The Carnival is Over
Laurence got onto the M8 motorway in Glasgow and drove home. He knew Josie was also on the road.
‘How are you?’ he asked when she called.
‘It’s been a tough day,’ Josie replied, avoiding the driver in front. ‘My boss said there are going to be cuts.’
‘Are you going to be alright?’
‘The President has a list of people and salaries. Not sure where I fit in.’
‘Would you like some advice?’
‘No, I bloody wouldn’t! It’s not your job to be my coach and mentor. I’m a grown woman and can look after myself.’
‘That was barbed,’ said Laurence. He knew Josie could ignite with little provocation.
Her breathing came under control. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.’ She was the only person who could explode the apologise in the same sentence.
‘What’s wrong, honey?’
‘I’ve been asked to look at staffing levels in Alfreton and Rotherham. They want three heads gone and I don’t know who to get rid of.’
‘Who are your terrorists? Maybe it’s a good time to get them out, Josie.’
‘I hate it when you’re right.’
‘It’s the benefit of being around the block a couple of times. The big boys will like your logic.’
‘Which brings me to the reason for calling.’
Laurence was quiet.
‘You know how this goes. I’ve got two young children. I’m spending an hour on the phone with you. I tell him I’m working at night when the reality is I’m texting you. I’m not giving my husband the attention he needs and it’s badly affecting our marriage.’
‘I’ve said I want you. And I mean it.’
‘How can we do that? You’re in Scotland. I’m in the East Midlands.’
‘I can live anywhere.’
‘Could you really handle two kids under ten?’
‘There’d be a time between leaving him and moving in with me. It wouldn’t be, like, tomorrow.’
‘We’ve gone over this so many times, Lol. You know I don’t make instant decisions and as much as I don’t want to, I’ve got to put him ahead of you.’
He was cracking inside. If he spoke, she’d hear the emotion. It had been the best eighteen months of his love life. He adored Josie. She was wonderful, considerate, gorgeous, a delight at company functions and so good to be with. She told Laurence their relationship was only fun. She had banned L-bombing from their vocabulary.
‘I’ve got to think about me. I can’t have you occupying this amount of bandwidth and the job needs my full attention now. If I put that time into work, he won’t know the difference, the kids will be happier and the job will be easier.’
‘But if you lived with me, you’ll be happier. I didn’t hear that in your monologue.’
‘I have to do what needs to be done. If the price is my happiness, then that’s what I need to pay.’
‘What about me?’
‘I’ll call you when the dust has settled.’
Laurence checked his phone. The daily WhatsApp messages stopped. The record was 31 in a single sitting. Now? Zero. He watched for message alerts. Nothing. Same for his e-mail.
August became September, became October and still Josie hadn’t contacted him. She could be stubborn, determined and deeply single-minded. Spontaneous? No chance. After a row with her husband, she and Laurence were on an industry shin-dig and Josie dragged him to bed for two nights. He replayed their first meeting and nights frequently in his mind.
She wanted an escape and he’d fallen for her. She’d done the same, but hid it.
In early November, Laurence texted Josie.
This was something I never wanted to send you and hoped I never would. I was listening to 97.4 Firth Gold today. This is a serious oldie, but the words killed me. It’s by The Seekers. The last line is:
Now the carnival is over, I will love you till I die.
The rest of the lyrics are no better.
One week later, Laurence got a reply.
Listened to the song continuously and haven’t stopped crying. Where did you get it from?
My grandparents played this stuff. Grandma said dad had a secret crush on Judy Durham.
I can’t get past it. I will love you, Laurence. Always.
She said it. Not him.
The radio silence resumed. It took a few weeks for Laurence to get out of the habit of checking his phone. By February, he was on an even keel. Then one day, Josie wrote
Does it still hurt?
Laurence’s survival instincts kicked in. He buried the message and chose not to reply. He let 32 days pass before he did, by when it was April. Laurence saw the keyring pendant she had given him and texted.
Only when I breathe.
One day the pain would go and maybe then for Laurence, the carnival would be over.
© Peter Hardman 2026