DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of these characters or anything at all having to do with Ever Decreasing Circles. They belong to their creators and writers of that wonderful show. I am merely expressing my admiration for the amazing series, writers, and performers.
I don't know how I feel. I don't know why I am still here. I don't know why I haven't left yet. I don't know who I am anymore. And I don't know if I am even happy. I don't know anything anymore.
And I wish I did.
Those were the thoughts of Ann Bryce as she sat on the barstool of her lemon-yellow kitchen. Her chin rested in the palm of her hand, and her head hung low. She took in a deep breath, trying to shut her eyes.
This new kitchen - well, it never really did suit her. It did not feel like hers, not as the one in their old Close did. This one was foreign and wildly different.
The Close. Now, there was a thought. She had not realized that the move to Oswestry would be harder on her than it was for Martin. She missed Brooksmead, more than she ever imagined she would. Howard. Hilda. Paul...Paul.
She tried not to think about it...about him. There was always that hint of a spark between the two of them - not that she would ever let anything come of it. But...something was there, if only lingering in the background. At the very least, he had given her a friend, someone to talk to, someone who was a bit more like her, or that's what Ann guessed anyway.
But one thing Ann was certain of - how she loved Martin. Loves Martin. Is in love with Martin, her husband. Neurotic and obsessive though he may be, Ann felt sure she loved...loves...is in love with...him. Her Martin. He is kind and steady.
He saved her from herself, but that felt so very long ago now. So very, very long ago. She had been much younger back then, foolhardier, incapable of taking charge of her own life...or so it would have seemed. But, the Ann of her young days, falling for the wrong man, getting out of a desperately damaging relationship, was not the Ann she was now.
Or so I think. That's what I tell myself anyways.
Martin had changed since their move to Oswestry. He was more commanding, more in charge of himself than he had ever been before. He was happy at work. He had found some committee or other to tackle. And, beyond anything else, fatherhood seemed to agree with him.
And for that Ann was glad. It didn't matter to her if Martin had not noticed that she was slipping.
There had to be someone there, someone more able to cope, someone stronger than she to care for her Marnie.
My, how roles have reversed. To most onlookers, it was Ann who had the strength. It was Ann who kept everything running, everything grounded. Never Martin. But that was not what she felt now.
Ann felt she stood on a precipice, begging for someone to notice. Someone to snap her out of it. This gloom, this melancholy, this malaise.
And, as if an unspoken prayer had been answered, the gurgle of a small baby pulled her from her thoughts. Marian sat in her high chair, small fingers playing with her bowl of mushy peas. She was seven months old now. Ann struggled to wrap her head around that fact.
Their Marian. Her Marnie because Martin could not abide by nicknames.
Ann remembered when Martin first suggested the name. She had been 8 months pregnant, and they still had not settled on a name. She sat in the nursery as Martin put together a changing table. They had been going over what to call their baby for months. Ann shot down her husband's suggestions of Martin Jr. or Martina.
"Listen, love," Ann had said, "one Martin in this house is quite enough, thank you." Her tone was somewhat clipped.
"Oh, now, come on love, I could train him or her, though I feel quite sure it will be a girl, to be ever so orderly from the very beginning. I can put her on a schedule from the first - when to cry, when to gurgle, when to eat, when to sleep. Right love?" Martin droned, smiling all the while at what he thought a brilliant plan.
Ann gave him a look, rolling her eyes in utter disbelief. "Martin, I don't think you can train a baby to do anything. They just are. They cry, sleep, eat, play whenever they want to. And at all hours, might I add." She leaned back in the rocker, folding her hands and resting them on her stomach.
"All hours?" Martin's eyes went wide. "No, certainly not. That simply will not do, love." He seemed nervous now, placing his wrench down and ringing his hands.
Ann chuckled. "Well whether or not it will do or won't, it's a fact. And, for me, it will not be much different - up at all hours."
"What do you mean by that, love?" Martin asked perplexed, his brow furrowing.
"I mean you - Martin. How many times have you woken me up over ridiculous things? How many nights have I been unable to sleep because of something that has stuck in those wheels that ever turn in your mind?" Ann was leaning forward now, her hands making a sweeping gesture. "I mean, my goodness, you got me up out of bed just because the box spring was squeaking one night. I had to bounce, you remember that one, now don't you?" She giggled.
"Now, Ann, you know I cannot abide by a squeaky bed. I must have silence when I sleep, or my mind will rattle all the night long." Martin tried to reason with his wife.
