Chemical Secret by Tim Vicary. Part 6.
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Chapter 7 | Christine and Simon
Mary talked to Mr Wilson too, but it was no good. She came out looking tired and very sad.
For many months she argued with David Wilson about the danger of the waste products, but he would not listen to her.
And so, eighteen months later after John’s report, Mary decided to move to another company. She was pleased, because it was a more important job, but that wasn’t the reason she was going. She knew that the cleaning machines would never be built.
John was sad to see her go. He had enjoyed working with her, and she had come to his house several times over the last year and a half. His children liked her now. They had never been so friendly with any woman, since their mother had died.
On her last day, Mary and John had lunch in the factory restaurant together.
‘You don’t have to go, you know, Mary,’ John said. ‘This company is very successful, and it’s growing all the time. Your new paint has meant four hundred new jobs – all because of your discovery! This isn’t a poor town any more – it’s becoming successful, rich! People will want to move here from other places.’
He talked about the new sports centre at Andrew’s school, which was built with money from the paint company. There were two big, new shops in the town as well, and a new theatre, and a lot of new houses. ‘And it’s all because of you,’ he said. ‘It’s wonderful, Mary, don’t you think?’
He smiled at her across the table, and took her hand in his.
She looked at him quietly. He had changed a lot since he had first started working at the factory. For the first six months after he had got the job, he had been really happy and lively. She had always known where he was in the factory, because he was always laughing, or singing to himself.
But for the last eighteen months he had been much quieter. He was always busy, but he didn’t sing or laugh, and he didn’t often look Mary in the eyes. And when he was alone, he looked tired and sad.
She took her hand away from this, gently. ‘You know why I’m going; John,’ she said. ‘I know what’s going into the river, and I don’t lie to think about it. You should leave, too, and get a job in another company.’
‘I’m too old.’
John stared at her angrily. ‘It isn’t easy for me to get a new job. And Mary, the company has been making the paint for more than two years now, and no one’s been hurt, have they?’
Mary didn’t answer for a moment. Then she said, ‘Only you.’
‘What do you mean, only me?’
She looked at him sadly. His head was bald now, and he was beginning to look like an old man. Once, she had wanted to marry him. Now, she was pleased that he hadn’t asked her.
‘Oh, I just meant your leg, of course.’
John still had a painful red place on his leg, and sometimes he walked badly because of it. But that wasn’t what Mary meant.
John smiled. ‘My leg’s nearly better. I’d almost forgotten about it. But Mary, before you go… I wonder if you could help me. It’s a family matter.’
‘I see. Well, how can I help? I don’t know your children very well, you know.’
‘No, of course not. But you’re a woman, and… well, it’s sometimes difficult for me, as a father on my own. Christine’s a young woman now, and she hasn’t got a mother to discuss things with. I don’t always know what to say.’
‘No.’
Mary looked at him sadly. She often wondered why he didn’t ask her to his house more often. She liked him and his children, and she thought he liked her. ‘How old is Christine now?’
‘Eighteen. And she wants to get married.’
‘Already? She’s rather young, isn’t she?’
John looked unhappy. ‘Well, that’s what I say. But she gets so angry with me, Mary, really angry.’
‘Who’s the young man?’
‘He’s called Simon MacDonald. He’s a journalist – he works for the local newspaper. He’s a nice young man, I suppose. But every time I speak to him, we argue. And then Christine always agrees with him, and I get angry with her, too. I don’t want to, Mary, but I do. I feel I’m losing her, you see.’
‘What do you argue about?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Stupid things, really. He belongs to one of those environmental groups – Greenworld, I think – and he’s always talking about it. He thinks only young people are right, and everyone over twenty – five is always wrong.’
Mary looked at John thoughtfully.
‘Well, what do you want me to do, John? I’m not a mother and I’ve never been married.’
‘No, but… you could talk to Christine, perhaps? If you came to our house for Sunday lunch…?’