
‘Excuse me, Mrs Benn. But the fact is we may not meet again for a long time. I wonder if you would perhaps permit me to ask you something of a rather personal order. It is something that has been troubling me for some time.’
‘Certainly, Mr Stevens. We are old friends, after all.’
‘Indeed, as you say, we are old friends. I simply wished to ask you, Mrs Benn. Please do not reply if you feel you shouldn’t. But the fact is, the letters I have had from you over the years, and in particular the last letter, have tended to suggest that you are – how might one put it? – rather unhappy. I simply wondered if you were being ill-treated in some way. Forgive me, but as I say, it is something that has worried me for some time. I would feel foolish had I come all this way and seen you and not at least asked you.’
‘Mr Stevens, there’s no need to be so embarrassed. We’re old friends, after all, are we not? In fact, I’m very touched you should be so concerned. And I can put your mind at rest on this matter absolutely. My husband does not mistreat me at all in any way. He is not in the least a cruel or ill-tempered man.’
‘I must say, Mrs Benn, that does take a load from my mind.’
I leaned forward into the rain, looking for signs of the bus.
‘I can see you are not very satisfied, Mr Stevens,’ Miss Kenton said. ‘Do you not believe me?’
‘Oh, it’s not that, Mrs Benn, not that at all. It’s just that the fact remains, you do not seem to have been happy over the years. That is to say – forgive me – you have taken it on yourself to leave your husband on a number of occasions. If he does not mistreat you, then, well… one is rather mystified as to the cause of your unhappiness.’
I looked out into the drizzle again. Eventually, I heard Miss Kenton say behind me:
‘Mr Stevens, how can I explain? I hardly know myself why I do such things. But it’s true, I’ve left three times now.’ She paused a moment, during which time I continued to gaze out towards the fields on the other side of the road. Then she said: ‘I suppose, Mr Stevens, you’re asking whether or not I love my husband.’
‘Really, Mrs Benn, I would hardly presume…’
‘I feel I should answer you, Mr Stevens. As you say, we may not meet again for many years. Yes, I do love my husband. I didn’t at first. I didn’t at first for a long time. When I left Darlington Hall all those years ago, I never realized I was really, truly leaving. I believe I thought of it as simply another ruse, Mr Stevens, to annoy you. It was a shock to come out here and find myself married. For a long time, I was very unhappy, very unhappy indeed. But then year after year went by, there was the war, Catherine grew up, and one day I realized I loved my husband. You spend so much time with someone, you find you get used to him. He’s a kind, steady man, and yes, Mr Stevens, I’ve grown to love him.’
Miss Kenton fell silent again for a moment. Then she went on:
‘But that doesn’t mean to say, of course, there aren’t occasions now and then – extremely desolate occasions – when you think to yourself: “What a terrible mistake I’ve made with my life.” And you get to thinking about a different life, a better life you might have had. For instance, I get to thinking about a life I may have had with you, Mr Stevens. And I suppose that’s when I get angry over some trivial little thing and leave. But each time I do so, I realize before long – my rightful place is with my husband. After all, there’s no turning back the clock now. One can’t be forever dwelling on what might have been. One should realize one has as good as most, perhaps better, and be grateful.’
I do not think I responded immediately, for it took me a moment or two to fully digest these words of Miss Kenton. Moreover, as you might appreciate, their implications were such as to provoke a certain degree of sorrow within me. Indeed – why should I not admit it? – at that moment, my heart was breaking. Before long, however, I turned to her and said with a smile:
‘You’re very correct, Mrs Benn. As you say, it is too late to turn back the clock. Indeed, I would not be able to rest if I thought such ideas were the cause of unhappiness for you and your husband. We must each of us, as you point out, be grateful for what we do have. And from what you tell me, Mrs Benn, you have reason to be contented. In fact, I would venture, what with Mr Benn retiring, and with grandchildren on the way, that you and Mr Benn have some extremely happy years before you. You really mustn’t let any more foolish ideas come between yourself and the happiness you deserve.’
‘Of course, you’re right, Mr Stevens. You’re so kind.’
‘Ah, Mrs Benn, that appears to be the bus coming now.’
I stepped outside and signalled, while Miss Kenton rose and came to the edge of the shelter. Only as the bus pulled up did I glance at Miss Kenton and perceive that her eyes had filled with tears. I smiled and said:
‘Now, Mrs Benn, you must take good care of yourself. Many say retirement is the best part of life for a married couple. You must do all you can to make these years happy ones for yourself and your husband. We may never meet again, Mrs Benn, so I would ask you to take good heed of what I am saying.’
‘I will, Mr Stevens, thank you. And thank you for the lift. It was so very kind of you. It was so nice to see you again.’
‘It was a great pleasure to see you again, Mrs Benn.’
The pier lights have been switched on and behind me a crowd of people have just given a loud cheer to greet this event. There is still plenty of daylight left – the sky over the sea has turned a pale red – but it would seem that all these people who have been gathering on this pier for the past half-hour are now willing night to fall. This confirms very aptly, I suppose, the point made by the man who until a little while ago was sitting here beside me on this bench, and with whom I had my curious discussion. His claim was that for a great many people, the evening was the best part of the day, the part they most looked forward to. And as I say, there would appear to be some truth in this