Ann could not contain her laughter anymore. "Oh Martin, if there was ever silence in our bedroom, I would think you had died. Goodness knows you talk enough. You will just have to get used to crying at night. Babies fuss. There is no way getting around it."
Martin huffed and then returned to his work. He was busy measuring the precise distance between the rails of the crib when the name came to him. He chuckled and then snapped his fingers. "Hells bells, love, I've got it!"
"Got what? A plan to control the sleeping habits of a baby?" Ann deadpanned.
"No, love...a name!" He exclaimed. "What about Marian? Something that resembles your name, but still her own. Marian! It's perfect. Like a combination of both our names, love. What do you think?" Martin rattled, grabbing Ann's hands in his.
Ann pulled his hands up to her lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles. "It's perfect. I love it! Our Marian. Our Marnie for short." Ann smiled sweetly.
Martin's hand brushed a stray bang from his wife's eye. "Well, your Marnie. You know I cannot abide nicknames, Ann."
"Well, my Marnie then," Ann agreed. "But you are ever so sweet to consider my name or a version of it for this child, if it's a girl that is."
"And I'm fairly certain that she will be a girl," Martin remarked.
Ann smiled at the memory now. Marnie cooed in her high chair, wanting desperately for Ann to pick her up.
Ann yawned, standing from the bar stool and walking over to where her baby now sat. Ann regarded Marnie, brushing a strand of her daughter's brown hair behind her ear. Ann felt as if she could cry, but pushed the tears back. They would remain behind her eyes. She would not allow them free. She would not risk upsetting Marnie.
And what reason do you have to cry anyways, Ann? She asked herself. You have everything that you could possibly want...could ever need. Then, why do you feel so odd? Why are you like this? What is wrong with me? Will I ever feel like myself again?
After giving birth to Marnie, Ann had given up her Open University courses. She felt like she could not give her full attention to Marnie and study at the same time. And, to be honest, she was tired. So very, very tired. Maybe, she figured, when she quit school, she gave up her chance of being something greater, something beyond being a housewife and mother. But what was wrong with that? Shouldn't she enjoy her time with her family? But the niggling thought would not go away. You quit. You could not handle both, now could you?
Ann shook her head, shaking those musings from her mind.
She watched her daughter give a yawn. "Are you tired? Is it time for your nap?" Ann asked Marnie, picking her up from her high chair.
Ann walked her child into the nursery, placing Marnie gently in the crib. Marnie's eyes were closing very quickly. Ann turned on the mobile, placed a kiss on her daughter's brow, and exited the room.
Ann walked into her bathroom. She turned on the shower, rotating the dial until the water was at its hottest setting. If it seared her, then so be it.
I want to feel something, anything, even if it is pain.
Ann removed her clothing and walked into the shower. She sunk to the tiled floor. It was an odd sensation, the cold tile of the shower meshed with the heat of the scalding water. Ann held her knees, curled into a small ball. She let the water beat against her back. She choked back a sob. Her skin was turning a lobster red from the water. It felt good to Ann, the warmth. Was it somehow a cleansing effect? Would the water burn her or save her? She had yet to figure that one out.
Save me. Please. If only from myself. Remind me why I am still here. Remind me why I have not simply disappeared, packed up everything, leave Martin, abandon Marnie, and just disappear.
To no longer be Ann Bryce. To start over. To be someone knew, someone different.
And that's when she finally cried - terrible, ugly sobs. The kind of tears where your voice gets lost in it. She clutched at her knees, willing herself to calm down. She sat on the floor of the shower until she heard someone enter her bedroom. It was Martin, and he was talking about his day in his typical fashion. "Well, Mole Lee Valley Valves has gained many a client. Everyone sees the value of our valves, so much so the better since the merger," Martin droned.
Ann hurried out of the shower. She looked at how red her skin had become in the mirror. She hoped Martin would not notice. She gazed at her face too - obviously tearstained. She grabbed the towel and dabbed at her eyes – puffy from the sobs. Perhaps, she could hide the redness with some concealer. Opening the medicine cabinet, she reached for her liquid makeup and rubbed some on the splotchy places under her eyes. Less noticeable, less obvious, or so she hoped.
"Where are you, love?" Martin called from the bedroom, moving from here to there.
"I am just in the bathroom, Martin. I'll be out in a minute," she replied cheerfully, trying to hide the sad hitch to her voice.
