Page 63 of Too Busy for Love

‘Will you make me a promise?’ he asks, and I notice his eyes are a little moist.

‘You have to tell me what it is first,’ I reply carefully. I’m very fond of Reginald, but I’m not going to commit to anything just because he wants me to.

He leans forward in his chair and takes my hands in his. His grip is surprisingly strong as he fixes his eyes on mine.

‘Live well,’ he says earnestly. ‘Love wholeheartedly. Die happy. Those are the only things that matter. If you do the first two, the third is guaranteed. With the right person beside you, you come to realise that everything else is just white noise. That’s what my Annie and I had, and that’s what I want for you.’

I sigh. ‘You make it sound so easy.’

‘Oh, it’s not. It’s hard and it’s often painful. But you have to focus on what matters. Look at me; I’m a decrepit old man who can barely walk and I think we can both agree that the best years of my life are far behind me. But my heart is full and I’m happy. Why? Because I’ve given and received love in abundance throughout my life. I know you’re focused on your career, Beatrice, but don’t forget to love. Promise me?’

‘I’m not sure I’m very lucky where love is concerned,’ I tell him as he releases his grip.

‘What makes you say that?’

I tell him about my week with Jock and my plan to recruit him as the chef at The Mermaid. If he’s surprised by my involvement with Hotel Dufour, he hides it well and listens sympathetically. When I’m finished, there’s another long silence before he speaks.

‘You could go to be with him in Scotland.’

‘I could,’ I say quietly. ‘But I’m scared. What if he doesn’t feel the same way? He was friendly on the call, but no more.’

‘If he’s prepared to uproot from Glasgow and move down here to be with you, it doesn’t sound like he was just being friendly to me.’

I laugh in spite of myself. ‘When did you get so wise?’

‘Oh, I don’t know that I’m wise, particularly. I’m just old and I’ve seen a lot of things. Shall I tell you something interesting about old age? The older you get, the less you understand the world because it moves on so fast, but the more certain you feel about your opinions. If you don’t believe me, come and have tea in the communal sitting room one afternoon. Sometimes I think actual fighting is going to break out.’

He smiles and, as I look at him, I can feel the love emanating from him, not just for me but for his fellow residents. I just wish I could have given him something back.

‘I’m genuinely sorry about the hotel, Reginald,’ I tell him quietly after a minute or two.

‘Don’t be. It was a nice idea to try to save it, but another of the many lessons I’ve learned over the years is to hold tightly to people but lightly to things. Yes, it would have been lovely to see it restored, but someone is bound to do something with it one day. Land in this country is too expensive just to leave it sitting around doing nothing for ever. Even if they do something absolutely frightful to it, I’ll probably be dead by the time it happens, so I’m not going to waste what little time I have left worrying about it. I’m more worried about you. What does your gut tell you to do about the boyfriend?’

‘My gut agrees with you, that I should go and see him, but my head isn’t so sure.’

‘If you don’t mind me hijacking a phrase from your generation, he sounds like a keeper. What’s the problem?’

‘I’m afraid of making a fool of myself. What if I’ve misread the signals and he’s moved on?’

‘It’s a risk, but what’s the worst that can happen? You go up there and things don’t pan out? Then you dust yourself off and make a new choice. But if you don’t go up there – if you let him go – a part of you will always wonder if you made the wrong decision.’

‘You’re right.’ I sigh. ‘I let him go once, and it was definitely the wrong decision.’

‘Exactly.’ He smiles. ‘And it’s like the old saying goes?—’

‘Reginald,’ I interrupt. ‘If you’re about to come out with some cliché like “it’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all”, please don’t. You were doing so well.’

His frail frame shakes with laughter. ‘That’s exactly what I was going to say. It may be a cliché, but there’s wisdom in it. Think about it, will you?’

‘I will,’ I promise him.

Reginald is right, I realise as I walk back to my flat. I’d be a fool not to go to Scotland and at least talk to Jock some more. Quite apart from the fact that I’d kick myself for letting him go a second time, it’s not like I have anywhere else I urgently need to be. I can afford to leave it another week before contacting the agency.

My thoughts are interrupted by the sound of my phone ringing in my bag. I fish it out, hoping that it will be Casterbridge wanting to offer me another job, but the caller ID tells me it’s Abby. It sounds selfish, but I don’t really want to talk to her right now. I’m sure she’s only calling to apologise for the way the Mermaid project turned out, and I don’t want to be dragged back into all of that now that I’m starting to think about my next steps. I stare at it until the voicemail kicks in and then put it back in my bag. By the time I get back to the flat, however, she’s called twice more and I’m unpleasantly surprised to find her waiting for me on the doorstep.

‘Hello, Abby.’

‘Where have you been?’ she accuses, completely failing to pick up on the lack of enthusiasm in my greeting. ‘I’ve been calling you.’

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