Timings

It was while they were holidaying in the country in a rented chalet that he proposed.

For the remainder of the week they discussed wedding plans; dates and places. It was going to happen very quickly. Arrangements would be put in place soon after their return. Then, quite unexpectedly, on their final day, it happened. They were going over the list of guests again, sitting on the front porch, when something clattered to the floor inside. She was the first to go back in. At first, she could see no reason for the smashed cup to be on the floor. It had been on the table, nowhere near the edge. It was a warm, sunny afternoon, but with hardly any breeze; certainly not enough wind to blow it off the table. After standing quietly looking around for a minute or two, she sensed movement behind the kettle. She stepped to one side and saw a small field mouse sniffing the surface. She stood watching it for a while before he joined her.

“What was it?” he asked.

Without taking her eyes off it, she said, “It’s him… or her.”

“Damn!” he groaned, and began walking around the room.

She was puzzled. “What are you doing?”

“Looking for something to hit it with.”

“Hit it? Why would you do that?”

He paused. “Oh! We don’t want the thing bringing disease into the place, do we?”

She stiffened. “It’s not a rat, it’s a field mouse.”

He sighed. “It’s just the quickest way, that’s all. Better than chasing it around.” He looked angry. “We’re in the middle of something more important than this thing, whatever it is.”

She took a deep breath, wondering about the value that he put on the life of the small animal. “It’s a field mouse and I’ll take care of it. I’ll join you in a minute,” she said firmly.

He shrugged. “OK.” He sneered at the mouse, still moving around sniffing things. “Try not to spend too much time on it.” He went back to the porch and the list.

She watched him go, before opening cupboards until she came up with a plastic bowl with a lid. She moved forward and carefully placed the bowl over it. Then, trying not to hurt the tiny creature, she slid the lid underneath. She picked it up, listening to the scrabbling noise coming from inside. Pushing the back door open with her shoulder she went out, holding it as steady as she could manage.

The chalet, being part of a farm property, had a large field behind it. Slowly walking into the centre of it, she sat down with the upturned bowl between her knees. “This is where you live,” she whispered. She lifted the lid and smiled as she watched it scamper away to become lost to view in the thick grass.

It was pleasant, sitting there in the sun. She sat lost in thought for a while. She looked at the time and worked it out. From the time the cup fell, she estimated ten, fifteen minutes, no longer. She thought about that; it wasn’t long. It wasn’t long compared with a year or a month, or maybe just a week or two before she found out about his attitude towards life. Not his life or hers, but life…

She got to her feet. She stood for a while, not seeing any trace of the mouse, but thinking about how by breaking the cup it had given her an insight into the management of her future happiness. These thoughts she would keep to herself. They would finish the list. Fly out tomorrow. Go back to their separate lives for a day or two before letting him know how their plans had changed.