She threw on a pair of jeans and her sweatshirt, emerging from the bathroom a few seconds later. Her hair was still soaking wet. She walked up to her husband, placing a quick kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry Martin, I haven't made dinner yet."
"Hells bells, love, you look like a lobster! Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. But, you know, that hot water gets hot! You must have had the dial turned up all the way, you silly girl," Martin admonished lightly, returning her kiss. "And don't worry about dinner. I thought we could go out - you, me, and Marian. Nothing very fancy, just fish and chips is fine with me." Martin loosened his tie, removing his loafers for a more comfortable pair of moccasins.
Ann looked down. She knew Martin would notice. Though he might not understand or catch all the meaning, trust him to be observant. "I suppose I just had the water turned up to hot. I'll look less of a lobster after a bit," she sighed. "And fish and chips sounds lovely as soon as Marnie awakens from her nap." She rubbed a towel over her hair, hoping it would dry before they left. Ann never used a hair dryer, preferring her locks just to drip naturally.
"Good, I'm glad." Martin had changed into a regular button-down shirt, not one he deemed for work. No, this was one of his casual looks. He regarded Ann, something seemed different about her. Did she do something new with her hair? He chose not to pursue it. "So how was Marian today?" He asked beaming.
Ann gave him a soft smile. "As good as gold as always. She's growing and learning. She continues to amaze me."
"Well, she's my daughter," Martin replied proudly. "She's destined to do amazing things; provided she has the proper plan."
Ann let out a chuckle. "And I'm sure you have one for her, right?"
"Oh, you know me so well. Don't you Ann?"
"Yes, I do," Ann replied as she walked into Marian's bedroom.
As soon as Ann flicked on the light switch, Marian began to stir. The tiny girl was sensitive to her surroundings, perceptive like her mother and as observant as her father.
Marian stretched a tiny fist forward as her mother gazed at her from above. Ann picked up Marian, placing a swift kiss on her cheek and bringing her downstairs.
Martin was waiting on them both, holding the front door open and having the stroller already parked outside. They planned to walk to the small fish and chips shop just down the road from them a bit.
The only thing that Ann appreciated about their new home in Oswestry was the ability to walk everywhere. And walk she did. Every day without fail. She got the stroller out, bundled Marian in the colder months, and out they went. Ann supposed the walking cleared her mind, though, more often than not, she found herself thinking.
Why is everything suddenly so difficult? Ever since we have moved here, I have not felt the same. What is missing? What is wrong with me? Something's off, though I have yet to figure out what is so different. Is it just me? Is it just the move? Or have I always felt this way? I can't decide.
Returning to the present moment, Ann passed Marian to her father. Martin carefully placed her in the stroller, ensuring the straps were secured around her.
"Can't be too careful," he told his daughter. "Must always be vigilant because you never know what sort of bump in the road you could come across. You have to be safe." Martin placed a gentle kiss to his daughter's nose as Marian watched him curiously, taking in his goofy smile and then his serious expression.
Ann chuckled as they set off in the direction of the restaurant. "Is it worth it?" She said offhandedly, not really to anyone.
Martin heard her. "Worth what, love?"
"Oh, sorry," Ann replied. "I didn't really want to start a conversation." She hugged her arms around herself, scuffing her shoe against the pavement.
Martin looked at her as he pushed the stroller. "Well, now that you have...is what worth what?"
"What?" Ann giggled, biting her lip and trying to avoid answering her husband.
Martin stopped short. "Oh, come on now, love," he exhaled, seemingly exasperated. "Something is on your mind. What do you think is or is not worth it?"
"Well," Ann hedged, "you were telling Marnie about being vigilant and all. I was just wondering is safety worth it? If you go with what is safe all of the time, are you not missing out on something? Is the safe choice always the right one?"
"I was only referring to being properly secured in her stroller. And why wouldn't you want to be safe? What could you possibly be missing? You have gone philosophical on me, love, and you know I'm not really keen on the philosophical." Martin prattled as they turned the corner along the road, coming up the path to the gray-stone front restaurant with a small outdoor patio for seating.
"Oh, I don't know, Martin," Ann remarked, shrugging her shoulders. "And I know you are not a philosopher, neither am I for that matter, but I do wonder sometimes. It was just a thought."
"Well, push it from your head, my girl. I'm hungry. Do you want to sit out here?" Martin motioned to a plastic white table and chairs. A few other people had chosen to sit outside as well, absorbed in their own conversation and paying no interest to the small family.
