How Augustine Met His Wife

 

The 1980s family which might have inspired this tale

It was nearing the conclusion of the summer term when Mr. Augustine, a young man of gentle disposition and a mind for numbers, first encountered the object of his affections. Daily, he would ferry Miss Susan, a governess entrusted with the education of history, back from their place of employment. Despite their close quarters within the confines of his gig, a state of affairs lasting a full ninety minutes, their connection remained curiously platonic. Miss Susan, though pleasant enough, failed to stir even the faintest ripple in the well of his emotions. Indeed, it was a peculiar sensation, this lack of sparkle in the presence of the fairer sex.

One fateful day, however, Miss Susan presented Mr. Augustine with a surprise. Upon entering her humble abode, his gaze fell upon a vision unlike any he had encountered before. Reclining upon the sofa, as graceful as a Grecian statue come to life, was a young woman whose beauty rivaled the goddess Venus herself.

Mr. Augustine, weary of the relentless demands of his current profession, had long contemplated a change of course. The drudgery of instructing the lower echelons in mathematics, a duty bestowed upon him solely by virtue of his junior status, had thoroughly dampened his spirits. The very institution, once envisioned as a place of learning, now resembled a prison, its teachers akin to warders burdened by the constant barrage of complaints. By the year's end, the staffroom had become a haze of cigarette smoke, a refuge for weary souls coughing out their frustrations.

No longer could Mr. Augustine endure such a fate. A well-deserved vacation awaited him, followed by a path towards retraining as a software engineer, a profession promising a far more substantial remuneration. Only now, with this newfound resolve, did his life seem poised to truly begin.

The slumbering beauty was roused by their arrival. Miss Susan, ever the gracious hostess, had proposed a celebratory curry to mark Mr. Augustine's impending departure. Truth be told, his options for that evening were rather limited.

Miss Susan’s friend, while undeniably attractive, possessed a personality that leaned towards the serious, even combative. A simple remark from Mr. Augustine, expressing his relief at leaving the teaching profession, would be met with a sharp retort.

"Are you any good at mathematics, Mr. Augustine?" she might inquire, a note of challenge in her voice.

"Indeed, I daresay I possess a certain aptitude," he would reply, a hint of pride colouring his tone. "Perhaps the most adept within the department," he might add - with the silent acknowledgement that such a distinction held little weight in their current circumstances.

"Then you desert these young minds in favour of personal comfort?" she would counter, her brows furrowed in disapproval.

"My own superior," he would respond, launching into a detailed account, "was recently forced to retire due to a nervous ailment brought on by the relentless stress. I fear a similar fate awaits me if I do not make a change."

In truth, Mr. Augustine could already feel the telltale signs – a creeping detachment from reality, a dulling of his senses.

Miss Susan’s beautiful friend remained unconvinced. "So many abandon their posts," she would declare, her voice laced with indignation. "And there was that recent pay increase, one must not forget!"

While Mr. Augustine suspected such statistics might well support his side of the argument, their debate continued well into their meal, their verbal sparring as fiery as the curry itself.

It was perhaps inevitable that, amidst such spirited exchanges, an invitation should be extended. To his surprise, it was readily accepted. As he would later discover, Miss Susan's friend's arguments often served as a curious prelude to affection, a means of clearing the air before something more might blossom.

Their connection, though not one struck by lightning, was nonetheless genuine. A comfortable companionship formed the bedrock of their relationship. Beneath the surface of their playful jabs and intellectual jousting, a subtle attraction simmered. In their absences, each felt adrift, incomplete, as if searching for a missing piece.

Alas, a single, colossal argument proved their undoing, leading to a bitter parting of ways. Mr. Augustine, with a heavy heart, recorded the unfortunate event in his personal diary: "So much for that!"

Three long months passed before Miss Susan’s friend recognized the gravity of her error. A single day was all it took to rectify the situation. Given the confines of their small, bohemian community, arranging a chance encounter was a simple feat. And Mr. Augustine, never one to resist the charms of a spirited young lady, readily responded to her renewed interest.

Their tale, alas, cannot be neatly concluded with a flourish of "happily ever after." He, a creature of the intellect, found solace in the realm of ideas, thriving in his newfound profession. She, on the other hand, possessed a spirit as wild as the untamed countryside, yearning for constant motion and the thrill of encountering the unknown.

This disparity, naturally, led to clashes. Tempers flared, grievances were nursed, and reconciliations were laborious affairs. Yet, a curious truth remained: when separated for even a short while, their lives seemed drained of vibrancy, a dull ache settling where connection had once thrummed. The mere presence of one another rekindled a spark, igniting reunions with a sweetness that only absence could intensify.

With the passage of time, they learned to navigate their differences with greater grace. Theirs was a dance, a constant ebb and flow between intellectual pursuits and adventurous expeditions. Perhaps not a conventional happily ever after, but a harmony born of acceptance and a deep-seated affection that defied easy categorization.

One sunny afternoon, as their children embarked on the tempestuous journey of adolescence, Augustine turned to them with a twinkle in his eye. "As for the finer details of our courtship," he declared, "that, my dears, is a tale best left to your mother. Good luck prying it from her!"

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© Adam Carlton: with thanks to Gemini Pro for moving the story 210 years backwards in time and hundreds of miles northwest to Chawton, GU34 1SD.