Page 16 of Waiting for a Bright New Future

“Tell me some news from the outside world,” William demanded once he had a mug of tea and a bowl of porridge, at a safe but hot temperature, on the tray in front of him. “Give my mind something to chew on.”

Stuart began to recount the day’s headlines from the news bulletin he’d heard in the car on the way over.

“Not politics and stuff. As new friends we shouldn’t discuss that — our relationship isn’t yet strong enough to weather different points of view.” William scraped the last of the porridge from around the edge of the bowl. “You said your new lodger was a woman. Tell me more about her — do you think you and her might, you know, get together?”

“No.” He didn’t even have to consider the question. “We’re poles apart. I’m thinking perhaps I should get rid of her.”

“Tell me more.”

William was easy to talk to and Stuart realised that the old man did truly have a purpose in helping him at this present moment. Just talking was helping him organise his thoughts.

“I like her,” William said. “She sounds the sort of colourful character who’d brighten anyone’s life. Don’t get rid of her. I want her to brighten my life through your stories. We all get stuck in a rut and she’s going to drag you out of yours. Grasp that opportunity while you can. Infirmity brings us all down before we’re ready.”

The old man was looking happier and sounding more positive than when Stuart had arrived. The pair had never met, but Florence was influencing William for the better. Stuart took the breakfast things into the kitchen to wash up and he made a flask of tea in case William wanted another drink before Stuart’s lunchtime visit.

William’s my sort of man.Sandra spoke her mind as he stood at the sink.We’re on the same wavelength about Florence. She’s like a rainbow coming into your grey world. You get rid of her at your own risk.

“All right, all right, message received clearly and understood.”

“Did you say something, Stuart?” William called from the adjacent room.

“No!” Stuart shouted, checking there was enough stuff in the fridge for making William’s lunch when he returned. “Just having a mutter to myself.”

“First sign of madness, that is,” William said as Stuart put his coat on, “talking to yourself. You want to watch it or they’ll be carting you off and then where would I be? We need each other, remember?”

Chapter Eleven

Florence had been living with Stuart for a fortnight. It hadn’t been an easy two weeks. The house had been devoid of a woman’s presence for over forty years and this new one wasn’t slow at making her mark.

Stuart had bitten his tongue at the tights, washed in the bathroom sink and hung over the shower screen to dry. One evening there’d been a pair of knickers there too. Stuart had averted his eyes and decided no one would notice if he went a day or two without showering.

Radio 2 had now become a thing in the kitchen. Stuart preferred the constant talking from Radio 4. There was something comforting in a human voice keeping him abreast of world events. He hated going about his day in ignorance of the detail behind the headlines. He tried to explain this to Florence the first time she filled her bowl to overflowing with Frosties and milk, changed the radio station and sat down opposite him.

“Nonsense,” she said. “We’ve both got plenty of problems of our own without wallowing in those of people on the other side of the world.”

“It’s our duty to be aware of how badly others are being treated, so that we can do something about it.”

“We can’t do anything except give money to charity and hope they spend it the right way. Money that neither of us can currently afford. When I didn’t want to eat my tea, my mother made me think about the poor starving children in Africa. That was supposed to encourage me to eat my sprouts. It had no effect, except that one day, I tipped my cabbage and carrots into an envelope and asked her to post it so the poor starving children could eat my vegetables. She never mentioned those children again. And she never posted the envelope.”

“But if we don’t know what the government is doing, how can we decide who to vote for when election time comes?”

“That’s easily solved. Don’t vote. I never have. Keep life simple.”

Florence had shocked him in many ways since she’d moved in but this statement was something Stuart couldn’t live with. Not voting was irresponsible. It equated to letting strangers decide your future. And, in a turn-up for the books from a girl who wouldn’t hear a word against Florence, Sandra was there supporting him before he’d begun to articulate his thoughts on the matter.

Tell her, Stuart. Tell her those suffragettes did what they did for a reason. She must be educated about Emmeline Pankhurst and the others. Her opinion is criminal. As someone who’s never had a chance at proper living, I abhor those who refuse to take any responsibility for the society in which they live.

“Florence,” Stuart began. “Over a hundred years ago women fought long and hard so that people like you could have a say in how our country is governed.”

Florence shrugged and started swaying her shoulders in time with a tune that had just begun. It felt like trying to engage with the stubborn teenagers in his class thirty years ago.

He took a breath. “While you’re living in this house, I will be obliged to add you to the electoral register. The council send out a form in the summer and we’ll have to put your details on there.”

“That doesn’t mean I actually have to vote.”

“Correct, and unfortunately you’ve just missed the local elections. But there’s plenty of time for me to persuade you of your responsibility as a citizen before the next election.”

Florence appeared to consider his statement. “I’m happy to make a bargain over this. I will put my name on that bit of paper and consider voting. But only if I can get you dancing.”

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