"Yes, that's fine. It seems we've had a break in the weather." Ann sat at the table, unbuckling Marnie to give her a bit more freedom to move about.
"Very well then," Martin smiled, loving every moment of watching his wife mother his daughter. "I'll go get our food. Just fish and chips, right?" He asked her.
"That's fine," Ann replied. "And don't forget the vinegar."
"Hells bells! What type of English man do you think I am! Forget the vinegar, I dare say," Martin feigned annoyance, a hand coming to rest on his heart. He then let out a laugh. "Course I won't forget, my girl," he said as he disappeared into the shop.
Ann turned her attention to Marnie for the moment, motioning away her baby's thumb as it moved gingerly into her mouth. "None of that," Ann warned Marnie lightly.
Marnie eyed her mother. The thumb moved back upwards again, as if testing her boundaries to see if she could push Ann. Ann gently moved Marnie's hand back down. The thumb travelled slowly upwards again. Ann sighed and took Marnie's hand in hers, placing a light kiss on her daughter's thumb. "Now, let's not start that bad habit, love," she reasoned with her baby. "It would be a hard one to break." Marnie's eyes widened, and, it appeared to Ann, her eyebrows raised as if in annoyance with her mother's request. Ann chuckled. "Now, there's no reason to be upset with me. I am saving you from yourself." She ruffled Marnie's hair.
A cough beckoned Ann from her daughter a few minutes later. Ann glanced up, coming face to face with a student she had met at one of her Open University courses. Ann recognized the younger woman from the art class she had taken, the one where she had to write an essay on Jackson Pollock.
"Ann Bryce, right?" The woman questioned. "Remember me? Lydia McGinnis from Open University. We were in the Student Association together. What are you up to nowadays?"
A fleeting sense of recognition washed over Ann's face. "Yes," she replied, "I remember you." If Ann was truthful, she had found Lydia to be a bit overbearing, the perfect student who always seemed to have an insightful comment that would dazzle a professor. Ann hated her, if she were totally honest. Instead, Ann plastered a smile across her face and spoke through slightly gritted teeth. "Not much nowadays. I have a daughter now, and she is my focus."
"Oh," Lydia smiled sweetly. "I have three children, but still managed to go to class. Now that I have finally finished with the courses, I got a new job here in Oswestry. And a job it is balancing it all and motherhood. Are you still enrolled in Open University?" Lydia had not meant to come across as the perfect working mother - Miss Altogether, but she did, and it offended Ann.
Ann did not let her true feelings show. Instead, she smiled politely. "No. I am no longer taking classes. As I've said, I just had a baby and decided it best to give her my undivided attention. They are only this small for so long."
"Oh, that's too bad. But I do understand. Well, it was good to see you again, Ann," Lydia answered, giving her a quick wave and then walking over to her friends that sat at another table.
Great! Ann thought to herself. Now, run along to your girlfriends over there and have a good laugh at me. Thicko! That's me. Couldn't manage both.
As Ann berated herself, Martin returned with their fish and chips. His wife woofed her food down quickly, eyeing the women sitting at the table nearby.
Martin stared at her, a chip at his mouth. He had really only just begun to enjoy his meal. "Ann, did you even taste it?" He asked as he mashed up a bite of fish for Marnie to taste, popping it gingerly into her open mouth.
"Yes," Ann said as she wiped her mouth with a napkin. "Can we go love? I'm ready now. Please..." Her eyes darted down, and she felt her pulse racing. She rung her hands under the table, hidden from Martin's view.
"Hold on a minute love, let me finish my meal," Martin responded, chuckling, oblivious to the desperation in Ann's voice.
"I have to go," Ann said standing from the table. "I think I may have left something on at the house," she proffered as an excuse.
"Okay, love, if you think so," Martin replied, beginning to stand.
Ann's hand at his shoulder stopped him. "No, Martin, you and Marnie stay here. Finish your meal." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll see you when you get home."
"All right...but..." Martin was flustered. He was not sure what had gotten Ann so worked up. But, before he had a chance to ask her anything, she had gone.
Ann walked quickly back in the direction of their house...but not their home...or that's what she thought. She thrust her hands deep in her pockets. A tear fell out of the corner of her eye.
Stop, she told herself. There is nothing wrong with you. Nothing.
Then, why are you still thinking about him?